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hueseok · 4 months ago

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it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment.

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.”

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt.

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you.

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours.

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect.

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated.

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh.

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss.

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #bts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts drabbles #jungkook drabbles #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #bts x you #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfiction

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vincinnamontoast · 2 months ago

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⠂☆ Vi SFW & NSFW HCs

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ tws/content warnings: nsfw towards the end :) not rlly proofread, a bit more modern au, lowercase intended

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ a/n: I’m still working on the story I wanted to post today but I wanted to put something out. so here are a little bit of my vi head cannons! this is lightly proofread with no organization tbh :>

☆ SFW/NSFW MIX

˚. starting off very in it, she worships you and the very soil you walk on. she will quite literally do whatever you say with no questions asked, but of course you don’t take advantage of that

˚. she does in fact snore. nothing crazy heavy and loud. just a light snore with some heavy breathing.

˚. she isn’t the best at regulating her emotions. she is very shamelessly vulnerable with her partner, and she loves being safe enough to feel small sometimes.

˚. she is a very light sleeper. any sense of movement and her eyes slightly open to ensure you’re fine. If so, she goes right back to sleep like nothing. will not move at all, and honestly it concerns you. she has to be sleeping on or near you. if you move away from her, she goes right back.

˚. baby needs so much love. she is a sucker for being babied. wash her hair in the shower, make her little snacks, smushing her cheeks and kissing her nose, tucking her in, and kissing her forehead. call her baby and she’s done for. she will never admit, but you can see it in the way her cheeks turn a warm peachy pink when you baby her. she loves reciprocation, so you can bet you’ll get the same exact love and treatment back

˚. she gets pretty frequent nightmares. she’ll panic inside until she realizes you are asleep next to her, then she’s rolled up into you

˚. loves being both big and little spoon

˚. Is in love with you and everything you do. she will sit and listen to you talk for hours about anything. while you talk, she admires you. the way you move, your voice, how every syllable slips from your lips like honey. she feels so woozy and intoxicated when she is with you. you wipe her off her toes by simply breathing in her direction

˚. she listens so well. you stare at a new game or a nice jacket for too long and you’ll have it by the end of the week. mention how you’ve been craving anything and she’ll have it cooked for you and fresh or ready for take out

˚. she is actually very smart (makes me sad some people call her stupid). she enjoys learning new things but she does get a bit impatient. although it does seem like she jumps into her fights head first, she has strategy and technique.

˚. she is pretty tech savvy. Jinx and Ekko taught her a lot of what she knows. (I do hc that jinx is very tech savvy and into computer software :p).

˚. she always tells you that she loves you. she just wants you to stay aware of how much you mean to her. when you’re both off at work, she ends up always missing you tremendously. she wakes up dreading the moment you both seperate in the morning. you can definitely expect her to blow up your phone with cute messages and comments about her day when she can.

˚. I indeed hc that she has a staring problem. she’s just intrigued easily by little things. she analyzes and is never sure when to look away. she stares at you. A LOT. she admires every single thing about you. every quality, every imperfection, all of it.

˚. very observant and attentive

˚. terrible road rage. she definitely puts up that middle finger and spits profanities

˚. so headstrong and can be very stubborn

˚. follows you everywhereeee. she can’t help it, she loves you so much and just wants you to be right there. she decides stops to following you one day, because she feels as if she’s being annoying. you both were watching movies. kissing her cheek, you stood up. she flexed for a moment, forgetting her plan. halfway down the hall, you noticed you couldn’t feel her right on your tail. when she wasn’t there, you walked back to the living room. she was sitting on the couch with her head down, like a sad puppy. “come here, baby”, was all you said before she jumped up, running to follow you. In truth, you loved it (she’s so puppy coded)

˚. she does talk with her mouth open out of habit. she does it in public when she has to say something.

˚. I believe that she isn’t picky BUT she does like to critique food. she is a food critic and will be honest with you. she is not the greatest cook but she loves to learn and try. she hasn’t dissatisfied you with a dish yet :p

˚. very protective but she knows you can protect yourself. that doesn’t matter though, it won’t change the fact that she is a protector

˚. she is always there for you always, will straight up leave work or anything to be with you if you’re having a bad day

˚. she isn’t the best with wording how she feels but she shows everything through her actions

˚. will defend you in anything, even if you are wrong. she is the defend you in public, correct you in private type

˚. she is an over thinker and does need reassurance sometimes. she is afraid to lose you in any way, but struggles to reassure herself that you aren’t going anywhere.

˚. she actually begs you to get the vi tat on your hip. when you do, she’ll get something that resembles you or your initials on hers

˚. she is so funny actually. she will have you falling over laughing with a shit eating grin on her face. when you both laugh together * chefs kiss *. her laugh is so cute. she does cackle and react with her body when she’s really into it. does in fact think brain rot shit like rizz and skibidi is funny

˚. very very helpful. she can also build shit. bob the builder lesbian fr. truly such a sweetheart and will do anything to help around the apartment you share

˚. she loves video games, choice horror and lore games are her favorite

˚. she is a bit messy, will leave her clothes on the floor and forgets to put her dishes in the sink. she just forgets to clean up after herself sometimes (as we all do honestly)

˚. tends to eat fast because she never knew when she’d eat growing up. It’s just one of her many habits in adulthood. she always makes sure that you have food to eat before she does. just like she did for all of her siblings growing up. she is a nurturer at heart

˚. physical touch is a HUGE love language for her. She loves skin to skin. Quality time is also one of her biggest. has got to be near you or at least have you in her eyesight, but she can respect your personal space.

˚. get jealous easily but she isn’t toxic about it. she’s used to everything being taken from her

˚. has a very gentle touch despite being how strong she is

˚. she can sing. she plays with your hair and sings softly n your neck when you’re sleepy

˚. huge softie. she tends to portray herself as tough, (and of course she is) but she is truly a teddy bear at heart.

˚. best person ever to chill out with. days where you’re both off work, lazy, and watching horror movies, eating, and playing games all day >>>> she’s down for anything honestly. she makes everything so fun and she is such a light to be around. she has her moments as we all do but you’re her partner and you’re there when she needs you

˚. she can be very annoying (i love ittt). can be pretty loud and constantly makes stupid jokes at the worst times.

˚. type who teases the fuck out of you constantly but when you tease her back, she gets so flustered. you both get huge boosts of confidence with each other and will flirt back and forth. It always ends with your eyes in the back of your head and her face between your legs.

˚. you worship her tattoos and kiss her along them all the time. breathing and kissing her neck while dragging your fingertips down the big one on her back. kiss her down it grrrrrr. makes her weak

˚. eats you out like a mad mann. depends on how eager she is but she usually has a method. she puts work into it every time, pleasure for you is pleasure for her. the way she holds you during it, you’re so important to her. your comfort is everything. she’s either the crazy in it type or the brutally slow but you can feel every single swipe and curl of her tongue type. rub her undercut and play with her hair >>>>>> she definitely moans when she’s eating you out

˚. she’s got so much energy and stamina. will have you bent and taking it every which way for hoursss

˚. Is such a good kisser. she is the ‘eat you whole’ type kisser. wants every part of your body on hers when you’re kissing. her hands stay up and down your body. will grab you by the back of your hair, hold your face gently, and guide your mouth into hers. soul connection type makeouts 24/7. always stops to look at you as you’re both panting, admiring each other

˚. grabs your face and makes you look at her when she fingers you. and she’s so good with it too. it’s so hard to maintain eye contact with her, because she makes you nervous. feeling your vision fade in and out because of how good it feels. “look at me” makes you feel things you thought you’d never

˚. she has nipple piercings (canonnnnnnnnn)

˚. she is a moaner and pretty vocal, they’re so soft and smooth coming from her heart shaped lips.

˚. she dirty talks so bad. she’ll have you feeling disgustinnggg afterwards

˚. her body is so warm and soft honestly, those bandages save her from a lot of the scruff she’d get.

˚. seeing her soft pink hair laid everywhere on the bed as you lay between her legs. her pussy melts in your mouth like honey butter and the sounds she makes>>>>

˚. a switch. lovesss to have you between her legs. to keep it quick, everything is messy, and nothing is ever boring with her

˚. she is a very loving and supportive partner

a/n: hope you liked! <3

#vi arcane #vi x fem reader #arcane vi #caitvi #vi x reader #arcane #vi smut #vi x you #league of lesbians #league of legends

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captain-joongz · 4 months ago

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Cinderella

Pairing: club owner!Min Yoongi x f!reader x right-hand man!Jung Hoseok

Genre: non-idol au, pure fucking smut i'm not even playing, a hint at s2l??

Summary: Question - what is something that might help a shameless brat trapped in a body of a shy girl come out of her shell? Answer - two hot owners of a local club more than happy to whip her into shape.

Word count: 19.7k (i'm sorry lol)

Warnings: ginger Yoongi and that mama 2022 red carpet Hoseok (*in Britney Spears voice* a guy like you should wear a warning~), intoxication, min yoongi hands, they're softer doms, threesome, oral (f rec.), breath play and slight choking (i'm so predictable), light bdsm themes, spanking, bondage, light use of a whip, humiliation and degradation, reader is a right brat, multiple orgasms, overstim, clit slapping

A/N: indulge in this sope brainrot :). when i tell you this scenario changed my life i'm being only a little dramatic, long live our dom kings and i will die on this hill

„Come on Y/N, you should totally give it a try!” one of my friends exclaimed, drunkenly leaning on another one of our gals to her right, “You never know! And you should be more confident!” Other girls sitting around the dingy sticky table in the club we were currently in all enthusiastically nodded and grumbled their own supportive comments.

I looked over them, still unsure, and then back to the ginger man sitting on the bar, relaxedly swirling a glass of an amber gold liquid and occasionally taking a sip. He wasn’t really talking to anyone, just sat there and watched the two guys manning the bar wordlessly, which in my friends’ opinion made him an ‘easier target’.

Target of the stupidest game our drunken brains could have come up with – whoever manages to seduce a guy the quickest drinks for free for the rest of the night. The second that suggestion hit the table, I loudly opposed it, for two reasons.

First, it seemed kinda mean. And secondly, and most importantly, I was terrified of coming up to someone and just flirting. That’s not something I did, not that I was against it or for the lack of trying, and occasionally I entertained when someone came up to me and flirted, sometimes even going home with them. But I was shy, and when I got shy I got painfully awkward, so I’d rather save myself from that embarrassment.

“Yeah, it would do you some good,” my best friend Yeri, a tall thin pretty girl with her hair dyed cupid pink, suddenly turned to me and joined into the fray, “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re super hot and somehow you don’t realise it at all.” She was already a little tipsy as well, her posture more relaxed than usual as she giggled along every other word. There’s no love like drunk girl talking to her friends.

“That’s easy for you to say, you already finished your mission!” I whined back to her, the whole table’s undivided attention on me. To keep the stakes high and the game fair, we collectively selected a few guys and randomly divided them between us – each of us went to a specific man that was chosen by us and given to each girl.

But mine was out of this world, like unfairly so out of my league it would be embarrassing to even try. The moment I lost the game of rock paper scissors, I tried to bargain my way out of it – there was no way I could bag a guy like that in under a minute! That was insanity! But the girls wouldn’t budge, telling me to challenge myself and have faith in myself. That was easy of them to say when they didn’t have to walk up to a god amongst men and try to awkwardly flirt with him.

“Look at that guy, if I tried to talk to him he’d probably think I’m the valet or something,” I continued to grumble, as the constant stream of complaints didn’t stop since I lost the game.

Our attention collectively jumped back to him as he sat there. He had the kind of smirk on his face that was annoyingly effortlessly hot, giving him the aura of someone who was very well aware of his otherworldly qualities. The black tee with some kind of white print was oversized just right to be fashionable and hung off of his frame in a way that enhanced his physique in the best way. Black cargo pants and black boots gave him a punk vibe, and the whole look was finished with some chunky steel rings and necklaces that somehow managed to be even more hot and not look gaudy at all. My eyes trailed down to the rings, which were comfortably sat on one of the best hands I’ve ever seen, and I had to physically stop myself from drooling.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell I could just hit on that.

“What’s the worst that could happen? He says no. It’s worth a try,” Hana, another part of the friend group tried to wheedle me into going one more time. They all probably sensed I was about to give them another rebuttal, and an understanding passed through all of them.

Suddenly several pairs of hands were manhandling me, pulling me onto my legs and out of from the booth with the table we were sitting at. I let myself be pushed to the edge of the seat, too confused about what’s going on. Someone pushed a glass of alcohol in my hand and I downed it, resigning myself to this happening. A wave of compliments and encouragements washed over me, and I turned on shaky knees, those several drinks I’d already had making themselves known now that I was stood.

I took a step forward, froze, another few steps, and then promptly power-walked all the way back to the table. There was some booing and some disappointment, the girls already grumbling about how I shouldn’t chicken out now.

“How do you even flirt with someone like that?!” I hissed out in panic, not having the slightest idea of how to initiate conversation.

A barrage of tactics flew over me, one stranger than the next one, but I turned to Yeri, trusting her the most. “Just be really bold, he seems the type to like it,” she told me once she saw my trembling eyes, “walk over all confident and say something really crazy and ballsy.” With one last smile she started pushing me away into the direction of the bar again.

Easier said than done! ‘Just be bold’, thanks very much! That was the problem from the very beginning!

Putting my complaints away and pushing my brain to think of something to say to the rapidly approaching bar-dweller, I nervously dragged my gaze over him several times, stumbling in my distractedness several times. Come on brain, what do we like about him? What can we say?

As the man got closer and I got a clearer look at him, one thought overpowered every other – hands hands handshandshands.

I basically crashed into the bar upon my arrival, somewhat inelegantly attempting to lean into it with way too much force. The man startled a little before his eyes jumped up and looked straight at me, no distinct emotion discernible in them, but he certainly didn’t look extremely friendly.

Before I could stop myself, I let go of the reins over my drunken brain and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What nice necklaces you got there, but don’t you think they’d look better around my neck?”

I tried to sell the statement more by putting on a (hopefully) cheeky smirk and then pointedly looked at his hands coquettishly.

The man froze, only stared at me wide-eyed and shocked to his core, hand holding his glass halfway to his lips. Silence. I started panicking, and basically begun melting down with the shame and humiliation, already prepared to apologise and slink off to some dark corner and die there, but then he smiled.

It was a wide shit-eating grin, a devilish glint in his gaze now as he obviously checked me out, eyes gliding over my figure in a clearly appreciative manner. He put his charm on thick, lips curled smugly as he stared me quite intensely.

“Well, I don’t know princess, guess you’ll have to try them out,” his voice was basically a purr, a deep rumble that started up in his chest and drawled out of his mouth in a velvet perfection. I shuddered, now quickly getting flustered when he was flirting back. But I steeled myself, determined to bring this to a successful end. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

“Oh, and you’d let me have a test drive?” I drawled out with my fingers playing with my hair (how basic!!), only a light stutter to my words that immediately sent a wave of heat to my already red cheeks. I only hoped it wasn’t visible under the lights of the club and the bar.

He leaned forward, chest now pressed into the edge of the bar, which brought our faces impossibly close. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, full of lust and dark promises, as his lips stretched in a self-satisfied smirk. The hand that used to hold the glass was now slowly, teasingly making its way up the skin of my naked arm, breaking a wave of goosebumps in its wake.

My whole body quivered, and my next exhale came out shaky; it was too audible in the tense atmosphere between the two of us. He must have definitely heard and felt my reaction, judging by his soft snicker, expression full of amusement and desire. Then his eyes bore into me, into my very soul, and threatened to consume me.

“I’d let you do that and a whole lot more, princess,” it was a whisper, but that didn’t take away from the intensity of the statement and the promise in his words. It poured over me like hot honey, my back immediately straightening and thighs pushing together on instinct, trying to contain the gush of sensations hitting my lower tummy and my heat. Very embarrassingly, I could already feel my panties rapidly getting wetter and wetter; the effect of the man was immense and he knew it very well, judging by the smug aura.

With a satisfied grin his hand moved from my arm down to my thigh, squeezing the flesh right under the hem of my mini skirt. The twitch that tore through me was completely involuntary and once again I found myself fighting for every shaky breath taken.

A quiet melodic laugh hit my ears and then the ginger menace leaned even closer to whisper straight into my ear. “Cute,” was all he muttered before he pulled all the way away from me, raising his hand to catch the attention of the barman, “but first, let me treat you to a drink, kitten.”

That suddenly snapped me back into reality and my brain jumped back online. As if waking up from a terribly amazingly sweet dream, I remembered the reason why I came over in the first place – the bet. The bet I thought I would absolutely fail at that I was about to complete now.

A laugh bubbled out of my throat, sweet and mischievous, and all the confidence I pretended to feel before rushed through my body straight into my head. With a giggle I leaned in and said: “A drink you say, huh?”

My smug smirk must have been awfully annoying, but the man only looked at me with curious eyes. He sensed the change in my behaviour immediately and it threw him for a loop – his amazingly brave little lamb was now laughing at him like the she was the wolf? His head tilted to the side as he tried to figure me out, but I only made sure he was watching me as I gestured thumbs up back to my friends.

The whole table erupted into cheers, Yeri was wildly gesturing something to me and it took a moment to realise she was trying to say I won. Her finger was pointing at her phone that had the stopwatch app open and she was laughing joyfully and sending me thumbs up. I grinned at her back, elated that I was able to not only overcome the initial fear but also best all the others.

Turning back to the ginger who was watching the whole interaction with curious surprised eyes, suddenly unsure and a little less dominant. I giggled at him, happily plucked the prepared colourful drink from his waiting hand and stood up, not before bowing to him slightly.

“Thank you very much, I appreciate your help,” I teased him with a wide smile, going as far as to lean heavily into his side until my lips were almost pressed to his ear as he did to me earlier and then whispered my killer shot: “It was pleasure doing business with you.”

With that I walked away, hips swaying side to side and confidence like I’d never felt coursing through my veins. The atmosphere at the table was unrivalled, and I had to admit it was probably the most fun I’d ever had on a night out so far, and I probably indulged in the free drinks far more than I should have.

But whenever I’d start feeling a little bad for my behaviour, I’d shyly look towards the bar, hoping I wouldn’t see the man too upset. He wasn’t. Anytime our eyes met, the wild primal hunger reflected in his would threaten swallow me whole, sending little shocks of pleasure and heat through my whole body.

That night I spent dancing feeling those eyes bore into me, eating up my every movement and salivating over me so openly I felt the fire of his lust all across the club. He never disappointed, never failed to deliver, and I lived for it.

And if I put on a little more show than I usually did while swaying my hips and dancing to slow sensual beats, that was only my business.

“I can’t believe you managed to talk me into coming here again,” I muttered grumpily to Yeri, who was happily vibrating next to me, her wide grin almost infecting me with the joy as well, but I held steadfast and kept on a frown just because. To prove a point, actually.

The girls (the same group as last time) were excitedly chattering in the line right behind us as we stood in the blistering heat of the setting sun on the street, waiting to be let inside a club. Why yes, it was the same club as last time.

The fateful Saturday night happened already full two weeks ago, and since then I haven’t stopped listening about it.

As my friends watched my interaction with the handsome stranger (the next morning, incredibly sore and hungover, I shamefully realised I didn’t even know his name), it suddenly was less about the bet for them and more about rooting for me to go and actually fuck him. I was so embarrassed about their loud drunken outbursts, trying to push me back into his direction and very unsubtly begging me to go and “get some premium dick”, but I stood my ground and never strayed from the dancefloor.

When we were leaving at 4 am – tired, already in the awful stages of slowly sobering up and with melting makeup and blistering feet, I was hounded the whole time about going to get his number at least (which I didn’t). I told them some things just end this way and I was okay with it (I wasn’t). In reality I was just a big fat coward.

The following two weeks were hell on earth – nobody, and I mean nobody, ever stopped talking about the ginger guy and how he had me folding with two or three lines and some charming smirks. The amount of scolding I got daily for not taking him up on his offer or at least giving him some contact info was insane, and I was slowly losing my patience with it.

That’s why when this Saturday the suggestion to go to the club again was thrown into the group chat, I knew it was more about them hoping I’d bump into him again than actually liking the club itself. I fought, valiantly, but I was outvoted. Someone even tried vetoing my disagreement.

So that’s how I found myself here, about to walk inside again in a black pleated mini-skirt, black crop with a heart cutout over my cleavage and cute little strapped heels (outfit courtesy of Yeri who wouldn’t let me walk out of my room until she approved that I was ‘extremely fuckable’) and some courageous makeup that I was slightly unsure about but everyone kept saying it was hot.

I was nervously shuffling, leaning into Yeri’s side as she started comforting me and calming me down.

“Don’t you think it’s even more awkward, seeing him again after I fucked him over like that?” I mumbled into her shoulder, careful about not smudging my red lipstick all over her pretty pink dress. Her arm coiled around me tighter and she quickly shook her head, her curled hair hitting me int the face with every move.

“Absolutely not, you think I didn’t see the way he was eye-fucking you the whole rest of the night? That was foreplay, baby. Now it’s time for the main course,” she recited confidently, and finally pushed us towards the stairs down now that the whole group was inside. I didn’t fully agree with her, to me it was obvious the connection kinda fizzled out by the end of the night, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

Tonight I’d go along with them, comfort them through the disappointment of him not being here (because what are the chances, honestly), and if he does show up I’d give him the awkward wave and move on and then they can cry about how anti-climactic this whole thing was. They’ll be sad for about ten minutes and then buy shots and promptly forget about any guys.

That was my plan for the night.

And for a while, everything went according to it. Coming down into the main hall of the club, all eyes (even mine, but I’d never admit it out loud) eagerly turned to the bar which the man was glued to the entire time, only to not see any sign of the ginger bombshell. My heart quivered in disappointment only a tiny bit, but I didn’t let them see, only gave them a look that screamed ‘I told you so’ and moved on.

During the first few rounds I scolded myself for actually letting myself get swayed by their words and hoping for his presence against my better judgement, and quickly convinced my heart that it was for the better he didn’t show up.

For a few hours we danced and drank, and it almost seemed that everyone started forgetting the reason why they even pushed to come here, the whole experience slowly turning into a normal night out, when suddenly Yeri that was dancing next to me loudly gasped into my ear.

It alerted me to her, but before I could even turn to her, she started wildly slapping my shoulder until it hurt.

“Ow, ow! Stop!” I slapped her hand away, considerably gentler than she did to me, and scowled at her slightly irritated with the commotion.

“He’s actually here!” she screamed that in my face, but with the loud music pumping all around us she might as well been whispering. The statement took the wind out of the sails of my slight annoyance and I floundered, stuttering and staring at her wide-eyed.

When Yeri realised I was too shocked to look myself, she grabbed my shoulders and forcefully turned me in the direction of the bar. I almost wanted to close my eyes, not even wanting to believe he actually did come to the club two weeks later and now I was facing the real chance of a terrible let-down, but at the same time I yearned to catch another glimpse of the ginger demon that swung my world upside down in literal seconds.

Tonight he was wearing a plain black hoodie and wider jeans with a single cut on both of his knees, showing off some pale skin that glistened under the flashing lights. He sat in the same spot, which meant currently his back was turned to us and he was none-the-wiser to our presence. He was locked into a long conversation with one of the guys manning the bar. They seemed pretty friendly, which spoke of the fact that he was most probably a frequent visitor.

I felt my palms getting clammy as I suddenly sweated for a very different reason than before. Yeri was excitedly shouting and gesturing at the rest of the group, and I saw some of their very crude and very dirty gestures back, before I turned back to the bar blushing and embarrassed.

Before I knew it, Yeri was fighting our way through the crowd towards the bar and I twisted a little in her hold, panicking and ashamed.

“Yeri, wait! God, please wait!” I pleaded with her, and something in my voice must have been truly desperate because she actually listened to me. With troubled eyes she gave me a once over, clocked in the shaky eyes and unsure knees, and then changed the direction towards the hall with toilets.

It was relatively calmer there, the bass still booming through the walls and the echo of the song playing reaching our ears, but we could actually speak in a semblance of privacy where usually no one lingered for too long.

“What’s wrong?” my best friend asked, and to her credit, she was truly worried, but I couldn’t believe she didn’t understand. I threw my hands out and looked at her incredulously.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?” I asked her, exasperated, “What don’t you understand about the fact that I maybe don’t want to talk to him again?!” My voice raised a little, and I did feel bad about it, but the whole situation put me too much on edge to apologise immediately.

Yeri didn’t seem to be too offended, instead she just watched me with her steady all-knowing eyes, and it felt like they saw all the way inside my insecure little soul. My face crumbled under the power of that, and I knew she’d have me spilling everything to her anyway by the end of this conversation.

“Y/N, you literally have nothing to worry about,” her guess was correct, just as I feared, and I avoided her softened loving gaze, “You’re absolutely gorgeous, and I know you know that, and I know you think you’re too awkward… But you had that man literally drooling all over himself. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you until the moment you walked out of that bar. He wants you, a lot.”

“I know that we kind of stared at each other, but I don’t know…” I told her and I hated how weak and vulnerable my voice turned as I spilled out my insecurities to her, “the novelty kind of wore off, didn’t it? Now I’m just an awkward girl stuttering under the gaze of the hottest guy I’ve ever fucking seen. I could barely get a word out when he looked at me.” That had my friend smirking up a storm and I narrowed my eyes at her, already knowing she was about to annoy the shit out of me.

“Yeah, and as someone who watched your entire interaction, he fucking loved it,” she said firmly, a teasing lilt to her words, “Please, trust me. Do you trust me?” Of course I fucking trusted her, so I petulantly nodded, even though I was grumbling to myself that it had nothing to do with that.

“Do you trust that I have a set of functioning eyes?” she teased some more, grinning at me mischievously as she poked me in my ribs with her fingers. Even as I tried to stay upset, the laugh was punched out of me completely involuntarily and I found myself slowly relaxing. When I nodded, her grin turned all happy and toothy.

“Then trust me when I say that the moment you walk up to him, he’ll be over the fucking moon,” her voice was soft and loving, and it almost made me a little mushy, “and trust me when I say that tonight he’ll definitely not let you walk away from him.” She winked as she said that and I laughed at her, pushing her a little teasingly.

I did feel lighter and less stressed. I felt like I could actually go and talk to him again, and I smiled at my best friend, knowing she just wanted the best for me and was always on my side.

“And if he turns out to be a dick, then you’ll come back and I’ll buy us a drink and we’ll curse him out,” she added cheekily, already stepping away from me to head back onto the dancefloor. That made me laugh, because… as if I didn’t say that before.

Rejuvenated and slightly more confident, I turned from Yeri and headed in the opposite direction she went in – straight to the bar. The guy was still sitting there, still turned away from me, but now he seemed to be back to not really engaging with anyone, not even the friendly smiling barman that was currently serving drinks to someone while laughing with his coworker… until he wasn’t.

In an inopportune moment his head turned just right for me to graze the corner of his eye and then he was full on swinging around to do a double take, startling the poor guy he worked with. Suddenly there were two sets of eyes trained on me and I froze, blushing under their gazes as the recognition set in and teasing smirks played on both of their faces.

The dark-haired one then went to wave his hand, but immediately I realised it wasn’t to greet me but to alert the ginger who was kind of just staring off into nowhere. To keep the element of surprise, I lunged into movement, basically jumping the last few steps and crashing into the bar in a terrible déjà vu, trying to look elegant and sexy even as I winced lightly at the impact.

My back was now turned to the two little shits behind the bar, and I could only imagine the expression on their faces, but I was too preoccupied with the wide-eyed stare from the man of the hour himself.

This time he shook off the surprise way quicker, relaxing almost immediately as he realised who I was, a truly smug smirk splitting his face. His gaze was unabashedly travelling all over me, taking in every detail, and I was suddenly reminded of how intense it was to be in the centre of his attention.

“Well, well, look who it is,” he drawled out, but it was more amused than anything and I slowly started letting go of the fear that he was incredibly mad at me for our last meeting, “what, looking for another free drink?”

I flushed with embarrassment, avoiding his eyes as much as possible, which wasn’t that much of a great idea when that brought me to staring at his hands. His cursed, beautiful hands that never strayed too far from my dreams even as I tried to forget about the man.

They started flexing, stretching across the expanse of the thick glass and showcasing their strength, and I realised I was caught. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my plight, I turned my gaze somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fixating on a pillar or something that stood directly behind.

“Sorry about that, it was a stupid game,” I stuttered out, trying to ignore his insistent attempts to move his head to where my eyes were trained at, “It was quite rude of me.” He chuckled and I could basically feel the entertainment seeping off of him in waves.

“Don’t worry about it princess,” the velvety purr was back and the ginger clearly decided that if I wasn’t going to look at him, he’ll just try every dirty trick in the book. He leaned into me, lips easily finding the shell of my ear as his hand weightily clasped over the exposed skin of my thigh.

“There’s a very easy way for you to make it up to me,” he whispered languidly, caressing over me with his sweet words, “this time when I buy you a drink, don’t run off, as easy as that.” I was so embarrassed by my previous actions I found it hard to actually answer, so I just cleared my throat and hummed low in my throat in agreement.

He seemed satisfied with that, hand moving from my leg to possessively squeeze at my waist as if he was insuring I really wouldn’t leave as soon as I got my drink, and I did have to laugh at that. His narrowed eyes hit me as soon as he heard my giggles, the teasing reprimand in them spoke volumes, but he stayed silent, hand waving for the barman while his eyes never left mine.

“What’s up,” came the low baritone of the guy as he came closer to us. I could clearly hear the amusement in his voice, but the informal address also didn’t escape me, and I started wondering who this guy actually was. This time I would at least leave the bar knowing his name, if nothing else.

Tuning out while he was ordering, I was just about to ask for his name, when the teasing voice of the younger guy registered back into my brain.

“And would that be on the bar, Yoongi-hyung?” it was some kind of a joke, judging by (apparently) Yoongi’s scoff even as he clearly wasn’t mad or annoyed, and he shot back with: “Stop asking stupid questions, Tae.” It was all jokes and games, the two men laughing and smiling at each other, when I froze in his hold.

Wait a minute. On the bar. Yoongi. Hyung. A memory rushed to the forefront of my mind – Hana excitedly rattling off about a club she wanted to go to, that she heard about because apparently the word on the streets was the owners were super hot. Saturday, two weeks ago, as she dragged us off into this club. A club owned by some guy called Min Yoongi and his friend Jung Hoseok.

The very same guy that was currently watching me go through this whole rollercoaster of realisations with an amused grin on his face, hand still securely curled around my waist and pushing me into the bar.

Jesus fucking christ.

I wasn’t actually sure whether I paled or blushed, but something crazy was happening with my face as I opened and closed my mouth like a beached fish fighting for its life, finger slowly lifting and wordlessly pointing towards the ginger man.

Yoongi finally couldn’t hold it back anymore and burst out laughing, the pure joy on his face making him look even more impossibly handsome with his cute smile and eyes closed in glee, but then he was suddenly fixing me with another one of his cocksure smirks and leaning closer.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, and his excitement was suddenly palpable between us, his whole body trying to curl around me eagerly, “don’t tell me you didn’t even know whose hands you wanted to choke you so bad?” My breath got stuck in my throat fighting to stutter out, and then I was just all pliable and melting right in his arms. That’s all it took, and it was absolutely pathetic on my part, but I couldn’t really bring myself to feel ashamed about it, especially not when Yoongi was pulling me closer, off the bar stool and nearly wedging me between himself and the wooden bar.

“Come on, princess, where’s my cocky little tease telling me the naughtiest things and then walking away with a huge fucking grin on her face?” the man teased me, so close that his hot breath was hitting the crook of my neck as I shivered and trembled under him, “You’re being such a good girl right now, I’m beginning to think this might be another one of your ploys.”

At his words, a surge of confidence hit me, reinforced by the clear lust that was dripping off of his voice, off of his aura. Suddenly I was back to the night two weeks ago, preening under his starving eyes, each moment between us packed with so much unreleased sexual tension it might have set the whole club on fire.

While Yoongi tentatively nosed under my ear, testing the waters afraid he’d push me away by being too much too fast, I sneaked my arm up his back aiming to give him exactly what he wanted.

Snaking my hand into his hair, I heard his little sigh, body pulling into me a little further as he took it as an encouragement to continue. Just as his lips lightly kissed at my neck, the slightest sweetest hint of tongue tasting the salty sweat, I grabbed a handful of the ginger locks and pulled, dragging his face away from me.

The moment our eyes met, it was like an electric current went off between us, his pupils dilated and darkened, consumed with desire, and mine couldn’t have looked much different. There was slight annoyance at my action written on his pretty face, but the grin was as amused as ever, pleased, even, that I dared to go against him.

My tongue slipped through my smirking lips very briefly, just teasing the man with little extra disobedience, and it worked to pull his attention, gaze trained on my blood red lips.

“There she is,” he whispered that almost reverently, the unfiltered joy running through him on a shiver, and I saw the exact moment he lost the battle to his instincts and surged to claim my mouth in a searing kiss.

Only… he never got there. Yoongi abruptly stopped midway, eyes jumping somewhere behind my shoulder, and I almost whined out loud, so desperate for his attention after I had it for a few brief moments.

But then his grin turned nasty, just downright filthy, and a shiver of arousal plundered through me. Before I knew what was happening, brain already muddled by this guy almost beyond recognition, he was spinning me in his hold. My back hit his chest, his hand splaying over my stomach in the process, and I was greeted with a delicious sight.

There was a man sitting in the chair that I was previously occupying before Yoongi pulled me off to himself, he was leaning his head on his hand that was propped up on the bar, watching us with an amused smirk and hungry eyes. I flushed under his gaze, and also from realising that he’d been watching us, but with the slightest curl of shame in my stomach I found that I really didn’t mind at all.

This guy was insanely attractive as well, he had dark hair slicked back and swept off of his forehead and an expanse of skin on show. He was also dressed in all black, but a very different vibe – dress pants that hugged his waist and hips nicely, accentuating his slim form, a silken blouse that was open all the way to his fucking belly button, but somehow it still looked extremely stylish and tasteful, covering just enough while giving you a taste of exquisite miles of honey-toned skin. He topped it off with a black suit jacket that fell past his hips and hung off of him nicely. For some reason he was also wearing his sunglasses, even here inside the club.

Looking at him made me feel like a horny nun in a sex shop. I swear to god I started sweating under his obviously interested eyes that peered over the rim of those black glasses and lingered on Yoongi’s possessive hold around my waist.

His hand swiftly tugged the sunglasses off and when he looked at my face again, there was a bright friendly smile on his, but something sharper and darker lurked beneath it, sending shivers down my spine in anticipation.

“Having a fun night, hyung?” he asked, voice happy and teasing, a laugh spilling out of him effortlessly like it was natural for him to do that with every word. Behind me there was a slight rumble as well, and I could only guess what kind of expression graced the ginger man’s face, but something hungry reflected in the newcomer at seeing it.

“Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi said in greeting and I jerked, recognising that name immediately. Amusement pulsed in the air, making me feel like I suddenly got caught between two starving wolves, while I just stood there wide-eyed and blushing. “You wouldn’t believe who returned to me tonight,” the older man continued, and I could hear the shit-eating grin in his intonation.

The hand that wasn’t currently lightly caressing the exposed sliver of skin between my crop and my skirt lifted from its place on the bar and laid gently on my neck, hold just strong enough to feel its weight there and fix me in place, but not to actually grasp. My heart stammered a few times in my chest, a needy noise getting stuck in my throat and tampering off into a little whiny exhale. My face was burning, but the interest of the two men seemed to skyrocket at the sound.

“Oh!” the exclamation out of Hoseok’s mouth was full of unbridled thrill and he leaned closer as well, recognising the gesture as something to do specifically with me in a way that sent shame and excitement through me, “Look who it is, our very own Cinderella!” Now when his gaze swept over me, there was a slight glaze over it, like he was putting the body to the tale he must have heard from Yoongi himself.

“So this is she,” the dark-haired man said finally when his eyes feasted enough, sparkles reflecting in them as he stared me down before he offered me his hand. Kind of dumbfounded I reached for it on instinct, making me even more aware of Yoongi’s hands coiled all around my body.

Hoseok quickly grabbed it as soon as it got within his reach, but instead of a handshake he pulled my hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the top, eyes sending me cheeky glances as I blushed under the ministration.

“Nice to meet you, Cinderella, my name is Hoseok,” he stated sensually, the fire that was steadily burning right under his surface momentarily showing, and then he pulled back all sunshiney and smiley again, like he wasn’t staring me down like a predator just a second ago.

“Oh, that’s right,” Yoongi suddenly mumbled, and I shamefully realised I was so pulled into Hoseok’s aura I forgot about the presence glued to my back, “What is your name, princess?” The dark-haired man in front of me suddenly gasped loudly, jokingly slapping his friend’s shoulder in reprimand.

“Hyung, you haven’t asked her till now?” he whined loudly, draping himself over the counter a little bit and making himself comfortable leaning his head on his hand again, “How incredibly rude of you. You were about to stick your tongue down her throat without even introducing yourself.” I flushed at the reminder of what got interrupted by Hoseok’s arrival, quickly averting my eyes and staring at the floor shyly.

There were few chuckles all around, and then the hands released me. I stumbled a little, not expecting to lose my tether and allowing my legs to grow weak knowing I was being held up, but thankfully Hoseok seemed to have quite quick reflexes, and his hand shot out to grab my hip, righting me on my feet. I mumbled my thanks and leaned on the bar casually like I was just waiting for my drink, trying to ignore the mounting sexual tension between the three of us.

Quickly clearing my throat, I hoped to dispel the slight awkwardness that suddenly overtook me, drumming my fingers on the bar. Suddenly realising that the drink Yoongi ordered for me stood completely forgotten and melting there, I reached for it and started downing it while I felt their amused but still ravenous eyes on my figure.

“I know, Hobi-ya, I’ve been such a bad host,” Yoongi purred out, fingers playing with the glass with what I assumed was whiskey. Since every time my gaze got stuck on his perfect hands his ego seemed to grow even more (which I thought to be impossible, but Yoongi proved to be an impossible man, so it checked out), I tried to avoid the sight, but my eyes still got dragged down every once in a while, lured in by the massive rings flashing under the lights and the pretty veins flexing with every movement.

There was some rapport between them, shooting one clever dirty remark after another, but I sort of tuned them out for a moment, getting lost in the world of possibilities that opened before me quite abruptly. I try to win a bet and end up getting chatted up by not one, but two owners of the very club. I almost wanted to run off just to whisper this to Yeri and giggle about it with Hana, some slight snickers escaping my mouth at the image of her wide-open mouth at finding out who these guys were.

“What are you laughing at, Cinderella?” a voice right next to my ear tears me out of my musings, and I immediately shuddered, feeling the hot puff of air of his breath hitting the tender skin of my neck. Hoseok was grinning at me wickedly when I turned to him, so close I could count all of his perfect pretty lashes.

Belatedly I realised I never actually introduced myself, the conversation getting derailed immediately and I got so flustered I forgot he even asked, so I cleared my throat and said: “My name’s Y/N.” It came out a little scratchy still, emphasizing how deliciously nervous they made me, which in turn served to excite them even more – I could see it in their dark expectant eyes.

Then I smirked, regaining a little bit of sense now that I wasn’t helplessly caught in Yoongi’s sweet net. “And that’s none of your business,” I added, barely supressing the desire to stick out my tongue at him. I’d keep that one in the arsenal, I was sure I’d get many a chance to be bratty at him until the morning.

Hoseok hummed, a spark running through him at the tiniest bit of attitude, but then he smirked back.

“I see what you mean, hyung, you do have to push her a little to get to that fire,” the dark-haired man said almost too conversationally, like they were discussing their favourite drinks. His head tilted as he regarded me and I felt almost undressed under the weight of that stare. Looking at him, he was clearly already thinking of how he’d like to push me to get the reactions he wanted, so I chose to ignore him even as heat threatened to overtake my face.

Instead I narrowed my eyes at Yoongi, who was trying to look as innocent as possible but he couldn’t hide the devilish spark about him, his smile a little too sharp to get away with anything.

“What exactly have you been telling him?” my voice tilted in faux anger, but there was a grin tugging at my lips even as I was attempting to fix him with my stare. Needless to say, he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

Leaning forward, until our noses were almost brushing and our breaths mingled, and I felt my knees getting a little weak again, he grinned. “Nothing but the truth.” We were locked in what I’d call an eye-fucking staring contest, but neither of us wanted to back down. As I started to feel a little more comfortable in their presence, I quickly found my spine again, and they clearly liked when I sassed them a little. So I let go and slipped into my usual stance.

“Well, I originally came here to talk shop, but this is much more interesting,” came Hoseok’s voice from our right, and we both looked over at the same time. He was watching us with an obvious smile, but not the ones like before, no. This one made me shiver (as if they haven’t been doing that for the entire night).

I quickly spun around, leaning on the bar with my back instead of my front, and looked seemingly carelessly into the crowd, partly trying to annoy them a little and partly actually searching for Yeri to make sure she knew I was okay.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s clearly nothing happening,” I sing-songed slyly, making sure I put a little distance between all of us. Yoongi, who was clearly the one more experienced with me bolting, was shifting around on his stool, and for the first time that evening I realised how much they both towered over me even with my heels, even when they both sat and I was standing. It was exhilarating, like getting slowly sweetly hunted.

I made eye contact with my best friend exactly the second two hands from two different directions wrapped around me and fixed me to place, Hoseok’s elegant hand squeezing at my waist while Yoongi’s bejewelled one made itself home in the crook of my neck, as close to grabbing me by the throat as he could get away with in the middle of a crowded club.

I stuttered out a gasp, my thoughts screeching to a halt and Yoongi took the chance to dip down to my ear and whisper: “You’re not running away from us that easily, pretty girl.” I couldn’t help the little smirk, thinking back to Yeri’s words promising me that if I went to speak to him, he wouldn’t let me go again. Oh how right she was, and she’d be super annoying about it later, but right now I was so glad she convinced me to go I’d accept all the teasing later.

Yeri was watching the interaction with sharp eyes, face a little worried at the sudden appearance of a second man. She raised her hand in the universal ‘ok’ gesture, a question written into her features. I quickly nodded, not wanting to leave her hanging, and then turned to Yoongi and staring right into his eyes.

“If I knew you were this desperate for me, I’d have given you a few more crumbs last time,” I teased him shamelessly, too satisfied with myself for Yoongi’s liking. He growled lightly, the rumble rising through his chest and throat and vibrating on my shoulder. The ginger ducked his head back into my neck and then there was a quick warning nip to the soft skin, which had me gasping breathlessly, thrumming in their arms.

Hoseok was quietly laughing to my right, free hand amusing itself by playing with my dark curled hair while he amusedly watched his hyung getting provoked like that.

With blown out pupils and wild heart jumping around in my chest I turned again to find Yeri’s eyes once more. She was glancing our way occasionally, and by now the other girls noticed as well, all hooting and hollering and gesturing at me happily. I grinned back, and then pulled out my phone from my little bag and tapped it so everyone saw. It was our gesture to have them check their messages.

With that I slowly pulled myself from their hands, and as possessively as they both clutched at me, once I actually showed the intent to leave, they both let go easily, leaning back in their chairs. I could see the moment of nervousness in Yoongi’s eyes, probably afraid he’d taken it too far with the bite, but I smirked at both of them, trying to ease them a little.

“Gentlemen, I need to use the restroom,” I announced heartily, thrusting my bag into Hoseok’s hands, “I trust this will be safe with you.” With a little wink, clutching my phone in hand, I turned on my heel and happily bounced through the throngs of people towards the quiet hallway.

Once there, I quickly pulled up the group chat, not being able to keep this all to myself anymore.

Petty bitch: you won’t fucking believe me what I found out

The slew of messages was immediate, some begging for the tea and some berating me for texting them when I had two very hot men to make out with.

Pink nightmare: istfg if you don’t tell me now

Petty bitch: calm down lol, i’m not gonna leave you hanging

Petty bitch: you know who these guys are?

Petty bitch: min yoongi and jung hoseok

Dressed to distress: ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL RIGHT NOW??????

Dressed to distress: Y/N YOU BETTER NOT BE PULLING YM BALLS RIHGT NOW

Dressed to distress: istfg you better go there and fuck them until they can’t walk or i’ll never speak to you again

Pink nightmare: i think Hana almost passed out when she read that

Dressed to distress: shut up it’s big news

Dressed to distress: it’s THE min yoongi and jung hoseok

Dressed to distress: FUCK THEM. N O W.

I was laughing at the endless barrage of messages, Hana and Yeri taking over the group chat with their combined freaking out and subtle threats to end our friendship if I leave again. The smile on my face was fixed permanent at that point, and the warmth spread through me quickly knowing I had such support out there, even though it was about getting fucked senseless.

Petty bitch: aye aye captain, will do sir

Dressed to distress: you better

Petty bitch: you were right tho yeri, about what you said before

Pink nightmare: i know ;)

With one last smile at the screen, I locked the device again and made my way back to the bar, where the two man conversed leisurely. A third chair was pulled between them, waiting and empty, and Hoseok was still securely clutching onto the little red handbag. I supposed that was the only reason they were being so chill, though I wouldn’t understand anyone that would be able to walk away from them for the second time.

Confidently walking over, I went straight for the empty stool and sat down without glancing at either of the men, instead gesturing at the smiley barman, Tae if I remembered correctly. He waved at me and without saying anything he started preparing my drink.

Well, there was a certain advantage to being the girl that his bosses were about to fuck.

Said men didn’t waste a second and immediately engulfed me in their warmth, flanking both my sides, hands wandering around the small of my back or the exposed skin of my thighs (that one was definitely Yoongi, judging by the cooling feeling of heavy jewellery dragging across the heated skin that made me shiver more than I was prepared to admit).

A small talk started up between us, talking about mostly nothing or inconsequential things, about what we did that day or whether I also got mad at the latest change in bus schedule (Hoseok got weirdly passionate about that, considering he most definitely either drove a high-end car or even had a chauffeur).

But it was increasingly more difficult to pay attention to a single thing that was said when their hands slowly but surely strayed more and got bolder and bolder, with Hoseok’s sliding up, up, under my little top, until his thumb was sliding across the line of my bra, while Yoongi had managed to slowly inch his way almost all the way under my skirt. He was so close to accidentally brushing against the edge of my panties, and it was driving me insane.

I was endlessly squirming in my seat, legs constantly fighting to either fall further open or squeeze under the rush of sensations, either giving the smug man more opportunities to caress my inner thigh or just trapping his hand there.

And as if sensing what Yoongi was doing, and how he kept me on edge, Hoseok begun inching his head closer, leaning in until I felt every word he said on the skin of my naked shoulder, until his soft lips were brushing against me with every laugh and murmur, sometimes even giving up the pretence of polite conversation and just openly kissing his way around my crop when he wasn’t talking.

It took me entirely too long to realise they were just winding me up on purpose, finding new stupid stuff to bring up just to prolong the sweet torture.

I snapped sometimes in the middle of a heated debate over soap dispensers in public bathrooms, just as Yoongi was detailing his thought process over choosing the ones they had in their restrooms.

“Are you planning to finger me right here on the bar?” I jumped into his spiel, the frustration bleeding into my voice, “Or are we going to talk about soap until morning?” Yoongi immediately shut up, amused grin playing on his lips and his hand flexing on my thigh at the mention of fingering. Hoseok also froze where he was in the middle of gently mouthing at the back of my neck, and I felt his lips pull into a smirk.

Tae that was just passing by looked horrified though and started protesting basically as soon as I was done with my little outburst.

Before I knew what was happening, both men were on their feet and pulling me along, each one hand in their grasp. There was a quick understanding between them, and they both started off in the same direction.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Hoseok purred, overcome by the excitement, “No matter how hot fingering you at the bar would be, let’s reserve that for when the club’s closed.” The promise of future endeavours worked like a charm on me, and I quickly melted into their embrace, speeding up to keep up with their rushed steps.

Turns out, they were going towards a dark door, coloured just well enough to blend into the walls. Yoongi impatiently started unlocking it, almost barging into it once the key finally turned. It opened to a narrow little barren hallway that ended in stairs going up.

The three of us couldn’t fit there side by side, so I ended up with Hoseok’s arm around my shoulders with Yoongi going ahead, taking the stairs by two. Up there was a little space and a singular door, which finally led into what must have been their office space.

It was a nice room, a little dark, there was only a single small window and it was currently night outside, but it was decorated nicely, giving it a modern yet cozy feel. There was a dark wood desk in one corner, with a massive chair behind it, and a nice little conference table with a comfortable sofa in the other.

Hoseok led us straight towards there, but just as I wanted to move to sit on the nice dark blue furnishing, I was pulled down by the man and we both tumbled onto the soft carpet instead. He cleverly manoeuvred me so that once down, I ended up almost in his lap, and his arm coiled around my waist quickly to keep me pressed up against him.

I’d have laughed at his cheekiness, I would have, but then his face was buried in my neck and finally kissing in earnest, and all that came out of me was a pleased sigh. There was clinking coming from somewhere behind us, but I ignored it in favour of running my hand up Hoseok’s back until it was tangled into his styled hair. He released a few pleasured chuffs and then he was pulling back.

I whined, I couldn’t help myself, and I wasn’t even particularly ashamed of it once I saw his teasing smile. The dark-haired man amused himself by pressing in closer, our lips only a breath away, and then jerking from me when I tried to close the distance, laughing in earnest at my frustration.

His hands kneaded my hips, similarly pulling me close enough but then keeping me in place when I tried to shuffle closer, until I had enough. I was so turned on, not only from the teasing from before, worked up from their gentle touches on the bar, but also from being so close to finally having what I wanted only to be entertainment for him. So fine, if he wanted to play, let’s play.

Using the hand in his hair, I tugged at it a little harsher than before, enough to jerk Hoseok’s head back as he wasn’t expecting it. A little hiss of pain escaped his lips, but even as I quickly descended on him I saw the swirl of arousal in his eyes. Using the moment of surprise, I finally crashed our lips together and barrelled into him, not giving him a chance to stop me when I finally climbed atop his lap properly and made myself home there.

He took it all in stride, giving me what I wanted, happily so if his overjoyed little noises were anything to go by. I didn’t give him a chance to tease more by controlling the pace of the kiss, instead I kissed him filthily from the beginning, going in hard.

Hoseok matched my pace easily, accepting all of my desire and doubling it with his own, wasting no time in licking into my mouth, pushing his tongue in and claiming me thoroughly. We battled for dominance briefly, our tongues messily pushing against each other, the kiss descending into heated wet chaos, but it was mind-meltingly good and I couldn’t stop the outpouring of moans that the man eagerly swallowed and answered with his own.

When we finally separated for air, I suddenly became aware of the fact that I’ve been rocking against him as his hands firmly gripped at my waist, supporting the flow of my movements.

We breathed heavily into each other, my brain already muddled and its only goal turning to getting railed into oblivion. Hoseok’s gaze was trained somewhere off to my left and I turned, being greeted by the sight of Yoongi leisurely sprawled over the sofa, whiskey glass hanging from his hand.

His eyes were beyond starving, fixed on us in a manner that excited me as much as it unnerved me, but then Hoseok was chuckling into my ear and whispering “hyung must like the show” and my head was spinning with the force of lust that surged through me.

This time when I lunged for another kiss, the man was already expecting me, accepting me. Hoseok was full of eager noises, sighs and moans and groans, all escaping into my hungry mouth and sounding through the room alongside the wet smacking of our lips. And I wasn’t far behind, the quiet moans spilling out freely as my hips jerked over the man, this time very much with purpose.

There was a bulge increasingly hardening right beneath my soaked centre, and every time I rubbed against it there was a hitch in both of our staggered breathing. My skirt has long since ridden all the way up, pretty much exposing my panties to Yoongi’s eager eyes as he watched me hump his friend.

Our mouths fell apart for breath, but Hoseok immediately trailed wet scorching kisses down my jaw and neck, licking into the skin there. At first I didn’t even realise when the scales of power started tipping the other way, not until I was suddenly pulled up and slammed down on the little table, splayed on my back and with a very horny man attached to me and pushing me into the sturdy wood.

My head was spinning and I could barely see through the haze, the fog filling my mind with every swipe of Hoseok’s talented tongue, and when I bumped into something I didn’t even care that much. Not until the dark-haired man bit down hard at the junction of my neck and I threw my head back with a debauched scream, body seizing and arms flying back in an attempt to grasp onto something.

Soft jean material was suddenly between my fingers, and I started slowly noting that there was a bony leg underneath it.

Hoseok’s hips relentlessly pushed into mine, jerking into me and letting me feel every inch of his now erect cock, still confined to his silken pants.

“Going to ruin your expensive slacks, pretty boy,” I gasped out with a laugh and the man scoffed into the skin in the crook of my neck. His hips slowed down to a drawled-out grind, torturing me with delicious drag of the prominent bulge through the thin material of my panties.

I felt his big strong hand splayed out on the meat of my thigh, holding my leg curled around his hips and pinning me into place.

“I’m not a teenager anymore, angel, I can hold my own,” he purred between licks and kisses, enjoying the slowed down pleasure as it made me squirm in impatience, since the turn in pace was quite sudden.

“Oh yeah? You’re already a big boy?” I teased right back, little gasps and moans escaping me with every sharp nip to my neck. I was already breathless, writhing around on the table under a man who seemed to be gradually more and more cocksure as the seconds ticked by.

Hearing my words, he ground his hips into me with surprising force, shocking a moan out of me. “Can’t you feel for yourself?” he giggled into my ear, upping the tempo and force behind his thrusts until I was thrown around and had no idea where was up and down.

Brain overrun with pleasure, any kind of smart retort died in my throat under the sudden onslaught of pleasure coursing through me, only desperately holding onto Hoseok’s shoulders while he ravaged me. The little table pitifully squeaked under us, but it seemed it would hold even with how wild he was getting.

“Oh? No more witty remarks?” he now fully teased, enjoying this little game we had going, “Do you only behave when you’re fucked into oblivion?”

Before I could respond, Hoseok straightened out, hands migrating to hold down my hips as he jerked into me and laughed down at me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what sight I made – flushed, with messy hair and red lipstick smeared around my lips. His eyes drank me up hungrily, mouth open and tongue licking his lips like I was the most delicious dessert. There was a tinge of red on them from mine too, and with his blown out eyes it painted such an erotic picture I felt myself clench around nothing.

A deep dark chuckle from behind me made me remember the fact that there actually was another person here with us, but I didn’t turn to look at him. Instead I channelled all my energy into smirking towards Hoseok.

He himself was far from collected, a tiny line of sweat breaking out at his hairline and his cheeks were a healthy red colour, eyes hazy and dark. Sensing my rebellion, he smiled sweetly and waited for what I’d grace them with.

“And you think you have it in you to do that?” I gasped out cheekily, almost even winking at him, but instead I settled for letting my tongue peek out slightly and poking my upper lip with it, “A healthy confidence is sexy, but don’t oversell yourself, pretty boy.”

The moment Hoseok’s eyes darkened with slight aroused irritation, face pulling into a hard dominant mask, I knew I’d succeeded in pushing his buttons just right. I felt the hands holding me tighten, but his hips abruptly stilled.

A disbelieving chuckle came from Yoongi, who must have been comfortably sitting on the sofa behind us watching everything unfold. “Now you’ve done it, princess,” his deep raspy voice rumbled amusedly.

Anticipation set heavy into my bones, my whole body thrumming in excitement while I watched the tick in Hoseok’s jaw. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head, no doubt coming up with some way to punish me.

“Well, I think we have to teach our little guest some manners, don’t you hyung?” it was like a switch turned in him and there was no trace of the happy smiley man he was mere minutes ago, now only intense determination shined through his face as he began pulling away from me.

Yoongi hummed, then there was a sound of shifting and suddenly the man’s breaths were hitting my ear, the goosebumped skin of my neck shivering at his abrupt proximity. “I couldn’t agree more, Hob-ah,” the ginger whispered, but in the quiet office it was still perfectly audible.

The smirk that split Hoseok’s face was completely different from the one before and it frankly sent shivers down my spine in a somewhat jittery excitement.

