#this was supposed to be a small amount of angst to set the scene then mostly fluff

[hoshifighting]

Salt, Sugar and Everything Us

Synopsis: What do you get when the guy who literally threw salt in your dessert during a Michelin star competition 11 years ago, waltzes up to the door of your NGO like he didn’t ruin your entire life plan back in the day?

WC: 22k

WARNINGS: jihoon and children to heal our souls <3, angst, fluff, references to professional betrayal and its lingering effects, throwing up due to emotional discomfort, moments that may bring up past trauma especially related to rejection or failure, power imbalance.

SMUT WARNINGS: explicit language, penetrative sex, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, semi-public setting, mutual desperation, body fluids (cum)

Manoir = Mansion in french.

NGO = Nonprofit organization that operates independently of any government.

Monsieur = Sir

— // December 2013 // — 

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the bright lights overhead, your heart pounding so hard you swear it’s echoing off the marble countertops. The smell of sugar and chocolate floats in the air. You glance over at Jihoon, who’s methodically working on his plate. There’s no denying the guy’s a genius, but damn, does he have to be such an ass about it?

You flash him a shy smile—just a small one. Yeah, it’s a competition, and yeah, only one of you is gonna win and run the four Michelin-star restaurant in Switzerland—the prize of the contest. But like, after this, you’ll still all be chefs. You’ll still work together. You’d all end up in the same world soon enough, working in the same circles, maybe even crossing paths in some fancy kitchen.

Nothing. He doesn’t even look your way.

Fred, the tutor-slash-guardian angel for this trip, the one who dragged you halfway across the world to this kitchen in Europe, warned you. “Jihoon’s tutor hates you,” he had said, voice low like he was telling you some big secret. “It’s ‘cause you’re the only one who can match him. Maybe even beat him.” He had laughed, but it didn’t feel like a joke.

You shake your head and focus on your dessert. Your mousse sits on the plate, the top glistening perfectly under the lights, just the right amount of shine. The swirl of raspberry coulis looks like something out of a cooking magazine. You’re proud of it. Hell, you’re damn proud of it. You step back to admire it, and even the renowned chef standing in front of you—some big-shot Michelin-star guy whose name you can’t even pronounce—gives you a smile. But not a friendly one. More like a don’t get too cocky kind of smile.

And then he tastes it.

His face shifts so fast, your stomach drops. One second, he’s blank, and the next, he’s frowning, like really frowning, staring down at the plate like it face-to-face harmed him. He spits it out, not dramatically, just like he doesn’t wanna cause a scene. The whole kitchen goes quiet. Even the sound of knives chopping stops. You feel the heat crawling up your neck, spreading across your cheeks.

This can’t be happening.

“Did you taste this before serving it?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

Your throat is dry. You swallow, shaking your head slowly. “Uh… no, I—”

“Taste it,” he snaps, holding the spoon out toward you.

Your hands shake as you take the spoon, and before you can think twice, you taste it. The second it hits your tongue, you freeze. 

Salt. Way too much salt. 

It’s fucking disgusting. 

You almost gag, but you force yourself to swallow, blinking fast as your brain tries to process what the hell just happened.

You glance over at Jihoon. He’s standing there, completely expressionless, not even pretending to be interested in the drama unfolding. But you remember. You remember when you left the mousse to rest, just for a minute, and Jihoon had passed by your station. Just a quick brush past, nothing suspicious. Nothing out of place.

Except now, all you can taste is salt.

The chef crosses his arms, still staring at you like he’s waiting for an explanation. You open your mouth, but no words come out. What are you supposed to say? That Jihoon sabotaged your dessert? That you think he did? You glance at him again, and for a split second, his eyes meet yours, and there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Just enough for you to see, before it’s gone.

“Do you have anything to say?” the chef asks, his tone icy.

You swallow again, shaking your head. “No, chef.”

This is it. The final round. Eliminatory. And you’re standing here with a plate of salted mousse because you trusted the wrong person for one damn second. You close your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a breath. You can feel the tension rolling off everyone in the room, and it takes everything in you not to scream.

You watch the chef walk over to Jihoon’s station, his expression already softening. Jihoon’s smiling now—this smug, self-assured grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t just screwed you over minutes ago. His dessert does look good, though. Annoyingly good. Neat, precise, and probably just sweet enough to charm the hell out of the chef.

The chef takes a bite, nodding as if Jihoon’s dessert just confirmed every expectation. Then, just like that, he moves on, walking away without a second glance at you.

[...]

“Y/N, you’re eliminated. Please leave your apron on the station.”

The words slam into you like a punch, and your stomach twists. You don’t even know how you manage to stay upright, every muscle screaming at you to just collapse. You hear the gasps from the others behind you—your friends, competitors, but friends nonetheless—just as shocked as you are.

“What the fuck?” someone mutters.

“There’s no way…” another voice says, incredulous.

You don’t even turn around. You can’t. Instead, you glance at Fred in the back, your lifeline in this whole chaotic mess. He’s shaking his head, this look of defeat in his eyes that he’s trying so hard to hide. Like even he knew it was over the second Jihoon pulled that bullshit with your dessert.

Fred mouths, That’s it. Let’s go. But his sad eyes tell you everything you need to know. It wasn’t fair. And he knew it. You both knew it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force yourself to walk up to the chef. Your hands are shaking, and you clench your fists, trying to keep it together as you shake his hand. He’s stiff, formal, but you can’t help but notice the faint hint of pity in his eyes.

You avoid it.

When you turn back to your station, the weight of the moment crashes down on you. The stupid fucking apron you worked so hard to wear now feels like it’s burning a hole in your chest. As you reach up to untie it, your chin starts to quiver. You fight it—God, you fight it so hard—but the tears are already pooling in your eyes. This is it. The dream…gone.

Because of salt. Fucking salt.

You fold the apron, mechanical, like maybe if you take your time, this won’t feel so real. But it is. The apron sits on the counter in front of you, this symbol of everything you’ve lost, and you walk away before anyone can see you break.

As soon as you’re backstage, the tears come. Hot and heavy, spilling down your cheeks as you crumble into the arms of one of the friends you’d made here. They’re hugging you tight, whispering things like, “It’s not fair, you didn’t deserve this,” and “You were so close.” Their voice cracks too, sad that they didn’t win either, but it’s different for them. They weren’t robbed. They were sure you had it in the bag.

And then, after what feels like hours, you spot Jihoon again, his face glowing under the lights, a damn set of keys in his hand. The keys to the restaurant. Your restaurant. It should’ve been yours.

You blink through your tears, watching as he basks in the victory. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can take this sting away. This moment is etched into your brain, and you’re certain you’ll never forget it. No matter how much time passes, nothing will make you recover from this.

Leaving Europe had felt like defeat. It wasn’t just a loss on some cooking show—it was like watching a dream you’d nurtured since you were a kid slowly crumple and fade. Back then, you were so young, so full of ambition that your heart couldn’t even contain it all. Every time you thought of that moment, standing in that bright, sterile kitchen as Jihoon held those damn restaurant keys, it was like hearing your inner child sobbing hurtfully inside your eardrums. And that hurt more than you ever expected.

For the longest time, it felt like nothing could fill the void that salty mousse had left behind.

— // A decade later // — 

But life has this weird way of surprising you when you least expect it. Turns out, there were plans far better than Michelin stars waiting for you. Plans you never even imagined, but ones that would heal you in ways a fancy restaurant never could.

It’s the little hands tugging at your apron now that remind you of just how far you’ve come. You’re not standing in some high-end kitchen with a sous-chef barking orders at you, or sweating over the chance to impress another judge. No, you’re standing in a small room, the walls plastered with drawings and messy crayon sketches of cupcakes, pizza slices, and lopsided bowls of spaghetti. Your apron’s a little stained, flour dusting the front of it, but you couldn’t care less.

“Why do you mix it like that?” A curious voice pipes up from below, and you glance down to find a pair of wide, sparkling eyes staring up at you. The flour and eggs in the bowl swirl together under your whisk, creating a soft, smooth batter. The kid—couldn’t be more than six—watches your hands like you’re performing magic.

“Because that’s how you make it fluffy,” you say, smiling as they nod, fascinated. A moment later, you feel tiny arms wrap around your leg, a small hug that makes your heart swell in ways that no standing ovation ever could. It’s innocent, pure, like they’re just happy to be near you, to learn from you.

Another voice chimes in, “How do you know when it’s ready?”

You chuckle, wiping a bit of flour from your forehead with your wrist. “You just know. It feels right.”

They tilt their head, brow furrowing like you’ve just told them some impossible riddle. You laugh softly and let them feel the batter between their fingers, watch as they giggle, amazed at how something so simple can be so right. There’s something about these moments, the curiosity in their eyes, the way they look at you with trust, like you’re some kind of culinary wizard. You weren’t Jihoon with his restaurant keys, and honestly, that’s never been more okay.

Because in these moments, surrounded by kids full of wonder, asking question after question, you realize that no Michelin star could pay for this feeling. There’s a joy here that runs deeper than prestige or recognition. A joy that healed something broken in you.

Your inner child, the one who cried in that cold European kitchen all those years ago, quieted here. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was laughing, learning how to mix flour with eggs, feeling the batter with her hands, like it was something new and wonderful. All those tears you shed for a dream that wasn’t meant for you? They were worth it, because they brought you here—to this.

It’s funny, really. Back then, you thought that only a shining career could fill the emptiness left behind by that loss. But here you are, standing in a room full of kids who look up to you like you’re a hero. And that? That’s priceless.

You’d started this nonprofit, an NGO for kids who didn’t have much, but who had the biggest imaginations you’d ever seen. You taught them to cook, sure, but it wasn’t just about food. It was about creating something with their hands, feeling proud of themselves, and finding a space to be themselves in a world that often made them feel small. Just like how you’d once felt—small, unworthy, like a failure. But now, every smile, every curious question they asked, it stitched up another tear in your heart.

It’s poetic, really. You thought you’d heal by chasing after the dream that slipped through your fingers in that European kitchen. But instead, you found healing in the hands of children, in their endless curiosity, in the way they saw the world full of possibilities. And in doing so, you healed the child inside of you—the one who had dreamed big but didn’t know how to handle disappointment when the dream didn’t come true.

Good things, they say, come to those who wait. And yeah, after everything you’d been through, you could finally see it—really see it. Your name, once tied to that one bitter loss back in 2013, now stood on its own, bold and bright in the culinary world. You weren’t just the kid who lost in Europe anymore. You were someone people sought after, someone who made a difference. The buzz around your NGO had grown so much that, by now, it felt like a new interview request hit your inbox every other day.

It was the fifth time this week you sat down for one.

"Tell us about your journey,” the interviewer smiled, setting the recorder between you both like they were about to hear some untold story. But by now, the story of your journey had become almost second nature. You leaned back in your chair, looking around the space—the walls adorned with photos of smiling kids, famous chefs who had come through your doors, all here to support the cause. This place, this NGO, had become something bigger than you ever imagined.

“Well," you started, a small smile tugging at your lips, “I guess it started with failure.”

That’s how you always began. Not shying away from what happened all those years ago but embracing it, wearing it like a badge of honor. Because, hell, if it hadn’t been for that loss, none of this would exist. Not the kitchen full of kids eager to learn. Not the world-class chefs flying in from every corner of the globe to share their wisdom with them. And certainly not the donations that had been pouring in, enough to keep this place thriving for years.

You ran a hand through your hair, glancing at a nearby photo. It was of you and a group of kids, all in their mini hats, standing next to one of the chefs from some Michelin-starred restaurant. They’d come to volunteer for a day, to give these kids a taste of their future—what could be theirs if they kept going.

“Back then, when I lost, I thought it was the end. But now…” You paused, looking around at the faces of the kids, at the excitement in their eyes as they tried to get their dough just right or figure out the balance between sweet and savory. “Now, I can’t imagine it going any other way. This is where I was meant to be.”

The interviewer nodded, clearly trying to keep up, but you could tell they hadn’t expected the story to take this turn. They probably thought you’d talk about how the loss fueled some revenge arc, a rise to the top, something a bit more dramatic. But the truth? The truth was softer than that, more human.

At this point, most of the world’s top chefs had been here at some point or another. Either they’d come to run a class, spend a day with the kids, or drop by to donate supplies. There was something magical about seeing their eyes light up when they walked through the doors, like they were stepping back into the beginning of their own journey.

“That’s amazing,” the interviewer said, scribbling something down. “You’ve had some huge names come here. What’s it like working alongside these big chefs now?”

You shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s surreal sometimes. You know, these are people I looked up to, the same ones I’d watch on TV or read about when I was younger, just starting out. And now they’re here, in my kitchen, helping my kids.”

[...]

You were just finishing up, wiping your hands on the towel after the last batch of cookies came out of the oven, when you saw Fred practically running into the kitchen. The grin on his face said it all before he even opened his mouth.

“Fifty grand!” he shouted, stopping just short of knocking over a jar of flour in his excitement.

“Fifty what?” you blinked, thinking you must’ve misheard. Fifty thousand dollars? That was… huge. Massive. Your mind raced, trying to figure out how that could even be possible.

“Yep,” Fred beamed, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Just got the news from the accountant. Some company called Lee Gastronomy—never heard of ‘em—but they sent the check and a little note saying they’re excited to support the house. Something about moving back to town soon and wanting to visit.”

You felt your heart race as you tugged your apron off, suddenly needing to see the paperwork for yourself. Fifty thousand dollars? That was enough to cover months of supplies, repairs, upgrades—hell, you could finally get that new oven you’d been dreaming about for the kitchen. “Lee?” you frowned, trying to jog your memory. “I don’t know any Lee.”

Fred shrugged, still grinning. “Me either. But who cares, right? We just got fifty grand!”

Even though the number hung in the air like a golden ticket, something felt strange. You didn’t know any Lee. You’d worked in this field long enough to know all the big players—chefs, donors, restaurant owners, food critics—but no one named Lee had ever crossed your path.

The next few days passed, Fred had started spreading the word about the donation, and suddenly, you found yourself knee-deep in logistics. Checking with the accountant, verifying the donation, making sure everything was legit. And yeah, it was. The company’s registration number checked out, the money had cleared, and everything seemed on the up and up. But that name… Lee Gastronomy. It still didn’t ring any bells.

Every time you mentioned it to someone—colleagues, friends, even the chefs who had been visiting the voluntary organization—they’d shake their heads too. No one had ever heard of them. You tried not to dwell on it too much; after all, it was a lot of money, and you had kids to take care of, projects to fund, and kitchens to keep running.

But then, more donations started rolling in.

First, another $10,000 from a small local bakery, then $15,000 from a chef’s association you’d partnered with in the past. Then $25,000 from an anonymous donor who didn’t leave any contact information—just a note saying they loved what you were doing and wanted to help. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and suddenly, people everywhere wanted to support your cause.

Each time, the donations brought a wave of gratitude and hope. The organization was growing faster than you’d ever imagined, and the possibilities felt endless. You could expand the programs, bring in more kids, offer more hands-on experiences with top chefs. And you did just that. You started upgrading the kitchen, organizing new field trips for the kids, even partnering with local schools to expand the reach of your work.

But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind never quite went away.

“Fred,” you said one afternoon as you both sat in the office, going over the latest set of donations, “Do you think it’s weird that all this is happening right after Lee Gastronomy showed up?”

Fred paused, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, maybe a little? But honestly, I just think word is spreading. People are seeing what we’re doing, and they want to help.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, but your gut told you there was more to it.

The next week, another $30,000 came in. The donation slip was clean, but again, no name. No big donor stepping out of the shadows to claim credit for it. Just money pouring into your NGO like it was destined for you, and yet, you couldn’t figure out why it was all happening now.

[...]

The early morning air was cool as you bent down, adjusting the vases of flowers in front of the organization beautiful entrance. The kids wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and this was your moment of calm. A moment to breathe before the chaos of the day began. Today, your mind was occupied with the meeting you’d been anticipating for weeks.

Lee Gastronomy.

Whoever this mysterious benefactor was, they were finally coming to visit. You’d replayed the moment in your head a hundred times—meeting them, shaking their hand, expressing your endless gratitude. You wanted to make a good impression, show them what their generous donations had been doing. You straightened up, brushing off your pants, when the sound of footsteps on the pavement caught your attention. Two pairs of Gucci shoes appeared in your view, black leather, polished, expensive. The kind of shoes that had power written all over them.

You lifted your head, the best smile already set on your face. "Oh, you must be Lee! I—" The words stuck in your throat.

The face staring back at you wasn’t some stranger. It was him.

Jihoon. Lee? Lee Jihoon?

Your breath tied, and for a second, everything around you disappeared. It was like time rewound itself to that kitchen in Europe, to the sharp look in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitched into that subtle, knowing smirk. He was older now, more mature. His face had lost some of its softness, replaced with sharper angles, and yet… the eyes. You’d never forget those eyes. You couldn’t.

“Jihoon?” You muttered, like saying his name would break the reality in front of you.

Jihoon’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Fred, who had been standing beside you, froze. You could feel his tension, the silent question hanging in the air. He had no idea how you’d react. Hell, you didn’t even know how you’d react.

Everything came flooding back.

The way Jihoon had smirked as you stood there, staring down at your ruined dessert in disbelief. The way his fingers had curled around the restaurant’s keys, how he’d accepted his victory without so much as a glance your way. That little mole near his eye, the one you’d stared at for hours during the competition, watching it crinkle when he frowned or smiled—always at your expense.

You felt it then. The taste. That same, cursed taste of salt rising in the back of your throat. Your body tensed, memories crashing into you with such force it made you dizzy. You felt sick. So, so sick, that you feel like you are about to—

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were rushing inside the house, pushing past Fred, not even sparing a glance back at Jihoon. The nausea was enormous, the weight of the past pulling at your gut, twisting it into knots. You barely made it to the bathroom, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet, just in time for everything to spill out of you.

Fred was right behind you, voice panicked. “Y/N! Hey, hey, it's okay, I’m here.” He knelt beside you, gently pulling your hair back, trying to keep you steady as your body trembled.

You could hear the distant sound of Jihoon’s shoes shifting in the doorway. He hadn’t followed you in. He didn’t move. He just stood there. Watching.

Jihoon stood, frozen at the threshold, his sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as Fred’s frantic voice echoed from inside. His assistant, standing beside him, looked equally stunned.

Were you this disgusted by him? To the point of throwing up? Jihoon wondered. He didn’t speak. He didn’t call out to you. Instead, he just stared at the open door, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for something but couldn’t figure out what. The sound of you retching filled the air, and for a moment, he felt it too—a strange, bitter taste creeping up the back of his own throat.

This wasn’t how he imagined seeing you again.

Fred’s voice was soft behind you, concern threaded through his words. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

You shook your head, still gripping the edge of the sink like it could anchor you back to reality. “No. Just... give me a few minutes.”

He didn’t argue. You heard his footsteps fade as he hurried to welcome Jihoon and his assistant. You stayed there for another few seconds, staring at your own reflection. Your face had fallen so fast, drained of all that confidence you’d tried to wear this morning. You brushed your teeth with shaky hands, telling yourself to calm down, to just be serene.

Just get through this. You took a deep breath and headed to the waiting room.

Jihoon and his assistant were seated, quiet, as if they hadn’t said much since Fred greeted them. You couldn’t bring yourself to shake his hand, so you bowed politely instead, keeping your hands clasped behind your back. You felt Jihoon’s eyes on you, but you didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. 

His assistant, a bright-eyed young man who didn’t seem to sense the tension in the air, smiled warmly. “It’s such an honor to finally meet you in person. Jihoon has told me a lot about the great work you're doing here,” he said, looking genuinely impressed.

You forced a smile, keeping your tone professional. “Thank you. We’re really grateful for all the donations, it’s made a huge difference. The kids... they’ve benefited so much.”

Jihoon’s assistant continued, eyes flicking between you and Fred, clearly excited to be there. “And it’s amazing how far you’ve come since your days in the competition. It must’ve been so tough, especially considering how—”

The room froze. You felt Fred tense beside you, his polite smile flickering, your breath catching in your throat. Even Jihoon’s expression shifted, his face hardening as he quickly looked away, avoiding your gaze entirely.

His assistant, oblivious, continued. “I mean, you two were so competitive back then, huh? And to think, all of this came from that one event—”

Fred cleared his throat sharply, cutting him off, but the damage was already done, his assistant clearly didn't know how Jihoon won. How much does he know? Does he even realize what he’s saying?

“Ah, well—” Fred began.

Jihoon cut him off, voice tight and low. “It’s… a long story.”

Before anyone could say more, the sound of laughter and tiny footsteps echoed down the hallway, saving you from the suffocating silence. The children had arrived.

Fred turned to greet them, and you stepped aside, watching as they rushed into the room, immediately diffusing the tension. They swarmed around you, bright-eyed and smiling, some of the little ones immediately latching onto your legs, asking if they could help in the kitchen today. You smiled softly, crouching down to ruffle their hair.

But then, some of them turned their attention to Jihoon.

Two of the kids, a boy and a girl, who couldn’t have been older than five, ran straight for him, hugging his legs like they’d known him forever. Jihoon stiffened at first, unsure how to respond, but the shock quickly melted as he crouched down, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. You noticed how different it looked from the smirk that used to haunt you.

"Who’s this?" one of the kids asked, looking up at Jihoon with wide, curious eyes.

You exhaled softly, your hands clenching and unclenching behind your back as you felt Fred’s eyes on you. You forced yourself to speak, turning to the kids, your voice softening, sweeter for them. “He’s a really good chef,” you explained, keeping it simple. “He has a biiiig restaurant in Switzerland.”

The younger ones gasped in awe, their faces lighting up as they hugged him tighter. "Wooooow," one of them breathed, eyes wide. “Is Switzerland far?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, it’s pretty far,” you said with a small scoff. It was cute how they clung to him without knowing anything about the man he was. How they immediately trusted him just because you said he was a chef, because in their world, chefs were superheroes who made magic with food.

But you didn’t miss the sound of the older kids behind you. Some of the pre-teens had recognized him. Their whispers were loud enough for you to catch, little gasps of “That’s Jihoon!” and “Oh my god, isn’t he, like, super famous?”

One of the girls, barely fourteen, looked at you with shining eyes. “You know Jihoon? Like, Jihoon Jihoon?”

You managed a nod, the tight smile still on your lips. “Yeah, I know him.”

Jihoon, standing there with the kids hugging him, stayed silent, his eyes drifting to you every now and then but never lasting. He looked uncomfortable. Maybe even lost. You wondered if he’d thought about this moment before—if he’d imagined what it would be like to see you again after all these years. Or if, like you, he hadn’t been ready at all.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “Alright, kids, let’s give our guest some space,” you said gently, guiding them away from Jihoon’s legs. “We’ve got a lot of work to do today, and I’m sure Chef Jihoon is going to want to take a look around.”

The younger ones reluctantly let go, giggling as they scampered off to join their friends. 

You smiled softly when you saw Jihoon’s assistant already in the thick of it, playing with the kids like he'd been there for weeks. His laughter mixed with theirs, easy and carefree. 

But then you turned, eyes flicking to Jihoon, who was still standing awkwardly at the edge of the room, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. You called his name quietly, over your shoulder, “Jihoon, come on.”

He dawdled but followed. As he walked toward you, you tied the apron behind your back like you had eyes on your hands, the kids gathering around the kitchen counter, their eyes wide with interest. Jihoon stayed a few steps behind, unsure of how to approach this situation—teaching kids was never something he'd done. Hell, it wasn’t even in his plans for the day.

But he remembered being the kid, the one sitting in front of a chef, hungry for knowledge and desperate to learn everything.

You leaned against the counter, your arms crossed as you gave him a sideways glance. “Do you guys know what Chef Jihoon is going to teach us today?”

The kids chorused a loud, excited “Noooo!” bouncing on their heels.

You turned fully to him, holding his gaze. He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like the spotlight was burning on him.

“I’ll let Chef Jihoon tell you then,” you said, challenging, like you were throwing him into the deep end on purpose. You wanted to see him squirm, maybe just a little.

Jihoon glanced at the eager faces in front of him, then back to you. His throat felt dry as he tried to come up with something to say, but for a second, all he could hear was the hum of his own nerves. The last time he had been in a kitchen like this, it wasn’t full of small hands and bright eyes—it was full of pressure, competition, and an entirely different energy.

But he wasn’t about to let you see him hesitate. He cleared his throat and stepped up to the counter, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Well,” he started, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I think today... we’ll be learning how to make something really special. Something I first learned when I was just starting out.”

He shot a quick look at you, and you could tell from the flicker in his eyes that he was stepping back into habitat. You smirked, leaning back against the counter as he continued.

“Let's make risotto… How's that sound?”

​​The kids’ faces immediately dropped, little frowns forming as they shook their heads. “We already know that one!” one of them piped up, crossing his arms, indignant. “Chef Y/N taught us already!”

You couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped, filling the room, and Jihoon shot you a sidelong look, his own lips twitching like he was fighting not to falter. Of course they already knew risotto. You’d practically burned through every recipe in the book with them.

Jihoon looked at the kids again, genuinely surprised. “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “You already know how to make risotto?”

They nodded, several of them bouncing with pride. “Chef Y/N is really good!” a little girl said.

Jihoon’s expression softened, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes as he took it in. He took a breath, thinking, before a sudden idea sparked across his face. “Alright, then. What about soufflé?”

The kids’ eyes widened, jaws dropping as they exchanged glances. “A soufflé?” one of the older kids asked, almost disbelieving. “Like the one in movies?”

Jihoon nodded, his face a little smug. “Yeah. It’s tricky, but I think you guys are up for it.”

One of the kids tugged at your sleeve, whispering, “Chef Y/N, do you think we can really make soufflés?”

You smiled, glancing at Jihoon. “With a chef like Jihoon teaching you? I think you can do anything.”

You and Jihoon began laying out the ingredients on the counter. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs—every item carefully arranged in neat little bowls. Then, stepping back, you let the kids gather around as Jihoon took his place at the front, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You’re not going to help me?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall behind the children. “Nope. I’m here to learn too.”

He let out a scoff, but his eyes were amused. Reaching for a whisk, Jihoon’s fingers stopped as he noticed the brightly-colored utensils on the countertop��handles painted in cheerful blues, yellows, and pinks, completely different from the pristine silver ones he’d grown so used to in the rigid, professional kitchens. 

His brow twitched, a bit thrown off, but he picked up a neon pink whisk, holding it up almost in disbelief before he finally began mixing, putting on the best show of professionalism he could manage with a grin sneaking in.

The kids were entranced as he worked. He answered each of their questions, even the simple ones—What’s this do? Why are eggs so runny? Is soufflé really magic? He gave patient answers, a spark in his eyes as he watched their faces light up with each response.

When he was done, a perfect, puffy soufflé stood in the middle of the counter. Golden, light, and exactly what you’d expect from someone with his skill. The kids were practically bouncing in excitement.

“Alright, your turn,” Jihoon said, stepping back and motioning for them to take over.

You paired up with a small boy, who looked completely intimidated by the fluffy soufflé sitting next to him. “I can’t make it like that,” he whispered to you.

You knelt down next to him, helping him break the eggs with careful hands, showing him how to separate the whites, then guiding his little hand as he whisked. “Doesn’t matter if it’s perfect,” you told him with a warm smile. “Just give it your best shot.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon crouched down beside a little girl who was struggling to mix the eggs. Her arm had started to tremble, the bowl wobbling in her hands.

“Here, I’ll help you,” he said, holding the bowl steady with one hand while he took the whisk with the other. “Let’s mix it together.”

The smile that spread across Jihoon’s face as he watched her efforts, a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in years, softened something in—No. Hell no. Back to the recipe.

When the kids finally placed their soufflés in the oven, the results were… varied. Some soufflés rose tall and proud, while others sagged or deflated at the edges. One came out a bit lopsided, and another had been forgotten for a moment, the top a little browned, but that didn’t matter. They each wore their own version of pride on their faces, and you couldn’t help but feel it too.

Jihoon looked at the table, and shook his head, smiling. “They’re perfect,” he murmured, glancing at the children with an approval nod. 

As the kids eagerly dug into their soufflés, one of the smaller boys took a big spoonful, his eyes lighting up at first. But then his face scrunched, his little nose wrinkling as he swallowed. He put his spoon down, looking directly at you with a distressed expression.

“Did I… put salt instead of sugar?” His lip started to tremble as he looked between you and Jihoon, mortified.

You froze. But before you could say anything, Jihoon, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, looked up, his eyes darting from the kid’s teary face to your stiff expression. The moment seemed to snap him to life, and he quickly sprang forward, kneeling down beside the boy, hands shaking in a mad rush.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Jihoon said. He took the boy’s tiny hand in his. “There are tons of salty soufflés! I actually make one all the time. In my restaurant, it’s super fancy, with cheese and herbs, just like this one.”

The boy looked up, sniffling, his tears slowing a little. “Really? There’s… supposed to be salt?”

Jihoon nodded enthusiastically, glancing back at you as if asking for backup. “Absolutely! Chef Y/N could tell you all about it.” He shot you a look, almost saying like: What do I do now?

Taking a shaky breath, you knelt down beside the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s a great first try.” You ruffled his hair, seeing him perk up a bit.

Jihoon took a spoonful of the soufflé and tasted it, giving an exaggerated nodl. “Mm! It's really good!” He winked at the boy, who finally cracked a shy smile. 

You watched with a small smile as each kid left with a bit of your heart in tow, feeling the echo of their laughter around you even as the room began to empty.

Fred lingered by the door, chatting with Jihoon’s assistant, while you and Jihoon moved to the side, staying silent, as if words would disturb whatever fragile peace had been built between you during the day. It felt strange, standing there beside him without the buffer of the kids to fill in the pauses.

Jihoon broke the silence first, clearing his throat softly. “I wanted to talk to you… I think my team and I would really love to support your organization long-term… Make it official, if you’d be interested. We could even bring some of the chefs, host classes, give the kids more to look forward to.”

“I appreciate the donation,” you began carefully measured. “I really do. But I need to be honest, Jihoon. I don’t want this house to lose what makes it special, what makes it ours. I don’t want it to turn into some… shiny project to impress donors or pull in crowds. It’s supposed to feel like us, like the kids. Not some big production.”

After a pause, he let out a soft hum, tilting his head slightly. “And what’s wrong with improving things? Giving the kids access to better resources, better… training?”

There it was—his tone wasn’t outright disdainful or insulting, but there was a bite to it, something faintly snobbish that made your stomach churn. You could feel Fred tense slightly beside you, the way his shoulders shifted like he wanted to step in but wasn’t sure if he should. Jihoon’s assistant, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by his boss’s words.

You scoffed. “Better training?” you repeated, folding your arms. “Is that what you think this is about? You think just because this isn’t the fancy kitchen you grew up in—or whatever perfect, silver-lined school taught you—you have the right to waltz in here and act like this isn’t good enough?”

Jihoon opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak. The floodgates were open now, the words spilling out of you like they’d been waiting years. “I learned to cook in a place like this,” you said firmly, jabbing a finger toward the counters, the bright utensils, the slightly battered cutting boards. “And guess what? It brought me to the same competition as you. So don’t stand there and act like these kids need some ‘upgrade’ to be worthy of your world.” 

Fred's face went pale as he looked at you.

“You’re too busy chasing Michelin stars to see what really makes cooking special.” You spat.

Jihoon’s assistant visibly winced, and Fred looked at you with wide eyess. 

Jihoon, though, didn’t react right away. He just stood there, his hands clenching slightly at his sides. “Is that what you think? That I came here just to… what? Smudge this in your face?”

