#rogue one come home 😭

[jynjackets]

“k2-so is a cat and is stuck with jyn until his owner finds him” au

Im thinking animal shelter owned by baze and chirrut with jyn as the vet and bodhi her trainee. One day they find a lost cat who seems to have a hatred for either vets or just jyn. It turns out he belongs to private practice veterinarian cassian and this is how he learns about rogue shelters. He begins to spend more time there and each visit lends him more reasons to stay than just one. kay doesn’t find it so bad either.

They all become a family and nobody dies the end <3

[ilovettrpgs]

Rogue One makes me sick to my stomach actually

[cbeargyu]

marry me, mr. jeong

summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behind—no ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal: "marry me." and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.

pairing: boss!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: romance, slow burn, fluff, emotional smut, domestic married life, eventual pregnancy, emotional growth, healing.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.

wc: 19,7K

notes: i’m obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. man’s got range 😮‍💨💍🖤 i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time 😭 like girl be fr, when’s the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao 💀

you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.

you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.

jeong jaehyun.

your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.

you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.

you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.

tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.

“you’re still here, byun?”

you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”

you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”

he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”

a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.

“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”

you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.

“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”

you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”

another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”

he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”

and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.

you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.

the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.

your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.

you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.

you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.

you didn’t hear him come in.

you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.

“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”

he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.

you blinked.

right. the report.

you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.

you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.

“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”

you nodded. “understood.”

“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”

“yes, mr. jeong.”

and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.

you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.

the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.

as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”

then jaehyun spoke.

his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.

until he said your name.

“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”

you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.

you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.

“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”

you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.

when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.

like you’d done well. like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.

the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.

when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.

“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.

“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”

he nodded. “you earned it.”

later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.

the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.

the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”

the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”

“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.

he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”

jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.

“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”

he raised his glass. “to y/n.”

“to y/n,” echoed around the table.

you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.

you were finally going somewhere.

the dinner had blurred into noise.

conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.

when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.

“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.

he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”

you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.

“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.

jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”

you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.

“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”

you took a breath, not daring to look at him.

“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”

jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.

“i can celebrate with you.”

you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”

he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.

“then marry me.”

your brain stalled.

you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.

“…what?” you whispered.

“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”

the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.

you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”

“we know enough,” he said without blinking.

“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”

“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.

you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”

“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”

you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.

he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”

“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”

jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”

he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.

“i’ll take you home,” he said.

you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”

he looked down at you, expression unreadable.

“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”

and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.

you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.

you didn’t sleep.

not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.

then marry me.

you have seven months to decide.

like some sort of countdown had been triggered.

you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.

your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.

you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.

you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.

then—

“good morning.”

his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.

you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.

“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”

he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.

a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.

you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.

you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.

he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.

“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.

“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.

you lingered.

“mr. jeong.”

he finally looked up.

his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.

you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”

his expression didn’t change.

“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”

you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”

“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”

you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?

he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.

you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.

you’d never felt so out of control.

you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.

you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.

you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

your mind wouldn’t shut up.

you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.

why would he say that? why now? why you?

he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.

so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.

but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?

he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?

a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.

why you?

you didn’t have an answer.

you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.

but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.

leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.

he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.

“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”

not a question. not a request.

he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.

you hesitated, only for a second.

but then you followed.

because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:

you wanted to know.

you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.

he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.

you stared straight ahead.

ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.

the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.

you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.

you didn’t look at him. “not really.”

“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”

you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”

“anytime,” he said dryly.

and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.

the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.

“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”

you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”

“love it.”

you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”

he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”

“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”

you said nothing.

because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.

how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?

he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.

you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.

once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.

“why me?”

his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”

“do you say that to all women?”

he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”

you shook your head. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”

“i never said you did.”

you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”

his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.

“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”

you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.

“just like that?”

“just like that.”

you couldn’t look away.

and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.

“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.

you saw him as a man.

a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.

his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.

you saw him differently.

you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.

but something inside you had shifted.

you just didn’t know what to call it.

he didn’t rush you.

he didn’t push.

he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.

and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.

“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”

just like that.

your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”

he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”

you blinked. “that’s okay?”

“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”

but you were thinking. too much.

his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?

your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.

you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.

and you remembered.

all those nights crying in silence.

all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.

ever finding someone.

ever being enough.

ever being loved without begging for it.

maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.

maybe he was better.

you looked up at him.

“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”

he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.

your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”

for a beat, the world went still.

he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.

he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn��t want to scare it off.

“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”

you swallowed hard.

and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.

you weren’t sure if this was love.

but it was a beginning.

the next morning. everything is different.

you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.

a woman who knew what she wanted.

a woman who said yes.

you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.

you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.

you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.

and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.

jung jaehyun.

same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.

but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.

you stood up—too fast.

too happy.

“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.

it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.

the entire floor stopped.

heads turned.

some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.

jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.

“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.

you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.

the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.

you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.

after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.

he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.

“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.

you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.

once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.

“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.

“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.

“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”

you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”

“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”

you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”

“i’m not asking you to apologize.”

“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”

he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.

“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”

you grinned. “i’m worse.”

he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.

“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”

you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.

the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.

the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.

you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.

not knowing was part of the charm.

“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.

he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.

“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.

there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.

and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.

a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.

it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.

you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.

“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”

jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.

“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.

he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.

a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.

he did.

“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.

“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”

no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.

the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.

every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.

“are you bored?” you whispered.

“not even close.”

“you haven’t laughed once.”

he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”

you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.

“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.

you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.

as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.

he still didn’t touch you.

he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.

but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.

“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”

“you don’t have to thank me.”

“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”

he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.

“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”

you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.

“you’re doing well so far.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.

but inside… you felt it.

your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.

you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.

but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…

you wanted to find out.

you wanted to try.

the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.

jaehyun noticed immediately.

you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.

you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.

by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.

"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.

"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”

you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.

the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.

he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.

“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”

you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”

“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”

you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.

at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number: meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late. signed J.J.

you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.

the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.

after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.

“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.

you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”

he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”

you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.

“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”

he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.

“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”

you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”

he nodded. “siblings?”

“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”

jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”

you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”

jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”

“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”

you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.

before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”

he shook his head. “only child.”

“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.

he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”

you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”

jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”

he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”

you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.

you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”

he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.

the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.

and then he stood and offered you his hand.

you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.

he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”

you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”

he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.

he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.

your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.

and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.

they lingered.

because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.

there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.

just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.

you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.

still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.

the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.

today was one of those days.

you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.

“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”

you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”

“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”

you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”

he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”

you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.

“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”

jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”

the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.

you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”

“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.

jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.

the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.

his skin was warm under your lips.

he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.

“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.

“doing what?” you asked innocently.

he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”

you grinned and didn’t answer.

he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.

“i like this,” you said softly.

“what part?” he asked.

“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”

he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“me too.”

you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.

and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.

and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.

june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.

one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.

he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.

you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.

you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.

but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.

at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.

the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.

jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.

“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”

your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.

“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”

your face flushed.

you looked away, but only for a second.

because when you met his eyes again, he stood.

in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.

he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”

you nodded, breathless. “okay.”

and then he kissed you again.

the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.

that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.

this time, he didn’t say hello.

he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.

he never rushed.

never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.

but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.

and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”

his smile was crooked. dangerous.

“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”

thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.

you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.

“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”

jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”

you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”

the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.

“wait—what?”

and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.

“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”

his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.

“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.

“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”

you froze.

he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.

married.

you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.

married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.

you shook the image out of your head.

“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.

“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”

friday night came like a slow exhale.

he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.

you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.

“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.

“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.

when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.

saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.

you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.

you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.

“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.

“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”

“you were so cute.”

you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”

he stared. “a week?”

“he said i was too uptight and boring.”

jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”

you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”

he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.

“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.

“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”

tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.

“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.

“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”

the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.

grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.

you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.

it wasn’t glamorous.

but it felt like home.

and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—

you were falling in love.

for real.

for the first time.

towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.

you answer.

“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”

you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.

“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”

you rub your temple. “mom—”

“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”

you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.

“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”

a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”

“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”

“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”

before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.

the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.

you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.

“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”

your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.

“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”

he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”

you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”

“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”

your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.

friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.

jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.

“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.

the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.

when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.

and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.

“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”

inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.

he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.

“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”

your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.

“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.

you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.

then comes the chaos.

your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.

“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”

you groan. “shut up, baek.”

the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.

jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.

he freezes.

and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.

he blushes.

and you notice.

“what?” you whisper as you lean close.

he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”

the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.

he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.

he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”

and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.

this might just be the beginning of everything.

the months of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.

jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.

one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.

jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.

the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.

jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”

you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”

jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”

you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.

both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.

“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”

you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.

jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.

you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”

his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.

his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.

what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.

when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.

when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.

you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.

you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you. 

his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”

you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.

your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.

he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”

when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.

your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.

after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.

your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”

you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”

and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.

you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”

your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”

he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”

you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.

when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.

he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”

your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.

you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”

your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.

this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.

“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”

he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”

that night at the motel changed everything.

it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.

after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.

but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.

it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.

by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.

you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.

and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.

“i love you.”

your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.

you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.

it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.

but not wrong.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.

“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”

and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.

it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.

what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.

and the craziest part?

you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.

august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.

and then—the email.

subject line: promotion confirmation.

you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.

jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.

he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face. and then you said it.

“i got it.”

“you got what?” he blinked, confused.

“the promotion.”

his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.

“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”

you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.

he took you out that night.

you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.

“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”

your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.

“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”

jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.

“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”

you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.

you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.

you didn’t need fireworks.

this was better.

this was yours.

mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.

you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.

so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.

“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.

you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.

“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.

“yeah?”

you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.

“i want to marry you.”

his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.

“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”

“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”

he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.

“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”

“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”

he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”

you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”

his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”

and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.

the proposal happened three days later.

he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.

he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.

he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.

and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.

“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”

he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.

your eyes began to water.

he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.

a velvet box.

he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.

“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”

he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.

“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”

you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.

in that moment, september never felt sweeter.

telling the company was a whole thing.

it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.

you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.

the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.

"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."

you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.

jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”

the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.

jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.

“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”

your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—

cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.

“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”

you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”

the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”

the parents came next.

you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.

"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"

you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.

“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”

“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.

then it was his parents' turn.

you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.

“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”

they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.

it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.

they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.

from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.

the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused. her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.

“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”

and then came the parents.

jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”

her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day. but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.

they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.

and then, jaehyun.

when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.

he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.

she mouthed “you’re mine.”

the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.

“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”

“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”

they kissed.

and the world felt new again.

their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.

“we did it,” she whispered.

“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”

the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.

their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.

they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars. they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava. they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.

“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.

“then it’s the life we’ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”

and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.

it sounded like a promise.

three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.

you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.

mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.

but then, one evening, the quiet changed.

you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.

when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.

two pink lines.

you stared. blinked. stared again.

your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.

you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.

jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”

you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.

“we’re gonna be parents!!”

the silence cracked. and then—

jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.

you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”

“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.

months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.

you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.

your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”

the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.

jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.

“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”

you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.

he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”

the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.

and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.

you. him. her.

and the love that built it all.

finally. completely.

beautifully yours.

[luvt0kki]

𝟎𝟎𝟏 | 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞

She don't give a fuck about nobody

And she got her whole crew poppin'

And she bend it over like she got no back bone

🎧 six feet under - the weekend

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

001 | next

pairings : ot8 x reader, (with a focus on Mingi and Wooyoung this chapter)

wc: 7.2k ( not fully proofread yet so sorry for any mistakes 🥺)

cw: mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, clubbing, alcohol, futuristic stuff that I had to google cause it’s been years since I watched Star Wars or scifi movies, nud1ty, hints of violence, hints of crime, slow burn, eventual smut, lots of teasing, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and y/n, fembodied reader, mentions of segss work ( mostly just stripping), hints of violence

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: this is long I know 😭 but YES, look forward to part 2! Also I would really appreciate and enjoy like your thoughts in the replies or in my ask box hehe we can fangirl together for what’s to come

The former noble turned galactic nomad sighed as he stared out at the endless darkness littered with twinkling stars that maybe was a part of another system. It wasn’t that he found his life on the spaceship boring, in fact, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

When his childhood best friend and also former crowned prince of their home planet, Jupiter, showed up after a year of escaping and denying the future laid out for him by the King, he had to know what he was up to. He had to talk to him and hear all about the life outside their planet and without the protection of their standing, the dangers, the perils, the thrill of the unknown and more.