Both men then stood up, leaving me alone on the table. Before I knew it, I was whining like a little abandoned pup, scrambling to get up as well, but a firm gesture to stay from Hoseok had me freezing in my spot, only a whimper escaping my mouth where I laid.

I watched them as they rummaged through a small closet, each pulling out something else. When they turned back to me, Yoongi was hiding something behind his back while Hoseok’s hand was wrapped around with some colourful piece of cloth. They made no move closer to me though, just stood there and watched me sprawled out on the little table.

I was squirming under their heated gazes, a little unsure and a lot desperate. I just wanted their hands on my body, their cocks stuffed in whatever hole they pleased, but I was so awfully alone there on that little table – that must have been illegal. Fighting the whimpers from trickling out of my mouth, I seeped in my embarrassment and lust, eyes begging them for anything.

“Look at her hyung,” Hoseok started, ever the more talkative one of the duo, “look how obedient and desperate she gets when we take the pleasure away from her.” The older man’s eyes glided over me for the thousandth time, hungry and burning, and I almost cowered from them on instinct.

“Not so mouthy now, are we princess?” he teased as well, in that voice of his that made me embarrassingly aroused.

Within moments Hoseok was back onto me, but now he just grabbed my waist and pressed me into the wood, arms and hips holding me from squirming but not touching me in any relief-inducing way.

I almost whined again when suddenly Yoongi’s hands entered my periphery from above, where he was situated back on the sofa behind me. While Hoseok held me still, the man grabbed both of my hands and started gently fastening a tie around the wrists, slowly enough to let me see what he was doing and loosely enough for me to protest anytime.

But the second I saw that happening, my breath hitch in excitement and I arched into Hoseok’s hands, the man quietly snickering to himself.

“This okay?” Yoongi’s voice was completely serious, devoid of any teasing from before. I nodded, but quickly remembered myself and before he could ask I rasped out a “yes!”. The answering smile washed over me along with a little murmur of “good girl” and I positively melted under them, hips desperately pushing down to find Hoseok’s.

“Are you familiar with the colour system?” the dark-haired man asked this time, eyes trained on his hyung carefully twisting and turning the tie to properly fasten a comfortable safe knot on it. I caught myself as I started nodding again, and instead croaked out another affirmative, pulling satisfied smiles out of them just as Yoongi lightly yanked on the binding and the knot shrank and tightened until it was snugly sitting on the skin of my wrists.

“Anything, and I mean anything, feels weird – don’t hesitate to let us know,” with last comforting murmur Yoongi moved back to sit onto the sofa – my nod must have been enough for him – and as he went my arms stretched backwards over my head. The ginger leisurely held onto the fabric like it was a leash, giving me slight room to move, but keeping his presence known.

Hoseok’s reassuring smile melted into a smug smirk and I held my breath in anticipation, ready to accept anything the man had in store for me. But instead of returning to me, he pulled back once more, the hands on my hips now almost bruising.

In a split of a second I found myself flipped over. My front hit the table with a big clank, almost sending the poor piece of furniture to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. Hoseok released a big breath, one hand pushing at the small of my back and keeping me pinned down, while the other started a slow journey up the outside of my thigh.

His teasing fingers at first only lightly grazed underneath the skirt, caressing the sensitive yearning skin before finally pushing the clothing out of the way, completely exposing my panties clad ass to the room. I shivered slightly, but the temperature was comfortable and I was only filled with overwhelming waves of lust and eagerness.

Hoseok’s hand gently caressed the skin for a moment, sometimes kneading and grabbing at the meat of my ass and lulling me into a false sense of security, before abruptly pulling back and landing a harsh slap on the right cheek. I gasped out a choked moan, whole body jerking forward with the force until my hips barrelled straight into the table. A loud bang of the table taking the hit combined with my noise of pleasure sounded through the room in a strange yet satisfying cacophony.

In this position I could clearly see Yoongi lounging back on the sofa watching us with dark eyes, hands flexing on the tie holding my bound wrists. His eyes jumped to mine the second his friend started administering the chosen punishment, something predatory swimming in them at my reaction. In that moment he felt more like a beast than a man, and one that wanted to eat me whole. The thought made me shudder, but in the best way possible.

I was quite sure that my own eyes must have been dazed and hazy with lust, as I could barely see through the film of pleasure blinding me, and Yoongi seemed to love that more than anything.

“Give her another, Hobi,” he encouraged the dark-haired man, and I realised he was probably monitoring whether I was okay as much as enjoying the view.

But all thoughts of anything flew right out of my mind the moment Hoseok’s hand descended onto me again, this time to the left side. The shock of pain ran through me like a zap of electricity, melting into pleasure as soon as it hit my bloodstream. The vision of Yoongi in front of me blurred as my eyes rolled back, a strangled moan releasing into the tensed air between us.

The next four spanks came quickly one right after the other, alternating between the cheeks and leaving behind stinging buzzing skin, more sensitive with every touch. I felt the burn there, and the ache of my hips continuously ramming into the wooden table also kept reminding me my position. But I didn’t care, too busy trying to dampen down my increasingly more high-pitch desperate groans and moans, before I embarrassed myself too much.

The wetness building up between my thighs was almost embarrassing, and I started to worry any moment I would start dripping down my legs just over a few spanks, and then Hoseok would never let me live it down.

Speaking of the devil, the man switched again to gently caressing the reddened tender area, humming lowly in his throat. I slumped onto the table, whining and whimpering at every soft swipe of his hand, every delicate pinch and handful he grabbed. Yoongi was smirking at me, but stayed silent, giving his friend all the space to do whatever he wanted.

“Look at you, being such a good girl now,” he purred slowly behind me, pushing his erection into my clothed core once more and teasing me with the hardened bump griding into me. The sudden realisation that I was wet enough for squelches to be heard with his tight thrusts hit me square in the chest and pushed another pathetic moan out of my throat. His hands once again pinned me down by my hips, making sure I wasn’t squirming underneath him and wouldn’t try to grind back at him, but I heard him groaning under his breath when he realised the same thing as well.

“All I had to do was spank you a little and put you in your place, and suddenly you’re all out of smart remarks,” Hoseok continued smugly (if a little breathlessly), hips smoothly riding me. I could hear his little sighs and half-moans with every thrust, obviously more desperate for relief than he was trying to let on.

I wanted to speak back to him, but my mind was blank, filled only with thoughts of his cock and his hands on me. Opening my mouth, only thing that was able to come out were strangled groans, and I worried I might start drooling soon too. And even if I did manage to speak, no doubt the only thing I’d be able to formulate would be pleas for Hoseok to stuff me full of his cock and fuck me dumb.

Yoongi was watching me with amusement, like I was pathetic, and the humiliation was burning through me and heightening everything I was already feeling.

“Aw, look at her hyung,” Hoseok continued, “can’t even speak now.” The older man hummed in satisfaction, tugging lightly on the tie and jostling me into paying more attention to the interaction. I put the last strains of brain power into talking back, the final try before I would be too lost and cock drunk.

“So pleased with yourselves, aren’t you boys,” the words came out of my mouth slightly slurred, but the cheeky lilt was still clearly detectable, and I chuckled tiredly, shimmying under Hoseok’s firm hands to try and get his cock closer to me.

To which the man swiftly reacted by pulling his hips away and instead bending over me. I felt the feather-light brushes of his shirt over the exposed parts of my back, but Hoseok never came any closer – not enough to feel his skin, only to have the feverish warmth of his body seep slowly into me from above.

“Be careful what you say, pretty,” his low voice warned me, the words delivered a touch too sensually to fully register in my mind, “that is, if you wanna get fucked tonight.”

“How many spanks did you get, princess?” Yoongi’s question came before my hazy brain could even fully process Hoseok’s warning, but I managed to choke out the answer, muddled mind going through the sharp delicious impacts to my skin.

Both men hummed, pleased that I kept track even without being told to. Hoseok finally lowered himself onto me, chest plastered to my back, skin pasted to skin by a thin sheen of sweat.

“Now, I was considering letting you off with six,” he murmured straight into my ear, “but it seems you do need the whole ten.” Then he was gone, only reminder of his presence was the sudden cold spot over me and the tingles running through my skin where we touched, and I shivered. My hips still pushed back needily, and he let me for a few moments, before his hand was back to caressing the throbbing red skin of my bottom.

The first spank was a fast one, delivering a more intense sting than the ones before. I gasped and braced myself, eagerly pushing my ass out and arching my back. Someone chuckled, and I had a hard time deciphering who, all my attention channelled into the two hands fondling the meat of my ass leisurely.

The press of his fingers into the burning flesh was something I swore I’d be able to remember 20 years from now, the sensation almost classifying as a life-changing event for my pathetic little brain as the anticipation of the next three spanks drove me crazy with need.

“She’s presenting nicely like a bitch in heat,” a deep voice whispered breathlessly, mockery and arousal mixing into his tone, “are we sure this is even a punishment for her?” In lieu of answer only a whiney moan left my mouth, hips shaking desperately and attempting to push back just as Hoseok delivered another sharp blow.

The last two were a little hazy for me – they came in a fast succession and immediately after the calming cooling caress of Hoseok’s hand returned, his voice soothing me with reassuring coos and purrs.

“What a good girl,” Yoongi whispered, tugging at the tie again to check on me. The praise poured over me, replenishing me body and soul like I was a thirsty traveller stumbling upon an oasis, and I slowly raised my head from the wood to blearily blink at the man. I was pretty sure there was a line of drool connecting me to the table, but I was too fried to care.

The ginger smiled at me, looking pleased more than anything, but still giving his younger friend free reign. Said man gave my bum a few more gentle pats before he helped me turn around on my back again, hooking my legs over his elbows to make it a little easier for me.

His face was flushed, a predatory grin spread over his face. I watched a drop of sweat slide down his neck and plunge down the perfect almost exposed chest, and while the man’s hair was all messy from our previous kissing, lips red from the lipstick I wore, his clothes were still firmly in place.

He was watching me with such overwhelming desire I almost melted right on the spot, the full force of my arousal making itself known in a single burst of fire. Suddenly the wetness in my panties became nigh unbearable, and my pussy fruitlessly clenched and oozed more juice in hopes of getting stuffed soon. And with Hoseok’s cock so close to my centre I was going even more mad with it.

“What do we think, baby? Have we learnt our lesson?” he asked me in a cheery voice, the taunting lilt provoking me and pushing my heated brain into overdrive to come up with a swift comeback. In the end I let the lust override the reason and blurted out what I really wanted.

“We think,” I started, my voice all breathless with a little rasp, “that maybe you should bury your pretty face in my cunt.” Immediately after those words tumbled out of me, a blush overtook my face in unexpected shyness. Even now I was still getting embarrassed – I’ve never bratted this much to anyone and I’ve certainly never said those exact words before – it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Hoseok tsked at me and then looked to the older man while lightly shaking his head in faux disappointment.

“Oh dear, I think it’s only making her mouthier,” some darker breathier excitement crept into his voice, and it had me alerted in an instant, “what do we do, hyung?” The beastly smirk Yoongi gave in response felt like a bucket of ice water hitting me straight into my face, and I realised that they were planning something more from the beginning and I just played straight into their hands.

“I know these types, Hoseok-ah,” the ginger played along, but he was too excited to sell it properly, “and only one thing ever seems to work on them.” With that his hand reached somewhere down the sofa and grabbed a thin black flexible stick.

A whip. He had a whip.

My mind got transported back to before they spanked me, how Yoongi seemed to hide something behind his back. I got distracted real fast after that, but this must have been it.

I’d never used it before with anyone and as much as slight nervousness set into me, it was heavily overshadowed by the rush of exhilaration. With a single look at it I felt my body jerk in response, pussy clenching and singing in praise.

“Let’s see how bratty you are when you’re too busy crying from overstimulation, princess,” debauchery dripping off of him like pouring rain, pelting me right in my weakest points and leaving me gasping and breathless. I very much did want to see that.

A loud snapping of fingers had me whirling my head back to Hoseok who wore a serious expression, only getting emphasised by the obvious lust swirling in his blackened orbs.

“Colour, baby?” he rasped out, hands kneading the meat of my thighs slowly, in a hypnotising loop of thrills. I swallowed with some difficulty, getting steadily pulled into his intense gaze.

“G-green,” I stuttered out, buckling under the sudden aura these two were exuding, like I only now realised that I was in the presence of two domineering men. The slight hesitation before my answer was noticed as well, and while I was merely taking my time to know surely this is something I wanted, the men seemed to be worried by it.

“You sure?” Hoseok enquired again, mellowing out the rough touch into a gentle caress to make me more comfortable. I nodded, hurriedly and a tad too excitedly, drawing a chuckle from Yoongi still sitting behind me.

“Yes. Green,” I repeated, this time firmer and surer to chase away any doubts they could have. Yoongi’s hand started a slow path along the sensitive inside of my arm, his energy shifting into something more predatory and tangible, making sure I was aware of him.

“Have you ever played with a whip before, princess?” the ginger drawled out sensuously, amusement evident in his tone. I wanted to turn my head to look at him, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way Hoseok’s face crumbled back into lust.

“No…” the word slipped out of my mouth in a whisper. It almost felt like both of them were holding their breath for something, something that was escaping me in my scrambled state.

“Are you excited to try?” came the next question, now feeling Yoongi lightly nose at my wrists, just shy of kissing there, making me shudder under the sensation. I just breathlessly nodded, not having the strength to actually find my voice. The ginger snickered and smacked a loud kiss to one of my wrists.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll go easy on you,” he whispered the promise and then pulled away again, gesturing at Hoseok to do what he wanted. The dark-haired man happily giggled and immediately grabbed my thighs, spreading them without much preamble.

I squeaked in surprise, hands jerking to go cover myself, but they got tugged back into Yoongi’s lap. Hoseok paid me no mind though, and didn’t waste time in putting his lips to the smooth skin near my ankle, showing off with loud wet kisses trailing quickly down.

As he was descending down my legs, his quick skilful hands found their way beneath my skirt (that was barely covering anything anyway) and started tugging at my panties, dragging them up my thighs to take them off. The wet spot spanned almost the entire seat of the panties and the size of it would be more embarrassing if I didn’t see the way Hoseok’s eyes rolled back at the sight, the excitement rushing through his body on a shudder. At the same time a veiny knuckley hand descended onto me from behind and tugged my crop up to release my tits from my bra.

Before I knew it Hoseok was bending over and had his face buried in my cunt while the handy little whip was teasingly circling one of my nipples. I barely managed to gasp out, drowning under sudden barrage of sensations and body growing confused under the different stimulations.

The dark-haired man started enthusiastically licking around my drenched folds, swiftly attaching himself to my clit and sucking with loud slurps, hands tightening on my thighs and keeping them thrown over his shoulders. The zap of pleasure hit me like a tank and I arched, mouth opening on a silent moan – and Yoongi, the bastard that he was, chose that exact moment to raise the whip and slap one of my nipples enough that it stung a little.

The desperate cry that left my mouth was almost unrecognisable from my voice, but it wasn’t a negative noise – quite the opposite, if the rush of slick that hit Hoseok’s hungry mouth still latched onto my pussy was anything to go by. The man groaned, debauched and dark eyes rolling back into his skull, before redoubling his efforts and wildly licking and sucking at the swollen lips and clit, slowly working his tongue around my hole and pushing in.

While my body tried to cope with the flood of liquid fire from Hoseok’s eager ministrations, my brain was continuously stuttering under the stinging sensation of Yoongi’s whip slapping my nipples in a seemingly whimsical manner. The man of course, once he caught wind of my obvious interest, didn’t hold back and used the little tool to alternatingly caress and lightly smack both of my breasts.

The dual stimulation made my brain melt quick, and soon I found myself to be a drooling moaning mess under the ministrations of two eager demons. I was teetering on the edge of cumming, the heat and pleasure accumulating in my lower belly until it was dangerously close to consuming me whole; and with every little suck on my clit and another hit from the whip I jerked a little closer to it snapping.

But it wouldn’t be them if they didn’t play with me a little, and every time Hoseok felt me nearing the edge he pulled off, roughly biting into the meat of my thighs to distract me with more delicious pain while watching his hyung distribute his own discipline on me.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” he moaned helplessly into my skin finally, hand migrating to grab and fondle the bursting tent in his black slacks, groaning in relief immediately.

“Go ahead Hob-ah, have your fun,” Yoongi purred from the couch, the warmed leather of the whip now trying to soothe the sting with gentle caresses. The man didn’t even answer verbally, only let himself slump into me with a loud moan.

Once again he wasted no time, hands scurrying to undo his pants. He quickly shucked of his blouse, revealing the beautiful smooth muscled torso he hid beneath. I only had a moment to fully sink in the beauty of his arms stretching as he pulled his top off before his trousers were pushed down his hips. Sinking all the way to his knees, Hoseok paid them no more attention as he started hurriedly fisting his flushed red cock just begging for release.

Reminiscent of my reaction to getting spanked, I was unwittingly spreading my legs and arching off the table to offer up my pussy to him on a silver platter. The sinful smirk he gave in response made me even wetter (if that was possible), and I released a series of high needy moans.

“Look at our baby, all mute and docile now,” Hoseok teased, smirking up a smug storm, somehow regaining some semblance of a composure. I couldn’t find it in myself to reply, brain mush and hole wet and needy, so I just moaned again. It was so much easier to let myself ride the wave, to let all thoughts slip away and give myself over into their skilful hands – I felt no more need to sass back, I just wanted to cum. The two men giggled, and I heard a tearing of a foil packet, redirecting my dazed eyes towards Hoseok just to see him putting on a condom.

Anticipation ran through me, my horny mind recognising that I would be getting cock inside of me soon, needy cunt clenching and gushing desperately. Hoseok started pushing in practically immediately, impatient and wanting, and I was so wet and ready for him that he sunk in without a problem on the first stroke, pushing a helpless groan out of the man immediately.

I hadn’t even stopped moaning yet when Hoseok pulled back and thrust back in, overriding my senses with burning pleasure – it felt like my brain was buffering and short-circuiting under the never-ending overwhelming sensations. I finally felt so deliciously full, and it scratched something deep inside me, body catching up quickly and erupting into mindless ecstasy. After a few experimental strokes he set a speedy pace, desperately pumping his hips into me, jostling me on the table. If he wasn’t gripping onto my thighs so tightly, I’d probably find myself sliding up with the force of his lust, while the dark-haired man lost himself to my wet heat.

The moans spilled out of him freely, bronze sweaty body rippling with the movements and teasing some abs. When I managed to take control of myself and perceive anything through my own desperate staccato moans and gasps, I saw the man’s hazy gaze, unfocused eyes glazed over with ecstasy. It made my own lust mount immeasurably, building on my previous almost-there orgasm and throwing me headfirst into heady bliss. The scorching heat gathering deep in my core spilled over shocks of fire through my bloodstream, getting more intense with every stroke, with every time his tip bumped into the magic spot inside of me and made me shudder, so close to release I could almost taste it on my fucking tongue.

Tugging on my hands alerted me to Yoongi’s presence, the stagnant whip now moving again, teasingly making its way across my chest and tummy, here or there thumping down lightly to keep me on my toes. I heard his purred-out hums and rumbles at my eager reactions even through Hoseok’s groans and gasps, even through the wet slapping of skin on skin as he pumped into me wildly.

Just when I got used to the feeling of the leather travelling across my skin, Yoongi distributed four quick slaps, alternating between my nipples. The impact made me jerk in surprise before the delectable mix of pleasure and pain caught up to me and poured through my veins and nerves and I cried out on a moan. I felt my body spasm, cunt clenching and trapping Hoseok’s cock into the warm pulsating walls. A loud desperate moan cut through the room, the dark-haired man’s hips stuttered into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch inside of me – and it drove me fucking insane with need, my hungry wet cunt attempting to suck him deeper and deeper in mindless lust that overrode all rhyme and reason.

His face spoke of inconceivable bliss, screwed into a grimace of a man on the brink of glory, red and sweaty with mouth hanging open, and breathing hard. He stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath, his cock lodged inside of me begging for release. For few long seconds we exchanged exhausted but content smiles before Yoongi became tired of being ignored.

His whip suddenly smacked my tummy, making me clench again and in succession torturing Hoseok further as he tried to stave off his oncoming orgasm. Our breaths hitched at the same time, our gazes trained to the little black tool slowly sliding down to my cunt. It seemed that both of us had an inkling as to what Yoongi was planning – considering Hoseok’s wink and winning smirk towards his older friend while I was filled with dark anticipation, gaze glued to the sight of it rising right above my mound and coming down almost in slow-motion.

The first smack to my clit almost made me cum on the spot, all the accumulated pleasure bursting in a blinding jolt making my body contort. Hoseok’s hips jumped forward, answering the endless squeezing of my cunt with breathless moans. I thought I heard Yoongi chuckle, but I wasn’t sure through the ringing in my ears.

And then everything disappeared, melted out of my head in a barrage of moans full of honeyed lust as he started slapping my clit, swiftly, in a way that made it sting but the outpouring of achey pleasure that made everything staticky and muffled was worth it thousand times. The continuous feeling of a nearing climax mounting in me was overwhelming me, sending my thighs into fits of tremors.

Hoseok started up his pace again – unable to deny himself any longer and fucking into me hard and quick, obviously chasing his high and helplessly losing to the tidal wave about to swallow him whole. As the stimulation of his cock drilling into me and barrelling into my g-spot returned, even through the fog in my mind I knew I was a goner. The wet squelch of my pussy seemed to intensify, signalling the oncoming beast of a climax too.

Yoongi also kept up his antics, periodically bringing the whip down straight onto my clit and making me jerk and cry pathetically under them (though Hoseok seemed pretty lost too). My hands were pulled over to his lap and in my plight I grabbed onto his thigh to gain at least some stable point. I felt his hand briefly squeeze mine in support, the tender touch calming my beating heart a bit. I screwed my eyes shut, head thrown back and body thrumming, just waiting for the final push.

But then Yoongi was back to his agenda, delivering few hard quick hits down onto my clit. My body tensed up, shaking and right on the brink of a powerful orgasm and head full of cotton and buzzing. Hoseok was also losing his mind, hips accelerating and balls drawing in tight, and I knew he was about to cum as well.

All it took was the sensation of Hoseok thrusting in hard a few more times before he burst, cock throbbing uncontrollably as he came with a piercing cacophony of high-pitched moans, and Yoongi smacking down one last time before my whole body locked, then everything exploded in me and I was suddenly cumming so hard I was surprised I didn’t simply burst into pieces. Distantly I was aware that I was screaming out, but everything was muted through the humming and ringing in my ears, eyes rolled back into my skull rendering me blind. I jerked with the waves of pleasure, warmth pumping into me from all directions and pushing me deeper into a dark fog, pulling me under the endless billows of scorching honeyed nectar spreading through me.

It rocked me whole, thighs and hips shaking while Hoseok desperately grasped at me going through the shockwaves as well, still unwittingly pumping into me to ride out the wave. The added sting of overstimulation prolonged everything and made it sharper, making my toes curl with the mind-numbing pleasure.

When the high started ebbing away, I felt drugged, or on the verge of blackout drunk – eyes barely able to keep open, unseeing through the film over them, face wet with drool and tears. I didn’t feel fully in my body, like I was floating above the table and saw the whole world through cotton candy.

Hoseok was saying something, but his words were slurred as well and I could barely hear anyway. He slumped over me, hips finally calm, and by the bonelessness of his form it could be judged that he went through similarly intense experience. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of sweat that was pouring off of us, of our chests rising in tandem trying to catch our breaths and failing at it desperately.

There was some shuffling and then my arms were released, the tie binding them together gone – but they still immediately flopped down, no strength in them left. Someone pressed their face close to mine, ginger locks coming into my view but not fully connecting as I was still out of it, fighting off sleep.

But then Hoseok started moving, pulling away from me and out of my pussy, and I was jostled from the floaty space somewhere in between, slowly settling back into my bones and feeling the content ache still overriding all of my nerves.

The sound slowly came in and I realised that Yoongi was actually gently whispering praises into me, kissing softly along my neck and jawline while “such a good girl” and “took it so well” slipped out of his mouth on a murmur.

I moved my head just enough to see the dark-haired man collapse onto the carpet, half slumped into the leg of the sofa, grinning at me all doped out and still half naked with his pants undone. Yoongi quietly prowled over to the other side of the table, for the first time since we came here putting himself into my direct line of sight. And while his touch stayed respectful and soothing, his starving eyes ate up my messy wet swollen pussy like it was his last meal.

But then instead of touching me more he leaned over for some discarded clothing item, lightly dragging it down my thighs to clean up the juices that got all over me while Hoseok was fucking me. My eyes naturally slipped to the unmissable bulge tenting his black jeans (he must have taken off his hoodie somewhere during the session) and I couldn’t hold back the whine, brain still not quite capable of putting my thoughts together in a civilised manner.

In that moment it was simply unconceivable to me that he’d be left without release, and in a split moment I stubbornly made up my mind that I needed to make him cum, right there right that instant. But the man was cleaning me up, that was simply terrible!

Another whine, this time more desperate and forlorn, finally tore Yoongi from his chore and he gave me a soft smile, worriedly looking at me to ascertain what was wrong.

“What’s up, baby? What’s wrong?” he asked gently, and I whined again, frustrated with myself that it took me such an effort to put together a simple sentence, but finally I managed to sweat it out.

“Wanna make you cum,” I whimpered pathetically, and the man was split between smug smirks and kind smiles – obviously still horny out of his mind but thinking that he shouldn’t push me.

“You’re such a good girl angel, wanting to take care of me, but I can manage,” Yoongi tried to soften the rejection as much as possible, afraid I would take it badly while I was in a fragile state. But thankfully I was steadily regaining all of my abilities again, and I squirmed on the poor little table that went through all this with me.

“Green,” I stated firmly, looking him in the eye, still somewhat dazed but much more present, “Please fuck me too, Yoongi, please. Wanna feel you cum. Want you to use me as a toy.” The compassionate care-taking look immediately drained out of his eyes, and for the first time I was hit with the full force of his arousal. His dark blown-out pupils starvingly regarded me, hands now giving up on the cloth and instead slowly making their way to my stomach and waist.

“Well,” the ginger whispered sensually, “since you’re begging so nicely…” My cunt clenched at those words, slowly coming back alive and contracting almost painfully in such feral anticipation it left me breathless. The prospect of having him buried inside of me hilt-deep was enough to almost make me drool again, and I spread my legs more to him.

Yoongi’s gaze was trained on my chest though, hands reverently kneading the skin on their way up until he grasped my tits, letting out a staggered sigh. But as soon as he got there he flinched away, pulling himself away to fling his shirt off, hands excitedly tearing at his pants and getting them off as quickly as was humanly possible.

“I swear to god I normally put more care into foreplay, but I’m about to fucking explode,” Yoongi breathed out apological, snatching the condom Hoseok leaned over to give him and without wasting any time pulling it onto his throbbing red cock with a hiss of relief.

I only nodded, eyes too busy sliding over his naked torso and admiring his pretty tits and slim waist. He could probably stick it right in now and wouldn’t meet a shadow of resistance, my cunt was so nicely slicked up and fucked out, so ready and hungry for him it was basically begging to get railed.

Still the man leaned over me as he shuffled closer, putting himself firmly between my thighs and pressing his length into my slit while be busied himself licking and mouthing over my tits. His body was curled over me nicely, damp skin pressed into damp skin and driving the temperature even higher, making me feel small and safe under him, and my hands grabbed onto him, desperately whining and pulling him closer.

With a soft groan he finally folded and reached between us, grabbing himself and guiding his cock into my awaiting cunt – and I was right – I was so wet I swallowed him all up and he slid all in on the first try. He was thicker than Hoseok (even though not as long) and hit all the right spots on the way in. I released a pleased little sigh, basking in the feeling of being full again, but the man was in considerably worse shape.

Unlike Hoseok’s unabashed high moans, Yoongi was full of gruff drawn-out groans and gasps while his hips jumped on their own, starting up a slow grind to curb the edge of the surmounting pleasure.

“Fuck baby, this won’t last long at all,” the man giggled somewhat shyly, planting his face right into the crook of my neck to kiss there as he tried to prolong the experience for as long as possible. I released my own little breathless snicker, and that had Yoongi giving me a chastising look, raising an eyebrow at me in signal that he was still ready to put me in my place if I chose to brat out. I didn’t, only gave him a blissed-out smile and rolled my hips with a sigh.

Yoongi only hummed, and I almost expected him to start up some smartass monologuing, but then he was thrusting forward, hard and deep, and it knocked all thoughts out of my mind. The ginger man’s style was completely different from the fucking I received before him – he started up with a slow but rough pace, focusing on jerking into me forcefully and sliding as far as my body would allow instead on quickness.

While Hoseok’s fucking was a chaotic hot mess of quick-paced rough sex that left me breathless, Yoongi plastered himself to me and went unhurriedly but on every heavy thrust imprinted himself deeper and deeper into my core and fully overwhelmed my senses. The ringing in my ears started up again, and I was already overheating with the gooey ball of fire forming in my belly. I felt dizzy and hazy, my little moans and sighs getting cut off midway with the power behind Yoongi’s hips.

He played me masterfully, gradually speeding up, at first not fast enough to have me notice but to have my nerves overloaded with a mounting surge of pleasure. Then he ended it all. With a smirk that I would have found insufferable in any other circumstance (or if I was more present and not losing my mind on a cock) his hand lazily dragged up my tummy, up my chest, teasingly squeezing a tit on the way, before it settled on my neck. Game over town.

I froze, tensing underneath the man, and then I melted, stretching my head away and offering up my neck all he wanted with a whimper and a whine. And with a chuckle he used it all to his advantage, dear god that he did.

“Let’s go back to our roots, princess,” he whispered meanly straight into my ear, naughty lips brushing the shell of my ear while his hand tightened a touch, “isn’t this what you asked for those two weeks ago?” A barrage of moans spilled out of my slack mouth, my mind already burning with the anticipation of the tight hold of his beautiful strong hands.

Yoongi seemed to have pulled himself together a little for the purpose of teasing this out for a little longer, though both of us were already running full speed towards the finish line.

He straightened out, looming over me darkly with hungry eyes as his hand slowly tightened around my neck, lightly squeezing the sides to give me the rush of adrenaline. Any noise that would have barrelled out of my hoarse throat got cut off and I got light-headed fast, with all the sensations running through me with the flow of oxygen significantly lessened pushing me into an almost out of body experience.

The ginger man picked up his pace, delivering rough hard deep thrusts, eyes hazy and reflecting just how close he was to his own climax. I felt his dick throb and twitch as it rammed into my sweet spot, practically pushing both of us into the beginning stages of overstimulation because neither of us could hold on for much longer.

Hoseok still leisurely sat by us, leaning into the sofa and watching everything unfold half naked, underwear back on but pants still wide open and chest on full display. His eyes were darkened in interest, but he looked proper sated and only enjoying the show as a bystander. I noticed the dark-haired man’s eyes glued to the hand on my neck, eating up the desperate expression on my face and the flush spreading over me whole, like he was filing it all into his memory for a rainy day.

A quick slap to the side of my thigh brought my attention back to the man that was currently railing me into the next week, and he tsked at me with mocking mischievous eyes when he saw me flushing under him in embarrassment.

“Pay attention to me princess,” he hissed breathlessly, “you can ogle Hobi later.” That had his friend chuckling and he shuffled closer, settling in behind me. One of his hands slid softly into my hair only to grab roughly and pull my head back, adding the sting of pain to my already overloaded brain trying to keep up with the periodic tightening and loosening of Yoongi’s hand on my throat and the onslaught of pleasure from his cock. He kept my head in place as he leaned in close and started whispering sweetly into my ears.

All praises, good girl, doing so good, you’re perfect and more, all spilling from his beautiful lips like caramel candy and melting over me, sinking me deeper into staticky molases-like headspace.

“That’s right, what a good girl,” Yoongi reiterated, mumbling the praises with a heavy tongue, he himself slipping into the cosmic pull of the promised high, “take what you need, pretty girl, let go.”

And I did.

The build up of the orgasm creeped up on me – there was no monumental wave, no big crash, only slowly rising tide pulling me deeper and deeper without me realising how close I was to getting pulled under.

The constant stimuli of the Yoongi’s hips barrelling into mine, slapping into my clit and filling me so deliciously I wanted to scream and growl, my body wanted to twist under the pleasure but he kept me in place, not giving me any other choice but to lie still and take the endless cycle of lust and ecstasy, his hand squeezing my neck whenever he pleased, letting his presence known and pushing me into the table, forcing me back into the cotton candy hum as my oxygen deprived brain desperately fought to keep up.

I let it all wash over me, fully trying to feel all the sensations at once and getting hit with the flood of good good good oh god yes god yes please until I was screaming under them, body convulsing and cunt clenching on him one last time before I released all. The relief of the orgasm was immense and I went slack almost immediately while my thighs shook around Yoongi, the slick squelch of my pussy intensifying with every helpless pump.

Distantly I realised my own screams and moans while my body shook with the waves and aftershocks, until I went ragdoll on them and nothing but pure satisfaction and contentment flowed through me, mind completely scrambled.

Yoongi released his hold on me, instead hauling my legs over his shoulders and pressing my thighs to his abdomen, hips kicking up in pace. I twitched under him, pussy sore and sensitive but still willing to receive him in all his glory.

I heard the hitches in Yoongi’s breathing, both me and Hoseok watching him from below as he blindly chased after his climax knowing he’s so close it was palpable in the air.

Then a few rough pumps later the man suddenly pulled out, hand tearing the condom away and hurriedly jerking his red angry cock until he was twitching and spilling all over the back of my thighs. I felt his hot cum hit my heated skin and my cunt clenched so hard it was almost painful; at that moment I thanked god it wasn’t enough to get me going again, because I didn’t think I could handle another round.

Yoongi was still grunting and groaning breathlessly, one hand supporting him on the table while he attempted to catch his breath while Hoseok gently caressed my arms and hair to help me come down from everything.

I was too tired to think about anything, I just wanted to sink into their warmth and let them lull me to comfortable sleep. I let them manhandle me into a better position to be cleaned up, but I grumbled the whole time, already halfway unconscious and annoyed at being jostled from the soft floaty space somewhere above this plane of existence.

To their credit, they both tried their best to move me as slowly as possible, both softly cooing at me and giving out praises easily, but I ended up blinking the tiredness out of my eyes anyway and my brain cleared up. I still ate it all up and played up my grumbling to their great amusement.

Moments later I found myself wrapped in Yoongi’s black oversized hoodie, lying down on a comfortable soft blanket on the carpet with a pillow stuffed between my head and arm, while the men cuddled up to me from both sides. Something thin and cool was thrown over all of us, not exactly a blanket, but enough to give me the feel of not being completely exposed.

“You should let your friends know you’re okay,” Yoongi whispered, Hoseok sleepily humming from my other side, and before I could complain whinily about not knowing where my phone is, he was pressing it into my clumsy uncoordinated hands. I mumbled my thanks and blinked through the sudden ray of light cutting straight into my eyes. Blindly I clicked on the chat and wrote something half passing as a reassurement.

Petty bitch: mission accomplished sleeping over

With that I was completely dead to the world – all snuggled up into a lightly snoring Hoseok while Yoongi’s hand tenderly caressed up and down my side, not even realising an immediate answer came through.

Pink nightmare: atta girl :*

“Jesus fucking christ, I might have as well gotten run over by a truck,” were the first words tumbling out of my lips that morning when Hoseok shook me awake mumbling something about putting my clothes on.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, but at least the dark-haired man seemed to be similarly ruffled as he tried to stretch out groaning, face puffy and tired. He still giggled at my words though, and helped me stand up.

I did try to put my clothes on, but none of my limbs were cooperating and I ended up fumbling around like a newborn giraffe until Hoseok took pity on me and pulled my clothes on for me as I steadied myself on his shoulder. He was laughing at me the whole time, to which I replied by smacking him repeatedly while whining that this was all their fault.

As we stumbled back into the club area hand in hand, I finally got a glimpse of the ginger man, who was standing by the bar laughing around with a tired but still happy looking Tae. They seemed to be counting last night’s profit and the ginger bastard looked completely fine, a total one eighty from the two of us making our way over in snail’s pace.

Tae saw us first and the smirk he gave us was so shit-eating even I was considering slapping it off his face (a sentiment which seemed to be returned by Hoseok whole-heartedly). Yoongi’s laugh joined into the fray, and we just stood there and listened to them be greatly amused by the state of us.

“Holy shit hyung! What the fuck did you do to them?” exclaimed the other barkeep, a small thin guy with a pretty face and cutesy vibe, who was cackling like the devil himself when Hoseok glared at him, one arm still pulled around me like we were leaning on each other to stand (we might have been, honestly I was still pretty much asleep).

“Shut it Jimin-ah, I might still decide to keep the bonus to myself,” the man by my side threatened with no real heat behind it, and thus was promptly ignored by all three other occupants of the club while they entertained themselves by snickering at us.

Yoongi slowly walked over, face melting into something a little softer as he took us in, the slightest bit of worry worming onto his face. “You both okay, right?” he whispered to us, one hand squeezing my arm and other squeezing Hoseok’s. I snickered right back at him, amused by how he was trying to not show his tender side.

“Yeah, don’t worry, just half asleep on my feet,” I replied loudly, earning some chuckles from the two young guys at the bar, but they did seem quite used to their hyung’s shenanigans.

He lightly squeezed my shoulder before letting go, more serious gaze sent towards his business partner and friend, which had Hoseok sobering up pretty quickly.

“I’m sorry princess, we’d love to have a breakfast, but unfortunately we have a meeting with a potential partner,” Yoongi explained apologetically, and Hoseok groaned next to me, crumbling into my shoulder and loudly fake crying.

“I completely forgot about that,” he whinily complained, arms snaking around my waist like I was his personal emotional support stuffed animal (well, I was stuffed just a few hours prior, soo…), “I’ll have to go shower and change home and it’s across the whole city.” Yoongi looked unimpressed and pulled him from my side, the man pouting and blinking at him in an attempt to garner sympathy.

“Come on Seok-ah, Kookie’s here to drive us and my place is closer,” the ginger man murmured, trying to placate him – and it worked. Whoever this Kookie was, Hoseok brightened right up at the mention of him and started happily skipping towards the exit.

There was some booing and disgruntled “you’re never this happy about seeing me hyung!” screaming from behind the bar, but all fell on deaf ears as Yoongi started pulling me after the man and I barely even managed to shout my goodbyes.

“Kookie’ll get you home, pretty girl,” he promised with a tender smile, looking so kind and gentle it was almost a whiplash from the predatory smirk and sharp eyes from yesterday. Hoseok was already on the street hanging off of a laughing tattooed man.

His name was Jungkook I learnt, and he was pretty cool and obviously loved both men as his brothers, as the teasing and jokes flew between them the whole ride. Yoongi and Hoseok requested to be dropped off first, so I sat squeezed between them in the backseat while I bickered with Jungkook about the best drama currently running on TV.

Once out of car at the given address, both the men suddenly did seem quite in a hurry, but neither of them left without a hug, a kiss and some naughty words exchanged sneakily while their hands possessively grabbed at me unwilling to part.

“Keep the hoodie, princess,” Yoongi said finally, pulling Seok away and pointing at the clothing I forgot I was still wearing, “You can return it to me next time.” They both winked at me and with that, they were gone – disappearing into a very nice high-rise building in a posh neighbourhood.

With a bit of shame and still blushing from their displays of affection I told Jungkook my own address and he took me there gladly, even though he was teasing me about his hyungs the whole time.

It was all over too soon – before I knew I was standing in front of my quite average building, waving off Jungkook as he drove off god knows where, feeling quite happy even if a little lonely after spending the night with the two men.

His promise of seeing me again kept me warm though, and I reached in my handbag to pull out my keys – only for a little piece of paper to fall out. I bent over and took a look at it before bursting out laughing.

Min Yoongi +82 145-5286-036, Jung Hoseok +82 634-1654-220

Those sly bastards.

divider from @saradika-graphics <3

#kpop fic #kpop smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts sope #bts poly au

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stellewriites · 3 months ago

Text

PART ONE

summary: by chance you and your emotionally unavailable husband meet a friendly couple that invite you stay at their farmhouse in scotland. however the time spent there with johnny & kyle has you questioning if there's a dark side to them you didn't see before.

a speak no evil au - masterlist

notes: manipulative johnny & kyle, piv, noncon, somno, never explicitly acknowledged abusive relationship between reader and her husband (financial, physical, emotional, coercive control), drinking, murder, it's dead dove horror people!! heed the warnings

you picked at the buttery croissant on the plate in front of you, trying your best to block out the sound of your husband’s voice as it grew more frustrated by the minute. you pitied the poor soul he was berating on the other end of the line, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad enough to try and stop him, to turn his ire against you instead.

he wouldn’t listen to you anyway, hadn’t the first few times you’d asked when you’d first arrived on your honeymoon.

you scoffed quietly and shoved a bite into your mouth, chewing obstinately. two years late, but sure. your honeymoon.

elliot sighed heavily, and threw his phone down onto the table, rattling your coffee and gaining the attention of nearby hotel staff. “i work with fucking idiots, christ. how hard is it to follow instructions?”

“it’s why they keep you around, smartest one on your team,” you said appeasingly, the same rote answer you always gave him when he got in his moods.

“smartest one at the whole fucking firm more like,” he scoffed. you cringed at the scornful looks sent your way from the other couples on the retreat. “useless. the lot of them.”

the french riviera had been a dream destination for you for years, one elliot had known about from early in your dating days. the holiday he’d booked was all inclusive; tailored to honeymooners specifically with romantic activities on and off site and transport easily accessible in order to explore the area.

you felt as though you should’ve been having the time of your life as you sat eating breakfast looking over the beautiful beach view, but you’d never felt emptier. the sight of happy couples around you day after day had only highlighted your husband’s distance.

elliot had promised this trip would change things for you both, for your relationship, but the last six days had proven the opposite. if he wasn’t busy and distracted on his phone, elliot was complaining about the quality of the food, the amenities, even the bloody people.

it was too much and just the morning before you’d been tempted to ask him to cut the fortnight away short when he’d gotten an urgent email and then a frantic call from his boss.

you’d sighed in relief when he’d left you to wander the local area by yourself for the day; happy to escape his negativity for an hour even as you felt guilty for thinking so. you knew he worked hard, you knew his job was important, and his work meant you could afford your luxury apartment in London and be able to take trips like this one without stressing over the cost.

you’d taken the time to go to the market you’d read about on the plane, the place des lices, and tried every free sample of cheese that had been waved your way once you’d gotten there. but you hadn’t been the only one from your hotel to take advantage of the famous food stalls as you recognised the deep scottish brogue of one half of the couple that were staying in the room next to yours; it rose even above the busy hum of french chatter easily.

you’d turned your head and smiled when you caught his pretty husband’s eyes before turning back to the stall merchant and buying a chunk of fresh camembert for elliot to try. you’d been eyeing up the fruit stall further down and were debating the brie too if you spotted some good cranberry jam.

“you’re from the hotel, right?” you suddenly heard from your left. you turned to find the couple a lot closer than before, apparently taking your polite smile as invitation to join you. “i’ve seen you at the pool before. I’m kyle, this is my husband, johnny.”

“nice t’meet ye.”

you’d introduced yourself and shook their hands once your cheese was carefully packed into your tote bag.

“where’s yer chatty husband?” johnny asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

you flushed, a creeping sense of embarrassment rising as you thought of elliot back at the hotel shooing you off before you’d even sat for breakfast.

“oh he had some emergency at work he had to deal with,” you excused. “didn’t need me hanging around distracting him, so i went for a walk.”

“you’re on your own?” kyle asked with a concerned frown.

“yeah, but i don’t mind. i travelled alone a lot before we were together. i’m used to my own company,” you said with a soft laugh.

the pair swapped a silent look before focusing back on you. “well, we’d be happy to have ye if you’re feeling lonely, bonnie,” johnny offered. “we were thinkin’ of goin’ wine tasting after this now that we’ve got our snacks, if you’d like to join.”

you chuckled as johnny raised their bag and wiggled his eyebrows.

“i wouldn’t want to intrude.” you shook your head.

“it beats heading back to the hotel,” kyle cajoled. “unless you had other plans?”

you pursed your lips before letting a small, shy smile grow. “ok. wine tasting sounds fun.”

you had spent the afternoon laughing and eating the cheese, bread and fruits you’d bought at the market over glasses of wine with johnny and kyle, a wide smile never leaving your lips even as the three of you stumbled back up the steps to the hotel.

your phone had stayed silent the entire day and it wasn’t until you were waving goodbye to your new friends and opening the door to your hotel room that you wondered if elliot would be annoyed at you for staying out so long without contacting him.

you smiled a little shakily as you caught him leaving the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. “good day?”

“fixed their mess if that’s what you mean,” elliot huffed, but he turned to you with a satisfied smile and nodded. he dipped his head down and kissed you sweetly. “what about you? good day?”

“mhm,” you hummed, your smile settling more firmly on your face at his easy mood. “i went wine tasting.”

“oh?” elliot grinned, looking at you a little closer and taking in the signs of your slight inebriation, the way you swayed slightly on your feet and the almost sleepy glaze over your eyes.

“met a few new friends,” you said. “johnny and kyle.”

elliot stiffened for a moment before smiling again, less genuine and with a sharper edge this time. “oh? that’s nice. i’ll be free to spend the day doing whatever you’d like tomorrow, darling. no need for friends on our honeymoon.”

“you will?” you asked as you started to undress, surprised he wasn’t asking for an extra day to check everything with work had settled. you didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth however. “there’s a great market i saw today we could go to. i wouldn’t mind going twice, the cheese is amazing—“

“sure, sure. fine. let’s just sleep now, yeah? i’m exhausted after today,” elliot interrupted as he dried himself off before climbing into bed.

“of course, yeah. we can figure it out over breakfast.”

which brought you back to now, with your croissant and your husband and your beach view and the ever growing pit of disappointment.

you skimmed your eyes over the other couples sat on the veranda with you and felt jealousy bubble and spit in your stomach. it was the small things you longed for, the easy affection you craved; legs hooked together under the table, feeding each other, shy smiles shared behind mugs, little jokes whispered on the breeze.

you felt tears prickle at your eyes unexpectedly and wiped at them hastily before elliot could notice.

“bonnie?” your head whipped up at the familiar voice and you smiled automatically at johnny and kyle as they made their way over. johnny was in a pair of shorts, and you saw a knee brace peek out from the hem.

“mind if we join you?” kyle asked, already pulling out a chair at your eager nod, ignoring the deep frown on elliot’s face.

“and you are?” elliot asked rudely, looking between the two men.

“this is johnny and kyle, the couple i told you about last night.” you laid a gentle hand on elliot’s forearm.

“oh, the wine tasters. right.”

“heard you were busy saving yer boss’ arse yesterday,” johnny said with a pinched smile. “yer bonnie wife didnae mention what ye did though?”

“i work for a powerful man looking after his money,” elliot explained vaguely, with an air of condescension.

you noticed kyle wave over a waitress and quietly order for both him and johnny, his palm settled firmly on johnny’s thigh beneath the table.

“oh aye? tha’s a lotta responsibility then. no wonder yer always looking so stressed on yer phone,” johnny laughed.

“oi, be nice, john,” kyle scolded, but the smile teasing the corner of his lips took away any bite the reprimand held.

“sorry, uh, emmet, was it?”

“elliot,” you corrected quickly.

johnny snapped his fingers and nodded. “right, right. sorry, my memory’s not what it used to be.” he waved at a rough scar at the side of his head.

“so how long have you two been together?” kyle asked as their drinks arrived. you saw elliot sniff at the vast amount of sugar kyle poured into his tea.

“five years,” you answered at the same time elliot answered, four years. you turned to him with a frown. “we’ve been married for two. we met before your promotion, remember?”

“are you sure, darling?” elliot asked.

“yes, elliot. i’m sure.”

kyle and johnny watched silently, eyebrows raised until you turned back to your croissant with a tense jaw.

“time flies ‘n all that,” johnny said, hoping to ease your tension.

“right.” you nodded. “what about you guys? been together long?”

“been stuck with him for a decade now,” kyle huffed, patting his hand on johnny’s leg.

“been blessed by me, more like, cheeky sod,” johnny muttered.

you laughed as kyle leant in to kiss his cheek obnoxiously. “met in the forces, just clicked.”

“been together ever since i caught him starin’ in the showers,” johnny boasted with a grin.

elliot shifted uncomfortably in his chair and johnny’s grin dropped minisculely and his eyes hardened.

“what’re yer plans today then, bonnie?”

“oh, uhm, we’re not quite sure yet,” you said looking to elliot. “maybe the market since elliot missed it yesterday?”

“you should join us on our cruise along the coast,” kyle said. “just us and the captain, and a fair bit of booze; views are meant to be unmissable.”

“sounds better than a market,” elliot chuffed before shrugging. “sure, why not?”

“really?” you were more than surprised elliot was willingly agreeing to spend more time with kyle and johnny given how on edge he’d been just sat with them the last ten minutes.

“what d’ye say, bon?” johnny leant over the small table with a smile, taking up enough space for you to feel surprisingly cornered.

“pretty hard to say no to ‘unmissable’,” you said and forced a laugh.

“great,” kyle said and johnny slumped back into his seat, throwing an arm around the back of kyle chair. “we’ve got an hour before we’re meant to be there so eat up, love.”

elliot bristled at their familiarity with you and wrapped his own arm around the back of your chair, his hand curling around your shoulder and squeezing just a tad too tight. “she’s already eaten.”

“what, that little pastry?” johnny laughed. “you’ll need yer energy for what we’ve got planned, hen.” johnny winked.

you felt yourself flush involuntarily, your heart thumped and your eyes widened at the accidental insinuation and you knew elliot had heard it the same way going by the agitated tap of his leg beneath the table.

“i’ll probably just have another coffee,” you said placating, and smiled thinly when elliot kissed your temple. “i can grab something for on the boat or afterwards maybe.”

“that’s my girl,” elliot spoke into your hair.

---

while kyle and johnny finished up their breakfast, you nipped back into your room to change into your swimwear underneath your dress and met them along with elliot at the steps leading down to the beach.

once you’d left the dock and were deep enough in the water that it became a mesmerising dark blue, it didn’t take much convincing to have you jump in the water with johnny as the boat idled in place. elliot had waved you off with a dismissive glance at his phone when you asked if he’d join and kyle had promised to have the towels ready when you’d both ran out of energy.

“not joining them?” elliot asked, sparing a quick glance at kyle as he sat down next to your husband.

“figured i’d keep you company ‘til johnny climbs back on board. we’re temporary neighbours after all, yeah?” kyle said. he looked over the side of the boat and shook his head at his husband splashing you despite your giggly squeals of outrage. “married for two years?” he asked out of the blue and waited for elliot to hum his agreement. “what you doing on a honeymoon trip then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

elliot sighed frustratedly as he locked his phone and put it down beside him, knowing he was going to get nothing done with kyle yammering by his side. “we’re busy people, only just found the time together to go.”

kyle raised his eyebrows in shock. “busy indeed.” he looked to elliot’s phone. “got any photos of the wedding?”

elliot nodded once, and not enthusiastically enough for kyle’s liking, as he pulled up the photo folder you’d made on his phone titled ‘happily ever after 🩷’ before handing it to kyle to flip through.

the younger man whistled lowly, eyes glued to the screen as he pinched and moved the photos to zoom in. elliot noticed how he paused on the photos of you, but flicked through the others quickly, not bothering to stop quick enough to take in your bridesmaids’ dresses or the expensive tiered cake or elliot’s flash suit.

he snatched his phone back when kyle licked his lips at a photo of you dancing with your friends.

“lovely gown,” kyle said with a smirk as he watched elliot seethe. “you really got lucky, eh? punching up like that.”

elliot’s eyes squinted in a glare. “excuse me?”

“come on, mate. you can be honest, it’s why you worry about the job, right? you want to keep that going for you so she doesn’t leave you in the dust,” kyle continued to goad him.

“it’s not me that needs to worry about being left behind,” elliot spat. he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw to hide his burgeoning smug look, but kyle saw it in his eyes, the self-satisfaction. “i’ve got options. plenty at that.”

kyle stared at him with a blank face. “oh yeah?”

elliot laughed meanly and dropped his hand. “oh yeah.” he tapped his phone against his palm for a moment, seemingly debating something before freezing as he heard you and johnny climb the short ladder back up to the deck, laughing all the while.

“done in already?” kyle asked, his mood already lighter.

“johnny’s knee is aching, thought he could rest it and we’d get a quick drink,” you answered with a wide smile, reaching for one of the beers stored in the boats built-in cooler and handing one to johnny.

“bonnie was jus’ telling me how she used to live in a much smaller area when she was younger,” johnny said as you both sat down opposite to your partners. “but you live in london now?”

“what is it with you two? always asking bloody questions,” elliot complained, hiding his unease behind a laugh.

“just making conversation, mate,” kyle said tersely.

you felt the air grow awkward and jumped in before your husband could make it worse.

“we moved to london for elliot’s work,” you said.

“and you like it?” kyle’s inquisitive, dark eyes had you willing to be more truthful than you would usually be, especially with near strangers.

“i have to admit… i’d always thought we’d be somewhere further from the city; its what i’d always wanted and elliot said he’d liked the idea of somewhere quieter. we met in my home town after all.” you caught elliot’s scornful eye and ducked your head. “but it just didn’t go that way in the end. and london is lovely, the apartment is— lovely.”

“you ever been to scotland?” johnny asked. “the countryside is like nothin’ you’ve ever seen up there.”

kyle nodded. “we’ve lived on the edge of falkland for a few years now; feels like the middle of nowhere sometimes. doesn’t get much better, i haven’t missed the city for years.”

“one of the best decisions we ever made,” johnny agreed, leaning over to kiss gaz softly.

you sighed wistfully.

“don’t think the hills would agree with my dear wife, but maybe we’ll take a trip up there some time,” elliot said unconvincingly. you swallowed thickly at his thinly veiled dig.

“when you’re not so busy, yeah?” kyle said staring your husband down.

elliot’s lips thinned. “yeah.”

“so how’re you finding france so far?” johnny asked. “enjoying yer stay?”

elliot sniffed. “could be better. from how this one went on about the place i was expecting a hell of a lot more,” he said snidely, gesturing to you flippantly. “i’d have picked bali personally.”

your shoulders hunched even as you felt indignation and anger burn the back of your throat. it wasn’t your fault elliot wasn’t taking advantage of the holiday, the lush area and the activities that promised to be unforgettable if given the chance. you knew you’d remember going in the sea with johnny for years to come, but you doubted you’d remember the boring dinners you’d been having with elliot in a month’s time, or at least not so fondly.

“think i’d have put the trip off for longer if i knew what this place was going to be like,” elliot laughed. “in fact—“

“why don’t you shut the fuck up fer once and let yer pretty wife speak, eh?” johnny cut him off with a sarcastic smile.

elliot was shocked into silence and you found yourself stuttering as kyle and johnny focused on you.

“what do you do when you’re not on a late honeymoon, love?” kyle asked.

“uhm, i don’t actually work currently,” you admitted sheepishly, your eyes darted to your husband as he grew redder in the face. “elliot makes enough to cover us financially and finding something in london was harder than expected after i had to suddenly quit my previous job when we moved.”

kyle and johnny cooed sympathetically.

“i’ve picked up painting recently though, which has been different. not necessarily any good at it, but i like it,” you said.

“an artist? yer after my heart, hen. i sketch a little myself,” johnny said. “now ye’ll have to come visit us just so you can paint the views.”

kyle was quick to pull out his phone to share some photos. he stopped on one of johnny on the top of a steep, grassy hill; his arms thrown up the air, backpack on the ground next to him and a wide grin stretched across his face, his mohawk a little longer than it was now and a mess in the wind.

“wow, it’s gorgeous there,” you gushed, trying not to focus on johnny’s strong stance highlighted by the rising sun behind him.

“that’s the view just behind our house,” kyle grinned. “forty minute hike to get there, at most.”

you gawped. “no way.”

johnny nodded.