It wasn’t until Fred gently touched your elbow that you realized how tense you were, your hands clenched your crossed arms. You took a breath.

“I don’t know why you came here,” you admitted finally, your voice softer now but no less firm. “But if you’re here to help, then help. Don’t stand there and tell me what this place is lacking. Because it’s got something no five-star kitchen could ever give you.”

He just nodded once. His assistant looked like he wanted to crawl into the floor, and Fred let out a low sigh, clearly debating whether to step in again.

Finally, Jihoon spoke, “I’m not here to tear this place down,” he said. “But if I’m going to help, I need to know how. You think I don’t understand what makes this place special? Fine. Show me then.”

Fred cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping in to break the silence. “Maybe we should, uh, pick this up another day?” he suggested, glancing between you and Jihoon. Neither of you responded. Enough for now.

You watched Jihoon step into the car, the heavy door closing with a muffled thud. From the front window, you could see him lean back against the seat, his face partially obscured by the tinted glass. His assistant was halfway to the car when he stopped, paused mid-step, and turned back toward you.He turned slow, really slow, like he’d been debating this for a while and finally made up his mind.

You raised an eyebrow as he approached, his blond hair catching the light “Chef Y/N,” he began, his voice sweet, with a thick French accent. His hands reached out to clasp yours—oddly personal. “I hope you’ll excuse me for interrupting, but… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything today.”

His words took you off guard, and your brow furrowed slightly. 

He sighed, the kind of long, exasperated exhale that suggested he’d had this conversation—or at least a version of it—with Jihoon before.

“Monsieur Lee,” he said carefully, “was truly excited to visit your NGO. It has been all he talks about since we first began planning this trip. But, you know him… he doesn’t always measure his words. He means well, but he can come off as—how do you say it?—impolite.”

You huffed a small, mirthless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

The assistant smiled faintly, “I hope you don’t let it affect your view of his intentions. He genuinely respects what you have built here. I’ll make sure to put some sense into his head, I promise. But please, don’t forget about our offer. It’s a good one, and I think… deep down, Monsieur Lee truly believes in what you’re doing here. Even if he doesn’t always know how to say it.”

You held his gaze, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity, but found none. He was genuine, you could tell. After a moment, you gave his hands a light squeeze and nodded. “I’ll think about it,” you said softly. “But this place… it’s not just about the offer. It’s personal to me. If I do decide to work with you all, it has to be on my terms.”

“Of course!” he said immediately, his smile growing. “And that is as it should be. Thank you for considering it.”

With that, he let go of your hands and returned to the car, leaving you standing there in the fading light. Jihoon didn’t look up as the car pulled away, while you looked until it disappeared down the road.

The days after Jihoon’s visit were surprisingly quiet, almost too quiet. You’d half-expected a deluge of follow-ups or more awkward exchanges, but instead, you found yourself with space to think. The children, as always, were a welcome distraction. They filled the kitchen with their laughter and the occasional misstep, their joy a constant reminder of why you’d built this house in the first place.

Still, Jihoon lingered in the back of your mind. His presence at the NGO had stirred up so many old emotions. Every time you thought about his assistant’s words, you felt a strange knot of uncertainty in your chest. Was it possible that Jihoon’s intentions weren’t as cold as they’d seemed? Could you trust him to help without losing the heart of what you’d created?

One evening, Fred found you sitting at your desk, staring blankly at a stack of donation forms. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

You shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About Jihoon?”

You shot him a look, and he grinned. “Come on,” he said. “You’ve been quiet since he left. I can tell he got under your skin.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “It’s just… complicated. He said some things that really pissed me off, but his assistant made a good point. I don’t know, Fred. I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

Fred crossed his arms, considering your words. “Look, I don’t know Jihoon like you do. But from what I’ve seen, he’s not the same guy he was back then. Maybe give him a chance to prove that.”

A week later, Jihoon showed up again, this time without his assistant. You spotted him standing awkwardly at the front gate, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked out of place, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Back so soon?” you called out, walking toward him.

He turned, his eyes meeting yours. “I wanted to talk. Without the… entourage.”

You raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to follow you inside. The two of you sat in the empty kitchen, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Jihoon placed the bag on the counter and pulled out a small box. “I brought something for the kids,” he said, opening it to reveal a set of beautifully crafted utensils, each one colorful and child-sized.

You blinked in surprise, your defenses momentarily lowering. “These are… amazing.”

“I thought they might like them,” he said, his voice quieter now. “And I thought maybe I could help more, if you’ll let me.”

You hesitated, studying his expression. There was no trace of the condescension you’d seen before.

[...]

The sound of running water filled the quiet kitchen, punctuated by the clink of dishes being handed off between you and Jihoon. The day had been long, the kind of long that left you too tired to think straight but restless enough to keep moving. You focused on scrubbing the edges of a baking dish, the suds thick around your fingers, and handed it to Jihoon without a glance. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, pausing more than he should. You pulled back instinctively, grabbing the next plate before he could say anything.

Jihoon sighed, turning toward the wide window above the sink. The last light of the day was fading, casting a soft orange glow over the room. He dried the dish slowly, as if trying to draw out the moment. 

“You’ll never forgive me, will you?”

The question stopped you in your tracks. You placed the plate you were washing back into the sink and leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter. The bubbles clung to your hands, foam dripping down to the marble. You stared at the suds for a moment, your mind swirling, before you turned your head slightly toward him.

“I never heard a sorry leave your mouth, Jihoon.” Your gaze shifted to the window, avoiding his reflection.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” he admitted. “I thought… what’s the point? Saying sorry wouldn’t change anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You thought what? You think you can just show up here, give donations, play nice with the kids, and everything gets wonderful well?”

Jihoon’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” You crossed your arms, still feeling the slickness of the detergent on your skin. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you trying to fix something without actually addressing the damage you caused.”

You opened your mouth to continur, but he cut you off. “What am I supposed to do, huh? Go back in time? Undo it? All I can do is try to make up for it now, and if that’s not good enough for you, then tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

The frustration in his voice caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it show. “You don’t get to decide how or when I forgive you, Jihoon. That’s not how this works. And for the record, no, you can’t undo it. You can’t take back the way you made me feel that day.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t look away. “I know. I know I can’t.”

You shook your head. “And yet here you are, acting like showing up and playing nice will fix it all. Like you can just… sweep it under the rug.”

“I’m not trying to sweep it under the rug. I’m trying to be better. To show you that I’ve changed.”

You go back to the dishes. The water ran over your hands as you scrubbed a stubborn stain on the bottom of a pot, the bubbles swirling down the drain. Jihoon stood beside you, methodically drying the dishes and placing them on the counter without a word.

But something twisted in your gut, you swallowed hard, the weight of the past pressing on your chest. Your voice, when it finally came out, was quiet, and more fragile than you wanted to sound.

“Why the salt?”

Jihoon froze mid-motion, the towel in his hands slipping slightly. You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed on the pot as if it held all the answers you’d been seeking.

“Why did you do this to me Jihoon?”

He exhaled shakily, his knuckles white as he gripped the counter. It wasn’t just your question—it was the way you’d asked, like a small, innocent version of yourself had reached through the years to speak, like spiritually, your inner child canalized her voice to his ears. Jihoon felt it deep in his chest, an ache that mirrored yours. It was as though the girl you’d been when you first started chasing this dream was standing there, demanding an explanation he’d never given. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“I…” he started but faltered, running a hand through his hair, his voice dropped. “I didn’t… mean for it to be like that.”

You set the pot down, water dripping from your hands as you turned to him. Your eyes searched his face, looking for something—remorse, understanding, anything. “Then why? Why did you do it? Was it just… some sick joke to you?” Your voice wavered, and you blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Do you know what that did to me? What it felt like to watch—” You stopped, your words catching in your throat.

Jihoon closed his eyes, pressing his palms flat against the counter as if steadying himself. He felt sick, the kind of sickness that sat heavy in his chest and made it hard to breathe. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t my idea,” he said finally, his voice strained.

You frowned, your confusion evident. “What do you mean it wasn’t your idea?”

He turned to you then, his expression torn, guilt scripted all over his face. “It was my tutor’s idea,” he admitted, his words tumbling out like they’d been locked up for too long. “He… he told me to do it. Said it would make me stand out, give me an edge. He thought sabotaging someone else would make me look stronger. And I was—” He broke off, running a hand over his face. “I was stupid enough to listen.”

Your stomach churned, the twist in your gut tightening. “Your tutor?” you repeated, the disbelief clear in your voice.

Jihoon nodded, his eyes, pained. “He was more than just a tutor. He became my business partner after the competition. He was the one who pushed me toward the restaurant, who built me up to be this… this thing I didn’t even recognize anymore.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now…I can’t stand him. He’s why I’m back here. I couldn’t take it anymore. The way he runs things, the way he manipulates people—it was eating me alive.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. “So you’re saying… you did it because he told you to?”

“Yes.. But I chose to do it. I could’ve said no. I should’ve said no. I was just so… desperate to prove myself, to win, to be the best.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And I didn’t care who I hurt along the way.”

The importance of his confession lolled in the air. You turned your back to the sink. “I kept asking myself, What did I do wrong? And all the while, it was you.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how weak you sounded.

“I know, I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. Seeing you crying that day… it still haunts me. And when I saw you throw up when I came here, I realized just how deeply I’d hurt you. I…” He trailed off, his eyes glistening. “I can’t undo it. I know I can’t. But I’m trying to make it right. I just want you to know… I’m sorry. For everything. And I’ll keep saying it until it means something.”

“So…” you started, leaning back against the counter as you dried your hands on a towel. “You left a Michelin-starred restaurant behind? All of it?”

Jihoon nodded, like a weight had been partially lifted.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And now that you don’t have it, you want this to be yours too? The house?”

He let out a scoff, but it wasn’t sharp like before, it was straight funny. “You could’ve had both,” he countered, tilting his head. “A Michelin-starred restaurant and this. I could never.”

You couldn’t help but hold back a small smile, shaking your head. 

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a small, genuine smile. Then he extended his hand, palm open, toward you. “Come on,” he said softly.

You glanced at his hand, then back at his face, narrowing your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Offering a truce,” he replied. “Come on. You can’t make me stand here forever.”

For a second, you hesitated, looking at his hand again. With a resigned sigh, you dried your hands fully, reaching out to take his. Your grip was firm.

But you couldn’t help it. “You sure you want to start here? With that hair?” You gestured to his slightly mussed locks, which looked more chaotic than usual after hours in the kitchen. “You’ve been running from Michelin stars, but your hair looks like it’s been running from a comb.”

Jihoon froze for a second, then let out a genuine laugh, his head tilting back slightly. It was the first time you’d heard it that day, and it made something inside you soften.

“Don’t think the kids haven’t noticed. One of them asked if you were cosplaying as a hedgehog earlier.”

Jihoon smiled wide, almost beaming, though he tried to downplay it by scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. I get it. Point taken. But you know, I think they like me.”

“They tolerate you,” you corrected, smirking. “Big difference. You’re still on trial here, Jihoon.”

He pressed his free hand dramatically to his chest. “Tolerate me? That hurts, Y/N. I thought I had charm.”

“You’ve got something,” you teased, releasing his hand to grab another dish towel. “I’ll let you know what it is once I figure it out.”

Jihoon leaned against the counter, his eyes softening as he watched you. “You’ll let me know, huh? That sounds fair.”

Jihoon’s attempts to help with the house didn’t feel like an intrusion anymore.

A few days later, Jihoon was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a group of kids, trying to teach them a few basic culinary techniques. His patience was better than you’d expected, though he still had moments where he looked at you like: How do you deal with this every day?

“Chef Jihoon, is this how you hold the whisk?” one of the smaller kids asked, holding it in a fist like a sword.

“No, not unless you’re planning to fight your eggs,” Jihoon replied, gently adjusting the child’s grip. “Like this. Light, but firm.”

You stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. Fred sidled up beside you, nodding toward Jihoon. “He’s really trying, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He is.”

As the session wrapped up, Jihoon caught your eye from across the room. He raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking for your approval. You pretended to consider, then gave a small nod. His lips twitched upward, satisfied.

Jihoon had never considered himself great with kids.

He wasn’t the type of uncle who could entertain nieces and nephews for hours without breaking a sweat, like his friend Seungkwan. Yet, here he was, surrounded by giggling children who hung on his every word—and he had to admit, it wasn’t as terrifying as he’d thought. 

He’d found himself loving this. The chaos, the noise, the silly little moments. The kids, with their endless energy and bright smiles, were teaching him things he never thought he would learn. They were curing him in ways he never imagined.

Jihoon couldn’t hide the change in his mood when the kids started leaving for the day. They’d crowded around the door, each of them getting picked up by their parents, giving their final hugs, running out of the kitchen, their little hands waving goodbye. Jihoon stood in the doorway, watching them, his gaze soft. He didn’t admit it out loud, but there was something about seeing the kids leave that made him feel a little emptier inside. Maybe it was because he could feel the bond forming between them even though they’d only spent a short time together.

“Are you really sulking now?” you asked, walking past him to grab the last dish from the counter.

He didn’t turn around, but you could see the slight pout on his lips. “No,” he mumbled, hands stuffed in the pockets of his apron. “I just... I’m not used to saying goodbye. Even if I’m going to see them again tomorrow.”

You chuckled, watching him—you've found yourself in this situation multiple times at the beginning. “It’s fine, Jihoon. You’re just getting attached.”

He shot you a side-eye, as if daring you to make fun of him. “I’m not attached.” he muttered, crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder as you moved to the other side of the kitchen to help clean up. “You’ve become one of them now. A softie.”

[...]

The kitchen had never felt more alive than it does today. Jihoon, who had never been particularly fond of chaos, was smiling—almost laughing—while keeping his eyes on the counter. It was supposed to be a “friendly” competition between the boys and girls, but honestly, it was just an excuse to see how much you and Jihoon could handle before the chaos completely overtook you. And right now, it was clear neither of you were winning.

You stood on the boys’ side of the kitchen, trying to keep them from getting too rowdy as they threw flour at each other in some misguided attempt to "season" their dishes. On the other side, Jihoon was managing the girls, who, much to his dismay, were doing exactly what you expected them to do.

Jihoon stood there in your pink apron, his now short hair practically glistening with glittering accessories—tiny scrunchies, little clips holding stray locks back—making him look like the type of man who should’ve been anywhere but in a kitchen with a bunch of kids.

One of the girls tugged at Jihoon’s sleeve. “Chef Jihoon, can you stir this? It’s too heavy!” she whined, her small hands gripping the bowl.

“Of course,” Jihoon said, crouching slightly to be at her level, but not before side-eyeing you. “Unlike someone,” he said with mock emphasis, “I don’t leave my team hanging.”

You gasped dramatically from across the kitchen. “Excuse me, Chef Lee, but my boys are doing just fine, thank you very much!”

Jihoon smirked as he whisked the batter.

A few minutes later, the competition was in full swing, and the teasing between the kids was relentless. Every now and then, you had to intervene.

“Chef Y/N, Chef Jihoon’s team says our cookies will burn!” one of the boys pouted, pointing accusingly at Jihoon’s side of the kitchen.

You shot Jihoon a glare. “Chef Lee, are you sabotaging my team’s confidence?”

Jihoon feigned innocence, holding up his hands. “Sabotage? I would never,” he said, though his smirk betrayed him.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, narrowing your eyes. You crouched to whisper conspiratorially to the boys, loud enough for Jihoon to hear. “Don’t worry, kids. His cookies will taste like his personality—bitter.”

At one point, Jihoon crossed behind you to grab a pan, but instead of taking the wide-open space on the other side, he chose to squeeze behind you in the narrow gap between the counters.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, voice low and entirely unnecessary given the proximity. His hand brushed your waist as he reached past you, and you stiffened, gripping the spoon in your hand tighter.

“There’s a whole kitchen, Jihoon,” you scolded, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why are you in my personal space?”

He bit his bottom lip, as he moved away, holding the pan. “Just testing the waters. Seems warm.”

You huffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Go test the waters on your side of the kitchen before I throw you in the sink.”

He laughed, a soft, melodic sound that you hated how much you were starting to like. “Alright, alright. Don’t get flustered, Chef Y/N. I’ll behave.”

Later, you decided to up the teasing as revenge. Jihoon was bent over, helping one of the girls pour batter into a mold. You leaned close to him, hand on his back, making his back stiff under your hand. 

You scoff, your breath tickling his ear. “Careful, Chef Lee. Don’t spill. That would ruin your team’s reputation.”

Jihoon fumbled with the mold, nearly spilling the batter as he straightened up abruptly. He shot you a look, his cheeks faintly pink. “Very funny.” he muttered, grabbing the whisk with a little too much force, the batter splattering slightly.

The kids were oblivious to the Chef's bickering, fully focused on their creations. The teasing continued until the final moments, each team plating their cookies and presenting them proudly.

By the end of the competition, the kids were giggling and cheering as Fred and Jihoon’s assistant judged the dishes. Jihoon stood beside you, both of you wiping flour off your hands as the verdict was announced: a tie.

You stood beside Jihoon as the kids debated whose cookies looked better. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You know, you’re lucky there’s no actual judging panel. My team would wipe the floor with yours.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Keep dreaming, Lee.”

When the kids weren’t looking, he nudged you lightly with his elbow. You elbowed him back, harder, earning a stifled laugh.

[...]

You sat slumped at your desk, your face buried in your hands as Fred paced back and forth in front of you, rattling off potential solutions. The stress of the upcoming fundraiser gala was weighing on you like a damn cast-iron skillet. 

The shelves in the stockroom were stacked with ingredients that you weren’t even sure you’d be able to use now that the catering service had ghosted you. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Fred sighed dramatically, flopping down in the chair across from you. “Alright, boss, what’s the game plan? Do we, like, call another service or… just throw in the towel and serve chips and soda?”

You groaned, peeking at him through your fingers. “Fred, I swear to God, if you bring up chips one more time—”

“Okay, okay, chill,” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “But for real, though. We gotta figure this out. You know how fancy these people are. One whiff of ‘homemade’ and they’re gonna start asking if we milked the cows ourselves.”

You let out a dry laugh, leaning back in your chair and staring at the ceiling. “I should’ve just canceled the gala altogether. Who even does this every year? I’m not Beyoncé.”

Fred smirked. “True, but you’re like… Beyoncé of the kitchen. That counts for something, right?”

“Fred,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes at him. “That is not helpful.”

You were mid-spiral, staring at your disheveled desk, when a knock pulled you out of your chaos. Turning sharply, you found Jihoon leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to look casual—but you could tell he was hesitant, maybe even nervous.

What the hell did he want now? You thought he already headed home.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes darting between you and Fred, who was sprawled across the chair forehead red from how stressed he got.

Fred’s head shot up like a meerkat. “Not at all! Actually, perfect timing—”

You shot Fred a glare sharp enough to make him frown. “Fred. Shut. Up.” Then you turned to Jihoon, crossing your arms. “What do you want?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “Heard about the cancellation. Thought you might need a hand.”

Fred couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “She needs more than a hand. She needs, like, divine intervention at this point.”

“Fred!” you hissed, your face heating up. Fred waved you off, muttering something about grabbing coffee, and practically bolted out of the room, leaving you alone with Jihoon.

You sighed and turned your full attention to him. “Alright, so what’s this about? Because unless you have a whole-ass catering team hiding in your back pocket, I don’t think you can magically fix this.”

Jihoon tilted his head, his lips twitching into that insufferable smirk you hated so much. “Well, I don’t have one in my pocket, but I do have a team. Or did you forget I used to run a restaurant?”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, straightening up a bit. “I can bring my team in. We’ll handle the food. You focus on… whatever else needs doing. Win-win.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was actually being helpful or just showing off. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly. “I just want the kids to have a good night. And… maybe—prove to you that I’m not as useless as you think.”

You let out a groan, rubbing your temples. “God, you’re so smug.”

“Smug, but capable,” he quipped.

It wasn’t like you had a long list of alternatives, and time was running out. You were about to say no—hell, you even opened your mouth to shut him down—but the words didn’t come. You were stuck, and deep down, you knew it.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms even tighter. “But if your team screws this up, Jihoon, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

His smirk widened into a full grin. “Deal.”

He turned to leave, and you couldn’t resist one last jab. “And don’t think this means I trust you or anything!”

Jihoon glanced back, his smirk back to its usual lazy self. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Chef.”

Fred found you in the kitchen later, supervising a delivery of more ingredients that just reminded you how overwhelming this whole gala was going to be. “So, you really letting Jihoon handle the food?”

“Not like I have a choice,” you muttered, signing off on a receipt. “It’s either him or I start calling catering companies and praying someone says yes for this weekend.”

Fred snickered, nudging you with his elbow. “You’re playing with fire, boss. You know that, right?”

“I know...” you sighed. 

You bit your lip, your eyes fixed on Jihoon across the room as your thoughts tangled themselves into knots. He was chatting with his assistant, leaning slightly against the counter in that laid-back way of his. But then, a small hand tugged at his pant leg—a boy from the younger group, arms stretched high in the universal signal to pick me up, as he closed and opened his hands.

Jihoon hesitated for half a second, glancing down, but the moment the kid grinned up at him, Jihoon’s expression softened into something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. He crouched to the boy’s level, picking him up with ease, and the little guy immediately started chattering about… something. Jihoon nodded along like it was the most important thing he’d ever heard, even giving a small laugh that made your stomach twist.

“Y/N.” Fred’s voice brought you back, and you turned to see him giving you that I’m onto you look.

“What?” you whispered sharply, leaning closer.

Fred smirked. “I said, you’re really letting Jihoon handle this? Big leap of faith.”

You sighed, dropping your voice even lower so no one else could hear. “Do you think he’s gonna mess everything up again?”

Fred tilted his head, watching Jihoon over your shoulder. “Mess up? Nah. He’s too proud for that. He’d rather break his back making this perfect than give you more ammo to throw at him.”

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “You’re awfully optimistic.”

Fred leaned closer, his voice lowering to match yours. “Look, I know he’s got a reputation—believe me, I’ve heard all about it—but people change. I’ve been watching him. He’s trying, Y/N. He really is.”

You glanced back at Jihoon, just in time to see him toss the boy lightly into the air and catch him, earning a giggle loud enough to echo through the room. Jihoon smiled, genuinely, and you caught yourself blinking like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Fred nudged you. “See what I mean? That’s not the same guy who showed up on day one, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t screw this up,” you muttered, your fingers tightening around the clipboard you were holding.

Fred gave you a look that bordered on exasperation. “You’re allowed to doubt, boss, but at least give him credit for showing up. He’s not just phoning it in. Look at him.”

You did. Jihoon had set the boy down and was now crouching as a small group of kids swarmed him, waving drawings in his face. He listened intently, nodding as one of the girls pointed out the details of her masterpiece. Even from a distance, you could see the way his lips twitched into a small smile.

“See?” Fred whispered, his tone softer now. “He’s trying to be here, to be part of this. Maybe he’s not perfect, but none of us are. Don’t punish the guy for trying.”

You bit your lip again, uncertainty clawing at you. “It’s not just about trying, Fred. It’s about doing it.”

“And he’s doing,” Fred countered gently. “Every single day, in his own way.”

You stayed quiet, watching Jihoon stand up and ruffle one of the boy’s hair before turning back to his assistant. As if sensing your gaze, he glanced up, meeting your eyes for a fleeting moment. 

Fred patted your shoulder, snapping you out of it. “Look, I’m not saying you have to trust him blindly. But maybe, you can let him prove himself.”

You exhaled sharply, the weight of everything pressing against your chest. “Fine. But if he screws this up, I’m not holding back.”

Fred grinned.

Jihoon, still watching from across the room, gave you a slight nod before turning back to his conversation. The boy at his feet clung to his leg like a koala, and Jihoon, didn’t seem to mind.

— // One day before the Fundraiser Gala // —

The sound of heels and boots against the tile floor echoed through the kitchen, direct contradiction to the usual patter of children’s sneakers and laughter. Jihoon’s team had arrived, and damn, they looked like they meant business. Clad in immaculate white chef coats and black pants, they marched in like some kind of culinary SWAT team, their faces serious as their eyes scanned the colorful cabinets, the shelves stacked with bright utensils, and the whimsical decorations scattered around.

For a second, you thought they might’ve walked into the wrong place. This wasn’t their sleek with its stainless steel everything and clinical vibes.

One of the chefs—a woman probably in her late thirties, with warm brown eyes and a bright smile—broke away from the group. Her crisp chef’s hat stood out even more because of the colorful butterfly pinned to the front. She approached you with her hands clasped in front of her, her energy immediately softening the sharpness of the arrival.

“You must be Chef Y/N,” she saidt. “It’s such an honor to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work. My daughter used to come here a few years ago before we moved away.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her warmth. Then your lips curved into a genuine smile as you reached out to clasp her outstretched hand. “Oh, really? That’s amazing! What’s her name?”

“Ellie,” she said, her smile widening. “She loved it here—always talked about the classes and how kind you were. You really made an impact on her.”

Your chest tightened with pride as you squeezed her hands lightly. “That means so much to me. Thank you for sharing that.”

Jihoon’s voice broke through the moment, sharp but not unkind, as he began directing his team like a seasoned general. “You, start unpacking the equipment and setting up the stations. Over there,” he pointed toward the far counters, “clear the area for plating tomorrow. We’ll use this section for prep. Let’s move efficiently; we don’t have all day.”

The chefs snapped into action, moving in sync as they carried crates of supplies and ingredients to the designated areas. Some paused briefly to take in the kitchen's playful décor—bright red mixing bowls, pink spatulas, even a small chalkboard where the kids had drawn messy pictures of cookies and cakes.

A younger chef paused at the chalkboard and tilted his head, squinting at a crookedly drawn cake. “What’s this supposed to be?”

You smirked, stepping closer. “That’s a birthday cake. Pretty sure it was done by a five-year-old last week.”

He grinned sheepishly and quickly got back to work.

As the flurry of activity settled into a rhythm, Jihoon finally approached you, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms dusted with flour—intimidating or approachable? you couldn't name it. 

“So,” he said, nodding toward his team bustling behind him, “what do you think?”

You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You brought an army.”

Jihoon smirked, his dimple flashing. “You said you were stressed about the gala. I figured I’d bring reinforcements.”

“I didn’t think reinforcements would look like... this.” You gestured toward the scene unfolding behind him—chefs moving almost mechanically, unpacking boxes of spices, knives, and tools that looked way too fancy for your humble kitchen. “They’re terrifyingly efficient.”

Jihoon’s smirk widened. “It’s what we do.”

You shook your head, pleasedly. “I’m not used to this many people in here. Usually, it’s just me, Fred, and the kids. Maybe a volunteer or two. This is... Geez.”

Jihoon’s expression softened just slightly. “It’ll be fine. They’re good at what they do, and they’re here to help.” He tilted his head toward the woman with the butterfly pin, who was busy organizing a shelf of ingredients. “And they’re not all bad, see? You’ve already made a fan.”

You let out a small laugh, glancing over at her. “She seems sweet. But you—” you pointed at him, mock serious, “—better not let this whole operation steamroll what we’ve got here. I don’t want this place feeling like some high-end restaurant. It’s not what we’re about.”

Jihoon held up his hands, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Noted, Chef. No steamrolling.”

“Good,” you said, though it was a simple conversation, it left your stomach flipping a little.

Fred appeared at your side, raising an eyebrow at the scene. “Well, this is new. You two... not bickering?”

Jihoon let out a low laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

Fred snorted. “Noted.”

As the three of you stood there, Jihoon’s team settled further into their work. And for the first time in days, you let yourself feel a tiny spark of hope. Maybe  this fundraiser wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

The faint pop of balloons filled the air as you stood outside the big house, pointing toward the arch being assembled. The guy on the ladder adjusted the last few balloons based on your direction. “Yeah, a little to the left. No, too much—back a bit. Perfect!” you called, stepping back to admire the colorful display. Satisfied, you headed inside to check on the lobby.

The scene was coming together beautifully. Soft string lights cascaded down the walls, tables draped in crisp white cloths were adorned with modest floral arrangements, and a few colorful drawings from the kids had been framed and placed strategically to keep the spirit of the NGO alive. You smiled, exhaustion creeping in.

The kitchen door swung open briefly, the sound of movement spilling out. Jihoon’s voice rang clear as he called out commands. Curious, you moved closer, the faint smell of roasted vegetables and fresh herbs making your stomach grumble.

“Should we add the asparagus to the risotto?” one of the chefs asked Jihoon.

You peeked in to see Jihoon standing near the counter, frowning at the question. His arms were crossed as he considered the dish. “No. Substitute it with something the kids will like better. Maybe peas or sweet corn—something familiar.” His tone was sharp but thoughtful, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He’s got this.

With the decoration finished, you looked around the lobby one last time, hands on your hips, your legs were starting to feel the long day. Just as you were about to head upstairs for a quick break, Jihoon’s voice called out.

“Chef Y/N! Come to the kitchen for a second!”

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes but heading toward the kitchen anyway. The team had gathered around the main counter, dishes from the menu arranged neatly in front of them. Jihoon stood in the center, sleeves rolled up, looking completely in his element. When you stepped in, he placed a firm hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to the counter.

“Alright, Chef,” he said with a small smirk. “You’re the boss—taste and let us know if anything needs adjusting.”

You set your clipboard down by the edge of the counter, glancing at the team. Their expressions ranged from curious to tense, some with hands clasped nervously in front of them, others holding their breath. The way they watched you reminded you of the kids during class, eagerly awaiting your feedback with shiny, hopeful eyes. It was a window straight to their inner child, and it warmed you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You picked up the first dish—a delicate risotto plated beautifully with fresh herbs—and took a bite. The creamy texture melted on your tongue, and you couldn’t help but nod in approval. The team collectively exhaled, and a few shared quiet smiles.

Moving to the next dish, a roasted chicken breast with a honey glaze, you chewed thoughtfully before nodding again. Your eyebrows raised as you flipped to a fresh page on your clipboard and started writing.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a few of them shifting nervously, trying to sneak a peek at what you were jotting down. You heard someone’s breath hitch, and you fought back a grin. Their curiosity bubbling over like kids at a science fair.

Finally, you set the pen down and looked up at the group with a big smile. “Everything is excellent,” you said warmly, your tone full of genuine praise. The room erupted into quiet sighs of relief and soft laughter as they exchanged congratulatory nods.

Jihoon stood at your side, his eyes on you, but you didn’t miss the curiosity there, too. You ripped the page from your clipboard and handed it to him. “Here,” you said. “See you all tomorrow—get some rest. You’ve earned it!”

As you left the kitchen, you could feel their eyes lingering on you, their whispers audible even as you stepped into the hallway.

“What did she write?” someone asked, unable to contain their curiosity.

Jihoon unfolded the note, and for a moment, his face was unclear. Then he scoffed softly, a smile breaking across his face as he shook his head.

“What is it, Chef?”

Jihoon chuckled and held up the paper for them to see. Written in bold letters, surrounded by a big smiley face, were the words:

"You have the best team ever, Jihoon-ah! (P.S. Don’t mess it up, or I’ll switch the risotto for instant noodles tomorrow.)"

The room blast into laughter, the tension evaporating in an instant. Jihoon rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

— // The day of the Fundraiser Gala // —

The afternoon stretched lazily into evening. You were on autopilot, clipboard in hand, mentally running through the checklist one last time.

You didn’t even notice Jihoon’s team gathered in a loose circle near the kitchen, stifling laughter as they watched you stride past, completely oblivious. Jihoon, standing at the center, tried to hold it together, his lips twitching and his cheeks dangerously close to full-on pink.