Wooyoung then had not believed that his best friend, glowing with the freedom he had given himself, was right there in the bustling city’s downtown market. He had thought he had hallucinated and mistook the cloaked figure to be someone else but when his feet carried him to follow him, he was able to confirm that it was indeed his best friend.

Their reunion gave Wooyoung a chance at the same freedom Yeosang had sought after and a chance at meeting the band of brothers that he found that shared the same ideals. On his own volition without even consulting the Captain of the crew that Yeosang had become a part of, he decided that he was going with his best friend. Plus, what better way to create a reputation for himself as former noble turned space pirate? He liked how that sounded.

Which leads us now to the present…

Now he was part of one of the most revered and hunted group of pirates of the galaxy. Not what he had in mind really but he liked the life. The thrill, the danger and the excitement of it all. The not being told to act a certain way nor have his whole life planned to every second.

Was he buddy buddy with a bunch of rogue, violent and defiant pirates? Yup. He was one now too and the crew were like his brothers.

Sure he’s only known them for six months but there’s only so much you could do in a ship when you travel from one planet to the next, never ever really having a permanent dock. The ship was their home, his home…and the members of this crew were friends that he felt he was fated to meet.

But he hasn’t met one person of the crew…and he didn’t know that.

“Woo. Wake up. ” A firm hand shook him by the shoulder “We just docked at Xileon.” The calm and pleasing voice of their youngest slowly being heard in his ears as he gained consciousness.

“X-Xileon?” Wooyoung muttered, brows furrowing as his eyes blinked and squinted, adjusting to the soft light coming from his open door.

“Yeah, little fun rest stop. Well fun for me,” Jongho chuckled, excited to see all the cool technology and city life Xileon offered. He’s only ever been once when he had been an apprentice. Xileon was every science, engineering and tech geeks favorite planet, other than that the bustling fun night life it offered attracted all kinds of travelers across the galaxy. “C’mon, Captain says we’re free to do what we want while he contacts one of his informants.”

“What if I want to sleep, Jongho?” Wooyoung whined, sitting up despite his words.

“I know you’re always up for a party.”

“Now where did you hear that from?”

“Yeosang.” He shrugged, getting up from the edge of Wooyoung’s bed. “Come on, everyone’s going .” He clapped the raven haired man on the back, the impact making a little ‘oof’ escape Wooyoung.

“Yeah…yeah,” Wooyoung made a face, rubbing the back of his neck as he woke up. “I’ll be there…just wait a bit. Let me freshen up.”

“Don’t make us wait too long,” Jongho’s lips pursed in a childlike way, making Wooyoung chuckle a bit. As strong and intimidating as Jongho was, he was still their youngest and had an inner child that came out now and then.

“I won’t…I don’t want an earful from you anyways,” he snickered, playfully jabbing at him.

Jongho glared at him before leaving.

Xileon was a colorful fluorescent modern, futuristic jungle of a planet. The most high tech flying vehicles and motorcycle cruisers sped by the roads and streets, the avant-garde and neo-futuristic skyscrapers and buildings glimmered during the lively evenings of *Night City*. Clubs and the grandest of parties happened every night. The pounding music, the flashing lights and glittering champagne, and the vast choices of alcoholic concoctions called many for a good time but underneath all of that, it provided many individuals a guise to have dealings of a far more less than lawful nature.

If you’re lucky, Night City’s police would turn a blind eye. Just make sure you don’t get caught or were one of the most hunted wanted individuals of the galaxy.

Luckily for ATEEZ, they were never really caught…except for that one really disappointing and poor depiction of Mingi’s profile that was being plastered in every back alley or lamp post. It was a good thing it looked nothing like him and that that day, Mingi had been wearing an oversized leather cowboy hat that casted a shadow over his eyes so the wanted poster was practically useless. All Mingi had to do was not wear that hat ever again…he grumbled about it for a bit but he had let it go eventually.

The eight men stood in line for one of the top venues to experience the night life the city offered.

While their Captain and First Mate were here to do conduct business, the rest decided to enjoy the establishment as well as make sure they were there should anything go south. But as they entered, guided by a bouncer with a metallic high tech prosthetic arm, Hongjoong dressed in an exquisite Aegean velvet suit tailored to his frame like a glove, turned to them once more to remind them that this whole affair was likely not to be any trouble.

“Don’t worry too much and try to enjoy yourselves,” he ran his fingers through his dyed azure hair before adjusting the lapels of his blazer, some tipsy club goers passing by to leave eyed their captain’s slightly exposed skin. The rest of them garnered looks as well the more they walked into the place, the music pounding and colored lights flashing. “If anything,” he tapped by his ear, earrings glimmering as they’re caught in the lights, the little communication device Jongho fashioned for them hidden behind his and their earlobes. “I’ll call you.”

“But, really, please do enjoy yourselves.” Seonghwa smiled, raven dark hair sweeping perfectly to frame his handsome face. “We rarely get days like these. Have fun.”

The newest addition to their crew grinned like a cat who got the cream, eyes looking over the dance floor with a glint of mischief and the full intent to indulge himself in pleasures he was used to having. “Don’t worry, Seonghwa. I plan to do just that.” He winked at the women who looked his way.

“Oh, he’s in his element.” Yeosang chuckled, throwing an arm over his best friend. “Don’t get into that kind of trouble, Woo.”

“It’s trouble they want anyways.”

“Were you always this cocky?” Mingi’s nose scrunched up at his friend’s obnoxiously flirty behavior.

“Don’t act like you’re not a flirt when you want to be.” Yunho teased the crew’s gunner, poking his side.

“I know I said to have fun,” Hongjoong spoke as they made their way through the spread wide and lively establishment, passing several tables, booths and private rooms. “But do behave.”

That was their last exchange with the group before Seonghwa and him continued down towards the part of the club with another set of bouncers that led to the private and premium rooms. Straight to business while the rest stood by the railings that overlooked the dance floor and bar below, eyeing what entertainment tonight had to offer each of them.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Jongho turned to San, their agent, who stayed close to them, rather protectively, almost like a bodyguard. His posture was straight yet elegant with an air of quiet and unquestionable confidence, almost making one think that he may have come from royalty.

“Places like these…” San’s cat like eyes scanned the room, processing possible exits and blind spots. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Maybe some alcohol in your system will help loosen you up.” Wooyoung came to his side, eyes on the dance floor eying for a partner for one night, the ocean of people reminding him of the days he’d sneak out his father’s manor to party with the other elites.

“He doesn’t hold his liquor well,” Jongho stated, crossing his arms over his chest, a group of what seemed to be innovators, inventors and scientists out to have a good time catching his eye as one of them boasted their interactive hologram that displayed a model of an advanced hover cycle. “I’ll be doing some mingling.” He clapped Yeosang on his back as he made his way to the group cooly while simultaneously getting a shot from a hostess passing by.

“Seems like he’s done this before. Not so baby as I thought he was,” Wooyoung hummed with narrow eyes, watching Jongho easily join the groups conversation and a random woman sizing him up flirtatiously.

“We should get a table,” Yeosang suggested.

“A booth.” San inputted. “Specifically in that corner.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the far right corner of the dance floor below. “I can keep an eye on things there better.”

“To give Sannie some peace of mind, we should follow his request.” Yunho placed his hands on their agents broad and stiff shoulders.

“I’ll get us drinks.” Mingi decided, heading down the aesthetically pleasing steps to the bar. His tall, muscular figure was clad in a fitting white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows topped with a vest that cinched at his waist, boasting his defined v-tapered back. Little did the people who gave him double takes knew, beneath the leg of his trousers, strapped to his ankle was a knife and at the back of the waistband was a gun.

With Yeosang’s charm, the boys were able to secure the corner table booth that was a bit further away from the dance floor, it was private and one that definitely were for VIPs. What they liked was that it was close enough to where the party was but far enough that they can speak to one another while the music drummed at a less overwhelming volume. San sat took his spot on the dark violet cushioned seat that gave him a view of all the exits and entrances and for now, since it was just the start of a long fun night, they decided to have a couple of drinks and some food while enjoying each others company and the music.

“You need to relax,” Wooyoung tutted at San, unbuttoning another button of his shirt to expose more of his honey skinned chest. “When was the last time you fucked, huh?” He asked the former assassin.

“W-what?” San stuttered, eyes growing wide and ears tinting pink at the sudden question. For such an intimidatingly handsome man, he sure flustered easily.

Yunho looked over at San with concern, the last time San had been with anyone…was before Wooyoung had joined the crew…before—

“You never really told me your type?” Wooyoung wiggled his groomed brows, relaxing in his seat as he watched people dance, bodies pressing against one another, some fitting perfectly and rolling in tandem with whomever they danced with.

Yeosang quietly observed his friends, savoring each sip of his drink and mindful of their interactions.

“I-I don’t have a type.” San murmured, reaching for a glass from the tray Mingi returned with, who settled next Yunho on the other end of the couch.

“San’s not really the sleeping around kind of person,” Mingi’s deep voice almost melded with the low hum of the bass music.

“And you are?” Wooyoung scoffed at their gunner, his newly dyed pink hair catching the eyes of those that passed by them.

“Pleasure is pleasure,” Mingi shrugged his broad shoulders, ringed fingers cradling his whiskey sour. “But,” he reached for one of the thinner silver chains around his neck. He pulled out a specific one with a pendant. “I’m a loyal man.”

San stared at the pendant, a wave of melancholy washing over him as he recalled memories of who that butterfly pendant belonged to and who it signified.

“You’ve got someone?” Wooyoung’s interest was piqued immediately, forgetting the women he had been eying across the dance floor and now staring at the pendant that Mingi displayed proudly and pressed to his lips.

His smirk was answer enough for Wooyoung.

“It must be hard for them.”

Yeosang tilted his head. “Why’d you think that?”

“Because we’re rebels, bandits/pirates? Shall I go on and list the colorful achievements of our crew? Plus,” he turned his gaze to the dance floor, locking with a pair of eyes so magnetic that even behind the intricate lace masque she wore, just a small moment had him looking for them when he lost it. “Isn’t it cruel to make her wait?”

Mingi’s reaction caught Wooyoung off guard. He scoffed with a slight amused smirk on his face, as if what Wooyoung had said was funny.

“She’s not doing all the waiting.” San spoke without thinking before Mingi could reply, his eyes transfixed on the pendant until it disappeared back beneath Mingi’s shirt. His eyes returned to observe the happenings around him.

Wooyoung wondered what San meant but he didn’t have enough time to think much of it when another round of drinks arrived.

As the night progressed, the drinks emptied were quickly refilled and Wooyoung danced, mingled and flirted like he did back in his old life. Seonghwa and Hongjoong after having met with their informants had joined them at their table, while Wooyoung and even Yeosang danced, the rest deciding to play a game of pool.

Wooyoung was not blind to the wandering eyes that were on him and his very attractive crew members. Many flirted with them but it was never more than that. His friends entertained their advances but were quick to turn them down when they asked or suggested for more.

But he didn’t worry much about it, not when he was searching for that pair of eyes he locked with earlier. Where was she? He would catch glimpses of her now and again but she was always a distance away from him, and every time he tried to head to her direction and he lost her in his peripheral, she was gone.

Was he hallucinating ? He wasn’t even that drunk.

Soft fingers brushed the nape of neck, nails scraping delightfully on his skin. He knew what that meant. Grinning and letting himself go, he turned to entertain another flirty party goer, only to meet the masked beauty he was searching for all night.

Sporting what clearly was a shoulder length pink bob wig with bangs, her eyes were hidden behind a white lace masque and she wore the most alluring Mona Lisa smile that haunted his mind since he had seen her.

Wooyoung with his experiences back in his and Yeosang’s home planet, girls like her, like you, who came to happenings like this dressed almost incognito, meant that you were here for a very good time that not even your identity can be disclosed.

He smirked and placed his hands on your waist, pleasantly surprised to feel warm skin against his palms. With how packed the dance floor was, he couldn’t really get a good look of your outfit but from what he could see, you wore a bejeweled bralette with straps that were lined with tiny crystals and brushing over his knuckles as you both swayed were long beaded shimmering strings hanging by the band.

So who were you? Some elite socialite whose reputation was too good to ruin in a scene like this? A noble like he was looking for a good time? A princess of some other planet?

“Hey,” your sultry voice, like honey to his ears. “My eyes are up here.”

Your arms hung over his shoulders, giving the handsome stranger a quick look down as if you hadn’t been observing him all night.

The buttons of his black silk dress shirt revealed his toned chest, honey skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat beneath the party lights and his pretty neck was wrapped in a matching silk black choker with the extra fabric dangling in a classy fashion.