“think you’re maybe overestimating her painting skills there, boys,” elliot snickered as he looked at the photo. “if you saw what she’s done so far you’d realise it’s definitely just a new hobby.”

“show us,” kyle suggested kindly, not bothering to look at elliot.

you hesitated before reaching for your bag and pulling out your phone. you handed it over with a shy smile.

“oi, these are good, bonnie,” johnny said immediately, stood looking over kyle’s shoulder. his brow was pulled into a frown as he concentrated.

“i’d buy ‘em,” kyle added, looking up at you to smile.

“ha! right, yeah,” you laughed, thinking he was teasing. you put down your beer and took your phone back, dropping it into your bag. you leant in to kiss elliot’s cheek and stood. “who’s going to join me in the water? elliot?”

“i don’t think so, darling. maybe another time,” he said.

“i will.” kyle stood. “did johnny show you how to dive off the front?”

your eyes widened in excitement as you shook your head and followed him, waving at the captain sat at the helm of the small boat as you passed.

johnny watched the pair of you go before turning to glare at elliot silently, not breaking eye contact even as your husband frowned and shifted uneasily, eventually looking down at his phone to avoid johnny’s unwavering, cold gaze.

---

“i don’t like them,” elliot said once you were back in your hotel that evening.

“who? johnny and kyle?”

“who else?” elliot scoffed. “they’re too familiar with you, they— they fawn over you. flirt relentlessly, in front of me—“

“oh come on,” you laughed, unable to stop yourself even as elliot grew angrier at your casual dismissal. “they’re married, don’t be bloody daft.”

“don’t call me stupid.” elliot warned.

“i’m not, i just—“

“whether they’re actually interested in you or not isn’t the point,” elliot seethed. “they’re doing it to wind me up. to get away with humiliating me and you encourage them.”

“i— what? we were just having fun,” you said.

“oh i know, i saw how you clung to them in the water when you thought i wasn’t looking. fucking slut.”

you gaped at elliot, taken aback by his harsh words and sharp tone. you took in a deep breath and tried to level your own voice.

“they’re just friendly.” you bit your cheek. “if anything, you’re just jealous i’m getting more attention than you for once.”

“what was that?” elliot whipped around to face you and you felt your blood run cold even before he took a step towards you. he gripped you roughly by the back of your neck and tugged you forward so his lips rested at your temple and you followed limply, keeping your hands by your sides. “you better not play up tomorrow, darling. whatever they offer, we’re busy. this our honeymoon, not a fucking jolly for you to try and meet other men.”

you seethed in his hold, furious at his accusations and the irony of his ill-placed jealousy. but all the same you nodded gently. “ok, elliot.”

“good.” he kissed your round cheek with a loud, sarcastic smack before turning towards the bathroom. he shed his clothes as he walked, leaving them in a trail you knew he expected you to pick up and closed the door behind him, leaving you stood motionless in the centre of the hotel room.

---

you dodged johnny’s bright grin and kyle’s sweet invites to hang out over the last week of your holiday with a pained grimace.

after the first few mornings of suddenly stilted conversation over breakfast, they stopped joining you and elliot and you were happy they were able to continue enjoying their honeymoon even if you weren’t.

elliot didn’t say in so many words, but he didn’t trust you not to gallivant off if left alone like before, so you were stuck waiting in the admittedly lavish hotel room on the days elliot got pulled back into work over the phone and on his laptop. too important to leave until later, he’d said. but he’d promised each time to take you out for a dinner that had continued to be forgotten about.

with only a few days left you were stuck waiting by the road, the little moped you’d rented for the day parked and so far unused while elliot nipped back up to the hotel to grab his sunglasses. it’d been twenty minutes already and part of you wondered if he’d gotten lost. you wished he’d left the keys with you instead of pocketing them so you could keep yourself entertained with a quick ride around the block, get used to the feel of the bike before joining onto the main road.

a squeaky horn, two beeps in quick succession, had you flinching from your moody thoughts and looking up as kyle and johnny pulled to a stop in front of you.

“long time no see, love,” kyle said. he nodded down at the bike with a grin. “where you off to?”

“and can we join?” johnny asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

you snorted. “nowhere. not until elliot comes back at least.” you shrugged. “he’s got the keys,” you explained.

“how about we take you for a quick ride then,” johnny offered and kyle immediately started getting off from behind him.

“no, no i couldn’t. thank you. elliot will be back any second, im sure,” you said quickly, worried elliot would grow mad if he saw you sat behind johnny on the bike.

“ok, love,” kyle placated. “how about we swap numbers then, in case we don’t get to see you before your trip is up? i want to see more of your paintings.”

“we’re off home in about two days or so, figured yours would be about the same,” johnny said.

“what about email?” you suggested instead. your couples therapist had suggested regularly reading each others texts to try and gain back trust between the pair of you. the irony that it was now you trying to hide a conversation in your phone wasn’t lost on you, but you knew elliot wouldn’t want you talking to them after this trip. “i can get pretty chatty in a text, so email might be better,” you lied flimsily.

“sure,” johnny nodded along, clearly not believing you. “whatever you’d like.”

“you can have john’s email,” kyle said with a smirk, the expression growing when the scot sighed and swatted at kyle’s thigh behind him.

you watched them with confused amusement until johnny read out his email.

[email protected]

“wow. that’s very myspace of you,” you laughed even as johnny rolled his eyes.

“soap’s an old nickname, you’ll probably hear me call him gaz sometimes too. old habits,” johnny explained.

“from the military?” you confirmed and they nodded.

“i say it when i want him to listen. gets him standing to attention when i call him soap,” kyle said teased.

“anything you do gets me standing to attention, handsome,” johnny said, sultry and playful.

“oh piss off,” kyle laughed as he pushed johnny’s face away, pretending to groan in disgust when johnny caught his wrist and messily kissed his palm. you felt your stomach clench at the brief sight of his tongue poking between kyle’s fingers, lapping at the webbing before he let him go.

his tongue there and gone again in a second. you’d almost think you’d imagined it if you didn’t see the spit glisten in the sun before kyle wiped it on his shorts.

you blinked to clear your head and turned away even as the thought of johnny’s mouth around kyle’s fingers replayed over and over in your head.

turning away meant you caught sight of elliot making his way back. it had your thoughts sobering and you looked back to the couple with an apologetic smile. “i’ll see you guys later hopefully, but if not i hope you enjoy the rest of your honeymoon guys.”

“ye trying to get rid o’ us?” johnny pouted, mischief clear in his eyes.

“no, but I know elliot will want to set off straight away so—“

“we know when we’re not wanted, love,” kyle sighed, winking at you to soften the words and let you know they weren’t offended, just pulling your pigtails. “take a hint, johnny, let’s go check out the beach.”

“aye aye, sir,” johnny saluted lazily before revving the moped back to life and waving at you over his shoulder.

“ready to go?” you jumped slightly at elliot’s voice behind you, you hadn’t realised he was so close already and when you turned around you could see he was tense.

“ready when you are,” you said and moved out of the way of the bike.

elliot didn’t mention johnny or kyle and you were thankful; the day had barely begun, you didn’t need an argument to ruin it already.

you swung your leg over the bike behind him and cuddled close, smiling when elliot rubbed a warm palm over your bare knee next to his thigh. today could be good if you just let it, you reminded yourself as elliot set off clumsily.

you lifted your head from his back once he’d managed to get the hang of controlling the moped a little better, becoming confident on the roads after a few minutes, but you wished you hadn’t.

his collar was rustling in the wind and had slipped loose around his shoulder, revealing a smudged lipstick mark previously hidden by his button up overshirt. you felt your breath hitch, unable to look away even as your eyes started to burn.

your gut clenched and rolled unpleasantly, like you could throw up any moment but your jaw was firmly clenched closed. your hands shook where they were holding elliot at the waist and you finally clenched your eyes closed.

with trembling lips, you held back a sob.

today could be good if you let it, you repeated. so let it.

---

you didn’t see kyle or johnny before you left and you didn’t mention what you saw to elliot either.

instead you went back to london, to the dreary rain and the empty flat and the weekly couples’ appointments.

you lied when your therapist asked how your honeymoon went. you grinned and turned to elliot with wide sparkling eyes and reach for his hand to hold between yours as you simpered, “simply perfect.”

but it wasn’t and elliot new it.

the breaking point was when johnny sent your throw-away email account a message one afternoon with a photo attached at the bottom. you grinned when it loaded on your laptop and you zoomed in to see your smiling face, then kyle’s, then johnnys.

it had been taken on the boat on your way back to the dock after a long day swimming and drinking and laughing. elliot had kept to himself for most of the trip unless spoken to, but after an hour you’d managed to ignore him well enough. it wasn’t until kyle pulled him up on your way back, slapped his phone into elliot’s hand and asked him to take a photo of the three of you with the water and island in the background that you remembered he was there.

“elliot, be a good lad and take the photo for us won’t ya?”

“why not ask the captain—“

“he’s done enough dealing with us fer the day, aye? oh— wait, did ye want tae be in it with us?”

“no. thank you.”

they’d thrown their arms around you, pushing and pulling you to their liking until you were stood by the edge of the boat, and smiled. your shoulders were sensitive where johnny’s arm laid over the top - sunburnt you thought at the time - and your hair was still wet from your last dip, but your smile was wide and glowing even as elliot had gritted his teeth.

despite his grumbles he’d done as asked and you’d been dying to see the photo ever since when johnny cooed, “aw, lovely photo to remember ya by.”

now you felt your cheeks heat as you saw how your swim shorts had rucked up high on your thighs, damp and clinging, showing off more skin than you’d realised. your swimsuit at least covered your stomach and cleavage well enough, though johnny’s hand on your shoulder held one of the thick strings of your suit where it had tied at the back of your neck. he was in the middle of playing with it, tugging it so it was taut but not enough to loosen the bow. you don’t remember feeling him pull at the string holding your suit up over your breasts, though you were distracted by the tight hold gaz had on your waist, the handful he’d grabbed as he knocked your hips together.

god no wonder elliot had gotten mad that evening. if you hadn’t known the two were married, you’d have assumed they were trying to get between your legs by this photo alone.

you read the message johnny had sent along with it.

missin you and yer sweet laugh, bonnie!

forgot to send the photo earlier, i think the three of us look well fit, we’ll have to go swimming gain sometime. gaz suggested leucate plage if yer still in love wih france, but im sure there’s a few different au naturel beaches we could try ;)

you sputtered a laugh at that, scoffing at the idea of going to a nude beach especially with those two. bloody hell, elliot would have a fit, you thought gleefully.

but for now we thought you could come visit us like we’d said before? the countryside could be good for you and the ol’ ball n chain. we’d be happy t have ye both for the week, we’ve got the room. just let us know, yeah?

yer handsome pal,

johnny

you shook your head at his theatrics. emailing johnny felt like having a slightly unhinged penpal and reading his emails never failed to brighten up your day, you could hear him in the way he typed. you also loved when you assumed gaz would steal the phone to use his account to talk to you, the lack of scots and shorthand was always a dead giveaway between the two.

you bit your lip and found some of the photos he’d sent previously of their home and garden. it was gorgeous simply put and although the anxiety of admitting to elliot that you’d kept in contact with them had your palms sweating, the deep urge to go visit them ultimately won out.

you bit the bullet over dinner that same night. steak, specially made to soften elliot’s mood.

not that it helped much.

“what?” he dropped his cutlery and pushed back from his seat, needing distance from you as he processed you’d been lying to him. “why would you do that?”

you didn’t have an answer. or not one that elliot would like, so you felt yourself begin to shrug before you thought back to your last session.

“our therapist said it could be good for the relationship if i made some friends separate to yours,” you said.

“she also said you needed to focus trying more with my friends,” elliot reminded.

“but your friends aren’t offering to stay with us for a week in the highlands, elliot. if they were then i’d be all for it!”

“so if i tell my friends that we’ll spend christmas at the ski lodge with them this year, you won’t whine about wanting to be at home together, this time,” he challenged.

you swallowed. he knew you hated skiing and his bitchy judgmental rich friends. it wasn’t even as though it was his easy going friends that liked to go, it was the worst of the bunch that purposely left you out or talked down to you, made it impossible to try without embarrassing yourself.

but fine. you could deal with that this year if it meant your friendship with kyle and johnny was allowed to grow.

“sure,” you said with an obviously fake casual shrug. “so we can go?”

elliot huffed. you sprung out your next argument.

“our therapist also said it was important to let me take the lead a few times. in order to let me regai—“

“regain some power in the relationship, yeah, i know. i was there.” elliot nodded. he seemed to think it over. “this will help you trust me again?”

you reached across the table and held his hand, smiling at him hopefully when he looked back at you. you tried not to think of the lipstick stain in france, tried not to let the hurt cloud you eyes. “yes.” you stood and walked to stand by his chair, chest warming when he wrapped an arm around your waist. “the honeymoon felt forced,” you admitted, making sure to keep eye contact even as he stiffened. “we both felt it, you can admit it, i’m not mad. but this would be new and an adventure. like old times, elliot.”

he nodded a little less resignedly. “sure, old times. ok.”

you smiled, dipped down to kiss him deeply, rubbing his clean shaven cheek with your thumb.

“thank you. this will be fun, i promise. we’ll get to relax and just spend some time together, yeah? no pressure of what we should be doing as a couple or at work or— or—“

elliot softened as he looked at you stutter to find another reason. “yes, darling. it’ll be good.”

you stepped out of his grasp.

“i’ll let them know we can go, what date do you think would be best?”

---

“fucking hell, you had one job. look out for the stupid carved owl in the tree and that’s when we know to turn left,” elliot seethed as he drove, the sun growing dimmer by the minute. you’d spent the entire day driving up north using the directions, had set off that saturday morning in hopes that the traffic wouldn’t be as busy as midweek. “so where are we now? you insisted on following their directions instead of using the satnav, so where the hell does it mention this endless fucking shitty, unpaved road? eh?”

you hunched down in your seat next to him and reread the instructions from soap, hoping to find a clue as to where you were on the, admittedly adorable yet detailed, map he’d drawn. you’d found it endearing when you’d first saw it but now you were thinking it was more of a necessity.

elliot snatched your phone from your hand and split his focus between the dark road and your phone, scrolling erratically to find the directions in the email he wanted. your hand hovered between you, eager to take your phone back but hesitant to foul his mood further.

your eyes caught on movement on the road and you quickly gripped the wheel to swerve and avoid hitting a deer that had wandered out from the trees. “fuck, elliot, watch out!”

he slammed on the breaks and dropped your phone into your footwell as he automatically gripped the wheel to take over from you.

you both sat still, panting; anxiety and adrenaline pumping through your body as you tried to tell it and brain that you were fine, it could calm down, you were ok. you rubbed at your shoulder where your seatbelt had dug in.

elliot started up the car again, silent, and went slower down the road until the headlights caught on a misshapen tree. you squinted before pointing it out. “here, look. i think that’s the owl, go left.”

it only took a few minutes before you could see the lights from kyle and johnny’s farmhouse. the shape of their barn and surrounding smaller outbuildings stark against the natural curves of the hills and trees they were settled amongst.

“we’re here,” you said excitedly. “they said to pull around the side of the barn to the garage they have at the side. their house should be riiight there.” you grinned as you parked directly in front of it on the gravel next to their truck.

“great,” elliot said sarcastically. you didn’t mention his tone knowing that having to drive all day, several hours longer than you’d both expected, would have rankled anyone’s mood.

you climbed out without a word and got your bags out of the back of the car. when you rounded back to the front you found johnny and kyle walking to meet you already, their front door left open behind them.

“bonnie! ye made it,” johnny said as he jogged over to you excitedly. you let go of your suitcase as he pulled you into a hug as soon as you were close enough, scuffing his stubble against your neck in his excitement.

“down, boy,” kyle laughed, nudging johnny out of the way to give you his own hug. once he pulled back he nodded to elliot and smirked. “thought you’d maybe gotten lost, we were ready to start a search party.”

elliot bristled but johnny spoke up before he could defend himself.

“aye, but tea is still warm and ready to be served, an’ ahm fucking starving so let’s get inside yeah?” johnny slapped elliot’s shoulder before leading you all to the house. “done a big roasty fer the pair a’ye, so i hope yer hungry.”

the heat encompassed you as soon as you stepped inside, led through to the kitchen-stroke-dining room. the food smelled divine and the warmth accumulated from the oven and the fireplace had your shoulders relaxing instantly.

the house was far from modern with its mismatched old wooden chairs around the handmade table and the well-loved couch you could spot through in the next room, nothing like your lifeless flat in london. but the farmhouse was still stylish in its own way, in the colour of the cabinets, the throw on couch, the wallpaper leading up the stairs. though more importantly, it was homely. lived in.

“i can imagine the drive wasnae easy for first timers, so sit yerselves down and i’ll plate the food, gaz’ll get the wine,” johnny said.

you pulled out the chair next to elliot, leaving the two opposite you empty.

johnny clapped his hands as if to say voilà when he put down your heaped plates a minute later.

“this looks amazing, johnny, you cooked this?” you asked, eyes round and barely stopping yourself from digging in to be polite.

“have a great sous chef,” he said and patted kyle’s arse when he passed by with the wine. kyle smirked.

“how did you find the drive up, seriously?” kyle asked as he poured your drinks. he took a seat with johnny and gestured for you to start eating; now with permission, you didn’t hesitate.

“it was fine. might’ve been easier if we were given an address instead, satnav might’ve made it quicker,” elliot said as he pushed around some of the steamed vegetables on his plate.

“the views made taking our time worth it though, the valleys we passed were gorgeous,” you gushed. “i didn’t realise there were so many small lakes too.”

elliot sniffed irritably, but you didn’t notice. in fact you’d barely noticed how he played with his food more than ate it as you were too busy chatting and eating. you were going crazy for the hearty roast dinner, you could see in the colour and in the bursting taste of the veg just how fresh it all was; nothing like the store bought stuff you usually got at home.

you hadn’t had anything home cooked in so long that you hadn’t made yourself, and when you told kyle and johnny so they both reared back as though slapped.

“oh love, you’re missing out, that’s not right. don’t worry we’ll take care of you while you’re here,” kyle promised.

elliot cleared his throat. “got any salt?”

johnny’s eyes flickered tersely from elliot to the roast beef he was poking on his plate and back up again. “sure. let me just grab it for ye.”

“cheers,” elliot smiled thinly.

“top up?” kyle asked and gestured to your wine glass. you nodded before turning to elliot, but he wasn’t looking your way so you held your glass out.

“thanks. god, after this and the long drive i think i’ll be ready for bed; sorry excuse for company on the first night,” you apologised.

“we’re just happy to have you here,” kyle assured you as johnny sat back down. your husband doused his food in salt before making a better dent in it, downing his wine quickly afterwards with a wince.

“yeah, i think it’ll be an early one for us tonight, won’t it, darling?” elliot said and started to stand, rudely pushing his unfinished plate away. “in fact, i think i’m pretty tired now.”

you looked down at the last few bites of your meal and the full glass of wine forlornly but stood alongside elliot.

“it really was a fantastic meal, thank you so much, johnny,” you said.

“anytime for you, hen,” he said. “here, let us show you to your room.”

“i’ll grab the dishes while you take them up, johnny. you cooked so i’ll clean,” kyle said, hooking a finger in johnny’s jeans to catch his attention when he stood up. you felt a sharp pang at their easy domesticity. sure they’d said they’d known each other, been together, for a decade, but it still ached that you and elliot where struggling so obviously in comparison despite your sixth anniversary nearing on the horizon.

you gave kyle a fragile smile as you followed johnny upstairs with your bags to your room for the week.

“i’ll leave you to it, see ye in the morning,” johnny said as you settled into your room.

“this is amazing,” you said with a small laugh, disbelief and joy mixing into something like hope as you started to get undressed. the view out of your bedroom looked over the front garden and you felt giddy at the idea of staying with your new friends for the next few days and exploring the area further.

“it’s… quaint,” elliot said.

you turned to him, your mouth pulled tight. “please don’t start.”

“what? it’s just… smaller than what we’re used to,” he said with a shrug, starting to laugh as he gestured at the room. “i mean look at this place, and the bed.”

“keep your voice down at least, elliot,” you hissed, eyes sharp on the closed door of your bedroom.

“darling, you know i get overheated easily, and by the looks of it we’re going to be pressed side by side all night. and i doubt they have a/c,” elliot huffed. he sat down on the bed and rolled his eyes when it squeaked. “oh, come on.”

“we could open the window,” you said stubbornly, ignoring elliot as he shifted to make the bed squeak again.

“and let in the smell of sheep shit? not your brightest idea,” he scoffed. “christ and never mind the bloody noise on top of that. good thing i brought my ear plugs or i’d never get any sleep.”

you bit your tongue when you thought of the constant traffic noises that flooded into your apartment at all times of the day and night, the light pollution that did its best to creep past your blackout curtains.

“i’m sure you’ll get used to it after the first couple of nights,” you said instead and moved to join him in bed. you reached for his hand and squeezed it, leaning in for a kiss, teasing your tongue at his lips for a split second before pulling back. “just… please be nice?”

he sighed.

“fine,” he conceded. “i was just expecting something a little nicer considering the price of the trip we met them on.”

you scowled at him and let go of his hand. “you’re being rude.”

you leant over to turn off your lamp and laid down facing away from him. neither of you noticed the shadows shift under your door, the light footsteps heading away from your room.

---

you woke up the next morning to find elliot already in the shower, you could hear the pipes from the bathroom next door and noticed his suitcase had been half unpacked.

you were grateful he’d let you sleep, you’d gone to bed frustrated and you didn’t want to carry it on this morning. it was a new day and you were eager to have fun.

you walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. as you gazed out your eyes naturally drifted to johnny, stood near the barn you’d passed on your way in. he was small given the distance but you couldn’t help but stare as he rhythmically chopped logs into smaller, more manageable pieces.

he was sweating, the repetitive action of driving the axe up and then through the thick wood obviously tiring, and you felt water pool in your mouth as you looked on gormlessly.

the sleeves of his thick checked shirt were rolled up his forearms and part of you wished he’d decided to chop the wood in the driveway so you’d have a clearer view of his muscles at work. he wiped his face on his bicep and suddenly turned to the house, to your window.

you ducked away before he could catch you and started to get dressed out of the line of sight the windows may provide. with your face aflame and anxious butterflies rampant in your stomach, you needed to get your head on straight and decidedly not ogle your new friends.

with one last stern word to yourself you headed downstairs back to the kitchen and found gaz pottering around.

“ah morning, love. coffee?” he offered, holding out a cup. you took it gratefully with a small thank you and sat at the table again. there was a plate of toast in the middle, enough slices freshly made made for the four of you, and you reached forward for one. “i was thinking me and soap could show you a hiking trail nearby, make a day of it.”

“the one you showed me on your phone?” you asked, nodding enthusiastically regardless of his answer.

“this one’s even better,” gaz said, smiling fondly. “just might take longer.”

“coffee? thank you, darling,” elliot mumbled as he swiped your coffee from your hands without asking and distracting you from answering gaz. you’d barely had a sip before elliot was finishing the drink off in one go. “mm, bit too milky for my liking,” he told you and sucked his teeth.

“probably because it wasn’t for you,” kyle said flatly. “we’re going on a hike today, care to join or has work called you in already?”

“i’d love a hike,” elliot said brightly. johnny walked in through the front door as elliot continued to talk about the hikes he’d been on before, heading to the sink to wash his hands and leaning up to kiss kyle as he passed. “work can wait for the great outdoors. my wife here knows how much i love going on— on uh, on hikes and finding new trails and mapping them out.” elliot stumbled over his words for a second, taken back by the kiss.

johnny’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh and he turned and winked at you as he opened up a cupboard door that hid his face from your husband.

“oh, so you two go together?” kyle asked.

“no, no,” elliot laughed like the thought was ridiculous. “i go with my mates. not really her thing.”

you pursed your lips; you hated it when elliot answered for you, especially when he was wrong. which was often. instead of fussing though, you focused your ire on another slice of toast from the centre of the table.

“right.” kyle stood from his chair and went to lean next to johnny on one of the kitchen counters. “we’ll pack a bag full of snacks and drinks and then we can be off. give us fifteen minutes?”

you nodded, thankful for the excuse to leave elliot at the table, and went to grab your walking boots before coming back to wait with elliot near the door.

“quicker to get there from the back,” johnny said and led you through the rest of the downstairs out into the back garden.

it looked like it could spread for acres if not for the looming trees of the forest fencing it in.

to the left was their chicken coop and a small locked shed. if you turned around you’d see your cars parked, the garage and then the barn further up.

the chicken coop was on solid muddy ground, closer to the gravel front, whereas the shed was further up on the flat grassy area that began to rise into a small hill further back and closer to the trees; there was a small iron table sat with four chairs closer to the house and you couldn’t wait to use it, imagining sitting out there for lunch or breakfast.

to your right you took in their allotment, the large raised beds full of blooming vegetables; tall beans climbing the trellis arches from one side to another. you saw noticed the glint of a greenhouse hidden behind it all. everything was encouraged to grow to its fullest and you bet the food they’d served the night before had been grown by their very own hands.

“we’ve got strawberries if ye’d like tae pick some over the next few days,” johnny said as he walked you down to the end of the garden, catching the way your eyes were glued to the allotment.

“i’d love that, i haven’t been strawberry picking since i was little,” you said.

johnny nodded. “settled then.”

---

the hike wasn’t difficult, but living down south in a very flat city hadn’t built up your cardio for the steep hills and climbs at all.

“this is a good place to stop for lunch,” johnny said, apropos to nothing.

he squeezed your arm as he wandered off the path towards the edge of the hill. you were halfway there to the top, but already you were loving the views.

“knee bothering you, johnny?” kyle asked as he pulled out a rainproof sheet from his bag and started placing the food out in the tupperware boxes.

“something like that,” he said.

you laughed when you saw johnny pull out a bottle of wine from his.

“just tryin’ tae make use of all the wine we bought on holiday, hen,” he snickered.

you sat down and helped them spread the food out while your husband paced from the ledge to the path and then to the blanket, only to start again.

“have a seat elliot,” you said encouragingly, patting the space you’d left purposely empty next to you.

he slumped down with a huff and kyle side-eyed him.

“how was your night? sleep well?”

“hope the room wasnae too small,” johnny added, biting into a cheese cracker as he looked to your husband.

you felt your stomach drop and your face heat up. “no, not at all—“

“i think i’m just used to the finer things,” elliot said, picking up one of the packed travel cups pointedly and pouring himself some wine.

“we slept fine,” you said firmly as you frowned at elliot. “it’s perfect.”

“ah, we’re just joking around, hen, no need to fash,” johnny teased. “you pack yer paints?”

“shit.” your face dropped as you looked at him. “i completely forgot when i was packing, i was too excited.”

johnny grinned. “you can borrow mine, it’s alright.”

“if they’re not dried up that is,” kyle said with a laugh. “i’ve not seen you touch paints in years, johnny.”

“they’re water paints, gaz, they’re meant tae be dry,” johnny said with a roll of his eyes. he looked to you and covered the side of his mouth. “yer a breath o’fresh air, ye have no idea. i love him but he doesnae have the eye fer it, you know?”

“im right bloody here,” kyle said exasperatedly, making you laugh.

“fucking hell,” your husband muttered under his breath before standing. “i think i’m gonna go ahead and have a look at the trail, get a lay of the land. i’ll turn around in ten and meet you back here.”

“are you sure?” you asked at the same time johnny warned him, “don’t go off the path.”

“why not?” elliot asked, taking it as a challenge despite johnny’s grave tone.

“go straight so you don’t get lost,” johnny repeated seriously. “it’s a tricky place, these woods. one wrong turn and you’ll ne’er be found.”

elliot stayed silent for a moment, left off kilter by johnny’s intense eyes, before laughing, waving him of with a scoff. “sure thing, johnny.”

you watch your husband walk off with an uneasy feeling before kyle and johnny’s easy going nature distracted you once more.

before you knew it it’d been twenty minutes, but you were too busy talking about how they’d ended up moving out so far away from their original shared home, that you hadn’t noticed elliot wasn’t back yet.

“it’s great here, but it can feel… lonely sometimes, just the two of us,” johnny admitted as he looked to kyle. the handsome man nodded and knocked their knees together.

“i know how that feels,” you said, three cups of wine having loosened your lips.

“yeah?” kyle asked softly, tilting his head to meet your downcast eyes.

you opened and closed your mouth a few times before taking a deep breath.

“i want a baby,” you said weakly, sadly. you were quiet as though hoping not to be overheard. “elliot doesn’t think it’s the right time, but im starting to doubt it’d ever be the right time if it were up to him.”

you blink at the anger that had seeped into your last words and gasped as you realised that you’d actually finally said them out loud. not even your therapist had gotten you to admit this.

“oh god, please forget i said that,” you begged them suddenly, wide eyed and pleading. “please. don’t say anything to elliot about it. i— i think i’ve just drank a little too much,” you tried to excuse yourself.

“hey, it’s ok,” johnny said with a concerned frown.

“i didn’t mean it,” you rushed out.

kyle moved to elliot’s previous spot and pulled you in for a warm hug, calming you down.

“it’s normal to want things and to be disappointed when the person that promised you them can’t deliver,” he whispered. you sniffled and slowly wrapped your arms back around him with a nod, tears building behind yojr closed eyelids. you slumped into his hold further when johnny’s large hand rubbed soothingly across your back below kyle’s arms.

it was nice. simply being between them and being comforted by them was nice.

you leaned back and wiped at your eyes with a sniffly laugh.

“thank you, guys, i— thank you.”

gaz squeezed your shoulder for a moment before finally letting you go.

you felt fidgety, needing to do something with your hands and to keep them from staring at your red rimmed eyed, so you reached for a handful of grapes when it suddenly occurred to you that elliot wasn’t back. you looked at your watch and swore.

“elliot’s not here yet, shit what if he’s lost?”

“he won’t be,” johnny reassured you, standing alongside you and grabbing your shoulders. “he’s an experienced hiker, right? he probably lost track a’time like we did.”

“let’s get this packed away and we’ll go catch up to him,” kyle suggested. you nodded, easily calmed once given easy orders to occupy your busy mind

---

“elliot?” you called out as you walked, johnny and kyle on either side of you, looking out into the trees in case he’d gone off track. “you there? elliot?”

“stop shouting, christ, i’m here,” elliot complained further up the trail. he was slouched against a tree. “took you all long enough.”

“oh my god, what happened,” you said as you crouched next to him, looking at the sorry swollen state of his ankle.

“twisted it looks like, worst-case it could be a sprain,” kyle said from over your shoulder. “should be fine, we can get home with him leaning on our shoulders, right, soap?”

johnny tutted in disappointment as he stared down the path instead of at your injured husband.

“the waterfall was only five minutes away as well,” johnny said to no one in particular. he crouched next to elliot. “c’mon then, let’s get you back.”

your husband bristled. he looked longingly down the trail johnny had gestured to just a moment before.

“we should still go, i’ll be fine,” he insisted. “we should go to the waterfall.”

gaz raised his eyebrows incredulously as he helped elliot stand, but he stayed silent.

“you want to lean on me or johnny?” he asked.

“whoever gets us there quicker,” elliot said, face pinched.

kyle rolled his eyes and set off walking, leaving elliot to wince until he matched kyle’s stride. luckily the walk wasn’t long before the four of you cut off the trail and found yourselves stood at the bottom of the waterfall, a light mist of water splashing at your bare skin from where you stood.

“holy shit.”

johnny nudged your shoulders together with a laugh.

“impressive, right?”

“to say the least,” you huffed.

kyle had helped elliot sit down by the edge of the plunge pool with his leg stretched out as you’d taken in the view with johnny, though you soon took a seat next to elliot when you noticed he was situated as comfortable as could be. you pulled off your shoes and socks and shuffled forwards a little to dip your feet in the water, kicking lightly and grinning even with how the cold bit at your toes.

elliot stayed stern faced even as he looked at the impressive feature, but kyle and johnny took no notice.

they started to undress, throwing their clothes down haphazardly by their bags.

“you coming in?” kyle asked you cheekily.

“we go in every time we’re here, tradition now,” johnny explained once he was stood in his underwear.

“i don’t have my swimsuit,” you said hesitantly.

“jus’ go in yer kegs like us,” johnny dismissed the worry.

“it’s probably for the best she’s said no,” elliot said meanly, one eyebrow raised as he looked over your relaxed form, your stomach rolls obvious and plush under the afternoon sun and your thighs spread thick where they pressed against the edge of the natural pool. you suddenly felt the need to layer up in your baggiest clothes. “she’s happy enough sat with me. isn’t that right, darling?”

you felt embarrassment, hot and sharp, flood from your face to your toes as you stared at him. this was your husband. a man that took delight in belittling you.

“oi,” johnny warned from where he stood waist deep in the water.

you ignored them both and stood suddenly, shucking off your clothes with tight angry movements, a smile only eventually pulling at your lips when kyle wolf whistled playfully.

johnny joined in jeering and clapped as you stepped carefully closer to the edge before jumping in. once you resurfaced, you resolutely faced away from the scowl you knew would be on your husband’s face. you were past caring.

the cold of the water had you sucking in thinner breaths until you acclimatised, and you were grateful it was deep enough to brush your collarbones as you could tell your nipples were babbling from the chill.

“be careful, love, there are fish in here,” gaz said as he drifted closer to your front. his smile was bordering on mischievous but it eased your slight reservations of being in the water. “but don’t worry they don’t bite.”

you felt a sudden pinch on your buttcheek and you squealed before johnny’s laugh and warm chest at your back registered. you flushed hot and dug your elbow back into his ribs as they laughed, both barely giving you space to float alone.

they guided you closer to the waterfall with easy going smiles and it wasn’t until you felt their capable hands on your hips and tummy to keep you from being dragged under as you held your hands under the heavy pour that you looked back guiltily at your husband. you pushed off and away from them but continued to swim a little while longer until elliot kicked up a fuss, bored.

“are we done now? it’s getting dark, we should be heading back,” he spoke up when it looked like the three of you weren’t tiring any time soon. “and then there’s dinner to think of.”

“you offering to cook, elliot?” kyle said as he climbed out of the water.

elliot scoffed. “not likely. with the ankle and all,” he said patronisingly.

gaz smiled thinly. “of course.”

the three of you dried off as best you could before dressing and heading back to the farmhouse with elliot leant between johnny and kyle.

even as your clothes chafed against your damp skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret swimming. thought the cold was biting even through your coat, and a warm shower was calling for you back at the farmhouse.

---

once you were back you showered quickly and then ran a bath for elliot. you helped ease him in so he didn’t slip and further injure himself.

“put on a real fucking show today,” he grumbled once he was laid back. you cupped the water over his hair carefully.

“what do you mean?” you grabbed the shampoo and began lathering it.

“don’t play dumb,” he hissed. “acting like that, like a whore, with them. again.”

“i wasn’t—“

“you’re a fucking hypocrite,” he said harshly. “punishing me for one little mistake but now you get to act like this with other men?”

you let your hands hang over the edge of the tub in shock. “you cheated on me. more than once, elliot. that’s not a little mistake.”

“we’re past this,” he said tiredly with a shake of his head, rubbing his hand over his forehead to wipe away the dripping shampoo.

“then why did you bring it up?”

he turned to look at you, disgust clear on his face.

“you’re ugly when you get like this,” he said simply. “leave me to it, i’ll call you in when i need a hand getting out.”

your lip trembled as you stood and went back to your room. as you closed the door behind you, you heard elliot mutter to himself, “he’s an absolute idiot thinking this was only a twisted ankle, clearly not a doctor. the swelling has hardly gone down.”

you didn’t react, heading to the room next door with watery eyes. as you were tidying up your clothes, sniffling back angry and hurt tears, there was a knock on the doorframe. your turned to see johnny with a plate in his hand.

“thought i’d make things easier and bring his tea up fer him,” he said and put it on the bedside table. “do you want me to bring up yours too or will you be joining us?”

“oh, i’m not hungry, thank you johnny,” you said with a watery smile. the food looked delicious but elliot’s words had soured your appetite. “i think i’m just going to go to bed as soon as elliot’s alright.”

“ye sure?”

“mhm.” you nodded.

johnny nodded, said a soft, “let me know if ye change your mind.” he pulled out a pack of pain tablets from his pocket with a little wave and dropped them on the bed and then left.

you waited for elliot’s shout before you went to help him out of the bath and back through to your room. you left him to dry and dress himself and once he was sat on the bed with his food, you turned your back to him and willed yourself to fall asleep quickly.

part two

want to email johnny? click here!

#it’s here!! and posted correctly hopefully!!#face claim for elliot of oliver jackson cohen bc he’s hot but he plays an arshole really well #i’ve had a lot of fun writing this over the last month #took me forever but it turned out a hell of a lot longer than i’d anticipated too #hoping the email idea doesn’t flop and goes well!!#thank u kai for helping me with my ocs and thank you birdy for helping me pic the fic title!!#ily guys :’)#full disclosure idk if the area i chose is all that solitary Imao i've never been to scotland never mind falkland or the reservoir #i just looked at google maps lol #soapgaz x reader #soapgaz #soap x reader x gaz #johnny soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw abusive relationship #tw abusive relationship #let me know if more tags are wanted or needed #fat reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish x reader x kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish x reader x kyle garrick #soap x reader #gaz x reader

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edenesth · 9 months ago

Text

TWTHH Bonus: Star of the Show

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: In case you haven't already read Honeymoon Avenue (the first bonus chapter), it's probably better to check that out before reading this. Also, please be warned that this contains a slight spoiler to Wooyoung and Hongjoong's spinoffs.

Honeymoon Avenue | Fic Masterlist

"Your wife is with child."

The words echoed in the general's mind long after Yunho had uttered them. You remained unconscious in his room, undergoing a more thorough examination. Seonghwa had been asked to leave while you were attended to. He felt a wave of relief knowing that, according to the physician, your fainting spell was simply your body's way of compensating for the exhaustion caused by the demands of the little one growing inside you.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay."

"I'm counting on you, Yunho," he recalled telling the doctor before exiting his private quarters, his gaze lingering on your still, pale figure nestled under the covers.

"When have I ever let you down, my lord? She'll be fine, the baby will be fine; your family, they'll be just fine."

Realising there was no use lingering outside while the physician and his team of servants were busy examining you—his presence wouldn't change anything—he decided to occupy himself elsewhere while he waited. However, returning to his study seemed impossible; he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

As if with a mind of its own, his feet carried him toward the House of Lotus. His heart warmed at the familiar sight of the pavilion facing the lotus pond, your favourite spot, once empty but now furnished with a small table, cosy cushioned seats, and decorative lanterns. It was a testament to the time you two spent together there. He could never tire of being there with you, and the mere thought of spending eternity like that was more than enough to fill his heart with joy.

Soon, it wouldn't just be us two.

Deciding not to sit alone without you, he opted to enter your quarters instead, where every corner held a piece of you. He softened as he opened the door and spotted your embroidery kit at the centre of the room. You had been deeply invested in the craft ever since Hongjoong had taught you a few techniques, dedicating nearly all your time to it when you weren't occupied with anything else. He remembered finding you diligently working on it late into the night and had to gently coax you to bed with him.

Approaching the items, he settled into your usual spot before going through the designs you had created. A chuckle escaped him as he took in some of your earlier, more clumsy works—clearly, these were from when you first began learning from the dressmaker. As he continued, a smile graced his lips at the gradual improvement in quality. It hinted at the possibility that you had discovered a hidden talent; his friend would surely be proud to see your progress.

However, his movements faltered as he reached the bottom of the pile and discovered what appeared to be a... baby shirt. Realisation dawned on him: had this been your secret project all along? Were you aware of your pregnancy all this time?

Questions flooded his mind, each one more pressing than the last. Why hadn't you told him? Why had you lied and pretended everything was fine when you must have been feeling so sick? Did you not trust him enough to confide in him?

His heart ached with the thought that you might have felt the need to hide something so important from him. It left him feeling a mix of confusion, hurt, and a tinge of betrayal. Had he not made it clear that he was there for you, no matter what?

As he sat there, staring at the tiny garment in his hands, he couldn't help but wonder what reasons you could have had for keeping this from him. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more heartbreaking than the last. He thought back to all the times you had been showing symptoms of pregnancy, and it hurt him to know you didn't feel safe enough to tell him the truth. Was it because you didn't think he would be a good father? What if, deep down, there was a part of you that was still afraid of him? What if—

Before his thoughts could further linger, a knock on the door snapped him out of his train of thought. Turning to see who it was, he allowed entry and found Eunsook standing there with a smile on her face, "The mistress is awake, master," she announced. With that, all his previous worries were momentarily swept from his mind. Only you mattered as he quickly rose from his seat and dashed towards his room to see you.

Rushing into the room, Seonghwa's heart raced as he laid eyes on you, sitting up on his bed with Yunho standing beside you. Relief flooded him as he saw you speaking softly with the physician, a gentle hand pressed against your stomach.

Oh thank god, she's alright... they're alright.

Moving closer, he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. Despite the recent scare, you looked calm and serene, your presence soothing his worried mind. He approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt your conversation with Yunho but eager to be by your side.

As soon as your eyes met, he noticed the hint of moisture gathering in your gaze as you uttered his name, "Hwa..." His heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice, and he quickly moved forward, settling beside you on the bed. Gently, he grasped your hand, brushing strands of hair away from your face and stroking your cheek, "What's wrong, my love? Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded, leaning into his touch and motioning for Yunho to speak on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, the physician began, "Her condition is currently stable, my lord."

Seonghwa furrowed his brow in dread, "I'm sensing a 'but' there."

"But..." the doctor continued, "Due to years of severe malnutrition throughout the lady's childhood, her body lacks many essential nutrients necessary for both her and the baby. This explains her weakness. But fear not, I will do everything in my power to ensure her full recovery. Once we pass the three-month mark safely, the remainder of the pregnancy should proceed smoothly."

"I... I understand. Thank you again, Yunho, for your hard work. It seems we'll need your frequent visits for the next few months," the general acknowledged, offering a grateful nod to his friend.

"No problem, my lord and lady. I'll ensure Eunsook receives all the necessary information for the mistress' care. Please excuse me, I should get started on the preparations immediately."

Once Yunho had left and you were alone together, your husband turned his attention back to you. Squeezing your hand gently, he couldn't shake the image of the baby shirt from his mind. He knew he had to address it. Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss on your forehead before delicately broaching the subject, "I... I have a question."

You responded in a soft voice, returning the squeeze of his hand, "What is it, Hwa?"

"My love, have you been aware that you were pregnant all along?"

As your gaze met his, he rested his forehead against yours, seeking to reassure you, "It's just... I was going through your embroideries earlier and I saw it—the baby shirt."

You let out a soft sigh, nodding, "Yes, I... I had a feeling, and I've been preparing myself to tell you about it, Hwa. But I just didn't know how to say it. I was scared of your reaction." When he attempted to pull away, you reached out, cupping his face to keep him close, "Listen to me, I'm not afraid of you. I... I know you've never had a proper family growing up—both of us, actually—and... I can't help but wonder if you might hate the idea of starting one."

His heart swelled with understanding, realising he had momentarily let his earlier insecurities get the best of him. Of course, you were simply concerned about him. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips before murmuring tenderly, "With another person, I would hate the idea. But with you, my love, I want it all."

Feeling touched by his words, you realised you had never needed to overthink the situation. You should have known that his love and acceptance were unwavering.

Perhaps you had just been overwhelmed by the idea of a tiny life growing inside you—a product of your love with Seonghwa. The thought of having a baby, your baby, filled you with joy and apprehension. Neither of you had experienced a conventional family upbringing, and you feared whether you could provide the love and care this child deserved. Since the first moment you felt sick and figured you might be pregnant, endless questions floated around your mind.

Were you ready?

Was he ready?

What if he didn't want children?

But now, those fears seemed unfounded. As tears welled in your eyes, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and buried your face against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. He held you close, peppering kisses all over your head, his love and warmth enveloping you. Through your tears, you whispered, "I love you, Hwa."

You could feel his smile against your skin as he leaned his head against yours, his voice soft and reassuring, "I love you more, my wife, and that'll never change."

In the days that followed, you found yourself hardly ever alone. Your husband seemed determined to stay by your side every moment, as if he hadn't already been doing so since he dismissed all his friends. Now, he was even more attentive and vigilant, always ensuring he was nearby to keep watch over you. And whenever he needed to retreat to his study for brief meetings with Jongho, Eunsook remained faithfully by your side.

Today was another one of those days when he had no choice but to attend to some work. He hadn't been attending the daily assemblies for a while, so the least he could do was go through some reports to stay updated on the latest happenings in court.

Meanwhile, the head maid remained by your side in your room. You sat with a cookbook in your hand, diligently trying to learn new recipes. As the saying goes, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and although you already had a hold on Seonghwa's heart, you were determined to work even harder to keep it safe with you.

"You've been quite busy lately, mistress, with cooking and embroidering. I think the master might be getting a bit jealous that you're not as focused on him as you are on these tasks," she joked, gently brushing your hair as she observed your focused expression.

With a playful giggle, you shot her a glance, "Is he really? Well, everything I do, I do it to be a better wife for him and a better mother to this little one," you said, smiling down at your growing bump.

Eunsook's expression softened, "I'm just kidding. I'm sure the master knows that," she reassured before pausing, "Mistress, have you both thought about baby names yet?"

At that, your eyes widened, and you set down the book in your hands, "Oh dear, we haven't. I've been so invested in everything else, it seems I might have overlooked the most important thing."

She chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, "Don't worry, you still have plenty of time until the little one is born. Perhaps you and the master could start thinking about it now."

Later that night, as you lay in bed next to your husband, the words of the head maid lingered in your mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your eyelids, you found yourself unable to sleep as your thoughts drifted towards potential names for the future baby Park. Each name you considered brought with it a flood of emotions and images of what your child might look like, how they would grow, and the kind of person they would become.

Sensing your slight movements, Seonghwa kissed your head softly, his voice gentle, "Are you still awake, my love?"

You grinned sheepishly, patting his chest, "I'm fine, Hwa. You go ahead and sleep. You must be tired."

But he sighed, gently sitting up with you still in his arms, ensuring the comforter covered you, "Not as tired as you. You're carrying a little person. Now, do you want to tell me why you're still not sleeping?"

Smiling shyly, you met his gaze, "I was talking to Eunsook earlier and realised... we haven't thought of any baby names."

His mouth formed an 'O' in realisation, mirroring your surprise. It seemed he, too, had not given it much thought. Nodding slowly, he whispered, "That's right, we haven't," pulling you closer to him, he relished the way your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, "So, what do you have in mind then? Have you managed to come up with anything with all that thinking, hm?"

You replied, nervously nibbling on your lip, "Actually, I have thought of a name. If it's a girl, Yeonjoo feels right."

He hummed, considering deeply, "Yeonjoo... like a lotus princess?"

You beamed, "Exactly. She'd be our little princess, growing up in the House of Lotus."

His heart swelled; your choice held significance. It wasn't just a random pretty name; it carried depth. Planting a kiss on your cheek, he smiled, "It's perfect. So, if it's a girl, Yeonjoo it is."

You cheered, "Okay, any ideas for a boy?"

He hesitated, then brightened, "You know what? I do have one in mind, though it might not be as thoughtful as yours. How about Jiyeong? It means a wise and brave hero, and it could also symbolise a flower petal, like the lotus. It'd be wonderful if he grew up to be intelligent and brave enough to protect his eomma," he murmured, gently placing his hand on your bump and stroking it.

"I think Jiyeong is a wonderful choice, Hwa, if it's a boy," you whispered, a sense of relief washing over you now that you finally had names for your child.

Covering his hand on your stomach with yours, you looked up at him with slightly wet eyes, "Gosh, can you believe we're going to be parents in a few months?"

"It's surreal sometimes, my love. And I'll admit, I am a little scared. But I know we'll manage. It won't be easy, but as long as we face it together, we'll be fine."

Yes, I know we will.

The first three months seemed to pass in a whirlwind, with Yunho's weekly visits becoming a familiar routine. Each time, he checked on your condition and brought herbs to boost your health and stabilise the pregnancy, ensuring everything progressed smoothly. Amidst this, life outside your little family continued to unfold.

You recall a particular evening when Wooyoung rushed in, desperate for your husband's aid to rescue a certain Miss Han. In a matter of weeks, she became a temporary resident in your household while still courting the private investigator. Her presence was delightful as she eagerly assisted you in cooking and embroidering, all while awaiting Wooyoung's eventual proposal that would take her away.

And through him, you learned of Hongjoong's latest job, assisting the youngest miss of the Baek family. It appeared to affect the dressmaker unexpectedly, stirring emotions no one had anticipated, especially him, even requiring a little nudge from both Seonghwa and Wooyoung to realise his feelings.

Before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the dining hall, surrounded by your husband's friends. Giving your hand a squeeze, Seonghwa cleared his throat to grab their attention, "Guys," he began, "we've gathered you all here today because we have an announcement to make."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, chimed in, "Pssh, I had a feeling. I knew you wouldn't be treating us to a meal for no reason."

Yunho's knowing grin widened, excited to see the dressmaker's reaction while Wooyoung leaned forward excitedly in his seat, nudging San beside him, who smiled back but inwardly wished the investigator would leave him alone. Mingi promptly set down his wine glass, eager to hear what was to come.

"I hope you're all excited because you're going to be uncles soon," the general announced, prompting cheers from everyone at the table.

The lovely Miss Han, seated beside you, wasted no time in giving you a side hug, though she had already been privy to your little secret. She had even been considerate enough to keep her man in the dark about it.

Wooyoung joined in the celebration, clapping enthusiastically, oblivious that his other half had been aware the whole time, "I knew it! I could tell she was pregnant from my first visit all those months ago. You've been so oddly careful with her ever since!"

At that, Hongjoong's expression darkened, "What do you mean, all those months ago? How far along are you, my lady?"

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, "Three months."

The dressmaker's jaw dropped in disbelief, "You didn't think to tell us until now? Park Seonghwa, what kind of friend are you?"

Yunho scoffed and rolled his eyes, "See, that's why you're an idiot. What does Miss Baek even see in you, I'll never know. Obviously, they wanted to wait until her condition was stable before telling everyone. Why do you think I've been so busy for the past few months?"

Hongjoong shot him a glare, "Oh, I don't know? Maybe because you've been trying to spend all your time with a certain Miss Ryu?"

The physician sputtered in shock, but before the argument could escalate, Jongho appeared behind them, smacking both on the back, "That's enough, you two. Please continue this another time."

Your husband interjected, shooting the assistant a grateful smile, "That's right. As Yunho mentioned, we just wanted to wait until it was safe before telling you guys."

San and Mingi softened, offering heartfelt congratulations to you and Seonghwa, prompting the rest of the guys to do the same. However, the peace was short-lived. Wooyoung eagerly raised his hand, "Ooh, can I please be the godfather?"

The dressmaker was quick to object, "Excuse me? If anyone here is to be the godfather, it's obviously me! Know your place, you fool."

"Oh, dear god, here we go again," your husband muttered beside you.

You couldn't help but grin at their endless shenanigans, glancing down at your stomach and rubbing it affectionately. You already knew this baby would be spoiled rotten even before entering the world. It seemed this little one was already the star of the show.

I contemplated how much of the pregnancy I should cover, but I think I'll only do this much for now! Because any further than this, and that might spoil some of the other members' spinoffs. I shall focus on finishing up all the rest of the stories after this, and who knows? There could be more bonus chapters in the future, we'll see~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/6): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo |

@sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @skzline |

@itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @xoxkii @avantalem @famishalll |

@soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol |

@atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii |

@ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo |

@puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks |

@aliona124754 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @1117promises @deltamoon666 |

@st4rhwa @hikarii02 @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @thunderous-wolf |

@minkiflwr @starssongs98 @kawaiikels @en-happiness @cheolliehugs |

@persnyako @startinystay @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina |

@kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja |

@idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @idfkeddieishot @yuyubun

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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evera-era · 1 year ago

Text

pretty on camera.

ellie williams x afab!reader

warnings: tlou!au, slight coercion, dirty talk, oral e!receiving, fingering, spanking, ellie is kinda rough, sex tape !!

a/n: writer’s block has been pretty horrible so i’m sorry for the delay on this </3 not proofread (yet… will do later)

You hear Ellie’s footsteps behind you. She enters the bedroom you’re in, giving a small sigh. The two of you were currently on patrol, scouting a cabin. This route typically didn’t give you any problems; it could be a bit of a drag.

“Everything good?” You ask, opening up a desk drawer.

“Yeah, it’s all clear.” She replies. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” You mumble. “Fuckin’ around a little.”

She scoffs, smirking. “Don’t let Maria find out.”

You picked up a small glass marble sitting in the corner of the drawer. You roll it between your fingers.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” You add.

Ellie shrugs, watching you. You set the marble down and look over at the bed. You pause for a second before getting on your knees to check underneath it.

“Depends,” She replies, shifting her weight on her feet. “What’s in it for me?”

“We bein’ PG?” You ask her.

You can hear Ellie emit a small chuckle from above. During your search, your eyes catch onto a bulky, grey object. Upon further inspection, it appears to be a camcorder. You furrow your brows in disbelief.

“No fucking way.” You say under your breath. You grab it and pull it out to examine it. You push yourself up from the ground, opting to sit crisscrossed instead.

At first sight, the camcorder was dusty, but in relatively good condition. You were hesitant about whether it had any battery left, and if the battery would even work. But it was worth a shot.

“Check this out,” You say, chucking the camera at Ellie. She catches it in a swift movement.

“A camera?” She comments. “Wouldn’t be the first we found.”

“But it could be the first that works,” You reply. “C’mon, let’s try and turn it on.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, thoroughly believing the attempt would be futile. But she does what you say.

When a small flash of green blinks on one of the buttons, her eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” She mumbles.

“I told you!” You exclaim, getting back onto your feet. You join her and peer over her shoulder.

The quality isn’t the best, but it’s working. Ellie navigates the menu to see if there’s any memory on it. A small video plays, only for a few seconds, of a black screen.

“That’s it?” You question. “Anything else?”

She frowns, scrolling through but ultimately getting nowhere. “If that’s the case, there’s a shitton of storage left.”

You look at Ellie from the corner of your eye. She squints at you.

“What?”

You straighten your back, looking away in a dramatic fashion. “Nothing… totally nothing.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Seriously — what?”

You look up at her with a sly grin. She blankly stares, then shakes her head.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You don’t have to!” She hisses. “You’re such a fucking whore, I swear.”

You giggle at her reaction before sighing exasperatedly. “Okay, okay. Fine. Don’t make a porno with me, it’s fine.”

You begin heading for the door before Ellie clears her throat. You turn to look over at her.

She looks up at you through her lashes. “I mean… I didn’t say that I wouldn’t.”

The only thing that can be heard is the faint ticking from the face on your watch. You raise your eyebrows at the auburn-haired girl.

“Are you saying you will?”

She stumbles on her words. “I— Shouldn’t we at least wait ‘til we get back to Jackson?”

“Technically, we should.” You smirk. “But should we?”

Ellie’s face flushes. You walk up to her, taking her hands in yours as she watches you closely.

“C’mon.” You whisper, hooking your finger through her belt loop. “You’re not even the slightest bit curious to see what it’s like to fuck me on camera?”

Her face reddens even deeper as she looks over at the wall. When her eyes meet yours again, she gives you a stern look.

“If we get in trouble, it’s on you.”

“So… is that a yes?” You say. Ellie bites down on her lip, nodding.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You get on your knees, quickly pushing your hair back and out of your face.

“Don’t worry, Els. I’ll make it up to you real soon.”

“You fuckin’ better,” She whispers.

As you unbutton her pants, Ellie struggles to get the camera on the right setting. It’s hard for her to think straight.

“How the fuck do I even work this thing?”

“You were doing it just fine a moment ago,” You comment.

“Yeah, well… wasn’t bout to get laid a moment ago. Mind’s foggy.” She huffs. “Ah, there we go.”

She wipes the lens on the bottom of her shirt before pressing record. You look up at her, smiling.

“Wanna tell them what we’re doing, Els?” You ask coyly, looking between her and the camera.