When you finally looked up, feeling the weight of their stares, you froze. Jihoon caught your gaze, his face crumpling into silent laughter as he pointed at your head.

You blinked, confused, before your hand flew up and landed on the pink rollers still perched on your head. Your cheeks flamed instantly. “Oh my God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Not a word!” you warned, glaring at Jihoon, who was practically doubled over, biting his fist to keep from cackling.

“Come on,” he teased, still grinning. “It’s a look!”

You huffed, trying to keep your composure as you giggled despite yourself. Jihoon straightened, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no judgment. But seriously…” His tone softened slightly, and his eyes swept over you. “You’ve been running around all day. Go get ready—we’ll take care of the rest from here.”

You smiled tiredly, feeling the faint brush of his fingers against your shoulder as he winked. The touch lingered, even as you turned to head upstairs.

In your office, the mirror reflected someone entirely different from your usual self. The rollers were gone, replaced by soft waves cascading around your face. The long dress hugged your waist and flared subtly at your hips. It was nothing like the practical aprons or flour-dusted chef hats you wore every day. For the first time in a while, you felt glamorous.

A knock sounded at your door, and Fred poked his head in. “You look…” He sniffed loudly, dramatically. “...so good. Do you even know how to walk in heels?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Shut up, Fred.” The hard texture of his tuxedo jacket pressed against your palm, a memo that tonight wasn’t just another day in the kitchen.

The lobby was alive when you descended the stairs. Guests filled the space—reporters, actors, chefs with Michelin stars under their belts, the kids’ parents, and longtime supporters of the organization. Some children were already laughing and playing with the monitors, their joy cutting through the formal atmosphere in the most perfect way.

You greeted guests warmly, flashing your practiced smile as cameras clicked and people extended hands to shake yours. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jihoon.

He stood near one of the round tables, his pristine white chef’s coat gleaming under the lights. Unlike the standard uniforms, his was sharp and sophisticated, accented with a brooch showcasing his achievements. His short hair was perfectly styled, and the smell of his soap lingered faintly in the air—jihoon always smelled like a fresh bath.

Jihoon was mid-conversation with a Michelin-starred chef, but his attention kept drifting. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved through the crowd. When your gaze met his, he subtly adjusted the collar of his coat, looking flustered.

He raised his hand, beckoning you over.

“Y/N,” he called, a bit more breathless than usual.

You walked over, smiling as he introduced you. “This is Chef Park. I had classes with him when I was just starting out.”

Chef Park extended a hand warmly, and you shook it, your voice full of charm as you exchanged pleasantries. Jihoon tried to stay focused on the conversation, but his gaze kept sliding back to you.

The dress—damn, the dress. The way it emphasized the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, the subtle swell of your chest—Jihoon felt his mouth go dry.

While you chatted animatedly with Chef Park, Jihoon fought to keep himself together. His eyes darted downward for a split second, landing on your ass before quickly snapping back up.

Fred sidled up next to Jihoon, smirking. “She cleans up nice, huh?”

Jihoon shot him a sharp look, cheeks pink. “Shut up.”

Fred grinned wider, nudging him with an elbow. “Bet you’re regretting all those jokes about her rollers now.”

Jihoon groaned quietly, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “You have no idea.”

When the conversation with Chef Park ended, you turned back to Jihoon, your smile soft. “So? Everything on track?”

Jihoon swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. All good. Just… don’t trip in those heels, okay?” he teased lightly, though his voice was a little hoarse.

You smirked, leaning in slightly. “Don’t burn the risotto, Jihoon-ah.”

Fred’s laugh from behind was loud enough to draw attention, but you were already slipping away, leaving Jihoon standing there, flustered and very much not focused on risotto anymore.

Everywhere you turned, there were people—donors, parents, fancy celebs holding glasses of wine like it was part of their outfits. The kind of people who looked too perfect. 

Back in the kitchen, you caught glimpses of Jihoon barking orders—well, not barking, but you know, his stern-but-not-rude tone that somehow made you think, damn, is it hot in here, or is it just him? His uniform was doing wonders, too. That brooch on his chest? Fancy as hell. The sharp cut of his chef coat? Not fair. The dude was practically glowing, commanding his team with this quiet authority that made you wanna—well, your ego didn’t wanted to finish that thought.

But it wasn’t just his looks. Watching him orchestrate everything like a culinary conductor, was making your knees go weak—It just hit different. He made plating look like an Olympic sport—it was sexy in a he’s-too-distracted-to-realize-how-hot-he-is kinda way.

You tried not to linger in the kitchen doorway like some creep, but your feet betrayed you. You found yourself lingering by the double doors leading into the kitchen way more than necessary, just to sneak a peek. And when Jihoon glanced up mid-sentence—probably to tell someone to stop over-salting the soup, the devil on your shoulder moaned in the most slutty and mockingly way in your ear.

He had this stupid air about him tonight, like a general in a Michelin-starred army, his pristine chef’s jacket glowing under the lights.

Honestly, it was hot. Too hot.

Every detail mattered to him tonight, like he was pouring himself into every dish for the house—and for you.

Meanwhile, Jihoon… He felt you. He swore he could feel you every damn time you entered the kitchen. He didn’t even have to turn around to know you were standing there, clipboard probably in hand, lips pressed together as you analyzed everything.

At one point, as he was giving instructions about caramelizing the chiken, his assistant caught him mid-stutter. Jihoon blinked, realizing he’d glanced at the door when he didn’t even mean to. Sure enough, there you were, leaning slightly against the doorframe, watching him.

“Chef?” his assistant asked, clearly amused.

Jihoon shook his head, trying to focus. But god, how could he when you were out there looking like that? The memory of your dress earlier—was burned into his mind, everytime he finished a plate.

And you weren’t just standing around, either. You were networking like crazy, charming the big donors with your natural warmth. Jihoon kept overhearing snippets of your conversations, catching the soft laughs you’d coax out of the crowd. His chest tightened every time. How the hell were you this good at everything?

The main event started in the salon, where guests gathered around tables adorned with delicate flower arrangements. A massive screen hung at the front of the room, flashing photos of the NGO’s achievements, kids smiling and laughing, and heartfelt thank-you messages from families.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much—your attention was split between schmoozing the guests and keeping tabs on Jihoon. He entered the room with his team in tow, their white jackets contrasting beautifully with the dark, sleek space. His presence shifted the entire mood, drawing eyes like a magnet.

As the night went on, donations started rolling in. The screen showed the numbers climbing higher and higher, names of donors flashing beside each amount. You clapped along with everyone else, heart swelling every time the digits jumped. But then a new name appeared: Lee Jihoon. His real name by the side of the donation, not his professional one.

Your breath caught. The amount wasn’t just generous; it was enormous. Enough to make an audible gasp ripple through the crowd.

Fred’s hands landed on your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. You didn’t respond, eyes fixed on Jihoon as he stood near the back of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn’t looking at the screen. Instead, his gaze was on you.

Later, after the gala dinner had been served and the kids had performed their adorable little skit, Jihoon’s team gathered in the salon, celebrating their successful service. Jihoon found you again, his hand brushing yours as he handed you a flute of champagne, making you abandon your clipboard once for the night, before heading to the kitchen. Cute.

Minutes later Jihoon saw you coming towards his team direction, and he stepped aside, making room for you in the circle. His hand brushed against your back lightly, making your skin shiver under the pads of his fingers.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” you replied, glancing at him. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

He gave a small smile, but it didn’t quite hide the way his chest puffed up a little at your praise.

One of the chefs leaned forward, clearly curious. “So… what’d you think of the risotto?”

You laughed softly, remembering the dish you’d tasted earlier. “Honestly? It was flawless. You guys knocked it out of the park.”

The team broke into wide smiles, their pride radiating through the room. Jihoon stood quietly beside you, but you could feel the satisfaction rolling off him.

“You really do have the best team, Jihoon-ah,” you said quietly, just for him to hear.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know. But don’t tell them that—they’ll get cocky.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed.

[...]

The house was a ghost town now, silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The laughter of the kids and clinking of glasses had faded into memories, and the night felt heavy in the best way—like it had been full.

You stretched your legs out on the rest room couch, head lolling back. The long dress you’d cursed earlier now felt like salvation, hiding how much you wanted to just kick your heels off and sprawl indecently. Fred and Jihoon’s assistant sat across from you, chatting nonstop like they hadn’t just survived the most exhausting night of their lives.

Jihoon, was quiet, his head tilted back against the wall, arms crossed, looking done. You wanted to tell him to take a break, but you knew better—he’d earned the silence.

Still, your throat felt dry, and you sat up suddenly, pushing yourself off the couch. “I need another drink. Back in a sec.”

Fred shot you a look. “Champagne? Or vodka this time?”

“Champagne.” you fflip him off with a tired grin as you headed for the kitchen.

The kitchen was spotless, not a single dish out of place. You stared at the counters, blinking in disbelief.

“No way,” you murmured under your breath, tugging a fresh bottle of champagne from the cooler. “Even the dishes?”

A low voice startled you. “Even the dishes.”

You jumped, nearly dropping the bottle, and spun around. Jihoon was leaning against the doorway, his jacket draped over one arm, his hair slightly mussed like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. He smirked softly at your reaction.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, grabbing a second glass for him. You poured the champagne and handed him one.

“Cheers,” you said, raising your glass.

He clinked his against yours with a quiet chuckle, the sound of the glasses meeting delicate in the silence.

You sat on the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you sipped. Jihoon moved to lean against the counter beside you, his thigh brushing your knee as he turned his glass in his hand.

“You proved me wrong tonight,” you said suddenly, catching his eye.

He tilted his head, curious. “Oh yeah? About what?”

You smiled, a little softer this time. “About whether you really cared about this place. About the kids. About any of it. I thought you were just here because…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Because you had to be.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed, no defensiveness in his voice when he said, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care, Y/N. You know that.”

“I do now,” you admitted, setting your glass beside you. “I see it in how you are with the kids. How you talk to them, listen to them. Even tonight, bowing to every single parent...”

Jihoon’s face softened. “They’re… incredible. Every single one of them. I’m not gonna lie—I thought I wasn’t great with kids. But these kids? I love them, Y/N. Like… it’s different. They’re different. They remind me why I even started doing all this in the first place.”

You leaned back slightly, studying him, your chest tightening at how genuine he looked.

“You’re a sap,” you said, grinning.

“And you’re not?” he shot back, smirking.

You nudged his leg with your knee. “Don’t deflect. I’m being serious. You’ve come so far since you got here. And honestly? The house wouldn’t be what it is tonight without you.”

Jihoon stared at you for a long moment, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but then he just took a final sip of his champagne and placed the glass beside yours.

You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until he shifted, slotting himself between your legs with a smoothness that should’ve been illegal. His hands found the counter on either side of your thighs, and he leaned in close.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he murmured. “This place is you. Every inch of it. I’m just… lucky to be part of it.”

Your breath hitched as you met his eyes, the proximity making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Jihoon…”

“Hmm?” His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“You’re… a lot.”

“And you’re not?”

Jihoon stood close enough for you to notice how the soft cotton of his t-shirt clung to him underneath the chef’s coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Without thinking, your hand lifted, fingers brushing against the collar of the shirt.

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His gaze stayed locked on you, soft and curious.

You cleared your throat, keeping your voice steady. “So… you staying in town? Or are you disappearing again?”

Jihoon tilted his head, smiling softly. “I’m staying.”

“Good,” you said with a small nod, your fingers lingering for a second longer before dropping back to your lap. “In that case… want to make it official?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Official?”

You grinned, your tired eyes sparkling. “I mean, if you want to be part of our team. Contract and everything. Full-on chef Jihoon at the NGO.”

Jihoon blinked at you, the surprise written all over his face. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied. “At this point, if you leave, the kids are gonna cry for days.”

He scoffed, shaking his head with a laugh. “The kids? I’d probably cry.”

You laughed with him, the sound soft and genuine. “Would you?”

“Definitely,” he said, then glanced at you with a smirk. “Would you cry?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little as you place your palms behind you. “Please. I’ve already cried plenty because of you.”

Jihoon groaned, throwing his head back in defeat. “Don’t bring that up,” he whined.

You softened, nudging his arm. “I’m kidding.”

He sighed, resting his head on your shoulder like he was trying to hide from your teasing. “I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s real.”

You didn’t know if he meant the apology or the gratitude, but the way his hand lifted from the counter to rest on your leg through the slit of your dress made your back arch a bit. His palm was warm against your skin, his touch featherlight as he squeezed gently.

He straightened just slightly, his face close enough now that you could see the faint flush creeping along his cheekbones. “What if,” he said quietly, “I made you cry with something good instead?”

Your lips parted, the question taking you off guard. Jihoon didn’t pull back, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth like he was waiting for an answer. His eyebrows furrowing as if he was doing a really big effort to not kiss you.

“I—” You swallowed, your voice catching as his thumb began to trace slow circles against your leg.

His other hand brushed the edge of the counter beside you, steadying himself as he leaned just a fraction closer. “Would you let me?” he asked softly.

Your breath hitched as Jihoon’s hand slid higher up your thigh, his palm warm and firm. The tiniest, unintentional sound escaped your lips—breathy and needy—and the way his smirk curved made your panties sticky almst instantly. He leaned in, close enough for a soft, teasing peck. Merely there. Then he pulled back just enough to catch your reaction, his smirk deepening at the horny look in your eyes.

“Ji,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his shirt before he could get smug. Your lips found his, no uncertainty at all this time, your tongue slipping between his parted lips. 

His lips were impossibly soft, moving against yours with a rhythm that left your mind spinning. His tongue met yours, sweeping against it in a way that made you clutch his shirt tighter, pulling him closer. His hands abandoned your thigh, traveling upward, his palms smoothing over your hips, then the curve of your ass, before they settled on your waist.

Jihoon kissed like he worked in the kitchen—passionately, hard. Every movement was like he knew what would make you wetter, his lips pressing into yours harder, hungrier, as though he was savoring you. His thumbs brushed the edges of your ribs, fingers splaying as he drew you closer, swallowing the quiet moans that slipped out against his lips.

He broke away for a moment, sucking gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a soft pop. His lips lingered, warm and swollen, against your skin as he caught his breath. You felt his breath fan against your jaw before his mouth trailed kisses to the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. The press of his lips there was wetter, slower, his tongue just grazing enough to make your head tilt back.

His lips were plush, his tongue warm as it laved over the skin just below your ear. The sensation was maddening—gentle nips and soothing licks. He kissed lower, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, finding the pulse point that fluttered beneath his tongue. His tongue darted out, hot and slick, tasting the salt of your skin before he pulled it back in to suck lightly.

You felt your pussy expulsing more honey right after an agonizing tug on your lower belly. You rolled your hipstrying to find his heat down there too. “Hey—Jihoon,” you murmured, hardly able to get his name out as his mouth kept working, your mind slurred, weak and the faint.

And then, just as his hand slid higher, brushing along your ribcage toward your chest, reality hit you like a slap in the face.

The kitchen.

You froze for a second, pulling back with a shaky laugh as you pressed a hand to his chest. “We can’t… here,” you whispered, your cheeks flaming. “This is literally where the kids cook.”

“You’re right. God, you’re right. Im sorry.” Jihoon said, voice muffled against your skin as he let out a shy laugh. “I know. I just…” He pulled back slightly, looking at you like he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. You’re just…”

“Just what?” you teased, arching a brow even as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“...So hot,” he admitted, his lips curving into a sheepish smile that only made you hornier. 

You were about to respond—maybe tease him, maybe kiss him again—when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you both snap out of it like a couple of guilty teenagers caught sneaking around.

Standing in the doorway were Fred and Jihoon’s assistant, their jaws practically on the floor. Fred looked like he’d seen a ghost—or maybe his entire worldview shatter—while Jihoon’s assistant was holding a tray of neatly plated desserts, now slightly tilted as they both froze in place.

“Um…” Fred finally managed. “Are we… interrupting… something?”

You and Jihoon pulled apart instantly—well, as much as you could with him still standing between your legs and his hands still firmly on your waist.

“No!” you both blurted in unison, your voices hitting slightly different octaves, which only made the situation even more awkward.

Fred squinted at the two of you, his gaze darting between your flushed face, Jihoon’s equally guilty expression, and the very obvious fact that you were still sitting on the counter with Jihoon standing way too close.

“Uh-huh,” Fred said slowly, folding his arms. “Because it looks like I just walked into a scene straight out of a porno.”

Jihoon’s assistant, meanwhile, was trying—and failing—to hold back laughter, his shoulders shaking as he set the tray down on a nearby table, grinning like he’d just uncovered the gossip of the century. “Should we give you two a minute? Or, like… ten?”

“Okay, stop,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands as you tried to will the floor to swallow you whole. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks like you were—”

“Fred!” you snapped, cutting him off before he could finish that sentence.

Jihoon, to his credit, was doing his best to look professional again, straightening his shirt and stepping back slightly, though his ears were burning red and his black pants were almost exploding with the hard bulge poking the zipper. “I mean… we were just… talking,” he said, his voice awkwardly high-pitched. “Right, Y/N?”

“Totally.” you said, nodding way too quickly. 

Fred looked like he was physically restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that totally explains why Jihoon’s lips were practically glued to your neck.”

Jihoon’s assistant let out a snort, finally losing it as he doubled over laughing. “This is so much better than I imagined,” he said between giggles. “I knew something was up between you two, but this? Oh, this is gold.”

“Can we not?” Jihoon mumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he leaned against the counter beside you. “Seriously, just… forget this happened, okay?”

Fred crossed his arms, looking suspiciously amused. “Oh, no chance. This is going in the house history books.”

Jihoon groaned. “You’re literally the worst.”

“Yeah, and yet you’re the one making out in the kitchen,” Fred shot back, smirking. “So who’s really winning here?”

You sighed, hopping off the counter and smoothing your dress as you tried to regain some semblance of dignity. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we move on now?”

Fred shrugged, still grinning as he followed Jihoon’s assistant out of the room. “Oh, sure. But just so you know, I’m never letting you live this down.”

As they disappeared around the corner, Jihoon let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. His face softened as he caught your eye, and he let out a quiet laugh.

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “Could be worse.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon asked, stepping closer again, his voice reducing slightly. “Like what?”

You didn’t answer, but the look you gave him said everything.

[...]

The NGO was officially closed for a week after the fundraiser gala—a well-deserved break for everyone involved. You had practically collapsed in exhaustion the night after the event, but now, as the week began, your nerves were alive again for a completely different reason: Jihoon was coming over.

Your house, modest and cozy, suddenly felt inadequate in your eyes. It wasn’t that it wasn’t clean or comfortable—it was—but compared to whatever sleek, high-tech penthouse you imagined Jihoon lived in, with modern furniture, and probably some state-of-the-art espresso machine that greeted him in the morning with a personalized message, you felt like your space might seem a little too... quaint.

Still, you’d spent the morning scrubbing your house from top to bottom. The counters were wiped down three times, the couch cushions fluffed and rearranged, and the tiny plant by the window watered, even though it definitely didn’t need it. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror for what had to be the fiftieth time, smoothing down the soft pink fabric of your loose dress. It wasn’t too dressy, but it was cute and casual enough to not feel overdone. The fabric swayed lightly as you moved, and you liked how it made you look pretty. Enough to say, “I’m not trying too hard, but also please notice I’m cute.”

Why are you acting like this is a date? you scolded yourself. It’s just Jihoon. He’s coming here for work.

To top it off, you’d spent way too long picking out a perfume that smelled sweet but subtle enough to not overpower him. You’d made sure you didn’t smell like cake batter or frosting—not that it would’ve been bad.

When the knock finally came, you nearly tripped over your own feet rushing to the door. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your dress one last time and opened it, trying not to look like you’d been anxiously waiting there for twenty minutes.

Jihoon stood on your porch, casual but polished in a black crewneck and jeans, his hair perfectly messy in that way that looked completely effortless. He smiled softly, holding up a notebook and a small bag of groceries. “I come bearing snacks and bad handwriting,” he said.

You laughed, stepping aside to let him in. “Well, the snacks can stay. We’ll see about the handwriting.”

Jihoon looked around, his eyes scanning the cozy space. “This is nice,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “Way more personality than my place.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really? I thought you’d be used to… like… manoir vibes.”

“Manoirs don’t feel like this,” he said, glancing at the soft lighting and the framed photos on your shelves. “This feels like someone actually lives here.”

He smirked, stepping into the living room and setting his bag down. “So, what’s the big plan for this super important work meeting?”

Ah, yes. The “work.” You’d convinced yourself that this was about finalizing the “Culinary Educational Outreach Program” you’d both been brainstorming for the organization. Jihoon called it “CEOP,” pronounced like “sip,” which made Fred gag every time he said it.

“First,” you said, trying to ignore how nice Jihoon looked standing in your living room, “we sit down and outline the goals for CEOP. Then, we cook.”

“Cook?” Jihoon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Are you just using this as an excuse to put me to work in your kitchen?”

You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to follow you to the dining table. “Shut up and sit down. We’ve got notes to take.”

The two of you sat across from each other, your knees brushing occasionally under the table. Jihoon’s handwriting was frustratingly neat for someone who claimed he didn’t care about stationary aesthetics, and for someone who claimed to have atrocious handwriting.

“So,” you started, tapping your pen against the page, “we want to make the cooking classes accessible, fun, and educational, right?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon said, jotting something down. “But we also need to keep the budget in mind. Like, how much can we actually afford to spend on those tiny aprons the kids keep asking for?”

You snorted. “You’re still salty about the aprons?”

“They’re expensive!” he argued, eyes narrowing at you. “And they’re just gonna get covered in flour and icing.”

“That’s the point, Jihoon. Let them be messy. It’s part of the fun.”

Jihoon shook his head, but you caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Fine. Tiny aprons. But if the kids start demanding personalized chef hats, that’s on you.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly as you scribbled down some ideas. Jihoon’s gaze flickered to your neckline watching how your boobs moved as you breathe for a split second before he snapped back to his notebook, clearing his throat.

The plan transitioned seamlessly into the kitchen—almost seamlessly. You’d barely gotten past measuring the ingredients when Jihoon leaned over to adjust your grip on a whisk, his hand brushing yours.

“You’re holding it like you’re trying to stab the dough,” he teased.

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jihoon just laughed, stepping back to watch as you mixed the batter. His eyes wandered—innocently at first, but when you shifted your weight and the neckline of your dress dipped slightly, he had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to… focus.

“Okay, my turn,” he said, taking the whisk from you.

As he worked, you found yourself leaning in closer, watching the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the way his jaw clenched slightly in concentration. You didn’t even realize how close you were until Jihoon dipped his finger into the icing sugar and smudged a line across your cheek, careful to not mess your pretty make up or accidentally spot your dress.

“Hey!” you gasped, stepping back, your eyes wide.

Jihoon grinned, holding up his hands. “What? It’s a kitchen. You’re supposed to get messy, remember?”

You frowned, sulking slightly as you wiped at your cheek. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, not… attack me with sugar.”

Jihoon leaned back just enough to meet your flustered gaze, his smirk downright unsafe. He tilted his head, pretending to be shocked, one hand pressed to his chest in mock disbelief.

“Oh,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “So you want me to kiss you?”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I didn’t—”

“Mm-mm.” Jihoon shook his head, cutting you off as he stepped closer, crowding your space. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been looking at me like that all dayy. And now this pout?” His eyes flicked to your lips, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “If you do that again, I might just have to—”

You couldn’t look at him. The pressure of his gaze was too much, and you turned your head to the side, lips pressed into a tight line. Jihoon wasn’t having it.

His hand reached up, fingers gently guiding your chin until you were looking at him again. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher, like he was restraining himself from jumping on you. “That pout.” His smile widened, and he took a small step between your legs, his hands finding your hips and squeezing lightly. “C’mere.”

His lips brushed yours—insufficiently, like a mock. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the yearn already forming between your legs, but it was enough to make you almost moan. And Jihoon noticed.

He grinned against your mouth, taking his time as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, bumping your tits in the process. “You’re gonna have to ask me properly, like the good girl you are,” he whispered, the tip of his nose grazing yours.

“Please?” you breathed, but it was all he longed for.

His lips captured yours fully this time, devastatingly thorough. He didn’t rush, every moment spent tasting your lips was something he savored. His tongue flicked out, tracing the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and when you let him in, he took.

His tongue hungrily claimed yours, his tongue sliding against yours in deep, lazy strokes that made your knees weak. His other hand slipped around to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer, so close you could feel the heat of him through his shirt.

He tilted his head, angling the kiss to deepen it further. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging lightly before his tongue followed, soothing the slight sting. The contrast made you whimper, your hands clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright even though the kitchen counter was supporting your back.

“God, you sound so pretty,” Jihoon murmured against your lips. He pressed his hips into yours just enough for you to feel his cock growing inside his pants, making you frown desperately, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

His hand drifted lower, squeezing your waist before trailing over the curve of your ass. When he pulled back, just slightly, his lips were plum, slick and swollen. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot that he tasted and teased days before.

Your head fell back as his lips traveled lower, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin of your neck. He sucked lightly, and you knew that it was enough to leave a redspot without even look at it.

Your hand slid between your bodies, and the second your palm made contact with the unyielding weight of his cock, Jihoon’s reaction was instant. His hips stuttered forward, a whiny, almost helpless sound escaping his lips as his forehead dropped against your shoulder. “Oh, fuck—you can’t just—” He cut himself off with a breathy laugh that turned into a moan, his hands gripping your hips to steady himself.

You couldn’t help but grin while rolling your eyes lightly, fingers curling around him to get a better feel. He felt big, so thick that your fingers barely wrapped halfway around the length of him. You gave an experimental squeeze, and his mouth fell open, his breath hitching as he muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive,” you teased, sliding your hand along him slowly, feeling the heat of him through the fabric. His hips jerked involuntarily, grinding into your palm, and you gasped at the weight of his phallus.

He lifted his head, his face flushed, lips shiny and parted. “Sensitive?” He let out a shaky laugh, biting his bottom lip before grinning wickedly. “You’re over here squeezing me, and you wanna talk about me being sensitive?”

You squeezed him again, just to see what he’d do, and he cursed loudly, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck—okay, okay, you’re insane.” His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you still as he started to grind against your palm, his cock twitching under your touch.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, and he opened his eyes, his pupils broad as he looked at you.

“What?” he rasped with voice strained but, his hips never losing their rhythm against your hand.

“You’re literally humping my hand right now,” you pointed out, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

“And?” His mouth curved into a smirk, though his voice wavered as you tightened your grip on him. “You think I’m just gonna sit here all chill while you touch me like that?” He let out another moan, his head falling back slightly before his gaze locked on you again.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his ear. “Feels good, huh?” You pressed your palm harder against him, your fingers teasing along his length. His response was immediate—his hips bucked, and a whiny “shit” escaped his lips, his face scrunching up in pleasure.

Jihoon smirked, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours. “Keep playing, and see what happens,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, your fingers brushing against the tip of him, and he groaned, the pads of your fingers starting to get sticky with the precum already jutting through his pants. 

He exhaled sharply, and suddenly, his body pressed against yours so firmly that you couldn’t move. The breath hitched in your throat as his hips pushed yours into the counter. Jihoon’s eyes flicked down, and that’s when he froze.

Your dress straps had slipped from your shoulder, the fabric falling just enough to expose the curve of your chest. The neckline dipped precariously low, your tits all but spilling out. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship or devour you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth before smirking. “Hiding all that under an apron, hm? How dare you?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a tiny, playful shake, but the motion only made things worse. Jihoon’s pupils dilated as his eyes flicked between the slight bounce and your face.

Without waiting another second, he hooked his fingers under the neckline of your dress and tugged it down, the fabric pooling at your feet in record time. He muttered something incoherent under his breath, hands already fumbling with the clasp of your bra, his desperation so endearing it made you giggle.

“You good?” you teased as he struggled with the hooks.

“Do not laugh at me right now,” he grumbled. Finally, the clasp came undone, and he yanked the straps down your arms like his life counted on it.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, his hands immediately cupping you, warm and firm. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you feel like jelly in his hands, your skin not even covering the shivering. “You’re actually perfect. Like, what the hell?”

You were about to retort when he leaned forward and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast, and whatever witty comment you had died on your tongue.

Jihoon pulled back just enough to look at you. “Counter,” he rasped, already moving to lift you.

But the universe had other plans. His elbow knocked into a mixing bowl on the counter, sending it clattering to the floor with a loud metallic crash. Both of you froze, eyes wide like kids caught sneaking snacks.

“Shit,” Jihoon whispered, glancing down at the bowl before meeting your eyes. A laugh bubbled out of him, breathy and slightly unhinged. “Okay, yeah. This is cursed. New location.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, as he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bathroom like it was some grand escape.

The bathroom light flicked on, and Jihoon speeded, it was the next room. He turned to you, his hands sliding up your sides, fingers brushing over the straps still hanging limply on your forearms. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less heated.

Instead of rushing, he dipped his head, his lips trailing down your shoulder as he pushed the straps down. The fabric fell away entirely, and his hands followed the motion, sliding down your body.

When you reached for his shirt, Jihoon smirked, pulling back just slightly. “Oh, you wanna do the honors?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you tugged the hem of his shirt up. He raised his arms, letting you peel it off him, the fabric catching on his mess of dark hair before dropping to the floor. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles as he watched you.

When it came to his pants, though, he grabbed your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his grin widening. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and drawers and pushed them down himself.

Your eyes dropped, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open slightly. “Wow,” you whispered, and he laughed, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours again.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Wait ‘til I’m inside you.”

You didn’t even try to stifle the shameless moan that ripped from your throat, loud and unrestricted. It sounded like something straight out of a porno, and Jihoon had the nerve to smirk. “Damn, we’re not even there yet… You like it when I talk with you like this?”

You nodded quickly, disoriented in the sense to say anything coherent. Jihoon smirked, leaning in to nip at your jawline before pulling back just enough to hook a finger into the waistband of your panties.

“Come nearer,” he whispered, tugging you forward by the elastic until your chest clashed against his. His nails grazed the skin just above the fabric, teasing the sensitive area before his hand dipped lower. He let the material slide over your hips, his knuckles brushing your skin as he pushed it down. When the panties reached your thighs, he let gravity do the rest, the fabric pooling around your ankles.

Jihoon’s hands immediately found your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing and setting you on the cool marble of the bathroom sink. The contrast between the chill of the counter and the heat of his body made you shiver, your legs instinctively closing.

“Uh-uh,” Jihoon said, his voice a frolicsome warning. His hands gripped your knees, spreading them apart again, wider this time. His gaze dropped, and his breath audibly caught as the light from the mirror illuminated you perfectly—your thighs trembling, your folds glistening, and the way your body clenched and unclenched in forethought.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his thumb brushing the inside of your thigh as if to test if you were real. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty down here. Like, actually unreal.”

Your face burned at his words, but before you could respond, his hand was back. His index finger dragged lightly through your folds, collecting your slick before circling your clit with a featherlight touch. Your eyes squeezed shut as your turned your head to the side, as if the sight of him would make you weaker.

“Jihoon,” you whined, your voice high-pitched and needy.

He grinned at that, his other hand bracing your hip to keep you from squirming away. “Patience.” he murmured. 

His finger pressed more firmly against your clit now, rubbing infinite motions that made you rest your back on the mirror, instantly melting. Just as you felt the stimulus start to build, he stopped.

Your head snapped up, a frustrated groan leaving your lips. Jihoon only laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before pulling back again.

“What’s the rush?” he teased, his finger sliding lower to brush against your entrance but never pushing in. “We’ve got all night.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking toward his hand. His smirk widened, and he slid his finger back up, tapping lightly against your clit like he was testing how much more you could take.