“And mine are up here too,” he teased back and pulled you against him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh?” Glossy pink lips stretched into a smirk and shimmering eyes locked with his. “And why would you be doing that?”

“Because I’ve decided,” he turned you around, his hands on your hips keeping you in place against his own as the two of you danced to the music. His lips were hot against your ear while your hand rested on the back of his neck, rolling your hips sensually. Wooyoung smirked against your ear.

You wanted him just as much as he did.

“That you’re mine for the evening.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head slightly to give him access to your neck, your eyes falling to his group of friends by the pool table.

“Not everyone gets that privilege, baby.” He husked, brushing his soft and hot lips along the column of your neck, breathing in your addicting scent.

Wooyoung wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol and the heat of the dancing crowd that was getting him so easily riled up but something about your aura was so magnetic and intoxicating. Was it because he hasn’t slept with anyone since he left Jupiter?

“Well aren’t you arrogant.” You raked your nails through his hair, shivers going down his spine and sending pulsing heat to his crotch. “Was that supposed to flatter me?”

His eyes shut at the delicious sensation of your touch. He wanted to get you alone, heck, he would have you on the dance floor if he could. He almost forgot how good it was to fuck after months of traveling the galaxy. He wanted to fuck. He wanted you.

“Don’t lie to yourself and say you’re not.” He brushed his lips on your earlobe, his hot breath against your ear and the way his hands roamed your body felt good.

God, how did his friends put up with his cocky flirty attitude?

“Is that what you want me to do?” You rolled your hips against his, completely aware of the growing hardness pressed against your ass as he ground his hips to the music. “Lie?”

“Trust me sweetheart, there’s many things I want you to do.”

“And what are those things?” You purred whilst tugging at his hair, your voice and your gesture spurring his desire further.

He gripped your hips tighter and lowered his lips to your neck, to the spot just below your ear. He pulled you closer to his body to feel the heat of your form on his own before letting his hands roam freely again, feeling the exposed skin beneath the beaded strings that teased every spectators eyes.

“I want you,” he growled against your skin, pressing his lips just a little bit. “Legs spread apart with my head between your thighs.”

The warmth of his hot lips and the lust in his words undeniably sent heat to your core, and the image he painted with his words was so tempting. Plus, the fact that that was his response set him apart from other men. Usually the response you’d get were more about their pleasure never yours.

You hummed at the thought before turning around to face him and meet his eyes. He wore that flirtatious grin and his eyes were blown with lust. They had a look in them that you found so sexy, you couldn’t help but play a little.

“You’re very bold.”

“I’m honest.”

“And what’s an honest man such as yourself doing here?” You caressed his cheekbone with a gentleness that made Wooyoung’s heart skip a beat.

“What do you know about honest men?”

“Well for one, they don’t spend their time in a place like this.” You swayed to the beat closer to him. “Secondly, an honest man always ends up with an honest woman. I’m far from honest.”

“Then maybe we’re just two dishonest people.”

He watched your pretty lips stretch into an endearing grin, their glossiness and plumpness pulling him closer to you.

“Maybe we are.” Your sweet breath fanned over his lips, your foreheads touching, so dangerously close.

“I wonder what you taste like.” His thumbs caressed the skin of your waist.

You grazed your lips over his just a little and Wooyoung could get a little taste of cherry from the gloss you wore while you slid a hand between the two of you. Your fingertip brushed along the exposed skin of his chest then the silk of his button up shirt before they lingered at the waistband of his trousers. Before he could even think about pressing his lips on yours, you turned your cheek and leaned in his ear. Your right hand skimmed over the hardness of his crotch, making a cute little gasp escape the strikingly handsome man.

His cock twitched beneath your teasing touch.

“Like heaven,” you purred.

His forehead fell on your shoulder as he bit his lip, holding back a moan as you palmed him through his pants.

“But…” your touch left his hardened member, the loss of friction making him groan. “Not everyone gets that privilege.” You echoed his words back to him.

Before he could react, his head dizzy and spinning from both the alcohol and your hot touch, you slithered your way through the crowd.

His eyes watched the pink of your hair amongst the dancing and close proximity of people. You headed to the back, to the dark red velvet decorated motif which was below the second floor where the premium private rooms were. You nodded at the two bouncers who guarded the velvet draped entrance, who smiled back at you.

Did you work here?

Before you disappeared behind the curtains to what he assumed was the private entertainment rooms, you casted him one last glance. It was like you were telling him to follow.

Wooyoung wasn’t the type to be whipped by just anyone. He knew what was worth his time or not but with you, he wasn’t even thinking. His feet moved on their own to follow you like he was under some spell.

“Hey, I found you.”

Jongho entered his peripheral.

“Huh?”

“Captain said his informant got us a private room as a treat.” Jongho’s hand on his shoulder started to guide him through the crowd, towards the dark glowing red area.

“For what?”

“For taking care of the man who was his competition. Even though that wasn’t our intention.”

Wooyoung frowned, adjusting his pants to hide his erection. Not really how he wanted to spend the rest of his night but if Captain calls, you do not make him call twice.

“Ugh,” he ran his hands through his hair, missing and imagining your touch. “Fine.”

If he was lucky, he was going to find you…

“This is…odd.” San spoke, sat on the curved plush couch between Yeosang and Mingi of the rather compact red room with just enough space for ten people.

“Why is that?” Jongho asked, pouring himself another drink, the golden liquid in his glass like honey.

Hongjoong made himself comfortable at his spot on the left curve of the couch, legs crossed classily as his eyes stared at the empty little platform in the center of the room, the silver pole glowing cause of the mood lights..

“Isn’t entertainment like this supposed to be for one set of eyes?” San wondered out loud.

It’s not that he hasn’t ever experienced this before. He has. It’s just more private when it’s him and the performer. He never thought of doing an activity with his friends…though they have indulged in some acts on the ship when a certain someone was around.

“Yeosang and I used to do this all the time,” Wooyoung shrugged nonchalantly, making his best friend’s eyes widen at how he threw that info out so easily. “Oh c’mon, they don’t care about your Perfect Prince Yeosang reputation.”

Mingi chuckled at their interaction and Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you a loyal man? Now I feel even sadder for your girlfriend.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Mingi pushed his black shades up higher to shield his eyes. “I am a loyal man cause no matter what, no one can compare to her. I wouldn’t be in this room if Captain’s informant wasn’t a dickhead who will take offense if not all of us accepts his ‘treat’.”

“Also, this club has a policy of not touching the dancers unless they consent,” Seonghwa added. “We just enjoy the show the lovely lady assigned to us will put on, tip her extra and that’s it.”

“And we can’t just leave why?” San sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because the informants goons will report back to him if we turn down his gift,” Yunho explained, knowing the character of that rich man all too well. “Hongjoong still needs to be on his good side til he gets information of the location of the Cromer.”

A soft knock on the door silenced them and all that could be heard now was the vibrating hum of the music that played in the room.

“Boys,” Hongjoong spoke lowly, casting them a glance. “Play nice.”

Jongho raised his glass at that, leaning back into the other end of the curved seat.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

Wooyoung stopped breathing. No fucking way.

Too lost in his own surprise of coincidence, he wasn’t able to catch the way his crew mates interest were suddenly piqued.

With you only being the one standing, Wooyoung was able to see you in your full glory. The purple lilac bralette bedazzled with sequins cupped your breasts so perfectly and the crystal beaded strings caught the fluorescent light in a way that made you shimmer and appear like a goddess. Behind the curtain of beads, all of them could see your naked skin but compared to when Wooyoung had danced with you earlier, the silk mini skirt you wore was gone.

Feeling all their eyes on you, you smiled coyly at their Captain, stepping your foot onto the circle platform in the middle of the room, showing off the skin of your legs that were elongated by your silver heels.

“Shall I get started then?” You asked, running a finger from your ankle to the purple garter on your thigh, aware of how their eyes followed the trail of your chrome lilac painted nails.

“It’s you.” Wooyoung breathed out, eyes tracing the waistband of the sorry excuse of an underwear that matched your bralette. It was tiny and flimsy, and almost left nothing to the imagination, except for what your pussy would look like. Wooyoung wanted to know.

Yunho glanced at his friend. How did he know you?

“Oh? Well if it isn’t, Mr. Arrogant.” You gracefully stepped your whole body onto the platform, circling around the pole while playing with the little crystal studded purse you brought with you.

Your words made Jongho chuckle.

“You work here?” It was a dumb question, Wooyoung knew that.

“What does it look like?” You shrugged your shoulders cutely before throwing your tiny purse to the curved platform behind them where you could play around some more if you wanted to.

“How long have you been working here?” Hongjoong asked, taking your attention from Wooyoung.

Smiling his way, you slowly sunk to your knees and ran your hand on your left thigh where your purple lace garter was.

The man before you smirked knowing what you were silently telling him.

Hongjoong dug into the inner pocket of his blazer and in between his fingers was a 50 Zaire bill. He leaned forward and without touching your skin, slipped the bill beneath the garter.

“Three months.” You answered him, sensually getting up to lean against the pole with your arms over your head, elongating your body for their viewing pleasure.

“I like your wig.” Jongho commented, eying you with a knowing gaze.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung watched as you moved seductively on the pole, unaware of how San became completely relaxed and excited at the same time.

“Does all of this turn you on?” Wooyoung asked, eyes raking your body and feeling his throat dry at how drawn he was to you.

“Sometimes.” You purred nonchalantly, bending over a little to show the arch of your pretty back before expertly twirling around the pole.

“Earlier…were you lying to me?” He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs as he tried to meet your gaze.

“No.” You replied, locking eyes with the man in the middle whose hair matched your wig.

He lowered his shades close to the end of his nose, his eyes locking with yours and sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re a good dancer. I had fun.” You admitted still looking at the tall man before you even though you were addressing Wooyoung.

“Are you having fun now?” San asked, surprising Wooyoung that he was interacting with you, his cat like eyes set on you and no one else.

“Because I’m here with eight handsome men rather than the sleazy ones? Yes I’m having fun.” You stepped your heel onto the plush couch, the men making space for you as you stood between Mingi and Wooyoung, your gaze down at Mingi who looked at you with stars in his eyes while the one behind you, going crazy with desire let his eyes wander.

Placing your hand delicately on Mingi’s shoulder, you slowly bent over, giving Wooyoung and Jongho the view of the back of your legs, your ass and your clothed cunt.

“I thought there’s a no touching rule.” Yeosang spoke, feeling himself grow hot, knowing the body his seeing all too well.

“I can touch any of you while I do my business since that’s what I was paid for but none of you can touch me unless I say so. So keep your hands to yourselves unless you’re putting a bill under the garter.”

You traced your finger along the side of your thigh, knowing full well that Wooyoung was watching your every move more intently than the others.

“Are you flirting with us?” Wooyoung licked his lips, mind racing with thoughts of kissing and feeling your skin.

“Maybe.” You winked at Mingi, making him smirk.

“Are you allowed to flirt with us?” Yunho asked this time and you moved to perch yourself on the platform/back rest of the couch.

“Yes I can flirt with you,” you nodded, placing your hands on your closed knees.

Wooyoung driven by desire, took out a 100 Zaire bill from his wallet and waved it your way.

“Open your legs.”

You obliged him, opening them an inch apart, entertained by how impatient he was with your teasing behavior.

“Wider.”

A little bit more.

“Make this worth all our time, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his demanding yet bratty tone, you surprised them all by spreading your legs wide, unfolding them into a flexible split on the surface you were on.

“Fuck,” San swore under his breath.

Wooyoung revealed to you another 100 bill. “Show me.”

Looking him dead in the eyes, you pulled your purple panties to the side, revealing your bare mound to their eyes. Some of them swore, some of them let out a groan and some of them just continued to look while they bite their lip. All of their reactions made you suppress an amused giggle, you kind of feel bad for them but you kept a straight face, not wanting to give Wooyoung the satisfaction of winning in the cat and mouse game you were playing.

“Oh baby,” Jongho cooed lowly, the familiarity of the pet name causing a chink in your armor.

“By the way, we can’t fuck.” You threw the rule out there, enjoying the way the handsome man you danced with was breaking at the seams.

“Why not?” Wooyoung scoffed, eyes on the pretty pink folds of your pussy.

“I’m a stripper not a whore.” You adjusted the panties back to cover you and you closed your legs, deciding to crawl to the side where Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Yeosang was.

“Like I told you earlier,” you could feel Wooyoung’s eyes on your ass. “Not everyone gets that privilege.”

Mingi swiped the bills from Wooyoung’s hand and handed it over to Yeosang, who nicely slips it beneath the garter. You thanked him.