“T-Them?” She stutters. “Wait, we’re sharing this?”

“No,” You giggle. “Well, unless you want to.”

Ellie’s silent, distracted by your actions. You place a small peck above her pantyline. “C’mon, babe.”

“Okay, okay,” She sighs. “Uh… this is Ellie and Y/N. About to… fuck… on morning patrol. Totally not my idea to do this on the job, by the way.”

You flick her thigh.

“Ouch!” She whines. “Gosh. As you can see… my girlfriend is very, very naughty.”

“Mm, how so?” You press, tugging down on her underwear.

“Do I have to narrate everything?” She moans. “I… I can’t think straight like this.”

“You’re so cute,” You comment. “Alright, fine. Just hold the camera still.”

Ellie does as you say, stabilizing the camera with one hand and placing the other behind your head. Her fingers entangle themselves in your hair as you take the first lick, running your tongue up her folds.

“Mm,” You breathe against her skin. “For someone with no intentions of doing this, you sure are wet…”

“Shut up,” She groans, tightening her grip on your hair. “Not my fault. Your ass was basically swallowing your jeans.”

You hum in delight, dragging your tongue back and forth along her slit. She folds her bottom lip under her teeth, hands slightly shaking from anticipation.

You bring your eyes back up to the camera as you engulf her clit into your mouth. She hisses, her mouth watering, desperately trying to hold onto the camera when all she wants to do is pull you up and bend you over.

“Fuck,” She grunts, dropping her other hand from your hair and bringing it around to cup your face. You moan against her touch, continuing to lick and suck on her swollen bud.

“Shit,” She murmurs. “Fuck yeah, right there.”

She watches you closely through the lens, becoming wetter at the mere sight of you on a pixelated screen.

You’re such a slut for doing this, she thinks. Making her film you while you pleasure her, while you worship her cunt. For encapsulating this moment into a camera you found mere minutes ago. And on patrol, no less.

“Taste so good, Els.” You mumble after pulling away to catch your breath. “So sweet.”

“Yeah?” She purrs. “Stick your tongue out, lemme see.”

You obey her command, and she has to stop herself from letting her eyes roll into the back of her head.

It was so slutty, the way her juices coated your tongue in a translucent shimmer. Her green eyes bore into yours as she puts her thumb in your mouth, watching as you lick and suck on it.

The sensation alone sends zaps right to her cunt, which was practically dripping. You brought your hand out to it and delicately spread her pussy lips apart.

“Such a good girl for me,” She murmurs, watching you intently. You look up innocently at her as you insert one finger, then two.

Ellie groans in response, clenching onto the camera as her pussy clenches onto your fingers.

“So tight,” You whisper, taking a second to let her warm up to the feeling before pushing deeper inside. “And warm.”

After a few strokes back and forth, you began picking up the pace. She was squelching around your fingers — filthy, she thinks, such a filthy sound — and she was nearly seeing stars.

“Goddamn,” She mutters, tempted to grind against your touch, but opting to capture you in your essence instead. She brings the camera down a little more, so it’s lined up perfectly. You take notice; looking at the lens while you begin sucking on her cunt yet again, your fingers still pumping.

Ellie wants to speak, but can’t even form coherent words. Instead, she drawls into guttural, breathy moans as she copes with the stimulation. She was practically losing her mind from this, and eventually, her steady hold on the camera dwindles.

“Baby,” She winces, looking down at you. “Babe— fuck— I’m so fuckin’ close.”

You nod your head, lips still attached to her cunt as you continue fingering her harshly. She sighs, throwing her head back.

“God, fuck,” She hisses. “Just like that, princess. Fuck! Make me fuckin’ cum.”

It was hard to hear the obscenities she was grunting out when she was so wet, but you moaned against her nonetheless. It wasn’t often you got to see Ellie let herself go; seeing her get to that point was almost rewarding.

The orgasm that ripples through her body is strong. Her mouth is agape, eyes clenched tight as she comes undone. The look on her face is almost painful, but you know it’s not — it just took a lot out of her.

When she comes down from her high, she blinks a few times, trying to combat her blurry vision. She pants, palms clammy around the camcorder as she looks at you. You were wiping your mouth off and sucking your fingers clean.

“How was it?” You asked innocently. Her gaze becomes concentrated, like a switch, and she tilts her head towards the bed.

“Fuckin’ amazing,” She huffs. “Your turn.”

You become slightly shy at the proposal. “What? B-But—“

“No but’s,” She replies. “C’mon, ass up.”

You blush. You had assumed that once you got her off, she’d be ready to go back to Jackson, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

So you do as she says, peeling your pants off before climbing onto the bed on all fours.

“What, you don’t have anything else to say?” She asks, switching the camera to her other hand. She places a hard slap on your ass, and you moan.

“Hard to speak when you’re the receiver, huh?”

You bite your lip as she aims the camera to get a full view of your ass. Her thumb pushes into you easily, thanks to the accumulation of slick that gathered at your core. Your cheeks warm at her movements.

“C’mon, baby.” She says. “Tell them what I’m doing.”

“We— We’re—“

Another slap, right on your ass.

“Speak up.”

“I— Ellie’s touching me,” You murmur.

“How?” She whispers. “How am I touching you?”

“Fingering me…” You add. “Ellie’s fingering my pussy.”

“And what a sweet fuckin’ pussy you have.” She grunts. “Turn over, lay on your back.”

Once your back hits the bed, Ellie straddles you almost immediately. You’re met with the camera lens once again.

“Look at that face,” She smirks. “So fuckin’ hot.”

She pushes her index and middle finger inside of you, making sure to catch what she’s doing on film. Meanwhile, outside of the frame, you’re scrunching your eyebrows up in pleasure.

Ellie was ruthless. She knew your hot spots, and practically abused that knowledge. She knew how to make you cum, and how to make you cum quick. You were kneading at your tits in an attempt to absolve the overstimulation.

“E-Els,” You whine, grinding up against her hand.

She doesn’t say anything, so set on the way your pussy looks around your fingers. You mewl.

“Ellie,” You moan.

“Hm?” She says, looking up at you. “What, gonna cum already?”

You nod, teary-eyed, toes clenching at the edge of the bed.

“Look at the camera and say it.” She whispers.

“G-Gonna—“

“Who?” She cuts you off. “C’mon, use your words… who’s makin’ you cum?”

“You, Ellie,” You breathe out, using your hands to pull at the bedsheets behind your head. “Ellie’s gonna, fuck, Ellie’s makin’ me cum.”

“Atta girl,” She murmurs. “Good girl.”

You moan, rocking your hips gently in an attempt to gain more friction against her hand. Your orgasm comes rather quickly, and has you whining and pulsing hard around her fingers.

Ellie makes sure to catch your o-face on camera; if by some miracle this camera turns on again later, she would need that content for lonely nights.

“There you go,” She says quietly, taking one last full-view shot of your body before shutting the camera off. She tosses it over into the pillows and leans down into you.

“My god,” You moan as Ellie presses several kisses against your breasts. She looks up at you, placing a final kiss against your lips, making you smile.

“See?” You whisper after a moment. “I told you it’d be fun.”

She nods meekly, raising her eyebrows. “I… didn’t think I’d enjoy it that much. Was definitely worth it.”

You look up at the ceiling as she rolls over to the side. She begins pulling her clothes on.

“Babe?” She says, looking over at you.

“I know I kinda fucked the shit outta you just now, but we should really head back. Y’know, if we don’t wanna get our asses chewed.”

You groan in response. She chuckles.

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you five minutes to get cleaned up. Meet me out front, okay?”

You grin, rubbing your eyes. “Okay.”

Ellie leaves a few seconds later. And when you go to reach for the camera, you realize she took it, with the rest of her belongings.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 fanfic #kinktober 2023

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imfoive · 2 months ago

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Trophy Husband - Chapter 3

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW (mdni) Warnings: mentions of extramarital affairs, implied masturbation, cursing, drinking, physical violence, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.4k A/N: We're really getting into this story oof, I was so excited to share this chapter! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3 ───────────────────

Hyunjin had momentarily forgotten that, despite finding a peculiar sense of belonging in his… unconventional marriage, not everyone would suddenly see him in a new light.

The labels that had followed him since his teenage years weren’t so easily erased.

Especially seeing these young women flocking around him, their lashes fluttering, lips curling into smiles he would have once indulged in. Perhaps just to pass the time. It was then he realized, his reputation still clung to him.

His eyes swept across the room and locked onto his wife, Y/N. The woman he was supposedly in love with. The supposed emotions these women surrounding him were clearly aware of, yet seemed to disregard, as they shamelessly flirted with him. Their fingers brushed his arm, their laughter filled the space between, swatting at him playfully as they giggled at his remarks that weren’t truly all that amusing.

Their presence here made sense, though.

Who would truly believe that a womanizer like himself had finally been tamed?

Such stories weren’t common in their circle, everyone always falling back into their old habits. Maybe they expected it from him. These women, drawn to him even more so because he was suddenly “off-limits”. If it was some other day, he would have been amused, he would have flirted back.

If it was even the day before his wife had suddenly opened his eyes to emotions he didn’t know he had, he would have humored all these fake personalities.

But tonight, his gaze was fixed elsewhere. It lingered on Y/N, who stood with their mothers and a growing circle of friends, reintroduced to her over the course of the evening.

They were at a small gathering, though small was an understatement because everyone seemed to be here. His father had thrown this celebration for a business success and, as an afterthought, to celebrate the newlyweds. Even though it had been months since the wedding, they were still treated as if they had just tied the knot. Maybe that was just an excuse to make sure his cunning wife would show up, despite knowing she’d find a way to slither out of attending otherwise.

“—Does Y/N really meet your expectations?”

The question snapped Hyunjin back to a conversation he hadn’t been paying any particular attention to. His eyes flicked to the woman who had asked it, now standing just an arm’s length away.

He didn’t realize the group of women that had surrounded him had shrunk. Either they’d grown tired of his indifference or given up trying to compete for his attention. Though, Hyunjin guessed it was the absence of his usually flirtatious, usually charming persona that drove them away.

All but this woman. She was someone he recognized from his circle of friends, but one he’d never taken the time to get to know. It wasn’t her lone presence that caught him off guard. Rather, it was the ridiculousness of whatever she had just asked that made him blink in surprise.

He knew what she was insinuating. With her sultry tone and the curve of her lips that pulled into a smirk, he knew what she meant. As if she had convinced herself that he was going to find the next empty room and have his way with her.

It wasn’t uncommon. Affairs, mistresses, extramarital flings. Secrets kept under wraps, usually existing between couples who were nothing more than a business arrangement.

And even if his marriage was basically that. It was different. The marriage between Hwang Hyunjin and Y/N Yeom was dripping with romantic tales no one expected from him. He had settled down for her, a true romeo that was rare in their elite class.

Even if all of it was a ruse. A made-up story that was carved into stone to make it the truth.

Yet here she stood, the daughter of some other high-class entrepreneur that Hyunjin never cared enough to memorize, suggesting he undo the months of character development he had curated. As if he was such a loose man that he would easily be tempted by a pretty face and seductive eyes.

Hyunjin lowered his gaze to hide the annoyance that flickered in his eyes before looking up at her again.

“You must think of me as a joke.” His words came out sharper than intended, though deep down he knew he meant it.

For a moment her expression faltered, confused by his reaction. Confused as to why he was the one acting different. As if her question hadn’t disrespected his sham marriage, her touch on his arm hadn’t crossed a line.

Before Hyunjin could say anything further, or before she could continue her advances, a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, breaking the tension.

“There you are.” His brother’s voice came out smoothly, his actions even smoother as he picked up a flute of champagne from one of the servers passing by, handing it over to the young woman that stood before them.

“You look like you need a refill.” He chuckled, glancing at her empty glass.

Her attention immediately shifted. The stunned expression on her face melted as she turned toward the older Hwang brother.

It was a common occurrence between the brothers. When Hwang Hyunsoo entered the room, everyone would instantly fall into his orbit. There was a charm about him that drew you close. A few simple words, a smile that easily captured whoever he was surrounded by.

Maybe being a smooth-talker was a familial trait, seeing that both Hwangs were exceptional at it. However, right now, Hyunjin furrowed his brows with confusion anew, wondering why he was relieved that his brother had decided to intrude with his presence.

“Your wife is looking for you.” Hyunsoo chuckled, patting lightly at the younger brother’s arm.

The taller, younger brother’s eyes darted over Hyunsoo’s shoulder, settling on the form of his wife he had been stealing glimpses of. He was slightly surprised she was asking about him. Usually in such events, Y/N Yeom did not even spare a glance toward Hyunjin or the direction of the cliques he stood amongst.

Although all those times in the past, they weren’t a couple, their names not attached to one another.

Hyunjin nodded, sparing a final glance toward the woman who stood between them.

As the trophy husband approached Y/N and the new group she was standing with, his arm naturally slid around her waist. He felt her tense immediately at the contact, but he only tightened his grip slightly, a satisfied smile curling on his lips as his gaze flicked to the two men she was conversing with. He noticed the surprised glance Y/N shot toward him. Probably more from the suddenness of his approach than anything else.

“Good evening gentlemen.” Hyunjin greeted the two men he too had been acquainted with.

The conversation flowed with ease, but even amidst the small talk, Hyunjin’s attention remained on Y/N. Rather at her form that relaxed against him, and the feel of her in his arms suddenly became his sole focus. He was slightly overwhelmed, trying to juggle the chatter around him while being keenly aware of her body pressed against his.

Y/N, for her part, could feel the quick hammering of Hyunjin’s heart against her back. She tilted her head slightly, studying the furrow in his brow as he listened to the men’s banter. He seemed bothered, and she easily assumed it was the business talk that was frustrating him. But of course, the thoughts swirling in his mind were far from anything related to business.

“If you gentlemen will excuse us, we’re going to make our rounds to the other end of the hall.” Y/N politely excused, her social smile radiating under the bright lights.

Hyunjin gave a slight nod in acknowledgment as they made their way through the crowd, greeting even more acquaintances as they passed. It wasn’t until they exchanged forced pleasantries with a third businessman that Hyunjin sighed with slight frustration, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the balcony doors.

“This way.” His fingers naturally gripped at her wrist, tugging with a slight urgency, trying to avoid getting stopped yet again.

The fresh evening air was a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the event halls. They stepped onto the balcony, and Hyunjin quietly closed the door behind them. Y/N leaned against the stone railing, gazing out over the dark, sprawling gardens. She exhaled deeply, the cool breeze ruffling her hair.

“Damn, should’ve grabbed some drinks on the way.” Hyunjin commented, casually tossing his dark blazer around her shoulders to protect her from the evening chill.

An action that doesn’t even phase his wife. As if she was used to it. Y/N glanced at him as he mirrored her stance, his back resting against the railing.

“Feeling better?” He asked, his voice casual.

Except his question made her furrow her brows in confusion.

“Didn’t you need the breath of fresh air?”

Hyunjin blinked, slightly taken aback by her question

“No…I thought you did. Isn’t that why you lied about greeting other people back there?” He tilted his head, a note of his own confusion in his voice.

“—Wasn’t it because you needed to talk to me?” He added.

Y/N straightened, glancing over his puzzled expression, raising an eyebrow.

“I lied because you came to me, didn’t you need to speak to me?”

“You’re the one who called me!” Hyunjin exclaimed, head slightly reeling from the circles their conversation was going in.

“And why would I call you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow.

The dark-haired man was going to argue that his brother had told him so. But then it hit him.

His brother lied.

Hwang Hyunsoo had given him an excuse to leave before he said something harsh to that young lady back there. The older brother was yet again, saving him from embarrassing himself.

Hyunjin sighed, his shoulders dropping as he released the tension in his posture.

“God, I have a headache.” He muttered under his breath instead, though Y/N didn’t seem to hear him. She scoffed.

“And besides, you seemed busy entertaining those women back there, I wouldn’t have called even if I wanted.” She shot him a glance.

“Must’ve been a real pain to tear yourself away and come find me.”

Her words were meant as a jab, but instead of feeling offended, Hyunjin couldn’t suppress the smug grin that tugged at his lips. The supposed headache he was getting, was suddenly forgotten.

“You’ve been watching me?” His smile widened, his amusement evident.

“I had to. Every time some girl threw herself at you, my mother was breathing down my neck, telling me to keep you in check.” Y/N rolled her eyes in response, annoyed all over again.

Hyunjin chuckled, the tension between them easing.

“I’ll duck the next time some girl throws herself at me then.” His eyes crinkled with his laughter.

His stupid answer only made her groan, unamused as she rolled her eyes again.

The silence settled between them as his laughter died down, eyes following hers to peer over the railing and watch the darkness before them.

The trophy husband suddenly glanced over at her with a fondness that was quickly becoming impossible to suppress. Watching as she pulled his blazer tighter around her body, the evening chill brought goosebumps and slight shivers.

Yet, as the two of them looked out to the night sky, it felt blissful.

────────────────────────

Y/N Yeom might have eased around Hyunjin, comfortable in the titles of “husband and wife”, considering him as business-partner, perhaps a friend even, in their strange dynamic, but that didn’t change how others viewed him. And he had gotten a taste of it that evening of his father’s party.

The trophy husband had been so preoccupied with following Y/N’s advice, avoiding his father-in-law, dodging the old man’s request for a “friendly chat”, that he’d almost overlooked her insufferable cousin.

The same cousin who apparently lived in the same complex as them, which Hyunjin wasn’t aware of until he was standing in the lobby in the cousin’s presence. The air between them, already hostile.

The last time Hyunjin had seen him was at that same party a few weeks back. Although they exchanged brief greetings, it was clear that Y/N despised him and didn’t let them linger in his presence longer than needed.

He could see why she didn’t like him.

Alex Yeom had always been a smug asshole. He made questionable choices behind closed doors but was a good businessman. If people knew about his unsavory habits, they’d undoubtedly prefer the new Yeom son-in-law over him.

But Hyunjin did not care. He wasn’t interested in any of that.

Now, as Alex eyed him with something devious clearly brewing in his mind, Hyunjin stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to appear indifferent.

“I thought Y/N would’ve put you on a leash by now. But seeing you wandering around idly, I guess even she’s failed at that.” Alex said with a mocking laugh that already grated on Hyunjin’s nerves.

But he stayed silent, keeping himself calm. And seeing that the remark had no effect on Hyunjin who stood nonchalant, the cousin continued to retort with nonsense.

“Must be nice, freeloading off your wife?” Alex sneered, shaking his head as he recalled the women who surrounded his new brother-in-law the last time they met.

“You get to play your part of the playboy while you're at it too. I’d say you’re living up to your reputation. And they told me to worry about you.” He was openly laughing now, a bitterness in his words.

Hyunjin’s lips barely twitched. But he kept himself composed. He was no stranger to insults, most of them came from his own family anyways.

But here stood this fool, spewing out hollow jabs in efforts to get a rise out of him.

Instead, the new cousin-in-law kept his hands in his pockets, but his posture was tight. Every muscle in his body wound up like a spring. A part of him nudged to retaliate, but he remained still. Alex’s mocking words scraped at his nerves, but he wouldn't let this idiot see it.

At least he had that in common with Y/N.

Instead, Hyunjin sighed, his mouth opening to deliver a bored “sure” or something equally dismissive, anything to make the incessant chatter stop.

Yet even before the words could leave his lips, a sharp, resonant thud shattered the fragile tension in the lobby. Y/N’s form had almost flown between them, her face contorted with a mix of anger and a glint of something else. Without a word, her leg snapped up in one swift motion, landing a hard, kick to Alex’s shin.

An action that made Hyunjin flinch, while Alex let out a sharp hiss. The younger cousin’s eyes immediately widened in shock, and he let out a pained groan, hopping on one foot as he clutched his leg.

“What the fuck—” He began, but Y/N cut him off with a sharp, icy glare.

“Oh? Was it you, Alex? I thought a dog had snuck in, given all the barking I was hearing.” She said, her voice dripping with feigned surprise.

Hyunjin blinked, caught off guard—not only by her sudden appearance, but by the violence of her actions.

This was a side of Y/N he had never seen before. An unexpected side.

Cold. Uncompromising.

Alex staggered back, rubbing his shin as he glared at her.

“H-how can you do this out in the open?” He grunted, his eyes flicking nervously toward a stunned Hyunjin and then around to the few residents that watched the scene unfold.

“Well, you were being loudly disrespectful to my husband, weren’t you? Where’s your manners? I’m sure your mother had taught them to you.” Y/N retorted, shrugging nonchalantly as if the stares of others didn’t bother her at all.

Her words hung in the air like a slap. Alex opened his mouth to protest, the younger cousin falling silent as he realized his response would perhaps lead to nothing but his further humiliation.

Y/N turned her attention back to Hyunjin, her gaze softening but her grip on his wrist tight. It was then that Hyunjin noticed the firm hold she had on him. Something he hadn’t even realized until now.

“Let’s go.” Her tone was calm, yet the tug she had on his arm, not waiting for an answer as she led him away, gave way to her anger.

Hyunjin’s legs seemed to move on their own. Unable to find the words to respond with, simply allowing himself to be pulled along.

His eyes raked over her form. Resolute, frustrated.

Fascinating.

This was Y/N, the woman who had always been so poised, so controlled... but in this moment, she was something else entirely.

Suddenly he felt his cheeks tinge.

In the car, Y/N’s frustration was evident, a string of curses escaping her lips.

“Who the hell does he think he is? That asshole only knows how to run his mouth and nothing else.” She muttered, her eyes focused on the road.

The dark-haired man watched her in silence, a mix of admiration and bewilderment settling in.

“I should’ve punched him instead and wiped that smug look off his face.” She turned to look at the quiet man in the next seat.

“—And you! You should’ve said something, how could you just stand there?!” Y/N snapped, her anger still simmering.

Hyunjin remained silent, stunned all over again as she directed her frustrations towards at him. Unable to quite understand why she was upset with him now.

Minutes passed, and by the time they stopped at the next light, Y/N seemed to have calmed down. She huffed for what felt like an eternity, only to glance over at him again, surprise slowly creeping across her face.

“Wait… where were we even headed?” She asked, glancing around as if she had lost track of their destination, which, in reality, she probably didn’t have one to begin with.

There was a split-second of silence before Hyunjin let out a sudden, uncontrollable laugh. One he had been holding back ever since she had shoved him into the passenger seat.

“I would say… towards the gallery?” He suggested between his chuckles, recognizing the familiar streets around them.

Y/N groaned, the last of her frustration giving way to amusement.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She muttered, shaking her head as she continued to drive.

He only could let out another laugh, shrugging.

He wasn’t sure either.

Why was he rendered speechless ever since she arrived back then. Only watching as cursed her cousin, as she scolded him.

It was more sides of Y/N that he had uncovered.

Protective, fiery, and unafraid to speak her mind.

Hyunjin had always known she was aggressively proud and protective of the people and things she cared about. He wasn’t surprised she had those qualities.

But he hadn’t realized that it extended to him as well.

That he was also a part of her things, a part of her people.

And what Alex had said wasn’t entirely wrong.

Hyunjin had been drifting through life, moving from one thing to the next with no real purpose. But even as his mind tried to process everything that had happened, the warmth of Y/N’s fingers lingering on his wrist brought him a sense of…belonging.

A sense of comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

That phantom touch, still hot against his skin, stirred that weird sensation inside him again, a feeling he couldn’t ignore. It had been there ever since she’d complimented his cooking, a quiet warmth he was starting to recognize... and not one he was ready to let go of.

Like the searing grasp that still seemed to burn on his wrist, lingering long after they had forgotten all about Alex and the nonsense he’d spewed, the questions of why Hyunjin was suddenly feeling this way continued to haunt him.

But, it wasn’t just the touch that tug at his thoughts, it was everything.

When he found himself trailing after her, his heart lifting at the familiar sound of the apartment door opening and she entered. When he would chatter over dinner, watching as she ate with carefree gusto, her compliments flowing freely over whatever he had thrown together.

There was a strange warmth in these moments. Something that felt like it had been awakened in him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. It was as if something inside him was getting ready to burst, but even as he recognized the shift, he was still unsure how to label any of it.

What he did know, however, was that he enjoyed being by her side more than he had ever expected.

The gallery director’s husband, that future version of himself who would eventually have the answers, would figure out the specifics later. For now, Hyunjin was content just to be the one who received her genuine laughter, the sound of it filling him with an inexplicable warmth. He loved how her jokes, always blunt and sometimes a little too honest, would make him stifle his laughter, a quiet amusement settling in his chest.

And then there were the softer moments.

The sight of her curled under the blankets, her hair a mess, traces of sleep clinging to her face. A look that Hyunjin suddenly found more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

Even prettier than those actresses. Those models that he had once thought were so.

But the questions still fluttered, just beneath the surface.

A part of him was aware of the growing attachment, the pull he couldn’t ignore.

While another part, a quieter, more cautious part, waited for a sign.

And a sign seemed to come easily to him.

Especially when the playboy husband found his eyes trailing over Y/N more often than he ever cared to admit. It was in those moments that he found his sign.

The one he had given himself without even realizing it.

The business couple was preparing for yet another event, hosted by an business acquaintance of hers.

Hyunjin stood in the doorway, watching her get ready, his figure leaning casually against the frame. His gaze wandered over her as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Her eyes darted over to the reflection of his figure behind her.

“I’m surprised you got ready first.” Y/N mused, with a soft laugh, glancing at him as she adjusted her lipstick.

Hyunjin chuckled, his lips curving into a smile. He dropped his head, ready to respond with something snarky perhaps. Something that would catch her off guard, make her falter as she applied her lip gloss.

He could already picture her narrowing her brows, throwing him a mock glare, and then muttering something that would set him off into laughter.

Something that would usually happen in these situations.

But the words never came.

As he gazed at her reflection, something stopped him.

The gallery director’s husband caught a glimpse of himself, lounging against the door-frame. His body had been poised in that position for the past half hour, watching her with quiet intensity.

But now, as he saw himself in the mirror, it hit him.

All the answers to the questions that had been gnawing at him.

Those badgering thoughts that surged through him late at nights when he was heavily aware of her form next to him, chest heaving up and down, breathing softly, deeper into her slumber.

The thoughts that would poke at his mind whenever he found himself following her every move, his eyes lingering a moment too long on her.

He stared at his reflection, his gaze locked with his own, and for the first time, it was all too clear.

The look in his eyes was far too familiar.

He’s seen them plenty of times. Plenty of glimpses of it, ones that had often brought a smug smile to his lips. Smiles that parted as he leaned in to whisper sweet, empty, words.

It was the look that women gave him.

The gleam in their eyes, the wide smiles, the soft blush on their cheeks.

It was desire.

It was attraction.

It was infatuation.

Hyunjin stilled against the door-frame. His entire body suddenly relaxed as he realized.

What did a playboy perhaps in love turn into?

A lunatic.

Because the playboy soon found himself doing things that felt... out of character.

His sleep-hazed eyes would follow her every movement as she hauled herself out of bed at ungodly hours. Times that Hyunjin was still not used to waking, yet still stirred from his sleep.

He had always hated mornings.

Hated the way the sun would already be shining bright for no reason at all.

Yet, there he was, brewing a pot of coffee, a quiet habit he had started for no other reason than the fact that he noticed she liked it prepared before she headed out. And each morning, when she stepped out of the bathroom, still half-dazed from sleep, she would blink in surprise at the sight of his groggy, hunched figure standing by the counter. It had been weeks since he began this routine, but her surprise still hadn’t worn off.

“How can someone sleep with all the noise you make?” He’d mutter, offering the same lame excuse he always did.

But it was a lie.

Hwang Hyunjin couldn’t tell her that he was slowly weaving himself into her routine. That he was positioning himself to become a fixture in her life. To make her so accustomed to having him there, make her rely on him for small, mundane things like making coffee.

He couldn’t tell her that he had started catching feelings for her, his wife.

Tell her how undeniably attracted he was to her, his wife.

She’d laugh in his face. He was sure of it.

And though the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He found himself still doing things he never would have imagined before, things he thought might bring a smile to her face.

Things that betrayed his playboy reputation.

Things that the old Hwang Hyunjin would have scoffed at, would laugh in disbelief of his current self’s antics.

The second Hwang son had always been the type to accept whatever life threw at him. His status, his place within his family. Though they had all fallen into place because he hadn’t bothered to prevent them, hadn’t cared enough to even attempt to challenge them. Deep down, he knew it all came back to his own bad choices.

And now, here he was, caught in yet another predicament. One he’d accepted just as easily, though this one hadn’t been a result of his choices.

Or maybe it was.

Maybe when he had stepped into that bridal room, drawn in by the panic in her eyes, he had already made his choice.

Maybe when he had locked the door behind him, rushing to her side to calm her, to soothe that clench in his chest, he had sealed his fate.

Now, he sat there, a fool, quietly acknowledging the fact that he was infatuated with his wife. Y/N, who, clearly, didn’t feel the same.

It was almost laughable. Ironic, really.

The playboy, the playboy, had developed a crush.

And it was one he couldn’t chase with his charms or good looks.

Hwang Hyunjin had truly fallen for the ambitious gallery director.

Who wouldn’t?

Just look at her.

And, of course, he looked.

His gaze lingering, tracing. Shamelessly ogling the one woman who was suddenly off limits.

Y/N, his wife.

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There had been a quiet shift somewhere along the way.

The self-proclaimed workaholic had noticed it easily, even though she wasn’t usually the type to catch such things so quickly.

Y/N Yeom had always immersed herself in her passions. In her brand and her business. And though it might seem like it, that she had no time for any of it, she wasn’t entirely clueless when it came to men, having had her share of boyfriends over the years. But most of those relationships had ended for one reason.

She was too focused on her work.

There was nothing “girlfriend-worthy” about her.

Even if the gallery director had thick skin, never letting those words dig deep enough to prick her, they still left her with an uneasy sense of…imperfection.

Y/N was ambitious, there was no doubt there. And even if she might not have been the “perfect daughter,” she liked to think she came close, compared to other high-class children at least. As a businesswoman, she was near flawless, her gallery thriving and her career booming.

She had dreamed of being the perfect wife too, once.

But that dream faded when her eyes were opened.

She had long since given up on that goal.

Even so, Y/N apparently wasn’t perfect in the eyes of the men she’d dated. At least, not the “perfect lover” they wanted.

And that’s what irked her, slightly.

If she couldn’t be a perfect lover, she knew for sure that becoming a perfect wife was out of question.

Besides the way her wedding, her marriage had all happened, it was all far from what one would call perfect.

Not that she ever wanted to be the “perfect wife” to Hwang Hyunjin of all people.

The man’s reputation had long preceded him, and Y/N was sure he would drive her mad. She had already imagined herself holed up in her office. Taking solace there to escape her trophy husband’s playboy tendencies. Ready to either kill him or shoot herself from the headaches he would give her.

But the soft pats of his hand against her back, had shattered all that.

He had done something so unexpected, those less-than expectations that had clouded her mind ever since she agreed to marry him, seemed to have faded.

“Breathe…”

His tone had been soft, soothing, yet enough to pull her out of the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

When he kissed her, she should have been angry. She should’ve been furious that he’d pulled such a “Hyunjin stunt.” But somehow, those feelings evaded her. Instead, she felt an odd sense of gratitude. The press of his lips against hers brought her back to reality. Back to her supposed perfect love story, one where she could at least pretend to be the perfect wife.

She had expected more of those.

More of those moments for her to pretend to be the perfect wife.

More of the kisses.

Although she swore it wasn’t because she liked seeing the shocked expression in his eyes when she kissed him back, she knew her competitiveness had played a role.

But the kisses never came.

Hwang Hyunjin, the playboy, had never once tried anything with his supposed wife.

Maybe she should have been grateful for that. It crossed off one worry from the list of things that could give her a headache.

It was still strange. Seeing all these sides of Hyunjin she hadn’t thought existed.

For so long, Y/N had believed him to be nothing more than the pretentious second son of the Hwang empire.

A narcissist, lazy and indulgent, with little ambition beyond lounging around.

But maybe she had judged him too harshly. Maybe her assumptions were fueled by her own bitterness, by the nagging belief that her father had screwed her over.

Her mind wandered back to their wedding day. Back to his figure leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on her as the makeup artist scrambled to fix the disaster that had become her face. Hyunjin had watched with an intensity, eyes full of… concern, was it?

Yet, she didn’t find his presence there odd.

And here she was now watching him intently.

Her eyes raked over his figure, studying him from across the room, his figure sprawled across the long sofa he’d picked out, while she sat on the floor, surrounded by her work.

Y/N had a habit of unloading everything onto the living room table. Her papers, files, and her laptop all strewn about. With her back pressed against the smaller sofa, she typed away like a machine.

It was always just her and her work.

Quiet. Lonesome.

But now, even in this silence, even as she focused on the screen in front of her, her eyes would flicker over to him. Hyunjin was in his own little world, oblivious to her gaze, but something about the way he existed in this quiet room, it didn’t feel lonesome at all.

His presence here, anything but odd.

Y/N was honestly surprised to find Hyunjin here at this hour. By now, she had grown used to his late-night disappearances. His notorious escapades and parties. Yet, somewhere along the way, even those late-night adventures had become a rare occurrence.

The first time she came home to find him lounging on the sofa, feet kicked up on the table, watching a cooking show, she had been a little stunned. It wasn’t at all what she expected from the playboy she thought she knew. But somehow, over time, it had just become a new normal.

And these days, instead of disappearing into the night, he had developed an unexpected habit of evening reading.

The thought of it still made her laugh.

Y/N would often find herself watching him in quiet fascination as his fingers turned the pages of whatever novel he was engrossed in. It was always the same book. One he was still working through. One she had noticed just a few days ago.

She’d sometimes do a double-take, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining the scene.

And then, during particularly gripping parts of the story, he’d gasp, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at her, eager to share the latest twist.

He would wait. For her to sigh and ask and suddenly his words would surge out. He would eagerly break down what he had read, passionate rambles about characters and plotlines she barely knew.

Oddly enough, Y/N didn’t mind listening to his random recaps, even when they pulled her away from whatever she was doing.

For Y/N, distractions usually grated on her nerves. Yet, there was something undeniably charming about Hyunjin’s excitement.

The sparkle in his eyes when he talked about the latest plot twist or character development was…captivating. It reminded her of the same glimmer she saw when he engaged in the most mundane activities. The ones that brought him joy she assumed, whether it was playing computer games, watering the plants on the balcony while humming some off-key tune, or even just lounging around in the quiet.

She had noticed it. And she wasn’t sure exactly when it had started catching her attention.

But one thing was certain. Y/N didn’t hate it at all.

She had thought they would be just fine. Her initial worry about having to “babysit” in the pretense of marriage. About reforming the second Hwang, the screw-up of a son, had begun to melt away.

Y/N had almost forgotten about the playboy’s nature.

Almost.

As she walked into the quiet house one evening, she immediately noticed that Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen in the living room that he loved lazing around in at this time. Her eyes swooped over the dim livingroom, settling on the coffee table. He was always the one cleaning up the mess she’d left behind on it the night prior, only for her to undo it all again. It had become a cycle of his complaining as he tidied, but had never really stopped doing it.

Her eyes began to search the space instinctively, trying to locate him.

It was a rare weekday evening when Y/N returned home earlier than usual. Typically, the workaholic in her stayed late into the night, but lately, she had been working tirelessly to get ahead so she could enjoy some free time without guilt.

Recently, the gallery director had started feeling a pang of remorse. Hyunjin was always waiting for her, no matter how late she came home or how much she told him not to.

It was strange how things had shifted over the past few months. Where once they had coexisted like mere roommates, now it felt more like they were friends. Hyunjin’s goofy laughter, his carefree nature, was starting to grow on the usually overbearing gallery director.

A breath of fresh air in her hectic life.

But as she walked down the corridor of their apartment, her steps faltered. The distant sounds coming from the bedroom caught her attention.

A string of groans and grunts. His strained whispers, muttered curses, echoed in the stillness.

Lewd, unmistakable sounds that pointed to only one conclusion.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, the confusion quickly giving way to simmering anger as she reached out to grip the doorknob. Her mind instantly jumping back to her initial worries about him.

Hwang Hyunjin the playboy. The rake. The womanizer.

How dare he bring someone home? And to her bed, no less.

She had warned him.

She had made it crystal clear that if he ever did something as foolish as this, she’d make his life a living hell.

All men were the same, after all.

Her grip on the doorknob tightened, anger flooding her veins, her heart hammering in her chest.

But when she flung open the door and stood there, her knuckles white from gripping the doorknob, the scene before her was nothing like what she had anticipated. Her furrowed brows of anger rising as she took in whatever she burst into.

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, his cock in fist, sweat beading on his forehead.

The bathrobe he had on was undone and barely hanging onto his body. His body on full display as he looked up at her sudden figure with wide, stunned eyes, completely frozen by her unexpected intrusion.

“Shit—sorry!” She almost exclaimed, mortified words tumbling out before she could stop them.

In a flash, she spun around on her heels, yanking the door shut with a sharp slam.

Y/N stood rigidly in front of the now-closed door, eyes fixed on the ground, her cheeks burning with heat. She could hear him on the other side of the door, scrambling, probably more flustered than she was.

Yet, all her mind could do was replay the image she had just walked in on, over and over. And no matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, her mind kept replaying the image she had intruded onto. Of Hyunjin, sitting there, his bathrobe hanging open, looking caught in a moment he clearly didn’t expect.

His fingers wrapped around his erection.

She gulped, throat feeling dry. Her hands cupped her cheeks, feeling the heat surging over her skin, trying to calm her erratic heart from beating so freaking fast.

Boy, he was big after all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! (18+) - @jellyleggz, @binniesbabe, @bookswillfindyouaway, @lemonn015, @scarlet789, @onlyhyunjin @freekyfangirl, @candyquokka, @jehhskz, @stayjinnie, @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @kpopjackie, @rundontwalkshesaid, @sheerfreesia007, @thecutiepieme, @danihwang882, @hyunebunx, @seeeeking-skz, @velvetmoonlght, @alrm02, @tirena1, @cybergracie, @notevenheretbh1, @piscesrising01, @alisonyus, @hyuneyeon, @broken-glowsticks, @modesttiger, @gnabnahcbby, @hanniesdegree, @lenfilms, @sushiinmidnight, @chrisbangsass, @fixation-dump, @shhyucm, @suzyhhj, @d34thon2legs, @dessianna1, @hityoulikebahng, @tsunderelino, @minluvly, @hanadulsetaad [CLOSED]

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suntoru · 1 year ago

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─ ✰ BREWING AFFECTION.

✧˚ · . NAGI SEISHIRO loves sleeping, soccer, and gaming. he also doesn’t mind you coffee too.

— warnings: coffee shop! au, fluff, crackfic, reo hating on readers barista skills, downbad nagi (hes oblivious af), maybe ooc?

— author’s note: NOT TUMBLR BUTCHERING THE QUALITY OF MY HEADER. THIS IS NOT OK.

"…so… this was the coffee shop you were talking about?” reo probes nagi tentatively, face crinkled in slight confusion. the small café nestled in the hidden corner of some obscure street— nothing extravagant, and certainly not what he expected. it’s a quiet sanction, only a few patrons savoring the quiet ambience of the modest establishment.

"mhm," nagi hums in affirmation. his eyes are glued to his screen, fingers violently tapping his phone as he skillfully maneuvers through the critical attack from the boss battle. reo doubts he was listening to a word he was saying. he raises his eyebrows skeptically, surveying the surroundings of the quaint little shop. he’s well aware nagi sacrifices fifteen whole minutes of his precious sleep on wednesdays and saturdays to walk all the way here— there must, has to be something special about this place. yet all he can spot are a couple of worn-down couches, cute decorations, and the smell of grinding beans in the air; nothing particularly stands out.

'is the coffee just that good?' reo wonders to himself, his thoughts interrupted when you hastily set a tray down at their table. your hair is tied in a messy bun, name tag displayed largely at the side of your stained apron. "i'm so sorry— morning rush! two triple foam lattes, half a shot of espresso with a dash of cinnamon, right?" the words tumble out, an apology and a question all in one, accompanied by a warm aura that absolutely nobody else in customer service seemed to carry.

…that’s… not…. even close… he deadpans. “um, actually—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by nagi cutting him off. “t’s good. thanks.” he mutters, hazy half-lidded grey eyes boring into your oblivious, starry-eyed ones. the tips of his ears turn the slightest bit pink as he blows a tuft of his hair out of his eyes. his phone is completely discarded, ‘GAME OVER.’ pixelated largely on his screen as reo’s eyes widen slightly. …did he… die on purpose? no way. but… he was just about to beat the whole game…?

you smile giddily. finally, you got an order right!! “really? i’m so glad! enjoy your drink!” you eagerly exclaim as you walk away, feeling encouraged to pump out the other orders.

“…we ordered two large macchiatos.” nagi shrugs lazily, fiddling with the plastic straw in his drink. “tastes the same. ‘t’s too much of a hassle to correct them.”

“whatever,” reo sighs, “we’ve been waiting thirty minutes for this— it better make my mouth orgasm.” thirstily taking a huge slurp of the drink, he lets the coffee settle for a moment before not so subtly gagging at the aftertaste. how can someone possibly screw up this badly? it tastes like… tepid brown water. this should be a war crime. no offense, but who thought it was a good idea to hire you? “uhm… it’s *retches* certainly an acquired flavour…” he represses another gag as the fluffy white haired male tunes him out once again.

as reo contemplates the questionable quality of his latte, nagi remains blissfully unaware of his own feelings, doing what he does every wednesday and saturday morning— unconsciously admire you from a distance, his attention shifting from reo to you. his fingers idly trace the ridges on the rim of the cup, distractedly watching as you struggle to get the coffee to start brewing.

and he can’t exactly understand why his heart is beating out of his chest (perhaps he’s having a stroke), why his face is tinted red (is it the cold nipping at his cheeks?), or why he only seems to want coffee when you’re there (it simply tastes different). it all doesn’t make sense to nagi’s simple little life, a simple repetition every day; sleep, soccer, game.

nagi seishiro finds the easiest of tasks to be a hassle. yet for some strange reason, waking up early on wednesdays and saturdays isn’t one of them.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x y/n #nagi seishiro x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock #nagi fluff #bllk fluff #bllk drabbles #coffee shop! au

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joelalorian · 9 months ago

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Six: And I Knew My Heart Wasn't Mine

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling in love. Finally some smut-ish stuff. Dry humping on the couch. Joel is his own warning. Tommy keeping it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

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Chapter Five | Main Masterlist

Sitting at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, you reviewed an email on your phone from the Texas Education Agency. Relief washed over you. The State Board finally approved your certification after jumping through a million hoops, just in time for your upcoming meeting at Sarah’s school.

Yet another step closer to finally feeling like an actual adult contributing to society.

“Morning, Spud,” your dad greeted as he walked into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. “You’re up early. Did you have fun with Sarah yesterday?”

“I figured I’d seize the day and all that. I had a blast yesterday! Sarah is so smart, and Joel was really nice, as always,” you replied, playing down quite how much of a roll Joel had in making the day so enjoyable. You still couldn’t believe how things worked out.

Joel Miller, dead sexy single father, liked you, wanted to be with you. Little morsels of doubt tried to weasel their way into your mind, trying to make you question what was so special about you that a man like Joel would be interested in. You shook those thoughts away, resolving to believe that you deserved someone like him, someone who liked you for who you were and not who they wanted you to be.

“He comes from good stock, that Joel,” your dad interrupted you’re wandering thoughts. “Not sure what happened with Tommy, though. Musta been dropped on his head as a baby or somethin’.”

“Dad!” you laughed, shaking your head. “There’s nothing wrong with the guy. He’s young, single, and unburdened by responsibility. I imagine you were like that once upon a time.”

“Musta been so long ago I can’t remember,” he replied, hip checking you into the counter when you stood to place your glass in the sink. “Watch yourself there, Spud.”

“Jeez, thanks, Dad,” you replied with an amused eye roll. Your dad watched as you tidied up your little mess from breakfast and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You know, Spud. You’d do well to find a man like Joel. He’s a really good guy. Shame he doesn’t date. All the women go crazy over him.”

Your dad kept going on about Joel’s aversion to dating, but your mind froze on that one simple statement – you’d do well to find a man like Joel. You tuned back in just in time to hear him say, “He needs to settle down with a girl like you. Someone smart and responsible who’ll still give him a run for his money.”

Practically bursting with the urge to admit that you and Joel just officially started seeing each other, you curled your lips between your teeth and just nodded. You promised Joel you’d wait a bit before mentioning anything to your dad and you planned on keeping that promise. “He should be so lucky to find someone like me,” you sassed finally.

The day carried on as you spent some quality time with your dad watching TV and lounging around. It was refreshing and relaxing, reminding you of times past where the two of you spent a bunch of time together.

The urge to text you plagued Joel all day Sunday, distracting his attention from the football game until Tommy finally snatched the phone out of his hands and hid it.

“Enough, brother. You’re like a lovesick fool checking your phone every five fuckin’ seconds. You just spent the day together yesterday. Give her a little breathin’ room,” Tommy chastised. “Women like a little mystery after all.”

Flopping back into the couch cushions with a huff, Joel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t want to play games with her, Tommy. None of that aloof, hard to get bullshit.”

Shaking his head, Tommy waited until a commercial break to turn to his brother again. “I’m not sayin’ to play games. I’m just sayin’ you don’t need to be up her ass 24/7. You’ll see her every day this week. It’s ok to build up a little healthy anticipation today.”

Joel knew his brother had a point. He just couldn’t help himself. It’d been so long since he felt like this about someone – if he ever really did before – and it was messing with his head. Berating himself for not even kissing you yesterday, Joel wanted to at least text with you today. It felt somehow wrong to not talk to you.

Then again, you hadn’t texted him either.

Tommy made a valiant effort to distract Joel from his thoughts, talking statistics about the game and the players, anything to get the guy talking. It only worked for so long before Tommy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, how ‘bout this. I’ll take Sarah for a dinner and ice cream date tomorrow so you two can spend some time alone. Get a little action in and maybe that’ll help you get your head out of the clouds.”

For the first time in hours, Joel’s face lit up. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” Tommy replied. “You two need to figure out if there’s something there and you can’t do that with a ten-year-old hanging around all the time. Not unless you want to scar her for life.”

Joel nodded, reaching out to take his phone back. Before letting go of it, Tommy grinned. “I already texted her for you. You’re welcome.”

Ripping his phone out of his brother’s hand, Joel scrolled through his text messages to find what Tommy sent you.

JM: Hey sweetheart. Netflix and chill tomorrow?

He only knew what that meant because of Tommy and you had to know that wasn’t something Joel would say. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy!” Joel growled, his ears turning red from what you must think. He was about to really lay into his brother for overstepping when you responded.

You: Netflix and chill, huh? Sounds like my kinda date 😉

Not expecting that response, Joel chuckled. Maybe Tommy knew exactly what he was doing after all.

“Like I said, you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he saw the goofy smile on his brother’s face.

Joel ignored him, proceeding to ask you about your day. The two of you texted back and forth well into the night until it was time for bed.

Climbing between the cold sheets of his large, empty bed, Joel wished you were there with him. He could already imagine you there, falling asleep together after a romp or two, waking up next to you in the morning. It sounded like heaven to him.

Hmm, maybe he could Netflix and chill his way to convincing you to spend the night tomorrow.

You didn’t know what to expect when you walked into Joel’s house Monday morning, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered Joel, knelt on the floor, staring down at a mess of pancake mix surrounding him and Sarah giggling her little heart out at the breakfast table.

“What happened here?” you asked, hands on your hips and eyes surveying the damage. “Did you have a fight with the boxed pancake mix.”

“He really did!” Sarah exclaimed, still laughing. “It went everywhere!”

“I see that,” you replied, grinning at her before turning back to Joel.

He stared up at you with wide, sad eyes and shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t get it open and then it just…” His arms spread wide, gesturing at the powdery mess on the tile in such an endearing way. You couldn’t stop your smile from growing wider.

“Go finish getting ready for work. I’ll get Sarah some cereal and clean this mess up,” you directed, gently pulling him to his feet and around the mess.

“You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess, sweetheart,” Joel replied, pulling you in for a hug. You could tell the warm press of your bodies together made him feel better and you basked in it as well, not minding the bit of pancake mix that transferred to your clothes.

“Don’t worry, I got it. Now git!” One hand swatted at his ass playfully as he rushed out of the room. “Now, what kind of cereal do you want, nugget?”

Fifteen minutes later, Joel returned to find the mess gone and you running a mop over the tile to wipe away any last remnants of the pancake mix disaster. Sarah already finished her cereal and was upstairs brushing her teeth before it was time to head to school. When you put the mop back into the bucket, Joel crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you close until your back was flush against his chest.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed in your ear, sending a flood of goosebumps down your arms. Joel pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear and left a trail of kisses down your neck. The feel of his lips on your skin exceeded any expectations you had, and a contented sigh left your own lips.

With a hurried tenderness, he spun you around in his arms, the mop forgotten as it nearly fell out of the bucket. Faces close together now, your eyes drank in every detail of him from the richness of his dark brown eyes, the curve of his nose, the purposeful stubble of his beard, and, finally, to the fullness of his bottom lip. You could feel his eyes doing the same, drinking in every bit of your face before tilting his head impossibly closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now, ok?” Joel murmured; lips nearly pressed to yours already and you hummed in approval.

After all the weeks of mutual pining and self-doubt, Joel finally kissed you. It started as a soft press of lips and quickly morphed into an overwhelming need to devour each other when his tongue teased along the seam of your lips, begging entry to deepen the kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues tangled as you tasted each other – somehow, the taste of coffee was suddenly appealing when it came from Joel’s mouth.

Hands wandered – his over your curves and yours into his luscious, dark curls. Joel’s hair felt as silky as it looked, and you had been itching to get your fingers in it from the moment you met him.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps bouncing down the stairs broke the two of you apart, breathless, and dazed.

“Wow,” Joel murmured, struggling to remove his hands from your waist.

You smiled up at him, equally unwilling to remove your fingers from his hair. “Exactly,” you whispered, stepping back with your hands at your side just as Sarah entered the kitchen.

“I’m ready!” she declared excitedly and you both grinned at her cuteness.

“Okay, nugget. Let’s head out.”

Heart melting in your chest, you watched Joel and Sarah do their morning routine of saying goodbye. The love between the two of them was so strong it was like a tangible thing you could hold in your hands. Nostalgia washed over you as memories of your own childhood, moments like this with your dad, flooded your mind. What you had with your dad, what Joel and Sarah had together, was a connection that would never fade, only grow stronger with time.

Briefly, you wondered if your evolving relationship with Joel would affect that connection, interfere with it in anyway. You couldn’t move forward with him if that was the case. Some woman showing up and changing the dynamic between you and your dad would have upset you as a child and you refused to be the cause of any upset Sarah felt.

When the two of them stepped back from their hug and grinned at you, any question about your place in their dynamic washed down the drain. You felt nearly dizzy with relief when Sarah quickly said, “Give her a hug, too, Daddy,” and shoved him as hard as she could in your direction.

With a chuckle, Joel gave in to Sarah’s demand, wrapping his arms around you. The broadness of him surrounded you, enveloping you in warmth and a sense of security you’d not experienced before. Was that what love felt like?

“Have a good day, darlin’. I’ll see you later,” Joel’s deep voice was but a whisper in your ear, his lips just grazing your earlobe. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Warmth raced up your neck to your cheeks and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of what you hoped would happen later. “You have a good day too, Joel. Be careful, ok?”

“Always, darlin’.” He winked as you led Sarah out the front door to your car.

The journey to Sarah’s school started off quietly, Sarah bopping along to the music on the radio as you navigated the morning traffic. Your thoughts wandered to what you should wear later when Sarah startled you with a sudden question.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend now?”

She asked the question so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure how to respond. Would she be upset with whatever answer you gave? Was there even a right or wrong answer? What did she want to hear? Mind racing, you settled on asking Sarah a question in return.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

Tilting her head side to side a few times, the little girl contemplated her answer while you held your breath. She turned to you with a smile so big it scrunched up her nose. “Nope! It’d make me really happy.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline.

“Uh huh. You’re the coolest and prettiest. My dad would be lucky if you were his girlfriend,” Sarah admitted with all the confidence and knowledge of a ten-year-old. Another head tilt and she added, “So, are you?”

Equal parts amazed and grateful for Sarah’s acceptance of the idea, you opted for honesty. “I mean, I don’t know,” you shrugged. How could you explain what you had to a 10-year-old? “We haven’t talked about naming it yet, but we did decide to see how we like being together. Does that make sense?”

Sarah gave it a moment of thought. “Yeah, I think so. It’s kinda like how you’re a teacher, but not officially until you get the job, right?”

You laughed at the comparison with a nod. “Exactly. I’m as good as your dad’s girlfriend, we just haven’t made titles official yet.” You pulled up in front of the school and it was Sarah’s turn to get out. “Now get going, nugget. Have a good day!”

The little girl bounced out of the car, calling out to one of her friends. Just before you pulled away, you heard Sarah tell the other girl that you were her dad’s not-yet girlfriend.

The day absolutely dragged. Joel could swear that time went backwards every time he looked at a clock. It didn’t help that every single subcontractor gave him a hard time about something today.

The roof trusses arrived six weeks early and the sub refused to take them back even though the damn things would rot before they got to the roofing phase of construction. The company he rented the extra backhoe from wanted to raise their rates in the middle of his contract. The list went on and Joel ran out of patience three hours ago.

The only thing holding him together was the thought of you. Spending time with you. Kissing you. Touching you. Burying himself inside you… He adjusted himself with a sigh. Damn, he needed to put those particular thoughts on ice before he got himself riled up. The workday was shitty enough, he didn’t need the guys giving him a hard time about an untimely chub in his pants.

Finally, Joel had enough of everyone’s bullshit and called it a day, leaving his foreman in charge of the worksite.

“Off to doll yourself up, are ya?” Tommy teased as Joel headed for his truck. Gesturing in the general direction of Joel’s crotch, he added, “You remember how to use that thing? Make sure to clear out the cobwebs and use protection!”

“Jesus, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, climbing into his truck, and driving off. He knew his brother was only teasing, but Joel was nervous enough as it was. He didn’t need Tommy getting in his head. He did have a point about protection, though.

A quick stop at the convenience store to grab a box of condoms, Joel made it home before you and Sarah. Putting on some 90s rock, he jumped in the shower, putting in the extra effort to tidy himself up down there. He wondered if you preferred pubic hair or not. Fearing he was getting way ahead of himself, Joel opted to just trim his down and hoped for the best.

By the time he finished trimming his facial hair and tousling his curls, you and Sarah were downstairs, working on her homework. As he walked down the stairs, Joel could hear you encouraging his daughter to think the questions through and congratulating her when she got the answers right. His heart grew three sizes watching how you were with Sarah. You held his whole world in the palm of your hand and treasured it like the precious cargo it was.

Joel was falling so hard for you. You were quickly gaining the power to destroy him.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called out when she spotted him in the doorway. “We just finished my math homework. Can I play in the backyard?”

He set up a tire swing on the large live oak out back a week ago and it quickly became his little girl’s happy place. “Of course, nugget. Come give your old man a hug first.” Bending down, Joel swept Sarah up in his arms, biceps stretching his shirt sleeves as he swung her around in a circle. Sarah’s laughter echoed through the room, and you smiled sweetly at the pair of them.

“Uncle Tommy’s coming to take you out for dinner and ice cream in a bit. Ok?” Sarah nodded when he settled her back on her feet and raced for the sliding door. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Joel turned to you. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he said, voice deep and velvety.

Your body followed his command without conscious thought, so great the need to be in his arms. “I thought about you all day,” you admitted, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Me, too. Could hardly focus on the job thinking about you and spending this evening together.” He tightened his arms around you, head bending to seal his lips to yours. When your lips parted at his prompting, Joel teased your plush bottom lip with his teeth. “It’s like a tasty little gummy worm,” he teased. “I could nibble on it all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, the little breathless sound music to his ears.