“Jihoon! N-no!” you practically sobbed, your thighs trembling as you clenched around nothing.

“No…,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I want you shaking for me.”

He alternated his technique, sometimes circling your clit in lazy patterns, other times tapping. Each time you came close to your orgasm, he pulled back, leaving you swaying on the border.

Your breaths came out in short, shallow pants, and your hands gripped the counter so hard your knuckles started to hurt. “Please,” you begged, your voice breaking.

Jihoon leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “Just one more time.”

This time, he used two fingers, sliding them in a v-shape around your clit and moving them side to side in quick, ribbing motions. The sensation was unlike anything you’d felt before, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

“Shes so puffy already,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your cunt as he worked you over. “I can feel you shaking, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

You nodded desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yes—please, Jihoon, I can’t—”

Jihoon pulled his hand away, and you sobbed. Your chest heaved as frustration and desperation coiled tight inside you, tears welling in your eyes.

“Aww, baby,” Jihoon cooed, his voice a mocking singsong that somehow felt like a soothing balm and fuel to your fire at the same time. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing a stray tear that slid down. “Look at you. So needy. You’re so wet already, and you think you’re ready for this?”

Your breath caught as he grabbed his cock, thick and glistening at the tip with precum, and let it rest heavy on your stomach. He tapped it against your skin, each tap leaving a sticky, wet line that trailed down to your bellybutton.

“See this?” Jihoon asked, his tone low but tinged with teasing. He shifted his hips, dragging the head of his cock up your stomach so you could feel its full length. “How do you think this is gonna fit, huh? You can’t even take my fingers without cumming. What makes you think this cock’s gonna slide right in?”

You blinked down at him, the weight of his cock against your belly making your head spin. It reached your bellybutton, almost too far, the swollen head ruddy and glistening like it was mocking you, daring you to try.

Jihoon’s gaze softened for a second as he caught the wobble in your lip and the glossy sheen of your tear-filled eyes. “God, you’re too cute,” he muttered, before his hand was back between your legs. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, cooing again as he pressed the pad of his finger to your entrance. “Guess I gotta get you nice and stretched out for me, hmm?”

You felt the slow, steady push of his finger as it slid inside you, every nerve brightening at the intrusion. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, and Jihoon let out a quiet groan.

“There we go,” He slid his finger in deeper, curling it slightly to press against your front wall. Your hips bucked at the sensation, and Jihoon smirked. “Right there, huh? You like that?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your hands scrambling for purchase on the cool marble.

His finger pulled back almost completely before sliding in again, this time with a second one alongside it. The stretch was immediate, but your body welcomed it, pulsing around him. Jihoon wasted no time, curling his fingers and dragging them against your walls in a way that made you see stars.

“God, you’re so tight,” he muttered, his free hand resting on your trembling thigh to keep you steady. “You’re squeezing me so good. Can’t wait to feel you clench like this around my cock.”

His fingers picked up a rhythm, alternating between deep, curling strokes and quick, shallow thrusts that kept you guessing. He started adding little motions that made your head spin—scissoring his fingers to stretch you further, pressing his thumb firmly against your clit while his fingers stayed inside, or twisting his wrist slightly to drag his fingertips over new spots.

“You like that?” he asked, after noticing your hand chasing his fingers. “Of course you do. Look at how you’re dripping for me. You’re making such a mess, baby.”

“Jihoon—o-oh my god,” you whimpered, your back arching off the counter as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.

“Yeah? Right there?” Jihoon grinned, adjusting his angle to hit it again, harder this time. Your breath hitched, and he chuckled. “That’s it. So good for me.”

You couldn’t help it—the words tumbled out of your mouth in a whispered chant, your voice trembling with every syllable. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Jihoon smiled fondly at you, his cock twitching visibly against his stomach. “You’re so sweet when you beg,” he said, pulling his fingers out momentarily just to slide them back in with a delicious stretch. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

This time, he focused on your clit with his thumb, rubbing quick, tight circles as his fingers curled inside you. He replaced fast stimulation and sudden, devastating stops.

“Ngh—Please,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you gripped his forearm.

“You’re so close, hmm?” 

He slowed his movements again, dragging his fingers out just enough to feel the way you clenched around him, desperate to keep him inside. His thumb moved in teasing patterns over your clit, never quite enough pressure to satisfy.

“I need it,” you choked out, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he said, his tone softening again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before his fingers resumed their relentless pace, curling and pressing against that sweet spot again. “But you’re doing so good for me. Just a little more, okay?”

The coil in your stomach tightened impossibly further, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. Jihoon seemed to sense it too. His fingers curling like they were made to be inside you, massaging your g’spot with a rhythm that felt borderline illegal. His thumb merely rubbed your clit now, just enough to make you twitch, and the devilish smirk on his face said he was doing it on purpose. His other hand gripped your waist, steadying you like he knew you’d collapse if he let go.

“Um—thats why your strawberry mille-feuille is so good,” you suddenly gasped out.

Jihoon blinked, momentarily confused before realization dawned on him. His lips curled into that sly, cocky grin. “Wait—are you thinking about my dessert skills right now? While I’m two knuckles deep inside you?”

You whined, too far gone to deny it. “You’re too good with your hands!”

He chuckled, curling his fingers harder until your knees buckled. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m versatile then, hm?” His tone was light, but his fingers? Ruthless. He angled his wrist slightly, hitting that spot with pinpoint correctness, and you swore your vision went static for a second.

Your body jerked, your clit grinding against the heel of his palm as he shifted his thumb to flick at it—just once, but it sent sparks shooting down your back. His fingers pushed deeper, scissoring slightly, then dragging out achingly slow. “Jihoon, please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his wrist.

“Please what, baby? Want me to keep going? Or stop again?” he teased, his thumb pressing down on your clit just to lift off a second later, leaving you sobbing into his shoulder.

You wanted to slap him and beg him all at once. Instead, you cried out, “Don’t stop—oh my god—Jihoon!”

His smirk faltered for a second when your walls clamped down hard around his fingers, and a rush of wetness coated them. His hips grinding involuntarily into nothing, his cock throbbing visibly. “Greedy little thing.”

You couldnt form words anymore, your head falling back as your whole body spasmed. you chanted his name, completely gone, tears stinging your eyes as the coil in your stomach snapped hard, the force of your orgasm smashing you.

Jihoon didn’t stop. His fingers worked you through every wave, his thumb pressing firm, messy circles on your overstimulated clit until you physically had to push at his chest. “Too much” you croaked, but your legs trembled so bad you knew you couldn’t get far if he decided to keep going.

“Too much?” he repeated. He slowly slid his fingers out, holding them up for both of you to see, glistening and soaked. 

Jihoon still breathed heavily like he was the one being stimulated, giving you time to catch your breath, but you weren’t letting go. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck as you pulled him in, your lips pressing to his. His tongue slid against yours, massaging it in a way that sent heat straight to your sopping pussy. The sound of wet, sticky smacks echoed in the bathroom.

This kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was soft, and so heartbreakingly sweet. Jihoon’s hands roamed over your waist, and as much as he loved the way you tasted—loved the faint hint of the wine you’d shared earlier, the lingering sweetness that seemed to pour from your lips—there was something deeper about it.

Jihoon knew tastes. He knew them better than most people ever could.

He knew the tang of citrus, the buttery richness of a perfectly baked croissant, the smoky depth of roasted meat, and the way sugar could melt on your tongue like magic. He’d spent years chasing after flavors, crafting them into stories on a plate. But none of it, none of it, had ever come close to the taste of you.

It wasn’t just your lips or your skin—it was the whole experience of you. The warmth of your arms wrapped around him, the faint floral scent that clung to your hair, the way your body felt like home against his. If someone ever asked him, in an interview or at some fancy gala, what his favorite taste was, he already knew he’d be in trouble. Because he’d want to say “you.” And how could he not? You weren’t just a flavor; you were comfort food, the kind that nourished your soul in a way no recipe could replicate.

He pressed closer to you, losing himself in the feel of your lips, of your tongue stroking his with an intoxicating rhythm. You were both so caught up in each other that you didn’t even notice when he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. It wasn’t until the head of it nudged inside that you broke the kiss, gasping sharply as your chin fell forward, your moan feeling hot against his mouth.

“Jihoon—” you choked, and it made his stomach twist. He grinned against your lips, nasty and triumphant, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tilted his head back slightly to look at your face.

“You didn’t even notice, hm? So focused on kissing me good, you didn’t feel me slip in?”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head tilting back as another moan escaped you. Jihoon’s grin only grew wider, so big it almost felt boyish, but there was nothing innocent about the way his hips pressed forward, inch by inch.

Your walls clenched instinctively and then gave way, molding around his girth. You tilted your head down just enough to catch a glimpse, and the sight alone made your stomach tense.

The thin, glossy skin of your folds was stretched taut around him, clinging desperately as if your body didn’t want to let go. The contrast was stark, almost hypnotizing: the way your wetness coated him, leaving a shiny trail that dripped down, pooling at the base where your pussy tried to hug. He followed your gaze to glance down between you, his lips parting in disbelief.

“Goddamn, you’re taking me so well..” He shifted slightly, pressing a little deeper, and yyour vision blurred.

Your head fell back against the mirror as you moaned, your chest heaving. 

He cut you off with a slow roll of his hips, his cock pushing further, stretching you impossibly more. You gasped, your nails dragging down his shoulders as your body tried to adjust. “That’s my girl. Thought you could handle it.”

The slick sounds between you were filthy, echoing in the shadowy bathroom. You couldn’t stop the way your hips shifted, trying to meet him halfway despite the stretch. The movement made him groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he pressed you back against the marble sink.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he said, his voice almost a whine as his eyes flicked to where your bodies were joined. “You’re gonna ruin this counter... the floor..”

Your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper, and the motion earned a sharp intake of breath from Jihoon. 

His cock pulsed inside you, the wet heat of your walls squeezing him like a vice, clenching around every inch he gave you. His teeth caught his bottom lip as he pulled back just slightly, dragging against your sensitive core before thrusting back in. He wanted to watch you unravel, to hear every desperate sound spilling from your lips.

His hands slid from your hips to your thighs, pushing your legs wider to take him deeper. He paused to glance between you again, mesmerized by the way you swallowed him whole. “Can’t believe this tight little pussy’s taking all of me.”

You whimpered at his words, the sound shamelessly loud in the quiet bathroom, and it sent a quiver down his back. He smiled satisfied, as he leaned in, his lips brushing over your ear. “You like it when I talk to you like that, hm?” he teased, his tongue flicking over your earlobe before he nipped it lightly. “Tell me. Tell me how much you like it.”

“I—fuck—I love it,” you stammered. Your nails scraped down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake. “Love when you—when you talk to me like that. Love—oh my god—love when you’re inside me.”

“Yeah?” His thrusts slowed again, almost unbearably so, the head of his cock pressing against your g’spot with each measured roll of his hips. He let his forehead drop to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he grinned. He changed his angle slightly, shifting his hips just enough to hit a spot that sent fireworks exploding behind your eyes. The slick, wet sound of his cock moving in and out of you filled the room, mingling with the gasps and moans you couldn’t hold back. 

Your head fell back, hitting the mirror with a soft thud, and Jihoon chuckled, his lips brushing over the curve of your jaw.

“Careful, baby,” he said, massaging your scalp with a care that made you lean on it. “Can’t have you breaking the mirror just ‘cause I’m fucking you so good.”

Your laugh came out breathless, cut off by a sharp gasp as he suddenly pressed harder on your clit. “Jihoon, please—”

“Please, what?” His thrusts slowed again, torturously so, and he pulled back just enough to make you whine in protest. His fingers tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he watched you with dark, hooded eyes. Your hands slid to his neck, clinging to him desperately. “Please, gonna cum.”

“You want me to fuck you harder? You want me to make you cum all over my cock, baby? Say it..”

“Want you to fuck me—ngh,” you rolled your eyes.  “Want you to fuck me harder. Make me cum, Jihoon. Please.”

“So wet. God, I could fuck you all night. Don’t think I’d ever get enough of you.” Your walls clenched around him, and he cursed under his breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he struggled to keep his pace steady. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing it.”

“Then cum,” you whispered insistent. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your lips brushed over his ear. “Cum for me, Jihoon.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing faster, rougher that you thought that your sink wouldnt handle it. But even as he pushed you closer to the edge, his focus never wavered. “I—shit—I need to make you come first. I have to, baby.”

You shook your head violently, your own orgasm already clawing at the edge of your sanity. “No—no, I’m so close, Jihoon,” you gaspedr. “Just—just keep going, don’t stop—please—”

His hips jerked at your words, his cock twitching deep inside you as his body teetered on the brink of losing control. His thrusts slowed further, unsteady and disjointed as his thumb continued to draw tight, firm circles on your swollen clit.

“You feel so fucking good,” your voice sounded sultry and wrecked, your eyes locking onto his. “So deep—so fucking thick. Jihoon, I can feel you in my stomach. You’re so big, you’re gonna ruin me, baby. Do it. Come inside me. Fill me up.”

That did it.

The sound Jihoon let out wasn’t even human—a choked, strangled mix of a moan and a curse that hit its peak as his body shuddered violently. “Oh—shit—ah, fuck, fuck—!” His cock pulsed hard, the first spurt of his cum hitting so deep inside you that you felt it bloom with warmth against your cervix. You swore you could feel each throb as he came, his hips snapping forward instinctively to bury himself even further, his moans blending into desperate gasps. “Ah—hah—baby—!”

The heat, the pressure, the way his orgasm filled every inch of you—it all tipped you over the edge, dragging you into your own release. Your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as you cried out, “Jihoon—fuck—yes—!”

You arched into him, your hips lifting slightly off the counter to grind against his cock, riding the quakes as your climax ruptured through you. The movement made Jihoon gasp, his hands flying to your hips to still you. “A-ah—fuck—stop—baby, stop—hah—ah, shit—!” His voice cracked as he groaned, overstimulation evident in the way he hissed through gritted teeth. “T-too much—oh my god—aw, fuck—!”

Jihoon’s laughter broke through his moans, a breathless, disbelieving chuckle that melted into another string of curses as he shuddered beneath you.

Finally, you stilled, your body collapsing into his as your head dropped to his shoulder. Both of you were trembling, your breaths ragged and uneven, your hearts pounding in sync.

The room settled into a quiet purr after the chaos. The bathroom was small, its muted light casting soft shadows on the tiles. But in this moment, it might as well have been the biggest place in the world, holding all the unsaid things between you, the weight of your shared history pressing down like a furry coat.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Jihoon asked suddenly, his voice soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to dig this deep. He looked at you then, his eyes more serious, like he was searching for something in your face.

You laughed, a small, shaky sound. “You mean when you accused me of stealing your recipe for strawberry shortcake at the first days of competition? Yeah, hard to forget.”

His lips quirked up, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “God, I was such an asshole,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t even taste it. Just saw your name on the board and thought, ‘Oh, great. Another rich kid with connections, swooping in to take what I’ve worked my whole life for.’”

You frowned, your fingers twitching where they rested on his chest. “You really thought that?”

“I didn’t know you,” he admitted, his tone apologetic. “I was so used to fighting for every little thing, you know? Scholarships, internships, a spot on the team—hell, even a secondhand stand mixer. And then you walked in, all… pretty and shiny. I just assumed you’d never struggled for anything in your life.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. Because yeah, he wasn’t wrong—you hadn’t grown up worrying about money or how you’d pay for school. But you’d struggled in other ways, ways that people like Jihoon—driven, hyper-focused, and painfully independent—might not have seen.

“That’s not fair,” you said softly. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Just because I didn’t have to fight for a secondhand mixer doesn’t mean I haven’t fought for other things.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know that now.”

The quiet between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… cogitative. Like you were both sifting through the memories, pulling them out one by one to examine under the bathroom light.

“The NGO,” you said suddenly, your voice intruding upon the silence. “That’s when everything changed.”

Jihoon nodded, his hands still on your waist, his fingers tightening slightly. “Yeah. When I saw what you were doing—what the competition money was for—I felt like shit. Here I was, thinking you were just some spoiled kid looking for another trophy to add to the shelf, and you were… Something that important.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “It wasn’t just me. It was all of us—Fred, the kids, you. God, Jihoon, you don’t even realize how much you’ve done for this place.”

He shook his head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know about that. I just… I wanted to help. And honestly, it was selfish at first. I needed a job, and you offered one. But then…”

“Then you fell in love with it.” The journey from strangers to colleagues to whatever this was had been anything but smooth. It had been messy and painful but it had also been beautiful in its own way. “I hated you, you know,” you said suddenly. “At the beginning, I mean. You were so… cold. And I thought, ‘How the hell am I supposed to work with someone who looks like he’d rather set the kitchen on fire than have a conversation with me?’”

He laughed, a genuine sound that softened the strain in the room. “Yeah, I hated you too. Thought you were this privileged, clueless brat who’d never survive a day in a real kitchen.”

“And now?”

“And now…” he bit his lip, analyzing your face as he tilts his head. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Jihoon…”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “You’re… you’re my favorite taste, you know? Out of everything I’ve ever made, ever eaten, ever dreamed of tasting—you’re the one thing I’ll never get enough of.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your heart swelling in your chest. “That’s cheesy as hell.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, his lips quirking up into a small, shy smile. “Sometimes the truth is cheesy.”

Jihoon’s smile faltered just a bit. “Sometimes, though… I wonder if you really forgave me. Like, deep in your heart.”

You blinked, stunned by the sudden shift, and searched his face for more. His brows were slightly furrowed, his jaw tight, like the weight of the question had been pressing on him for longer than he cared to confess.

“Forgave you?” 

“For the way I acted back then,” he said, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “The way I doubted you. The things I said, the things I did, the things I thought. I mean… I know we’ve moved past it. But deep down, I’ve always wondered if there’s a part of you that still holds onto it. That maybe you… couldn’t fully forgive me.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I did,” you said firmly. “I forgave you, Jihoon.”

He tilted his head, skepticism flickering across his features. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I don’t blame you for it anymore,” you said, leaning into him slightly, needing him to understand. “At that time, I had this picture in my head of what my life was supposed to look like. The glamorous Michelin-starred restaurant, the prestige, the accolades… It was all I wanted.”

“And I ruined it.”

“No,” you said firmly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything. If anything, you gave me something better.”

His eyes searched yours, still unconvinced. “But what if… what if I hadn’t? What if I hadn’t been so bitter, so determined to take you down? What if your dessert had won anyway?”

You paused, the weight of the question settling between you. “Or what if I’d won, Jihoon? What if I’d walked away with the title and the prestige and never thought about anything else? What if the organization never existed because I was too busy chasing some dream that wasn’t even mine anymore?”

He frowned at that, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You think… things were meant to happen this way?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But I’d rather believe that they were. That everything—every fight, every misstep, every moment we wanted to strangle each other—led us here. To this.”

Jihoon let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You always were the optimistic one.”

“Not always,” you said with a small smile. “But I am about this. About us. About what we’ve built together.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to where his hands rested on your hips. “You know… I think about it sometimes. The restaurant, I mean. How it’s under new management now. How I used to dream about a place like that—sleek, modern, perfect. And then I look at what we’ve done with the organization, and it’s… messy and chaotic, but so beautifull. Like it actually matters.”

“It does matter… And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the restaurant was never supposed to be our story. Maybe this is.”

He looked at you then, something shining in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said, your lips curving into a gentle smile. “Because if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have the kids, the bakery, the messes we can’t clean up without three people and a prayer.”

He chuckled at that. “The messes are your fault, you know. You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to teach a bunch of middle schoolers how to make éclairs.”

You grinned, leaning into him. “And you’re the one who decided to teach them soufflés.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft. “Well played.”

As you looked at him—messy hair, tired eyes, and a softness in his expression that you rarely saw—you felt something settle in your chest.

“Jihoon,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

— // Two Years Later // —

The NGO was quieter than usual. You noticed it the moment you stepped inside. Normally, the kitchen buzzed with the chaos of kids laughing, mixing ingredients, and occasionally bickering over who got to use the electric mixer. But today, there was an eerie calm.

“Hello?” you called out, setting your bag down on the counter. The faint scent of something baking lingered in the air, but it wasn’t enough to mask the odd tension. “Where is everyone?”

You wandered into the main hall, expecting to see at least Jihoon with his clipboard, corralling the kids into some elaborate baking lesson. Instead, the room was empty save for a lone piece of paper taped to the center of one of the tables.

“Come to the garden.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The garden? The small plot out back that you and Jihoon had transformed into a herb and flower garden over countless weekends?

Curious, you made your way outside, the warm sunlight spilling over the neatly trimmed rows of basil and lavender. At first glance, the garden seemed empty too, until you heard the faint giggle of one of the kids.

“Okay, who’s hiding?” you called out, scanning the area.

Suddenly, the kids burst out from behind the hedges, each holding a small bouquet of flowers, their faces lit with excitement. “Surprise!” they shouted in unison, running toward you and handing you the mismatched bundles.

“What is this?” you asked, laughing as you tried to catch all the flowers being shoved into your arms.

But before anyone could answer, Jihoon appeared at the edge of the garden, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He was dressed neatly, his usually casual outfit swapped for a crisp white shirt and a pair of dark slacks. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his lips quirked up in a nervous smile as he approached.

“Jihoon?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

The kids scrambled to the side, forming a small semi-circle as Jihoon stepped closer. He stopped just in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“You always said this garden was your favorite place,” he began. “You said it’s where you felt the most at peace, where everything feels real. So I thought it was the perfect place to do this.”

Your heart raced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Yah… What are you doing Jihoon-ah?,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He dropped to one knee, the kids giggling in soft gasps and excited murmurs. “I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how I got so lucky. How someone as stubborn and chaotic as me ended up with someone as kind and brilliant as you. And honestly? I still don’t know.”

You laughed softly, tears already welling in your eyes.

“But what I do know… is that I don’t want to spend another day without you. You changed my life, and you keep changing it, every single day. So…” He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring with a big, oval, sparkling diamond. “Will you marry me?”

The kids broke out into cheers before you could even process what was happening. Your hands flew to your mouth as you nodded quickly, too swamped to speak. Jihoon’s grin spread wide as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yes,” you finally managed to say, your voice muffled against his buff chest. “Of course, yes.”

The kids swarmed around you both, cheering and hugging as Jihoon pressed a kiss to your temple. “I had a lot of help,” he admitted with a soft laugh, gesturing toward the group. “They’re surprisingly good at keeping secrets.”

“Well, I can’t believe you pulled this off,” you said, laughing through your tears as you looked down at the ring.

“I had to,” Jihoon said, his voice soft and sincere. “Because I wanted to give you a moment as perfect as you’ve made my life.”

The kids had prepared cupcakes with little fondant hearts on top, and the staff brought out bottles of sparkling cider to toast the two of you. Jihoon never left your side, his hand warm and steady in yours, his smile never fading.

As the sun set over the garden, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you leaned into Jihoon’s side, the ring catching the last rays of light.

He tilted his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “You know, I was thinking,” he started, “when we’re, like, seventy or something, do you think we’ll still be able to handle all the chaos the kids bring?”

You snorted a laugh, turning to face him fully. “Seventy? Jihoon, I’m not even sure we’re handling it well now.”

He laughed with you. “What happens when we’re too old to keep up with their energy? You know they’re just going to keep multiplying, right? They bring their friends, their siblings, their cousins… It’s like a never-ending kid buffet in there.”

You shook your head, leaning into his side. “First of all, let’s not talk about being seventy when we just got engaged. Can I at least have a honeymoon phase before we’re planning for wheelchairs and dentures?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that naughty smirk. “Honeymoon~?” he drawled.

You rolled your eyes, biting back the grin tugging at your lips. 

“And you’re stuck with me now,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows before leaning back, the smirk still firmly in place. “So, where are we going for this so-called honeymoon? Somewhere romantic? Tropical? Or do you just want to stay in and let me make you dinner—while wearing nothing but an apron?”

fanfic inspiration by @thepoopdokyeomtouched thank you for giving me the motivation to write this fic! you're the sweetener to my blog's flavor. wishing you all the best this holiday season!

[mi-co-uk]

⍣ ೋ MUTE READER X YAPPER CHRIS

BLURB: chris is jealous of the mystery man that might have a crush on mute reader

WARNINGS: mean girls pretending to be nice, chris being silly c:

a/n ts lowkey buns chat :/ , it's not excruciating angst so I kinda don't like it but I hope yall do 😭 be nice pls

dotty wasn't stupid. she knew the games that this group of girls would play at just to show off to asshole boys in their class. she knew the moment the conversation started that Harper was just trying to get under her skin.

"oh my god I love your hair!"

unfortunately, there was no chance she'd have the courage to point out the stupidity of the conversation - so harper persisted.

"I've never seen it like that before!"

dotty had tied her hair differently. a slight change to put in a little more effort, trying to feel better about herself to reduce the anxiety of being in public. Harpers comment wasn't a compliment, clearly. it was purely enough to make dotty feel more conscious of herself and how she looks, humiliated from the observation made of how shed tried hard in terms of her looks.

dotty merely blushed with a small smile, trying to avoid harpers piercing eye contact.

she turned to one of her friends, "I bet you she did it for oliver!"

it was hard to determine whether it was perfect or tragic timing that chris finally arrived to the classroom. his face lighting up at the recognition of dotty, only to be quicky diminished by more recognition but of the utterly irritating presence of that group or girls. nonetheless he marched forwards to his well known seat next to dotty.

"I can set you up! you'd be so cute together!"

"who?"

harpers faux smile faltered slightly at chris' tone of voice. unashamed interrupting which was enough to give her the hint that she was supposed to shut up now-

"aw, nice try but it's a secret between us!"

- a hint she clearly didn't care about enough to take.

dotty was too far gone in her own head already. hyperanalysing the way others sat nearby who were observing the conversation taking place, one of which being oliver himself, enjoying the scene an uncomfortable amount.

"I'm sure he likes you too" she lowered her head and whispered to dotty, giggling while chris' persona of not caring at all was completely lost.

"who likes her?" he raised his tone, moving his head closer, blocking harper from being uncomfortably close to dotty.

dotty squeezed chris' arm, the conversation already far out of hand considering literally nothing had happened yet. it wasn't worth this at all.

Harper judged chris in eye contact, finding him rude for seeing through her facade. chris moved his head back, maintaining eye contact with harper to express his disgust.

chris was still stubborn, getting a secure grip on dottys chair to drag her closer to his table, away from harper. he began spiraling internally to figure out who it could be.

dotty found it quite silly now that the moment had passed. looking over chris' furrowed eyebrows and how he fiddled with his hands in frustration. she found it even funnier when she rested her head on his shoulder, and how he instinctively rested his atop hers while persisting his mental unwavering hatred for the mystery man.

she poked him in his side, chris jolted from shock just to look down at dotty and giggle. "what was that for?"

she pointed over to oliver, who was now flirting with harper.

"him?" she nodded. "yeah well he can have harper or fuck off. both actually."

- opinions?

[lomlsatoru]

༊*·˚ home | luke patterson

★ summary : after the fight luke and his mother had, he came to you. his home. 

★ warnings: angst, fluff & mentions of fighting. 

★ word count: 1.2k

── ⋆⋅☆

YOU WERE FLOODED WITH BLANKETS AS YOUR WHOLE FOCUS WAS ON THE LAPTOP PLACED ON YOUR LAP. you were watching your favourite Tangled with a pint of chocolate ice cream in your hand. 

your family were passed out, tired from all the barbecue you guys had earlier. with game night accompanying it, everyone went to bed in defeat — all except your father.

while they were sound asleep, you were watching your favourite disney movie. the concept of Tangled marveled you. 

you were one of those people who's into rom-coms or just plain romantic movies, but also refuse to actually be in a romantic action in real life. 

it's just that every time someone has tried to set you up with a guy, you never feel comfortable enough. 

also because you picked on every single flaw that they have and make it as an excuse that they're 'not the one'. 

there's this one guy, who is almost perfect. so, it's hard to find his flaw, but when you see it. you immediately think that it's a huge deal. 

basically he has two separate wallets, one for his large amount of credit cards, and one is for his wad of cash. 

but honestly, it was just to cover your feelings for the boy that has been with you since kindergarten. 

at first you didn't realise it, but you always feel all happy and giddy when he's around or when he makes eye contact with you. 

at first you thought it was just a phase that maybe you will get over. 

oh how wrong you were. 

those feelings just grew stronger by the minute. you become more aware of your appearance when he's around and always making sure that he's okay, etc. 

when you ranted to your best friend, she immediately told you that you were totally in love with him. 

but with him being in a band and having a huge gig at the orpheum — his dream place to perform — you couldn't tell him everything going on. 

he probably doesn't like you back and you will just bring more stress to him than what's already there.

you didn't even realise you were aggressively shoving ice cream in your mouth in a depressing manner. 

it's not that you were sad, actually you were, but you brushed the feeling off telling yourself that you're just being childish. 

but you were supposed to feel like this right? 

an idiot in love? 

or was that just propaganda? 

will you ever be so called 'in love'? 

the sounds of the voices in your head couldn't be tamed but that proves wrong when the song, I See The Light filled your ears. 

the sound immediately brought a smile to your face as the scene where eugene and rapunzel were on the yacht. 

but it was interrupted by a knock on your window. 

you jumped slightly and furrowed your eyebrows, confused but alert. the only person that would be coming through your window is luke. 

the boy we are crushing on? come one keep up! 

but it doesn't make sense, with christmas being around the corner, shouldn't he be spending time with his family? 

you put down your pint of ice cream nightstand beside your bed as you walk towards the window, opening it. 

and there stood luke patterson with a bag and guitar over his shoulder. 

his eyes were bloodshot red, his figure trembling as sniffles came out of his nose. 

you wasted no time taking his hand pulling him in. he dropped his things and instantly wrapped his arms around you. 

his face buried in the crook of your neck as sobs wracked his body. 

"shh shh i'm here. it's okay, you're okay, we're okay" you softly said as you rubbed his back making him relax. 

"i- i- they- we-" luke tried saying but getting his voice getting caught in his throat. 

"hey, hey it's okay" you softly pulled away and put your hands on his cheeks, wiping away some of his tears. 

you gave him a small smile "we have all the time in the world" you assured him. 

he nodded and brought you back in a hug, but this time his arms were around your neck, and your arms were around his torso. 

suddenly luke slowly moved forward which made you move backwards. 

your legs hit the bed as you fall down with a yelp bringing a chuckling luke down with you. 

you moved a bit, so your head met the pillows as his head rested on your stomach. 

this wasn't unusual for you guys, with knowing each other since kids, you guys often cuddle and sometimes even sleep on the same bed. 

your fingers continue to massage his scalp as his breathing slowed down and his body stopped shaking. his grip on your waist tightens every so often. 

"you're watching Tangled again?" he softly asked as he looked at the laptop beside you, trying to distract himself. 

"yep" you chuckled before continuing, "you wanna talk about it?" you softly asked the vulnerable boy. 

he nodded and took a moment before opening his mouth. "me and my mom got into a fight, " he started, his voice hoarse and you can practically hear him shaking. 

you rubbed your hand up and down his back, encouraging him to continue. 

"she was mad, saying that i'm wasting my time on the band, and she said that it's not important and i- i-" he stuttered with sobs. 

"shh shh it's okay, take your time" you encouraged him. 

he took a deep breath before continuing, "i didn't know what i was thinking but i packed up my clothes and just bolted away on my bicycle. and i have nowhere to go" he sobbed, pulling you closer as if you were an anchor and the only thing that will keep him grounded. 

your heart broke hearing him. "hey hey, it's okay you can stay here as long as you like" you said to him, a small smile on your lips. 