“Now, Captain,” you turned to Hongjoong, who was looking at you with his signature smirk and his pretty brown eyes shimmering with amusement. “Tell me, where on earth did you find this arrogant, cocky and bratty thing?”

Wooyoung frowned at the sudden shift in your tone. The way you spoke with Hongjoong was as if you two were familiar with one another.

“Blame, Yeosang.” Hongjoong sipped his whiskey.

“He’s not as bad as you think, love.” Yeosang sweetly spoke to you, his hand moving to tuck a strand of your wig behind your ear to get a better look at you.

“He’s just a little dramatic,” Mingi inputted, tapping at his thigh and like a pet called to their master, you moved yourself to Mingi’s lap, straddling his hips.

“More dramatic than you?” You pouted cutely, running your hands through his pink hair. “So…how long did it take you all to know it was me?”

“Not long. We know your voice anywhere.” Seonghwa answered, quietly admiring you with just a small smile on his face. “But it is a big surprise to find you here out of all places.”

“Hi baby,” you couldn’t hold back your smile anymore as you cupped Mingi’s face with your hands. “Did you miss me?”

“More than you could possibly fathom.” Mingi replied, leaning in to kiss you but you leaned back.

“You can’t kiss me. Well…not here. They’re watching.” You tilted your head to where Jongho sat. “They can see us but they can’t hear us.”

“There’s CCTV on the right corner of the ceiling.” San told the group.

“W-wait. Wait a god damn fucking minute.” Wooyoung exclaimed, looking at you, settled on Mingi’s lap like you belonged there. Were you Mingi’s girl? What were you doing in a place like this? “You all know her?”

You pursed your glossed lips and turned to them, feigning hurt. “You guys didn’t tell him about me?”

“It was a topic that didn’t come up.” Yunho admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s not our fault anyways, Mingi was gatekeeping you.” Jongho added, making the big man in front of you pout, a reaction that made Wooyoung reel at the sight. It was unfamiliar to see their intimidating gunner all soft and not…scary?

“When did he join?”

“Three months after you departed on your mission. We had to make a stop at Jupiter and Wooyoung recognized Yeosang, and he followed him, and now he’s one of us.” Seonghwa answered, eying the size difference between you and Mingi.

“And none of you mentioned me?”

“Mingi was gatekeeping you.” Jongho repeated, making everyone but Wooyoung laugh. He was still trying to grasp the new information of how you were Mingi’s lover and a member of the crew???

“Sure he was.” You rolled your eyes, moving from Mingi’s lap to the round platform to continue your little show for them.

“What are you doing undercover here?” Hongjoong asked, placing another bill on the platform to keep up with appearances and you bent over sensually to pick it up.

Was Mingi okay with this? Wooyoung glanced with wide eyes at their gunner. Was he okay with all of them seeing you like this?

Mingi was watching you with desire. He was reclined so comfortably on the couch, his thighs spread apart as he bit his plump lips at the sight of you entertaining them in the sexy skimpy number you wore. Was this a kink of his? Wooyoung wondered, unable to stop the way his face scrunched at his many unanswered questions.

“Because the information Vix won’t give you, I was able to get.” You told Hongjoong with a smile, and the leaders smirk morphed into a grin. “It’s amazing how flowery words and too much alcohol was all it took. I didn’t even have to take my top off.”

“Good cause I would’ve gauged his fucking eyes out if he saw what was mine.” Mingi growled, hands closing into fists to restrain himself from holding you to him.

“Will you?” Jongho confidently suggested with smirk.

“Will I what?” You coyly smiled, acting innocent.

“Take your top off?”

“Was seeing my pussy not enough for you?”

Wooyoung couldn’t believe the conversation flowing in front of him. He was painfully hard but his confusion and shock had his mind a mess. He didn’t know what thought to entertain or what he wanted to ask.

“Nothing is ever enough when it comes to you, doll.” Mingi muttered, tilting his head a little to the side as if to get a better look at you.

“So you have what I want?” Hongjoong casually glanced at the CCTV keeping watch of all of you.

“Yes I do. The timing of everything is kind of funny. It was Vix I was supposed to be dancing for tonight,” you told them, twirling around the pole. “I was going to get rid of him for you since he’s not of use anymore then I would’ve found a way to get to Xeres since that was your next destination for a restock of supplies on the ship.”

“Well it seems destiny is always in our favor.”

“So shall I finish him off?” San asked, rolling up the sleeves of his button up.

“Will he be any trouble to us if we let him live, angel?” Seonghwa turned to you, licking his lips when you were on your knees, sitting prettily before them.

“He’s not much of a threat. We should be more worried about his boss because he asked for me after I finish with you boys.”

Seonghwa leaned over to add more bills to your garter and San’s defensive posture softened.

“Which is why I’m amazed at the timing of finding all of you here tonight.”

“Is it the first time he’s asked for you?”

They saw your eyes flicker with fear for a split second and you shook your head.

“But he scares me.”

Mingi and San’s aura darkened at your words. It took a lot for you to be scared by someone.

“He knows a lot of things he shouldn’t know. He mentioned and boasted about the Academy when I met him. I was sure then that my cover was going to be blown.”

“So what’s the plan now?”

“Well since I hacked into his data systems earlier in his penthouse just above this club and took more than I came for. At exactly 2:27 am, the club will black out and we can make our escape then through the back door here thats used usually by the dancers to get in and out quicker for shifts.”

“What did you take other than the information about where the Cromer could be?” Hongjoong called your attention while his hand raised slightly in a gesture that the rest understood except for Wooyoung.

“Jongho, can you please hand me my purse please?”

They watched as you opened the bedazzled flap of the purse and took the bills beneath your garter and stuffed them inside, giving Hongjoong a glimpse of a glowing crystal that was one of the most sought after items of the galaxy.

Hongjoong only shook his head with a smile and you decided to turn to the new crew member.

“So, Wooyoung, right?”

He was caught off guard by your sudden attention.

“It’s nice to meet you and I hope we can get along well,” you warmly smiled at him, your pretty face glowing beneath the colored lights.

“Two minutes,” San checked the time on his watch.

“Oh, fun.” You giggled, sitting on the edge of the platform.

“Can you even make a run in those?” Wooyoung glanced at your very high heels, trying to remove the image of your pretty pink pussy that you had flashed to them.

He remembered your exchange from earlier.

What do you taste like?

Like heaven.

It was against his morals to want to fuck someone that was someone else’s lover. You were Mingi’s and Wooyoung couldn’t deny the fact that he was burning with jealousy with the thought of you being touched by Mingi.

“She could kill in those,” Yeosang answered for you. “So back door?”

“End of the hall, camouflaged with the wall.”

“I missed you so much baby.” Mingi groaned getting up and placing his large hands on your waist.

“Me too. More than you know.” Your voice softened, no longer in the facade of the identity you’ve been using.

“Ten seconds.” San announced.

“I’m not gonna let you run around like this.” Mingi slid his hands to your hips, biting his lip at the tiny piece of underwear covering the heaven between your thighs.

“Here, Y/N.” Yunho handed you his blazer. “Wear that.”

“Thank you, Yuyu.”

His blazer was like a dress on you and it made you look so tiny. Wooyoung pushed his hair back, trying to ease his frustration of both lust and knowing too late about who you are. He was also a little scared of how and when Mingi will confront him later because he was flirting with you.

“Good to have you back, Y/N.” Was all Hongjoong said before the whole establishment was enveloped in darkness and the nine of you made your escape.

A small squeak came from you in the darkness because Mingi had thrown you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, and he carried you easily as you all made your exit.

When the bouncer, one of Vix’s goons, checked the room when the power came back on, he began to sweat nervously at the emptiness he was met with. He was going to be in big trouble.

Jongho hijacked a black van and used it to drive the nine of you to where the ship was docked, which was going to be a solid thirty minutes to get to.

Your soft giggles was a pleasant sound to all their ears as Mingi was all over of you in the back of the van.

“We’re glad to have our favorite girl back.” Seonghwa smiled fondly, watching as Mingi attacked your neck with kisses and his hands tickled your sides causing the very missed melodious laughter to fill the van.

The Vice Captain looked to his left to check on the members all of them well and in one piece minding their own business and checking the parameter if anyone was chasing the crew. Seonghwa spotted Wooyoung staring at you and Mingi through the tinted windows, his Adam’s apple bobbing deeply as he swallowed what he could see was envy mixed with desire.

“You okay there?” He quietly asked their new member.

“Huh? What?” Wooyoung responded as if broken out from a trance. “Oh,I- uh, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. Just…” he paused wondering if he could confide in Seonghwa but the handsome older man’s gentle eyes was hard to say no to. “Just shocked that’s all.” He decided to not share his deep feelings.

Seonghwa knew and could tell that Wooyoung was attracted to you, and he knew he was feeling conflicted for feeling that way especially after seeing how you and Mingi acted.

Wooyoung gave him a small smile before turning to the window again, staring at the buildings they passed by.

As Seonghwa left him with his thoughts, he wondered how he was going to break it to their newest member the true nature of the crews relationship with you. How kind of unorthodox it was….How Mingi was not your only lover but theirs as well.

taglist : @endeav0rsb1tch @eastleighsblog @scarfac3

Thank you for reading! Make sure to like and reblog hehe 💕

[pedrospookie]

Hi pookie 🎀

I always think about what Jack Daniels would be like on a first date with reader after his wife’s death, maybe years have passed and he’s ready to start dating again. I could just imagine how sweet he would be when he flirts with you, trying his best to get you to like him 😭 fluffy fluff please 🩷

Hi friend!

Thank you so much for your patience while I wrote this fic— life got the best of me going into the holidays and I had some unexpected international travel on top of it all. I was determined like hell to get this finished for you today. I hope you like it!

Your Song

Jack Daniels x f!reader

a/n: not canon, jack will never be dead in my world, sorry not sorry! it’s also severely unbeta’d and completed while maxed out on mucinex so please forgive me for any plot holes or spelling mistakes. I also fear I went a lil rogue and made it a lil more sexy than sweet (I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry pls don’t hate me)

tw: mentions Jack’s dead wife & child, otherwise it’s just fluff!

As far as first dates go, this one was special. This was the first date Jack had been on since the passing of his wife and unborn son.

Sure, in his time as a Statesman he spent the night in the company of lovely women, wining and dining, gaining intel, passing the time. But Jack was a lover at heart. Beneath this rugged, suave, confident cowboy exterior was a soft, sensitive man who missed coming home to his wife at the end of a long day. His career exhausted him over time, proving to him that he could no longer run from this empty hole growing inside his chest. What was the point in fighting and risking his life if there was no one worth fighting for anymore?

After many years of service and one faked death later, Agent Whiskey hung up his hat and retired from the service. He was ready to start his life over.

And today was one of the many new firsts in this new chapter of his life. Today he was getting back on the horse and going on a date. You had caught his eye awhile back, both reaching for the last heirloom tomato at the farmer’s market. Through a small, yet friendly exchange, in which Jack let you have the last tomato, you realized that there was something there. The twinkle in his chocolate coloured eyes lit a flame in you. It took Jack a moment to accept his growing interest in you, praying that his angel in heaven would forgive him for moving on, let alone help him find the courage to ask you out. After 45 minutes of chatting in the produce section of the tiny wooden booth, and a short mosey to the cash, Jack finally found the courage to ask you on a proper date. The cool, confident cowboy was now replaced with a sweet, simple boy who wanted to get it right. You found his nervousness endearing, the way he fiddled with his moustache while trying to spit out the words to invite you out. How could you say no to those big brown puppy dog eyes? It was decided. The following Friday, Jack would swing by your place to pick you up for your first date: drinks at the local watering hole. If he was lucky, maybe you’d even let him have a dance by the ol’ jukebox.

At the respectable time of 7pm— sharp —Jack arrived with a gentle knock at your door. The anticipation was slowly knotting in his stomach, him frantically trying to untangle each worry and nerve until his attention turned with the sight of you standing in front of him. Jack could have caught flies with the way his mouth was hanging open, basking in your beauty. The silhouette of your dress flowing ever so gently among the evening breeze, causing his heart to race in his chest and pulse to quicken. The gentle flowers on the fabric trickled down just above where the hem of your skirt kissed your knee. Jack could feel his cheeks redden as he tried to look away, but simply couldn’t.

“Darlin’, you are gorgeous.” He breathes, clasping a firm hand to his chest as he tries to catch his breath, shooting you a look that makes butterflies soar in your tummy and knees buckle softly beneath you. His big brown eyes pooling into you, trying to take you in under the glow of the setting sun and dull porch light.