The kiss deepened until you were licking into each other’s mouths, hands wandering and grasping for purchase on any piece of real estate you could reach. Neither of you heard the front door open or the footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” he asked cheekily as the two of you sprang apart, disheveled and gasping for breath.

Joel ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. “Excellent timing as always, brother.”

“Y’all just couldn’t wait five more minutes, could ya?” Tommy’s grin a mile wide as he teased. “Lemme get the nugget out of here before you two scar her for life.”

You tucked your face into Joel’s shoulder bashfully when Tommy slipped through the sliding door. Joel groaned and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t mind him, darlin’. He just likes to bust my balls.”

Ten minutes later, after some hugs from Sarah and more teasing from Tommy, you and Joel were alone. Taking your hand, he led you to the couch. He hoped you didn’t notice that his rough palms were sweaty with nerves. You were abnormally quiet, and he wondered if you were nervous as well.

Seated a few inches apart, the tension became too much. “What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up Netflix on the TV. He barely logged into his account when you suddenly straddled his lap.

“Hi,” you said when he stared at you in surprise. “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

“What?” He barely got his mouth to form the word, his brain short circuiting with you in his lap. His grip on the remote loosened, yet neither of you cared when it fell to the ground.

“You.”

There was a moment where you both froze, each waiting for the other to act first. Then the tension snapped, and Joel’s lips crashed against yours. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Tongues tangled in a never-ending dance as your hips tilted, grinding down on him. Joel was uncomfortably hard in moments, pressing up against your warmth.

His hands were everywhere, fingers tenderly tracing the structure of your cheekbones, down the curve of your neck, along the swell of your breasts. They finally settled, grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth, hips bucking in search of more friction.

Gasping for breath, Joel tore his mouth from yours, his hands urging your hips into a rhythm as you dry humped him. His mouth left a trail of scorching kisses down your neck, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to flow down your arms. Your hips rocked, gliding across his hardened length and Joel swore he could feel your wetness breaching through the layer of clothes separating you.

Fuck, how he wanted to taste you, get high on your sweet nectar. He knew, just knew in that primal way, that yours would be the best pussy he ever tasted. His cock swelled impossibly harder at the mere thought of burying his face between your legs.

“Jooooeeelllll.” His name coming from your luscious lips in a drawn-out moan caused his own hips to buck up into you, hitting just the right spot to make you both see stars from the friction alone. His mouth sucked little marks into your neck, leaving his left ear exposed to your mouth as crooned, “I’m gonna come, fuck. You’re gonna make me come in my panties, Joel.”

“Fuck, darlin’. Come all over me, pretty girl. I want to see you fall apart from grinding on me like this. Drench those panties.” Joel sat back a little, just enough to watch your face as your orgasm swept over you. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open in a silent ‘o’ as you trembled above him, delicate hands clenching the meat of his shoulders for balance. A little sheen of sweat dusted your hairline. Fucking beautiful.

Joel was absolutely certain he could feel you drenching his pants as you came, your breath finally coming back in a sharp exhale. He had never been so turned on in his life. Watching you come apart for him, feeling it seep through the layers of clothing became too much. For the first time in his adult life, Joel Miller came in his pants with a desperate whimper.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981 @marirxse

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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lovelyhan · 1 year ago

Text

— every summertime ⟢

you're not really interested in the record shop downtown. but people aren't oblivious to the way you keep trying to get into the owner's pants—not even the owner himself.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 16.1k words

★ TAGS; 70s au, playing hard to get, bad bad bad decisions, friends questioning said decisions, reader is a slut in theory but not so much in practice (at least...in the beginning), pining?, angst but like, only a microcosm of angst, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ WARNINGS; alcohol consumption

★ NOTES; if i told you all about how much this fic has changed over the last three months i've spent writing it, you'd all be sick of me going back and forth with the direction i wanted this to go lmfao !!!! i don't think i've ever suffered writing anything as much as i did with this, so i'm proud to be sharing the fruit of every one of my trashed drafts to all of you :') i sincerely hope you all like it T T

this is part of the svthub 70s;teen collab!

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness, dom jeonghan bc i just Need him to dom me, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, dacryphilia kinda?, cockwarming

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ JEONGHAN TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @bias-recs - @lunaryoongie - @haoxiaoba - @ak6ko

“Ji, I got you a present!”

Your best friend of over ten years glances at you momentarily while he’s in the middle of replacing the strings of his guitar. There’s an unimpressed look on his face when he does it—no different from the way he looks at you whenever you walk in a gritty session of Dungeons and Dragons back in high school. Only this time, you’re being downright annoying for another reason entirely.

“I’m pretty sure you already have all the Led Zeppelin vinyls in existence so I just picked out whatever from the shelf instead,” you tell him nonchalantly as you bring out a spiffy-looking record of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. “This one’s nice, isn’t it?”

It is, but here’s the thing:

“I already have that.” Jihoon affixes you with a blank stare as he gets up from his seat, letting his fingers glide across the alphabetized collection on his own shelf.

Ten seconds later, your best friend pulls a carefully preserved vinyl with the exact same album art plastered on the front, making you lower the one in your hands in abject disbelief. But Jihoon has been friends with you long enough to know that something like this isn’t enough to fluster you.

“Consider it a high quality dupe then.” You giggle maniacally before letting yourself fall on top of Jihoon’s bed and hold the sealed vinyl tightly to your chest. “Jeonghan looked soooo gorgeous today. I was really down in the dumps when I heard that he cut his hair, but there’s just a different appeal when guys have it shorter. You get me, right?”

“I really don’t,” Jihoon deadpans as he plops himself back into his chair, coiling a roll of fresh nylon around the pegs of his guitar. “Don’t you ever get tired of spending your summers chasing after a guy that obviously doesn’t like you back?”

“Don’t you get tired of lecturing me when we both know I’m never gonna listen?” A simper escapes your lips before you engage the Stevie Wonder poster on Jihoon’s ceiling in a staring contest. “Besides, it’s not as if I like like him! I just want to fuck him—big difference.”

There it is—the classic why am I even best friends with you sigh that only makes Jihoon more endearing than he already is. “Let me rephrase then: why do you keep chasing after a guy who obviously doesn’t want to fuck you back?”

Stevie Wonder ends up winning when you shoot back up into a seating position, letting out an obnoxious laugh that you stifle with the same vinyl you supposedly got for Jihoon. “Au contraire! It might seem that way, but you just haven’t seen a person as deep in his own denial as Jeonghan is.”

“Second door to the left—bathroom’s there. I highly recommend that you take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror.” Jihoon’s jaw ticks when he says the words but as long as he isn’t blatantly kicking you out of his room, you’re still within tolerable range. “Didn’t Mingyu set you up with one of his friends? I clearly remember you telling me about it before the semester ended.”

Ah, that’s right.

Two weeks ago, Kim Mingyu—one of the many friends you’ve left in your hometown—called the telephone that you shared in an apartment with four other girls. When the housemate that answered told you about some guy with a lisp looking for you, you quickly ditched whatever notes you were pretending to read for a quick conversation.

Of course, once Mingyu dropped the call, you quickly turned the telephone dial to ring up your best friend with a pressing question: Mingyu wants to set me up with some guy named Jungkook. Do you know him?

Jihoon, however, has never met anyone that goes by that name his entire life, which made you draw the conclusion that this Jungkook person must be Mingyu’s friend from another city. He tends to collect people like trading cards and you can’t fault him for it. Mingyu is pretty charming.

Charming enough that you agreed to go hang out with him and Jungkook once you’re back in your hometown.

“Well, he hasn’t contacted me about it again so my Jungkook appointment is on hold until then,” you point out with a huff. “Plus, I don’t see why I should stop trying my chances with Jeonghan just because I’ve got another boy reserved.”

“I don’t remember you being this much of a man-eater last summer.”

“Yet you still love me anyway.”

Despite already having one in his possession, Jihoon accepts the blasted Pink Floyd vinyl and places the dupe right next to his first copy on the shelf of collectibles. The conversation drifts onto different topics ranging from your mutual struggles with work and the supposed girlfriend that Soonyoung may or may not be lying about. Then right after he finishes restringing his guitar, your best friend walks you home just like old times.

When you’re halfway to the front door of your house, however, Jihoon calls out your name—a sound barely audible in the evening breeze, but you turn around with a questioning look anyway.

“Don’t be too pushy with Jeonghan, okay?” He instructs sternly. “I know you’re just fucking around, but really, you’re better off investing your time in better things. In better people. Not someone who only keeps you around as a source of entertainment.”

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand for added flair. “Fucking around? I’m very serious about getting my insides rearranged by him!”

Your best friend makes a face. “Y/N.”

“Just kidding, Ji. You, of all people, should know that I know my limits!” you reassure him with a smile. “Why do you think Jeonghan still speaks to me warmly whenever I walk inside his shop? Whenever I run into him at the disco?”

“Because you’re his customer? And he’s after your money? And maybe he’s a pretty decent person outside his reputation as a sexual fiend?”

“Well that might be true, but that’s also because he’s interested in me too!”

“Good night, Miss Delusional.”

“Good night, Mister Enabler!”

This is pretty much a good summary of your relationship with your best friend. You willingly get yourself tangled up in something incredibly stupid, he tells you off like he’s your mother every time he finds out, and once things start crashing down, you run over to Jihoon in tears while he consoles you for something that’s a hundred percent your fault. It’s quite the understated miracle how he’s tolerated you for so long, but that’s precisely why you’re best friends in the first place.

But there’s this one thing that you can’t tell even Jihoon about.

“Were you finally out on a date with Jeonghan?”

Your sister, Luna, asks when you make your way to the living room to say hi. She’s nose-deep in one of those Stephen King novels, but her eyes stray away from the pages to spare you a momentary glance.

You snort. “As if he’s that easy.”

Luna hums before her eyes wander back to her book. “Mmm. You’re right. If he was, he would’ve gone out with you like, I dunno, three years ago?”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“And you’re such a coward,” she snorts. “You know, if you just told him hey I’ve been in love with you since we met at Joshua’s graduation party instead of asking if he wants to sleep with you, your odds of getting with him would skyrocket.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” you chuckle before stepping inside the living room to ruffle her hair—an act of affection that Luna receives with distaste. “Quit making unnecessary comments about my sex life and help me with dinner before Mom and Dad get home.”

“Your non-existent sex life?”

“Oh, screw you.”

After having dinner with your family, you quickly retreat to your bedroom to retire for the evening before Soonyoung can call your house phone to ask if you’re down for a night out. It’s practically tradition whenever you’re back in town, but your last conversation with Jihoon has been weighing heavily on your mind since you walked inside your house.

Despite there being a one hundred percent chance that you’ll run into Jeonghan again if you go out with your friends, you’re strangely not in the mood to mingle like you always do.

You’re better off investing your time in better things. In better people.

That might be true, but…

How can you possibly break free of a cycle you’ve always found yourself tangled up in every summertime?

THREE SUMMERS AGO

A few nights before graduating from college, Hong Jisoo—better known as Joshua—decided to throw an unforgettable party at a disco club his stepfather owns and monopolizes an entire chain out of. You’re not sure how he managed to pull the strings and smuggle enough booze to make the entire graduating class drunk, but old money does wonders especially in a town as small as this.

You recall it vividly because that was the first time you met Jeonghan.

He was a new face in a crowd of people you practically grew up with. But even if he wasn’t, you still would’ve been able to pick him out of the sea of graduating seniors with ease because of how breathtaking he looks.

His hair was brown when you met him, the tips barely tickling the nape of his neck with bangs framing his soulful eyes. You caught him sipping on a glass of something you can’t really name and the moment your brain managed to process the existence of such a beautiful man in such a boring old town, your immediate reaction was to turn to Mingyu.

“Who’s that? Violet jacket, white pants? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

Mingyu hums before looking around—something made easier by his towering height. “Oh! That’s Jeonghan—Joshua’s brother.”

“Brother?” Jihoon pipes up right next to you, mirroring your surprise. “I thought Joshua was an only child.”

Seungkwan hisses as he ushers the four of you into a miraculously vacant booth near the jukebox, looking around as if your conversation was under threat of being eavesdropped on. “Pipe it down! We don’t want to get kicked out of the party for talking smack about Joshua’s family.”

“We’re not talking smack, we’re just confused.” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Is it so bad to wonder about the newcomer when the entire disco has been eyeing him up and down? Look, even Soonyoung stopped mid-dance just to talk to him.”

True to Jihoon’s observation, another one of your friends, Kwon Soonyoung deigned to step off the dancefloor to exchange a few words with this Jeonghan person. Their interaction lasts for merely a few seconds with Soonyoung obviously taking a liking to the newcomer—a hearty laugh piercing through the song playing on the jukebox as he nods before heading back to whence he came.

Jeonghan was grinning the entire time too—a lazy, laid-back yet attractive smile—and fuck…

You might have a nasty case of love at first sight.

“So are you going to explain why Joshua suddenly has a brother or are we going to be in suspense the entire night?” Mingyu whines in his seat.

Seungkwan huffs. “Alright, alright! Apparently, Joshua’s stepdad has another son who used to live several cities away. No one knows why he moved into this old dump, but hey, more eye candy for everyone, I guess.”

“Is he single?” you blurt out.

Mingyu’s expression twists with smugness. “Why are you curious? You’re not trying to go after him, are you?”

“And if I am?” Brows raised, you fold your arms together as you stare the six-foot puppy down. “It’s like Seungkwan said—he’s eye candy! It won’t do anyone any harm to try and get to know him better, right?”

“Are you sure that’s a wise decision to make when you’re going to be traveling a lot for work?” Jihoon ponders seriously. “What happened to being ready to leave everything behind and starting anew?”

“Hey, it still counts as starting anew when I’m trying to get with the new guy in town.”

That’s when it starts.

Jeonghan is easy to talk to. That night, you learned that he moved into town because the big city was much too stifling for him to bear; that he gets along swimmingly with his stepbrother despite their parents’ sudden remarriage; that he isn’t really interested when you boldly asked if he wanted to go out sometime.

It’s no big deal. Not like you went into that conversation with high expectations. The fact that he even entertained you was already a miracle on its own. You can take your losses with your head held high—because it’s no big deal.

But then you saw him leaving the disco with some woman you don’t recognize. You’re not sure who she is and what her relation is to Jeonghan, but the smiles they exchanged as the man of the hour escorted her outside would be forever engraved in the back of your head.

The rest of the evening was a blur. You thought you’d be able to wipe the image of Jeonghan going home with someone else off your mind with enough booze, but even when you wake up with a hangover the next morning, the ghost of his pretty smile still haunts you.

You carry it with you even after graduation—all teary eyes and tight hugs exchanged with the friends you spent your entire life with. While Soonyoung is in the middle of telling you to memorize everyone’s house telephone numbers so you can keep in touch while you’re away, you spot Jeonghan in the crowd of visitors filling the university quad..

He’s with Joshua and their parents, happily congratulating the youngest for his most recent milestone. You're sure you were at least subtle enough with how you observe him from the corner of your eye, but he catches you staring anyway.

Instead of breaking eye contact immediately, however, Jeonghan holds your gaze and cracks another one of those lazy grins before waving. You have to look around to see if he was gesturing towards anyone else, but to your surprise, it seems that you’re the intended recipient.

Naturally, you don’t let it get to your head. You’re leaving town in three days and maybe it isn’t such a good idea to keep hankering for someone who made it clear that he isn’t into you.

But then Jihoon thought it would be a great idea to drop by this newly opened record store in Main Street. So I can give you a little souvenir when you’re thousands of miles away, he said and you were so touched with the sentiment, you actually went along with it.

The excitement you’d racked up at the idea of receiving a gift from your best friend, however, was easily eclipsed by the person that greets the two of you once you enter the front door of the shop.

“Good morning,” greets a chipper-looking Jeonghan wearing denim overalls with the name of the shop embroidered on the front pocket. “How can I help you two?”

Jihoon quickly recovers from the initial surprise and utters, “Oh, um, I wanted to buy a few cassette tapes for my friend. Can you direct us to the right aisle?”

Jeonghan nods before leaning across the wooden counter to direct you two to a row of shelves on the far right. “Just go down that one and you should be able to find what you’re looking for. They’re all arranged by the artist’s names.”

“Cool. Got it.”

Before you can even get a word in, your best friend proceeds to drag you off to the stack of cassette tapes—ducking behind the shelves to make sure Jeonghan doesn’t see what goes on.

“What’s he doing here?” he hisses quietly.

“Do I look like I have a clue? You’re the one who planned this,” you point out with your arms folded. “Just when I thought you were against me making a move on Jeonghan, you proceed to bring me to the place where he works anyway.”

“I still am! I just didn’t know he’d be here too…”

“Well, don’t get your panties in a twist and just let me pick out my gift so we can leave. How’s that?”

Though he’s visibly disgruntled with the knowledge you’ve both been presented with, Jihoon grunts in agreement before you flutter off to the neatly organized shelf. It reminds you of the one back in your best friend’s room. He’s been big on collecting vinyls and cassette tapes for as long as you can remember, so it’s natural for Jihoon to be drawn to this newly opened record shop.

When you end up taking far too long to make up your mind about what you want, Jihoon eventually migrates to the other spots in the store—checking out the other merchandise being put up for sale with a quiet look of amazement shining in his eyes. The sight of him in his natural habitat has you chuckling to yourself before your gaze rivets back to the collection of tapes you’re supposed to choose from.

Of course, you’re startled by Jeonghan appearing seemingly out of nowhere right next to you.

“You’re taking your sweet time,” he chuckles, offering up another smile that makes your heart do somersaults. “Say, aren’t you the one who asked me out at Shua’s graduation party?”

You stare him down like he just personally affronted your entire family before clearing your throat—making a show of grabbing a random tape from the rack to examine its contents. Anything to get you to look at anything but Jeonghan’s stupidly beautiful face.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” you laugh uneasily. “And I’m only taking my sweet time because I don’t want to repetitively play an album I don’t even like on my Walkman.”

“Fair. How about I offer up a few suggestions then?”

That makes you arch an eyebrow. “Sure. What do you have for me?”

He hums for a moment before reaching for one of the higher levels—easily accomplished by his height. The gesture has you backing up against the wooden shelf to give him some more space, but the close proximity has your face flaring with warmth.

“Here,” Jeonghan offers before handing you a cassette tape that looks pretty brand new. “The Beatles is cliché for a reason and I personally think Let It Be was the best way to end their time together. But you might also be interested in Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors. It’s a personal favorite of mine.”

He then proceeds to reach for another tape from the store’s vibrant collection and gives it to you—the lazy smile on his face never faltering.

“Hmm, which one should I get though?” you wonder while comparing the two. “My best friend over there rarely gets me gifts and I’m not about to abuse the privilege by getting two.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “The other one’s on the house then.”

The nonchalance in his tone makes your face twist with disbelief. “What?”

“I said it’s on the house. You can have your friend pay for one while you get the other for free,” he explains. “Think of it as a limited time promo of sorts.”

You grimace. “Um, I don’t think I saw any signs outside that said you’re offering a Buy 1 Take 1… Won’t the owner of this place be furious with you or something?”

“Now how can I ever be furious with myself, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure what baffles you more—the fact that Jeonghan turns out to be his own boss or the fact that he just addressed you with some nickname that has you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Y/N, are you done—oh.”

Saved by the bell—or rather, your best friend—Jihoon walks back into the scene with surprise coloring his features. He’s got a couple of vinyls and a box of guitar picks hefted in his arms as he stares at you and Jeonghan all alone in the aisle.

“Ji, I finally got to pick some out,” you beam while holding the two tapes Jeonghan recommended. “The owner said it’s a Buy 1 Take 1 so…”

He mutters the words the owner under his breath before his gaze zeroes in on Jeonghan who simply waves at him with a cheery air.

“Oh, I-I see,” Jihoon clears his throat. “Thank you for being so generous. You really didn’t have to. She doesn’t even care that much about music in the first—”

“Anyway,” you interject loudly before directing yourself to the counter. “Let’s go check these out. We’re meeting Mingyu and the rest of the guys for lunch, aren’t we?”

You pack up your business with Jeonghan fairly quickly. He places your most recent purchases in individual plastic bags, handing them to you with an ever-present smile. Even when you’re already seated at the diner you chose to hold your farewell lunch in, your mind still toys with the memory of Jeonghan calling you sweetheart.

Though if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think of Jeonghan much when you eventually move out of your hometown to pursue your work. You make new friends and colleagues, kindle a few romances here and there, and still keep in touch with a select few you’ve left behind.

Of course, Jeonghan does cross your mind whenever you deign to listen to the cassette tapes he personally picked out for you, but starting over completely in a new city every few months certainly gives you a fresher outlook in life.

Yet whenever you come home for the summer, it takes little for you to start regressing into old habits you thought you’d already outgrown.

TWO SUMMERS AGO

“When did you arrive in town?”

You nearly spill your drink all over that same violet jacket he was wearing the night you first met him—heart rate spiking at the sight of such a gorgeous face. Jeonghan leans across the counter where you and Seungkwan deigned to catch a breather after dancing your hearts out to Earth, Wind, and Fire. Thankfully, you’re able to mask the surprise upon seeing him again with a warm smile.

“Just this afternoon actually,” you chuckle before taking another sip. “I didn’t think you’d still be here. Big city boy like you should’ve gotten tired of this place in the first month.”

“I could say the same for you,” Jeonghan rebuts with an easygoing grin. “You’re a big city girl now too, aren’t you? But you’re back home anyways.”

“Well, Y/N actually has friends to come back to or else we’ll hop on the earliest flight to wherever the hell she is to come get her ourselves,” Seungkwan interjects beside you with a huff. “What’re you even doing here? Don’t you have a date waiting for you or something?”

Despite convincing yourself that you were over that fleeting crush on Jeonghan, you still feel your shoulders sag at the thought that he was here tonight with someone else. Thankfully, neither Seungkwan or Jeonghan notice the shift in your countenance.

“I do, actually. I was just going to pick up a couple drinks I ordered earlier. Can’t a man treat her to a Tequila Sunrise?” Jeonghan pouts and just in time the bartender stationed behind the counter places two glasses of a vibrant-looking drink in front of him. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Y/N. I hope the tapes I sold you kept you good company while you were gone.”

Oh. He still remembers that.

“They did,” you affirm all while trying to keep yourself from smiling too much. “I can always rely on the taste of someone who literally owns an entire record store.”

“Well, if you need some new tunes to groove to, you know where to find me,” Jeonghan says with an attractive wink, butterflies beating their wings inside your stomach.

It’s only when Jeonghan walks back to the booth he’s sharing with his supposed date—a pretty blonde with shiny dangling earrings that glimmer in the disco lights—that you realize that maybe you haven’t really gotten over him like you initially thought.

Unfortunately for you, Seungkwan gets the same idea.

“Jihoon’s not gonna be happy about this,” he drawls before taking another sip of his drink.

“Well, he’s not my mother.”

“Your mother won’t be happy about you getting the hots for someone who sleeps with different women every weekend, but okay.”

You brush off his comments with a shake of your head, downing the rest of your drink as you tug him out of his stool. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go find Soonyoung and the others.”

Apart from your usual circle with Jihoon, Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Soonyoung, they’ve made a couple more friends in the local university they decided to attend together. They introduce you to Seokmin, a theater major with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen—and for some reason, they’ve all managed to befriend Joshua Hong himself as well.

The new additions to your growing group of friends fit right in. Even Joshua, who you’ve always thought of as some snotty trust fund baby, proved to be quite enjoyable company. To your delight, your first night back after almost an entire year of being away turns out much more worthwhile than you initially thought.

For the rest of the night, you try your best to keep your mind off of Jeonghan and focus on mingling with your friends again. God knows how badly you’ve missed them—the occasional phone call can’t ever hold a candle to hanging out with these lunatics in the flesh.

But despite having loads of fun just watching Soonyoung engage someone apparently named Minghao in a dance-off, you can’t help but feel like someone’s watching you.

It doesn’t take long for you to find Jeonghan’s eyes in the crowd.

His date is resting her head on his shoulder—obviously buzzed from the drinks she’s consumed for the night. You’re not sure if it was pure coincidence that your gazes locked in such a packed crowd, but before you can even think about waving at him, Mingyu yanks you to the dancefloor to duke it out with the rest of your friends.

The heat of Jeonghan’s gaze sears into your being like a soldering iron kissing your skin. Every time you try to look for him wherever the boys would unwittingly drag you to have some fun, you’d find his intense stare still affixed on your form. If it was anyone else, you would’ve been unnerved by the scrutiny he’s giving you especially when his date is literally half-asleep next to him in their booth.

But maybe part of you will always want Jeonghan—even if you’ve convinced yourself otherwise.

When the night comes to an end, Mingyu and Seokmin do the honors of carrying a ditzy-drunk Soonyoung inside Joshua’s SUV. It proves to be a fool’s errand at most because of course Soonyoung would make it a point to be difficult while all his well-meaning friends just want to tuck him back to bed—breaking into a quick dance every five steps forward.

“Hey, I’ll just go use the washroom first,” you whisper in Jihoon’s ear. “I won’t be long.”

Your best friend nods. “Yeah, we need someone to look after these idiots. Seungkwan would just provoke Soonyoung into doing something even more stupid.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Seungkwan complains.

You break away from them momentarily with a giggle before hoisting the strap of your purse over your shoulder and making your way to the washroom.

There are a couple of other disheveled disco-goers trying to make themselves look a bit more presentable. You decide to take a vacant spot by the mirror to touch up your makeup, dusting bits of glitter with unknown origin away from your face. Once you’re all set, the others have long left the washroom—prompting you to make your way out of the building before the owner closes its doors.

However, once you make it back to the main area, you spot Jeonghan on one of the barstools—speaking to a man with dyed blue hair, while his date is nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” Jeonghan calls out despite your best effort to brisk walk to the door. “You’re still here? Your friends didn’t ditch you or anything, right?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. They’re waiting for me outside. They were struggling to get Soonyoung inside your brother’s car so I thought I’d go freshen up first.”

“Shua’s car? I didn’t know you two were friends,” he comments with brows raised. “I asked him about you back then but he said he and you haven’t spoken two words to each other.”

Wait a minute. He asked Joshua about you?

“That’s because you’re always too friendly, Han,” the other man whose name you don’t know interjects with a roll of his eyes. “You probably know all your customers and mine by name at this point.”

“You’re being funny again, Cheol,” Jeonghan snickers before turning to you once again. “Y/N, this is Seungcheol. He’s the new manager of this particular branch of our father’s discotheques. He’s also a very good friend of mine.”

You glance at Seungcheol with a nod. “Hi.”

“Hmm, your friends are a bunch of regulars here, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” he observes.

“That’s because this little bird has been away for work for the past year,” Jeonghan supplies while twirling a glass of what looks like bourbon in his hand.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at him. “You sure know a lot about Y/N.”

“Well, she was one of my first customers and her best friend is one of my most loyal regulars,” he laughs before taking a sip, grinning so handsomely, you can almost feel your knees give out at the sight of him. “Tell Jihoon I said hi once you meet up with them again, yeah?”

“O-Okay,” you stammer, clutching your purse much too tightly for someone who’s just having a casual conversation with a bunch of guys who aren't your friends.

“I’ll leave you for a while. I’m going to go check on your sister and make sure she hasn’t thrown up all over my desk,” Seungcheol excuses himself with a pat on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“Your sister?” you repeat with an incredulous ring to your voice.

“Mhmm. My biological sister,” Jeonghan hums in affirmation as Seungcheol steps out. “Not so different from you, she’s been traveling in and out of the country for work and decided to pay me a visit while she’s here. Though I didn’t expect her alcohol tolerance to be…like that, which is why I had her rest in Cheol’s office for the meantime.”

Your mind processes his words at lightning speed—quickly pulling out the memory of Jeonghan with his supposed date with her head on his shoulder.

“So your date was your sister?” you clarify.

“Why are you making it sound like it’s a bad thing? Can’t I take my sister out on a few dates?” He shakes his head.

“I never said anything like that!”

Jeonghan places a hand on his chest in feigned offense, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. “It’s alright, I’m quite used to being falsely judged.”

“You are so dramatic,” you snort.

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs airily before putting down his glass, getting up from the stool he decided to occupy. “By the way, there’s a little something that’s been bothering me since you came over here.”

As your present company draws closer to you with each word, your heart swells with equal parts anticipation and dreadful curiosity.

Something’s been bothering him? Did you perhaps do something wrong? That’s a little impossible because you could’ve sworn you’ve done your best to ignore him the entire—

“You’ve got some glitter right…” Jeonghan murmurs as he cups the side of your face with a warm hand, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.

“Here.”

It’s as if time came to a standstill when he does it—holding both your gaze and your breath captive in the lush brown of his eyes. You always wondered what it would feel like to have Jeonghan’s skin on yours and of all the ways it could’ve happened, this isn’t exactly part of your list of delusions.

He’s so close and so pretty and he smells so good—

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out sometime?”

You don’t even realize that your thoughts have translated it into words until Jeonghan’s expression morphs from relaxed to mildly surprised. He pulls away only a little before his lips twitch into a smile that borders on taunting.

“Oh? You’re still on a mission, huh?” Jeonghan simpers. “You’re a persistent little thing, aren’t you?”

Maybe it’s just the alcohol you’ve consumed making you just a bit braver than you usually are, but your mouth just won’t stop running.

“Well, I wouldn’t be this persistent if you didn’t give any signs that you might’ve lied to me the first time I asked.”

“Hm? And what makes you think I was lying?”

Your shoulders heave with a soft laugh, folding your arms together as you hold his gaze with confidence oozing out of your posture. “Yoon Jeonghan, if you really aren’t interested, then why were you watching me the entire night? I’m not blind you know. You weren’t being subtle either.”

“What if I was just extremely happy to see one of my first ever customers back in town?” he chuckles, the tone of his voice aggravatingly leveled for someone you’re supposedly cornering. “And sorry to say, sweetheart, but I don’t really go out with any of Shua’s friends.”

His reasoning makes you heave an incredulous laugh as you recall the way he stared at you earlier tonight like you have a target on your back. You want to make it a point that you’ve only considered his stepbrother as a friend on this same night, but decide on going at this with a different approach.

“Okay,” you respond coolly, challenging the nonchalant smile on his face with one of your own. “If you don’t go out with any of Joshua’s friends, would you sleep with one?”

You don’t know how, but you’ve managed to make the distance between you even smaller. Jeonghan doesn’t budge even as you stare at him with fire in your eyes—even when your skin prickles with electricity from the sparks of something inevitably flying between the two of you.

Once upon a time, you resigned yourself to the fact that Jeonghan would be nothing more than a fleeting, unrequited crush. But who knew that all it would take is a single night after months of not seeing him to make you realize that maybe things aren’t really what they seem?

“My, I’ve never had anyone come onto me this strongly before,” he muses with a soft laugh. “But your friends must be looking for you. No one takes that long to retouch in the ladies’ room, no? You best be on your way, Y/N.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” you deadpan with an amused smirk. “If I told you I’d leave you alone and never bother you with this again if you really, truly aren’t interested, will you answer me then?”

A voice that sounds like a strange mix of Jihoon and Seungkwan wails in the back of your semi-inebriated mind. What the fuck are you doing?!

You want to respond back that you completely know what you’re doing, but you’re well aware that the half the words you’ve uttered during the entire course of the conversation would never even get past your lips had you been in a better state of mind.

But for all of Jeonghan’s inclination of playing hard-to-get, he leans closer to your ear—the hand he places on your bare shoulder nearly searing his mark onto your skin.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart.”

This game you’re playing with Jeonghan eventually becomes commonplace.

You spend a chunk of it deliberately getting under his skin. While you certainly made all those bold declarations under the influence, you quickly realized that the day after Jeonghan gave you his cryptic answer, you’re completely serious about this so-called mission.

So you brought out all sorts of ammunition that would make your mother weep with how you’re practically flaying yourself open for a man. You’d purposely wear tight-fitting clothes that emphasized the dips and curves of your body, show up to every night out where you were certain Jeonghan would be present, and of course, hang out at his record store more times than an average person would willingly spend in her boring old hometown.

Jeonghan—ever the infuriatingly level-headed person he is—takes all of it in stride. Where your friends have raised eyebrows with how you’re openly pursuing the most un-pursueable man you all know, he doesn’t treat you any differently from the way he usually does.

He still entertains you whenever you sneak up on him at the disco, still accommodates your unnecessary purchases in his store…

Still flat-out rejects your advances even if he’s borderline flirting back.

It’s a constant push and pull that Jihoon might be sick of hearing whenever you deign to come over to tell him about the progress of your pursuit—or lack thereof. But since he’s taken up the mantle of your best friend, this is the fate that he has to live with.

“You do know that you’re dancing with a wolf over there, right?” he points out one night while he’s busy writing a song and you’re flipping through a magazine on his bed. “The other guys have told me enough stories about how he’s always got a different date every time they’re at the disco. He’s a raging Casanova, Y/N. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“How can I get hurt when I’m just after a good time?” you chuckle as your ears ring every time he strums his guitar. “If he’s such a Casanova, then why hasn’t he tried to make a move when I’m openly expressing how into him I really am? Have been for, like, two years now!”

“If I knew the thought process behind how he responds to you, I wouldn’t be stressing as much as I have for the past two years,” he grumbles.

“You worry too much about me, Ji. I’ve already fooled around with some guys here and there. What’s another one from my hometown?”

Jihoon turns to glance at you with a tired look on his face. “But Jeonghan isn’t just some guy. He’s Jeonghan.”

You want to refute that statement by saying that you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. But for someone who mostly keeps to himself, Jihoon has an extremely good perception on things. He probably already knows things about Jeonghan even if you don’t say them outright.

The owner of the record store in Main Street is undoubtedly alluring. He’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen—beautiful enough to have you hope time and time again that you can call him yours. What’s more is that the chemistry between you was established the moment he teased the possibility of you getting what you’ve wanted since you met.

Maybe next time, sweetheart.

No matter how risky it is to toe this jagged cliff of your mutual interest, you’ve always been a glutton for danger.

ONE SUMMER AGO

Your game plan after settling your bags into your house is simple: drop by Jeonghan’s store to let you know that the biggest thorn on his side is back in town and check if he magically wants to fuck you this time around. It’s a routine that your friends have long grown tired of—seeing no point in interfering when you’re so dead-set to get with Jeonghan however you can.

It’s pretty pathetic, but you’re anything but a quitter.

Although contrary to popular belief, screwing Yoon Jeonghan isn’t always the only thing running through your head whenever you’re home. Take right now for example.

You’d just finished unpacking your things into your room when you realized that you’d forgotten to place one of the cassette tapes that Jihoon personally made for you inside its usual protective container—discovering that the outer casing was cracked through the middle while the plastic film lolled out of the rupture, dangerously close to being torn in the state you found it in.

If it were any other cassette tape—even the ones Jeonghan personally picked out for you before you left—you wouldn’t have been fazed. These things are replaceable, especially when Jeonghan would have a dozen other copies waiting for you in his store.

Except this tape in particular can’t be replaced because Jihoon spent a fortune getting it personally manufactured for you. He recorded a few of the songs he personally wrote into the film and had it mailed to you as a surprise—a thoughtful attempt at easing your homesickness for the holidays.

There wasn’t a day when you didn’t listen to your best friend sing with the help of your Walkman. Your old cassette tapes from Jeonghan definitely took a backseat once you received Jihoon’s present in the mail with a letter he personally wrote attached to the package.

And now it’s broken because you were an idiot who didn’t pack it somewhere more secure—

“Sweetheart, I’m closing early tonight. If you’re going to ask if I want to sleep with you, you should try…”

Jeonghan’s playful tone falters when he sees that you’re sniffling in the oversized parka you hurriedly pulled from the coatrack before heading over to the only person who can possibly salvage Jihoon’s precious gift. You don’t say anything as you place the broken cassette tape on top of the wooden counter—eyes downcast as Jeonghan peruses what you’ve presented for him to inspect.

“T-That’s really important to me,” you murmur, wiping the tears off your face as your eyes rivet themselves on the smiley that Jihoon doodled right next to the message he wrote for you on the outer cover. “Can you fix it? I’ll pay you up front.”

As the store owner you’ve been crazy about for the better part of three years examines the crime scene before him, he lets out a soft laugh that has you glancing at him inquisitively.

“So Jihoon made you your very own tape, huh? How sweet of him.” He smiles comfortingly—devoid of the usual mirth and amusement he typically showcases in your presence. “Don’t worry too much, yeah? The outer shell is damaged, but the tape reel itself is still intact. I’ll just replace the casing and you’ll still be able to listen to this just fine.”

Your eyes widen ever-so slightly. “Really?”

Jeonghan’s smile spreads even wider as he leans across the counter. He’s tall enough that he can reach you without much difficulty, his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek in a quaint attempt at drying your tears.

The sight of him so close to you is equal parts foreign and familiar. His gesture reminds you of the time he brushed some glitter off your face last summer, but the provocative look in his eyes back then is nowhere to be found. All Jeonghan offers you right now is solace over something that you probably overreacted about.

“I’ll go check if I have some spare cassette cases in the back before I try to fix this, okay? You can have a look around the shop in the meantime.”

Jeonghan punctuates the words with two soft pats on your cheek, his soft smile never faltering as he directs himself to the door behind the counter—Jihoon’s broken present carefully cupped in his hands.

As promised, your knight-in-denim-overalls manages to fix one of the most precious gifts you’ve received in your lifetime. You nearly jump to embrace him when Jeonghan reemerges from the back with the cassette tape more or less good as new, but he quickly side-steps your attempt out of the fear that you’ll end up breaking the damn thing all over again.

“How much do I owe you?” You’re practically humming with glee as you bring out your wallet from the pocket of your jeans. “Thank fucking god, Jeonghan. I was so close to losing my mind over it.”

“I’m the one who revived this patient and you’re thanking god? Way to discredit an artist for his craft.” The store owner pouts. “I’ll let this slide and tell you that you don’t have to pay for a thing.”

“I insist.”

“You can pay for it in other ways, you know.”

Once the words are out of his mouth, silence settles over the two of you in near-deafening fashion. The bustling of cars and other vehicles from outside is the only sound you could hear as you mull over what his words could possibly imply.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You gape, eyeing him incredulously.

As Jeonghan hands you back your perfectly repaired cassette tape, the corners of his mouth twitch with a conniving smile. “What do you think I’m saying, sweetheart?”

That you can pay for his services with sex? Isn’t that the usual implication when it comes to things like this? But that doesn’t seem right.

Even if you should be elated from being so much closer to your goal, it feels like you’re cheating. You’ve been subjected to this seemingly endless chase for so long that in the ideal event that Jeonghan would finally cave and let you sleep with him, this definitely isn’t the way he’d concede. You know him well enough to say that for sure.

So instead of pouncing at your prize like some slobbering mutt, you choose your words carefully—making sure to not step into that conversational bear trap he so obviously set up.

“No idea. You tell me.”

Jeonghan simpers before dusting off his overalls, carding his fingers through his dark hair. He’s wearing it a little longer this summer and you’re really digging the look more than you probably should.

“How about we stop by the roller rink later? My treat. You can pay me back with your company.”

A large scowl immediately roots itself on your face. “Aren’t you already doing too much?” For someone who’s been pestering you like a fly every summertime, you’d like to add but obviously didn’t. “Seriously, let me just pay you for the repair and we’ll be even.”

Adamantly, he shakes his head. “I don’t have any rates for tape repairs, so consider it as a favor. I also mentioned that I was closing up early tonight, remember?”

“Uh, what does that have to do with—”

“Seungcheol begged me to come to the roller rink to teach him how to skate because apparently this lady he’s been eyeing is a figure skater. Poor guy doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her on their first date this weekend,” Jeonghan explains swiftly before chuckling to himself. “He’s kind of unteachable so I thought I’d bring some backup.”

Your face twists with even more confusion. “And what made you think I’m any good at roller skating?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Gut feeling.”

And that’s how you wound up in the town roller rink at eight in the evening when you promised Luna you’d be home to watch The Exorcist on your father’s VHS player.

Jeonghan is awfully difficult to say no to when he’s the one doing all the pestering and even though your roller skating skills are subpar at best, at least you’re not as pitiful as a man named Choi Seungcheol.

“These aren’t even roller blades,” you point out all while stifling a laugh. “What’s the deal, Cheol? Is your center of gravity that shitty?”

“Say that to me when we’re in a taekwondo match, I dare you,” Seungcheol huffs as he grips the metal railing for dear life. “The things I do for a gorgeous girl…”

Jeonghan skates over to his friend with a smirk, tugging on his arm. “Come on, now. You won’t impress your date if you keep ambling by the sides like a spaz.”

In an attempt to become the devil’s advocate, you take Seungcheol’s other arm in your grasp as well. “Yeah. If you weren’t confident about this, why’d you ask her out here? Actually, who on Earth schedules the first date at a roller rink?”

“I wanted her to know that we have common interests!”

“And skating is your common interest?”

“...No, but at least she’d get the idea that I care about what she does for a living.”

With the newfound determination to not embarrass himself in front of the gorgeous figure skater, Seungcheol lets you and Jeonghan teach him the art of not falling on your ass every time he glides forward. This goes on for about thirty or-so minutes until he finally gets the hang of it and is out and about in the rink full of teenagers that are looking at him funny.

This is when you decide to wind down and hang out by the railings as well, watching your student test out if he can do a little spin now that he’s sort of mastered the basics. Unfortunately for Seungcheol, he slips and lands on his back after the attempt—immediately scrambling back to his feet before any of the younger skaters could laugh at him for the mishap.

“Hope you don’t mind that I whisked you off for an impromptu tutoring session.”

You don’t even startle when Jeonghan materializes beside you like he almost always does—his eyes also trained on his poor friend while he practices what he’s been taught. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stare at him with a shake of your head.

“I’m supposed to be marathoning horror movies with my sister, you know,” you chuckle. “Dunno why you asked me to come with you to teach the unteachable, but I’m glad I could help.”

He lets out a quiet laugh of his own. “I just wanted to give you a warm welcome is all. Haven’t seen you in a year.”

“Even if all I do is ask if you want to have sex with me?”

“Hey, all friendships are built on different foundations. Ours just happens to be more unorthodox than the rest,” Jeonghan points out, like it’s common knowledge. “Besides, don’t you think it gives the friendship more spice when one of us keeps asking the other if they want to sleep together?”

You punch him in the shoulder. “You’re so weird.”

“And you still want me to fuck you despite that. I think that says a lot more about you than it does about me.” He grins and your throat constricts with how pretty he looks.

Just before you can open your mouth to dish out another snarky response, the song that comes up on the speakers switches into something familiar—the crowd of skaters immediately erupting into cheers.

“Oooh, Dancing Queen,” Jeonghan marvels as he pushes himself off the railing before yanking your hand. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Can’t let Cheol have all the fun now, can we?”

You’re no dancer but you’ve spent so many nights with your friends at the disco that you can’t really refuse when ABBA says that you can dance and you can jive. It’s a little more challenging when you’re literally wearing roller skates and Yoon Jeonghan is spinning you around while his head is thrown back in laughter, but you can manage,

It feels so strange to be doing this with him. You’ve gotten used to just coming up to Jeonghan to hit on him and get rejected before going about the rest of your day, so you don’t really know the protocol when it comes to fooling around with him in a roller rink.

But instead of psyching yourself out too much, you just let yourself loose in the moment.

It’s…nice. You can feel the music in your veins as you burn the memory of Jeonghan grinning as he twirls you amidst a sea of roller skaters. Something pangs in your chest—a feeling you’ve felt with your other romantic prospects from the past, but never with Jeonghan.

Just when the song is about to end, however, you lose your footing and end up slipping onto the polished wooden floor. It would’ve been less embarrassing if you hadn’t hooked your arm around Jeonghan’s waist to balance yourself, but you both end up toppling into a heap.

“Shit, sorry!” you groan, rubbing your tailbone as you try to collect yourself. Your legs are right on top of Jeonghan’s though, so it proves to be somewhat difficult to get back to your feet without bracing your hands on the ground.

Which is exactly what you end up doing just to keep yourself from face planting.

Jeonghan isn’t able to school his expression fast enough when you straddle his hips in the middle of the roller rink—eyes lit up with surprise as you stammer apology after apology. You really want to fucking stand up but you’re so shaken up by the chain of events that you can’t find the right balance.

“So much for your center of gravity, huh?”

You and Jeonghan both jump at the sound of Seungcheol’s voice—the other man sporting a smirk of his own as he stands over the two of you. Thankfully, instead of simpering at the fact that you got a taste of your own medicine, he offers a hand for you to take—one that you take more gingerly than you meant to.

The three of you eventually hobble back to the waiting lounge together, making jabs at each other’s slip-ups for the night. Hanging out with these two men is just as fun as hanging out with your old friends and you’re glad to know that you’ve found such worthwhile company despite being away for most of the year.

After returning your skates, Jeonghan tells you and Seungcheol that he’s just going on a quick bathroom break and you agreed to wait for him before heading home. Your student then takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

“Hmph. And you thought this wasn’t an ideal spot for a first date.”

Puzzled, you glance at Seungcheol with a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Han,” he continues. “This is your first date, isn’t it? Took him long enough.”

Took him long enough? Seungcheol’s words sound so silly, you actually end up laughing at the foolishness of it all. “What? Jeonghan? Taking me out on a date? You didn’t hit your head while you were practicing, did you?”

“Hey, I might be a newbie, but once I learn, I never forget it,” Seungcheol huffs before crossing his arms. “And, yeah, is it so strange for Han to ask you out? Sure, you’re never really here like half the time—”

“I wouldn’t say half the time. I only ever get short breaks in the summer”

“Hey, summer breaks aren’t short… Okay, maybe they kind of are, but that’s not the point!”

“Whatever your point is, it’s pointless,” you snort. “He always turns me down whenever I ask if he wants to sleep together. How could he possibly want to take me out on a date?”

Seungcheol makes a face. “You’ve been asking him what?”

“...If he wants to sleep together?”

“Well, that’s because you’ve been asking the wrong question!”

“I’m not! Look, that wasn’t always my go-to. The first time we met, I asked if he wanted to go out sometime. He said no. And it’s been a…thing between us for me to constantly ask even if I know he’ll just turn me down.”

“...Doesn’t that just make you pathetic?”

“You know, you’re a lot different when you’re outside the disco.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Anyway, you should really recalibrate the way you’re trying to get with Jeonghan because even if he’s the biggest manwhore I’ve met, when he actually gets serious, he—”

“Now what could you two possibly be talking about?”

Like he always does, Jeonghan waltzes into the conversation with the most opportune timing. He glances at you and his friend curiously as he slings his arms around both of your shoulders—a conspiratorial grin weaseling its way onto his face. “Sounds to me like it’s something interesting.”

“I was just about to tell Seungcheol that you don’t go out with Joshua’s friends, hence the complete impossibility of this being a first date,” you clarify—face heating up with embarrassment at how ridiculous you sound right now. “I mean, would a proper first date include teaching your hopeless friend how to roller skate?”

Seungcheol snorts. “You obviously don’t know what Han considers as a proper first date.”

“But she’s completely right about that specific preference of mine,” Jeonghan agrees without missing a beat. “Now that this is all cleared up, how about we drive her back to her house? It’s getting late.”

That night, you climb under the covers of your bed reeling from that conversation you had with Seungcheol. You still think it’s downright silly for him to assume that Jeonghan took you out on a date when he clearly just sees you as a friend.

Yet when you think about it a bit more, isn’t it more ridiculous for you to still be going at this game you’ve been playing with him for the past three years? Asking a man who’s way out of your league to sleep with you like some hooker on the streets?

The way Jeonghan receives your advances doesn’t help your predicament in the slightest either. Most men would be unnerved by the fact that some woman keeps trying to get in his pants, but Jeonghan practically considers it as a thing that friends do. He simply turns you down without treating you any differently, and you’re starting to second-guess whether he’s just that good of a person or if he’s only keeping you around to amuse himself.

Seungkwan would tell you that you’ve got little to no respect for yourself. Jihoon would just sigh and tell you that he honestly expected better from you, and you wouldn’t fault either of them, really.

Because even when the odds are stacked against you, you’ll always find your way back to Yoon Jeonghan.

THE PRESENT

Much to everyone’s surprise, you’re able to go two straight weeks without seeking out the object of your prolonged affections.

You make plans with anyone and everyone else there is to make plans with—going on a picnic with your sister, helping Jihoon write a song, hitting the arcade with Seungkwan. Anything to keep yourself away from Jeonghan.

Hell, you even agreed to meet Jeon Jungkook in the flesh when Mingyu finally remembered that he set you up with him a month ago.

First impressions last and Jungkook definitely blew all your expectations out of the water when he pulled up in front of your house with a shiny Harley Davidson that boasted far more horsepower than your father’s old minivan. He’s the textbook definition of a badboy if his piercings and full sleeve of tattoos are anything to go by.

But for someone who hasn’t even met you before, he was thoughtful enough to bring flowers for your mother, a bottle of wine for your father, and Stephen King’s newest release for Luna when he arrived at your door with a boyish smile.

When Jihoon caught wind of the news, he immediately came over to your house to confirm if it’s actually true—a completely drastic shift from your usual habit of coming over at his.

Apparently, your mother ran into him at the grocery store and fessed up all about this wonderful biker who took Y/N out on a candle-lit dinner at the only decent restaurant in town to your best friend. It’s painfully obvious that Jihoon mirrors her excitement when you tell him that yes, your first date with Jungkook actually went better than expected.

You thought Jungkook was the type of guy that your best friend would avoid at all costs. Jihoon hates loud noises that don’t contribute to his musical creativity and your newest flame’s motorcycle would definitely be an issue if your best friend ever hears him rev it up.

And yet when you finally introduce them to each other, they hit it off at lightning speed. Turns out Jungkook was also a music major when he was in college and you find yourself lost in a sea of jargon as the pair engrosses themselves in a conversation regarding their mutual interests.

Jungkook gets along swimmingly with your other friends too.

You should’ve trusted Mingyu’s judgment when he first told you that his friend can blend into any circle he chucks himself into because now you can only watch in awe as he and Sonyoung duke it out at your usual disco—exchanging high fives when the song on the jukebox comes to an end and the rest of the crowd cheers at them from the sides.

“How’re you liking our little town so far?” you ask when he returns to the booth you’ve claimed for the two of you, giggling when he leans down to press a kiss on your cheek.

“You seriously downplay this place too much,” Jungkook sighs, unable to suppress the grin on his face. “Sure, there aren’t a lot of things to do, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s as passionate about dance battles as Soonyoung over there. Joshua, Seokmin and Seungkwan are brilliant company, too. Oh, and how could I forget about Jihoon? I’m seriously pissed because Mingyu didn’t introduce me to them sooner.”

Your bottom lip swells into a pout. “Only them, not me?”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh that makes your skin tingle, leaning closer enough that you can feel his breath on your face. When he smiles, his lip ring glints in the colorful lights of the disco.

“Baby, if we’ve met any sooner, you’ll probably get sick of me.”

“And why is that, Mr. Jeon?” you whisper.

He hums for a moment, tracing the outline of your lips with the heat of his gaze. “I’ve been told that I’m a very passionate lover. You might not be able to handle it.”

“And who’s to say you’re the judge of that?”

“Well, we can get out of here so you can see for yourself, no?”

Your face heats up at the notion of what he’s trying to imply. It’s a little silly because you’ve spent so much of your time practically throwing yourself at Jeonghan that when another man expresses interest in you, you suddenly clam up out of embarrassment.

Jeonghan…

Even if you’re being pinned in place by Jungkook’s weightful stare, your gaze still goes over his shoulder—straight to the bar where you know he’s been watching you.

The moment your gang of loud friends piled into the disco one after the other, you were quick to pick up on Jeonghan’s presence as he spoke to Seungcheol at the bar and from the way he snapped his head in the direction of your group, you like to think he’s just as privy to yours too.

Especially when his eyes zeroed in on Jungkook’s arm around your waist.

This time around, instead of hounding the guy with the same question you’ve been asking for years, you do your best to ignore his existence altogether. It was easier than you expected because Jungkook has the ability to make you forget about everything else when you’re in his company. He’s charming and sweet in ways that don’t leave you second guessing his intentions. The man wants you and he needs you to know that in whatever way he can manage.

But even if you’ve got a handsome badboy under your spell, Jungkook’s charms don’t work on you with the same intensity as a single gaze from Jeonghan.

He isn’t smiling at you like he usually is—lips nearly twisted into a frown as he watches Jungkook crowd you in your shared booth. While most of your body language would suggest that you’re receiving your beau’s affections openly, the fact that your eyes are trained on the man you’ve been trying your best to get over would tell Jeonghan another story entirely.

Which is what ultimately makes you let out a breathy laugh before lightly pushing Jungkook off of you.

“Easy there, tiger. We’ve been dating for, what? A month?” you remind him with a somewhat forced smile. “You might be one of the two hottest guys I’ve met in my life, but I still believe in the art of taking your time.”

“The two hottest guys?” Jungkook parrots, amusement coloring his face as he leans back on the leather upholstery of your seat. “Who’s the other one then?”

You force yourself not to look at Jeonghan so you wouldn’t give yourself away. After all, you haven’t lost yet. It’s perfectly normal to still think about the man you may or may not have been in love with for years when you’re in the middle of getting over him. Whatever you and Jungkook have going isn’t a lost cause just yet.

“No one important,” you insist before tugging him back to his feet . “How about you come dance with me instead of asking silly questions, loverboy?”

A hint of skepticism crosses his face for just a moment before he concedes, letting you drag him back to the dancefloor as you try your damnedest to ignore the way Jeonghan’s gaze never strayed far from you for the rest of the night.

Summer is almost coming to an end and your boss has already mailed you some documents containing the details of your next job. You read through them while you’re bundled up in blankets in the living room with Jihoon, who seems more excited about it than you are.

“You’re going to Paris?” your best friend gawks. “That’s actually insane. I thought only the filthy rich could go there in this economy.”

“Well, if you land yourself some work in a pretty well-off company, you can gain more benefits than you’d otherwise expect,” you chuckle. “How about you come with me? You can go busking in front of The Louvre or something. Then the Parisians would discover just how talented one Lee Jihoon actually is.”

“Or I could get arrested by the Parisian police force.” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but I am not as ambitious as you are.”

“Hmph. Suit yourself then.”

While the two of you are busy planning an itinerary for the entirety of your trip, the telephone rings down the hall and you get up to answer it.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jungkook’s smooth voice rings in your ears after asking the caller’s identity, making your face warm with how flustered you are. “Heard tonight was best friend’s night so I wasn’t really supposed to bother you, but Gyu wanted to throw me a surprise birthday party and he was wondering if you and Jihoon want to come with.”

“It’s not a surprise anymore if you’re the one inviting guests though?” you point out with a laugh. “And your birthday isn’t until a few days.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but one thing about Mingyu is that he can’t keep a secret for the life of him. What’s more is that we already have dinner plans for my special day, remember?” Jungkook sighs. “Anyway, are you two going to show up or am I gonna be miserable the entire night because you’re not here?”

“Where even is here, Jungkook?”

“At the disco, where else? Mingyu rented out the entire place for the occasion.”

“Hmm, maybe you should start dating Mingyu instead.”

“God, no. So are you coming or not?”

It’s funny how you don’t even hesitate when you answer, “Sure thing. I’ll go tell Jihoon about it.”

“Aw, baby, you sure know how to make the birthday boy happy. See you soon.”

You hang up on Jungkook after bidding him a farewell of your own, heart beating just a little bit faster at the exchange. You know you’re not obligated to come to his not-so surprise birthday party since you already made plans with Jihoon to marathon a couple of movies, but even if you and Jungkook aren’t really a thing just yet, you still feel like you should at least be there to celebrate alongside your friends.

Jihoon agrees to it without a hitch—god knows how much he adores Jungkook. And as the two of you are getting ready to go out again, an idea pops into your head.

“You can go ahead of me to the disco. I’ll just go buy Jungkook a present first.”

Your best friend glances at you, confused. “I can accompany you, you know. It’s no big deal.”

But despite his kind offer, you shake your head adamantly. “I really want this to be kept between me and him, Ji. Is that alright?”

“Ugh. Fine, whatever.”