"really?" he looked up to you, sad eyes making you melt and devastated at the same time. 

you nodded, "of course. but promise me you'll talk to her after your performance at the orpheum" you told him. there is no way in a million years that you would let luke and his mom get into a fight and just break like that. 

you know how deeply luke loves music, but he loves his mom too. emily is an amazing human being, always being so sweet and kind. their bond is not just something to be broken. 

"i promise" he nodded and started to draw shapes on your side.

the action brought butterflies to your stomach, but you tried to cover your flustered state as you said to him, "it may not feel like home, but we can make it work" 

"i'm always at home when i'm with you" he mumbled quietly. 

your eyes widened as you stiffened. but it went unnoticed by luke as he pulled you tighter to him. 

he lazily lifted his head up and kissed the corner of your lips. he didn't say anything more after that. your heart flutters with thousands of thoughts invading your head. 

you feel like you can run five laps without stopping. 

you feel like screaming from the top of your lungs. 

but luke's snores alerted you that he's asleep and of course tired.

you beamed at the boy. "you're my home too luke" you whispered and kissed his head as you let sleep consume you with a smile on your lips. 

reblog for a kiss <3

[breakyourrxles]

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟙𝟝

𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞

↳ 'A picture is worth a thousand words,' as the age old adage goes, but you are soon to find out that the narrative spun around them can be worth so much more.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [8,7k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

Leaning his face closer to yours, Eric squints devilishly at you and says, "Be nice to me, or I won't scout the way myself to sneak you in."

The following days speed by in a blur; comeback practice, setlist practice, multiple meetings and pre-comeback appearances meant to create interest for what is soon to come commandeer the majority of your time, and it is only once you land in Germany that you realize just how little you have been able to afford for yourself.

There is a wash of relief there when the foreign air hits your skin and the unfamiliarity of a place you have never been before begins to sink in. Of course, MVNE have things they must do here beyond a handful of songs they are set to perform tonight, but photoshoots and social media are nothing compared to the demanding schedule that still awaits you back home.

You've still not spoken to Sunwoo in weeks.

He has been away for the majority of the time, and did not fly with the rest of you. Sunwoo, you find out through overhearing discussions amongst managers, will come in a few hours in the future. Straight to the stage for rehearsals, and then a meager wait following that until it is time to perform for those awaiting him.

One positive thing about it all is that Juyeon has kept his word.

Interactions with him are brief and professional, given the fact that you are in public and there are curious eyes all around. The fans like the two of you together in certain ways—as far as performance and aesthetic are concerned—but both of you know it best to not test the limits of where your friendliness might land you.

You steal glances as he stands near to you, careful not to draw attention to yourself. He is handsome and kind; forthcoming with his thoughts and feelings, incredibly intelligent and well-read on top of it all. For a moment you wonder to yourself, why not him, and then suppose that it really is as intangible and cosmic as what he had said to you only a week or so back.

Your heart just isn't in it. What else can be said for that?

Mid-day rolls around and rehearsals come and go. The sound leaves a lot to be desired with numerous hiccups and discussions following in tow. MVNE will perform four songs, which is plenty given the way your body feels weary on account of the travel and jet lag. A couple of the girls push for one more, but you stay silent in the conversations. Really, your mind is heavier than your body could ever be. Hours have passed, the rehearsal following yours is for The Boyz, and you know who is standing by backstage awaiting their time to shine.

Your feet hurt by the time your time slot is finished—numerous runs done over and over again until finally everyone has got it right. The girls all hurry backstage to enjoy the small amount of time they have until fans start shuffling into their places and the arena lights shine for you and so many others to be seen. At the very least, the green rooms are catered well and there is a whole plethora of food awaiting you.

Once down the stairs and behind the scenes of the glamour, bodies dart around and zoom past you, all with time-sensitive tasks of their own that must be attended to. Black blurs that you cannot make out the faces of before it is too late and they have disappeared off into the distance. People are shouting and static is buzzing from sound systems and communication devices. It's stressful making sure that everything happens precisely the way it is meant to; the air brimming with electricity that can be felt right down to your bones.

You look up and to your left, your eyes catch Kevin's briefly and your heart leaps up into your throat. The understanding that they had been waiting back here is something that logically, you had made peace with, but emotionally? Evidently less so.

Yet you can't look away.

Your attention spans down the line with momentum so fast that it makes your head spin. Chanhee and Haknyeon are standing just behind, though their eyes are set to the ground in anticipation of what's to come. Mimicking them, you also look to the floor, not wanting to accidentally trip on something that may be troublesomely in front of you. Then, your eyes snap back up and as if constructed by fate itself; you find Sunwoo.

He looks at you as if he can feel the fact that your gaze sits heavy on his form. It's so dark and so busy that you only have a second or two to truly get a look at him, but you don't require much to recognize that he has seen better days and wears the fact tiredly upon him.

Those eyes light up for what seems like the first time in a long time.

But you snap away from him and are quickly ushered down the hall towards elsewhere entirely. The girls all make their way inside of the green room, a few of them wasting no time looking over the bountiful display of snacks and drinks that have been waiting there for the taking. Rather than following suit, or sitting to rest your tired feet, you halt just past the doorway and remain lost in a split-second moment that has hardly even happened, at all.

The look on his face, and the obvious desperation seen behind eyes that have no hope of being able to convey the depth of whatever it they feel as though they need to.

"Hey," a familiar voice calls to you, enough to snap you back to the present. Woori nudges you with her shoulder from just beside you and lowers her voice a little bit more to avoid being overheard. "You okay?"

"What? Yeah, of course." What else are you meant to say beyond the thing that you know she wants to hear. "Just tired, jet lagged… You know how it goes."

"First time overseas for an event, it's not easy, I'll tell you that much," she agrees. "I don't know how groups do it, back and forth all the time, but I guess all we can hope for is that eventually, that'll be us, too." There's no response you have to give to her words with your mind still left back in the hallways. Woori notices it—perceptive as she is—and lowering her voice to a whisper she says, "Are you sure you're okay? You know… with everything going on?"

You grant her your attention, and though you have no doubt that your feelings lie fully displayed upon your features, you don't have the fight left in you to attempt to correct it, either.

"It's fine." That's the best you can do. "It's all going to be fine."

From just behind where the both of you stand, a knock raps at the door and shortly thereafter it swings open to reveal a couple of familiar faces that you were not at all anticipating seeing.

There stands Rimi, dressed in white and pastel pinks. Beside her is another girl that you know, though not as familiarly as Rimi, herself. Her name is Kokoro; never not seen with bleached blonde hair and a wild aesthetic of animal prints and vast accessories.

They both enter and immediately wrap you in affection, with strong hugs and kisses pecked to the sides and top of your head. Just what you need, right about now.

"How did you guys get back here?" you ask, still basking in the love that they're showing you. "Don't tell me you've started down the dark path of sneaking into places you know you're not supposed to be."

Rimi's hands set at her hips, a comical display of displeasure at your words and she says, "Please! We would never! But more than that, we don't need to!"

Kokoro raises a hand. "My family knows one of the directors of this production, so we have just about as much free reign of this place as you do."

"Shall we step outside to chat?" Rimi suggests, "We wouldn't want to bother the other girls during their resting time, only you."

Little does she know, their presence is precisely the sort of pick-me-up that you need. Following them out, Kokoro says something about a vending machine with a very particular cold coffee that she wants, and the three of you head down towards her intended prize. It is a less frequently traveled spot by talent and staff alike; no time for anyone to hang around and enjoy the luxury of a beverage in the hours leading up to the show. For the first time in a long time, you feel the tension dissipate from your form. Comforted by the quell of madness.

"We can speak comfortably around Kokoro," Rimi says suddenly, words that feel a little out of place and do more harm than good when it comes to the stress that you're hoping to leave behind. "She already knows everything that goes on everywhere, nothing you could tell her would be news to this one."

You look the girl over. Times spent together in the past have been little more than holding spots in line and journeys for soju and barbeque after an event. However, your trust held in Rimi is unwavering, and if she is willing to vouch, then you allow yourself to accept the fact.

"My family is very well connected," Kokoro says. "I wouldn't be able to escape it if I tried."

The smile you give her is slight and half-hearted, but you don't have it in you to offer much more beyond that.

"That said! How are you? How have things been? It hasn't been long since we last spoke but a lot has happened!" With wide eyes and a dramatic display of disbelief, Rimi shakes her head as she recounts the most obvious elephant in the room. "I mean, can you believe it? Just crazy the way all of that has played out."

Busy with her drink retrieval, Kokoro finally slips the container out from the slot and still bent down, she looks up at you and says, "It must have been a very strange conversation, huh? But I guess this is business. It's all politics, smoke and mirrors and all that, ya know? Like, we always know that's the case, and then you see it in action and it's like whoa, they'll go to any lengths to get what they want, isn't that right?"

Through the course of Kokoro's tirade, your eyebrows have flexed and pressed together on your face. It hasn't been a conscious effort on your part, and though you entered this discussion with a baseline understanding of what is about, the more she has spoken, the less you have come to understand it. Somewhere along the line, the words Kokoro has said have sounded less familiar to you, and more akin to information that you have not yet become privy to.

You understand what the three of you are talking about, but simultaneously, you have no idea what the three of you are talking about.

So, you have no choice but to inquire. Your eyes dart to Rimi—who is watching you expectantly—then back to Kokoro who is seemingly unaware and working towards enjoying her prize.

"Uh, what are we talking about?"

Rimi rolls her eyes and stamps her foot like a cartoon character. "Sunwoo! The pictures, and everything!"

"I know, I gathered that much, but…"

Silence follows. Eventually, any hint of comedic display falls from Rimi and a sense of sincere urgency takes hold instead. "Wait." Her shoulders drop all of their tension, slouching lifelessly to her sides. Cocking her head inquisitively she says, "Have you not… spoken to him?"

Your throat is dry and your eyes drop from hers, unable to maintain the contact as this topic persists.

"No, I don't think I have to explain why."

"Oh shit!"

It drops from Rimi's mouth before she has a chance to reel it back. Her hands fly over her mouth and Kokoro gasps in the aftermath of it, gently swatting at her as if to reprimand her for saying it. Reaching towards you, Rimi grips your arm tightly—almost enough to hurt—and with a kind of determination you've never seen from her before she says, "Babe, you need to talk to him, oh my god. It's not true!"

Your stomach drops before you have time to truly consider the weight of what you have just been told.

"Wha… I saw the pictures," you stammer, "We all saw them. We saw the articles, the company statement…"

After struggling for quite some time, the cap finally pops off of Kokoro's drink. She takes a sip and appears wholly unbothered by the weight of the conversation that is happening around her. A loud sigh follows her sip, like she's filming for a commercial and selling the part to perfection, and once she's finished Kokoro finds the time to attend to you.

"I mean, yeah, the photos are real in the sense that they exist and they were spotted out together." She takes another sip, enamoured by the flavor in ways that seem incredibly untimely given the gravity of what is happening to you. "It's the story around them that's not. I thought for sure you would have known this, figured this was already water under the bridge. They must be keeping a real tight leash on him then."

You close your eyes, shake your head in disbelief and just say: "Pause."

A moment is needed for you to think through the unimaginable amount of thoughts swirling around in your head. You take in a slow but deep breath, holding it inside of your lungs until you can't stand to keep it there for any longer. Your nerves settle slightly, enough to move forward with all of this without completely shutting down, bursting into tears, and ruining the incredible amount of stage make-up that is crafted upon your face.

"Can you just… Start from the beginning."

"I'll keep watch!" Rimi announces, craning her body so that she can look down the hall.

"Okay, so." Kokoro revels in another sip of her coffee drink before continuing on. "My dad works with a lot of very high-profile people, so I hear about all of the nasty business in the industry. Entertainment companies, news, politics… all of it," she says. "He's currently assigned a job working very closely with the news source that posted those photos and the article along with it, and you know, these people love to talk. They love gossip. They can't sit on a secret without it killing them. Love the attention."

Growing impatient, you say, "Can we just…"

"Right! Anyway, he was there when the story broke, and I guess it was a big deal when it happened, the office was going crazy about it! So, they went out for some drinks after work and got to talking, and apparently everyone working on the project spilled! There was a lot of correspondence with your company back and forth, and apparently it wasn't just some random paparazzi that snapped the photos and sent them in… It was your company, themselves."

The more she says, the more your heart sinks down to your gut.

"So, they get these pictures of him out with this photographer. The outing is nothing special, nothing happens. It's just a casual thing amongst colleagues but you know, you can snap a single photo of a moment and spin it to seem like anything with the right kind of story attached. Which is precisely what they did. That company paid a lot of money for this all to get out, by the way. Orchestrated the whole thing. And I can't prove this—it's just something my dad overheard in passing another day—but it seems like they did it to manufacture tension in-house." Kokoro stops, gives you a knowing look and then says, "Don't have to be the smartest person in the room to know exactly what that means."

Voice trembling, you say: "They know about us."

"Yup, and are going about breaking it up in the nastiest way they know how," Kokoro confirms. "I mean, if you think about it from their perspective, there's no other way. No-dating rules have been a thing in the industry for decades but it doesn't stop anyone from doing it anyway. If you sniff out some funny business under your roof, the only real way to ensure that it stops is to craft up a way for those people to not want anything to do with each other the natural way—good ol' emotional manipulation style."

You feel sick. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, eyes stinging with the pain of tears you're desperate to fight back. Everything hurts, straight down to your bones; body limp with the discovery that you have never been as attuned to the intricate and downright wicked willingness these people have to get whatever it is that they want.

"You're sure?" you ask. Realistically, you already know the answer to the question, but something inside of you needs to hear the confirmation one more time.

Kokoro nods. "Yeah, without a doubt. I'm really surprised he hasn't reached out about it, but my guess is that they're watching him like a hawk. He probably doesn't have free access to his phone if he hasn't."

No wonder Sunwoo never reached out once the story broke. The sickness writhes inside of you just that much more in relation to everything that has transpired since then; your feelings, your actions, things that can never be undone or taken back.

All just to find out that Sunwoo hasn't done anything, at all. Instead, he is the person with the target on his back; the first shot sent from his very own company, and the second—unbeknownst to him—fired from you.

"Someone's coming!" Rimi whisper-shouts.

Kokoro nods to her and the conversation comes to a close, but before you will allow it to do so, you grasp the sleeve of her coat into your hand and say, "Thank you, but… I need to talk to him. How do I talk to him?"

Her eyes widen. "You're asking me?" Thinking it over for a few seconds, her head bobbles in a considering sort of way as if mulling over any potential options and she says, "Are you close to anyone else in there? Someone else you trust? I can't talk to Sunwoo himself, the degrees of separation aren't far enough, but I might be able to pass a message along and start orchestrating something."

Juyeon would be willing, you know that fact well. You trust him and have seen firsthand how capable he is through missions of stealth. However, involving him in this feels too close to home—as well as other things—and so, you opt into your next best and considerably more messy option.

"Eric."

Squinting suspiciously, as if to say that you have missed the importance of this being a covert sort of going on, Kokoro relents to it and just says, "Well, alright. Eric it is, then. I'll try to talk to him and figure something out, Rimi and I will message you when we have something but it's probably for the best if we're not seen together again after this. Not until we're back in Seoul, at least."

How deep does the rabbit hole go, you wonder.

Rimi [18:47]: great news~♡ kokoro talked to eric about that client her dad works with who wants to work with him in the future and it looks like he's super open to it! we wanted to talk to him about it more later after the show, but he said something about just being way too busy with the gym tonight (¬_¬") men can be so annoying, but that's how it is! see you in seoul again soon~!

Covered in sweat, it is the first thing you see on your phone upon arriving back inside of the green room. Your heart skips, breath holding inside of your lungs out of fear that should you dare breathe, the possibility of this may disappear with it.

This is code. Obviously enough to you with the knowledge you have but not so much so that anyone who happens to see it could understand the hidden meaning behind the words. 

Unexpectedly, a hand finds your back and you jump at the fright.

Kaia swings around to settle in your line of vision with a big smile on her face and a make-up wipe in hand, always the fastest to rid herself of the excessiveness of it all.

"Great job out there tonight, you were electric," she says, "We're all going to go out for dinner and some drinks, enjoy the city a bit while we're here, tell me you'll come along with us!"

You want to say no, but there is no good excuse for not doing so. The Boyz trail behind you in their performance and are set to go on shortly, and rushing back to the hotel only ensures that you sit waiting until a later point in time where you are finally able to begin perusing the hauls for the place it is that you will seek. Truthfully, the only reason you wish to bow out is a selfish desire to be alone with your own thoughts and worries; what will happen, what has happened, and what might be waiting for you in the not so distant future.

"Of course I'll come," you say, putting all of your ample weariness on the shelf for the time being. A formidable task. "You were great, too. We all were."

Miyoung is passing by as you say it, catches ear of what you've said, and flashes you a smile as she continues on her way.

For MVNE, things couldn't be better. Little do they know how close you are to bringing it all toppling down.

You don't know Eric's manager, nor how intense he is about his line of work. All you know is that this had seemingly been his plan, and if he had set it into motion, then it must be fairly smooth going from here.

The room you have is shared with Serri and you're quite thankful for that. A perfect night for her is staying in, watching television and scrolling through her phone with little interest for much else to entertain her. She is quiet and kind, but wholly uninterested in being the life of the party—especially after a long day of travel, rehearsals, and performances.

When you say you're leaving to see what the accommodations have to offer, she barely even hums to acknowledge your words.

Circumstances are such now that you can't take any chances with anyone you may run into, and so, you are dressed accordingly. The typical wear of an idol engaged in sneaky business and you make it a point to keep your head low, not bothering to ask the front desk where the location of the gym even is. You trust you can find it on your own—these places have maps everywhere—and once you make it to the lobby, your instinct to trust your gut is instantly rewarded.

Basement level, just one more level down and just beside the pool.

You don't know what time you're meant to be here, and you don't ask Rimi for any further clarification, either. Correspondence with Eric is certainly out—not that you have a way of getting ahold of him, anyway—so all that you can hope is that their business is wrapped up and you haven't kept him waiting so long that he has already retired back to bed. It's late, most people are no longer making their way through the halls… All you can do is hope.

Down here it's musty and the scent of lingering wetness clings to the carpet that you're walking on. You pass a door for staff, and then the very next one is precisely what you are searching for.

With a racing heart that threatens to leap from your chest, you slowly push the door open.

And seated on a bench right in plain sight, is Eric.

"Your friends told me they have an exciting opportunity waiting for me, how nice of you to send them my way."

While a part of you wants to clear the distance and jam a fist into his arm, the stronger part nearly wants to break down and cry.

"Youngjae…"

His eyes go wide. "Whoa, government name. You're really in the trenches, huh?"

Fighting the floor of emotions that threaten to take hold, you bring your palms to your face and drag them downwards woefully as you make your way towards him. Eric pats the empty portion of the bench just beside him and you take your seat with a despondent plop.

"I need to talk to Sunwoo."

"You're kinda dumb, you know that? I can't believe you saw all that and really thought that what you were seeing is what you were really getting. I mean, seriously? Another woman?"

"You're not helping."

Eric reels a bit, rolls his eyes like he accepts that his badgering is not particularly wanted and says, "I'm just saying, you know that guy is crazy about you. I mean, I didn't have the proof and he hadn't told me it wasn't true yet but like… I kind of knew someone was playing games, and it wasn't him."

"You can hang me up in the city square for torture another time, but right now I need to talk to him. He doesn't have his phone?"

"Nope, at least, not without someone eyeing him while he's using it. It's kind of a nightmare, if I'm being honest. Can't send as many dick jokes as I'd typically like." You look over at him with a glare, and once again Eric realizes that his additional anecdotes are falling on deaf ears. "Alright, look… It's late enough by now that I don't think he's being hounded. We got food and some drinks after the show and then a few of us headed back in, him included. I told him I was going to come over so we could see if the theory is true that Ridiculousness is literally always showing on TV in hotels, no matter where you are or what time it is. He seemed to like that idea."

"I cannot believe you guys are actually idols," you say, "No wonder everyone likes girl groups now, instead."

Leaning his face closer to yours, Eric squints devilishly at you and says, "Be nice to me, or I won't scout the way myself to sneak you in."

His hand grips your wrist and just as swiftly, you are dragged to your feet and back towards the door.

When the elevator announces your arrival, your breath fully catches in your throat. Once again, you hold it for fear that none of this is real, that with one faulty move karma will deem your being here something that should not happen.

The silver doors slide open and Eric pops his head out.

"Nothing, it's clear. Pretty sure everyone is asleep already, managers included."

"Even for him?" you ask.

Looking back at you he says, "Yeah, they're tyrants but they're not on him twenty-four-seven, nobody gets paid enough to do that. Let's go."

Eric wanders down the hallway with the sort of nonchalant ease of a guy with absolutely nothing to lose. It must be nice, you think to yourself, walking with your body nearly curling inside of itself as if to disappear should the slightest of glances fall upon you.

"What if someone else is inside?" you ask then, nervousness making itself evident through your questioning.

He briefly glances back at you again. "Again, not paid enough."

"You guys don't room together?"

"Not anymore, perks of being in the game for a while." Eric pauses for a second and then says, "Wait, you two were friends for a while before all of this, don't you know that already?"

"I never went to his room, are you insane?"

Playfully offended, Eric tosses his hands into the air and says, "Okay, sorry. Forgot meeting at restaurants was a much safer option, as has thoroughly been demonstrated to us."

His jovialness is hardly appreciated.

The two of you turn a corner and after only a few more steps, you stop in front of a door. Neither of you move, and after a couple of long, unnecessarily drawn out moments Eric looks at you and says, "Okay. We're here. Knock."

"Is it weird that I'm scared?"

He rolls his eyes, a seemingly common reaction from him in regards to you now. "Oh my god." His fist pounds on the door—far more loudly than you think is really necessary given that this whole operation is meant not to draw attention—and then before the door even begins to draw open, Eric begins his journey back the way you came.

"You're not waiting!?" It's something in between a necessary whisper and a displeased yell, and all he gives you in reply to it is a big grin and a shrug.

Time draws on so slowly that you easily lose track of how much goes by with you perched up outside of the room. How many seconds has it been? A minute, perhaps? You don't know. Beneath your skin, your veins feel like fire in anticipation of what's to come. Maybe he's asleep, maybe Eric was wrong and the person that is soon to greet you is the angry face of a manager that somehow knew that all of this was taking place. A heavy exhale leaves you and it's shaky with uncertainty. You shouldn't be here, you can still leave… and yet, you can't. No matter what.

There's a click from behind the door and your heart nearly stops. It begins to pry open slowly, and though you aren't quite able to make out what lies beyond, the thing that does come to you is the gentle waft of warm steam and the noise beyond that grows louder as it widens.

An arm slips out, hand grasping your sweatshirt by the sleeve and forcefully dragging you inside.

What awaits you hidden away in those walls is a flurry of lips, teeth and hands.

Neither of you say a word and Sunwoo's mouth finds yours in a flash. His hands are warm and wet; hastily slipping beneath your sweater and tearing it upwards to rid you of the bothersome thing. With a pounding heart and chest that feels suffocatingly tight, you completely let go and relent to what he intends to give you; it's been far too long, you put up enough of a fight, and as far as you are concerned… This is the other side of a battle well-fought.

Beside you, the bathroom door is left ajar—a shower still running hot inside of it. The taste of beer still lingers faintly on Sunwoo's tongue as you revisit a place you have been so many times before. His skin is damp, warm; and droplets of water hopelessly cling to long, black clumps of curls that dangle in front of his eyes.

But more than anything else, he is relentless in his pursuit.

Sunwoo's fingers dig at the button of your jeans and though you make the effort to aid him in the task, it is already completed by the time your hands find their way there. His movements are hurried and clumsy; needy and rushed that aren't entirely unlike him but nothing that you have quite seen before. Teeth nip at your bottom lip and your body melts into the feeling of his hands smoothing over the skin of your sides. When your head falls back, he takes it as the perfect opportunity to drag his lips down the expanse of your throat; kissing, nipping… Maybe even marking. 

You should care. You should find the strength to take the reins of this and bring it back to a place that isn't so desperate with careless need.

But you don't.

Dragging you into the bathroom, Sunwoo's mouth barely leaves your skin even for a second. Fingers disappear beneath the top of your jeans and they are quickly shimmied from your legs, discarded and quickly forgotten. Right along with all other intimates you had been hiding underneath.

Once you are finally disrobed, the towel tied at Sunwoo's hips is the next to fall away. His hands come back up to cradle your face, the urgency behind his actions slows to nearly a halt, and he kisses you again unlike any of the times before.

It isn't want that hangs shackled behind this motion, but something far more delicate and sensitive to the touch. This is adoration, it's regret, it's something raw and exposed and meant only for you, and you, alone.

It feels like love.

Sunwoo presses you to step backwards, and so you follow suit. The water is hot and jarring to your skin as it cascades down upon you. Never letting go, the persistence once again finds its way within his motions and once chaste kisses are replaced with tongue and teeth and a need to feel you in all of the ways he has been so desperate for before.

Your palms press into the flesh of his chest and the mere amount of muscle that rests underneath. Sunwoo is overwhelming in his insistence on all things, and being a lover is no different. The air is heavy around you with moisture in a way that makes it difficult to breathe, inebriated by the combination of both it and his desire to have you.

As your touch wanders, so does his. You slip down towards his waist and settle at his hips, now starkly aware of the fact that neither of you have a single garment covering your forms. All of your shared intimacy up until this point has been quick and to the point with little time afforded to revel in the joy of exploring one another's bodies. All of this is new to you, entirely uncharted waters await.

You feel his fingertips light and gentle as they slip down the front of your body and towards the space between your legs. Sunwoo's touch is shockingly delicate given the way his lips slot against your own. The feeling of his hands on your skin, his body pressing harder, firmer against your own dizzies you nearly out of the ability to think clearly. You've wanted this for so long; tried to fight it and lied to everyone—including yourself—in an attempt to win the war waging between you.

Sliding a hand up his back, you bury fingers deep within his hair. Sunwoo groans into your open mouth as a result of the touch and the sound of him like this—the look of him with lustful, half-lidded eyes and lips plump from abuse—sends a wanting chill down your spine that all but has you melting into putty in his hands.

When he goes in to connect your lips once more, you keep the hold of his head in your hands firm, disallowing him from doing so. The thought has lingered in the darkest recesses of your mind ever since his touch fell upon you; a dutiful thing that—while ugly and untimely—simply cannot be ignored.

"I…" you begin to say, and even just that much is sputtered out in a directionless way, with no clear path to follow. Sunwoo looks at you tentatively and with unwavering interest. All that you can hope for is that what you have to say will not shutter it away—rightfully, and for good.

"I…" you start again, forcing the rest of the confession out past the painful dryness in your throat. "I slept with Juyeon." Tears begin to form but you refuse to let them come. Crying on account of your own actions feels manipulative even if the intent to be so is not truly there. Your lip trembles as you continue with the words. "After the article, the pictures… I—"

Sunwoo's face twists into a mixture of things as he looks at you: confusion, disbelief, but most of all… indifference. "I don't fucking care," he says, firm and resolute. His hands clasp your face all over again and he kisses you hard, pulls back, and then reiterates it again: "I don't fucking care about that."

Your back finds the smooth tile of the shower wall shortly thereafter, and Sunwoo's hand falls down once more  to fit between your legs. The gasp that slips away from your lips is immediately taken in by his own through fervent kisses and the ever so slight but pleased grin that twists at his mouth. Knees that feel gelatinous threaten to no longer be able to hold your weight, the arousal pooling where he touches you leaving your senses feeling stifled past anything but him. You can no longer hear the sounds of the water beating down or smell the faint hint of floral shampoo that once seemed so strong in the air; only slightly panting breaths just beside your ear and alcohol that has long since been consumed.

Sunwoo's fingers are long and slender, inching down and then slowly inside in an effort to have you melting around them. Tension drops from your shoulders as he does, your head falling back against the wall and his lips quick to taste the exposed skin there. That all-too-knowing curl follows—heel of his palm firm against the dull throb that begs for attention—this place has been visited between the two of you so many times before, and Sunwoo's expertise in the matters of having you come undone this way are fully on display.

His free hand finds your thigh and the feeling of his fingernails gently gripping into the flesh there as your body craning off the wall and harder up against his, but the pleading groan that drips from him afterwards is the final straw of your quickly dwindling sense of composure.

In your mind, the way you say his name sounds stronger than the actuality of it; broken, pathetic, and little more than a whimper.

"God, I want…"

Sunwoo doesn't finish the thought but you already know precisely what he means by it. This is quickly spiraling out of control should either of you hope to walk away from this with good decisions having been made. There is no push for more being made save for the idle desperation felt from his fingertips raking at your thigh. He wants more—knows neither of you have walked into this situation amply prepared for that—and worst of all, so do you.

And throwing all caution to the wind; a victim of being drunk with history, regret, and arousal, you find his warm, wet lips all over again to kiss him with silent, unspoken confidence and intent.

"I don't care," you whisper against them.

The reaction that follows is nothing short of a culmination of things, none of which are ill-suited for the situation at hand. Sunwoo's head falls back, eyes rolling as if some part of him had been holding out hope for the fact that you might be better than him—better than this. You're not, neither is he; and though it may be poor decision making at its finest, when his gaze drops down to find yours again, there is a sort of sinister hunger now sitting behind his eyes.

You know Sunwoo well enough to know he wouldn't dare to broach the subject on his own, but your willingness to put it on the table for yourself is simply too much for him to be able to deny.

The grip becomes strong, creating space for his hips between your legs as the hand once there moves to himself. His chest presses against your own, lips ghosting across yours as you feel the careful first push inside.

"Can't tell you no," he says softly, breath escaping him through the words as he sinks deeper into your body. "I've been dying to give you anything you want."

Feeling him bury into you, the closeness of your bodies, and the heat of your surroundings has you dizzy with need. Your hands slide up the hot, wet skin of his back with nails fast to dig in and find purchase against the muscles just below. They flex and move beneath your touch, tense with strength to hold you open for him and shifting with every slow, concentrated drive of himself into you. The friction of each drag blurring your vision, oxygen thick and hard to take into your lungs through the steam that continues to form.

Once frenzied kisses fall to the wayside in favor of open mouth panting and a repeated chorus of whines, groans and moans. Sunwoo watches your expressions intently for any hint of how to take you further as he settles into a more demanding, conscious pace. "Feel good?" he asks, voice low and labored, intonation matching with every press of his hips against yours. 

The answer is written all over your face, given away with every sound that falls away from you and every deep drag of your nails against his back. He'll likely walk away from this encounter with rows of evidence to show for the fact, and you can only hope that there's nothing in his immediate future that might cause that being known.

Even just thinking about it has his name escaping you in a desperate plea for more of him.

"Keep doing that and I'm gonna come," Sunwoo says, a hedonistic growl laced through his tone. "But I need to feel you fall apart on me first." His lips drag across the flesh of your jaw, teeth lightly sinking in as he continues fucking you through the way his words make you tighten around him. "Then I'll have you moaning my name as much as you want."

Your muscles tense, the need for release teetering on the edge of unbearable to the point that your body aches from the tension. Nails dig deeper into him, so much so that he winces at the feeling but never once relents, and taking matters into his own hands, Sunwoo presses you harder against the wall in anticipation for how unrelenting his drives become. Faster, longer, fuller strokes that have you coming undone at a breakneck pace. Any control of your volume immediately falls to the wayside and is amplified by the bathroom echo—so just as quickly, Sunwoo fits his palm snugly across your mouth.