The hazy bar was filled with the regular crowd. The hum of people murmuring about their day filled the space, loud enough to drown out the music playing the background, but quiet enough to enjoy a conversation with the person in front of you. Jack had grabbed you both a drink, smirking as he asked you to pick your poison and shooting you a cheeky wink from the bar. After a couple of rounds, small talk and a shared bowl of peanuts, influenced by the liquor you’d consumed, you felt brave.

“How ‘bout a lil wager, cowboy?” You chirp, chewing softly on the straw of your drink, eyes focused on Jack’s as his fingers slowly twine themselves in yours, resting on the sticky wooden table top.

He smirks, his moustache following the coiling trail of his lips. Jack had never been one to back down from a bet, he wondered if it was too soon to show his competitive side, this was the first date after all.

You raise a single eyebrow, eagerly awaiting his reply. Jack tilts his head with a crooked smile, intrigued by your proposition and encouraging you to share what plagued your mind.

“If you can figure out how to take these coins off of this bill,” you muse, making the cotton bill taught, “only using only one hand, then the twenty is yours.” You smile, placing the twenty dollar bill on top of Jack’s empty beer bottle and stacking the spare change from the counter on top.

“And if I don’t?” He asks, seduction curling around his tone, like smoke off of a rich cigar. Jack’s dark eyes fall on you, his gazing piercing yours with a focus so intense that it sends a warmth through your belly.

You could feel your mouth go dry, suddenly very aware of your tongue and the words you are trying to choke out. Jack had taken your breath away with this sharp turn, from southern sweetheart to cowboy Casanova. In need of moisture, you clear your throat, averting your gaze from his to try and gain composure over yourself.

“Then the next round is on you.” You murmur, bringing your eyes up to meet Jack’s again, feeling yourself wanting to back away and draw first in this unspoken showdown.

“Hm…I think I could raise those stakes.” he smirks, leaning back on his bar stool. “If I don’t figure out your little party trick, then the next round is on me, darlin’.” Jack says confidently, bringing your free hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the delicate skin. “But if I do, then you can keep your twenty.” He adds, shrugging as if it were a matter of fact.

“Keep my twenty? You don’t want twenty dollars?” You scoff, playfully pulling your hand away from his as you reach for another sip of your drink, using this opportunity to ground yourself during this intense kinetic exchange.

“Nah, you keep it sugar.” Jack’s sly smile creeps up his face as he leans in, resting his chin on his hand, supported by his elbow which was now glued on the sticky table.

“Come on there’s gotta be something you want, something to wager?” You instigate, trying to rev that fire growing in your belly, eyes narrowing as you try to intimidate the cowboy. Proving to him that you aren’t going to back away from him now.

He thinks for a second, pretending to come up with this idea on the spot, snapping his fingers to indicate his little eurika! moment. Little did you know, this is what Jack had wanted from the very moment you made this little bet.

“There is.” His dark, raspy tone murmurs, further coaxing your curiosity. Jack slowly leans closer, his scent swirling off of him; notes of amber, leather, musk and cinnamon, a delicious combination that makes your head feel light and knees weak.

“More valuable than twenty dollars? Cause that’s all I’ve got.” You whisper, the facade fading as you feel yourself slowly submitting to Jack and his dark gaze.

“Darlin’, it’s much more valuable.” He says softly, grazing your ear with his moustache. His calloused finger brushing a piece of fallen hair behind your ear.

“And what would that be?” You breathe, the words barely coming out louder than a whisper.

“A dance with you.” He nods towards the jukebox towards the back of the bar.

This was the one moment in a long time where Jack was thankful for his training. Without breaking eye contact, he playfully tugged on the dollar bill, pretending to pull it out from the side. For a moment, you thought you had Jack fooled— another man falling for your cute bar trick. The feeling of the last few rounds was already making its way up your body, a warm, cozy feeling wrapping itself around you. There was certainly no need for another round, and who were you kidding? Jack had already paid for every round until this point and you had a sneaking suspicion that regardless of outcome, he would insist on paying for another.

Faking a deep sigh, Jack licks his finger and swipes down on the dollar bill, freeing it from the mismatched metal weighing it down. With a smirk and the tip of his hat, he hands you back your twenty dollar bill, trying to repress a chuckle. The look on your face was priceless and all he needed in return for foiling your trick.

“Pick a song, darlin’.” He says, handing you a handful of quarters, leaning up against the fluorescent machine. You press the cool metal in as you try to think of the perfect song, nothing too cheesy or outdated, but just right.

The melodious sound of a piano playing a familiar tune starts to flow out of the jukebox. Jack’s eyes grow wide with pride as he starts to recognize the song. A flushed feeling floods your cheeks, as he reaches his large, calloused hand out, offering yours a spot in his palm.

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside,

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

You slowly find your rhythm with Jack’s guidance, his firm yet gentle grip guiding you around the jukebox, building your confidence and chuckling softly anytime you would mutter a sheepish apology after stepping on his foot.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance.” You breathe out softly, finally making eye contact with him.

A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he leans in closer to you, your body pressing tighter into his chest. “Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me, darlin’.”

You could feel his smirk against your ear, eyes locking as he pulled away from your close embrace.

And you can tell everybody

This is your song

It may be quite simple but,

Now that it’s done

His gaze was magnetic, dark yet sweet, delicious like molasses with an affinity to coax you in. His thick, rugged hands held yours with a featherlight touch and the gentlest pressure on your lower back as he guided you around the floor. This moment was trance-like, as if you were the only two people in the bar. There was something enchanting about Jack Daniels, his ability to make you feel like the only girl in the world was dizzying. With the faintest touch, or twinkle of his eye, he had you hook, line and sinker.

It was refreshing to be out with a man like Jack — an actual man, one who wasn’t afraid of sharing his feelings with you, a man who was respectful and appreciative of you, a man who found the balance of southern chivalry and the ability to roll with the new age. With every twang of his southern drawl, your heart crept closer and closer to his. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him and those deep brown eyes, the ones that were gazing at you longingly, studying the precious features of your face.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack was drinking you in.

You had kindled something in him, something long repressed from his past and aching to explode to the forefront. The way you smiled at him made him tongue tied, he knew you were beautiful from the moment he met you, but getting to experience your beauty up close was astonishing. He tried to stifle the growing flames in his belly, employing his fear to extinguish these feelings but it only stoked the fire more, sending those flames burning. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly. He had from the moment you opened that door.

You notice a cheeky look across the cowboy’s eyes, his guiding hand slowly pushing you back from your resting place on his chest. Suddenly, the entire bar was spinning around you, once, then twice, and then you were back home in your place on Jack’s firm chest. His eyes asking for forgiveness in a childish, playful way.

I hope you don’t mind

I hope you don’t mind

That I put into words

How wonderful life is while

You’re in the world

Completely enraptured by one another until the sound of a wild guitar solo brought you back down to earth, the song you shared long gone and replaced by the sounds of an 80’s hair band.

A smooth Casanova through and through, Jack slowly presses his hand to your back and he slowly lowers you into a dip, your arm gripping tighter onto the back of his neck, using his taught chest as an anchor. Jack’s lips are now inches from yours, his moustache ghosting over your bottom lip, as if he were testing the waters faintly before bringing you back up to your feet.

You couldn’t decipher the soft look in his eyes, the warm brown tone being taken over by the dark pools of his irises as his thumb traces the contour of your full lips. His hot breath skimming the surface of your face, his mouth desperate and hungry for something.

A slow smile grows on your face, grateful for the liquid courage, slowly pulling his face closer to yours, lips inches from yours.

“You know, Jack…this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.” You whisper softly, granting the old fashioned man permission, subconsciously knowing what his eyes had been asking. Within milliseconds, his plush lips crashed onto yours, wrapping you into a passionate embrace. The taste of mint, whiskey and something inherently Jack on his lips. You couldn’t get enough of it.

Jack slowly breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead gently to yours as he catches his breath. His stomach filled with butterflies, dragonflies and ladybugs, anything lovely and sweet that reminds him of you, going absolutely wild from the simple touch of your lips. You were magic, like a drug Jack had so deeply yearned for all of these years, and he couldn’t get enough of you. He said a silent prayer of gratitude, in complete and utter disbelief to have this second chance at love in this life. He wasn’t going to take you for granted.

banners by @saradika-graphics 🤍

tag list: @josephquinnswhore @syd-djarin

[shima-draws]

Malachi time 🥰

More info on him below the cut!

Name: Malachi (Codename: Valet)

Age: 28

Hair color: Brown (with white streaks)

Eye color: Gold

Element: Fire

The yin to Rozen's yang 😤 A lot of his story has already been shared on Rozen's post so I'll just be copying over most of that!

Malachi had a relatively normal life growing up with a family who loved him, but their lives were brought to a violent end when they were suddenly attacked by a group of rogues after their fortune. Soon after he was brought to the same orphanage Rozen was part of. Losing his parents was traumatic for Malachi; he retreated within himself and could really only express himself through anger and hatred in an attempt to deal with the loss.

Out of everyone in the orphanage Malachi butted heads with Rozen the most, finding his similar prickly personality and arrogance to be extremely irritating. Rozen viewed Malachi as a little brat and basically had the opinion of “boo hoo you’re an orphan well at least your parents loved you and didn’t throw you away like mine did”. (So, a biiiiit of jealousy there. LMAO) Malachi correctly called him out for being a total fake, knowing that his entire life was just an act. They were definitely at each other’s throats for a while!

All of this changed when Rozen got a bit too big for his britches and pissed off the wrong crowd. Surprisingly, Malachi rescued him from being beaten to absolute shit and Rozen was shocked that Malachi actually helped him. Even though he'd been through some hardships Malachi was still a kind person at heart, and couldn't just leave Rozen to get hurt (even though he was really tempted to lol). Rozen started to soften up around him after this, and slowly started to drop his defenses and show his true personality. Despite Malachi finding Rozen’s change of heart “creepy”, and his sudden personality change kind of drastic, he couldn’t help but grow attached to him too. Before long they were practically attached at the hip, and if you saw one of them you’d know the other wasn’t too far behind.

At this point Rozen was fully himself instead of the persona/act he’d been putting on for all his life. AKA he essentially has the personality of a golden retriever, is kind of an airhead (or an idiot, according to Malachi), and is a total softie. Him finally showing his kinder side helped Malachi too, and eventually, after spending two years together, Malachi was crushing on him HARD lol. Of course, Rozen only really viewed Malachi as a best friend, especially due to their age difference (being 4 years apart, with Rozen being 17 at the time and Malachi being 13). Both of them had the opinion that the other had saved them, in a way. Malachi depended heavily on Rozen, who helped him through his trauma and helped him come to terms with his parents' death. They both looked at each other and thought "there's still good in the world after all" 😭

Throughout the two years they spent together, Malachi actually grew quite close with one of the local shop owners, a lovely girl who ran a bakery. She was endlessly kind to him and sparked a passion in him, which lead to him wanting to learn how to bake. Most evenings he'd find himself in her shop learning the ropes (with Rozen mooching off of his end results lol). Malachi mused that maybe one day he could use his skills to make his own pastries and get paid for it ;)

As time went on Rozen and Malachi became more and more determined to leave the orphanage together, either being adopted as a package deal or just leaving when they were finally of age. This came crashing down when a couple looking to adopt just Malachi showed up, and despite the pair’s attempts to sabotage any sort of chance Malachi would get adopted, the couple was insistent on taking him home. This sparked some suspicion in Rozen, wondering just why they were so intent on Malachi. He soon found out that these people were connected to the rogues that had killed Malachi’s parents–they were seeking the same fortune and knew that Malachi was the key to finding it. Rozen confronted them and convinced them to take him instead, as Malachi had told him he had no idea about his parents’ riches so he’d essentially be useless to the couple. Rozen offered his services and promised he would stop at nothing to find them the treasure, as long as they left Malachi alone. The couple agreed.

Malachi, of course, was devastated to find out about Rozen being adopted (and right before he’d become of age too), not wanting to be apart from him. Rozen explained his reasoning and revealed it was all part of his plan–he’d go away with the couple and then slip back to the orphanage in the middle of the night, where he and Malachi would run away together. With a promise to return, Rozen left with the couple, leaving Malachi behind to wait.