There’s some truth to what you’ve told Jihoon, but everyone knows that only relaying some of the truth is as good as lying.

You tug your jacket tighter around your shoulders as you stand in front of a familiar record store. You’ve been to and from this place so often in the past that you’ve practically memorized Jeonghan’s operating hours by heart.

You’re going to prove to yourself that you’re over that phase in your life. Once you buy a vinyl by this one bossa nova artist that Jungkook really likes, you’ll kiss your once-prominent obsession with Jeonghan goodbye.

Not like it’s difficult, right? Jungkook has always been sweet and reassuring where Jeonghan gave you nothing but uncertainty and countless instances asking yourself, what am I even doing? It’s practically a no brainer to choose the former over the latter.

You suck in a deep breath. The thundering of your heart is too loud to ignore, but before you’re overcome with nerves, you step straight inside.

It’s empty like it always is when closing time is just a few minutes away. Jeonghan’s already mopping up the floor of his shop—something that surprised you the first time because you didn’t think people who came from old money actually knew how to do chores.

You also notice that he’s already changed out of his denim overalls—already donned in an outfit that he would no doubt be wearing to the disco right after he closes up shop. A velvet maroon shirt with a few buttons undone that’s tucked inside a pair of black trousers. Before you can catch yourself salivating over how fucking good he looks in that outfit, his gaze flickers to you in an instant.

“Hm? Been a while since you’ve dropped by, sweetheart,” he comments before stuffing the mop back in a supply closet and sanitizing his hands. “You’ve been busy with that boyfriend of yours, haven’t you?”

So he has noticed. “You could say that.”

He nods before stepping over to you, that stupidly disarming grin ever-present on his pretty face. “Hm? Is that trouble in paradise I sense? Don’t tell me he hasn’t bothered to put a label on things. What a waste.”

You planned on making this gruesome exchange with Jeonghan swift, but you completely forgot that he has a knack for getting under people’s nerves when he feels like it. “Why would it be a waste when we’re just taking our time? Besides, I’m not here to talk to you about me and Jungkook. I’m here to buy something.”

“For your little badboy? Now what could he possibly know about the finer things in life? That man looks like he wouldn’t even be able to play a triangle.”

Just when you managed to spot a record that you’re certain Jungkook has mentioned to you in passing, Jeonghan’s uncalled for words have you scowling at him. “Really? I know your family’s loaded and all, but you never really struck me as the pretentious type, Jeonghan. Mind you, Jungkook is a music major, and that’s low, even for you.

He simpers with folded arms, one foot tapping impatiently on the linoleum. “Well, forgive me, sweetheart, I don’t think I can react with my usual finesse when someone else is encroaching on what belongs to me.”

You don’t even think it’s possible, but your scowl only deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ve always been mine, no?”

…How he has the guts to tell you that after every single instance he’s rejected you is unfathomable. You do not want to have this conversation right now, so you quickly pluck Jungkook’s present from the assortment of vinyls before storming off to the cashier—mentally cursing Jeonghan for being so self-sufficient that he doesn’t see the need to hire other people but himself. Now you’ll be forced to deal with him until you’re finished with your purchase.

“How can you stomach buying your little badboy a birthday gift when we both know your heart is still tethered to me, sweetheart?” Jeonghan taunts you from behind as he shuffles towards the counter. “I thought this was just some ploy to get me jealous, but you’re acting a bit too realistically for comfort. Have you forgotten who you were trying to get with for the past few years?

“Have you forgotten who you’ve rejected time and time again?” you deadpan with a glare. “You made it clear whenever I asked that you weren’t interested. You know, Jihoon and the others kept calling you a player, so I never really understood why you never tried to get with me—someone who’s literally throwing herself at your feet every summer.”

Jeonghan lets out an incredulous laugh. “Why do you think I turned you down each time? You’re always asking if I want to have sex with you, but have you ever considered that maybe I don’t just think of you as another notch on my belt? That I actually wanted to get to know you past the sexual pretense?”

His words are quick to turn your heart into stone. “Then why didn’t you say that to me back then? Why are you only coming clean about this when I’m finally ready to move on with someone else?”

“That’s because I like you, Y/N,” he sighs, jaw clenching as if he has the right to be more frustrated than you are. “I didn’t want to just sleep with you. I wanted us to be friends first before I pursued you, but then you went on about asking if I wanted to fuck each and every time you’re home. I was just being careful because I don’t want to give anyone the power to trample on my feelings.”

“So you thought it was okay to trample on mine?”

The exasperation on Jeonghan’s face seemingly melts away with that simple response. You’re still staring at him with fire in your eyes—the kind he’s used to admiring from afar whenever you’re feeling your emotions a little more intensely than usual. But for once in his life, Jeonghan is unable to formulate some clever retort.

“Just fucking scan my vinyl so I can leave,” you grumble before sliding the record across the counter. “If you don’t have anything worthwhile to say to me, just don’t say anything at all.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Your whole body freezes up when you feel Jeonghan standing directly behind you, caging you between his tall frame and the counter. Both of his lean arms are braced against the wooden surface and you make a mistake of whirling around to face him.

“M-Mean what?” you stammer, suddenly losing whatever conviction your voice once held because of his goddamn eyes. They look so pretty even if they’re pleading for something you can’t put your finger on.

“That you’ve already moved on with him?” he murmurs. “If it’s true then…you can forget that this conversation ever happened. Go celebrate his birthday and make him your boyfriend or whatever.”

When Jeonghan leans closer, his lips brush the shell of your ear—making you shiver with anticipation. “But if you think you’d still choose me after all, then I promise you that I won’t waste your time anymore. I’m ready to own up to what I feel about you even if I deserve none of your reciprocation at this point.”

He’s right. He doesn’t deserve even an ounce of what you would’ve been willing to give before you saw reason. Jihoon was smart to come to the conclusion that Jeonghan only kept you around to entertain himself, but once losing you became a possibility, he suddenly put on this show of buttering you up.

Admitting things he should’ve told you years ago. Telling you he likes you only when you’ve already got your eyes set on someone else.

The logical thing to do is turn him down and walk away from Yoon Jeonghan once and for all. You could do it—you could leave the convoluted history the two of you shared in the past. You’ve already been doing it with Jungkook for the past month. But no matter how much you convince yourself otherwise, there’s a singular truth that you won’t be able to escape:

You’ll always find your way back to Yoon Jeonghan.

The next few minutes are a blur of desperate touches and equally desperate kisses. You don’t remember when exactly you lunged in for the kill, but the next thing you know, Jeonghan has you propped up on the counter of his store as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders and hikes your skirt further up your thighs.

“Wanted you for so long,” Jeonghan sighs against your lips and you feel like he’s exercising active restraint so he wouldn’t rip the delicate fabric of your skirt. “But I needed you to take me seriously so you wouldn’t think you’re just another girl I slept with.”

You bark out a condescending laugh before reclaiming his lips, shoving your tongue down his throat until he’s groaning into you—fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You obviously didn’t take me seriously with how much you fucked with my head.”

“I wasn’t fucking with your head, sweetheart. I was just biding my time.”

“So the thing that finally got you to crack is seeing another guy get his hands on me,” you point out with a quiet chuckle, trying not to moan when his lips trace a scorching path down the skin of your neck. “I didn’t take you to be the jealous type. If I knew, I would’ve paraded Mingyu inside your shop ages ago.”

“Hm?” He hums—a noncommittal noise that has you shivering beneath his touch anyways. “Are you saying that you would fuck Mingyu too? When you’re already cozying up to his best friend? You’re quite greedy, huh?”

You let out a quiet whimper when you feel him press two fingers against your clothed core—wanting him, needing him. “J-Jeonghan, someone outside might see…”

“Then we better put on a show, right, sweetheart?”

The fact that Jeonghan calling you sweetheart incites a more visceral reaction out of you compared to Jungkook calling you baby makes a clump of guilt fester in your chest. The vinyl you’re supposed to get for him as a present sits idly a few inches away, but all of it is forgotten once Jeonghan reminds you of what you really want.

It’s fucking humiliating how your cunt gushes at his words. Jeonghan is clearly pleased with the mess he finds between your thighs after pushing your underwear to the side. You curl yourself into his chest, twitching every time his fingers graze your clit. He laughs, low and dangerous in your ear all while he lathers your slit in your own essence.

“I’d love to take my time and eat you out right here, but I don’t think I have the patience just yet,” he whispers before teasing your entrance with the occasional dip of his fingers. “I’ll make you come with my mouth some other time. For now, I think I just need to see you crying on my fingers and my cock.”

His crooked digits slide into you with perfect ease, stretching out your gummy walls so you’d be able to take something more. You cling onto Jeonghan like a lifeline as he murmurs a string of filthy musings into your ear.

“Has your little badboy finger-fucked you this good, sweet thing?” he rasps. “In fact, has he even kissed you?”

“H-He’s kissed me once,” you admit, the walls of your cunt clenching around his intrusive fingers as you try to recall how you and Jungkook shared your first real kiss in the parking lot of the movie theater. “But I wished it was you instead…”

“Really now?” Jeonghan chuckles, clearly emboldened by your honesty. “You still think of me even when you’re with someone else, hm? Well you’re in luck sweetheart.”

“I do the same thing, too.”

Your eyes flutter with pleasure when he curls his fingers inside your tight channel, his free hand toying with your clit with each pass he makes. Jeonghan praises you for spreading your legs so prettily for him, for being his good girl and no one else’s. Every word he breathes into your ears only makes you wetter by the second and you fear that each time he plunges his digits into your heat, someone outside would hear the squelching flesh.

“J-Jeonghan,” you whimper, thighs quivering with the need for release. “Let me come, please. I wanna come on your fingers. I need it.”

Of course, your newfound lover makes it a point to laugh at your desperate plea, licking his lips as he draws tight circles around your sensitive nub. “Just a few moments ago, you were afraid of being caught getting off like this. Now you want me to make you come?”

You nod vigorously—uncaring for how pathetic it would make you seem. “Yes, I want you so much… You’ll give it to me, won’t you?”

Ah, he’s always known you were a vixen. Those days when you’d purposely dress up wearing the skimpiest outfits just to get his attention were one of the hardest. In fact, the entire ordeal of keeping his hands off you when you were offering yourself up so willingly was one of the hardest things he’s done in his life.

But Jeonghan supposes that he can still reap the benefits of his patience—even if that patience was snapped in two when you dared to think another man deserved to have you.

“Of course I’ll give it to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs sweetly before planting the sloppiest kiss on your lips. “Come for me if you want my cock in you. You can do that, right?”

You screw your eyes shut at his affirmation to focus on getting yourself to the pinnacle of gratification. Jeonghan has slowed the pace of the fingers thrusting in and out of your messy cunt and decided to zero in on your clit. You’re twitching and thrashing in his grasp, moaning his name so prettily, he wishes he could snap a photo to preserve the memory for life.

You come undone on his fingers with a breathless sigh, nearly collapsing on top of the counter from how boneless you felt in the aftermath. But Jeonghan is quick to coil an arm around your waist, peppering your face with kisses as he keeps himself from grinning too wide.

“So good for me. So perfect—my perfect fucking girl.”

The lasciviousness dripping from his words urges you to spread your thighs for him—eyes glazed over with lust as he undoes the zipper of his trousers. You have to keep yourself from gasping once he takes out his impressive length—fully engorged with how much you’ve been teasing each other over the past half hour.

Jeonghan fists his cock before sliding the head across your oversensitive clit, but you don’t voice out any complaints—already desperate to have him again despite having just recovered from your last orgasm.

He doesn’t wait for a verbal confirmation, doesn’t waste his time on any more preamble. Jeonghan simply hooks your thighs around his elbows and sinks his cock into your tight channel with his bottom lip caged between his teeth. You’re a lot less reserved with the noises you make—openly crying out his name once he buries himself to the hilt.

You feel him everywhere—inside you, on your skin, on your face, in your heart. Jeonghan is heaving deeply as he lets you get used to him and when he flashes you that lazy smile that started everything, your chest seizes with something not shy of glee.

You have him. You finally have him.

And from the way that smile you’ve always loved morphs into a smirk, you have a feeling he’ll make sure you engrave this moment into your mind.

“We could’ve done this sooner,” Jeonghan sighs with the first drag of his hips, loving the way you writhe underneath him when he plunges his cock back into your slick heat. “If only we just got together like normal people, I could’ve fucked you on every surface of this store years ago.”

“If only you didn’t reject me every single time like some self-absorbed brat.”

“You sound pretty brave for someone who’s already in tears on my cock, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jeonghan murmurs something along the lines of cheeky little thing before surrendering his grip on one of your thighs in exchange for the space to reach for your face. There, he wipes the moisture collecting in the corner of your eye with his thumb, a self-satisfied look settling on his face.

“Maybe you do now.”

He doesn’t waste anymore time after that—fully aware that though he’s already drawn the shutters before you came, he hasn’t had the opportunity to lock the main entrance yet. The possibility of someone walking in on you getting fucked to an inch of your life on the countertop are all too real and Jeonghan has no plans on getting arrested for public indecency when he just grew the balls to tell you how he’s felt all this time.

“You’re fucking dripping for me,” your lover rasps into your neck, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake as your poor cunt takes a beating. “All dressed up for someone else but here you are stuffed full of my cock. Tell me, who is it that you really want?”

“You.” The mewl that follows your abrupt answer is music to his ears. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Hannie. F-Fuck! Right there, please.”

He drags your hips closer to the edge, resuming a secure grip on your thighs to keep you balanced as he rams his thick cock into you. You throw your head back in bliss, uncaring for how the bruises he’s kissed into your skin sting with pain. The pleasure he’s sowing between your legs eclipses any sort of ache that can deter you from losing yourself in the moment.

You hook your legs around Jeonghan’s waist to keep him close—arms slung around his neck as you pull him down for a kiss. Your lover responds in kind, moving his mouth in perfect sync with yours as if to make up for all the years you could’ve spent in each other’s arms.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs against your lips, eyes burning with pure, unadulterated desire. “So pretty and perfect for me.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re balls deep inside me,” you try to scoff but it melts into another breathless moan when Jeonghan angles his hips just a bit differently and has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“You talk big for someone who can’t handle being a little roughed up,” he teases. “Now hush and take my cock like the good girl you are.”

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar pressure in the pit of your stomach—like a balloon expanding and expanding until you’re filled to the brim with the pleasure he’s giving you on a silver platter. You whimper beneath him, pressing your mouth against the cut of his jaw as you murmur about how close you are.

“Fuck, I need you to feel you come around me, sweetheart,” he moans. “Come on my cock—let me feel your cunt squeezing it out of me.”

You don’t know if you’re just that high strung, or if you’ve waited for this for so long, your body just responds to his whims. But whatever the reason, the most skin-tingling, toe-curling orgasm washes over you like a storm surge—pure lightning skidding up the length of your spine as you surrender yourself to the height of euphoria.

“That’s it,” Jeonghan goads, fucking you through your orgasm as he chases after his own. “You feel so good around me, my perfect Y/N.”

As you drift in and out of coherence, you vaguely pick up on the fact that Jeonghan isn’t wearing any protection—the two of you overcome by your need to have each other to think things through. But as his cock plunges over and over into your soiled cunt, you find yourself uncaring for the consequences of your recklessness.

But Jeonghan continues to surprise you by using all his strength to disentangle your legs around his waist—pulling out just in time for those spurts of cum to splatter all over your rumpled skirt. He hisses between his teeth as he pumps his cock into completion, his white hot release staining your clothes in a way that you’ll probably still forgive him for with how well he fucked you tonight.

"Can't get you pregnant when your career's ahead of you," he chuckles and you can only punch him in the chest in response.

The silence that settles moments after is more deafening than it should be, but you’re no means unsettled by it.

Not when Jeonghan still has that look in his eyes.

When he kisses you again, it feels like the stars and the planets have aligned for everything to fall into place. He smiles against your lips as if he’s just as relieved to have found you when you thought all hope was lost and it makes you recall any other time you’ve been more in love with someone else in your life.

In the end, you come up empty handed.

“I’ll clean you up and close up the store,” Jeonghan murmurs. “I need to take you home with me because I am nowhere near done with you.”

And who are you to say no to that?

“Paris, huh?”

Jeonghan muses right after he’s finished cleaning you up—diligently scrubbing at what three more rounds of sex at his apartment have done to your poor body. You answer him with a quiet hum, burrowing deeper into both the warmth of his blankets and the heat of his chest.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be stationed there for a better part of the year,” you tell him softly, tracing the small trail of freckles on his sternum. “It’s going to be way different than what I’m used to, but new experiences are always welcome.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, you don’t have any reason to be afraid of Paris to begin with. The only thing that might get in the way of you having a good time is the language barrier.”

“You talk like you’ve been there before.”

“Been there before? Sweetheart, I lived in Paris before I moved here… Why are you looking at me like that?”

You mutter a string of curses under your breath before pouting at him. “I keep forgetting that you and Joshua are a couple of trust fund babies. Of course I’d be surprised if you dropped a bomb like that.”

Jeonghan chuckles before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss—deepening it until you’re hooking your thigh across his hip and moaning into his mouth again. Your lover chuckles at your eagerness before he pulls away, a string of saliva obscenely connecting your lips.

“I do kind of miss it there,” he admits sincerely, but you can’t pay the admission much mind when his fingers are trailing the inside of your thighs again. “Maybe I should go on a quick getaway for a while.”

“What, so you can go fuck me in Paris, too?”

You do your best to bite down your whimpers when he lathers his fingers with the wetness between your thighs, making it a point to rub your still sensitive clit in slow, lazy circles. The vibrations of Jeonghan’s laughter travel across your skin and when he presses a kiss on the corner of your lips, you’re not sure how to feel—endeared by the sweet gesture or embarrassed by how quickly he’s winding you up.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to be in full hardness again and you don’t even resist him when Jeonghan eases his length back into your tight hole. He sighs against the crook of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth as he slides inside you languidly. When your hips are flush together as he bottoms out, your chest swells with pride when you hear him breathe out a shuddering sigh.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Can’t believe I waited for so long to have you like this.”

“Now if only you said yes the first time I asked you to sleep with me,” you chuckle, trying not to moan at the feeling of his cock pulsating inside you. “You could’ve railed me in the bathroom of Cheol’s disco and he never would’ve known.”

“Oh, he’d definitely know,” Jeonghan chuckles dryly as he presses a kiss along your jaw. “But thanks for the visual, I think I just got even harder. We should do that when you get back.”

“Didn’t you say something about going on a quick getaway so you can fuck me in Paris, too?”

“You’re the one making plans here, sweetheart. Not me. But if you’re so hell-bent on taking my cock in the bathroom of some random Parisian disco instead, then I suppose I can make the proper arrangements,” your lover appeases you with a lazy smile. “Maybe I’ll have Jihoon and your friends watch after the store while I’m gone.”

“He might be your regular, but when he finds out that we’re screwing around, he’ll probably torch the entire building.”

Jeonghan pauses for a second. “That reminds me, won’t they be looking for you, sweetheart? From the way you were dressed earlier, it looked like you were headed somewhere else after buying that stupid badboy his birthday present. This is quite the detour, don’t you think?”

When Jeonghan brings it up, it takes you a few seconds to process that…fuck.

“Yeah…” you groan. “I was headed to the disco for Jungkook’s surprise party.”

He hums. “And here you are warming my cock. That boyfriend of yours is going to be heartbroken, you know?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you grumble, mewling when Jeonghan snaps his hips into yours to take you by surprise. “But…I guess it still sucks that I lead him on like that.”

“I suggest,” Jeonghan starts before pulling himself back again only to rut into you so hard, you’re surging forward on the bed. “That you give him a call in the morning—tell him that you’re fine and nothing’s happened to you. Oh, and tell him that you actually have a boyfriend now.”

Despite your senses being overloaded by how good his cock is stretching you mid-conversation, you still manage to look up at Jeonghan with withering surprise. “I do?”

“Sweet girl’s gone dumb on my cock, huh?” Jeonghan laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead that has you melting from the contact. “From here on out, I’m your boyfriend. Some fucker from another city has no business flirting with you when you’re with me.”

In a split second of clarity, you roll your eyes at him. “I still think it’s stupid that you only went after me after I found someone else. You’re a terrible person.”

“But you still love me anyway, hm?”

You do. You think you’ve loved Jeonghan even longer than you first realized it.

Loving him and losing him even if you had neither to love nor lose is a vicious pattern you’ve cycled through for the past four summers. You’re perfectly aware that actions have consequences and what you chose to do with Jeonghan now would definitely jeopardize everything you’ve built for yourself.

But you can think about what Jihoon and Jungkook and Seungkwan and everyone else has to say about this some other time.

For now, you’re just going to focus on how good your boyfriend splits you open on his cock.

“And how are you so sure about that?”

Jeonghan shrugs before crowding you against the bed, a no-good smirk plastered on his pretty face. It gives you hope that maybe—just maybe—the cycle has finally been broken.

“I dunno. Gut feeling.”

⟢ end notes: you're finally at the end of it! thank you so much for reading through this brain fart that has been decaying in my drive since july :') i'd also like to extend my thanks to jj, rj and zeta specifically because if it weren't for them i would've lost every and all direction for this fic altogether and i might've actually dropped out of the collab for real (i am literally 4 going 5 days late!!) leave a like, reblog with your thoughts, or yell at me in the replies -- idk !! it's just that this might be one of the last fics you'll read from me for a while, so i'd appreciate the feedback now more than ever T T that said, do check out everyone's works from the collab as well!! they've all created such wonderful stories with the given theme <3 you def won't regret it!

this is part of the svthub 70s;teen collab!

#svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

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fayes-fics · 2 months ago

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Kinktober: Anal Beads

Kinktober 2024 Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, anal play, anal fingering, anal beads, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, creampie.

Word Count: 2.0k (drabble hahah)

Author’s Note: Set in the same world as THIS sex toys Kinktober from two years ago. This is filth. Not betaed. Enjoy! <3

“How do you like your present, birthday girl?” Anthony asks smokily.

His left hand spiders a soothing pattern over your lumbar spine as you lay prone across his lap, naked, the expensive weave of his bespoke tailored trousers tickling the soft skin of your belly.

You are incapable of words; just a wavering moan in response, the metal ball a cold weight inside you. And this is only the smallest and first of four.

This is one of his gifts for you. Last year it was a glass dildo modelled upon his cock. This year it's anal beads: high-quality stainless steel, linked by a chain, four beads, each getting progressively larger. At the tail end, a study ring to pull on.

His right hand has on a latex glove, and his lubricated fingers swirl around your bottom, preparing you for the next as you take deep, calming breaths, your body clinging to his invasion so tightly. You can feel the gust of his breath across your spine as he concentrates on preparing you, slow and steady. This is the first time you have tried such a toy, and it is only him you would trust to do such.

“Ready?” His question is hopeful but patient.

“Yes…” you sigh, trying to relax your whole body as you feel cold metal upon your tight hole, then a stretch as he pushes the metal with two of his fingers. With a hiss your body accepts the slightly larger bead, closing up around the chain.

Anthony’s other hand pats your bottom cheek gently. “Well done, halfway there. How do you feel?”

“So very full already….” you confess with a shaky breath, getting used to the odd but not unpleasant sensation.

“I promise it will all be worth it,” he encourages, his voice rough. “When I fuck you with these in place, you will come so hard, you will see stars….”

That filthy promise has you squirming across his lap, pressing your flushed face into his sofa cushion, a little trickle of dampness escaping your pussy, so very eager for what he pledges, so much so there is a tart taste in your mouth.

“More, Anthony,” you exhale, pleading tacitly.

“Oh, you are so perfect,” he stumbles, swirling two fingers within you, pressing those beads already in you deeper so you groan softly.

There is a pause, and although the flick of the bottle lid is warning, you still jump a fraction as a cool trickle of lube lands right onto your puckered skin. His fingers withdraw again, and you hear Anthony coating the next. Your fingers curl into the edge of the cushion as you await its girth, burying your forehead into its pillowiness, trying to maintain your steady breathing. You whimper as the pressure starts. This bead is not yet as wide as his cock, that is the last one, but it still feels sizeable, and you feel your body fighting his steady push.

“Relax, sweet girl, let it in…” he tutors patiently, his free hand rubbing the divots of your pelvis.

You take a long exhale and relax everything you can, and the bead pops into your body with a relieving sensation.

“I feel so full, Anthony…” you gust, muffled slightly into his sofa.

“You are doing so, so well; just one more, and you will be ready for me…” he murmurs, lifting his hips so the erection straining in his clothing chafes your belly button. “I am so very ready for you.”

Your clit throbs, almost a reflex to the feel of his rigid cock bumping your body at this point. Again, two of his fingers open you up, pushing the metal deeper, clacking into the ones before and plumbing new depths within you. You curse gently but can't deny it feels good in a completely different way. A mass you can feel resting against your pussy wall. More lube coats your skin; he rolls it around the area liberally, then he spends time twisting his fingers within you, opening you up further, the drag of his knuckles around your ring of muscle making you somehow more desperate for him to fuck you.

“Now?” his voice gossamer delicate as you nod, tentatively tilting your hips in silent acquiescence.

The size of this last one has you letting out a noise, seemingly neverending, as it opens you wider and wider until you are panting lightly, a vice grip on the edge of a throw cushion.

“You can do it, my girl,” Anthony lauds, and you can tell he is holding back from forcing too quickly, a quake in his hand, the words exhaled from behind gritted teeth.

Just as you feel certain your body cannot take it, the pressure subsides, the broadest part of the bead enters your channel, and you breathe out. Now, your body feels so utterly invaded. There is a snap of the latex glove off Anthony’s hand; he balls it up and tosses it across the room towards the bin. Then that powdered, clean hand runs up your spine into your hair.

“Well done, my darling girl,” he praises, massaging your scalp. Just as you start to purr and lean into his comforting motions, he leans in and whispers hotly against your cheek: “Now get up so you can ride me.”

Your insides turn molten, and your heat pounds at the very thought. So, with his assistance, you slowly clamber out of his lap to stand, the beads an unfamiliar solidity deep within you, making you a touch unsteady, distracted, the little ring at the end of the chain bouncing against the back of your thighs as you straighten up.

“Turn around,” Anthony pleads, voice suddenly tight and hoarse. “Bend over and show me your beautiful bottom while I undress.”

Obediently, you lean forward, using your hands on your knees as a balance point, the strangest sensation of the beads jostling within you as you do.

Behind you, you hear him growl and the shucking of clothing as he fights to get as naked as you, still perched upon his sofa.

“Fuck… you look so fucking good,” he groans, sounding almost winded.

You nearly lose your precarious balance at how feral he sounds; your toes curl hard into his plush area rug.

“Turn back around,” he requests roughly, and you do so without hesitation.

It’s the sight that always makes your mouth water: Anthony, completely naked, leaning back, one arm slung along the back of the sofa, the other squeezing his beautiful cock, standing proud of his body.

“Alright, my girl, come on board…” he counsels with a challenging quirk of an eyebrow.

Gingerly, you climb into his lap, facing him. That peculiar, arousing weight in your bottom makes you take a few puffed breaths as you widen your stance. Your thighs slide on either side of his, his leg hair tickling your inner thighs as you settle, and his arms encircle you, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss.

“Ready to ride?” he tempts, right into your mouth as your tongues parry.

“I… I think so,” you hedge, realising this will be like nothing you have ever felt before.

“Take it slow,” he advises gently.

You nod and shuffle forward in his lap, reaching down to grasp his cock, so hot and steely and guide him towards your body, a flutter of nerves deep in your belly.

Just the tip of his cock slips inside your soaked pussy, and your eyes fly wide open, gaze snapping to his, the feeling of complete fullness just this side of painful but so enchanting at the same time.

“Oh, your beautiful face,” he chuckles adoringly, both hands moving to cup your jaw.

His praise has you sinking further and groaning loudly, biting your lip at the intensity, feeling his cock jostling the beads in your bottom. It feels like an age as you sink inch by inch, each second a new ripple of novelty, your body stretching in ways you never conceived of prior. It feels so mind-blowing you don't even have words, just panted noises and teeth sinking into your bottom lip. By the time you are sat fully upon him, you know you are so widely stretched you will come soon, your engorged clit tickled by his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

“Darling girl, I want you to come so many times tonight,” his velvety promise has you clenching around his cock, and he groans throatily, burying his forehead into your shoulder, his hands flexing on your hips.

“I’m so close already….” you confess quietly into his hair, already feeling overwhelmed without moving, a fluttering in your core that you know signals it won’t take much.

“Use me, darling…” he offers, his fingers encouraging you to circle and flex your hips, your clit catching perfectly against his body as you do. Those beads and his cock move within you in ways that have you clutching at him, gasping. “Oh, that’s it…” he smirks. “I can feel those beads cramming my underside, sweet girl; you are so very full up… do you love it?” There’s a tinge of desperation in his words as you start to flex yourself upon him, frottaging your clit against his root, covering his hands at your waist, signalling your want for him to hold you down, a clamping pressure you need as you climb higher breathily.

“I love it, fuck Anthony, this feels so good,” you moan unbidden, selfishly chasing that bliss tendrils of it wrapping around your edges, blotting everything out except the need coursing in your veins.

He growls at your words and actions, holding you down on his cock as you flex and rub on him, his mouth finding yours wanting to suck the breathy noises you make into his lungs.

“You are a goddess,” he exhaults and that tips you over the edge.

A shudder races up your spine as you cry out his name and break, collapsing forward onto him, your pussy convulsing hard, his breath a staccato in your ear as you squeeze his cock relentlessly in waves, your entire being wracked with little earthquakes your mind floating far away, a tingle in every corner of your being.

“That was amazing…” he stutters, still rock hard buried in you, the beads in your bottom just the most delicious addition. A tight fullness that you’ve always craved.

I want to be fucked just like this. Always.

“It would be my pleasure,” he growls, taking you into his arms and tipping you over onto his coffee table, still inside you, as you belatedly realise your intoxicated thoughts were uttered out loud.

The cool glass surface is a balm for your tacky, heated skin. But it’s nothing compared to the feeling of Anthony withdrawing slowly and then sliding back into your soaked channel, groaning words of how amazing you feel for him, you moaning at the beads pressing your spine and crushing his cock against the front wall of your pussy. Your hands shoot out for purchase around the edge of the table. A silent signal for him to have no mercy, a tart taste on your tongue that is pure wreckless abandon, a yen for him to take you so hard you feel altered in some way.

“That’s it, hold on tight, my girl,” he warns low and dangerous, pinning your thigh obscenely wide open, your toes curling at the portent in his words.

He fucks you so hard, you forget how many times you come, clawing at him, teeth-rattling, throat hoarse from calling out, the sturdy coffee table under you squeaking as you writhe in ecstasy. Seemingly not recovering from one peak as he drives you to the next. His fingers a relentless drum onto your distended clit. Just as he is about to peak himself, he tugs on that little ring that dangles off the edge of the table; each bead sliding from your body has you screaming anew, your whole body jerking so violently, your vice-like convulsing pussy pulling him over the edge with you, his cum blooming deep as he collapsed over you, utterly spent.

“Happy birthday, my love….” His face rightfully smug as he tilts his head to look at you.

You cannot say anything; merely pull him into a kiss that you hope conveys everything you want to say.

A Happy Birthday, indeed.

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Anthony taglist Pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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starseungs · 9 months ago

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after the curtain falls. lmh

lee know x gn!reader — spring was a season welcomed by all. what a pity that the notion of ‘all’ exempted you.

genre/s — angst, fluff, its just hurt-comfort, university au • 2.9k words

warning/s — break-up aftermath, profanity, commitment issues, minho gets called a bad bf (sorry), there's a twist i swear !

note — its quite literally been a year since i last wrote a fic so i would love to know how the quality of my writing is !! feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶

Spring was never supposed to be this lifeless.

It was a season of new beginnings, where growth is celebrated and life is nurtured back into full bloom. A time of bright colors and freshly scented air floating all throughout the expanse of space, bringing soft smiles of comfort towards anyone who takes it in. Springtime was welcomed by all.

What a pity that the notion of ‘all’ exempted you.

You didn’t know why your spring was so vastly different from the others near you. You’d like to think that your winter started off just as normal as everybody else: watching the crisp fallen leaves on the ground get replaced by a fresh coat of snow, feeling the familiar prick of the icy season’s breeze on your skin as your body tried to suppress a giggling shiver, as well as seeing puffs of steam come out of every warm breath you took, reminding you that despite the cold weather, you still held a warmth inside of you.

Just who would have known that your spring would be the complete opposite, with your heart frosted over despite the rising temperatures? But somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew exactly why. You would never want to catch yourself admitting it, but maybe it was the way your winter ended in a snowstorm of emotions.

It wasn’t every winter that someone had a fight that could completely shatter an intricately built mosaic. It also wasn’t every winter that you would watch your other half walk out of your life without so much of a single falter.

You knew so damn well that it wasn’t every winter that you could get your heart broken.

Perhaps that was why you allowed your heart to get glazed over by ice. After all, it was the only thing keeping it together without requiring you to spend too much effort. Sure, it melted a bit every now and then, but it was easier to freeze liquid than it was to achieve the complete opposite.

It was for the same reason that you found solace in the springtime evenings, where it resembled even half of the winter that was keeping you human. The dimmed atmosphere of the surroundings was able to neutralize all the parading palettes of color, leaving you with a monochrome wonderland that was much more comforting to the eye.

The walk back to your dorm building wasn’t anything special. It really wasn’t supposed to, nor did you expect something to happen. You had just gotten over the hurdles of coursework back in the school’s library when you decided to call it a day, peacefully trek back to your dorm room, and get to sleep the hours away until duty calls. That was how your evening was supposed to go.

Except it didn’t.

When you first saw a figure more or less passed out near the lower steps of your dorm building, you were visibly concerned. Why wouldn’t you be? At this time of the day, it would be dangerous to just leave yourself undefended in public. That, and who in their right mind would be willing to snooze away amidst the midnight breeze?

That was enough for you to start a little jog toward them. Was this person locked out? Were they drunk? Should you help them? All sorts of questions popped into your head as you got closer to the steps the figure took as their bed for the night.

And yet all those same questions vanished into thin air the moment you caught a glimpse of the person’s face.

“—Minho?”

His name came out of your lips so frail, as if any stronger, and the scene before you would shatter into nothingness, telling you once again that it was all in your head. That you had wished to see him again.

It was almost comical just how fast the sight of him brought back the familiar prick in your eyes—the tears fighting the crisp blow of the wind to keep themselves at bay. This wasn’t how your evening was supposed to go.

Granted, the fight between you was a petty one. Well, not more so petty than sudden since it literally blew up out of nowhere. It started off with a question about commitment. Arguably simple one of where you saw each other in a few years. You had gone first after you asked, rambling happily about graduation and living together. Minho chuckled along with your plans, and to you, he even seemed glad to hear them.

Yet, when the topic of marriage was brought up, his smile immediately turned blank.

Of course, you noticed his drastic change of mood right away. What kind of significant other would you be if you didn’t? But when you reached out to ask him what was wrong, he merely brushed it off as being tired.

Except that both you and him had done nothing but lay around the whole day.

Maybe you, too, had a fault in all of this. You prodded him more about the topic, not knowing you were agitating a ticking time bomb running out of time. If you only knew, then it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he eventually exploded, spitting out that he wasn’t too sure about marriage.

In your view, that would have been fine. You were willing to talk it out; perhaps he had other plans for the both of you that would settle just fine in yours. There was no way you’d pressure Minho into doing something he didn’t feel like doing. You had too much love and respect for him to do so.

It was in an unfortunate turn of events that you had to find out the sentiment wasn’t shared in the same way you did, as when he slammed your room’s door shut after expressing that it wouldn’t work out, he took a piece of your heart with him that left you incomplete on the days that followed.

And yet, there he was again. Marching into your life like nothing ever happened.

In a blinding flash of hot white fury, you marched up to Minho’s peaceful figure, blissfully unaware of the chaos headed his way. Your body shook in the repressed burst of energy, trying not to lose yourself in public despite the area devoid of people. After reaching him in less than a minute, you saw no hesitation in leaning down to wake him.

“Minho,” you grasped at his right shoulder, trying to shake him out of slumber. You saw the action as intense in a way that was borderline frantic, not a care for the state of the joint you had grabbed. After all, why would you? Yet, while you’d like to believe you did a great job at expressing your displeasure, a small voice pestering at the back of your mind begged to say otherwise.

It was a mere whisper—directed at the act you just committed, one that shouldn’t even bother you in the slightest. Yet, it did. So painfully so.

That kind of gentleness isn’t reserved for a heart swirling in rage.

The slight squeeze in your heart at the notion only made you grit your teeth further in displeasure. Curse your damned heart for keeping its fondness for the man before you. The same man who was still up in dreamland while you were fighting your own war at the present. You clicked your tongue in building irritation.

“Wake up, or else I’m leaving you out here to freeze.” With one last shove, Minho finally came back to Earth.

You watched as he fluttered his eyes open, ignoring the warmth that seemed to spread over you once you got a glimpse of his big almond eyes. Minho sure took his sweet time to process his surroundings, causing you to purse your lips in uncertainty when his gaze lingered on your figure towering over him a bit too long with an unexplainable emotion.

“Hi,” he mumbled slowly, a small smile ghosting on his rosy lips. “Even in my dreams, you never fail to look so lovely.”

Cold air filled your lungs as you sucked in a breath at his words. You hated the way he easily melted the ice that you had covered your heart in. Without even meaning to, Minho had already managed to tear down the first layer of protection you had set up to keep yourself sane. There were a lot of things you wanted to tell him back, but you held your tongue. This wasn’t the right time.

Nor would that time ever come.

“It’s not a dream,” you opted to inform him of what was left of the goodness in your heart, partly feeling guilty for his disoriented state. “Get up, Minho. It’s cold out here.”

“You’re—what, wait!”

Minho scrambled frantically from his seated position on the dorm building’s steps, clumsily finding his balance to get up. The rush of suddenly standing after a nap came over him like a wave, causing him to stumble with a groan as he let the blood that came up settle. You sighed at Minho’s efforts, turning back around to continue your way towards the entrance.

“You should go back home.”

“I won’t!” He replied in haste, pure desperation seeping over his words. “Not again. Not when I spend every passing hour regretting that I did back then when I clearly shouldn’t have.”

You felt your world still at what Minho had just said. Did you hear it correctly?

“Please, Y/N.”

Minho’s footsteps echoed in your mind, telling you that he was moving closer. But your body had yet to listen to the warning bells you had set off, keeping you still in the same place you had stopped in. You surprised yourself with the small whimper that escaped your lips after feeling warmth radiating right behind you.

“Can—can I hug you?”

And just like that, the dam broke as the first fits of sobs spluttered out of your body in waves, barely getting contained as Minho wrapped you with his arms firmly. You turned to face him just to throw weak punches at his chest. “I hate you so much!”

“I know,” he said, hugging you tighter, as if you would disappear the moment he eased his hold. “I know you do.”

“Do you know how hurt I was? How could you just leave me like that!”

“I don’t know,” Minho answers again, completely giving in to your inner turmoil. He let you dampen his hoodie with your tears without any reference. “I was stupid.”

“So stupid!”

“Very stupid,” he repeats your words without hesitation, finally pulling back slightly to see your tear-stained face, gently wiping the fresh drops that escaped with his thumb.

You cursed the way your body naturally leaned into his touch. You disliked the way his voice soothed your running mind from the horrors it placed upon yourself. You hated the way you felt comforted by his presence, the same way he hurt you with his absence.

And most of all, you despised the way you couldn’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said heavily, visibly trying to keep his own tears at bay. “I know that won’t fix all the things that happened, but I still wanted to let you know.”

You exhaled shakily.

“I—I won’t force you to accept my apology,” he continued. “But please—God, Y/N. I don’t think I’d be able to handle you telling me to go home and never fixing us. I wouldn’t survive in this world without you by my side. I promise I’ll do better for you. I’ll reflect on what I need to, just—”

Minho breathed in deeply.

“Give me another chance.”

The two of you breathed in unison for the first time in weeks.

“Cut!”

“Nice,” Jisung’s squeal of joy could be heard throughout the wide space, carefully fumbling with his video camera to watch the scene’s replay. “That was a great take!”

Seungmin groans at the noise level. “Seriously, would it hurt you to keep it down? Some people are already asleep,” he scoffs, really not wanting to deal with a complaint filed against them this late into the night.

The younger of the two only juts his lower lip forward into a childish pout. “But it’s only midnight. We’re in university. Who gets to sleep that early in university?” Seungmin only bites back a retort after sensing genuine confusion in Jisung’s tone.

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

At the sound of their bickering, the late night’s breeze didn’t seem to be as frosty as it was a few minutes ago. You distantly hear Seungmin and Jisung continue to talk, now finding themselves in a heated discussion about the next scene. A light chuckle was heard coming from the man still holding you.

“Well, I’m glad that they’re having fun,” Minho comments, greatly amused at the duo. You felt his gaze drop down towards your head, still resting on his shoulder. “Feeling okay?”

You could only nod at his query, too exhausted from enacting the scene that just finished. He hummed at your non-verbal approach to answering, running a hand through your hair to soothe your dropping emotions.

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?” You let out a soft giggle at his wording before snuggling yourself closer to his figure. Minho lets you do your thing with a smile.

“Let’s not ever do that.”

“Do what, love?” He asks, requesting that you elaborate. You listened to his heartbeat thump calmly before speaking up.

“Break up,” you said, the thought leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. “I don’t like the feeling. It hurts.”

Minho laughs again, but this time it was aimed at you. “Well, of course it’s going to hurt,” he says with a light tone. “You’re going to be losing me!” You slapped his arm in annoyance.

“You are such an ass, Lee Minho!”

“Ow—hold on!” He chokes out in between chuckles. Minho takes hold of the hand that was assaulting his arm, slipping it into his own and entangling both of your fingers. You couldn’t help the heat that washed over your face at the intimate action. Minho seemed satisfied with your reaction. “If it makes you feel better, it’s going to hurt me too.”

You pull away to raise a brow at his statement. “Why? Since you’ll be single?” Minho pretends to think for a second.

“I mean, I guess?” You shot him an icy glare at his admission, but the tender smile he gave back at you made your angry facade falter in an instant. It looks like on-screen you had the same issues with their own Minho—both being undeniably weak when it came to them.

“Stop giving me that look,” you sigh amidst a smile you were suppressing.

“What look?”

“That look,” you say, almost in a breath as you struggle to chase the words out of your mouth. “The one when you look at me like I’m the only person in this world.”

It was a look you’ve seen too many times. One that he would give you both at the most intimate of moments and the most random of times. You see it when you wake up in the morning to him already awake beside you; you saw it when you squealed in joy after winning a prize from those rigged claw machines in the arcade across town; and you see it especially when he sees you waiting outside his class’ building after an extensive lecture, holding two cups of coffee for both you and him. It was from those times that you realized—it was Minho’s gaze of unfiltered love for you.

Minho pulls you back into his arms, still unable to let go of his endearing grin. Your head finds its way back into the crevice of his neck, finding home in it once again, like second nature.

“That’s because you are the only person in my world.”

“We beg to differ.”

Minho could only roll his eyes at the eerily synchronized voices of Jisung and Seungmin, leaving you to crumble into fits of laughter. He scoffs before replying, “If I lose my beloved darling, then you guys are losing an actor.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be trying to salvage your relationship if you stopped being such a shit boyfriend!” Jisung bites back at Minho’s threat.

“What, so you would rather watch us be all lovey-dovey in front of you? I didn’t take you for that kind of person, Jisung.”

“Seungmin, he’s fighting me again!”

“What am I, your mom?”

The night continued on in blissful laughter and amused smiles, finally fitting for the season of spring. Even with the chilled breeze of the evening air, the warmth exuding from the four of you would remain, defrosting the ice you had layered on your heart for the scene given to you. Deep in your mind, you knew that this was really how your night was supposed to go.

That as much as you loved creating little scenarios for your friends’ films, you’d always prefer the life you had after the curtain falls.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu

sorry for anyone tagged that didn't want to be !! i used my old mastertag from a year ago for this fic. i'll be creating a new one soon, so kindly just tell me if you want to be included still 🤍

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toovaeloe · 3 months ago

Text

Pickles

One night he brings home a stray cat to your apartment, but it seems to love him more than you ☁️🐈☁️

pairing: Choso Kamo x gn!reader

no warnings, fluff, established relationship, modern au

word count: around 1.5k? (I’m pretty sure)

You knew your boyfriend to be an animal lover.

Although he’s mentioned on a few occasions that you two should get a pet, he’s always been hesitant about it. Choso insisted he didn’t want it to get lonely while the two of you were away from home. But that didn’t stop him from doting over puppies or birds in the windows of pet stores. Which was adorable, by the way.

Despite this idea, he didn’t stick to it for very long. One night you were lounging on the couch, mourning a character from a show you had put on as “background noise” while cleaning (only to end up getting completely distracted and off task) when you heard the lock twisting in the door. You sat up when you saw Choso, sopping wet and his unique pigtail hairstyle all mussed and soggily dripping from the rain, home a decent time later from work than you expected.

Though before you could ask him where he had been, you noticed he was cradling some sort of lump in his zip-up hoodie.

“…You pregnant?” You uttered dumbly the first thought that came to mind, “…Is it mine?”

“I- No. Dummy,” Choso’s brows furrowed for a moment at your strange dumbass query, before he further unzipped to reveal a mangy wet ball of tabby gray fur nestled against his shirt. “I found him by the road, all rained on n’ shit.”

He waited for your reaction to ask the million dollar question, first adoring the way you cooed and drew closer to pet the feline. “We can keep him, right?”

How could you have said no?

And so from then on you had your own perfect little family of three.

Or you would have.

If family member number three didn’t hate your guts with all of his ping-pong ball sized heart.

You felt like you did everything to get this cat— now deemed Pickles— to like you.

Quality time,

Treats,

Expensive toys,

Cat nip.

Nothing seemed to make Pickles warm up to you. He would hiss at you when you neared him, claw at you when you tried to feed him— he even pissed on your laundry once. And maybe worst of all, whenever you tried to join Choso in the living room or in bed when Pickles happened to be curled on his chest, he’d growl and bristled until you were banished to the far corner of the room. He had taken over your boyfriend.

“You have to choose: him or me!” You declared, sulking with a pointed finger at Pickles in one of your more melodramatic competitions for your boyfriend’s attention with the tabby. That of which Choso couldn’t help but be amused by, a stifled smirk nearly curling at his lips as he gently shooed away the feline in favor of beckoning you over to wrap up in his embrace, to shower you in affection until the creases of your scowl were no longer hard-set on your features.

“You don’t mean that,” He’d soothe with a hand cradling the back of your head against his chest.

“He hates me.” You’d huff, bottom lip jutted out and tugged into a frown. Choso’s thumb continued to rub soothing patterns against your shoulder despite the way his eyes went skyward.

“He’s a cat.”

“He hates me,” You’d insist.

“He can’t even recognize his own reflection. He’s not even smart enough to hate you, y/n.”

Despite your petty disputes with the damned furball, you still loved him. And you wanted him to love you, too. Choso could see that, could see your efforts, and it hurt his heart to see you so discouraged.

Which is why when you and Pickles finally came to a some sort of truce, he was ecstatic.

And even more so the evenings when you came bounding into the apartment after work, ambushing him in the kitchen where he was preparing dinner.

“Look at this!” You’d beam, holding up one of Pickle’s mouse toys, shoving it in his face with enthusiasm that made his brow quirk up and his teeth flash in a bemused smile before he realized.

“He did it again, huh?” Choso chuckled.

A few weeks ago, Pickles had put one of his toys in your shoe and you hadn't noticed until after you had made it to work. The first time it happened and you discovered it, your eyes were practically brimming with tears and your heart soaring. The damned thing finally liked you. And Pickles showed it in the most wonky, heartwarming way.

You had been all smiles that day.

That's why Choso thought it should happen again.

And again.

Aaand again.

So for the past few weeks, he’s been planting Pickle’s cat toys in your shoes every few mornings before you got up to leave. Truly it was Pickles’ doing the very first time, but he just couldn’t get enough of the way your face lit up. And although he hates lying, Choso makes an exception every now and then, here or there. He’s done similar things for Yuji, after all, just to get his little brother to crack an extra smile or two through their childhood. To this day Yuji probably still thinks that the sweet pea he planted in the backyard after dinner at the age of 5 grew into a bunch of green grapes. (Choso went out to the store later that night and “planted” the clusters of grapes atop the dirt for the little stinker to find when he woke up.)

Another morning goes by; nearly the crack of dawn when Choso untangles himself from your limbs and the sheets, silently venturing out to the foyer by the front door where you kept your shoes for the next day.

Ironically enough, you wouldn’t even have caught him if it weren’t for Pickles leaping up onto you in your sleep, paws trampling you until you were uncomfortable enough to wake.

“Pickles,” You muttered under your breath like a curse as you shifted against groggy, but not enough to not notice your beloved gone from bed, something within you convincing you to drag yourself out of bed and search for him.

You had flipped on the main light in the doorway of the open layout of your shared apartment just as Choso had bent over your shoe with the tail of a mouse toy pinched between his fingers. As the illumination bathed the room he went rigid— and you could almost see the nervous sweat drop when his head slowly turned to where you stood in the hall.

“Oh,”

He’d clear his throat, as if he could salvage being caught in the act and play it off. “You’re up early, darling.”

“…Choso?” You muttered, still disoriented from sleep. Your eyes squinted from across the space lit by fluorescent lights, drowsy cognition slowly putting the pieces together of what you were looking at.

“…what’re you doing?” You asked with a healthy dose of suspicion coating your tone.

He remained frozen for a moment, the cat toy still pinched between his fingers. He looked a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I’mmuuuh…morning stretches,” He supplied hastily; bowing into a human-parabola until his ebony tresses were nearly brushing the floor. Some odd approximation of a sideways backbend as if that made his story any more plausible.

Honestly, it’s a miracle he’s kept this secret from you so long. He’s a horrible liar.

The earnest confusion painted across your sleep-dazed face made him sigh, resigning himself to honesty…maybe.

“Okay…Pickles told me he wanted me to—“

“Don’t bullshit me, I’m not five.”

“—I might’ve been putting Pickles’ toys in your shoes. For the past few weeks,” He’d confess sheepishly, “you were just so happy when he started warming up to you, I wanted to see a few more of those smiles.”

His eyes darted away for a second and then back to you in the silence that followed, and away again- trying to gauge your reaction, as if he feared to be suddenly struck by some divine punishment for having lied to you.

You couldn’t even be mad; the ridiculous adorableness of the situation made you snort as you walked up and bent down to sit where he was still bent that absurd pose. His lips were just parting to form an apology as your fingers moved to dance across his ribs until he squawked and flailed into a pile of doofus on your apartment’s floor.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Your annoyance is more mock than sincere. You couldn’t muster much more than a scoff, and the curve of a smile on your lips couldn’t be flattened no matter how hard you’d try to bite it back. “for real waking up at this hour just to put cat toys in my shoes? I can’t take you seriously.”

“Harsh,” The ravennette man muttered under his breath like an overgrown brat as he propped himself up to sit beside you with his elbows resting against his knees. “See if I do anything nice for you ever again.”

“I’m joking,” You retorted, emphasizing with a poke to his shoulder.

“So am I,” he’d echo, his pout morphing into a puckish grin as he tipped sideways to lean against you.

“And I love youuu~” Your sing-song declaration is obscured by a still drowsy yawn as your head falls against his arm. Not an ounce of daylight permeates your shared living space, and it’s telling that it won’t be long before your two sleepy-headed selves stumbled back to bed.

“I love youuu toooo,” A more baritone parallel of your melody is parroted back as he lowered his head to rest atop yours, muffled by the contagious yawn that has his eyes squinting closed.

Neither of you even noticed Pickles’ presence until he announced his arrival with a meow. A fuzzy white mouse toy is dropped at the tabby’s paws before he padded closer to nuzzle against your leg, whiskers brushing your skin like a butterfly kiss, like his very own feline “I love you,” as Choso says.

a/n: i got a flu shot today and my entire arm is sore 😭

I hope this turned out well i am half asleep writing about being sleepy 💀🫶🏽

i hope both sides of your pillow are cold 🤍

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starlightkun · 5 months ago

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❧ word count: 26.1k ❧ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies early in the fic, depictions of grieving, family member of the reader is sick (it’s dementia-like, though the disease is never named in the fic), family tension/drama (reader has some family members that are not very nice to her), reader has some sleep/physical health issues at one point, reader is just really going through it in this fic for a while ❧ extra info: the reader’s mom in this has early-onset memory issues; i didn’t name a specific disease because im not a medical expert of any kind and didn’t want to misrepresent any real-life illness in this fic. i combined both my own experiences with my own family members who have had these kinds of illnesses and some research, but i am not an expert and the representation in this fic may not be entirely accurate! ❧ author’s note: i don’t think i’ve done a spooky fic like this before? but this one was super fun! also i will say it takes a little bit for jisung to show up, so please be patient when you don’t see him in the first few scenes, he’ll be there, i promise! ❧ sequel

That night, the rain was still pounding against the windows. Your mom had gone to bed a while ago, but your mind was restless. Something had happened again as you were helping your mom get ready for bed. Your stepdad’s reading glasses, which were on the nightstand on his side of their bed, as they had been since he passed, had fallen off with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Not wanting your mom to get spooked about the house again, you reassured her that you had just bumped into the furniture—her back was turned when they fell—but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

“Hi, Hyukjun.” You picked up the phone call from your stepdad as you headed back towards your office building from the restaurant you’d taken your lunch break at.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?” His warm, familiar voice was on the other end as always, though there was something different about it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on from the quality of your phone speaker. Your steps slowed thoughtfully as you listened more attentively, a pit growing in your stomach.

“I’m good,” you answered shortly, suspicion creeping over you. “How are you two?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate hearing from your stepdad, you were on good terms with him. Your father passed when you were a little girl, and your mom continued to raise you on her own, not even considering any romantic prospects until you graduated high school. She and Hyukjun only dated for six months before marrying and had been happily married since. Hyukjun was a mild-mannered divorcee with three adult sons of his own, all of whom were at least a decade older than you, and none of which you were exceptionally close with. When your mom had been diagnosed only five years into their marriage, he began taking care of her—no question and no complaints. With her condition, you were fairly certain that you visited them more than Hyukjun’s own kids did, despite all of them living nearby to your knowledge.

He at least didn’t beat around the bush anymore. “She’s getting worse, Y/N.”

“How bad?”

“She thinks the house is haunted,” he admitted. “And I…”

“What?” You prompted him.

“She’s been asking for you. I know you’re busy, but if you could visit soon, I think it’d really help her.”

“Yeah, I have some time this weekend,” you agreed immediately. “I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.”

You were arriving at the building then, slowing to a stop outside as you prepared to hang up. “My break is ending, Hyukjun, I’ve got to go.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You looked up at the gray storm clouds gathering in the sky above you. “And tell Mom I love her, and I’ll be there soon.”

“I will. Have a good rest of your day at work, sweetheart.”

“Right. Bye.”

When your mom and Hyukjun got married, you already had a lease on a small place closer to your job in the city, so your mom sold your childhood home and moved in with Hyukjun. Despite the small twinge of sadness at her selling your childhood home, the place where you, your mom, and dad had all been together, you were happy that she was no longer there by herself. Their home was a quaint two-story, two-bedroom townhome, with well-tended flowerbeds and a porch swing out front. A long time ago, you knew that this house had been your stepbrothers’ childhood home, the three of them sharing what was now the guest room, Hyukjun and his ex-wife occupying the primary bedroom that was now his and your mother’s. Hyukjun had been divorced for many years before he met your mom, you didn’t know the exact number off the top of your head—you weren’t sure if you had ever been told.

The snapdragons were in bloom, stalks of purples and blues and pinks, and you squatted down next to one. Feeling a bit like a child, you gently squeezed the sides of one flower to make the “mouth” of the dragon open, like Hyukjun had shown you one of the first times you’d met, the very first time you ever went to his house. The front door opened, and you looked up to see your stepdad stepping out of the house. You stood up, walking up the three short steps from the sidewalk to meet him on their porch.