His eyes fixate on yours, completely in tune to the feeling and movement of your body as he works to bring you over the edge. Eyes blown out with lust and need and a sort of carnal desire to have and acquire something that he has, to some degree, always believed to be his.

"Come on," he urges, "Come for me, your body's begging for it."

Once loud moans dissipate into a silent cry through your release. It shakes you, rattles your body almost painfully as it rips through you. Any concept of your surroundings completely melts away for those few, slow seconds following the intensity that wrecks your body. Sunwoo never stops, never slows as he continues to fuck you through it without so much as a falter; and the gasps you find do cuminate into a breathless, pathetic chant of his name just as he so desired.

But he can't continue through it much longer, in the haze of your immediate aftermath you can feel the shake to his strength, the tremble of his breaths as his own end rushes to find him. The once easy rhythm to his hard drives into you are quickly dissembling; his head drops, forearm pressed to the wall beside your head like the additional assistance to his stance is needed.

Watching him unravel like this is delectable in ways you never could have possibly anticipated.

"Gonna come," he whines, "I'll pull—"

"Don't."

Your insistence for otherwise has his hips stuttering, head dropping down to just beside yours as he growls through the logical resistance of it. Hands once firms against his back slide down to his hips, guiding him forward and urging him to do precisely as you have instructed.

"Fuck." The exasperation sounds punched out of his chest, aching and craving for exactly what you've offered him. His head snaps back up, the hand against the wall then curling around to lightly grip into your hair as hungry lips once again find your own. All teeth and tongue and groans into your mouth as his drives once again find the speed and depth they had before. "Want me to come inside you?" he says, words filthy and coated with venom on his tongue. "Want me to take you, want me to really make you mine?"

And the airy yes that escapes from you is just as sinful.

Confirmation is all he needs, the simple word echoing against the shower walls as Sunwoo buries himself hard and deep inside of you. Laborious pants draft over your mouth, his chest rising and falling in quick succession with every aching throb of release that shakes him. He pulls from you only just a bit before pressing forward fully again, and an anguished whimper dies in his throat for the last time.

Basking in the immediate aftermath, there is only silence now. Your chests rise and fall with the hope of finally finding the calmness of breath that you seek, and slowly breaking apart your bodies, Sunwoo hisses at the feeling of loss and then suspiciously squints at you.

"Oh, you're a freak, huh?"

You deadpan.

"Says the guy with a fire-hot possessive streak."

"Very normal kink to have, I'll have you know." He inches his face closer to yours again, lingers in the space just between your mouths and then quickly pecks a kiss there. "Sure worked for you."

Gently shoving him backwards and into the stream of water, you roll your eyes and relent to the most obvious thing of all. "I guess I should have known that the mouthiest guy I know would be no different… In other aspects."

"Yes, you should have," Sunwoo agrees, and annoyingly so. "And as much-needed as this was and a great reunification gift… I guess we've got a whole lot more talking that we need to do."

The sound of his voice in the latter half of the realization is so far from the strength and confidence displayed only moments before. Sunwoo's eyes fall away from yours like he doesn't have the courage to face you, nor the choices you have made. Juyeon had insisted that this day would come, and though you had eventually relented to accepting that fact, suppose you had expected there to be just a bit more time spanning in between. Time for it to feel further in the past, time for it to feel less like a wound still trying to scab.

You offer a small and forced smile then say, "Lets get cleaned up, I want to enjoy this for a little while longer."

Sunwoo crawls into bed beside you last, tending to the last minute prep of your final moments together like this. You are unable to spend the night here and are expected to be found in your room by the time a manager makes his way to retrieve you in the morning. You'll be tired, the wear of the long evening will certainly show on your face… But it was worth it, without a doubt in your mind.

The television flickers on and a program that you neither recognize nor understand flashes onto the screen just as the light to the room is harshly shut off. It smells faintly of him; clothing, cosmetics, fragrances scattered about as far as the eye can see with little care for the place that they happen to land. Comforting and familiar within the coffin of a secret you no longer hold.

Slipping in beside you, Sunwoo's head falls daintily to the side as he offers you a tight-lipped smile. His arm falls over the front of you—laid out on your back and spending the majority of your time staring towards the ceiling.

Tip-toeing back through the memory of how it is that the two of you arrived here.

"So," he says, and his voice is so quiet that you almost don't even hear him. "Tell me."

But there's no strength behind those words, and that sinks into your chest with a weight far heavier than anything you could have anticipated. Sunwoo wants to know because he feels like he needs to; not through jealousy or even anger, but because of the very same reason that Juyeon knew to be true.

"I was angry." Staring up at the darkness of the ceiling, from here it looks as though it can carry on forever. A part of you wishes that you could disappear into it, leaving all of this behind, but the tender curl of Sunwoo's fingertips into the flesh of your stomach remind you to be present and that being here just might be worth it, after all.

"I had actually just gotten back from meeting with my friend, one of the girls that met with Eric backstage. We talked about you. Talked about us." You pause, remembering that day. Inhaling deeply, you continue on. "I got home and the girls showed me. I mean, what else was I meant to think?"

Turning your head, your eyes find his. Light from the TV flashes across them in an almost mesmerizing way. Easy to get lost in, easy to forget that all of this has been, and will continue to be, so hard.

"So, I was hurt, and I was angry, because I thought how can he be saying all of this to me while doing this behind my back? It's not as though we've never talked about you and other women, so I figured if there would ever be someone else, you'd at least respect me enough to say as much. It just felt like a knife to the back, after everything."

"You wanted payback," Sunwoo reasons.

"Yeah, and what better way to cash in, I guess."

"Fucking my friend?" The words are jarring when you hear them despite the light and comical way that he delivers it. Sunwoo rolls his eyes, sighs, and says, "Sure, that'll do it."

"Are you mad?"

"No." Inching closer, Sunwoo's lips ghost just beside your ear to say, "I came inside you." But as if the consideration has only just found him, he reels back suddenly, startled and says, "Wait, did he…?"

You shove him with nearly enough strength to have him falling out of the bed completely.

"No! Are you insane?"

The giggle that follows is annoying and presumptuous in its intent, but true, nonetheless. Sunwoo crawls his way back to snugly fit his body against yours and says, "See, you like me. What's there to be mad about? All jokes aside though, the whole situation is shit and obviously I know how it looks, so I can't really blame you for acting out. I mean, sure, I kinda wish you didn't fuck Tall, Scary and Handsome because that's a whole lot to try and compete with, but Juyeon's nice. He's a good guy. He probably had a whole lot to say about it, too."

Your eyes shut slowly at the recollection. "Yeah, he certainly does… Think about things."

"I take solace in the fact that you had to suffer for it in some way."

In silence, the two of you lay together for many long moments. Sunwoo's finger traces shapes over the expanse of your skin idly, lost in thought much like yourself, if you had to guess as much. Your mind has been heavy since long before your arrival here and the subsequent actions taken thereafter; but now that they have occurred, your thoughts have muddled and congealed past the point of being recognizable to you.

Turning your head to look at him again, you find the courage to say the thing that maybe—for a long time now—you've really wanted to say.

It isn't permanent, just speaking it aloud, but it certainly does feel that way.

"I don't think I want to be an idol anymore."

Sunwoo's hand slowly comes to a stop.

a/n: fun fact but this shower scene was The Scene that this whole entire thing spawned from, and now we're finally here. escape by tbz the perfect listening vibes for it 😋

[beingsuneone]

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[stvllioner]

Talk to Me | k. bakugo

           Fantasy AU!Katsuki Bakugo x [GN]Reader

WARNING(S): suggestive content, angst, lack of communication, abandonment issues if you squint, name calling, toxic dynamic (they're actually a fucking hot mess), making out, shifty hands, sex innuendos, established relationship.

COUNT: 3.4K words [10 mins.]

READ MORE: masterpost [students + bakugo masterlists]

A/N: bro a good bit of this was written in like 2019 n i had to come up with something. originally, this was requested by someone ion fw no mo but i wanted to finish it lol. 😭 i didnt want it to end up in smut (like it was requested) so now you have this like… angsty-vague thing! idk lol. this will be followed by a hc part two that is more ehhhhh mature. ALSO if youre relationship is like this, do not let it be, amen. 🙏🏽🙏🏽 thank for reading. 👵🏽

“Where the fuck is she, dunce face?!” Bakugo demanded, shaking the frightened dark-haired blonde who had his signature lighten bolt streak in it. The startled warlock tries to pry himself out of the explosive man's strong grip in irritation.

“I-I don’t know! She came around here like a week ago! How am I supposed to know?!” Kaminari exclaims, tears now beading in his eyes, whining desperately wanting to get away from his angry friend. Bakugo glares deeply into Kaminari’s eyes before letting him go, not passing up the opportunity to judge the space and ignores Kaminari rambling about his potions.

“There goes this week's rent portion…” He pouts cleaning up the bottles and trying to seperate them to put off to the side as he tries to fix the mess Bakugo made.

‘If you aren’t here now, then where the hell would you be?’ Bakugo huffs in thought as he leaves the small shop and looks around the area. The man’s anger quickly continued to scale up as he tried to think of something quick. As of now, he had recently been to every place you frequented, this shop being the last resort on his hunt for you. Suddenly he has an ingenious idea, the burst of thought sending him storming back into his friend’s store once again. Kaminari jumps as the door slams open and whimpers in protest pointing an angry finger at Bakugo.

“No get out! You already cause enough damage-”

“Does it look like I give a damn?! Use your stupid orb!” Bakugo growls, marching up to the frightened warlock with his fists balled.

“It’s not an orb, I've told you that!” A pout is seen on his lips, the warlock holding a stern look as a warning. He carefully scoops up the aforementioned tool and glares at Bakugo to protect it from his wrath. Kaminari scrambles in fear when Bakugo bucks at him, not wanting to provoke the haughty man any further. “Fine, fine! But it's not going to be free, nor will I let you smash my crystal ball.”

Bakugo mutters a few curses under his breath before digging into one of his pouches. It takes a few moments before he grabs a considerable amount and slams down a shit ton of money onto the merchant's counter. Kaminari purses his lips and hesitantly leans in to look at the lump sum, raising his brow a bit at how “little” the amount is. A few more curse words and snide remarks are set against him before he happily smiles at the new total.

“Who would you like to see, kind sir?” Kaminari beams.

“Whatever, that bitch who thought she could best me.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and tries to visualize what's happening in the distant moment. His brows raise a bit as he sees the familiar scenery, opening his eyes and a few sparks run through him as he looks around almost as if he was in the moment himself.

“I wh… Um it looks like they’re-”

““They’re?” Who are they with-”

“Yeah! This is the place I found them, he could hook you up with--Bakugo?” Kirishima asks, pausing as he stares at the disastrous scene before him. His left brow quirks as he could already tell Kaminari was using his orb. He grins with a chuckle, crossing his arms. “Who are you stalking now-”

“That bitch!” Bakugo fumes, pupils turning into slits as they land upon you. You cross your arms and step back each time he stomps towards you until he has you cornered up against a wall. Kirishima is quick to pull him off, Bakugo shoving him off as he glares sharply at you. “I thought thieves aren't allowed in this part of town.” Bakugo growls without paying any attention to his friends, his boiling rage making you scoff out a laugh.

“Is that how you talk to people, fuck face?” You cross your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

Bakugo immediately goes in to lunge at you, the other men in the room moving to get between you two. “You know you took my fucking money, bitch!”

His exclamation seemingly offends the other two although it wasn't directed at them, a round of dramatic gasps sounding from them. The red haired dragon who brought you in presses his hand against Bakugo's chest to hold him back, while the warlock behind the raging barbarian takes his place in holding his arms back.

“Bakugo! What's gotten into you?!” Kirishima asks before giving you a questionable look that undeniably had a look of sympathy behind it as well.

“They took my money at the bar and never paid me back,” Bakugo bucks at you with each word, a smug grin breaking out into your lips as you suddenly remember what had happened prior to his drastic outburst. “30,000¥!”

“You make a ton of money, you've probably made it back already.” You roll your eyes in correspondence.

Recently, Bakugo has once again felt trifled by you. You and Katsuki had known each other for quite some time now, and have a long wrap sheet with each other. Truth be told, Katsuki sure as hell made up the money you had taken in no time—but that isn't the principle of what you had done. Most importantly that he let himself get played so easily, especially from you.

About two weeks ago, on the night the notorious barbarian had come back from one of his tours, he had only one thing on his mind: unwind. Of course doing that was hard with his status and all, especially from all the promoting he had been doing for months. If there was one thing he could complain about, it would be about how tedious touring is, but that's not what we're focusing on here.

We're focusing on the fact you swindled him out of his fucking money.

That night at the bar was a bittersweet one—Katsuki’s only plan was to get in and get out.

He didn't want to talk to anyone (ever) or fake entertaining conversations and all that bullshit. Hell, if it was possible he'd have to commission Kaminari to make a device of some sort to handle that shit for him in his non-communicative moods. Thankfully, when he was like this , the stingy aura that came from him usually shooed people away from him. Everyone but you.

One moment Katsuki was inhaling the sharp and tangy scent of whisky in his glass as he downed that bad boy in one gulp. When he placed his glass down and motioned for the bartender to fill another, a familiar scent that wasnt the alcoholic beverage overtook his senses. Soon enough, the pressure of someone's body was against his muscled arm and similar limbs wrapped around his forearm.

“Katsu,” You whispered in his ear, smiling deviously as he didn't even try to hide the shiver that you elicited from him. “I missed you, why didn't you tell me you were in town?” You pouted and took a seat next to him.

“I just got back, how the fuck am I supposed to tell you that, exactly?” He grumbled, taking another sip from his glass to ease his stress.

“You could've lettered me.” You take his glass and have a helping for yourself, a hiss following after as you finish your serving. “I don't know how you drink these things -”

“What do you want, Y/N?” He finally faces you and snatches the glass out your hand and slams it down on the surface for another helping. A sharp look pointed at the attendant makes them quickly go to make another glass for him.

“Come with me tonight, haven't seen you in forever.”

The suggestion easily made his cock stir. It didn't help that your newly placed hand now sat at the top of his thigh, mischievous hands softly squeezing around the area but not reaching the place he needed you most.

You always had such an easy effect on him, something he hated. Which is why you two were on some fucked up on and off relationship that had no real direction.

You two would care for each other like devoted lovers, but then the next moment you two were arguing like there was no tomorrow. You would have amazing sex, and then jealousy would ensue. Various moments on where you two would find solace in one other was always drowned out by the toxic compatibility you two had going on. Just two individuals who had a lot to give but no clue how to healthily do so.

Irredeemably so, he liked what he had with you. It was toxic for sure and everyone was sick of it except for the two of you. He wasn't even sure how it even developed into this. Unorthodoxly Katsuki was always willing to do anything for you, as you would for him. Except he has resources you didn't, especially money.

That night when he let you come over to his place without second thought is the night where the longest beef you guys had in your “relationship” started. Your original idea was to bring him back to your place but seeing how fucked up he was before you had even got to the bar made you almost feel sorry for him. You begrudgingly dealt with his slobbering and drunk self as you tended to him, periodically swatting away his shifty hands and sloppy kisses.

“Mmnnn thought you’re gonna suck it..?” Katsuki tugged at your waist and pulled you into his lap, his boner proudly pressing into your hip.

“I'm not fucking you in this condition, Katsuki.” You roll your eyes and lay him back down on his bed and somehow manage to untangle yourself from his grasp. When you stand up again you press his shoulders back and point your finger at him as if he were a disobedient child. “I'm being fucking serious! Go to bed or I'll tie you up.”

“You're not my fucking mom!” Katsuki looked you up and down with angered sass, crossing his arms and defiantly looking away with a huff.

“Good, cuz you certainly wouldn't be acting like this!”

“Don't talk shit about my mom!”

“You brought her up first you dumbass!”

With Bakugo’s stubborn nature, he ended up arguing with you until he passed out. All your other attempts beforehand were as domestic as they could be, but of course this is the way you could get him to fall asleep.

You took a few moments to watch him sleep peacefully, his face as beautiful as an angel. His eyebrows that always furrowed in tension were eased and relaxed, the small wrinkles in his forehead smoothing as he fell into slumber. His eyelashes were a luscious and gorgeous batch although being short. His mouth was slightly agape as he started to snore, his body now completely in slumber from his extenuating busy job. You carefully leaned over to close his mouth to avoid the snoring and place a chaste kiss to his forehead before pulling back. It really was lost on you why you two couldn't just function normally but that was something to figure out on another time.

You quietly but hastily put together the things that could help him for when he wakes up in the morning, even cooking him up something that could be reheated without losing its quality. You carefully set everything up on his nightstand and left a little note for him to read when he wakes up. Getting ready to leave, you realize something sticking out of the pocket he was once wearing that night. You glance at him one last time before tip toeing your way to his pants pocket and light upon your discovery.

30,000¥

The way your pupils dilated in circumference gave you expert vision in being able to examine the money, and wasted no time whatsoever counting the dollars over. Shamelessly, you made your decision fast. In record timing you were stuffing the wad of cash into your shirt and happily trotting out of his place into the young night.

The two males who devotedly choose to stay neutral in the matter moved a little, their wary expression now falling on you for your rebuttal.

You look away with a bit of shame, pouting as you do so. “I needed it for something.”

“So you wait till I'm sleeping?! What'd you even use it for!”

“That's none of your business!”

“Hell yes it is, it's my fucking money!”

Kaminari swears under his breath and pinches the bridge of his nose as you two start your yelling match, looking over at the other unlucky bystander that so happened to be there. Kirishima deeply sighs and nods as he steps back from them, his friend doing the same.

“You know what? Why don't you two go settle this in the backroom,” Kaminari yells over you both and waves an arm between you two to gather your attention. He gives a forced smile and dramatically swings his arms to motion your attention towards the hall of the shop. “I'd rather you two be a nuisance where my products and eardrums aren't in jeopardy.” Although his words are framed as a suggestion, it's imposed as a command; he respectively grabs both of you and tugs you to his ‘meditation room' (he uses it for when he sleeps on the clock) and shoves you two in there.

A pregnant silence follows you two when your fate in the enclosed place is sealed by the sound of his friend’s footsteps walking away. There's no doubt you two are locked in here, Kaminari has done that several times as you guys more than often ended up having bickering sessions in his shop. You hesitantly look up at him as you two are a few meters away from each other. You, closer to the bed as he was close to the door. When your eyes meet with his, Bakugo charges at you with conviction.

With quick steps he's right in front of you and gripping your jaw in one hand, red eyes burning into yours. Without any prior notice he leans in to press a kiss to your lips with force, his plump lips softening the blow. You groan against his mouth and immediately wrap your arms around his neck, both of you in a fight for a dominance that neither of you want to give up. Angrily fighting against each other for different reasons.

His hands greedily grip at your hips and forces you to sit down on the bed, his handling breaking the rough kiss. Heated contact between you two doesn't halt yet, but neither of you move to remove any clothes, just simply trying to get close to one another. You chase his lips as he takes pride in starving you of the pressure of his lips, his actions prompting you to grab the back of his neck and cement him on you again.

As of now his body is completely pressed against yours as you two occupy the bed, tensions rising in the warm room. This time when pulls away for air you don't protest, allowing yourself to catch up with him.

“Tell me why you're angry, hm?” Bakugo asks in a low voice, lips brushing against yours tauntingly. His hands although so used to gripping your hips so roughly held your body so tenderly, his gaze stuck on your lips and his body pressed against yours. Your silence does bring a concern to his thoughts, eye flickering up to meet yours.

Your bottom lip quivers as you can’t find yourself to speak like how you usually do, not even a toxic or sassy remark to mask how overwhelmed you felt. There's only a short moment where you wordlessly try to come up with something, maybe some pathetic excuse to mask your worries but nothing comes up. Instead, you breakdown in a sob, heart clenching in humiliation as you ca longer hide your anxiety behind toxicity and anger. Bakugo coos at your burst in emotions, enveloping you in a hug as he knew better than to press for more information. Against your will, your body succumbs to his familiar heat, face nuzzled into the comfort of his neck.

“I really would've appreciated it if you were here with me when I had my diagnosis, Katsuki.” You start off not wanting to continue, already knowing that he wouldn't like what you wanted to tell him. “I know you told me not to go alone, but… months? You didn't even tell me when you were going to be back.”

You feel your lover’s body tense up as he pulls away, his face stern as he tilts his head to meet your eyes. “You know I told you not to go alone—”

“I know but I couldn't wait anymore. It was killing me,” You solemnly look up at him for comfort.

His eyes soften immediately as you look at him and he pulls you in for a chaste kiss on your forehead, letting you rest against him as he settles for holding you tight. Bakugo wasn't good at these things, saying stuff that could make you feel better. But one thing was for sure, he liked holding you and he knew that's something you needed right now. After a few moments of collecting his thoughts he speaks to you.

“I just don't want you going through this by yourself. I'm not mad at you, okay?” Bakugo reassured you softly, large and warm hand rubbing your back as you completely leaned on him. “I know we go through some shit but I know it was selfish of me to leave so soon.” You merely nod, giving him a squeeze as you can't find any words to formulate. “I guess I was also scared to find out, but I should've been here with you instead…” Katsuki takes a few moments to gather himself, nervously biting his lip as he mutters against your hair, “I’m sorry.”

A silence falls between you two, a comfortable one albeit the circumstances and atmosphere. There were many things that needed to be talked about but a silent mutual agreement settled between you two as you calmed your chaotic energies. You couldn't even remember the last time you and Bakugo did this—just basking in each other without the verbal fights between you two. You both had to admit that it was a weird but welcoming experience. Bakugo shifts as he attempts to readjust himself, clearing his throat as he does so.

“When's the next appointment?” Bakugo breaks the silence.

“Um,” You pull yourself up from his embrace, rubbing your eyes as you gather yourself up. “Tomorrow at three o’clock.”

Bakugo seems to think for a moment as he glances at the clock on the wall, eyes later searching for a calendar. He definitely had some stuff to do tomorrow but he was willing to clear some space for you.

“... Do you want me to come?” Your boyfriend looks down at you, features softer than ever. His expression was similar to his sleeping one, his calm and delicate features being highlighted. Your pupils dilate upon being asked and you quickly nod your head, not being able to hide the flustered smile sprouting into your lips.

“O-Of course!” You hold his hand. The blonde haired male looks away flustered at how endearing you look, rolling his eyes as he hesitantly lets you hold his hand affectionately.

“Oi, quit acting like that.”

“Like what?! Don't ruin the moment!”

“Acting all soft n’ shit, it's weird!”

“Don't fricken start with me, Mr. “I Don't Want You to Go Through This Alone!””

On the other side of the door, two nosy friends have their ears pressed against the door, a questionable glance being met as they slowly retreat from the door. Kaminari does a motion with his hand to silently unlock the door, a small sigh coming from Kirishima as he crosses his arms.

“You think they're good?” He whispers, not risking being heard from the couple in the room.

Kaminari snorts and leads the way back to his shop with a shrug, “They'll be just fine.”

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[librathefangirl]

actually scratch the list i need to know EVERYTHING

Well, let me tell you about a few more then. Let's talk about these:

The Loss in Victory (Emptiness)

Losing a Part of Me (Is Like Losing a Part of You)

Mel with tiny horns and wings

As the Night Falls

Pirate Melban AU

The Loss in Victory (Emptiness)

This is the Zeldris angst fic I was talking about back in... September, I think it was? It's supposed to be for Day 31 of Whumptober, and the prompt "Emptiness". (So the actual fic title is just "The Loss in Victory"). It's a hurt/no comfort fic taking place during the First Holy War. Basically, Zeldris struggles with the news that Meliodas is dead, and also struggles with the fact that it is actually hitting him that hard because:

He should be happy about this, yet all he felt was like someone had taken a big chunk of him out, leaving an empty nothingness where his hearts were supposed to be.

And here is a longer sneak peek:

As Zeldris made his way down the hallways, they parted before him. Anyone standing in his way quickly moved out of the way, letting him pass without any hesitation. If anything, it seemed people kept their distance from him more now than ever. Perhaps it was due to the urgency of his walk, or the tension in his posture, or maybe it was whatever showed across his face. Zeldris couldn’t tell. It was all a blur to him, nothing but the insistent need to get away, get away, get away! He was desperately holding onto the last shred of his composure like a lifeline. He was exposed out here, feeling the gazes of everybody he passed. He had to get away, to his own room. There, at least, nobody was watching, granting him the small piece of privacy he needed right now.

Losing a Part of Me (Is Like Losing a Part of You)

And here we have another demon bros angst fic. Also focused on the effect of the war/them being on different sides/Meliodas' curse. This time with focus on Meliodas. You can actually thank @hihopelessromantics for binging my attention to a post about Meliodas and Ludociel having scars from training their brothers, which is what inspired this fic. I saw that post and mind immediately went "oh I can make angst out of this".

So, as for the fic, it focuses on this idea of Meliodas having these scars that Zeldris gave him. Scars that he treasure a lot. They remind him of moments he got to have with Zel as kids, of training together or sneaking off from the castle together or even just finding a chance to goof of together. Big or small, they are moments he got to have with his little brother, where he got to be a brother to Zeldris. They mean a lot to him but - uh oh! - the DK and his assholery enters the scene. With the curse, Meliodas body is healed every time he is resurrected, including the scars from Zeldris. Meliodas struggles with losing the scars Zeldris gave him, feeling like he is losing those good memories of them together, and losing Zeldris in a way.

(Unfortunately, no sneak peek available for this one).

Mel with tiny horns and wings

Now onto happier - oh wait, this one is actually angstier than I originally planned... Anyway! This one is inspired by a conversation I had with @zorria about Meliodas with horns and wings. I wanted to write about that, but also make it really tiny and adorable.

Meliodas has an impressive set of wings and horns, but, given the whole hiding he is a demon thing, he needs to hide them. Problem is, he can't actually make them go away. All he can do is shrink them (think the sizes of a baby goat or tiny fairies). Normally, his hair and clothes are enough to hide them, but the Sins discover them anyway. And here the angst comes!

Actually, this was supposed to be a silly little fic about Mel having some adorable demon features with a side of angst in the form of his fear of them rejecting him. But then Meliodas fell in a lake! Okay, the falling in the lake was always going to be a part of the fic because I needed to get him wet, but the amount of angst that came with it was unplanned. As was my mind deciding that what if in this au Meliodas can't swim...

Sneak peek time! I've actually already shared a snippet from this one (here), so here's another one:

Which was the real problem that sunny late afternoon, wasn’t it? Meliodas couldn’t swim. If you have ever been in a situation where you are faced with the possibility that you could die right then and there, you know the feeling. The pure panic that overtakes your body. The way you fight with everything you have; frantically, desperately, without control. Meliodas had been there too many times. He’d also gone one step further, been faced with the inevitable realization that he was going to die. The moment where there was no fight left, the resigned acceptance. Maybe that had gotten worse with the years. If Meliodas died, he wouldn’t really die. Even if he accepted it, even if he actually welcomed it. There was no end to this life.

As the Night Falls

This is another fic inspired by Zorria. It's about Meliodas struggling with his nightmares (because we all know that man's gotta have nightmares after his 3,000+ years of hell), featuring a worried Elizabeth and a sleeping Tristan.

Not sure I have much more to say about this one, so here's a sneak peek:

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, we’re okay. I promise, we’re okay.” Elizabeth’s voice was a light to a dark cave, wrapping around him like a blanket and zapping away all the tension. Meliodas slumped back against the leg of the bed, head thumping lightly against the wall. Gods, it felt like he hadn’t slept all night – but clearly he had. His eyes finally decided to focus, giving him a close-up of Elizabeth’s worried frown as she crouched before him.

Actually I couldn't decide on which sneak peek to share, so here's another:

Meliodas tried to not react to the mild accusation, but she saw right through him anyway. Elizabeth always seemed to know what was going through his head. After all this time, he couldn’t hide. She sighed softly, sitting down on the floor beside him. “I worry about you, you know,” she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We all do.” Meliodas grimaced at that; he had thought he’d hidden it better than that. Clearly he’d lost his touch. He supposed sleep deprivation did that to you.

Pirate Melban AU

Now I know you know a bit what this one's about. But I don't think I've actually talked about specific plot, just the general concept of Pirate!Ban and Merman!Meliodas. So, let me tell you a little about the start of our story. We meet Ban, a young pirate with a foul mouth and a bad habit of getting himself into trouble, who is (once again) finding himself without a ship to call home. While running from the consequences of his actions (literally), Ban ends up taking shelter in a cave. He's not the only one though, because further into the cave he comes across a wounded merman. Ban has grown up hearing (horror) stories of the merfolk living deep in the sea, so what if he ends up a little too curious about the stranger - he can't help it, especially after discovering the he has an attitude to match Ban's own.

A new little sneak peek (previous one can be found here):

How the fuck did he keep getting himself into these situations? Not that his one was his fault. Nope. The captain was the one who'd decided to cut his losses - meaning Ban - once they got into port. Ungrateful son of a bitch! Ban had given years to the Raven and now he was going to be left with nothing – just like that? Fuck no! So, Ban had helped himself to a little – okay maybe not so little – of their loot. So what? He'd helped get that, he deserved his cut.

Actually, since it's probably gonna be a long while until this fic is finished (I'm not the best at focusing on long multichapter fics lol), here's another sneak peek too:

With the first roar of thunder sounding, Ban surveyed his safe haven for the night. It really was an ugly cave. Cracks ran over the walls, splitting the brownish-gray color. From the outside, the cave had looked unstable, but inside it seemed sturdy and strong. Well, at least he wouldn't get crushed to death. Ban pushed off from the wall, walking further into the cave. It wasn't that big, narrowing off into a smaller tunnel the further he walked. A section of the ceiling suddenly dipped down, causing Ban to smack his head right into it. "AH fuck! Shit, that hurt."

WIP Tag/Ask Game!

[hyperfixation-or-death]

I’m heading to bed now, but please talk about parallels. We’re going to be besties bro

>:) yes, absolutely, thank you-

Here is a list of the most recent parallels thoughts I have had yesterday alone:

I want to put Romane Berthauds in a time loop. That's the entire thought. (I mean, I've drafted a post about this, but it. Does not sound normal. So.)

I could make a fic with four chapters, each of which features the small child version of a main character somehow ending up time traveling to interact with the present versions of the other three. It would not explain how that happened whatsoever, except that each chapter takes place in a different timeline. I almost certainly will not actually write this, but it's a fun idea.

Stupid AU where it’s the parallels characters but the plot and setting are. uh. Vaguely based on Greek mythology. (I have a bad habit of combining my interests into weird ideas, and I've been listening to Epic the musical, so now the parallels kids get swords. And angst, I guess.)

On that note, my Percy Jackson-inspired AU (which is separate from the aforementioned AU and also less nonsensical) has recently been haunting me to the point of me turning in a scene from it for a creative writing assignment a few weeks ago. I ended up writing double the amount I was supposed to, but I also got a hundred on the assignment, so. Who's the real winner here.

The direct contrast between Romane and Victor's first interactions with their respective parents after traveling back. "Mom. It's me. […] Mom, look at me. It's me. I'm your daughter. I can tell you recognize me." Romane being so confident that her mom will recognize her. She knows her mom will see her. She knows her mom will see her and know it's her. Whereas, Victor is fully confident that his dad won't recognize him. He's taking his opportunity to take out his frustrations with his father under the cover of anonymity. And he's halfway right, because Arnaud doesn't recognize him until Victor's up in his face, yelling about how Arnaud has always wanted to hit him. (Not even going to get into that; that's a whole separate post.) But when his dad recognizes him, Victor isn't expecting it. Idk where I was going with this.