Malachi didn't get the chance to wait, unfortunately, because suddenly the village was attacked, and the orphanage was set on fire. Desperate to get to Rozen, Malachi tried in vain to get out, but found himself trapped. He was burned badly by the fire, and right as he thought he was going to die, he suddenly awakened his elemental powers--the power of fire. Ironic that the thing to save him was the thing that hurt him in the first place. Using this gift, he was able to escape the building, and was rescued by none other than the baker girl he'd been training under. She rushed him off to the nearest recovery shelter, and after days of being unconscious, when he awoke she broke the news to him that Rozen was most likely dead. She explained that the couple who had adopted him were found slaughtered in a nearby manor, along with all of their associates, and that they were found out to be criminals. Malachi was absolutely heartbroken by the news and demanded more details about Rozen. The girl told him that Rozen's body was not found, but it was unlikely that he escaped unscathed. This was enough for Malachi, who was certain that Rozen was out there alive somewhere. Maybe he'd come back to the orphanage and was waiting for him right now!

The baker girl took Malachi to the now destroyed orphanage in an attempt to find Rozen. However, Rozen wasn't there. Malachi refused to give up and decided to wait for him. Days passed and with no further sign that Rozen would show the baker girl gently told him that maybe it was time for him to move on. Devastated, Malachi still remained stubborn and told her he would wait, despite knowing that it wasn't likely Rozen would come back for him. But there HAD to be a reason, right? Maybe Rozen was in trouble. If he had been attacked that night, maybe he couldn't make it back to the village. Maybe...

Malachi was placed under the baker girl's care, and from there he began his search. Any sort of leads or sightings of Rozen was the treasure he sought after for the next 15 years, absolutely determined to find any clues to his whereabouts. Between his searching, he continued to hone his craft as a baker, along with learning how to use his magic. Eventually he was scouted by a sort of intelligence agency, who promised to help him in his search for Rozen in return for his services. Malachi leapt at the chance, knowing that this would open avenues previously off limits to him.

After years of essentially being an agent, and now a very skilled fighter, Malachi was given a new assignment--infiltrate an underground crime organization, a gambling ring, in order to get information so that they could eventually be dismantled. After being accepted into the organization under the codename "Valet" and meeting their leader, Roi, Malachi was shocked when he was introduced to one of Roi's top members--a master of cards, a man by the codename of "Cavalier". Malachi recognized him immediately. It was Rozen!! Finally, after years of searching he'd found the person he'd been looking for. Rozen didn't seem to recognize him, but, well. Malachi couldn't really blame him, he HAD changed a lot over the past decade or so. (It stung though, just a little bit.)

Malachi was immediately ready to blow his cover and abandon the mission in order to get Rozen out; this was part of the terms he'd set with the agency--if at any point he found Rozen, or if the agency found Rozen for him, he'd be able to leave of his own volition. However, the agency refused to let him blow his cover, saying the mission was too important, and that Rozen, working directly under Roi, was likely in grave danger. (To Malachi, this seemed like an even bigger reason to get Rozen out ASAP.)

After a lot of back and forth Malachi finally came to an agreement with his agency, but he was NOT happy about it. He had to spend the next several months undercover as Valet, tortured by the fact that Rozen was literally within reach but he couldn't do shit about it. And to top it all off, he witnessed everything happening behind the scenes--how toxic Roi was, how he manipulated and threatened and abused Rozen, and Malachi was seconds away from attempting murder at any given time. All he can do is be as sympathetic as possible and try to butt into his business, urging him to break free from Roi and find a better path in life. Rozen isn’t too happy with someone intruding on his personal matters and lashes out at Malachi, causing a rift between them. Malachi only wants to help and doesn’t want to see Rozen suffer; Rozen knows better than anyone that there’s no escape from Roi and has resigned himself to his fate–and he doesn’t want to see Malachi get hurt either.

This is when Nahu and co. come in ;)

Nahu and co. are sent to infiltrate the gambling ring, and immediately things are thrown into absolute chaos. After many twists and turns (and plot), Nahu goes to face off against Roi in one final fight. Roi captures Rozen and chains him up, unwilling to let his perfect pawn go free, and poisons him so that he loses any strength to escape. While Nahu is absolutely wrecking shit fighting Roi, Malachi sneaks up to where Rozen is being held and attempts to set him free. Through the haze, Rozen witnesses "Valet" trying to free him, and sadly reminisces about Malachi. Rozen tells Malachi to let him go, to let him die–that way he can be with the only person he cares about again. Malachi yells at him and says no, he can’t die, because HE'S Malachi! Screw his cover, screw everything he'd been taught about keeping his identity secret, Malachi's been suffering for MONTHS and he won't let Rozen go now that he's so close.

Nahu defeats Roi, and before Rozen succumbs to the poison, Malachi threatens him and says he’d better not die before he can kick his ass. Days later he finally wakes up to find Malachi beside him, and immediately bursts into tears. Malachi explains everything about his past, about what happened that night, about how and why he'd infiltrated the gambling ring, and about how desperate he'd been to reveal himself to Rozen. Malachi tells him that he hadn’t thought of anything else but finding him for the past 15 years, and now that he’d found Rozen he’d never leave his side again 🥺 Rozen feels the same way. They both realize they’re probably in trouble, with Malachi prepared to abandon his duty to be with Rozen and Rozen with his…complicated history being involved in an underground crime organization. LMAO

Luckily for them, Nahu is all about recruiting them, and they both agree to join his squad <3 Their new life together begins!! Rozen has to grapple with the fact that Malachi is definitely not the kid he used to know and has grown up, a lot. Malachi, meanwhile, has been in love with Rozen since he was 12 and is trying everything he can to properly express that. Rozen slowly comes to terms with the fact that yeah, he’s probably in love with Malachi, and things just get more interesting from there as they dance around each other for months just trying to figure it out ;)

And there we go...both of them posted and together at last <3

[irondadfics]

Hiii ! Actually, can you recommend me GOOD and longgg Irondad fics and please !! I am desperate ! 😭😭

We have two lits of long fics: part 1 & part 2

and added a couple more.

A Peter Parker Problem by spagbol99

Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He'd been snapped out of existence until some sort of time travel and an active death wish by his mentor had saved him and the universe. Just your average sort of life for a 16 year old from Queens.  Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again. The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

Missing Links by spagbol99

The Rogues are back; Tony Stark couldn't even be mad about it - it was his idea after all. He's an Avenger and that means protecting the Earth at any cost - even if he has to deal with a certain star-spangled man and his sullen sidekick. After all, he's been through worse in his life; the loss of his wife and the disappearance of his son 12 years ago. Compared to that, this would be a walk in the park. Bucky Barnes is back on US soil as a free man. But freedom is more than just physical. On top of that, Steve is desperate for him to be the man he was before. The only problem is; that man is long dead. Peter Parker has been through the mill but he knows he just had to adapt, roll with the (many) punches and keep going. Spider-man is his safe place now, the one time he could truly feel like himself. Like he is making a difference. He'd make sure no one would suffer like he has, even if he has to track down the perpetrator himself.

Identity Saga by KitCat992

The Identity Saga, a thrilling 3-part journey, spins the web of a tale set in the altered universe where Tony Stark and Steve Rogers never disbanded the Avengers during Civil War. Instead, they decide to reassemble the team after their feud and mend their fractured bonds — if not for themselves, for a world that needs heroes now more than ever. Amidst their struggles, they come across an unexpected addition in their line up — Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, who finds his secret identity outed to his favorite heroes after getting into quite the sticky situation with one fish-bowl wearing criminal; setting into motion a gripping series of events that go far deeper than even the seas of the Bermuda Triangle.

The Missing 92 Days by YellowDistress

Peter wakes, ripping through the surface of the bath water, surrounded by the bodies of Hydra Agents. Their blood is on his hands.

[m1d-45]

I just used all my saved primogems on wanderer's banner and he still didnt come home 😭

Can I request a small sagau fic about him for comfort

rest

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: dialogue heavy reader, no spoilers though

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

your door was creaky. another thing to fix.

“why are you awake?”

but at least your wanderer was back.

you sit up from where you’re laying on the couch, taking a breath to clear your expression before turning to watch him come in. he shuts the door quietly despite the permanently sour look on his face, taking off his hat.

“welcome back. how was school?”

he made a face and you laughed, waving him over to join you. though he did walk closer, he merely crossed his arms and stood at the end of the couch. still, his voice wasn’t nearly as harsh as it could have been, “why do you insist on saying it like that?”

“the akademiya is a school, right?”

he stares, and you smile. it’s clear he doesn’t have an argument.

“i’m a professor.”

“you’re still going to school.”

“why are you upset?”

your smile slips. were you that transparent? “nothing for you to worry about. uh, you said you would be collecting draft essays today, right? how’d that go?”

his face shifts, softening just slightly around the edges. his hands fall, one propping on his side instead. “don’t change the subject.”

you could make a joke, but you’re too tired to try. the brief banter had given you some energy, but now…

you sigh, looking down to the discarded papers on the coffee table. letters, mostly, but a few diagrams you were supposed to look over. plans for a festival, a new shrine (how many did teyvat need?), the nth invitation to a lunch or event or whatever was going on that hour. you were honestly getting a headache before he showed up, and that wasn’t even addressing the other issues not on paper. “even gods can’t escape paperwork.”

he pulls all the papers—there’s a few not even taken from their envelopes yet, how did that happen—into a pile near the edge of the table, then sits beside you. he picks up a paper and skims it, then puts it to the side. “why are you handling this? shouldn’t someone else?”

you lean on his shoulder, watching as he begins to sort all the papers into two piles. you can’t pick out whatever pattern he’s using: some he lingers on for a few seconds, some he tosses in an instant. “they were addressed to me.”

“so? you don’t have to personally respond to every piece of fanmail.” he tosses one envelope into the second, larger pile with more force than the others. “it’s ridiculous. you should know better than to try and do all of this yourself.”

he’s probably right. as prickly as he can be, nine out of ten he at least had a good idea on how to approach an issue. he’d even clocked that you were stressed despite the fact that there was no was he could have seen your expression from the door.. though that may have something to do with your inability to hide your exhaustion when you turned.

“there.” he sets a final paper in the first, much smaller pile, then taps it into a neater stack. “this are the things that actually require your attention. don’t waste your time with things that don’t matter.”

“what about the other pile?”

“they don’t matter.”

“that’s rude.”

“it’s true. i can tell you’re tired already-“ damn, you didn’t want to worry him “-and i can guarantee most problems people have faced you with are better handled by others.”

“dear…”

“i’m serious.” he picks up the larger second pile, arranging them into a neater stack. “what do you have to do? name them.”

“theres a merchant in liyue-“

“that can be handled by the ministry of civil affairs.” he sets the pile down, leaning back. “what else?”

“an outbreak in mondstat-“

“knights of favonius’ problem.”

“a few rogues in sumeru have been defacing my statues.”

he paused, and you adjusted your position, leaning your back against him instead. he lifted his arm and put it across your chest, and when he spoke it was much softer. “still better handled by the mahamatra. if you aren’t directly involved, there’s no need to worry about them.”

“but they’re asking for help…”

“they’re asking the wrong person. trust me, you’re above them and their petty squabbles. in fact.. you should take a nap.”

“what?”

he moved toward the end of the couch, laying your head in his lap. “take a nap. or just lie down, i don’t care. relax for a bit. these people have given you too much stress already, it’s better if you didn’t waste any more energy on them.”

he was looking away, still obviously trying to keep up the image of indifference, but you could still spot the cracks. his hand still stayed on your shoulder, tracing random shapes across your shirt, and he didn’t say anything snarky when you put your own hand over his.

he cared for you, just as you cared for him. he cared enough that he’d remind you not to worry about unnecessary things, that he’d physically put himself between you and whatever problem the world demanded you face, even though on the surface it wouldn’t seem like he viewed you with anything less than distaste.

well, to others it was a conundrum. to you it was pretty clear, as who else would he sit with like this? he regularly ranted on about those who attended his lectures, still dismissed the words of mahamatra, still ignored most other authorities save for possibly nahida. but for you, he’d sort through your paperwork and have you sleep where he could ensure you did… he was sweet like that.

you smiled. “you’re adorable.”

“i am not.”

[bomber-grl]

Leo Valdez x Child of Hecate ☾

Pairing(s): Leo Valdez x Gn!Reader

Leo was most definitely intimidated by you at first sight 😭

I mean all attractive people are, not to mention how mysterious and cool you seemed

Leo knows a baddie when he sees one

Well anyway, the only way the two of you could have possibly crossed paths was by someone else or you orchestrating the whole thing

Ofc again, it’s my girl Annabeth

She’s been at camp the longest and has a reputation so ofc she’s the one who always introduces reader and love interest

Well, it was only after annabeth needed help from the Hecate cabin and Leo was involved because he was the problem

An invention of his went rogue (luckily not because he built it wrong) but yk

Well once you do annabeth thanks you in her own way and when Leo has the chance to speak he just..can’t?!!