“I saw you coming up the street,” he explained, gesturing to the front window. “It’s good to see you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Hyukjun.” You hugged him. “Good to see you too.”

“I just wanted to give you a heads up. She’s calm, but she’s not exactly… here,” he explained. “I didn’t want you to be caught off-guard.”

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Following your stepdad into the house, he guided you towards the living room at the back of the house.

“Hon?” He poked his head into the living room.

Your mom looked up from where she had been reading a book in an armchair, her face breaking into a gentle smile. “Oh, Sangwoo, you’re back.”

“Yes, I picked Y/N up, just like you asked.” Your stepdad stepped aside to let her see you.

You pushed aside the alarms going off in your mind to give your mother as calm of a smile as you could, approaching her with your hand outstretched. “Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, hi, sweetie.” She beamed at you, taking your hand that was offered and squeezing it tight. “How was school?”

“It was good, I had a good day,” you answered brightly. Looking down at the book in her lap, you asked, “What are you reading?”

Your mother had been a Literature teacher for all her life, before her diagnosis forced her to retire many years before she ever wanted to. She would read to you at any opportunity when you were a kid, especially at bedtime. It was always easiest to get her talking now about whatever book she was reading, no matter where her mind was.

“Oh, I’ll tell you about it later. First, do you have homework?”

“No, Mom, nothing today.”

Hyukjun cleared his throat then. “You must be hungry, Y/N. Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, yes, go get a snack.” Your mother insisted.

“Okay,” you acquiesced, giving her hand another tight squeeze. “I’ll be right back after my snack. I want to hear about your book.”

In their kitchen, you turned on your stepdad with wide eyes. “She’s not just mixing up your names anymore, she thinks you are my dad!”

“Sometimes…” Hyukjun nodded, leaning against a kitchen counter. “Not always. She has her lucid days still.”

In the bright kitchen lighting, you could see a certain tiredness in Hyukjun that was new, a pallor in his skin, a hitch in his breaths, a lag in his movements, none of which used to be there.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyes locking on his. “With you? You were going to tell me something on the phone, and you didn’t. Tell me.”

He sighed, the sound dragging out into a wheeze and then a hacking cough that he covered in his elbow, and you winced just watching him. When he’d caught his breath again, he answered, “They found a tumor, in my lung. I have maybe six months, Y/N.”

“That’s it?!” You blurted out. “I-I mean, even with chemo, or radiation, or whatever?”

“I’m not—”

“It’s not treatable?”

He cast a sidelong glance down the hall, at the room where your mother was. “Someone needs to take care of her. I need to be here, and after I’m gone, our savings will go towards her care. We can’t spend it all on something that might give me another few months.”

“Another few months with her! With us!” You grabbed his arm, knowing how desperate you sounded. “What about your kids? Do they know what you’re doing?”

“No.” His voice was heavy, but determined. “I know you all don’t talk… but don’t tell them, please.”

His face wavered in your vision as your eyes filled with tears. You tried to swallow them down, but a couple spilled over. “Let me move in, and help. I want to take care of both of you. Please.”

“What about your job?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me. You’ve done enough for me, for us. Let me do something for you.”

“Thank you.”

Your work agreed to let you move into a part-time remote position. Most days you were able to get all your done, early even. Not only was Hyukjun there, but a memory care aide named Nayoung came by for an hour three days a week to assist as well.

It had been a month since you moved into the primary bedroom on the second floor, the bedroom that used to be your mom and stepdad’s. You found out that they moved their things into the guest room on the first floor two months ago, when your mom hurt herself on the stairs. It had only been a skinned knee, but Hyukjun didn’t want to risk something worse.

That night you laid in bed with your laptop open, desperately trying to finish up a report that was due the next day. Today had been rougher, your mom needing constant redirection and reorientation, not to mention the conversation that you had with your stepdad earlier this evening. Usually after your mom went to sleep, the two of you would watch a movie or a couple episodes of a show, or just have a drink and chat. It was a nice, slow, easy part of your day with just the two of you. But this time as you rooted around the for the fresh tub of ice cream that you had just bought from the store, and called to him over your shoulder asking if he wanted a bowl, you saw him waiting for you with papers in his hand.

One of the errands he’d sent you on today, in addition to groceries, the post office, and the pharmacy, had been to an attorney’s office. You’d known that, you weren’t stupid. There, you had been handed a large envelope with the law firm’s name embossed on it, and your stepdad’s name typed on a label under that. You didn’t inquire as to the contents of the envelope from the receptionist, nor your stepdad when you delivered it to him upon returning home. It was none of your business. But at the kitchen table that night, he showed you the documents that he had drawn up.

Once he passed, you would own his house, the one that you lived in now, as a life estate pur autre vie. For the life of another. Until your mother passed, you would own his house, and could stay here and take care of her. Then, once she passed, the house would go to his sons, your stepbrothers, as he’d always intended.

You sighed and deleted the sentence you’d just written. “Stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself. Looking at the time, you let out another sigh and rubbed your face in exasperation. “I’m never going to fucking finish this.”

Setting the laptop aside, you pushed your covers off yourself and got out of bed. Keeping your footsteps light, you crept downstairs and into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. After drinking a whole glass in the kitchen, you refilled it to bring it back up to bedroom with you. Halfway up the stairs, the sconce on the wall next to your head flickered on, making you pause. You’d left all the lights off on your way down. Peering behind the frosted glass cover, you reached your hand back there and tightened the bulb. The light stopped flickering, and you looked around at the empty, dark staircase again. Shrugging to yourself, you finished your journey to your room.

Cutting up your mom’s breakfast into small pieces, you hummed a song that had been stuck in your head. The sound of something clattering startled your peaceful reverie, and your head snapped up immediately. You darted around the kitchen counter to get your eyes on where your mom was sitting at the kitchen table.

“You okay, Mom?” You asked, eyes searching her for any signs of injury or distress.

“Oh, I’m fine, sweetie,” she reassured you, pointing at a point on the floor further away from her. You saw that a silver utensil was gleaming up from the tile. “I dropped my fork, that’s all.”

“I’ll grab you another one when I bring your food in, don’t worry about it,” you reassured her. “Leave it, I’ll pick it up in a sec.”

Returning to the kitchen, you finished cutting her food, then prepared yours and Hyukjun’s plates. Carrying all three of them in, along with your mom’s clean fork, you cocked your head when you saw the fork sitting on the closest edge of the table to the kitchen. Looking at Hyukjun, who had joined your mom at the table in the interim, you said, “You didn’t have to pick up the fork, Hyukjun, I was going to grab it.”

His face betrayed his momentary confusion, looking between the food you just set in front of him, then to the fork on the edge of the table. “That was there when I came in. I didn’t move it.”

As you set your mom’s food down for her, you asked, “Mom, did you get the fork?”

But her eyes had a familiar far-out appearance, and you knew she wasn’t going to be able to answer you. You shook your head at yourself, putting your own plate down and grabbing the dirty fork off the table. Dropping it in the kitchen sink, you then returned to the table to take your seat next to your mother and across from Hyukjun.

You weren’t sure why you were awake at first. Everything seemed quiet, but something didn’t feel right. Sitting up in bed, you checked the time on your phone. 2:48 a.m. You desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but you couldn’t shake the uneasiness in your mind, and so you pushed the covers off of you.

As soon as you were at the top of the stairs, you could hear voices downstairs, your mother’s and your stepdad’s. Your stepdad was clearly trying to keep his voice down, but your mom wasn’t, and she sounded distressed.

“Sangwoo, I’m telling you something’s wrong with this house! We need to go! Where’s Y/N?!” She demanded of him.

“She’s fine, she’s sleeping. Please, tell me what’s wrong with the house, and we can try to fix it,” he pleaded with her quietly.

You finally made it to the hallway just outside their bedroom, taking in the scene of your mom’s wild, scared eyes and Hyukjun’s desperate concern. “Mom, I’m here, I’m okay.”

“Y/N!” She let out a gasp of relief as soon as she saw you. “Oh, you’re okay.”

“Yes, Mom, I’m okay.” You offered her your hand, and she grabbed it tightly. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“I’ve been trying to tell your dad—” She gestured to Hyukjun pointedly. “But this house isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just isn’t right,” she repeated insistently. “What happened to our old house? We need to go back there!”

You looked at Hyukjun desperately, at a loss for words to explain that she sold it years ago. Thankfully, he took over.

“It’s late, hon. We can’t go all the way back to the old house this late at night, especially not with Y/N. It’s not safe,” he persuaded her gently.

She seemed to relax a little at this. “Oh. Right. It’s late.”

“Can you read me something, Mom?” You requested sweetly.

This finally brought a smile to her features, and she nodded, her grasp on your hand turning tender. “Oh, of course, Y/N. I’m sorry I woke you, sweetie.”

“It’s alright, Mom,” you reassured her, leading her back into their bedroom. “Everything’s alright.”

Hyukjun’s funeral was quaint. It was kept to family and close friends, and organized mostly by his sons and ex-wife. You didn’t mind, your mother was in no shape to organize a funeral, and you were more than happy to step aside and support her through this while they dealt with the details.

Today of all days was one of your mother’s better days, possibly one of the best that she’s had in a while, and you didn’t know if that was better or worse. Better, you decided, so she could say goodbye to him properly. After the small funeral was the wake, held at Hyukjun’s home—which was now your home, you realized—and was a more open-door affair. Your mom’s memory care aide, Nayoung, came as well, which you were glad for. While your stepbrothers and their mother played host more than you, greeting guests as they showed up, chatting and reminiscing with them about all their shared memories of Hyukjun from years or even decades ago, it was still your residence, and you couldn’t bring yourself to just stay in a corner. Hyukjun had been your family too, for however brief a period of your life.

You were alone in the kitchen getting refreshments for yourself, your mom, and Nayoung when you sensed that you weren’t by yourself. Turning around, you did in fact see your stepbrothers entering the kitchen, followed by their mother.

You offered them all a small, polite smile. “Hi.”

“Glad we caught you, Y/N,” the oldest brother flashed you a grin. “You got a sec?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“We know it must be really tough for you, taking care of your mom by yourself now,” their mother said, her voice coated in an over-the-top sugary sweet sympathy.

You shrugged noncommittally. “Nayoung helps.”

The youngest jumped in, “We just wanted you to know that you and your mom can take as much time as you need to move out.”

“Of course, of course,” their mother agreed. “You know, a week or two.”

They all nodded and murmured in agreement, focusing the same overeager, empty, sympathetic faces on you that made you feel like you were surrounded by some kind of predator that wanted to empathize you to death. Steeling your nerves, you met all of their eyes in turn as you went to answer.

“We’re not moving out.” You informed them firmly. “Hyukjun left the house to me to keep taking care of my mom. After… it’s all yours.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you’ll just give it to us?” The youngest scoffed, immediately dropping his kind, caring act. All of their faces were somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“No, he set it up that way. You can get your copies of the papers from his attorney, Mr. Shin.” You brought out the business card for the attorney who drafted the papers. You’d tucked it into your wallet absentmindedly when it’d been given to you on your initial errand from Hyukjun, and you were glad you hadn’t had the time to clean out your wallet since. You set the business card down on the counter between you.

The oldest snatched up the card. “There’s no way…”

“We’re going to fight this. No way the house is yours,” the youngest swore.

The middle son spoke finally, his gaze hard as he glared at you. He practically snarled, “You’re not his family, you’ve never been.”

“It was good seeing you all again,” you said, no emotion in your voice. Abandoning your three glasses, you scooted around the counter, then around them, heading towards the kitchen door that they had been blocking the whole time. “Please have all communications about the property go through Mr. Shin. He’ll be able to answer your questions better than I can.”

Crying at a wake was normal. Encouraged even. But you weren’t amongst loved ones, remembering someone you’d lost. You were alone, sitting at the top of the stairs in the dark, crying into your arms to muffle your sobs as you tried to compose yourself from the confrontation you’d just survived. Barely. Your hands were balled into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice caught your attention, gentle, then hushed as he seemed to be speaking to himself, “Why are you asking that? Stupid, stupid.”

You picked your head up out of your arms, quickly wiping the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you spotted a young man at the bottom of the stairs. He had dark hair and was dressed in a pair of black pants, a white shirt, and what looked like a black cardigan over the shirt. You didn’t recognize him from the wake, but you hadn’t greeted everyone, nor did you know all the mourners personally. Many were either family friends of Hyukjun’s from before he met your mother, old colleagues, or distant relations.

Sniffling and trying to right your clothes, you offered him as much of a smile you could muster, “I’m sorry, it’s uhm, been a long day.”

He froze, his eyes locking on yours and going wide. The man looked behind him, as if expecting you to have been addressing somebody else, and upon seeing an empty hallway, he turned back to you and hesitantly replied, “That’s… okay. Are you alright?”

“Oh, as alright as I can be, I suppose,” you admitted, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve again. You weren’t sure why you were telling this random man that, but he had spotted you sobbing at a wake, so there wasn’t much of a point in covering that fact up. “Were you looking for the bathroom or…?”

“No, just stretching my legs.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t think I saw you at the funeral. How did you know my stepdad? Family friend?”

“Yeah, I was around when his kids were growing up.”

“Oh, are you a childhood friend of his sons or something?”

“Friend is a stretch, I think,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as well, adding a polite but hollow, “I’m sure they appreciate you coming out to pay your respects.”

As he shifted on his feet, the shadows on his face lessened, letting you see his features better. You furrowed your brow with interest.

“How old are you? I mean—You don’t look older than me, you must’ve been much younger than them growing up.”

“I-I mean, we weren’t very close,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Feeling bad about putting him on the spot in this sort of scenario, you offered him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I didn’t grow up with my stepbrothers, so I guess it’s a bit hard for me to imagine them having friends—Oh!”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you slapped a hand over it, wishing you hadn’t said them, especially not to some stranger, who for all you know could turn right around and repeat it to your stepbrothers. That would be the last thing you needed, to give them another reason to hate you, and by extension, your mother.

“That didn’t come out right!” You desperately tried to backpedal, holding your hands out in front of you. “I-I meant that I haven’t met a lot of their friends, since our parents got together later in life, and—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured you calmly, taking a couple hesitant steps up the stairs. You scooted over to make room for him to sit next to you on the top step. He pressed himself against the banister, leaving plenty of space between you two. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard some of what they said to you in the kitchen.”

“I would normally be upset at you for eavesdropping, but I’m kind of glad that somebody else heard some of the shit they said to me this time,” you chuckled cynically.

“‘This time?’” He repeated questioningly. “Are they always like that to you?”

“I don’t see them that often. I think the first time I met the middle son was at the wedding, actually,” you said. “They started spending more holidays with their mom instead of Hyukjun when my mom… after her diagnosis.”

“Oh.”

“God, sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all this shit.” You shook your head at yourself. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Jisung.”

“Y/N.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s true. You and your mom are his family, too.”

You messed with the sleeves of your shirt as you stared at the bottom step, gnawing on your bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste of blood when you broke skin. Finally, once you’d swallowed down the lump in your throat, you replied with a tight, “Thanks. And I mean, I understand why they would be upset. Their dad just died and two people who are essentially strangers to them are now living in their childhood home. Of course they feel weird about it.”

“That’s... gracious.”

“It’s true. And like I said, their dad died, they deserve some grace.” From elsewhere in the house, you could hear your mom calling your name, and immediately jumped to your feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“I understand.” Jisung nodded to you. “It was nice talking to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for listening, Jisung.” You waved to him over your shoulder as you rushed down the stairs and off in the direction of your mother’s voice.

The next day, you had habitually started preparing three plates of breakfast before you caught yourself. In the first couple days after his passing, it was painfully in the foreground of your mind with everything you did, but this was the first time you’d found yourself going about a daily task and it had slipped your mind. You left the full plate of food in the kitchen to clean up later, and took just yours and your mom’s plates to the kitchen table.

“Do you want to go on a walk after breakfast?” You proposed as you ate.

It was something that Hyukjun and your mom did every morning. Sometimes you joined them, but usually you took the opportunity to clean up around the house or get work done in the quiet. Your mother had no trouble ambulating, it was her mind that was going faster than anything else. With Hyukjun no longer here to walk with her, you didn’t want her to lose that precious time going out, or the exercise. Not to mention, you needed to get out of the house again.

“Oh, I’d love to, sweetie,” she agreed with a smile, one that you noticed didn’t reach her eyes.

“After we’re done, I’ll clean up while you get ready.”

As you scooped the extra food into a plastic container at the end of breakfast, you realized the lid that you’d grabbed was the wrong size. Opening the cabinet that contained all the plastic containers, you squatted down with a sigh, mentally preparing yourself to ransack through the absolute mess that greeted you down there. Hyukjun normally kept it meticulously organized, all containers accompanied by their proper lids, but in your rush to clean up after everyone left the wake late last night, you had effectively ruined all of it.

You tried to just look under a haphazard stack of plastic containers, and they of course all came crashing out onto the kitchen floor. You groaned, plopping down onto your butt as you got ready to have to put them all back. But as you went to pick up the first one, an overwhelming, crushing feeling of loneliness and sorrow hit you like a bus, and you covered your face as you started sobbing. The hot tears stung your eyes, every shaking breath you took hurt your chest, and even the task of putting the tupperware back seemed impossible and monumental now.

Rubbing one of your eyes, you inhaled and forced yourself to grab just one container to put back. “Come on, don’t have time for this.”

Slowly, you put the containers away, until there was one lid left that had slid much further away from you. You crawled over to it, realizing the shape seemed familiar as you held it in your hands. Standing back up, you fitted it over the container of leftovers you had perfectly.

“Huh.” Your sobs petered out as you looked down at it curiously. “That could’ve been easier.”

Throwing open the front door, you grunted as you hauled your heavy grocery bags into the home.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Nayoung’s voice called out. She had increased the frequency and duration of her visits since Hyukjun’s passing, and today you took the opportunity to do some much-needed restocking of the kitchen during her stay.

“Yeah!” You yelled back.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m fine!” You hopped on one foot as you tried to wedge your other foot behind the door to close it. “Just—Shit!”

The door suddenly came loose, slamming closed even harder than you had opened it. Nayoung came around the corner with wide eyes, looking rather startled.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, taking a couple bags from your hands, looking you over inquisitively.

You looked between your still-raised foot and the door, a bit dumbfounded. You swore you hadn’t kicked it that hard. This wasn’t actually your house, after all.

“Yeah, Nayoung, I’m okay,” you reassured her, leading the way into the kitchen. “Do you have a window open? There must be a cross-breeze or something.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

It was pouring rain outside, the sky dull and gray, occasionally lit up with flashes of lightning. The constant pounding downpour was interspersed with cracks of thunder that would rattle frames on the walls. The weather was so bad that Nayoung couldn’t even make it out, leaving just you and your mom all day. It wasn’t so bad, today was a better day for her. She was calm at least, despite the weather, absorbed in her books for most of the day. Maybe a little too absorbed, as it was hard to tear her away for meals or snacks. But you could get your work done and do chores around the house uninterrupted, and once you finished your own to-do list, you were able to sit down in the living room with her and read as well.

After a particularly bright flash of lightning, followed by a boom of thunder that made you feel like you were in a low-level earthquake rather than a thunderstorm, the lights went out entirely. You heard the telltale clatter of your mom dropping her book in surprise as she gasped.

“Mom?” You called out to her, both to check on her and so she knew that you were still there.

“I’m okay, sweetie,” she promised. “I just got startled and dropped my book.”

“Stay there,” you directed her, pulling out your phone and turning on your flashlight. You could see that her book had skidded some distance away from her, out of arm’s reach. “I’ll check the breaker. Don’t get up, I don’t want you tripping over anything.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

Opening the utility closet in the laundry room, you threw your hands up in exasperation as you looked over the circuit breaker. You had no fucking clue what you were doing. Right as you had turned on your phone, fully intent on searching the internet for what the fuck you were supposed to do now, the power came back on all on its own.

“Well, there we go!” You called out through the house, starting back towards your mom. “I’m a genius!”

Upon your return to the living room, you stopped when you noticed one key difference: The book was no longer on the floor. It was on the side table next to your mom. There was no way your mom could’ve moved fast enough to have gotten the book and then sat back down in the time since the lights turned back on.

You sighed gently. “I told you not to get up, Mom.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how’d the book get there?” You pointed to the book knowingly.

“I didn’t—” She looked at it curiously, then at where it used to be on the floor. “Oh… I guess I must’ve… Sorry, sweetie.”

You walked over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m sorry if I seemed upset with you. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

She patted your hand. “I know, Y/N. You’re doing a good job.”

The rain was still pounding against the windows that night. Your mom had gone to bed a while ago, but your mind was restless. Something had happened again as you were helping your mom get ready for bed. Hyukjun’s reading glasses, which were on the nightstand on his side of their bed, as they had been since he passed, had fallen off with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Not wanting your mom to get spooked about the house again, you reassured her that you had just bumped into the furniture—her back was turned when they fell—but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

You’d pocketed the glasses instead of replacing them on the nightstand, and were staring at them on the kitchen counter now, fondly remembering the way he used to peer at you over the lenses as he read the newspaper in the morning and you made sarcastic quips about whatever headlines were on the pages facing you.

“Hyukjun?” You said his name into the empty air, uncertainty making your voice waver. After a beat of silence, you hissed, “Of course you weren’t going to get a reply, stupid, stupid.”

Trying to gather yourself, you moved to open the freezer, securing the tub of ice cream from inside it. Sitting at the kitchen table with two spoons, you set one in front of Hyukjun’s spot across from you. Glumly spooning some ice cream into your mouth, you barely tasted it as you stared at his empty chair.

“I miss you,” you said softly, not expecting an answer this time. “A lot. It’s not fair. I know that’s what your sons think, it’s not fair that it was you and not her. But… it’s not fair that we only got… so little time with you.”

You sniffled against the oncoming tears, eating another spoonful.

“I wish… I wish my mom had met you earlier, I wish you didn’t leave us so soon, I wish we got more time…” You looked down at the tub in front of you, your appetite gone. “And I wish I wasn’t eating your favorite ice cream by myself.”

You stood back up, taking both spoons with you into the kitchen. Dropping them into the sink to deal with in the morning, you put the ice cream away and shut off the kitchen lights. You left his glasses on the kitchen counter, deciding you would put them back in your mother’s room tomorrow. As you headed up the stairs, you paused at the top step, a memory of Hyukjun’s wake coming back to you. The nice guy who sat with you and listened to you. You really wished you could have somebody to talk to again.

Something in you made you look over your shoulder then, back down at the bottom step. You swore a darker shape was standing there, unclear in the night. Your heart rate spiked.

“Hyukjun…?” You whispered, hesitantly going down one more step to try to make out what you were seeing better. The shadow seemed to back up one step at the same time you did that, and another name came to your mind.

“Jisung?”

The figure moved closer, a beam of moonlight illuminating half of his shocked face. “You remember me?”

You should’ve yelled. You should’ve shouted at him to get out, called the police, any number of things ahead of what you actually did. Getting even closer, you nodded slowly. “Of course I remember you, Jisung.”

He was still staring at you in disbelief. “And you can see me? Again?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, standing on the step right above him. “You’re a ghost.”

It was meant to be a question, but it came out like a statement, like you had known all along, just saying common knowledge.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

You peered at the space around and behind him. “Is my stepdad here?”

“No.” He shook his head. “He wanted to stay, for your mom. I told him if he stayed, he could get stuck. He decided to go.”

“Go… where?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What about…” You looked up into his dark eyes hopefully. “Is my dad here?”

“It’s just me,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad he’s not… stuck. Either of them.” You breathed out, a mixture of relief and disappointment in your chest. Remembering what he told you at the wake, you asked, “You used to live here?”

“Before your stepdad bought it, yeah.”

You recalled the surprise on his face both tonight and at the wake when you addressed him. “You’re not used to being seen, are you?”

“No, I’m not. You’re the first person who’s seen me since…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek as he seemed to be picking his words. “Since I’ve been like this.”

You nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. “Have you been… helping? Picking up my mom’s book? And closing the door? And the tupperware lid and the fork?”

Jisung nodded fervently. “I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you sad. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you.”

“What about Hyukjun’s glasses today? Did you knock those off?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It was an accident… They were really close to the edge, I didn’t want them to fall off and break. So I tried to move them away from the edge, but there was this thunder, and I dropped them.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the mental image of a ghost getting spooked by thunder, slapping a hand over your mouth as you giggled. Jisung wasn’t laughing, but he did have a soft smile on his features as he looked at you.

“Sorry, sorry,” you were still chuckling as you tried to compose yourself.

“It’s okay…” He assured you. “I’m sorry for dropping them.”

“You didn’t break them, it’s fine.” You looked at him thoughtfully. He was wearing the same thing he was wearing when you met him at the wake, dark pants, dark shoes, a white button-up, and dark cardigan. You tilted your head curiously. “Are you sure my mom hasn’t seen you? She swears the house is haunted, you know.”

“I think she can tell that something is… off, sometimes. But no, she’s never seen me.”

“I’m guessing you have no clue why I can see you right now?” You surmised. “They don’t exactly give you a ghost handbook, do they?”

Jisung shook his head. “No, I don’t know.”

“Thank you again, by the way. For being so nice to me at the wake.”

“They really shouldn’t have been talking to you like that.” He frowned. “They have no clue… He loved you and your mom so much. You two are his family, too.”

You chuckled sadly. “So did you actually hear all of it, then?”

“I was already in there when they went in after you,” he confirmed. “I thought you might… I could create a distraction in another room if it got bad.”

“Do you do that a lot? Follow me around?”

His eyes widened as he clearly began to panic, shaking his head fervently. “N-Not like that! Only like, in normal places! I mean, like, there’s not a lot to do when you’re a ghost stuck in a house, and I think you’re cool—Oh god, I meant, uhm, I mostly stay on the first floor, promise!”

You couldn’t help but giggle again as he had missed the light teasing in your tone. “Mostly?”

Jisung visibly gulped. “I woke you up one time, when your mom was having a really bad time in the middle of the night and your stepdad couldn’t calm her down. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Jisung, it’s okay,” you tried your best to be reassuring, even as you let out choked laughter. “I don’t expect you to sit in a corner for eternity. Thanks for staying in normal places.”

“Thanks for not being creeped out…” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. After it passed, you gave Jisung a sheepish smile. “If I go to sleep right now… will I still be able to see you in the morning?”

“You… want to?”

“Yeah.” You smiled and shrugged. “Better than just talking to my mother, Nayoung, and myself like I usually do every day.”

The corners of his lips twitched as he went to nod. “I’ll try to be here in the morning. You should go to sleep.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Jisung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Halfway up the stairs, you turned back around to see him still standing at the bottom, watching you. You threw back a teasing, “Promise you’ll stay on the first floor?”

“Cross my heart.” He made an X over the left side of his chest.

“Not sure how much that’s worth coming from a ghost,” you grinned. “But I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

In the morning, you sat with your feet dangling over the edge of your bed for an extra few seconds, very calmly contemplating your sanity. You had been spending the majority of your time in this house, talking to nobody else except your mother and Nayoung, who came five days a week for three hours at a time, your only other regular human interaction coming in the form of emails or the occasional phone calls with your co-workers. Was it really so unlikely that your brain was inventing someone new for you to talk to? How could you even determine if he was real or not? Did that even really matter?

With a sigh, you got to your feet and shuffled into your bathroom. Your mom had always been an early riser, something that hadn’t changed now, and you had to take care of your own morning routine before she woke up. While the shift in your schedule initially took some getting used to, the daily alone time that you got to devote to your own self-care was something you treasured, and helped you start your day in a good headspace.

Coming out of your bedroom refreshed and in clean clothes, you meandered down the stairs, listening for any signs of life in the rest of the house. If your mom was up, she would at least be moving around her room, if not elsewhere in the house. And then there was the possibility of seeing the ghost again.

Right as you reached the bottom of the stairs, your mom’s bedroom door opened, and she poked her head out. You smiled and walked over to her.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She took your arm, looking around the hallway.

“You okay?”

“Did he go out?”

You tilted your head, keeping your tone light as you asked, “…He?”

“Hyukjun,” she answered. “He usually leaves a note.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah, he had some errands, said he’ll be back soon. You can get on him about forgetting your note when he gets back.”

Her features relaxed, and she rubbed your back. “Thanks, Y/N. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

There was a knock on the front door then, and you went to go open it up for Nayoung. As she helped your mom with the rest of her morning, you headed towards the kitchen to start on breakfast. A figure was already at the kitchen table, however, his back to you as he sat in the fourth chair that had always been empty for as long as you’d been in the house. Jisung turned around when he heard your footsteps, giving you a small wave.

“Morning,” you smiled and nodded, hoping you didn’t look too put-off. You weren’t sure if you would’ve been more surprised if he was here or not.

“Good morning.” His eyes followed you as you continued into the kitchen. From his seat, he could still see you over the kitchen counter. His hands were folded politely in his lap, and he watched you as you started pulling out ingredients for breakfast.

“So, what do you do all night?” You questioned. “Do you sleep?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I read, or look at the moon, or think.”

“I think I’d hate being alone with my thoughts for eternity.” You shook your head, bringing down plates from the cabinet.

“It’s not so bad.” Jisung shrugged. “I wasn’t much of a talker before anyway.”

“An introvert?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head curiously. “You don’t normally cook for Nayoung.”

You looked down at the plates in your hand and realized that you had grabbed three instead of the normal two. Nayoung always ate breakfast before coming over, so you just had to make food for you and your mom. You’d done this before, accidentally making a serving for Hyukjun out of habit, but you knew that wasn’t what happened this time.

Putting the extra plate back, you said, “No, I was… I think I was about to make you a plate. Felt like I had a guest over.”

Surprisingly, this made Jisung crack a smile. “I appreciate it. Your food always looks good.”

“I don’t think it’s anything special.” You shrugged, turning on the stove. “I learned to cook from my mother, we just did it to survive. Hyukjun was a much better cook than either of us.”

“To survive?”

“After my dad passed…” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of how to phrase it, pushing around food in the pan. “She sort of closed up. My mom gave me a good life growing up, don’t get me wrong. But it’s hard being a single parent, and she never really made any friends, she spent all her time taking care of me or working. Then when I moved out, she closed up even more. I was kind of afraid she’d close all the way up, until she met Hyukjun.”

“I see…”

You heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and halted your conversation. Nayoung and your mom entered the kitchen dining area just a few moments later, paying Jisung no mind, clearly not seeing him at all.

“Y/N, were you on the phone?” Your mother asked as Nayoung guided her to her usual seat.

Nayoung took Hyukjun’s old place beside her.

“Oh, yeah, work call,” you fibbed. “Something urgent, couldn’t wait until I clocked in, I guess.”

“That’s inconsiderate.”

You chuckled, then looked to the aide. “Coffee, Nayoung?”

“If you’re making some, please.”

“Was just about to start a pot.”

Sitting down at the full table with your food and coffee in front of you, your mother to your left, Nayoung across from you, and Jisung to your right, you couldn’t help but smile, an odd sense of peace settling in your chest that hadn’t been there in quite some time.

That night, after your mother went to sleep, you traipsed into the kitchen, opening up the freezer. Turning to Jisung with the carton of ice cream in your hand, you said, “I don’t suppose you could help me with this?”

“Unfortunately not,” he chuckled.

“Figured I would ask,” you sighed, grabbing a spoon. “Come on, I’m thinking a movie?”

Curled up in the corner of the couch under a blanket, you had just opened the ice cream when you realized you left the remote on the coffee table out of your reach. Jisung was still standing, seeming unsure of where to sit.

“Can you pass me the remote?” You requested, stretching an arm out towards it but ultimately not reaching it.

“Oh, sure, sure.” He picked it up with ease just like you would, handing it off to you.

“Thanks.” You turned the TV on. He was still standing, so you gestured to the rest of the empty couch. “Sit, Jisung.”

“Right,” he mumbled, taking a seat next to you.

“You haven’t seriously been standing there like that this whole time, have you?”

“I… sit sometimes, yeah.”

“Good.” You patted his arm—or you tried to pat his arm, but instead your hand hit the back of the couch, a cold shiver running up your arm starting at your fingertips. You jerked your hand back in alarm, eyes going wide. “Shit! Sorry! Did I just like, smack your lung or something?”

Jisung laughed hard, his nose scrunching up and his hand flying up to cover his mouth as he giggled. “I’ve never thought of it like that. I don’t—I don’t think so, no.”

“It didn’t like, hurt, did it?”

“No. Feels a little weird, like… Ah, I don’t know how to describe it if you’re still corporeal. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay good,” you breathed out. Looking down at the remote in your hand, you frowned thoughtfully. “How come you could grab this just fine, but I just go through you?”

“It used to happen with objects, too,” he informed you, reaching his hand out towards the coffee table. The ghost moved it down, his hand effortlessly gliding through the table just like yours had gone through him a few moments earlier. “I can control it now. But for some reason, people, I still can’t.”

“That sounds… lonely.”

Jisung shrugged, offering you a sort of sad smile. “Hey, I just spent a few decades not being seen or heard by anybody either. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Alright, what are we feeling?” You hummed as you pulled up the streaming service. “Ghost movie?”

He gave you a skeptical look. “You hate horror movies. You made Hyukjun turn all the lights in the house on when he put ‘Saw’ on.”

“Aw come on, no laugh? Not even a chuckle? Ironic scoff?” You wrinkled your nose at him.

“I’m laughing on the inside.”

“I was very brave for watching it all, though, wouldn’t you agree?” You grinned, grabbing a big spoonful of ice cream.

Jisung’s amused smile was apparent that time. “Very. If I had gold stars to give out, you’d get one.”

“Okay, what about ‘The Batman’? The one with Robert Pattinson, I literally don’t care about the other ones.”

“I’m not sure who that is, but sure.”

“Jisung, I’m about to change your afterlife. Possibly for the worse.”

From when you woke up to when you went to sleep, if you were at home, Jisung was usually around. You found that you didn’t mind his presence, if anything it was comforting, he made the house feel less empty than it would be with just you and your mother—and occasionally Nayoung. You had to catch yourself from talking to him when your mom or Nayoung were within earshot, or looking too obviously at where he was standing or sitting when they were in the room. Your evenings that you used to spend with Hyukjun were now spent with the ghost, watching shows or movies, showing him your favorite music, or just talking.

This morning, as your mom bathed herself and Nayoung waited for her in her bedroom, just in case, you had some extra time. Which you were glad for, as you knew you were moving slow, feeling more like a zombie than a functioning human being as you prepared breakfast. You yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand before gripping the tomato again and continuing your cuts.

“So what—”

“Y/N!” Jisung’s cry of warning came before you registered your tomato juice-slickened fingers slipping down the food and under the blade.

You looked down to see crimson red welling up and joining the tomato’s seeds at the same time you felt coldness on your hands. Jisung had tried to grab you, both too late, and in an ill-fated attempt even if he hadn’t been, as his hands went right through yours. You belatedly hissed as your sleep-slogged mind finally registered the pain, made extra by the sting of tomato juice in the cuts. Jisung swore under his breath as he grabbed a kitchen towel instead, wrapping it around your fingers and pressing hard as his other hand knocked the knife out of your uninjured fingers that were still lamely holding it. He reached over to turn the sink on, and pulled you over there by the grip he had on the towel. He couldn’t move your hand under the water once he took the towel off, though, staring at you pointedly.

“Right,” you mumbled, putting your fingers under the stream of the faucet to rinse the cuts clean of tomato guts. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“What—” He was cut off by the doorbell ringing.

You hurriedly ripped off a wad of paper towels to press to your cut, calling out to Nayoung, “I’ll get it!”

You knew Jisung was following you, not bothering to keep his sighs quiet as you peered through the peephole first—habit. A pit formed in your stomach when you recognized the man standing on your doorstep immediately.

Forcing your features into a pleasantly neutral expression, you opened the door just enough to greet your eldest stepbrother. “Good morning, Seohyuk.”

He fixed you with the same wide, dazzling grin that he always had, one that made you think he should be doing real estate instead of whatever his real job was—investment broker or something. He was in a suit, looking like he had stopped by on his way to work. You bit back the urge to look down at your own lounge clothes and hair still damp from your shower.

“Y/N! Good morning!” He was still beaming. “Looking beautiful as always.”

“Can I help you?” You asked politely, stepping onto the porch and forcing him to back up a step off the welcome mat, keeping one hand on the door handle.

He then seemed to have noticed your hand. “Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Nicked myself with a knife in the kitchen just now. I’m fine,” you shrugged off his concerns. “Why are you here?”

“Oh my god! We should go in and get that washed out!” His hands fluttered over you with feigned worry, trying to usher you back into the house, put you stayed put, firmly shutting the front door behind you.

“I already washed it out,” you informed him flatly. “What do you want?”

The expressiveness immediately dropped off his face, and a cool, suave smirk overtook it as he sized you up. “Alright. Big girl can handle herself.”

“We’re both adults, Seohyuk, I’d appreciate it if you can act like one and get to your point.”

“Funny, my dad never seemed to think you were one,” he sneered. “You were the little princess he never got to have.”

“If this is all you came for, I’m going back inside,” you sighed, reaching for the handle again.

“I came to inspect the property.” He finally gave you his reason, holding his chin up. “As is my right, to make sure you’re not letting it go to ruins. So you have to let me in.”

Right, as if the house could’ve fallen to the wayside and become dilapidated in a week. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. It was easier like this, just one of them. Especially Seohyuk, he didn’t have a temper like his younger brothers, nor did his words cut as deep as his mom’s, he was just… a jerk. You could deal with a jerk.

“And, as I’m sure you saw when you continued reading the papers, you have to give me at least twenty-four hours’ notice before conducting any inspection of the property. So, I will see you in twenty-four hours.” You grabbed the door handle again. “Goodbye, Seohyuk.”

You didn’t wait for his response, rushing inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You locked it up as quick as you could, not wanting to take any chances.

“You’re not seriously going to let him come in here?!” Jisung blurted out, wide eyes focused on you. Of course he heard everything again.

As you opened your mouth to answer, Nayoung stepped out your mom’s room hesitantly, worried eyes focused on you. You turned to her instead, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Is there anything I can do, Y/N?” She asked quietly. You didn’t want to know how much she had heard.

“I’ll try to arrange it so the inspection is during your time. If she’s up for it tomorrow, could you take my mom on a walk? I need to be here, and she really shouldn’t be.”

The aide nodded quickly. “Of course, yes.”

Back in the kitchen, Jisung pulled the first aid kit down, and you applied your own bandages to the cuts on your fingers. You could feel his eyes boring holes into your hair as you bowed your head to pay extra close attention to your injuries.

“Y/N—”

“What did you want me to do, Jisung?” You hissed, not meaning for it to come out as venomous as it did. “They’re entitled to inspect the premises, it’s technically also kind of their house. I would’ve been in bigger shit if I told him no!”

The ghost was quiet, and when you finally looked up, you saw the hurt on his own face. You sighed, throwing away the bloody paper towels and bandage wrappers. Rolling out your shoulders and your neck to relieve the tension that had built up there, you loosely wrapped your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I’m not mad at you, none of this is your fault. I’m just… stressed, and I slept like shit last night. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he reassured you. “I just… hate the idea of you and that guy being in this house by yourselves, you know? I don’t trust him.”

“Oh, we won’t be alone.”

“I know I’ll be here, but that’s not the same as having someone who could actually do something.”

“I know you’ll be here, and that’s reassuring,” you replied, an amused smile playing at your lips. “But that’s not entirely what I meant.”

“Mr. Shin, thank you for coming on such short notice,” you greeted the attorney with a polite bow, welcoming him into the house.

Mr. Shin was an older man, around Hyukjun’s age, with salt and pepper hair, who hastily returned the bow. He wore a simple black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie, thick-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he held his black briefcase tightly to his side. He was exactly as you pictured him from speaking to him on the phone yesterday—when you picked up Hyukjun’s papers, you’d only dealt with his secretary.

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s my duty,” he replied briskly. “Your stepbrother has not arrived yet, has he?”

“No, I’m expecting Seohyuk in a few minutes.”

“Good, good.”

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?”

“No, thank you, I couldn’t intrude.” He shook his head fervently. “Your mother isn’t home, is she?”

“She stepped out for a walk just before you arrived. She doesn’t need to be here, does she?”

“No, no, not at all.” He seemed relieved at this news, if anything.

The doorbell rang then, and you smiled at the lawyer. “That should be him.”

Looking out the peephole first, it was in fact Seohyuk. You opened the door wider than yesterday, offering him a polite smile. “Good morning, Seohyuk.”

“Alright, Y/N, it’s been twenty-four hours, let me in.” He skipped pleasantries entirely, a glare already on his features.

“Of course.” You obliged gracefully, opening the door all the way for him.

He obviously hadn’t seen anybody else, as he faltered upon stepping inside and spotting Mr. Shin in the entryway. It was as if a magic spell had been cast on him, Seohyuk straightened up, adjusting his own tie and throwing on his charming smile, offering a hand out to him. “Kim Seohyuk, nice to meet you.”

Mr. Shin once again bowed formally, ignoring the hand in front of him. “Attorney Shin. I’m the lawyer in charge of your father’s estate, and I’ll be overseeing this inspection.”

“Great. Yeah, I’m glad Y/N remembered to call you like we talked about,” Seohyuk lied through his teeth, keeping his voice casual. “She’s been a little all over the place with taking care of her mom by herself since Dad passed, so I offered to, but she insisted she would do it since she only works part-time now.”

You clenched your jaw to not call him a piss-poor liar to his face. Or punch him in the face. His ‘she’s a mess, but we love her’ tone really irked you. Jisung had been lurking in the corner the whole time with his arms crossed over his chest and chose now to mimic choking Seohyuk—it took everything in you not to burst out laughing, but it successfully dissolved the anger that had been bubbling in your veins.

Mr. Shin either didn’t believe him or didn’t care, as he simply nodded and then looked to the both of you. “If there are no questions, we will begin in the kitchen.”

The inspection was uneventful—you passed with flying colors, of course—and at the end, you got to see both Mr. Shin and Seohyuk out at the front door simultaneously.

“I will be making note of this in the estate’s file, of course,” Mr. Shin said in closing. “So as to not intrude on Ms. Y/L/N and her mother too much, inspections are limited to once per year, as you know.”

“What?!” Seohyuk’s jaw dropped. “Th-That’s per person, right? Like, if my brothers wanted an inspection—”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Kim. One inspection of the property per year. Unless good cause is shown.”

“Good cause? Like what?”

“If there is some damage externally that would lead you to believe Ms. Y/L/N has caused similar damage internally, or if she posted pictures to her social media of the inside that showed some damage. Something like that.”

You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing in Seohyuk’s face as his jaw gaped open like a dead fish. After composing yourself, you gave the both of them a cheerful wave. “So I guess I’ll see you two next year.”

“And hopefully not any sooner!” Mr. Shin confirmed, bowing deeply once more.

You closed the door with a satisfying click. Turning back around to Jisung, you finally burst into laughter with him. He pumped his fist victoriously. “Gone until next year!”

Holding your hand up, you cheered, “Whoo! Come on, ghost five!”

Jisung whooshed his hand through yours, and the chill zipping up your arm only served to make you more excited. Finally, a win in all this.

3:16 a.m.

You glared at your bedside clock like it was doing this to you personally. Rolling onto your other side, you let out a disgruntled sigh. No matter how comfortable you were, how exhausted your bones and your brain were, you couldn’t fucking sleep. Sitting up, you threw your covers off of you and padded out of your room.

In the kitchen, you drank a glass of water, but couldn’t bring yourself to go back upstairs to your room. You wandered into the living room, plopping into your usual corner of the couch and pulling your knees to your chest. Turning your phone on, you once again glared at the time like it was invented to hurt you in particular.

3:20 a.m.

You could be doing something better right now, reading a book, laying very still with your eyes closed, meditating, anything but scrolling on your phone.

3:49 a.m.

Had you ever gotten a good night’s sleep in your life? You couldn’t remember in that moment. Your eyes stung looking at the screen, they stung when you closed them, but you blinked it away.

4:17 a.m.

“Y/N?” Jisung stepped into the living room. “Why are you still up?”

“Mm, Jisung, hey,” you greeted him dully, setting your phone aside on the arm of the couch. “I’m surprised it took you this long to find me.”

“I figured you were just getting a glass of water or something. I didn’t want to bother you. But you’ve been out here for almost an hour now.”

You sighed, resting your chin on your knees. “Can’t sleep.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I slept for a couple hours, but then I woke up and I just... couldn’t go back to sleep,” you sighed.

“Staring at that screen isn’t going to help you get back to sleep.” He frowned.

That made you chuckle. “And how do you know that?”

“Your mom used to get on your stepdad about using screens too close to bedtime,” he confessed. “Something about the light keeping your brain awake.”

You smiled as you could imagine that perfectly. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Can I do anything to help? Do you want like, hot chocolate? Or…” He trailed off as he was clearly wracking his brain for another option.

“You want to keep me off my phone?”

He nodded.

You stood up, your fingers tapping over the spines on the bookcases before you grabbed one. You offered it out to Jisung. “Read to me.”

Jisung gently took the book from you, then nodded to the couch. “Sure. Lay down.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” you snorted, taking your phone back off the arm and heading for the stairs. Tilting your head indicatively, you said, “Come on, you get to go to the second floor.”

His footsteps were quiet behind you, squeaking some of the same steps that you did as he followed you up the stairs. You opened the door to your bedroom, stepping in first and holding it open to gesture him in as he had stopped uncertainly by the threshold. Closing the door behind him, you then sat down on your bed again.

“Here.” You patted the empty side of the bed for him.

Jisung shuffled over, sitting up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out on top of your sheets. With amusement, you noted that he was no longer wearing his dark shoes, only black socks. You laid back down under your covers again, pulling your blankets up to your chin.

He clicked the lamp on his side of the bed on, and seemed to have read the title for the first time then. “Poems?”

“My mom used to read to me every night, way past the normal age that you stop doing that stuff I’m pretty sure. And whenever I got nightmares, or couldn’t sleep, I’d climb into her bed. It didn’t matter if I woke her up at two in the morning, she’d grab one of the five or ten books that were always on her nightstand and start reading to me until I fell asleep,” you explained, readjusting your pillow under your head. “That was one of my favorites. I figured it was worth a shot.”

Jisung opened the book to the first poem and began reading. His voice was soft and steady, deep and soothing. Despite your want to keep watching him and the focused look on his face as he read, his dark eyes following the words on the page, your own eventually fluttered shut against your will.

When you woke up, Jisung was no longer in your room. The book was resting on the nightstand on that side of the bed, and the lamp was off. Upon entering the kitchen, you saw Jisung standing at the humming microwave. He perked up when you walked in, despite the confused look on your face.

“Good morning!” He said brightly, then gestured to the microwave. “I’m making you hot chocolate. I heard the shower.”

“And if my mother had walked in and saw the hot chocolate making itself?” You asked dryly, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes. Your shower didn’t do much to wake you up this morning.

Jisung visually deflated, looking around guiltily. “Oh. Right…”

“It’s sweet, Jisung, thank you,” you added with a smile, watching his shoulders relax. “You’re very sweet. I just don’t want to give my mom a heart attack.”

“Of course.” He was smiling again too. “Sorry.”

Sitting halfway down the stairs with Jisung, you stared blankly at the front door. Dinner had been difficult for your mom tonight, and with no Nayoung at that meal, you had to do it all on your own. She was asleep now, and you held your head in your hands. Jisung was quietly sitting beside you, resting his elbows on his knees as his laced and unlaced his fingers in front of him. This was probably one of the best parts about having Jisung around. Despite being practically omnipresent at this point, if you didn’t want to talk, he didn’t talk. If you wanted to chat, he would talk to you about anything, but if you wanted utter silence, he would let you sit in utter silence—he just wouldn’t let you do it alone.

You felt nearly suffocated by the house in that moment, but you couldn’t leave your mom alone.

“Can you go outside?” You lifted your head to ask Jisung.

“Not very far,” he answered as if you were asking any other piece of trivia about him and his predicament.

“The porch swing?”

“Yes, I can go there.”

“Do you want to? Now? With me?”

He chuckled softly. “When have I ever told you no?”

It was a warm night, which you were glad for as you were only in your sleep shorts and a t-shirt as you sat on the wooden porch swing with Jisung. Holding the chain next to your head with one hand, you peered out at the nighttime around you, glad to be out of those walls finally.

“Pretty moon,” you commented, looking up at the silver half-moon above you.

“Mhm,” Jisung hummed his agreement.

“And stars,” you added, taking in the twinkling dots all around the moon.

“Mhm.”

“Pretty stars,” you clarified.

“Mhm.”

Looking at Jisung out of the corner of your eye, you kept the same tone of voice as you said, “Pretty garbage can.”

“Mhm.”

“Jisung?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Uhm… nothing.” He coughed. “Pretty moon.”

“Mhm.” You hummed back in the same sing-songy tone that he had. “I wish I could touch you.”

“Huh?” He spluttered out.

“Just feels like a nice moment to rest my head in your lap, don’t you think?” You looked over at him, meeting his dark eyes.

He looked down at his legs, then around him in what you would almost call an attempt to avoid your gaze. “Well… we could put one of the pillows on the swing where my lap is, and you can rest your head there and pretend it’s me.”

“That won’t be uncomfortable for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just make sure it’s not too far over here, I don’t want to make you cold.”

After you settled onto your back with your head on a pillow, right on the edge of where Jisung’s thigh started, you could see Jisung and the porch roof directly above you. The corner of his mouth twitched as he looked down at you, and you smiled back up at him.

“Can you push the porch swing?” You requested.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you felt the swing gently push off backwards then sail forward.

You rolled your head to the side to be able to look at the moon again.

“Can I ask…” You poked your tongue on the inside of your cheek. “How did you die? If you want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

Jisung sighed. “I don’t know. I went to sleep one night and when I woke up, I wasn’t in my body anymore.”

You felt your eyes widen involuntarily. “Seriously? You weren’t sick or anything?”

“I felt fine,” he confirmed. “I didn’t even realize until I couldn’t grab the handle to open my bedroom door and leave. My hand just went through it. When I turned back around to my bed, I saw myself lying there. I thought I was still dreaming.”

“God... I’m sorry, Jisung.”

He shrugged, his fingers messing with the edges of the pillow that your head was on. “It could’ve been worse. It didn’t hurt, I wasn’t dreading the end or anything.”

You reached for his face, despite knowing that it wouldn’t work, holding your hand up as if you were cupping his cheek, hovering right on the edge of where your skin passed through each other. “Does that... I always feel cold when I try to touch you. Is this warm? To you?”

“I never notice that I’m cold until I touch you.” He hesitantly put his hand over yours. “Like when you’ve been outside during winter for so long that you don’t even feel temperature anymore. And then you step inside again and you can suddenly feel just how cold you are because everything else is so warm.”

“Is it… I don’t know, nice?”

“It’s… a lot,” he admitted. “It’s not bad, but I can never warm up.”

“Oh.” You took your hand back, resting it on your stomach.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “Are you tired?”

“No, but I should probably head to bed.” You sat up reluctantly.

Only a few minutes after saying your goodnights, you were at the bottom of the stairs again, searching for Jisung. You found him in the living room.

“Can you read to me?” You asked, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt.

He chose a book off the shelves and followed you upstairs wordlessly. Back under your covers again, you listened to the sound of his fingers running over the edges of the pages, folding back the cover of the book before he started reading. It wasn’t the same book of poems as last time, instead you fondly recognized it as one of your favorite books from when you started reading novels as a kid, about a young girl who went on a grand fantasy adventure with all sorts of magical creatures. In the back of your mind, you thought to yourself that you were a little disappointed that you’d be asleep before the end, when she finally came home to her mother in the real world. That had always been your favorite part.

“Do cameras work on you?” You asked Jisung as you kneeled by one of the flowerbeds at the front of the house. It was early in the morning, and you made sure to keep one headphone in your ear so that any passerby who did happen by on morning walks or jogs would hopefully just think that you were on a phone call.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, sitting on the porch swing. “I think I would’ve found out if I was in the background of any Kim family photos over the years.”

Curious, you took out your phone, opening up the camera and pointing it at him. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but in the low light you could see the porch swing just fine, seemingly rocking along on its own on your screen. Taking just one picture, you paused your weeding to look at it from your camera roll. Again, you definitely couldn’t see Jisung sitting on the porch swing like you could with your own two eyes, but there was something going on in the picture this time. The air seemed to shimmer and distort in the vague shape of a person sitting in the photo, exactly where he was in real life. You zoomed in on the fuzzy edges that nearly turned into shadow, squinting as you tried to make out whether the distortion was in the image file itself or part of Jisung somehow.

“Well?” Jisung questioned, tilting his head.

“I got... something.” You stood up, walking over to show him. “It’s not what I see when I look at you. I see, like, a person.”

“Oh.” His face fell as he looked over the photo of the strange figure.

“I think it’s cool,” you tried to cheer him up. “Very mysterious, you know.”

He gave you a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“I get why you’re bummed, though. It’s probably been a while since you’ve seen yourself, right? I never see your shadow or your reflection. Can you?”

“No, I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s… I have my dad’s nose, and my mom’s smile. I just thought that even if I couldn’t see them anymore, it’d be nice to see the parts of them that are in me.”

You blinked back the tears that were pricking at your eyes. “I know what you mean. My dad’s mom was alive when I was younger, and she always said I looked just like him. I used to sit on my bathroom counter in front of the mirror with an old picture of him from when he was a kid for hours to try to see it too.”

“Do you look like him?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t you see it? I look just like my mom,” you laughed and shook your head.

Jisung chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to spoil your connection to your dad for you.”

“It makes me happy to know that my grandmother saw my dad when she looked at me anyway.” You permanently deleted the photo you’d taken of Jisung. “I’m sure you have something else from your parents that you don’t need a mirror for, though. Like, for me, when I laugh really, really hard, I start wheezing—it’s honestly an awful sound—and clutch my sides and stomp my left foot. My dad would laugh with his whole body like that too. I didn’t even know until my mom pointed it out a few years ago out of the blue. I sneeze like Hyukjun now, too. Don’t even know how I picked that up in such a short time. I was dusting the other day and when I sneezed, I realized it sounded just like him.”

“Really?” He laughed, a real one this time.

“Yeah,” you smiled fondly at the memory. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of pieces of your family in you other than your nose and your eyes, Jisung.”

The ghost held your gaze, his dark eyes that you tried to imagine belonging to some ambiguous father of his that you could never recall, smiling up at you with a smile that matched a memory of his mother you didn’t have. Even if you would never know them, you remembered them in that moment for him.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you leafed through the large tome of local genealogies in front of you. At first you were worried that Mr. Shin would have questions for you as to why you wanted information on the deed of the house, primarily who had owned it before your stepdad bought it. But instead, he simply had his paralegal fetch the information from the previous title search they’d done when drafting the documents for Hyukjun. You took the list of names with you to the local library, where they kept an archive of all sorts of birth, death, and marriage records, including genealogies of local families.

Kim Hyukjun had purchased the home from a husband and wife, the Parks, decades before you were even born. The Parks were the first owners, and despite neither of their names being Jisung, you figured he must be related to them in some way to have lived there before Hyukjun bought it; their son, a nephew, grandson, something.

You finally found a married couple whose names matched, and eagerly read on for their children. They had one child, a son, Park Jisung—deceased.

“Found you,” you whispered to yourself, tapping the name in the book. Taking a picture of all the relevant information, you shut the book and returned it to its place before taking down another one, death certificates.

Finally landing on Jisung’s, you read with bated breath and a morbid curiosity. It started with all the normal stuff—name, age, date of birth, address—and you skimmed on, trying to find the thing that you really wanted to know. But as you got to the end, and desperately re-read again from the beginning, more carefully this time, you realized there was no cause of death listed. They must not have requested an autopsy. As your chest deflated, you shook your head at yourself. What would knowing even change now? You took a quick note of the cemetery listed before shutting the book.

The information—or lack thereof—that you’d gotten from the library was still on your mind when you returned to the house. Nayoung was sitting at the kitchen table, and looked up from her phone when you came in.

“Ah, Y/N, how were your errands?” She asked, clearly noticing your empty hands.