Several years post-canon fic idea where the main four move in together after high school. I don't have any reasoning other than I think it would be neat. I have half of one scene and half of another scene written for this. (We could add them and pretend I've written an entire scene, but…there wouldn't be much point to doing that.)

I think the "I remember everything" line in the finale was…not true. I think the kids thought they did, for a few minutes. Then they realized there were some gaps in their memories, and some things were less sharp than others. And Romane, Victor, and Bilal all get flashbacks, but Bilal's are definitely the hardest to deal with, since his memories are the most complex due to the timeline stuff.

I think that, while post-canon Bilal does have a genuine interest in physics, he also knows that a huge reason he went into physics in the other timeline was to try and save Sam and Victor. And now that he doesn't need to do that anymore, he's left unsure of whether he should still go in that direction. It's a different timeline; he's supposed to do things differently, right? But then again, he doesn't want to make decisions based just on that, and he does like the idea of studying physics. But there's also the irrational worry that something like the night in the bunker could happen again, which he knows doesn't make a lot of sense, but the thought is still there. So his thoughts kind of spiral for a little while on the topic of career. He eventually decides to stick with the physics route, though, after giving it a lot of thought.

Something about Victor and Sam being only a year apart, while Romane and Camille are farther apart in age? Yeah, I had no further thoughts on that, I just think about sibling dynamics a lot.

I think Sam has a lot of issues as a result of his parents and their whole family dynamic, they just show up a lot more subtly than Victor's parental issues do.

I wish Sofia and Victor interacted more in the show.

I think Victor Deslandes has ADHD. (I say this as if I haven't said it a thousand times already) also I think he's aromantic. I already made posts about both headcanons but I like talking, so I'm mentioning them again!

and while we're restating headcanons: the same way victor's powers kind of serve as a tangible outlet for his emotions, with anger usually being the catalyst - i think romane's powers do the same thing, but the catalyst with her powers is more of a freeze response to panic. i think i have a post where i word this better, somewhere? idk.

also i think it's interesting how a version of alice and arnaud realized the true extent of the emotional damage they had caused, but it's just before the kids travel back. so sam and victor never get the full resolution there, because their parents will never know what the tension in their family actually led to. and i have specific thoughts on how this lack of satisfying closure is kind of a theme with victor's relationship with his parents, but i unfortunately don't have time to expand on that right now. but. the thoughts are somewhere in my drafts, so maybe i'll expand on that concept later.

And then there's the thoughts that are always in the back of my mind, which are: I would die for the parallels kids. I need to rewatch parallels. hey I think maybe I'll cry over Romane and Victor's friendship in particular today.

anyways, those are just a few of yesterday's thoughts off the top of my head. i'm sure i have better thoughts that i can't remember, but i wrote most of this at like three AM, so my thoughts are. scattered.

thanks for the ask!!! :)

[parcfermekisses]

Sneak peek of some end-of-season Dando I'm mired in...

Lando messages daily – sometimes hourly – and almost always selfies. Flipping the bird with a grin, pouting on a golf course, standing in front of a mirror with his thumb hooked in the waistband of his joggers and briefs to pull them down over his hip bone. Daniel thinks incessantly about replying but doesn't.

'Busy time with family' he eventually sends back, four days late, along with a blurry phone photo of small hands on a game controller. 'This isn't my area of expertise'

‘facetime? watcha playing? i know a game or two. could help'

‘they don’t need any pointers on how to hand me my arse, but thanks’ It’s crueller than he means it to be, but he sends it all the same. He doesn’t have the energy to finesse it into something palatable. Three little dots bounce at the bottom of the screen for a while then disappear. There’s no message.

The next day he sits on the ground outside and puts the camera between his feet, tips it slightly forward and presses the shutter release to take a photo of the earth, sun baked and red and falling out of focus. It’s a quick and dirty trick that makes him feel like he knows what he’s doing. He sends it to Lando. The dots bounce almost immediately and the anticipation in his gut makes him slightly nauseous.

‘nice one’

Two words. They don't make him feel any less sick, and he fights the urge to send message after message begging Lando to come and visit, to call, to send more photos, anything, please, anything, anything, anything to make him feel less alone. He watches the bottom of the chat relentlessly, willing the dots to reappear. They don’t.

[j4y-lvr]

❝the demon's bet❞— lee heeseung.

SYNOPSIS. Since you'd found the demon in your room the unfaithful night of your catastrophe of a birthday, consisting that you discovered you were half-demon, to getting rejected. You had spent a substantial amount of time with him, gradually growing fond of the boy as he escorted you to parties as your date. While you denied your affection for him and remained oblivious that he'd taken a distinct liking to you, he'd caught himself in a predicament. He required you in order to win his bet. You were his gamble.

GENRE. demon!au, halfblood!au, friends to lovers!au fluff, angst, suggestive

PAIRING. demon!heeseung x fem!reader ft. jaemin of nct dream, yoon and sieun of stayc, yeonjun, soobin and beomgyu of txt, yeji and ryujin of itzy, karina of aespa, minghao of seventeen.

WARNING. cursing, cliché at times, heeseung is flirty, sunghoon is kinda rude, jaemins an asshole, nicknames like "princess" or "love", kissing, heated makeout scene, sexual tension, sexual jokes, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of food.

WORD COUNT. 16.8k

TAGLIST. @jayswannabebae @cyuuupid @aizzon @only2jake @chilledbit @jwisungzen

NOTE. this took more time than expected, it was supposed to be 10k— this is somewhat a gift for my sister though I'm a few days late. I'm wondering if I should turn this into a series since I'm on break. hint: vampire!jungwon

Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated!

Today was like any day in summer. You got off the bed groggily, striding past the stand-alone mirror you owned, catching a glimpse of your tired self, perceiving something black attached at the back. You brushed it off, assuming your eyes were playing tricks on you from not getting adequate rest. 

Disregarding it, you shuffled down the stairs, "good morning mum," you muttered a greeting, a loud yawn escaping your mouth. You brought a hand to your mouth, continuously yawning from exhaustion as your mother wished you back with a happy birthday y/n.

Right, it's your birthday, your long-awaited 19th birthday. You didn't think much of it, shrugging it off like another day over the years, except stuffing your face with a bunch of cake.

"good morning dad," you pause to look at similar raven wings peeking from your father's back. "what's that?" you examined bluntly. "oh, good morning and happy birthday, y/n," he responded as you quipped a brief thank you and lingered remaining for his answer, your foot thumping on the carpeted floor impatiently.

"dad," You called out again, watching him bake your cake, professionally slicing a thin layer from the freshly baked pastry. "hmm?" He hummed back in outmost concentration towards the cake, your cake.

"what's with the wings? It's my birthday and April fools day, not Halloween," You said, rolling your eyes, a scoff emitting from the part of your lips. Your birthday occurred on the agonizing day of perpetual stunts and antics from those around.

Another reason you took no one seriously during your birthday is being pranked every year by friends or family. Yes, it was fun for them but was it always fun for you? Not really, but you kept those thoughts to yourself, not wanting to burden others.

You thought you did a reasonably good job of keeping thoughts to yourself. You lived life regularly as the typical routine of being l,n y/n that rolled in a loop like a busted cassette tape. 

You got satisfactory grades, have a good family, live in an ornate house, have good friends, and whatnot. Though you yearned for something, for anything out of the mundane but never performed upon them, enabling them to simmer down and constantly build in your heart.

Assuming you received what you desired as your father answers your query with a laugh, "right, you can see them now..." he says, the laughter dying down as you gape at him, looking blank.

"what,"

Your mom stepped in, setting her hand on your shoulder." you see, y/n, you're extraordinary," she expressed, a small smile grazing her lips as thousands of questions spewed through your head. 

What do they suggest by that? You went about your whole life believing you were the most normal individual in existence, having engrained it in your subconscious for years together, yet your mom spoke the contradictory?

"yeah, sure," You sneered sarcastically. Dad had altered his focus from the cake to you before he voiced the unpredictable, "you're half-demon, y/n."

Silence followed as your jaw fell open. Whether this was some sick April fools joke or not, you didn't like it.

"say psych," you say, a wry chuckle leaving your now dry mouth, a tight-lipped smile trickling past your front, expression screaming for help. Your mom darted to her husband, communicating a knowing gaze of sympathy, speechlessness sustaining the atmosphere.

What the fuck.

Acknowledging that your dad's how you're half demon-ness, your mom is the mortal part of the sum. Not sparing them another glance, you dash up to your room. You stood tall in front of the mirror, taking in the picture of yourself with ebony wings. 

Straining your back to the mirror, you twist your head back to get a better view. You possessed black wings, along the ends dipped in red. You adjusted your long black, luscious hair that you'd grown in years together, feeling that it looked plain.

You had to admit it looked cool, but that doesn't dismiss the fact that you were lied to, not by just your family, but it turns out it included your dearest friends, whom you thought you knew everything about until you didn't.

Jayoon, your best friend, appeared by your side. She took a seat on your bed, a genuine smile painted across her lips. "hi y/n, happy birthday," She spoke, handing you her gift. You smiled at her but then stared at the same raven wings you and your dad had, your smile dropping. "so you knew too," You sigh, disappointment building inside you.

The now identified demon realized you were referring to her wings, the girl slumping her head low, "please tell me this is some sick prank everyone's in on," you say, hoping it was a twisted prank. 

The girl gapes, thinking of what to convey to make you feel better by even the slightest, "i would've told you, but there are reasons no one could tell you," she pauses, pitying your disheveled form.

"but hey, you have cool wings with red ends!" she expressed cheerfully, concluding the sentence that admired your jet black wings.

"thanks, but that's the merely good thing," you convey, gaze turning frigid, "imagine being lied to by your friends and family for 19 years straight," you retort, annoyed. You head out of your room with a hoodie thrown over you, leaving yoon to herself in the confines of the four walls.

Your parents turn to you as you head down the stairs, noting the sullen expression written all over your face, deciding not to mention anything, allowing you to be. You were relieved for that, stepping out the front door.

Where were you going? To do something you never thought you'd be doing.

You checked yourself out in the mirror, a smirk spreading past the expanse of your lips, a hand ruffling through your newly styled hair. You appear satisfied with getting rid of the old, long dusky hair you had, instead opting for shoulder-length hair with freshly dyed ruby tips.

It complemented your raven wings though no one except you or your kind could identify it. You loved how it looked, promptly paying for the cut, stuffing your hands in the pockets of the navy blue hoodie you threw over yourself earlier.

A sigh left your lips as you rang the doorbell to your house's front door. You sucked in an amount of breath through your teeth, marveling how everyone would react to your hair. Especially your mother, you knew she adored your long silky hair, unable to envision her reaction to the short bob you decked with crimson flares.

The door opened, revealing the friend you walked out on previously, "where were you— your hair..." she drawled out, staring at you. You tried your best to act nonchalant as yoon stood there with her jaws wide open. You strode past her and inside the door. "i love your new haircut so much!" she exclaimed, following you inside. 

"i was out acting on impulse, and I know it looks good," you express, trying hard to suppress the smile threatening to bloom on your lips at the favorable reaction.

Whipping yourself around, you watch your mother, with no particular expression painted on her face as she walks up to you. Her eyes saddened, though she considered her best to muster a smile, "it looks good," she forced out. 

Your father partially denounces himself for informing you so late, observing the scene unfold. He puffs out a sough, continuing to ice your cake, giving it that finishing touch.

Hours after celebrating your birthday with your family and Yoon's family, the two being close since you both were in diapers. It struck 11 pm as you think back to today morning, ruffling the feathers on your wings, wondering how you even came into existence.

Mesmerized by your wings, you wondered if you had demon powers, subsequently extending your arm and aiming at the vase on your table, trying to activate your so-called power, laughing at yourself for attempting.

Your phone chimed, lighting up the screen. You picked it up to see it was a text from 'jaem<3,' you smiled at the contact name, clicking on the drop-down to reveal his message. It read, "meet me in 10?" 

You pondered whether you should sneak out, texting him back with a "sure." 

jaem<3 meet me in 10?

you sure.

You threw on the hoodie he had left behind, hoping he would recognize it and possibly realize your feelings for him.

You quietly hopped out the window, climbing down the house, trying not to make noise to go undetected. Successfully doing so, landing to the ground, sprinting off to the accustomed place you'd meet up with him.

You took notice of all the grotesque creatures around you, some of them staring at you intently, watching the gooey and disgusting things eat on the dead remains. It must come with being half-demon, I guess.

Shrugging them off, hurrying off quickly, and were thankful when you spotted him and his friends.

Just great. 

Internally groaning, knowing he was chaotic with his friends, the Dreamies, as they proclaimed themselves. Approaching them rather slowly, you wave at jaemin, who reciprocates your movements, his smile gradually dropping. 

You greet the others before turning to the one who beckoned you here. You found the boy staring at your back intensely, his face contorting in horror, the others remaining deadly silent.

"you're a demon." jaemin voices out his thoughts, looking at you coldly. "what," you ask, confused, thinking humans couldn't see the wings? 

He facepalms, "i can see your wings y/n, at least conceal them from other supernaturals," he expresses, distressed.

"but why can you see them-" you inquire, undoubtedly lost. Jaemin sighs in distaste, "i despise your kind. I'm an angel," he says, displaying his wings at the snap of his fingers, his white feathers contrasting your raven ones.

"how did you..." you ask, your doe eyes widening. The boy flings his head back in irritation, then craning it to the side, "you must be the infamous half-human, half-demon," he speaks with venom dripping off his tongue, no longer the sweet boy you used to know.

"welcome to the supernatural side of things, y/n," he declares, spreading his arms wide open to refer to the surroundings, his face lit in a grim smile, which soon contorted into nothing as he continued, "and goodbye." 

He walked away with his pale wings following as he dispersed them in a second. Alongside his friend's whom you also supposed were angels, followed him. He then turned back, "oh right, happy birthday, I guess," he uttered with a sarcastic laugh leaving his mouth.

You watched as his figure slowly disappeared, tears pricking your glassy orbs, "what a bastard," you spoke bitterly, ripping the hoodie off of you, hurling it to the ground, the tears streaming down.

You dropped to your knees, sobbing to yourself sadly. What a way to end your birthday, seeing as the time ticked to 11:20 pm, wishing you had never snuck out, hoping you were never half-demon.

Was it an impractical idea? Probably, but you didn't give two shits about it. You needed a distraction, seizing the bottle by its neck, attaching it to your mouth, and downing the alcoholic liquid whole to the ultimate drop.

"cheers to me," you said to no one, your head drooping to the table where you positioned your sullen self. You were legal by this day, so you thought it would only be fitting to consume away what happened before, from today morning till now, hoping it was an eluded dream.

"happy birthday to me," you drank the remaining liquid, feeling the burn spread through your chest. It tasted bitter, but you enjoyed it, fancied the burn, comprehending why people would declare it a pleasantest distraction.

You dragged yourself off the chair, out of place, and stepped in the direction of your house in the harsh weather because you abandoned the hoodie as Na fucking Jaemin abandoned you for your difference. No, you weren't going to think of him, don't.

You smacked yourself for being scarcely reminded of him, right after he's the one that drove you to this condition, yet you dared to think of him?! Never again.

The night was frigid, causing you to shiver, bearing the eyes of the supernaturals around you, scrutinizing your every step. You were frightened, walking more briskly, hoping you'd be back quicker. The likes of you secluded at midnight didn't sound secure.

Soon your steps turned into running, almost tripping and falling face-first to the ground a handful of times because you were tipsy, though you managed not to.

Minutes after your desperate attempt to get home, you arrive in front of the house. You panted heavily, feeling dizzy and sweaty. You climb back up your home despite being more difficult this time around, as you weren't sober.

You somehow managed to get yourself up to your room's window, holding onto dear life at the sill. You hauled yourself up while intoxicated was something, feeling like a workout.

Setting one foot to get the entirety of you up and at the window, you heaved tirelessly, handling your body onto the sill. You tried pushing the window open to enter inside, but it wouldn't budge.

Now, was your window stuck because of the harsh wind blowing? Maybe. Were you stuck outside your room in the cold by your window? Absolutely.

The day just got worse again. You're outside your window at 11:50 pm because the window won't open up. You scarcely hoped someone would magically unlock the window, though that involved you getting caught for sneaking out. And someone did.

A bright crimson-colored portal materialized in the middle of your room, firey flames surrounding the oval-shaped contraption, a towering, slender man with his black wings spread, walking through and into your room.

In the present circumstances, you didn't know if you were intoxicated, to the point you hallucinated this handsome boy inside your room while you stood out in the cold, drooling over this unknown person who broke into your room.

The unknown boy looked around your disordered room, searching for its owner, who was woefully past the window, crouching amidst the chilly night. You knocked on the window in an attempt to gain his attention.

It worked as he turned towards the source of noise, apprehending your stuck figure beyond the confines of the room. He questioned whether you were a burglar, but he quickly dismissed those thoughts, examining your drowsy expression.

You lightly smacked the window, though your light smack caused you to fly into your room, landing face-first onto the carpet floors, right in front of the unknown man's feet. You groaned in pain, mentally feeling embarrassed.

You got yourself up, massaging your nose from the pain. The lengthy ordeal emitted a hearty laugh falling from the part of his lips, "you humans are quite entertaining," he lets out in between his fits of laughter.

His laughter was then cut short by the footsteps of someone approaching your room, sending you into a frenzy. You shoved the taller man, whom you still had no idea about, into your wardrobe, a finger reaching up to your lips, signaling him to keep quiet.

You turned to the door, which cracked open to reveal your mother, looking sleepy, "what happened? I heard a loud thud from below," she questioned, as you mustered your best to act normal, "oh, I just misstepped, mom," you lied through your teeth, putting on a commercial smile.

Your mother didn't inquire further, muttering something to be more careful and a goodnight, which you returned. You ushered her out hurriedly, shutting the door instantly. You then rushed over to the wardrobe, where you had shoved the poor unsuspecting man in.

You saw him skimming through your entire wardrobe, holding those funny big nose beard glasses you were gifted last year. "now, what do we have here," he said, slipping the glasses on himself, causing you to snicker, though you were quiet.

He sat in your wardrobe, snuggled in your pair of clothes, feeling at home from the warmness. Though, the boy emitted more warmth himself. "are you going to stay there forever?" you deadpanned.

"oh right," he murmurs as he gets out of the wardrobe as you make your way to your bed, legs aching from all the excessive exercise you went through today, sitting down.

You pat beside you, asking him to sit next to you. If you were completely sober, you would've never asked him to sit next to you, let alone let him be in the same room as you.

"why are you here," you ask, thinking straight for once, turning to him, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. "oh, I just wanted to see the scandalous half-blood myself," he replies. "i have quite the reputation without myself knowing for 19 years," you state, laughing sorrowly.

Your head falls on his arm, compelling him to flinch as he realizes you're drunk, "you decide to get drunk on the day you finally can," he mutters, enough for you to hear. 

"would you mind giving me the map," you start knowingly. A smirk treaded past your soft lips that the demon opposite you couldn't help but unknowingly stare. "what map?" the boy quires, disoriented.

"oh, the map to your heart, demon boy," you state, laughing a bit too hard as you fell onto him, being drunk and unable to steady yourself, "oh wow, you smell nice too—" you utter, taking in his scent. He was glad you couldn't catch the flush on his cheeks as you tripped into his chest.

"you know I'm a demon?" he inquires, noticing you could comprehend your surroundings, despite being inebriated, "yes, I can see you pretty raven wings with golden tips, mystery boy," you speak. Your honesty voicing your thoughts, still in his embrace, feeling the warmth cast off him.

"they're pretty?" he questions, this being the first someone ever complimented his wings, considering he never paid attention to them. "very pretty," you communicate, as your eyes closed in comfort. He looks down at you, "yeah, pretty," he mutters, admiring your looks as you lean against his chest.

He checks his wristwatch, seeing the time tick 11:59 pm. He tightens you in his hold impulsively, giving you a proper hug, his hot breath fanning against your ear while he whispers a "happy birthday, y/n"

"y/n, wake up!"

You groan. Why did you have to wake up from the best slumber you've ever heard, snuggling into the soft and warm pillow harder, trying to go back to sleep. 

Until you hear a, "you're comfortable, huh" he spoke, a smirk lifting on his lips. You jump at his voice, coming face to face with the unknown boy from last night on your bed as you use his shirtless chest as a pillow.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE—" his large hand covers your mouth, "do you want them to find out? You snuck out, got drunk, had a boy in your room at midnight, and that you slept next to him?" 

You go numb at his point, "that's a good girl," he says as he removes his hand from over your mouth, coming to cup your right cheek instead, "now be a darling, and please get up and off of me," he forces while you practically throw yourself to your feet, your cheeks reddening.

"why didn't you leave last night, and why were you here in the first place, and I don't even know your name-" you say frantically, losing your mind, but then he gets up and stops you. His hands gripped your shoulders firmly, with his eyes glowing red with gold lining as he soothed, "calm down, princess,"

You obeyed, staring right into his eyes, watching the red and gold fade from his pupil's return to their original brown color. You slightly back down from the glower which was previously present on his face. 

Noticing the sudden fear written over your face, he sighs, releasing his grip from your shoulders, "i'll answer your questions, don't worry." he states, thinking where to start from, "you asked me to stay, that's why I didn't leave."

He set you down on your bed, tucking you in the covers, a hand smoothing over your forehead and hair as he watched you breathe, sleeping peacefully, smiling at the sight.

He can't help but care for you, but you were his gamble. He knows he shouldn't get attached. You were in the equation because of the stupid bet. A bet he made with the boys, he didn't want to hurt you either.

As if you read his mind, you tugged on the hand he had placed on your forehead, grasping onto it, "don't go," you mumbled, half-asleep, "don't lie to me like the others," you say with a hardening look. He blanks at what to do before succumbing to your wishes, laying beside and taking you in his embrace.

He really shouldn't be doing this.

He explained in one breath while you stared at him, wondering why he cares for you, deciding not to question it. "plus, you looked fast asleep on my chest," he jokes, snickering.

"i was here because I did want to see the infamous, l/n y/n, being the daughter of a mortal and demon, that was the right hand to lucifer," he said, telling you things you didn't know as your jaw fell. "right hand to lucifer?!" you exclaimed in shock, the boy realizing he said something you didn't know.

"also, put on your shirt, stop flexing," you voice, turning to the side to look away from his toned abdomen belonging to the man who stood opposite off. "aww, is princess shy," he teasingly says. 

"it's fine, darling. Take a good look," he declares while standing still, shirtless. You conjure your courage, taking a step to him, hand now pressed on his chest, as your arm nestled behind his neck.

"you were saying?" you speak as your eyes never leave him, "two can play that game, princess," he retorts as he pulls you closer by your waist, your entire body against him.

"quite the daring one, you are," he conveys as a smirk finds its way to his lips. "now what if I," you drag, inching closer, painfully slow, towards his lips, stopping when you were centimeters apart.

"y/n!" your mother shouts from outside your door, eyes widening, shoving him into the tiny space between your bed and the wall, eliciting a groan from the boy.

Your mother barges through your door, "what are you doing?! Come eat breakfast." You ease your mom out the door that you'd be down as soon as you freshen up.

Shutting the door behind you, you grab the shirt the boy wore earlier that night, extending an arm to help him up, merely for him to reject the offer. "at least let me know when you're going to shove me in tiny places," he sneers.

He hastily snatched the shirt from you, slipping it on, flexing abdominal muscles. You were staring, you admit, quickly looking away before he could catch you in the act.

He summons the portal once more, giving you one last look, then walking through it. "the name's, heeseung," he adds boastfully, disappearing into the doorway.

->⌚<-

You wince at the recollection of your previous actions, whacking yourself for even asking such a question. It wasn't your business, and why did you care? you don't know much yourself—

You couldn't help but stop the boy, grabbing him by the arm and halting him from going further into the portal. He whipped his head to you, looking questioningly at you.

"yes, princess?" he queries, your hand still clasped 'round his arm, "when," you pause, debating whether you should be asking him this. He hums, letting you know he's listening, "when can I see again," you squeak as fast as possible, eyes meeting the floor, getting embarrassed at the 'question,'

You peek at him, only to see a beautiful smile adorning his lips, the corners of his eyes wrinkling from the smile, nose scrunching up. He was laughing, what, a sight, despite being a demon, he smiled like an angel.

"you can see me when you think of me again, princess," he says, stifling his laughter, then smiling sweetly, "i should get going," he curtly speaks, your grip on his arm releasing naturally.

You shy a smile on your face, his hand patting your head and officially stepping into the unknown side. Your smile dropped as he disappeared. You don't know him, nor should you care.

That was what you told yourself, but the more you seemed to think of him, going as far as venting about the formerly mentioned to your best friends and yoon(after she apologized for lying, that is.)

"so you slept with him?" yoon points out bluntly. Yeonjun, another demon, sat beside you in a mass group of friends who snickered at Yoon's comment. 

"i didn't sleep with him— i slept beside him!" you exclaimed, defending yourself, everyone laughing their hearts out, "you still used his bare chest as your pillow, y/n," sieun sounds from the other corner of the room. 

You look at her with a defeated expression, unable to evade the situation, "so, what now, you romance the hell out of a demon?" beomgyu comments playfully, the others bursting into yet another fit of laughter, this being the nth time since you gave them a rundown of events.

You hadn't told them the demon's name because maybe one of them knew him and could tell him everything you were saying and feeling. You trusted your friends, but sometimes, they were a bit too impatient with the whole waiting process.

"you could ask him to be your date to the supernaturals party," yeji suggests, being one of the helpful ones. Your entire group of friends was demons or mere mortals, making you feel at ease not having to lie to them about being a half-blood.

"but I can't contact him," you retort with a sad sigh before yoon reminds you how you could summon him, though you couldn't fathom the idea.

The others practically forced you to beckon his presence right now, though it'd just been a day since you last saw him. You tried to gather your thoughts amidst the forced silence, everyone watching you summon the demon.

You tried your best to fail at calling his presence as the group decided they would leave after you summoned the boy, whom you wished didn't show up. 

You sat still, with your eyes closed, conjuring his company. You peeled your pupils open after a minute, sighing fakely, "see, it didn't work," you stop while faking your sadness.

"now leave," you finish, ushering each of your friends out the front door and making your way back to your room. You stand in the middle of the mess they had created, overstaying their welcome.

"so much for, 'you can see me when you think of me again, princess," you mock, ending with a scoff. "oh princess, I'm right here," you feel a whisper next to you while you yelp and spin around in defense with your arms in an X and one leg raised to kick.

"what are you—" you get cut off, realizing he hopped out of your wardrobe, "what were you doing in my wardrobe," you ponder, staring blankly at him.

"you summoned me," he starts, causing a smile to lift on your lips at the success, "in your wardrobe." Just like that, your smile dropped, "i did?"

"yeah, you should be more specific as to where, darling,"

You shove the butterflies erupting in your stomach to your side, "you called?" he utters in the stillness as you open your mouth to reply, "oh, are you free this Saturday?" you inquire, not wanting to bother him if he were busy.

"yeah, I am," he replies to your avail, you proceeding to ask him to the event, "would you like to accompany me to an event?" you say, hoping he'd agree, though you didn't know why you wanted him to agree so bad. 

"under one condition," he begins, fulfilling the bet between him and the boys, determined to win. Your ears perk up, eager to hear his condition, "which is," you ask expectantly.

He leans closer to you, the wall almost at your back, allowing you to examine his attractive facial features. "strike a deal with me, sweetheart," he says slyly, a smug smile carrying forth as he officially pins you up against the wall, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

The demon boy towered over you, watching as your cheeks flushed bright red, the way you failed to maintain eye contact with him, almost snickering at how easy it was to get your flustered, cute. 

He stared down at you, appreciating how stunning you looked at that moment, feeling tranced by you. You liquefied underneath his gaze, his orbs flashing an intense, deep red, which you admired in pure fascination.

Your heart pounded precipitously in your ribcage, especially the mortal part of your soul, whether it was a thing. "sure," you spew hurriedly, peeling the boy away from you.

You stood to the side breathing harshly, feeling breathless because of heeseung. "then yes, I'll join you at your party and think of what you want as part of your deal," he quips, smiling sheepishly.

"my part of the deal? How does that benefit you, heeseung?" you doubt, eyeing him suspiciously, unable to blindly trust him, could you? He was someone you met once.

"a smart one, you are," he says, smiling down at his palms, the same sweeping his hair slickly, looking effortlessly stunning, "most don't care how it benefits me. They accept my deal mindlessly, y/n," 

"but this benefits me because I make deals as a demon," he lets out, and immediately his soft expression drops, hardening into a sober one.

"now, if you excuse me, I have some business to tend to," he curtly speaks, stepping to you and patting your head for no particular reason, "bye y/n, see you later if you wish to summon me," he adds, chortling, walking through his demon portal.

->⌚<-

You lay on your mattress, bored out of your mind. It was a Thursday, and you required something to do or an individual to pester since either of two would cure your short-term boredom.

And you have just the person in your mind, heeseung. So you summon him yet again, this time in the middle of your room. He appears wordless with a controller in hand, moving the joysticks feverishly.

"i was in the middle of something—" he conveys, placing the controller on your table, a sigh escaping his lips, "you called?" he says, arching an eyebrow.

"heeseung," you begin seriously, catching him by surprise, "i'm bored." He deadpans at your words, sighing, a hand swiping over his face from disbelief. "ok, let's see," he starts, then thinking of the things the two of you could do.

He asks you if you've tried using your demon powers before, which you shake your head, indicating you haven't. He chuckles and tells you to stand up.

"do you know how to extend your wings?" He asks, glancing over to your bewildered state, "nope, never," he snorts in response. 

"concentrate on your back where your wings branch from, think of squeezing them tight together, and they'll do the same and think if letting them extremely free and they'll expand," he communicates, depicting each word, making sure you comprehended it.

"want to try and fly?" He inquires, pushing you to nod your head impatiently, like a lost puppy. He guides you on what to do, making you understand him.

You soon rose in the air with the help of your wings, flapping them to keep yourself up in the air, enjoying the feeling. The demon stood beside you with arms extended to you in caution.

"ok, now how do I stop," you ask, pupils darting to the boy on the ground, who questioningly stares at you, "when you want to stop, just stop," he voices, pointing out the obvious.

"no, I can't stop. I think I'll tumble to the floor instead," you retort, though you were about 20 centimeters away from your carpeted grounds in the room.

"fine, I'll let you down," he says with a big smile playing on his lips, his arms wrapping around your sides, gripping onto you firmly, "you can stop now," heeseung states as you follow along. 

He places you on the floor, his arms remaining at your midriff, "you didn't go tumbling to the floor, " he teases, your arms locating their way to encase around him. Comfortable silence followed, both in each other's hold.

"you have beautiful wings, especially the red tips," the demon mumbles in the silence as you mutter a thank you. Then your curiosity peaks, causing you to ask, "why are the tips all in different hues? Do they represent something?" 

You were the inquisitive kitten he thought you ought to be. "yeah, they represent status," he voices, thinking of something, staring into the air, "so humanity isn't the only ones crazy about putting each other on a pedestal, huh," you think out loud, making the demon chuckle.

"the hues represent status, gold being the highest, red following as second, with purple at the third rank and green at the last rank," he speaks, perceiving his wings while touching the golden tips.

"wait, so you're the highest rank?" you ask, wondering if you were being nosy by asking this. You glance over while the demon's pupils dive into a darker shade, "hm, yes, but I had to work for it. Nothing is free," he answers, a wry look casting over.