I mean not only do you seem cool but gah damn u look like a goth baddie

Home boy is stunned and can only manage a stupid as joke/ pick up line which even he asks himself, why???

Well while hes internally committing he heard the least expected thing

Which was you of all people laughing

You’re usually quiet and kept to yourself so seeing you like this was like when the clouds move and lets the sun shine in-

Cringe ahh mf , really this generations Shakespeare

Well he’s so shocked then the two of you just stand there like 🕴️🕴️

And if he manages to have his inventions go rogue every other day and needs your help specifically, well let’s just say it’s a coincidence

The two of you inevitably get close and the more he hangs out with you the more he falls in love

On surface level you’re dark, mysterious and most of all, intimidating

But now? You’re so easy going, it’s like the two of you have known each other since fetus days

Eventually you two get together because of an adventure that ended with you two getting closer and more open.

Once Leo is your boyfriend- he’s insufferable

I mean he’s his usual goofy, flirty(?) self and he’s so cringe but you love it all the same

Best believe Leo is head over heels for you and when it comes to your magic and stuff he’s particularly keen

especially when you randomly give him a crystal necklace for whatever reason and suddenly you hear Leo going around camp casually mentioning that his witchy s/o got him something

Which, yk endearing but still a lil embarrassing

Leo is always there to help you when you’re making potions, spells, it doesn’t matter

I mean at times he’s a bit spooked at what you can do but he’s still by your side regardless

Now, when it comes to your family on your Greek side- he’s scared

I’m mean, you’re probably scared too depending on if you’re a guy considering how basically every daughter/ female family of Hecate hates men

(You’re probs exempt cuz ur mom Hecate but still)

Bro is spooked, he does NOT want to be a guinea pig

And speaking of your mom, Leos timbers and shivered at the thought of meeting her and her not liking him

I mean it’s not all that important but depending if you’re especially fond of your mom then he’s shivering and timbering

Anyway, Leo is so lucky to have you by his side especially since sometimes he can forget how strong you are

(Also ik hecate is a minor goddess in the books and her children are shown to be weak but i refuse to acknowledge that as child of Hecate)

If you ever try and read his palm or do his birth chart he’ll probably just nod along and not know what you’re talking about 💀

Gotta love Leo

And if any animals that are sacred to Hecate approach you two he’s scared shitless (looking at you snakes)

Not to mention how crows can literally speak, no thank you

[michaelbluthsdeadwife]

can u write spencer introducing reader to star wars💕💕?? ive never seen it 😭

Star Wars

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Summary: Spencer is really excited to introduce you to Star Wars.

Warnings: reader gets a little stressed out, cursing, pre established relationship, reader works at smosh, not proof read!

Fluff!!!!

Point of view: 2nd person

A/n: this request was so adorable and I had so much fun writing it! I took this prompt and ran (maybe a little to far) with it SO if this wasn’t what you wanted I’m so sorry!! Id be willing to rewrite it if so.

————————————————————————————————————

————————————————————————————————————

You can already tell today will be very interesting. Well, the next few weeks actually.

A few days ago you had revealed to Spencer that you’ve never seen a Star Wars movie. Of course, he was shocked as to how this was the first he was hearing of it.

“You’ve never seen a Star Wars movie? How?”

“I don’t know, when I was a kid I wasn’t allowed to watch it and by the time I was an adult there were way too many and starting just felt overwhelming.” You shrugged it off as if it was nothing.

To Spencer, it was not nothing.

So he convinced, nay, begged you to watch with him.

“Come on, it’s like my favorite thing! We always watch (y/f/s) together, baby. Pleaseeeeeee.”

What were you gonna do, say no? How could you? He was right, you always forced him to watch what you wanted, so it was only fair that you comply.

However, you were still a little exhausted just thinking about the idea of committing to an entire film series. You looked it up, it will take you 25 hours and 7 minutes to watch all the Star Wars movies. This, however, includes the nine movies from the Skywalker saga and the two anthology movies, Rogue One and Solo. Excluding the anthology movies, it will take you 20 hours and 39 minutes to watch and Spencer gave in and promised not to make you watch the anthology films.

‘Okay,’ you think, ‘if we watch one movie a night it will only take a little over a week. That’s not bad, right?’

You tried to convince yourself, but you’ve always had issues with things like this. You’re a hard worker, so taking this much time to watch movies always felt like a waste to you. You felt like you could much easily find a better use of your time, like you were missing out on what you could’ve been spending on more productive activities. In all honesty, it stressed you out.

The work day is now over, you have just finished filming your last video of the day and you’re walking to the games pod to find your boyfriend. There he is, working on something on his computer. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you bury your head into his neck.

He lets out one of his signature stupid laughs and gently rubs your arm. “Im almost done, then we can go home.” You nod, and he leans his head onto yours, “are you excited?” He whispers.

You raise your head from his shoulder so your faces are level, “hmm… depends. Are there any hot guys in these movies?” You squint your eyes.

Spencer laughs, “oh, yeah, definitely. Just wait ‘til you see Han Solo.” He raises his eyebrows, “or Anakin, he’s more your type.”

“Okay, now I’m excited.” You laugh, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Spencer closes his laptop and begins to put away his belongings for the day while you sit in his chair. “Hey,” he says, still putting things in his bag, causing you to look up at him, “I really appreciate you doing this with me…” he turns to look at you, “like, it really means a lot that you’re letting me share something with you that’s important to me. I know you’re not really into all this… space stuff, but..” he shrugs, stepping closer, “it makes me really happy that you’re doing this, that’s all.”

Your heart melts hearing this. ‘How is he so perfect? I can’t believe I was being so selfish, making this about me when it’s not. Its about him. Who cares if it’s not productive in a conventional sense of the word? it’s productive for our relationship. That’s what matters. Us. Who cares about all this superficial shit? The only thing that truly matters is doing what makes you happy, and I’m happy with Spencer.’ You stand, walking to him until you’re standing directly in front of him.

You place your hands on either side of his face, looking up into his eyes. “You’re so sweet, you know that?” His hands find your waist as you lean into him, hugging him tightly. “Im honored you’re sharing this with me, sweetheart.”

You pull away from the hug and Spencer smiles at you, before kissing your forehead briefly. “I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too.” The two of you kiss, lost in your own little world for a moment. Its deep, yet sweet. Not rough or hasty, but full of love and passion. “We need to leave if we want to have time to actually watch the first movie, Spence.” You say, after pulling apart.

He rolls his eyes, turning to grab his backpack. “Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

The two of you walk to the parking lot, hand in hand, saying bye to the various cast and crew members you see on your way.

As you get into the drivers seat and connect your phone to the auxiliary cord, Spencer suddenly speaks out, “oh, shit, I almost forgot. Do you want to watch the movies in chronological order or in release order?” He asks, looking over at you.

You look up from your phone, thinking to yourself for a second before you turn your head to meet his gaze, your eyebrows furrowed.

“They weren’t released in chronological order?”

[andorerso]

Do you know any good “they each think the other is dead” RebelCaptain fics to recommend me??? That premise, for these two, it just does something to me and I want to read about it 😭 i’m sure it must’ve been done at some point by now at least once???

oooooh, there's more than one! well, it's not always both of them thinking it, but boy, you've come to the right person, because that's literally one of my favorite tropes! it's about the angst without having to fully commit to it, it's about the inevitable reunion 🤌 and it does work exceptionally well for them (I should write it one day… well actually I did, but it wasn't in canon-verse. I should write it one day in canon-verse)

anyway, here's a few I enjoyed:

grace will lead me home by @luciechat (TW: unplanned pregnancy which adds a bonus level of angst that I think was handled really well)

@moonprincess92 has two, bless her

182 days (my personal favorite, I think it was also the first fic I read with this trope so... thank you for making me obsessed with it)

and come home to me

Parka (The Only Thing She Had Left) by @sleepykalena (it's unfinished but it does end on a hopeful note and since it's a multichapter, it can really dig into the meat and bones of this trope. I know not everyone likes unfinished fics, but I highly recommend it, it will make you cry)

you must become an island (the horizon is all we have) by @callioope (Jedi!Jyn AU which I think is such an interesting concept)

The Sixth Mission: Undercover, Overwhelmed by @angel-deux-writes (it's a mission fic and a longer multichapter that's also part of a series, but the grief and emotions in this one... chef's kiss!)

a waking life by @singingfirefliess (also a multichapter! this one focuses more on healing and learning to be together, but it does have a plot point in which Jyn believes Cassian is dead)

and well, I may as well plug my own: i'm slowly drifting to you (it's a historical pirate au)

there's one more I remember but cannot find right now... something with Draven telling Jyn Cassian was killed and she's now in charge of Rogue One? if anyone knows, let me know!

[o-sunny-day]

THIS ONE GOT POSTED WAAAAY EARLIER THAN USUAL, BUT EY- IM NOT COMPLAINING!!! Just was completely bamboozled

SPANISH CLASS VERY QUICKLY BECAME A CHALLENGE OF TRYING NOT TO REACT TO STRONGLY TO THIS INFORMATION 😭😭

( @forgettable-au , go read it 🫵/th)

AAAUUUGH AHA!!! I KNEW IT IT WAS THE RIVER PERSON MWAHAHA all the evidence towards them being friends makes me actually giggle so much- cause why does it make so much sense AND WHY DIDN’T I NOTICE THAT

New head canon acquired… I love how Sans is outwardly mysterious, while Papyrus is just friends with a shitton of mysterious people

(ofc hes also weird- but you get me- VIBES WISE. He is not mysterious vibes wise.)

ANYWHO I really like seeing Papyrus in the judgment hall for fun reasons, and briefly MORE NEW HOME! Thats gotta be CREEEPPYY I feel like its the equivalent of walking around NYC and having it be completely silent and empty, the only sound being your own footsteps. I rock w it tho

lil bitch

HIS REACTION TO NOT KNOWING ABOUT THE RIVER PERSON IS SO FUNNYNFDHEDH hes so pissed…BAMBOOZLED, even

crack head theory coming from nothing but my own dwindling sanity: River Person is a rogue Gaster Follower, following Papyrus instead of Gaster and being silly. NO, NO. NO NEED TO CLAP! I KNOW IM BRILLIANT ALREADY!

I love em though theyre an underrated side character/NPC, and I love that they’re gonna be coming back cause YESSS. augh the way theyre draawwwnn. AAUGH. Fabric…Pretty…

Also obsessed with Flowey being surprised at the boat turning into a dog while Papyrus and River Person are just chilling

GAAAAHHH AND THEM TELLING PAPYRUS A GAME YOU CAN PLAY WITH A DOG, AND THAT THEY “ASKED AROUND” IT MAKES ME GIGGLE SM THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS BEAUTIFUL!!!!

Wait until bro hears about Fun Events

*bursts into tears*

THEN THIS LAST PAGE- AUGH THERES SO MUCH TO DIGEST BUT FIRST OF ALL I WANNA TALK ABOUT THIS

the fact that its framed but in a drawer, its with Sans’ things, PAPYRUS’ REACTION. THE FACT THAT SANS DOESNT BOTHER CAUSE HE FEELS LIKE THIS WONT LAST. “””””IM SURE HES GOING TO WANT SOME OF THESE BACK EVENTUALLY””””

idk gang it all just hits a part of my brain that makes me go

also….in the corner…..”ph”….photo album……maybe…?…..perchance….?????

…FLOWEY GET YOUR VINE OUT OF THE GODAMN WAY

That vine being there + there being such a focus on the picture with Papyrus’ reaction/ how the frame its in is drawn… It makes me think its gonna transition into Flowey grabbing it or something like that “OO! A CLUE!!!” But that might just be me

sorta unrelated…idk why im thinking of this just now, but IM JUMPIN FOR JOY imagining Floweys reaction to the holes in Papyrus’ hands like “OH GOD??? doesnt that…hurt?”

“…Good question!

IN GENERAL…Im just enjoying this so much. In your typical AU comic, itd be the other way around! Papyrus would get some good scenes, sure. But Sans is the one doing all the exploring, doing all the mysterying. BUT THIS AINT YOUR TYPICAL AU COMIC CAUSE of a bunch of reasons- BUT ALSO PAPYRUS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hes sooo much fun, so well written, so well DRAWN in this im freaking out about it but attempting to be calm(er)

[babyhatesreality]

I'm sick rn :( and just in pain 😭 so maybe thier baby is sick when they are on a Mission while she is by uncle tony and how would he handle it when she just cries for her daddies her daddies come back when she's asleep and comfort her after she wakes up

Oh man. I can FEEL Steve and Bucky's heartbreak just thinking about this...I hope you feel better soon darling!! Lots of water and rest. Sending you comforting hugs and healing vibes <3

They'd been gone a week with Natasha and Clint, working to bring in rogue Hydra agents, when they got a call from Tony.