“Fine,” you gave a non-committal answer. “Where’s my mom?”

“She’s taking a nap in her room. She’s been asleep for about fifteen minutes or so.”

“Good.” You glanced at the time on the stove. “You can head out for the day. Thank you, Nayoung.”

“I’ll see you all tomorrow, then.” She stood up and flashed you one more bright smile before showing herself out.

A few moments later, you heard the sound of the front door locking after her, then Jisung entered the room from that direction. He stopped next to you.

“So where’d you go today?” He asked curiously. “You didn’t pick anything up…”

You sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Library. They didn’t have what I needed.”

“What book were you looking for?”

You grimaced at yourself, picking at your nails uncomfortably as you braced yourself to tell the truth. “I wasn’t checking out a book. I was… I was looking up stuff in the archives, about you.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me?”

“I’m sorry, I was nosy and shouldn’t have done that without talking to you first,” you apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’ve got a ghost living in your house,” he reminded you frankly. “Normal personal boundaries aren’t really applicable here.”

“I… guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“And I mean, all you did was look in the archives, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine.” Jisung sat in his chair next to yours, leaning forward towards you eagerly. “What did you find out?”

You chewed your lip nervously. “Not much. I know your full name is Park Jisung. Your parents didn’t have an autopsy done, so we still don’t know why you… passed. I know where they buried… you, though.”

He kept looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. But that was all you had. When he realized that you were done, his face fell, and he let out a breath, sitting back in his chair.

“Oh.” He nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry, Jisung.” You instinctively reached for his hand that was resting on the table. You did a double-take when your hand didn’t impact with the wooden tabletop under him, though, but with him.

Jisung’s hand was cool to the touch, but solid, yours didn’t just slip right through it like usual. You stared down at your hands as you readjusted your grip in disbelief.

Your ghost was similarly bewildered, eyes locked on your hands as he squeezed yours back. “Are you…”

“Yeah, I can actually touch you!” You laughed in amazement.

He looked up from your hand to your eyes, lifting his other hand towards your face. “Can I…?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, or even breathe, in that moment.

Jisung’s fingertips gently caressed your cheek, his eyes filled with wonder as he murmured, “You’re so warm…”

“Are you… you know, cold? Is it like before?”

“No, it’s-it’s nice,” he said, clasping your hand with both of his now. “Thank you. For letting me…”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking around the kitchen.

“It’s funny, it’s one of those things you take for granted until you can’t do it anymore.”

“What?”

“Touch people.” He squeezed your hand softly. “I used to complain when my mom would kiss me, or my friends would give me hugs. Now… I can’t believe I’m holding someone’s hand again.”

You patted his arm, at a loss for words, but hoping that you could give him some kind of comfort in the moment. It sounded like a heartbreakingly lonely existence. You couldn’t imagine what you would do if you could never hug your mom again, or even bump into strangers on the train—small things that reminded you that you were real, that you took up space.

You felt your heart truly shatter when Jisung leaned over, pressing his forehead to your linked hands, and you saw his shoulders shake with quiet sobs.

“Oh, Jisung,” you whispered, scooting your chair closer to gently stroke his dark hair. “It’s okay…”

Tonight had been rough. This was the third night in a row that you had gone in circles trying to calm your mother down from a frightened state, afraid that every creak of the house settling, gust of the air conditioning rustling a curtain, or wind blowing a tree branch outside was a ghost. Despite being aware that your house was actually inhabited by a ghost, you knew it wasn’t Jisung doing any of those things.

You had finally gotten her back to sleep at almost one in the morning, and shut her bedroom door behind you with a sigh. Shuffling into the kitchen, you stopped in the middle of the room, rubbing a hand over your face as you just stared blankly at the countertop. You couldn’t even remember what you had come in here for.

“Hey,” Jisung called for your attention softly, his quiet footsteps approaching from behind you. “Did you want water? Hot chocolate?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know,” you groaned, turning around and burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m so fucking tired, Jisung.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he suggested, trying to usher you out of the kitchen, but you didn’t budge.

Looking up at him, you sniffled, “This is the third night this has happened… I don’t know if I can… What if I can’t—What if—What am I—What if I can’t do it by myself? What if I can’t take care of her like she needs on my own? She’s only going to get worse and I’m… Oh God, I’m tired.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks now as you felt an exhaustion from deep within. You felt it in every fiber of your being, in your bones, deep in your chest. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t feel worn out like this.

Jisung’s eyes widened as his hands frantically fluttered over your arms and shoulders, clearly unsure of where to settle as he went to try to comfort you. “Ah, Y/N, oh, no. Oh, God, I’m so sorry that you feel so tired. You’re doing so good.” He squeezed your shoulders. “You’re not alone. I know it can feel like that, but you’ve got Nayoung, too. Your stepdad left a fund to pay for your mom’s care, right? You can use that to have Nayoung here more if you need her to, can’t you? I’ve heard her ask if you want to adjust her schedule…”

“Yeah, she has,” you nodded, the admission only making you cry harder. “I just—I don’t want to think about needing more help, about needing Nayoung more, because that really means that she’s getting worse. But I can’t—She needs more than me.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jisung said, his own eyes shining in the dim light. “I wish I could make everything better for you.”

You gave him a shaky smile, the best you could muster in the moment, patting one of his hands that were still holding you by the shoulders. “I know. Thank you, just having you here to listen to me means a lot.”

He wiped at your tears with his thumbs, his hands shaking slightly as he gently cradled your face. “Let me help you however I can—you know, without freaking your mom out. You can take care of your mom and I’ll take care of you. Please.”

It was all you could do to nod your head in his hands. He let out a breath of relief.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the kitchen successfully this time.

At the top of the stairs, you stopped and grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t leave me, Jisung.”

He chuckled lightly, lacing his fingers with yours. “Where could I even go? I’m stuck here.”

“I mean, you always leave after I fall asleep,” you explained. “Don’t go this time.”

He nodded, using the index finger of the hand that was holding yours to trace an X over his heart, pulling your hand along with it. “I won’t leave you.”

You fell asleep curled up under your covers, Jisung reading a book of short stories to you, one of his hands resting on your head, fingers gently carding through your hair—a silent reminder of his promise that he would still be there in the morning.

When you woke up, you felt terrible. Not only because of how poorly you had slept lately, but all of your joints and muscles ached, your sinuses felt like they were stuffed up with concrete, your throat was scratchy and sore, and it felt like someone had turned the thermostat up to a million degrees. You winced as you rolled over and threw the covers off of you, already feeling that your sheets and clothes were damp with sweat. Groaning and clutching your head, you involuntarily coughed, having to prop yourself up on your elbow to avoid choking on your own mucus. Gross.

“You’re sick,” Jisung said from the other side of the bed, his voice sympathetic. You’d forgotten that he was even there, actually.

Sitting up, you tried to look as normal as possible, shaking your head. “No, just had something in my throat.”

You winced at the sound of your own voice; it sounded almost as bad as you felt.

“Y/N, you sound awful,” he pointed out. “And you were tossing and turning all night.”

“I’m fine—”

“Y/N.” He was giving you what could only be called a stern pout. “We just talked about this last night.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but faltered at the intensity of his gaze. Letting the tension fall from your shoulders, you grabbed your phone off your nightstand. “I’ll see if Nayoung or another aide can stay all day.”

Jisung finally smiled at that, standing up and moving to leave the room. “I’ll make you breakfast before your mom wakes up.”

You watched him walk to your door, and instead of grabbing the handle to open it, walked right through it. That must be why you were never woken by the sound of the door when he would leave in the middle of the night before.

Once Nayoung arrived, you hauled yourself out of bed and to the doctor’s office. As soon as you got back, you trudged right back upstairs. From the living room, you could hear the sounds of your mother and the aide chatting. In your room, you shrugged off your jacket and had just grabbed the hem of your shirt when Jisung appeared through the door.

“So what did—”

“Ah!” You yelped, yanking your shirt back down and whirling around to stare at him incredulously.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Jisung sputtered out, covering his eyes.

“Knock! I know you can!” You yelled, gesturing at the door with exasperation. “What is wrong with you?!”

“I didn’t think—I’m sorry!” He fully backed up and out of your room through a solid wall, still covering his eyes.

A few moments later, you heard soft footsteps accompanied by creaks on the stairs. Nayoung’s voice came next, “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, Nayoung, I’m fine,” you called back. “Just stubbed my toe getting dressed.”

“Alright…” She didn’t sound like she believed you, but apparently wasn’t going to press the issue. “I have another visit to make today, so another aide from the service will be here in the afternoon to take over from me. Her name is Hyesoo.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll say goodbye when I leave.”

“Thanks.”

You heard her retreat down the stairs, and finished getting changed in peace. Sitting down on your bed, you then heard a soft knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jisung stepped through the door, averting his eyes to his feet guiltily. “Sorry...”

“Forget about it, Jisung,” you sighed, flopping all the way under your covers. “I’m too sick to be mad at you.”

“What did the doctor say?” He asked, perching on the edge of your bed.

“It’s just a cold, but he said that all the stress I’m under isn’t helping,” you huffed, fluffing up your pillow under your head. “He gave me some meds, they’re in my bag.”

Jisung picked up your tote bag from where you’d dropped it by your nightstand, handing it to you. “I’ll get you some water to take them with.”

After he’d left the room, you set two of the bottles on your nightstand, and tucked the third in the drawer. Your ghost came back soon with a glass of water, and you eyed him suspiciously as he gave it to you.

“Nobody saw the floating glass of water?” You questioned, sitting up to be able to properly take a sip.

“Your mom and Nayoung were in the backyard,” he confirmed, watching you knock back the pills. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, shuffling back under the covers. “Sleepy. That doctor’s visit took a lot out of me.”

“Take a nap.”

“Will you wake me up before Nayoung goes?”

“Sure. But sleep right now.”

You were faintly aware of Jisung’s cool hand resting on your head as you let yourself get swept away by sleep.

Blinking your eyes open, you were greeted by the inky blackness of your ghost’s eyes first. Jisung was laying on top of the covers on the other half of your bed, cheek resting on his hand as he gazed at you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you rolled onto your back, suddenly feeling much warmer under the intensity of his eyes.

“The other aide just arrived, Nayoung is getting ready to leave,” he informed you quietly.

“Mm,” you grunted in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Still feel like shit,” you admitted. “The doctor did say the meds wouldn’t start working until the second or third dose.”

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and both you and Jisung went quiet. There was a soft knock at your door.

“Y/N?” Nayoung said your name quietly.

“Yes, Nayoung?” You replied.

“I’m heading out. Hyesoo and your mom are in the living room. There’s an extra serving of lunch, would you like me to bring it up for you?”

You were hungry now, and against your instincts, agreed, “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’ll warm it up for you, give me a few minutes.”

You stared up at the ceiling bitterly, trying to swallow down the uncomfortable, shameful bile rising up in your body. You don’t have to do everything yourself, you can accept people’s kindness, you can let people help you. This was exactly what you were getting upset with Hyukjun for doing, putting others before himself at the detriment of his own health. If you didn’t take care of yourself, your mom wouldn’t have any family left to take care of her—only Hyukjun’s fund to pay for more aides.

“Y/N, I’m setting it down outside your room,” Nayoung’s voice was back outside your door, startling you. You hadn’t even heard the stairs this time. “I made you some tea, too. I hope you feel better. See you tomorrow.”

You were out of your bed and opening the door before Jisung could. Nayoung was still on the top step, and looked over her shoulder, clearly a little startled. You looked down at the plate of food and steaming mug of tea, recognizing it as Hyukjun’s favorite coffee cup. Tears suddenly filled your eyes, but you didn’t move to hug her, knowing that she’d be visiting more elderly and possibly immunocompromised patients today. Instead, you stayed put in the doorway, giving her a small smile.

“Thank you, Nayoung.” You couldn’t string together any more words than that, but she seemed to get it anyway.

She beamed back at you, her young features holding a gentle understanding and wisdom. “You’re welcome. Rest well, Y/N.”

After getting ready for sleep that evening, you were sitting with your feet hanging over the side of the bed, taking your next doses of medications. You took the two on the nightstand, then pulled open the drawer to fish out the one that you had put away earlier. The nap you’d taken earlier had thrown off your sleeping pattern, you weren’t near tired enough despite the time.

“Y/N?” Jisung lightly touched your shoulder. “Everything okay?”

You were staring at the orange pill bottle in your hands, gnawing on your bottom lip. “What if I can’t see you?”

“What?”

“He gave me stuff to help me sleep.” You looked up from the bottle to your ghost. “But what if I take it and I can’t see you anymore?”

Jisung sat down next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and took the bottle from you. He turned it over in his hands as he spoke, “You could see me before you started having problems sleeping, right?”

You thought about this for a moment, then slowly nodded, relieved.

“And even if you took these and couldn’t see me anymore for some reason—I would rather you be well than see me,” he said, pushing the bottle back into your hand and wrapping your fingers around it. He held your eye contact sincerely. “Okay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Okay…”

Jisung watched silently as you opened the bottle, shook one out into your palm, closed the bottle back up, and knocked the tablet back with some water. He stood up to move to his usual spot against the headboard, grabbing the book that was sitting on the nightstand. You crawled under the covers, watching him open the book to where he left off.

“Jisung?”

“Yes?” He turned his gaze from the pages to you.

“Will you—” You sniffled, rubbing at one of your eyes as you yawned. “Will you just lay with me?”

“Oh. Sure.” He closed the book back up and set it aside, then laid down on top of the covers facing you. “Do you want the lamp off?”

“Mhm… please…”

He reached behind him to turn the light off, plunging the room into darkness. You could barely make out the outline of him from a strip of moonlight filtering in from a gap between the curtains. Your eyes were getting heavier, and you desperately fought to keep them open, just in case this was the last time you could see him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jisung murmured. He crossed his finger over his heart. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you managed to mumble back as your eyes fluttered shut.

When you woke up, you were face-to-face with Jisung, his eyes shut this time, eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks. You would’ve almost felt bad for what you were about to do, but you didn’t think that ghosts actually needed sleep, so you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

“Y/N?!” Jisung squeaked, freezing up under you. “What’s—”

“I can see you!” You cheered victoriously, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He let out a sigh of relief, one of his hands tentatively patting your back. “And a good morning to you, too.”

It was a couple weeks later, and you were all better. Just in time for winter, too. You let out a huff as you heaved your groceries up the porch steps, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold air. Unlocking the front door, you grinned when it was immediately opened for you, Jisung on the other side. He closed it behind you, taking your hat off you and brushing stray snowflakes from your hair, his brow furrowed in concentration. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, well aware of the sounds of your mother and her new evening aide, Hyesoo, in the kitchen already. He just smiled and murmured “You’re welcome” back.

“Oh, Y/N, back already, dear?” Hyesoo greeted you brightly as you walked into the kitchen. The two of them were playing cards at the kitchen table. Hyesoo was an older woman, closer to your mom and Hyukjun in age, but insisted on you calling her by her first name nevertheless.

“Yep, just had one stop to make today!” You informed them, putting your bags onto the kitchen counters. “I think the snow kept everyone away, too.”

“It was snowing?” Your mom questioned, the disapproval clear in her tone. “You didn’t walk all the way there, did you?”

“I wore all my layers, Mom, promise,” you chuckled, beginning to unpack the groceries. “And my snow boots!”

“I’ll put those away,” Hyesoo insisted, setting her cards down and standing up. “You go warm up, we’ve got a fire going in the living room.”

“Well, I do have some work to get done before dinner...” You said sheepishly. “Thanks, Hyesoo!”

You took the stairs two at a time up to your room to get your laptop, then ran back down to sit in front of the fire with it. Opening up your email first, you were unsurprised when a familiar figure sat down beside you, holding his hands out towards the flames. You hummed to yourself as you answered a couple emails, marking some under your to-do list to deal with later, getting the easier ones out of the way first.

“Ugh, not him again,” Jisung complained from next to you, having been reading them over your shoulder. “Decline!”

You elbowed him with an eyeroll, whispering under your breath, “He’s my boss, I can’t decline a meeting with him.”

“He’s not technically your boss.”

“Okay, supervisor. Still, I can’t decline a meeting with him.”

“They’re never about anything important.”

“Yeah, that’s every meeting ever.”

“He’s just doing it to talk to you. It’s an abuse of power.”

“We’re working on a project together and he’s actually in the office and I’m not. He gives me updates. It’s helpful.”

Jisung made a ‘hrrmph’ sound, pulling his knees to his chest as he opted to stare into the fire instead. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, mild amusement on your features.

“What? Are you jealous or something?” You teased. “He’s like, married with three kids. Have I not mentioned that? He just doesn’t know how to use computers so he makes everything a video call meeting.”

“Oh.”

“Jealous, jealous...” You said in a sing-song voice. “I already spend almost 24/7 with you, what more could you want?”

You had meant it to be rhetorical, but you swore Jisung’s mouth opened, about to answer, when Hyesoo walked in.

“Hey, I’m going to start on dinner, unless you had something planned?” She pointed to the kitchen over her shoulder.

“No, no, go for it,” you waved her off. “I have to take a call anyway. If I’m late, start without me.”

“Weren’t you just on one?”

So you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d hoped.

“Yeah, different department,” you fibbed quickly, getting to your feet and bringing your laptop with you.

You could hear the soft footfalls of Jisung following you, and at the top of the stairs, you turned around to put a hand on his chest, satisfied that Hyesoo wouldn’t be able to see you here. Jisung pouted, looking down at the hand you had on his chest.

“Work call,” you whispered, gently pushing him back. “Wait downstairs. Please.”

He nodded, not looking very happy about it, but descended the stairs anyway. It’s not like there was anything that happened on your work calls that Jisung couldn’t hear, but you didn’t want to risk a floating object in the background, you looking over at Jisung, or otherwise reacting to him in any way during one of your work calls. It was just easier to concentrate without him there.

The call with your supervisor once again really could’ve been an email, but you didn’t mind catching up with him after you got through the two or three minutes of real work conversation that you had. He was a younger guy, and had been one of the people that you were friendlier with when you actually worked in the office full-time. He filled you in on how his three kids were doing, as well as his wife, who you would always chat with at office social events. He asked about how your mom was doing, and you did inform him that she needed aides in two shifts now, to which he reminded you that if you needed to adjust your schedule or workload, that could be discussed. You appreciated that, but if your workload was any lighter, you wouldn’t be employed, and you needed money. The fund from Hyukjun paid for your mother’s medical care, but you still needed to cover the rest of your living expenses like food, utility bills, incidentals, and yourself.

“And you know those staff dinners that get put on your calendar aren’t just to say we invited everyone,” your supervisor added. “You really are wanted there. We know it’s difficult with your mom, but everyone still talks about you.”

You smiled to yourself. “Thanks. Her evening aide is going to be staying the night a few days a week now, so I might be able to make it out one of these days.”

“No pressure, Y/N. Just wanted to let you know,” he leaned back in his own office chair, and seemed to take a glance at the time for the first time in a while. “Sorry, I’ve kept you for a while.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Choi,” you reassured him. “I always enjoy our chats. Give your family my best, will you?”

“Oh! I’m late for dinner!” He suddenly shot up straight in his chair. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon!”

“Goodbye, Mr. Choi,” you chuckled, hanging up the call.

Closing your laptop, you went back downstairs to the kitchen to see your mom sat at the table, reading a book. Jisung was sitting in his chair across from her, and turned around expectantly at the sound of your feet. You poked your head into the kitchen to check on Hyesoo, who looked like she was still cooking.

“Hi, Mom,” you announced your presence to your mother, coming around the table to her seat.

She looked up at you with a smile, her eyes clearly focusing on you. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders from behind, resting your cheek on the top of her head. She held onto your arms with one of her hands, squeezing gently.

“What are you reading?” You asked, trying to glean any information from the pages that were opened in front of you.

“Oh, this was Hyukjun’s favorite book,” she explained, closing it on her finger to let you see the cover. “I was thinking about him today…”

“I think I read that in a Lit class I took in undergrad,” you commented. “I never knew it was his favorite.”

“Funny enough, it was your father’s favorite too.”

“Here I spent my whole life thinking ‘Goodnight, Moon’ was Dad’s favorite book,” you snickered, referencing the answer he had given you when you were a kid, one of the many children’s books you had at the time.

“Well, he didn’t really want to tell you about this sort of book when you were that little, I think.”

“Can you let me know when you’re done with that book?” You requested. “I think I’d like to reread it.”

“Of course.”

Hyesoo came into the dining area then with three plates, and you let your mom go to take your seat. Your mother set her book aside as dinner was set in front of her.

“Did you look at the mail today, Y/N?” Your mom asked.

“I skimmed it, threw out the junk,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food. “Why? Did you?”

Your mom must’ve had a very good day today. She usually didn’t bother with things like the mail at all.

“Did you see that Seohyuk’s getting married?”

“Yeah, again,” you snorted. This was marriage number three, if you were up to date on your stepbrother lore. “I’m surprised we even got an invite.”

“Y/N.” Your mother said your name sternly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Clearing your throat, you kept your tone more neutral as you said, “Yeah, I saw. Good for them.”

“What do you think?”

“About what? I just said good for them?”

“Going.”

You looked at her incredulously. “Like, to the wedding?”

“He’s family, Y/N.”

“Hyukjun was family,” you didn’t mean to snap at your mom like you did, your voice filling with vitriol. “They’re just three assholes that Hyukjun had the misfortune of being related to. We don’t owe them shit.”

“Y/N!” Your mother gaped at you.

Hyesoo and Jisung had both been silently watching the two of you go back and forth, and you suddenly became aware of the presence of two others in the room again. You took a deep breath in, looking over at the aide.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pushing your chair back from the table. “Good food. I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N, sweetie, can we—”

You ignored your mom’s pleas to talk, scraping off your plate into the garbage and putting your dishes in the dishwasher before storming upstairs. Flopping onto your back on your bed, you stared up at your ceiling fan.

When you heard a knock on your door some time later, you rolled your eyes, but called out to Jisung anyway, “Come in!”

Your door handle turned and opened, revealing not Jisung, and not even your mother, but Hyesoo. She paused at the doorway, obviously aware that you hadn’t been expecting her.

“May I come in?” She requested.

You sat up straight on your bed, nodding. “Sure.”

Hyesoo came and sat beside you, leaving a polite distance between the two of you. “I don’t want to overstep, Y/N… But I imagine there’s some stuff that has happened between you and your stepbrothers that your mom doesn’t know about?”

“Yeah, lots,” you scoffed. “They hate us. They’ve always been rude to me, but ever since Hyukjun left us the house… it’s just gotten worse.”

“When’s the last time you saw or talked to one of them?”

You breathed out. “Uh… probably when Seohyuk came to inspect the property a few months ago now. Mom didn’t even know it happened, Nayoung took her for a walk.”

“Hyukjun was family to you, right? That’s what you just said.”

“Doesn’t meant his shithead sons have to be my family,” you retorted. “They said to me, at his wake, that my mom and I weren’t his family. Like, how awful do you have to be?”

“Hyukjun saw you as his family. His wife’s daughter,” she said slowly. “Do you think, your mom might see Hyukjun’s sons the same way? I’m not saying you have to. But consider your mom’s feelings for a moment.”

You took a deep inhale, trying to separate your thoughts from your own swirling emotions in that moment. “I… I didn’t think of that.”

It was then that you saw she had something in her hands, and she held out two small pictures to you. One was the wedding invite, a picture of Seohyuk and his fiancée smiling on the front. The other was of a young man around Seohyuk’s age, the image grainy, as it was clearly older and taken on film. It was undeniable who this was, though—Hyukjun.

“Your mom was showing me some photo albums earlier, when she saw the wedding invite,” Hyesoo explained. “She didn’t say it, but don’t you think he looks so much like his dad?”

You swallowed the anger in your throat, eyes tracing over the two photos, the similar smiles, the way their crow’s feet crinkled, their noses, cheekbones, and jawlines. It was hard not to see Hyukjun in his eldest son now.

“Yeah, he does,” you agreed.

“Nobody is saying you have to go to the wedding and be best friends with your stepbrothers,” she said. “Or at least, I'm not saying that. But it might be a good idea to think about why your mom would want to go. Those ‘assholes’ are living, breathing pieces of Hyukjun that are still walking around. They’re his sons, and maybe she wants to feel connected to him by connecting with them.”

“He was such a good guy,” you reached for the picture of Hyukjun, holding it between your fingers. “How did he raise three absolute fucking jerks?”

“A mystery we’ll never be able to solve.” Hyesoo clicked her tongue. “I’m about to help your mom get ready for bed, do you want to talk to her before?”

You sighed and nodded. “Yeah, let me do that.”

She handed you the wedding invite as well, standing up from your bed. “She’s in her room. Let me know when you’re done.”

Steeling your nerves, you knocked lightly on your mom’s bedroom door. “Mom? It’s Y/N.”

“Come in, sweetie.”

You opened the door quietly, immediately spotting her sitting on the corner of her bed, as if she had been waiting for you. Sitting down next to her, you took her hand, squeezing it.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” you started. “I should’ve listened to you instead of being rude and talking to you like that. I was only thinking about my feelings about Seohyuk and them, and not yours. Can you tell me more about why you want to go to the wedding?”

“I-I know you and your stepbrothers haven’t gotten along, sweetie,” she prefaced her reasoning. “But… When I think about the fact that Hyukjun won’t get to see this… Even if he did see the first two, you know.”

The both of you snickered a little at that, bumping your shoulders together affectionately. You held the two pictures out to her just like Hyesoo had done to you.

“I get what you’re saying, Mom,” you leaned your head against hers, looking at the nearly identical visages of Seohyuk and Hyukjun. “I miss him too. If this will make you feel closer to him, or that you’re honoring him or something like that, then we should go. I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” She ran a thumb over the picture of Hyukjun.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” You asked Jisung, searching the table for your next puzzle piece. Your mom had gone to sleep and the two of you were putting together a jigsaw puzzle in your relaxing time before your own bedtime.

Jisung dropped his own puzzle piece that he had been trying to place, staring at you from across the coffee table. “My what?!”

“Your birthday. It’s next week.” You finally fished an edge piece out. “When I looked up the genealogy stuff, it had your birthday on there.”

“I mean, I figured that’s how you knew, but I didn’t think you’d actually—I don’t know, I’m surprised.”

“What? It’s probably been a while since you’ve celebrated it, right?” You put your puzzle piece down. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I just figured it might be nice.”

“No, I-I’d like that,” he smiled softly. “Just don’t get me a cake with an accurate number of candles in it, please.”

“I think that’d get more candle wax on it than frosting.” You wrinkled your nose, making him roll his eyes. “Are you telling me I have to plan it? I asked you what you want to do.”

“Just you remembering is enough to make my birthday feel special this year, Y/N.” Jisung reached across the table to grab your hand. “I don’t really care what else happens. But I’ll think of something, promise.”

One week later, and Jisung’s birthday lined up with a night that Hyesoo was staying over, so you couldn’t use the living room, as she slept on the couch whenever she stayed. So the two of you retreated to your bedroom after dinner. Closing the door behind you, you turned to Jisung with your arms crossed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You still haven’t told me what you want to do for your birthday,” you reminded him, tapping your foot. “And your birthday’s almost over.”

“I know what I want,” he reassured you. “But you need to change into your pajamas first, so—”

And with that, he stepped back and through the wall, out of your room. You begrudgingly changed from your casual daywear into your pajamas, then called for him to come back in. Your ghost popped back in immediately, heading towards his side of the bed. You watched him suspiciously as he sat down and grabbed the book on the nightstand. Instead of turning on his lamp as he would usually do, though, he reached over to the lamp on your side of the bed and clicked it on, then offered the book out towards you.

“I want you to read to me tonight,” he requested.

“That’s it?” You frowned.

“That’s it,” he confirmed. “You can sing me ‘Happy Birthday’ too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You took the book from him and sat down against the headboard, pulling your covers over your lap. Jisung laid down on top of the blankets, looking up at you, waiting. You sighed and shook your head, fondly brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Happy Birthday, Jisung,” you said, opening the book to where he had left off when he’d been reading to you.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” Jisung grumbled, handing you a lid to the plastic container.

“Me neither,” you sighed your agreement, snapping the container shut.

Today was finally the day of Seohyuk’s wedding. You, your mom, and Nayoung had just finished up lunch, and the aide would be helping her get ready while you got yourself dressed. Your ghost had made his distaste of the situation plenty clear.

“You couldn’t just send money and a card?”

“My mom wanted to go, and she doesn’t have another daughter to go with her,” you put the leftovers into the fridge. “I would’ve looked like a bitch sending her with an aide while I stayed home. And felt like a bitch.”

“Can’t believe that guy has even found three people who wanted to marry him.”

You laughed heartily at that. “Me neither. It’s got to be the money. Investment brokers make good money, right?”

“To fuck if I know,” your ghost snorted.

“Anyway, stay here while I get ready.”

Jisung saluted you, making you chuckle a little as you left the kitchen. The dress code was cocktail, unfortunately for you, meaning that you had to dress in the nicest outfit you’d worn since Hyukjun’s funeral. Most of your day-to-day wear was lounge clothes lately. After putting on your outfit, and doing your hair and makeup as well, you did a final once-over in the mirror, honestly a bit surprised at yourself.

Walking back downstairs, you could tell that Nayoung was still helping your mom in her room, so you looked around instead for Jisung. You saw his dark head of hair sitting on the couch in the living room, and started that way. He turned upon hearing your footsteps, jaw actually dropping when he spotted you.

“You’re going to catch flies like that,” you teased, pushing his chin back up as you stopped in front of him.

He looked up at you with wide eyes instead. “Woah…”

“Good woah?”

Jisung nodded, standing up and offering you a hand. You gently placed yours atop it, and he lifted it to twirl you around, making a giggle bubble out of you.

“Great woah,” he confirmed. “So not fair you look like this for that asshole’s wedding.”

“It’s not for him,” you scoffed. “It’s for me.”

“Still… I think the bride is going to get jealous.”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes, putting your hand over his mouth insistently, despite you being the only person in the house that could hear him. “You’re awful, you know that?”

He was obviously grinning behind your hand, eyes crinkling up with a mischievous twinkle. You sighed and dropped your hand from his mouth.

“So not fair to be that cute when I’m trying to be mad at you,” you huffed, pinching one of his cheeks.

“Ow,” he pouted, covering the reddened skin once you’d let go.

You heard your mom’s bedroom door open, and her and Nayoung came out a moment later. You walked over to give her a hug.

“Mom, that dress is so pretty,” you complimented her.

“Oh, Y/N,” she cupped your cheek. “You look so beautiful, sweetie.”

“You’re really beautiful, Y/N,” Nayoung added quietly.

“Oh, thank you,” you brushed down your outfit. “Thank you for your help, Nayoung. We should be good to go, I think.”

“Yes, yes, we need to get going!” Your mom clapped her hands together. “Don’t want to be late!”

After putting your mom to bed following the reception, you crept out of her room with your heels in hand. Jisung was at the bottom of the stairs, clearly waiting for you. He held his hands out to take your shoes from you, following you upstairs.

“So how was the wedding?” He asked, stopping outside your door to let you get changed inside in peace.

“Oh, it wasn’t bad, actually,” you answered him as you got undressed. “I think everyone was on their best behavior because it was a wedding, you know?”

“That’s good.”

“Seohyuk’s wife is actually really nice,” you informed him, chuckling in disbelief. “I hope he treats her right. And if not, I hope she’s got a good pre-nup.”

“Did your mom have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, she tore up the dance floor.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” Finally in your pajamas, you called out, “You can come in.”

Jisung materialized through the door, and went to put your shoes away for you that he was still holding. “I’m glad you two had a good time.”

“Me too.” You plopped into bed, feeling the exhaustion of the night hitting you all at once. “I’m almost glad that I went.”

“Almost?”

“I’m still thinking about how I could’ve spent all night in my pajamas instead of getting hit on by Seohyuk’s best man.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm…” You yawned and pulled your blankets up over you as Jisung sat down against the headboard and robotically grabbed the book on the nightstand.

“Was ‘fuck off’ not clear enough for him?”

“Didn’t tell him to fuck off,” you shrugged.

“What?!”

You winced and rubbed your ear. “Loud…”

“Sorry, sorry,” he quieted his voice down again.

“I was bored, and he wasn’t a jerk about it or anything,” you explained simply, closing your eyes and pushing your cheek against your pillow. “Still would’ve rather been here in my pajamas with you, though.”

“Oh. Okay…” Jisung took a deep breath, opening the book up to pick up where he’d left off in the story.

You were putting leftovers from dinner away some nights later as Hyesoo dispensed your mom’s medications for the upcoming week. You knew your worry was written all over your face. Your mom had been having so many good days—so many lucid days—lately, but today was bad. She asked you why you weren’t at school multiple times, refused to eat, and had another fit over the house being haunted. You were putting her plate of food away right now, entirely untouched.

“It was stupid,” you sighed. “For me to think she was getting better. I know her diagnosis—she’s only going to get worse.”

“There will be ups and downs, Y/N,” the aide reminded you gently. “The important thing is to not blame yourself for any of it.”

You sighed. “You’re right. Thanks, Hyesoo.”

“You don’t have work to do after this, do you?”

“A little bit. You’re staying the night, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good, good.”

“You know, I’ve been doing this for a while, dear,” she said kindly, shaking out a few pills. “And while I don’t know everything, I do know you can’t run yourself into the ground trying to take care of them. Or else there will be nothing left of you, and then how will you take care of her?”

“I know, it was hard to focus on work today, that’s all.”

“I mean—I’ve been with you all for some time now, and when was the last time you hung out with your own friends? Or went on a date? You’re a beautiful young lady, you’re doing the world a disservice staying cooped up in here all the time.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Really—”

“I’m being serious! Just think about it, dear. I promise, taking some time to keep living your life now won’t be the end of the world. This way, you’ll have a support system when you need it.”

You nodded in understanding, putting the leftovers away with robotic movements as your brain continued turning over her words.

Just about a week after that conversation with Hyesoo and you were fixing your hair in the mirror when a gentle knock came at your bedroom door. You called out to the person as you continued messing with your hair. “Come in!”

Jisung phased through your door. “Dinner’s ready, are you—”

He stopped his words as he seemed to take in what you were wearing, tilting his head with a curious frown. “You got changed?”

“I’m going out for dinner,” you told him, leaning over to focus on putting your earrings in.

“Out? Like, a work thing?”

“No, I’ve got a date.”

“What? With who?” He sputtered, then collected himself a little. “I mean—This is the first I’ve heard of it. How did you meet them?”

“His name’s Dongmin. I met him at the wedding last week.”

“Wait, don’t tell me he’s the best man you were talking about?”

“He gave me his number.” You shrugged. “So?”

“I thought you didn’t even like him?”

“What does it matter to you?” You crossed your arms.

“What do you—? Of course I care if you’re going on a date with some creepy guy who you don’t like.” Jisung ran a hand through his hair.

“I reached out to him, Jisung.” You didn’t know why you were getting so defensive, why you felt so on edge at the moment.

He crossed his arms. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“I didn’t hide it from you,” you scoffed. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Yeah, but this is—”

“What? This is what?”

He held his hands up in surrender, looking away from you. “Never mind. Hope you have fun.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t passive aggressive,” you snorted, grabbing your phone. “You’re just pissed because I’m the only person you can talk to all day but I get to actually leave this stupid house and hang out with people other than you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jisung glared back at you, raising his voice to match yours. It was quite possibly the most venomous you’d heard the normally soft-spoken ghost be towards you. “You leave the house all the time, you always talk to your mom or her aides. I don’t give a shit.”

You checked the time on your phone, setting your jaw. “I need to go. I don’t have time for you to keep avoiding what you’re actually trying to say.”

“Oh, right, I’m the only one avoiding,” he retorted sarcastically.

“Lalala! Not listening! Too busy avoiding!” You said in a purposefully childish, loud, and sing-songy voice, plugging one ear as you threw your door open and slammed it shut behind you.

The lights in the house were dark when you got back. Good, you didn’t want to face Hyesoo like this. It was already going to be bad enough risking running into Jisung. Hopefully he was still pissed at you and would stay scarce. Taking a deep breath to dampen your sobs for a few moments, you unlocked the front door and opened it as quietly as you could. No paranormal force on the other side opened it for you this time. Hyesoo’s light snores could be heard from the living room, but other than the sleeping aide, the house was eerily silent. You locked up behind you and started up the stairs, but couldn’t even bring yourself to make it all the way to your room. You all but collapsed at the top step, letting your tears stream freely again as you cried quietly into your hands, hunched over your knees.

That was a fucking disaster.

“Y/N?”

You opened your eyes back up at the soft, familiar voice. Jisung was at the bottom of the stairs, hands in the pockets of his cardigan.

“Oh, Jisung, hey.” You didn’t bother wiping your tears this time as you greeted him. He hesitantly shifted his weight from one foot to another. You patted the spot next to you for him. “Déjà vu, huh?”

He sat down next to you on the top step, deep frown on his features. “What happened?”

“Ugh, guy was an asshole,” you sniffed. “Like, I thought he was really nice and everything, but as soon as he realized I wasn’t going home with him, he turned into a jerk.”

“He didn’t…”

“No, he just said a bunch of rude stuff. Called me a bitch, a whore who was just using him for his money or whatever.”

“Y/N—”

“All that, I didn’t really care about,” you admitted, curling your hands into fists and digging your nails into your palms as his words came back to you. “It was what he said about my mom that really pissed me off. Essentially said I should just put her up in a home and get on with my life. I about threw a punch in the middle of the restaurant.”

Jisung let out a light chuckle at that, but the humor in his features didn’t last long. He scooted closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well for you.”

You shrugged, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I expected, really. He was Seohyuk’s friend, of course he was going to be an asshole.”

Jisung wasn’t warm, but you found his cool embrace comforting enough, the steady pressure of his arm encircling you, his sturdy body supporting you as he let you lean against him.

“I’m sorry, for getting upset at you earlier,” he apologized quietly. “You didn’t have to tell me where you were going, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I wasn’t being very fair either,” you replied. “I’m sorry too.”

“But… Why did you go out with that guy? I mean, if he had been nice, would you have… Would he…” Jisung stopped, apparently frustrated at not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “Why not me? I know that sounds so pathetic, but that’s all I wanted to ask you before.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, biting your bottom lip against the emotions rushing up in your chest at his words. “Jisung…”

“I’m not… imagining all this, right? I mean, there’s something here, Y/N. A-A connection.”

“What kind of relationship can you even have with a ghost?” You asked sadly.

“Maybe the kind you need now.” He grabbed one of your hands, holding it tightly in your laps between you.

“I’m going to get older, Jisung,” you reminded him calmly, despite each word piercing your chest like a knife. “Not to mention—I won’t be here forever. Like, in this house. I don’t own it. I’ll have to leave once she… I’ll have to go. I can’t stay here.”

“Does everything worthwhile in life have to last forever?” He murmured, his voice practically begging now. “Tell me you didn’t think about me while you were on that date…”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I can’t…”

“You did? Think about me?”

“The whole time,” you admitted. “Even when it was going okay, I was thinking about you.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up from your entwined hands, realizing that you were gripping onto him maybe even harder than he was you. Meeting his dark gaze, you blinked away a few more stray tears.

You finally let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Until it’s over, you and me.”

A smile overtook his features as he rested his forehead against yours. Readjusting your hand to cover the back of his, you moved his index finger to his chest, tracing an X over his heart. Your ghost watched your movements fondly, echoing, “Until it’s over, you and me.”

“Do you have anything left here that’s yours? Hair in a locket under a floorboard or something?” You questioned, looking around your room.

“What? No,” Jisung scoffed.

“Figured I’d ask.”

The two of you were brainstorming. Jisung really wanted to be able to go somewhere out of the house with you, but the best ideas you had of course came from popular ghost media.

“Your stepdad kept a lot of the original house fixtures when he bought it. Maybe one of those,” your ghost suggested.

“I’m not carrying a faucet around in my purse,” you replied frankly. “Not to mention, I’m not allowed to damage the house while I live here. My stepbrothers could sue me for anything that’s not exactly how it was when Hyukjun left it.”

“What about…” Jisung walked through the closed door, and you could hear the squeak of the stairs as he went down them. A few moments later, he went back up them, then came through the door again. He held out something in his closed fist towards you.

You stretched out your hand palm-up, and he opened up his fingers to drop a small piece of metal into it. It had some weight to it, and you turned it over in your hand to get a better look at it. It looked like a knob to a cabinet or drawer, in the shape of an eight-pointed starburst. It wasn’t familiar to you at all, it didn’t look like he had taken it off any place in the house that you could tell.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Where…?”

“It’s one of the original knobs that was on the cabinets in the kitchen,” he explained. “Your stepdad’s first wife wanted them all replaced when she moved in. He put them in a box in the laundry room closet and they haven’t been touched since. I doubt your stepbrothers even know about them. She probably thought he got rid of them.”

“These were on the cabinets when you lived here?”

“Yep.”

You pocketed the cabinet knob. “Can’t hurt to try.”

Once you’d given your mom and Nayoung your goodbyes, you headed for the front door. Jisung was right behind you, looking positively giddy as he watched you put your shoes on.

Patting your pocket again to reassure yourself that the cabinet knob was in there, you stepped down from the porch and onto the walkway. After nodding politely to a jogger going by, you looked around hesitantly at the empty space on either side of you.

“Jisung?” You said quietly.

“I’m here.” He appeared next to you, beaming down at you. “I’m here.”

The two of you had never gone past the porch swing, not even down to the flowerbeds you had continued to tend to. You grabbed his arm to pull him down with you as you squatted in front of the snapdragons that had just come back into bloom. Pride and bittersweet nostalgia welled up in your chest as you looked at the flowers that used to be Hyukjun’s hobby.

“Do you know the secret with these?” You asked Jisung.

“No?” He replied, tilting his head.

You reached out to gently squeeze the sides of a pink flower, making the dragon’s “mouth” open and close. “You can make their mouths open and shut.”

Jisung watched you fondly, then tried it on another bloom. He giggled. “That’s kind of fun, actually.”

Standing back up, you continued to the end of the house’s short walkway, stopping on the sidewalk.

“This is the furthest I’ve been in… a while,” he said, eyes shining.

“We’re still in the lay lines of the property…” You kept your hopes guarded. “I don’t want to call it a success yet.”

Walking down the sidewalk, you kept your eye on Jisung the further you got from the house, waiting for him to hit some invisible barrier and disappear entirely, or at least flicker or something else to indicate that he was losing his connection to the house. But he looked… normal. Fine.

When you were a full three blocks away from the house, Jisung grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Would you stop looking at me like I’m going to die again?” He joked.

“Sorry, sorry,” you sighed. “I just… can’t believe it. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Great!” He grinned.

You'd never seen Jisung in direct sunlight before, only ever the lights of the house, sunbeams that filtered in through curtains and windows, or moonlight at night. You were surprised at how… normal he looked. His skin had a lifelike rosy tint to it in places, his hair shone and reflected a dark brown at some angles, and he didn’t have any sort of ghostly pallor to him. The only thing that didn’t change were his eyes, still as dark and enrapturing as ever, his pupils melting into his irises.

“So where are we going?” He asked, swinging your linked hands.

“You’ll see.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go, hearing the sounds of other people around the corner that you were about to turn.

The destination you had in mind wasn’t very far, which was good, because your shoulder was getting tired carrying your tote bag. Veering off the sidewalk at a seemingly random place, you walked through a gap between two bushes. Jisung followed you diligently, keeping whatever questions he had to himself. The path underfoot was overgrown with grass and clover, only a path to a keen observer, or those who already knew it was there.

Finally, you ducked around a large tree and emerged at a clearing in front of a small pond. Jisung looked around in wonder as you proudly put your hands on your hips.

“Hyukjun and I came out here a couple times, when he and my mom first got together,” you explained. “Bonding stuff. I’m happy I remembered where it was.”

“I think…” Jisung slowly turned around in a circle, still taking it all in. “I think my friends and I used to swim here in the summer. And when the pond would freeze in the winter, we’d skate…”

He walked over to the largest tree nearby, fingers tracing over the bark that had endless initials carved in it, until he squatted down by the base. “Yeah. I didn’t recognize the streets when we were walking over here, but…”

You joined him by the tree, watching as he pointed out a cluster of initials, seven in total, ending on PJS. “There you all are,” you said quietly. “I didn’t even know this was here.”

“They’re probably all old men now,” Jisung chuckled, a laugh that you could tell was forced.

You reached for his hand, holding it with both of yours. “It’s okay to be sad that you didn’t get to grow old with your best friends, Jisung. I know you’re the one that passed away, but have you mourned them yet? All your friends and family that you didn’t get to see grow old?”

“Damn it.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to make you all sad on our first real date.”

“I’m dating a ghost,” you pointed out, running your thumb over the back of his hand. “I think a little doom and gloom comes with the territory.”

“To answer your question, I haven’t thought about it like that,” he sighed. “I always felt bad that I left them, that they had to mourn me. But I never… grieved the fact that I lost them too.”

“I don’t want to make you sad on our date, either,” you panicked a little at the shadow that had fallen over his features, moving to wrap an arm around his shoulders and hug him. “I’m sorry!”

Jisung laughed a real laugh this time, hugging you back. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s better than feeling guilty for something I had no control over.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“I honestly hadn’t even thought about coming here with them in so long… Really, it’s nice to remember them all again.”

You let go of him to reach into your tote, pulling out the large picnic blanket you’d brought with you. “How about instead of the both of us making each other sad, you tell me a bunch of fun stories about your friends while I enjoy the picnic food I packed?”

He pecked your forehead, taking the blanket from your hand. “Deal.”

The pond had become one of yours and Jisung’s favorite spots to go when you could find time between work and your mom. The two of you could get out of the house together without risking you getting some very strange looks in public. Sometimes you brought a picnic, sometimes books or a crossword puzzle or deck of cards or just laid on your blanket and tried to find shapes in the clouds. Every so often, you’d get someone coming by walking their dog, or a gaggle of kids cutting through from one of their backyards to another, but nobody ever paid you much more attention past a ‘hello’ or ‘lovely afternoon, isn’t it?’

After submitting a big project at work, you finally had some free time again. As long as your mom was having a good day today. She’d been more sensitive to you leaving the house lately on her bad days, and while the aides promised that she always calmed down eventually, you hated causing her so much stress if it was avoidable—errands were one thing, but a date with your ghost boyfriend that already haunted your residence could take a raincheck.

You looked in the living room first, then the dining area and kitchen, and frowned thoughtfully when you couldn’t find your mother and Nayoung. Turning around, you were greeted by Jisung, who pointed to the backyard knowingly.

“They’re in the back drinking lemonade,” he informed you. “She’s having a good day.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, Jisung,” you let out a breath of relief, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you passed by on your way back into the living room.

Opening up the door that led onto the back porch, you immediately spotted your mom and Nayoung sitting beside each other on two rocking chairs, a pitcher of lemonade between them as they overlooked the small backyard. Their conversation stopped when they heard the door open, both of them turning to look at you over their sunglasses.

You held your hands up defensively. “Woah, I feel like I just interrupted something…”

“Yes, you can go, sweetie,” your mom said knowingly.

“What?”

“You finished your work and are checking on me to see if you can go out.” She took a sip of her lemonade, pushing her sunglasses back up and settling back into her chair again. “I’m telling you I’m fine, and you can go.”

“Nayoung?” You turned to the aide. “Everything okay—?”

“We’re fine, Y/N!” Nayoung waved you off with a smile. “Really!”

“Alright, alright.” You surrendered, backing up towards the door again. “I’ll be back before Hyesoo gets here.”

“What day is it, Nayoung?” Your mom asked.

“Wednesday.”

“You know, my memory isn’t the best, remind me, when does Hyesoo stay the night?”

“Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“Hm.” Your mom tsked. “Interesting…”

Nayoung didn’t add anything further, but giggled as she took another sip of her lemonade.

“You two are nuisances,” you scoffed and shook your head, finally heading back inside.

You beelined for your bedroom, finding your ghost already sitting on your bed clearly waiting for you.

“Oh yeah, she’s having a great day,” you snorted in lieu of a greeting, grabbing your usual tote bag. “That new medication her doctor put her on is doing wonders. I might have to have him cut her off.”

“I think she’s a lot of fun,” Jisung snickered. “Earlier, when you were on that work call, she was telling Nayoung about your third-grade science fair—”

“Ahh!” You cut him off by planting two hands over his mouth, eyes going wide with mortification. “Of all the things she remembers, that’s what sticks around?! Are you kidding?”

His shoulders were shaking as he let out muffled laughter behind your hands, and he eventually collapsed backwards onto your bed. Your hands dropped from his face as you stayed upright, allowing his laughs to echo freely in your room.

“If you’re going to keep making fun of me, we’re not going out.” You crossed your arms. “I’ll bury your cabinet knobs in the backyard, and your soul will really be stuck here forever.”

“You’ve got to stop being so cute when you pout, and I’ll stop teasing you.” He was still chuckling as he sat up and reached for you with two hands. With an eyeroll, you let him pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around your waist.

“This isn’t fair, I can’t find out embarrassing stuff about you unless you tell me,” you huffed, well aware you that you were still pouting.

“I always answer your questions. You just don’t ask me that stuff.”

“Well now I will.”

“Anything else you need to pout about?”

You let out a deep breath, your face relaxing a little bit. “No. Done for now I think.”

He cupped your cheek, leaning in to press his mouth to yours. Like everything else, Jisung’s lips were cool as they meshed with yours. Not uncomfortably so, he wasn’t quite an icicle, just unlike any human you’d kissed before. You put your hand over his on your cheek, remembering when even that used to be a far-away impossibility.

You left him with one more kiss on the tip of his nose before asking, “Are you ready to go? Mom and Nayoung gave me the okay.”

He started playing with your fingers, eyes focused downwards as he spoke. “I actually wanted to ask if we could maybe go somewhere else today?”

“Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t want to be a bummer or anything but…”

“What is it?”

His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “You wrote down the cemetery, right? When you went to library and looked up the genealogies and stuff about me. You said you wrote down where my parents buried me?”

“Yeah, I still have it,” you confirmed, cradling the back of his head as you patiently waited for him to finish asking what you knew he wanted to ask you.

It took him a few inhales and exhales to ask, “Can we go?”

“Of course.”

This was officially the furthest you and Jisung had gone from the house together. He’d gone with you on errands a couple times before—the post office, library, things within walking distance—but you had to get on a train for this. You were a little nervous that he might not be able to go this far, even with the cabinet knob safely tied onto a leather cord and tucked under your shirt. So far, the only limit you’d discovered to his leaving the house was time—six hours or so seemed to be the magic number. You’d found that out on a particularly lazy day, when you were looking up at clouds together and suddenly his lap disappeared from beneath your head. He’d apparently popped back up in the foyer with the first headache he’d experienced in decades. Since then, you’d been more careful to keep an eye on the time when you brought him with you.

But he sat comfortably through the whole ten-minute train ride at your side as if he were any other passenger. The car that you were in wasn’t full, meaning that you had a row to yourself, leaving an empty seat next to you for Jisung. After arriving at your stop, you had another five-minute walk until you finally arrived at the cemetery.

“This is where my parents are from,” Jisung stated as you passed under the metal archway at the entrance. “That’s probably why they didn’t choose somewhere back in town.”

A winding path went through the center of the land, smaller pathways breaking off into other areas. It was a big cemetery, gently rolling hills dotted with headstones, grave markers, elegantly carved statues, all sorts of tributes to loved ones. The two of you took a meandering pace, eyes scanning all the names for just one. You looked around the property warily, now extra aware of being a public nuisance somewhere so sacred. You especially didn’t want to risk disturbing any mourners who might be here. But you couldn’t spot anybody except yourself and Jisung, maybe because it was the middle of the day in the middle of the work week.

“There,” Jisung announced, his gaze locked on something in the distance, while you had been looking at markers much closer. He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he rushed across the cemetery.

You stopped in front of a simply shaped granite headstone with a carved border. The name at the top read ‘PARK JISUNG’ and under it, a birthdate and death date that were familiar to you. It was the epitaph that was new to you, however.

‘THERE WILL ALWAYS BE LOVE

CROSS OUR HEARTS’

Jisung reached a finger out, tracing over each letter in ‘LOVE.’ He said, “I always wanted to know what they wrote. What they said about me. How they wanted to remember me forever.”

“It’s lovely. They love you a lot,” you replied quietly, resting a hand on his back.

He looked over at you hopefully. “You’re talking in present tense. Are they…?”

“The records I looked at didn’t list them as deceased when I was looking for information about you, but I don’t know how often it’s updated,” you informed him. “I didn’t look any further into them, I was only trying to find out what happened to you.”

“Do you think two more headstones could fit there?” He gestured to the empty space beside his own.

You took the seemingly random question in stride, genuinely contemplating it. “Probably, yeah. Or one big one would fit better, like the couples that get buried together.”

Jisung had a satisfied smile on his face as he nodded. “Yeah, one big one. That’s it.”

It dawned on you then what he was thinking—his parents had most likely reserved the plot next to his for themselves once they passed, and since it was still empty, they were still alive.

“Thank you.” He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. “For coming out here with me. This must be the weirdest date you’ve been on.”

“Visiting my boyfriend’s own grave with him?” You tilted your head back and forth contemplatively, a teasing lilt in your tone. “Mm, yeah, definitely up there. But I’m glad that you wanted to do this with me, Jisung. I can’t imagine what this feels like for you.”

“I’m ready to go,” he declared, looking up at the blue sky above you. “It’s such a nice day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agreed, fondly admiring his little one-eyed squint against the sunlight.

Back home that night, you shook one of your sleeping meds from the bottle, setting it down on your nightstand as you went about getting ready for bed. Your ghost was already sat against the headboard, his legs covered by your blankets, hands folded over the book in his lap as he waited for you. Finally ready, you knocked back the tablet with a gulp of water and climbed under your covers. Jisung rested one hand on your head, thumb stroking over your forehead, but after an abnormally long period of silence, you opened one eye to peer up at him.

He was just gazing down at you tenderly, and you fought the instinct to cover your face, instead reaching over to tap the cover of his closed book.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” You complained in jest.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” he responded, still not moving to open the book.

“What about?”

“My epitaph. ‘There will always be love.’”

“It’s nice.” You bit back a yawn.

“Yeah. I was thinking about how they probably meant it like their love for me will persist, and proof that I was here and was loved and loved others when I was alive will persist.”

“I like that, Jisung. I think that’s what they meant.”

“And… there was no way they could’ve known this when they picked it, but I was thinking…” Your ghost paused, dark eyes enrapturing you in that moment that you didn’t even think about breathing. “About how even after I died, you somehow found me.”

You grabbed the book from his lap, reaching behind you to blindly put it on your nightstand. Jisung immediately understood, turning his lamp off and leaving the room in darkness as he slipped the rest of the way under the covers. You buried your face in his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head as you simultaneously pressed yourself into him and pulled him as close as possible. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into you hard enough to make you feel real, which you were glad for.

“I’m going to bring you with me,” you choked out past the tears rising in your eyes. “When it’s time for me to leave. I’ll bring all the cabinet knobs, a chunk of the foundation, whatever will make it work. Fuck my stepbrothers—I’ll pay whatever damages. If you want—”

“Of course I do.” He didn’t even let you finish that thought, and you could hear the tremble in his voice. “But we’ve never been able to get around the time…”

“I’ll figure it out for us, Jisung.” You pulled back just enough to show him as you drew an X over the left side of your chest. “Cross my heart.”

He took your hand from your heart, kissing the back of your fingers tenderly. “We knew it was going to be like this. We promised.”

“We said ‘until it’s over,’” you argued. “I don’t want it to be over yet.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But I don’t think it’ll be our choice when it is. Not everything worthwhile has to last forever.”

“Jisung—”

“We’ll try everything,” he assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m not giving up on you, Y/N. You and me, until you hand the keys over and close the front door behind you.”

“You’ll be coming with me when I do that, Park Jisung,” you declared, your voice cracking over his name.

He wrapped both arms around you again, tucking you under his chin. “Of course.”

⤷ sequel | masterlist

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