You all got to Facetime every night, so at first they just thought it was another call.

But when they saw Tony cradling you in his arms and your red and teary eyes pop up on the screen, both of their hearts stopped.

Tony explained that you'd come down with a cold, and were feeling feverish and achy.

They both ached to hold you in their own arms and comfort you when you were so obviously feeling miserable.

Steve, of course, the family hypochondriac, immediately grilled Tony about every possible symptom and the timeline of everything.

Tony had taken you to Dr. Cho, as Bruce was currently in Wakanda with Shuri working on the tech to bring back any other brainwashed Hydra soldiers. He hadn't known at the time about your...caution with Dr. Cho, and it had been an interesting visit to say the least.

You clung to Tony like velcro the entire time. He also was pretty sure you didn't blink once when Dr. Cho was in the room, which just added to your misery of scratchy and tired eyes.

"I don't gotta get a shot, right Unca Tony?" you had asked in a whisper when Dr. Cho left the room to get some medicine for you.

"No shot, shortstack," Tony had confirmed. You immediately relaxed, but buried your face in his chest as you were still feeling lousy.

Tony described the decongestant and cough syrup to Steve in patient detail, when you burst into the conversation.

"Coughy syrup yucky," you grumbled.

"I know baby, but you gotta listen to Uncle Tony and take it. You understand?"

"Don't wanna, Papa."

"I know you don't. But the more you take that syrup, the better you'll feel when we get home. Okay?"

"You come home now, please?" you asked quietly, putting your little hand up on the screen, touching their pictures.

Tony could hear both their hearts shatter from across the globe.

"Soon, baby, we promise," Bucky croaked out, grabbing Steve's hand off camera for support. "We'll be home before you know it."

"That's a promise," Steve said in a husky voice. You just nodded and turned your face back into Tony's chest.

Two important things happened that night after that call.

The first was that Tony didn't put you down all night. He carried you around the complex, rocking you, telling you stories, comforting you, even singing a little ACDC to you to help keep you calm and relaxed.

The second was that World War Hydra was unleashed and won, all in a single night. With their stamina, strength, and the image of you needing them in their heads, Captain America and the Winter Soldier tore through the secret Hydra base and eliminated or captured every single threat. For every one member than Natasha or Clint brought down, they brought down five. The entire battle was over before Hydra even knew they were there.

Natasha flew home as fast as she could, refusing to let Steve fly as he was clearly still in an over-emotional state. But she pushed it to the absolutely max that she safely could.

It was five am when Steve and Bucky made it to the Stark floor of the Tower. JARVIS had alerted Tony of their homecoming, and they went straight to you.

Tony gently put you in Steve's arms while Bucky hovered nervously.

And in your sleep, you sighed and smiled.

Even though you were fast asleep, you still knew they had come home to you. Just like they promised.

[tanukitsuneko-suki]

build episode 44 thoughts:

- no more memes i’m expressing myself solely through text

- kazumin and gentokun i’m sorry i know you guys are trying your best but this is so funny to me. can you imagine the guilt they’d feel after senryuu saves their asses

- THEY JUST GAVE UP ROFL

- ah. Oh. Okay. One last bottle if they succeed with kazumin and gentoku. huhhhh i wonder who would that be 🤔

- maybe there are parallel universes involved. because i do wonder. i know k** has that even if only in the spin-off movie

- i think the dad is Good actually but i kinda hate his ass atm so ✌︎('ω')✌︎

- my son looks like a moron in these contraptions

- half-naked banjo and he’s unmoved ohhhh i could never

- BLIZZARD KNUCKLE FUCK I KNEW IT!!!! I FUCKING KNEW HE’D LOOK GOOD IN ICE/AS AN ICE DRAGON FUCK FUCK FUCKKKKKK!!!!!!!! THANK YOU SENTO SAIKOU DESHOU TENSAI DESHOU 😭🙏🙏💙💙💙💙💙❄️❄️❄️

- KONO MAMA ARUKI TSUDZUKETERUUUUU

- oh my god they ARE getting turned into lost smashes 😭😬

- wait. the episode title??? THE END OF EVOLT??? HUH?

- they’re so fucking suicidal too damn okayyyy

- “at first it was for my home.” so now is it for sento or what :-|

- they’re so funny acting in the tubes btw

- hell NAHHHHH THEY JUST DROPPED BY THE FACILITY FOR A FREE UPGRADE 😂

- AND THEY JUST FUCKING RAN AWAY GENKAZU STOP YALL ARE TOO FUNNY😭😭😭😭

- do you guys think they also stayed up playing monhun too

- married couple saving their bachelor friends lmfao

- i think it’s funny. like. mid-season i was still unconvinced it’s that shippable but. they’re literally giving married couple vibes atm. which is a feat coming from two men who feel TOTALLY single when you don’t see them with each other

- it’s the unwavering trust they have for each other

- he’s giving sento lore exposition/enemy intel while saying his villain speech that’s why i’m not really convinced he is evil

- oh yeah see exactly (he just proved me right 2 seconds later)

- have i mentioned that the kazusen neck caress got to me last episode

- “and besides, we don’t want to be a burden to you guys anymore” NOOOOOO BABYYYY NOT LIKE THIS 😭😭 I WANTED YOU TO LEVEL UP BUT NOT LIKE THIS

- banjo continues to be insane as always❤️ go king

- KAZUMIN😭😭😭😭😭 FUCK

- to be fair i’ll throw hands for a banjo ryuga body pillow too

- banjo being interested in sawa in a bikini is throwing me tf off 😂

- hehe…hehe lol…. can’t take grease and rogue to fights…but it’s okay if it’s him and banjo…hehe…hehe best match 🥰❤️💙 red blue magma ice hehehe…

- i think if either of them dies rn it would be really bad

- aaaah evolt is getting suspicious

- i actually like that sento pushes banjo so hard because that means he relies on banjo a lot. it’s a connection as if the other is their own person. there’s nobody else sento trusts more in the world right now other than banjo

- UWAAAAH AND BANJO RESPONDING IN KIND 😭😭😭 BEST MATCHHH ❤️💙❤️💙

- y’all think their cell service providers are eavesdropping on their calls lol

- banjo eating gentoku’s shitty food with no reaction 😭 my man’s tastebuds have been BURNED

- fuckass evacuation center sleeping quarters 😭

- BANJO WAKE UP

- sento is very wife-shaped

- YAYYYYYYY HELLO YOU GUYS

- heated drama between men..

- GENTOKU LMFAOOOOOO😭😭😭😭😭😭

- HOW DO YOU GO FROM EARLY SEASON BIG BAD TO COMIC RELIEF HE’S KILLING ME. REWATCHING BUILD IS GONNA BE SO UNSERIOUS 😭😭😭 GENTOKU

- so cute babyyyy ❤️🐇

- hmm…evolt vs. chronicle..i wonder…

- it’s saying all this shit but it can’t even do anything without them fixing its driver lol

- well we have five episodes left so..?

- no you didn’t win 😭 my sweet summer children

- aaaah. it was staged ✨ very yabai ne

- the triple baka standing at the back lmfao 😭😭 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

- well nevermind maybe he really is evil 😭 you really can’t trust estranged fathers man…

[vitanithepure]

The perfect bloodweave ending that definitely exists:

Astarion goes to Waterdeep with Gale, they get married and have a wonderful life together. While Gale secretly learns how to undo vampirism (or at least try to make him walk into the sun) Astarion studies and learn how to turn into a bat (and how to fly with the help of Tara of course). One day he succeeds and Gale is surprised to come back home (after an exhausting but fulfilling lesson with his students) to see a cute white bat flying around the living room and squeaking in excitement while Tara cheers him. Gale of course is so proud of him that he even asks if he can show it to his students (but would respect if Astarion wasn't feeling it). Their evenings consists in reading books together while holding lovingly their free hand (some books may have been acquired by Astarion via some rare rogue activities but hey, any book worth stealing if he can see Gale's face lit up with joy and exiting infodumping) or doing their hobbies in front of the chimney (Gale happily knitting and Astarion humming a tune while doing embroidery).

Depending on what Astarion wants to do when he can finally walk back into the sun, he will either come back as a magistrate (this time more careful/helpful) or open a tailor's shop and make beautiful dresses. I bet in the latter he would be hungry for any gossip he can get from his clientele and from partaking lunch (or tea time) with Morena (she adores and spoils him of course) Withers and Tara.

And obviously, they are the cool uncle and wine aunt couple of the Dekarios. You ask them to babysit your child? Get ready to have your kids begging to come back to them again soon because they had a great time.

Enjoy this sweet Bloodweave my friend 👌😌

This paints such a wholesome, beautiful picture. Oh gosh, thank you so much, it's such a gift 😭💜

They would do all these things, yes! A normal, quiet life (with an occasional book heist to liven things up a bit for Astarion!), them expanding upon Gale's wine collection, Gale treating his husband with the best home-made meals to ever exist.

Them discussing the best way to handle the vampiric condition, but Gale always making it clear Astarion's comfort and safety come first.

And gods, yes, the image of him actually mastering his bat form and flying around the tower with Tara is insanely precious! I'm sure it would be her, not Gale, that pushed him to try! 💜

And yes, Astarion returning to 'daylight society' as a tailor was planted in my brain by a series of wonderful art pieces I saw some time ago and can't let it go. It would be so good for him. Like you said, the gossip? Exquisite. Also the ability to give something of himself to so many people?

To make matching outfits for Gale and himself for all kinds of social gatherings? He would make sure they would be the talk of Waterdeep for *weeks*.

But we know Gale would support his every endeavor, so no matter what he would choose they would still be leading their best, happy lives.

[lazywriter-artist]

Pirates 40k…..need more love imo (biased)

Yo ho yo ho a pirates life for meeeee :)!!

Captain & his first Mate Ko’aan :)

(Cap is an abhuman so while not entirely to scale he’s a tall beanpole who only fits eldar clothes 😭—)

He’s a charmer ladies (and gentlemen-) and he’s single! Just gotta get through that pesky tau—

Sometimes you gotta poison a few traders to get a nice ship~!

Some crew introductions!! Parvum-5m411!!! And of course that amazing rogue trader~!!

Yapping and yammering below the cut

Captain here is a bit snappy and self conscious about his limb proportions due to being an abhuman and most people not jiving with it TwT but his first mate keeps him grounded and has his back :)

Being so large and lanky cap’ tends to stick to plundering any eldar they come across X) if the elves don’t look too close he looks about like one anywya! And by time they realize what he is he’s already absconded with the goodies (their wardrobe and maybe some food & valuables) and made his way off X)

They have a trader’s ship aforementioned, her name is the Glorybearer :3! She’s a good shop, her crew ain’t bad. They listen to the pirates well enough ^^. Most of the core crew (da pirates) are silly misfits from not just the imperium but their own homes. Trying their bests <:3

Some ‘pirate lore’ I’ve developed (as sadly pirates really aren’t that prevalent in 40k, but hey means I can do what I want forever-) is that pirates tend to form in a small system, but this means they can get caught easily like fish in a barrel, so to escape the system they’ve started in (since warp travel is very particular and needs more then an rag tag group of some guys or else you explode) they tend to have to leech off other bigger shops! So when a pirate is seeking to ‘make it big’ and not swiftly be caught by imperial authorities and die, they have a ship specially designed to latch onto/into other ships! This means, Rogue traders are most certainly their ‘friends’ >:3 this friendship tends to be giving bribes or secretly slipping under the traders radar and bribing underlings for safe passage and secrecy (with some extra goodies here and there ;3), that is if the pirate doesn’t have room to out right freely threaten and twist the trader and make the ship their own!! (uncommon as it cuts off your biggest in point but tends to mean you’re a very successful pirate!)

Newer rogue traders tends to be the most common mark to be hit as most of the time more experienced traders are aware they’re heading into pirate country there are precautions taken, but the universe is a vast place.

Many seasoned traders whose routes have brought them into contact with pirates before tend to be very aware and know what to look for before half your crew is turned to the pirates cause and doing a mutiny! But again the universe is a vast place and pirates are not the most common threat so not every trader knows why their cargo load seems to have doubled as have the ration needs!

All about experience ÙwÚ