Maybe you shouldn't have asked.

"have you thought of a deal yet?" heeseung queries you, changing the topic. "no, I don't have anything in mind," you halt. Perhaps you did have something in your mind, though you brush it off. It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and not to waste it on an individual so lousy.

"so you do have something in mind," he says sneakily, his eyes fading from red, returning to the original hazel-like color, a small smile playing on his soft lips. "did you just invade my head—" You question, offended at the invasion in your thoughts.

Your mind was a dangerous domain, where he could encounter lots of things you wouldn't want him to, opinions like, 'oh heeseung looks fine today—' There, you merely did it again. 

"thanks for the compliment, mortal," he retorts with a smirk creeping on his face sheepishly.

"you did not," you clamor, riled up by the boy, springing to your feet, reaching for him as he ran around your room. You chased him around with no signs of stopping or losing. The two weren't an option.

That was until he halted as you ran right into him, smacking your head on his shoulder. You stood clasping your head in momentary pain, completely forgetting that you leaned against the very demon you chased around seconds ago.

Seeking his chance at some playful revenge, he picked you by the waist, tickling you endlessly. You, suspended in the air with the boy's hands tickling your sides, causing you to burst into a fit of forced laughter at the fondling.

The tickling stops when another portal heeseung usual enters and exits through shows up, revealing another boy who was equally good looking.

"so this is what you're doing," the unknown boy says, voicing his dissatisfaction while heeseung lets you down, turning towards the boy, expression blank.

"if you had something to tell me, you could've called me, you know," heeseung deadpans, "I wanted to know where you've been disappearing," the mysterious boy halts, sparing one glance over to you.

"only to find you, messing around with the mere half-demon, whom we asked you to make a—" the unknown was interrupted by the raven-haired boy, "sunghoon," he warned, a slight growl escaping his mouth, eyes shining crimson.

Heeseung glances over at you, seeing you remained unfazed by the other boy named sunghoon, "i'll see you later," he says, bidding you goodbye, then wordlessly walking over to sunghoon.

The two then depart through another portal, leaving you feeling perplexed. What was sunghoon talking about? you ponder, flopping onto your mattress, feeling down.

He sighed, sitting on the chair in his room, thoughts of earlier popping in his head. After he left your room with sunghoon, making it to their dorm assigned to them in hell, he lashed out at the boy.

Hand gripping his shoulder aggressively as he harshly pushed the boy backward, plunging him to the floor. Yet through all this, sunghoon wore a lopsided smirk, "doesn't she have you wrapped around her finger. You're fighting me, your brother,"

That provoked him to lose his temper, smashing his balled fist into his jaw, eliciting a groan from the blond boy. "do you even know what you're doing right now, fighting me for sole half-blood? pathetic." 

"don't call her that. she has a name," heeseung seethes through his clenched teeth, slightly lisping his pronunciation. The fistfight ended when jay found the two tacklings each other on the floor of their living room.

Jay pushed two off of one another, sighing. He scolded them for fighting. When he asked why the two fought, sunghoon ran his mouth about his beliefs that heeseung was fooling around with the very half-blood they dared him to make a deal.

"he's been fooling around with that half-blood," sunghoon said nonchalantly, glaring at heeseung, "she has a name," he retorts, trying to keep his composure. 

"fine, he's jesting around with y/n," he repeats, making the black-haired stare in utter disbelief, holding the urge to plunge at him. "is it true that you've been hanging out with the half-blood?" Jay asks, directing it to heeseung.

"yes, to gain her trust, then appeal a deal with her," he calmly replies to jay, shutting his eyes after finishing his sentence. 

"if that's all, can I leave?" heeseung asks impatiently, irritation adorning his face. Jay nodded, driving him to turn in his heels, striding towards his given room in the dorm he shared with the others.

Sunghoon clasped onto his hand, preventing him from doing so, "what now," heeseung questions, his tone turning intenser than anticipated. "it's not that I want to fight you. I'm just telling you that you're falling for her without knowing," the blond says, eyes darting about, brooding on how to continue.

"you know the punishment that comes with falling for a mortal," he finishes, letting go of his hand, walking away without another word before a voice emits, "who's falling for a mortal?"

Everyone halts at their motions, panning around to the origin of said voice while their eyes wide, jaws hung open. "lucifer?" jay queries, bewildered as to what he was doing here, at their dorm.

"yes, 'tis I, lucifer," the mighty devil expresses as if he jumped out of ancient times. "no need to be extra," sunghoon mutters, the others left to think that he fears nothing.

"let me have my moment, you party-pooper," lucifer spoke, feigning hurt in his tone while the demons in the hall cringed at his words, "father, it's not 2015 anymore. Get with the recent trends," they all utter in unison.

He was their father, having created them and bringing them to life to serve him and his rule. "whatever," mutters lucifer, eyes lighting in the realization that he hadn't found out who was falling for a mere mortal.

"right, now who here is in love with a human?" the almightly devil inquires, staring at the three present. "no one, I was just entertaining a client, yet someone found it far too much," heeseung sassily quips, glowering sunghoon's way.

Lucifer analyzed the scene of the raven-haired boy scowling at the other, "oh, you have a new client? who?" the ruler asks, perking up his ears in curiosity.

The boy in question could only sough before answering, "my new client is y/n," he finishes saying, knowing the inevitable was coming next.

"the l/n y/n, Jiheon's daughter?" the demon clarifies, earning a yes from the three. "So he's off probation," he says, face then contorting in glee, "i can call him over then," he declares, then strolling off, bidding goodbye, overjoyed to beckon his dear demon friend.

Now that the boy thought about it, the whole ordeal was way too funny for him, laughing at the recollection, curing his brief sorrow. Though, you remained riddled with the burdening sentiment, much unlike him.

Before you knew it, it was Saturday. The day you'd meet heeseung and go to the party as your date. You squealed at the thought. Maybe, you had taken a particular liking to the demon boy because, look at him, who wouldn't? The demon boy acts and looks like a literal angel. 

Speak of the devil, word-for-word, as the said boy strode through his open portal while you smoothed out the dress you chose to wear.

The dress held a red pigment, covered with a thin black mesh-like material lined over, ending at your knees. You paired it with a black cropped graphic t-shirt over it, completing the outfit with black boots, hanging red earrings, and not much makeup. Your theme was red and black. (Outfit can be of your choice, as well.)

It was austere, but you looked gorgeous to yourself and the boy that stood behind you, lips parted as he examined you. Then pulled a smile, "someone dressed up," he paused to glance at you again mid-sentence, "but you look lovely y/n, from the red tips in your hair and wings to your outfit, everything."

You flushed at his words, feeling things you presumable shouldn't. Your eyes rake over his outfit, noting that the two of you were unintentionally color-coordinated, provoking a chuckle from you.

He styled a silk red button-up shirt that hugged him in all the right places, black jeans, a gold plated wristwatch, and dress shoes. Nothing extensive, yet the demon looked too captivating, to the point you ogled at him before snapping to your sense.

"ok, so, do I put it simply or try to be well with words?" you inquire, orbs darting to his face, glad he hadn't read your mind this time. He giggles, pushing his lips to form words, "put it simply, princess, we don't have all day, do we?"

You compose yourself, relaxing to an extent, "to put it simply, you look hot," you mused, immediately shying away, unable to maintain the composure you held moments ago, making the boy burst out laughing.

You join him, soon clutching onto your stomach as you two chortled in the evening of 6 pm, the time inching closer towards when you had to present at the invite.

Small talk carried the air till the time ticked 7 pm, when your friend yoon ringed you up, implying you to hurry because she couldn't wait to witness you and your handsome demon friend, or like she stated, boyfriend.

"shall we go, heeseung?" you ask, glimpsing at the boy you fiddled with his ring his finger wore, "oh? yeah, sure," he stated with his eyes doe and round, just like Bambi, adorable.

The boy was round-eyed because of you. The way his name rolled off your tongue like it was meant to, his stomach backflipping in response, he knew something was up with him, internally facepalming at his condition.

He whips open a portal, jesting you to go inside, but you take his hand in yours, "no, let's go together," you convey, gripping onto his hand. "if you insist," heeseung replies, stepping into the portal, hand-in-hand with you.

You arrived at the venue another step away, surprised at how fast the commute was. "that was fast," you express your thoughts, making the boy chuckle.

The walk inside the venue was quiet as you looked at the place, spotting your friends. You stride to your group of friends, tugging heeseung with you.

Your friends are more than surprised to see the raven-haired boy, "would you look at that, y/n has a date," sieun comments, while beomgyu wipes his invisible tears, "she grew up so fast," he spoke, feigning sadness.

Yeonjun approaches you, asking if you could speak to him for a second, and he means you alone. You agree, letting your demon date know that you'd be back.

He pulls you to the corner of the already bustling hall, filled with supernaturals, though a few humans showed up. "what's up," you query nonchalantly.

"what's up? y/n you can't be serious, you just strode in with the lee heeseung, yet you ask me that?" yeonjun spoke, face consorting in incredulity, handing you a cigar that you mindlessly accepted, paying more attention to what he said next.

"are you sure he isn't messing around with you or anything,"

"no, of course not. why do you say," you answer, sounding ruder than you expected, "do you even know who that man is?" he says, while you pull a blank.

He scoffs, "he's not someone you should be with, y/n. he's lucifer's number one cr—" Yeonjun was interrupted by heeseung, a hand pushing him back slightly, making him lose his balance.

"next time you talk shit about me, you might lose a few teeth," he warns, clasping your wrist in his and pulling you away from yeonjun.

Moments earlier, heeseung couldn't stand seeing you talking to yeonjun, knowing the demon you stood talking to, getting him riled up with rage. He wondered if it were the fact he could hear yeonjun speak about him to you or if he were plain jealous. 

He hauled you to the table assorted with drinks and other refreshments and handed you one as he took one himself, sipping on it, the annoyance clear as daylight in his actions.

"what was that," you state, absolutely bewildered by his measures, your hand pocketing the roll your friend, the same boy heeseung shoved away and tugged you with him.

"don't mind anything your friend said earlier, princess," he says, clearly not wanting to speak of the subject further. You don't linger on the question any longer, taking a sip of the drink, noticing it contains alcohol.

You wince in remembrance of the previous night you got drunk. You felt the need to mention that you were a lightweight to heeseung, "i can't get drunk," the silk-shirted boy spoke.

"oh, I didn't know that," you respond, falling into a typical conversation with the boy, sometimes giggling. The others joined in, yeonjun presumably keeping his distance from you for the night. 

The doors creaking open, earning your attention, stepped in the one that rejected you for your demon side, na jaemin. By his side was karina, someone you had grown to hate because of her two-sided nature. She had had numerous flings with multiple guys, jaemin falling for the sweet exterior like many others.

You told yourself that you wouldn't bother, moreover didn't care that he fell for her or anything about him. That's what you assumed, yet why were you burning inside. Were you jealous? Were you enraged because he chose her over you? You couldn't answer your question, head dropping to glance at your feet.

"i have a deal in mind," you blurt out, grasping heeseung's attention, which was on the two formerly mentioned, connecting the dots that the boy who just walked in had something to do with you. Namely, being the one that rejected you on your birthday.

"you do?" he asked in confirmation, clearing off that it wasn't an intoxicating thought. You nodded in response, much to his dismay. The demon couldn't help but wonder why he felt down at the thought you had an idea in mind.

Nonetheless, he pulled your drowsy state out of the massive building, walking to the behind as you leaned against the wall for support. "what do you have in mind," he asks, waiting for a reply, seeing the cigar peek out of your pocket.

He held the stick in his hand, examing it. He wasn't one to smoke, not that it'd affect him anyway; he was a demon. You drape your arm on one of his shoulders, making him peer up at you from the cigarette.

"i do have something in mind. It might be lousy to say this," you start, your intense gaze rendering the silk adorned to get slightly nervous, a first. 

You weren't sure if it was because you were intoxicated or not, but the demon boy appeared attractive under the dims of the street lamp, face stout. "you look pretty," you manage to voice, though you barely wavered along the lines.

"so do you, y/n," he says, accepting the compliment, pointer finger summons a small amount of fire above it, holding it to the cigarette. A makeshift lighter, how convenient. "get to the point," he cuts short, retaining the roll between his parted, soft lips.

You bore your eyes at the scene, eyeing him clutch a drag of it. He scrunched his nose at the smoke entering his system, pulling it away from his ever so, plump lips. 

You reached for it yourself, solely for him to place it between his mouth again, taking another whiff before coughing and flinging it down, his foot burying the bud to the ground. The cigar was much to his distaste. That moment is when you think you'd lost it, he was pushing your buttons.

A scoff eliciting from you, you balled his shirt in your fist, yanking him closer, your orbs growing scarlet. He watched the little act in astonishment. Oh, weren't you the brazen one?

You release the grip on his shirt. You, instead, snaking your arms 'round his neck, choosing to shift your weight on your tiptoes. You elevated yourself to his eye level, the left side of your red wore lips stretching up, exposing a canine glistening in the low lights.

Now was his chance to get flustered, spotting the red tint bloom on his front to the tip of his ears. No one could anticipate your upcoming actions, splitting the tight smirk that carried. The weighty atmosphere tensed,

"can I kiss you?"

The night was dead quiet, enough to hear the devil in question gulp harshly. To say he was flustered was an understatement. He wanted to consent to it. Was it wrong? Possibly, recalling Sunghoon's words, he could confirm the blond was right.

Yet it didn't matter right now because what was wrong felt right. 

You pressed a swift chaste kiss to his lips, setting the two on fire, molding them into one figure. You move, breathily whispering in his ear, sending chills down his spine. You whispered the contents of your deal to him.

You allow yourself down, toes aching from upholding your body. Standing on the palm of your feet, you bear-hugged the demon, yawning sleepily, the situation seeming all too familiar.

The demon wished he hadn't heard the contents of your deal, hoping the time between the two could last longer. Your words and actions differed. Holding onto the false hope that'd it change, that maybe you realize what he felt when he hadn't himself till now.

He carried you on his back, walking back into the venue as you slept soundly, unaware of your prior motions. The demon boy let her friends know of your departure and began to leave.

He would've strode out the door without batting an eye anywhere else. However, why did he stand before the one who shattered your heart? Why did he plummet a punch to his jaw while the other didn't counter?

He watched as the boy spoke ill mannerly of y/n, making his blood boil, so he trod to him and loaded a punch, "keep her name out of your mouth," he clamored as the audience collectively gasped.

Will Smith— 

Heeseung slammed the main door shut, opting to walk you home because he required time to sort out his thoughts. A sigh fled his lips. The demon had quite a lot on his plate at the very moment.

Advancing to the front door, he rang the bell though time clocked to midnight. The door panned, revealing one of lucifer's best men. The boy hadn't realized that y/n's father, Jiheon, was one of the best.

"come in, heeseung," Jiheon said, pivoting to the side and allowing the demon to enter inside. "how've you been, sir?" heeseung anxiously initiated. He hadn't seen the reputed devil in years since his abeyance.

"fine, it felt like a nice break," he spoke, staring at his daughter, who, heeseung had placed onto the couch, fast asleep. "what about you," he inquired, returning the query to him.

"i'm okay, i've made steady progress," the silk-shirted voiced, eyes darting around, apprehensive at the sudden occurrence. Jiheon hummed, "I can see that you've made it to the highest," heeseung responded while curtly nodding along.

"my daughter's quite a handful, isn't she? maybe I should've told her earlier," he spoke, mumbling the last part, "no, she has a lot on her mind, sir," heeseung answered, his gaze fleeting to your slumber state.

"a lot on her mind? can I suppose you might be contributing to those thoughts," Jiheon conveyed, quirking his eyebrow and chuckling. He sighed, continuing to the matter at hand. 

"she's been avoiding me these days, though I know it is my fault," he paused, spilling his worries to the much younger, "just don't break hurt her, heeseung," he finished, patting the boy on the shoulder, strolling away.

"sir, how—" the inexperienced demon trailed off, wide-eyed, stirring a laugh from Jiheon. "it's written all over your face. i was once just like you," he said, a small smile prevalent on his lips.

The raven-haired watched as the older strode into his room, "goodnight, sir," he said, picking up the asleep girl in his arms, up to her room, and onto her mattress. He placed her in the comfort of her covers, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "goodnight, princess."

It had been days since the party, and the whole commotion of heeseung punching jaemin spread like wildfire. You'd confronted the demon for doing so yet, and heeseung ignored your question, changing the topic.

He had taken out a day before, strolling through the city with each other. You enjoyed your time with him growing fond of his company, though you weren't to get too attached as this was merely contractual.

You laid on the mattress, napping at 4 pm, tucked in your warm and comfortable bed, with no worries as you dream, light breaths leaving you softly.

Opposing your dozed off state, entered the raven-haired boy through his portal, observing the girl's sleeping state, and then pouted. The latter had got bored, coming to spend his time with you.

Though he couldn't change your feelings towards the one he now despised, he hoped that maybe, spending his time with you would, hopefully, make you return his feelings.

He steps over to her bed, watching you in your slumber with your lips jutted out naturally, witnessing your adorable state. The raven-haired whips out his phone, capturing as your eyelids fell over your orbs, the sunlight illuminating your rested face, setting the picture as his lock screen, beaming at it.

The boy leans down to you, moving the stray strands of her hair out of your face and tucks them behind your ears, pushing his lips together and leaving a feather-like kiss on your forehead.

It was now a habit when it came to you, becoming a rather genuine reaction whenever he saw you napping, unable to stop himself from kissing your forehead, not that you'd know of it.

The train of thoughts was interrupted by your sudden action of seizing his arm and jolting him towards you with great strength of someone asleep.

Due to her rash motions, heeseung toppled over onto you, arms supporting himself up on either side of you, trapping you in his frame while you were unaware and visited dreamland. 

Heeseung couldn't help but stare at your face, gazes running over your captivating features. Though their current position seemed all too scandalous, he wore a smile, sighing in relief as you didn't wake from your restful state.

But of course, someone just had to open her door at that instant, the one in question being her dad, Jiheon. He stood at the door frame, witnessing the scene before him, lips part with a shocked expression. 

His eyebrows then furrowed while his surprise turned into bitterness, "sir, I can explain this is not what it looks like—" the boy blabbered hurriedly to save himself.

Shaking his head in disapproval, "speak later, boy, get off my daughter right now," Jiheon ordered, the older demon's eyes flashing gold, warning the boy to do as said or face the consequences.

He pushed himself off, falling onto her bed, forearms supporting his upper body as he got off. But no, your arms wrapped around him again, drawing him into your embrace.

He deadpanned, out of all times, now? heeseung looked up at your father, eyes pleading for help, "sir, do I wake her up?" he voices, whispering. The latter nods, finding himself fighting a smile because his daughter was just like her mother, he thought while internally chuckling.

The demon boy taps on her shoulder, earning no response, a sigh escaping his lips. Your father walked over, holding onto your shoulder, slightly pushing on it merely to receive a whine.

"qhy does everyone wish to wake me when I'm asleep on this comfortable pillow," you drawl, heeseung refraining from the laugh bubbling in his chest.

"and last time the pillow turned out to be the demon boy, heeseung," you convey to your father, whom you assume is listening, but then it dawns on you, what if it's him?

To your horror, it was indeed heeseung who wore a pained expression, it pointing over to your dad, who stood right behind you. You shouted once again, arms and legs acting on their own as they shoved the demon boy off and into the tiny expanse between your bed and the wall, eliciting a groan from him. 

"could you please stop pushing me here, it's the second time, and other times you pushed me in your wardrobe, and continue to summon me in your wardrobe and push me there for what joy, y/n?" He enunciates exasperated, your father looking at you with eyebrow arched, "poor boy," he expressed.

"y/n get dressed; we're paying a visit to an old friend of mine," your dad states, looking at you, expectant for an answer. "do I have to come?" you grumble, drawing a stern yes from your dad.

A buzzing comes from heeseung, causing the boy to delve his hand into his pocket. He retrieved the device that rang profusely, piercing through the calm air, startling you, making a mental note to get his number later.

"hello," he began to the receiving end of the line earning a soft reply from the gadget as he stood in the room, "what do you mean you almost burnt the place down trying to make bungeoppang?!" heeseung exclaimed into the phone, jaw craned open.

Silence followed from the raven-haired present in your room, your father's expression shifting to amusement, "who's lucy?" the curious boy questioned, gaining a chuckle from your dad. "lucy is lucifer? why would you call father that, niki," he spoke in confirmation, head tilting to the side.

"he wanted to see me?" he replied, hearing what 'niki' had to say, their conversation blurring to you, paying no mind to it, staring into the distance, lost.

You gain your composure when he bids you and your dad a curt goodbye in a hurried matter, leaving you to wonder if this has anything to do with 'lucy' as you previously collected.

You smoothed down your pearly white dress, glancing at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, thinking which side to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You pondered over it, deciding that not pleating your hair would be the best, how he'd— No, you'd like it. To make it clear, you're making yourself look presentable for your dad's companion, not the demon boy, whom you have a slim chance of running into because daddy's dear friend resides in hell.

The chances of running into the tall man were probable, but you weren't doing this for him, you told yourself, taking in your austere yet stunning reflection, smiling in satisfaction.

You wore a simple, white, frilled dress, wearing a simple gold heart necklace yoon had given you. Earrings hung near aside your vibrant dyed red hair. You did look alluring.

"shall we leave, y/n?" Your mother calls from below the stairs, peering through the open crack as you nod, clutching onto your white purse, concluding your outfit from head to toe.

You made your way down, greeting your parents with a grin, "someone dressed up," jests your mom, a giggle accompanying her sentence, making the corners of your eyes crinkle up while you show a cheeky gummy smile.

->⌚<-

Moments later, you find yourself situated in the confines of hell itself, in a lavish-looking building, the interior decorated elegantly contrasting the image of hell.

Admiring the insides, you then settle down on the couch in what you presumed was the living room. A man stepped out of the hall opposite the one you walked through, seemingly talking to someone behind him, striding to where you and your parents sat.

"i wasn't expecting guests today, jiheon," said the older yet fine-looking figure, smiling lightly, acknowledging glancing at you and your mother, which you returned.

"would you all like some ramen?" asked the unknown demon man, whom you suppose was your dad's friend. A questioning look drew upon your father's face, provoking the demon to ramble about how he wasn't expecting guests. 

Jiheon laughed in amazement at the little rant, "you're still the same as before." The man turned back to face someone you still couldn't see, "make a lot," He said sternly, "and good," he added, then attending to his so unexpected guests. "yeah, yeah, you brought me here from my client for that after all, " the person responds.

Yet your orbs stay glued to the boy that exited the hall, presuming he walked to the kitchen in a black button-up paired with Persian blue slacks and tousled wet raven hair, was indeed heeseung.

That was hot.

You gasped mentally while your gaze shifted to the floor. "y/n?" you hear your mother speak, gaining your attention from the ebony-haired, rendering your head jerking up and greet the demon, "l/n y/n." You perceive the demon smirk from your peripheral vision.

You excuse yourself minutes after, attempting to locate where the kitchen could be, earning a chuckle from the devil, whom you learned was lucifer, himself, which made you gasp. But, heeseung was the matter at hand.

"he's over there," He spoke, pointing across from the couch. The living room and kitchen had quite a stretch though the area was exposed, making it visible to the ones in the living room.

You find yourself in the kitchen after following the direction. You watch the demon boy aimlessly scroll on his phone, hair suspending over his orbs while the water boiled.

"what are you doing here?" You inquire, heeseung not sparing you a glance, making your heart drop, requiring the other's attention, "you heard earlier, lucy called," He spoke, mocking niki.

You hum in response, thinking as you initiate a conversation with him, your mother glimpsing at the two every once in a while and cooing silently to herself. How cute, she must've thought, hearing the bickering from the counter.

Your hand advances towards the boiling pot of water, taking the uncooked ramen cakes and placing them in the water. heeseung stares at your wordlessly, pupils questioning everything you did, "what are you doing,"

"what does it look like, huh? I'm assisting you, duh," you state, turning away from him and to the stove. Yet no, you can't have it go your way when he's present. He spurs you around, his large hands clasping over both your wrists, compelling your back to the plane of the stove.

"don't do anything," he warns, his grip tightening as you try to wiggle your way to freedom. You whine a 'why' annoyed that he restricted all movement with one hand.

"because you're clumsy, and you'll make a mess," he spoke, his dominant hand that went on cooking for you, lucy, and his guests. You struggle to free yourself from his grasp, granted he felt aggravated.

"stop it," he commanded, his eyes glowering down at you, the tip of your nose brushing against his chin as your orbs nervously darted to his, but you mask it beneath. A smile creeps to your face, breathing out a "no."

You irk him yet again, a tired sigh leaving from heeseung as he stares into your eyes void of any emotion, "attempt anything one more time, and I will tie your hands together,"

"kinky,"

He accepts defeat, a sough leaving from the part of his mouth, inclining his head onto your shoulder, hands still grasped tightly by the demon. "do not," he said with a flat tone, on the verge of ripping his hair out, most definitely wasn't concerned about balding.

The bickering continues while you enjoy noting his troubled face. Unable to halt your antics on the raven-haired demon, he soon gave up, serving the ramen into bowls of 5. Though his much larger hand still enclosed your hands between his, "let go,"

"no," he voiced, a smirk lifting on his countenance.

You did what you could to free yourself from the grip, and you succeeded, at the cost of the ramen's broth splashing all over you and heeseung. Pupils wide, you stood while your pearly white dress was now stained.

He rolled his eyes, "this is why I advised you to stop," he tsks. Your mother stifled a laugh from the other side, muttering, "this is why I never allow her in my kitchen." He placed the bowls full of ramen for his father, lucy, and your parents, then turned to you with an audible sigh, eyes raking over your now dirtied dress.

"come with me," he spoke, excusing himself and then walking off into one of the various halls, expecting you to trail behind him, which you did, in silence. You gawked at the countless pieces of expensive decor set about the walls.

The austere dressed stated the obvious, "hell is loaded with cash while others are stolen—" he paused, "from the sinners that nabbed them in the first place." he ended, a laugh trickling from his chest, making you beam. Eyes still glued to the multiple decorations which either purchased or looted, you dashed straight into a broad back, the owner sparing you a glance.

His hand clutched 'round your forearm, tugging you beside him, "that's my room," he pointed forward to the door blocking your entry. "your point is?" you voiced, finding the situation normal by the number of times you had summoned him to your room.

"you realize that you'd be alone, in my room with a guy, and it'd be the two of us," he deadpans, burning holes onto the side of your head, "isn't that usually how? I always summon you in my room, alone too," you retort, peering up at the boy in puzzlement.

"this is different, y/n," he conveyed, accompanied by the shaking his head, "how is this any different, heeseung?" you genuinely queried, the clueless look plastered all over your expression. He gazed longingly at you, "should I show you how," he breathed out near your ear, a glint of mischievousness visible in his pupils.

"why not," 

Daring.

The doors of his room open with a push, smug front playing on his face as you willing step inside, hearing the door shut behind you, standing before the demon boy. You gape into his eyes, wanting to witness what he'd do, "isn't this suggesting,"

He hummed, urging you to the wall beside the door was sealed, "be a princess and let me kiss you," he mused, smirking.

"not if I go first," you retorted. A cheeky smile drew upon your lips as you slanted forward, solely for an arm to push you back, tipping himself and compelling soft lips on yours. 

You succumbed to the sensation of his lips against yours almost immediately, and it didn't go unnoticed by the boy, whom you felt grin widely into the kiss.

After you passed the awkward stage of how exactly to kiss, you deepened your movements, cocking your head to the side, arms progressing to his neck, enveloping it. He kissed you fervently, eyes closed, following the established rhythm which got needier, your fingers lacing into his raven locks, yanking him towards you.

He broke the connection of lips, albeit of air, chests heaving heavily. You stared at the floor while your fingers let go of his hair and raked through yours, forcing the hair out of your front, processing that you merely kissed the lee heeseung, and as annoying as it was, he's a good kisser. 

He chuckled at your thought while you realized that he was reading your mind the entire time, heat searing over your cheeks at the sight of his scarlet and gold flaring eyes.

You scoffed, trying to play it cool, "not my fault you just happen to be good at everything," you drawl sheepishly, "like how you skillfully made ramen which smelled and looked good while you dealt with me bothersome self the entire while," you concluded, grumbling jokingly at the demon.

You waited for his reaction, gaining nothing but silence, causing you to wonder whether it was a wrong move that you kissed him. Sensing your doubt, he spoke, "right, your fresh change of clothes," treading to his closet, but you held him back.

Your eyes were lidded as you drew the boy back to you like a magnet, observing as he complied. You cupped his face, pressing your lips against his plump ones, the pace slower than prior, savoring the taste of his lips and the feeling.

Your heartbeat was ecstatic while heeseung returned the heated sentiment, his hands traveling to rest on your hips, fingers drumming along the expanse.

It continued the sweet, soft rhythm, your hands placed on his chest. He pulled away this time, sighing in delight and contentment. You melted along with his lean yet muscular figure, your head relaxing on his shoulder while your breath softened. He reciprocated the action, pulling you into his warm embrace.

It was evident in the air, the position, everything, except you. You stood oblivious, lost in bliss while hugging the raven-haired demon tightly, your senses in a mess. "should I get you a change of clothes now," he inquired, chuckling, his chest vibrating. You nodded curtly, replying.

He pulled away, driving you to frown, the warmth radiating off him now lost from your touch. You thought back to the contents of your part of the deal you cited to him, desiring to go back in time and change what occurred. The mentioned deal was a waste, a decision made in haste with no consideration or thought.

"turn me into a mortal again," you ushered out the deal, observing as his expression dropped, looking like his heart shattered. He wordlessly gapped at you, wavering if it were a joke, but you said nothing. Your head felt heavy, and so did your heart. Heeseung remained frozen as you closed your eyes, blacking out.

You were forced out of thoughts as he handed you a pair of his clothes, "i don't stay here much, but I tried to find the smallest pieces I have," he voiced out, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while you beamed the borrowed clothes, just knowing you'd drown in them.

You shoved him out the room, changing into your new pair of clothes that he possessed, which made your gut somersault in glee. You didn't know what you had harbored for the demon over time though you doubt it'd do any good.

Fallin for the angel-like demon wouldn't do you good nor get vengeance on the demon-like angel. 

You had sat quietly, eating what heeseung made before the little scene you caused. Your thoughts picked away at your peace of mind, and evidently, it was very apparent to those around. "are you okay?" heeseung whispered to you, worry washed over his face, lips jutting out naturally, forming a pout. To think you kissed his lips minutes ago.

You dismissed those sentiments quickly, brushing off the question while the demon casually munched on his bowl of ramen. He didn't look unpersuaded at your reply, eyeing you narrowly, "do you like the ramen?" he questioned, switching the topic. 

"yeah, it's good. it reminds me of when I tried to make pancakes and failed, so I summoned you for help but made them way better," you completed with a smile, thinking back to the many memories you created the day you were home with him. 

"don't banish heeseung as you did with me. Y/n is my daughter after all," jiheon jested jokingly, but the stillness dragged, gazes set on the two of you. Lucifer spared the two a glance, noting how you were seated attired in his clothes.

"that is if they wish to do so," he said, an unreadable front dawning upon the devil himself, "rules are rules." That only further soured the atmosphere as you stood up with your empty bowl in hand, excusing yourself.

You anticipated someone to call out to you, to stem you by the arm, but no one did. It added to your doubt that nothing good was to come with falling for the demon. You set the bowl in the sink, not darting at the others who remained muted, supervising your every move.

You traced the way back to heeseung's temporary room, strolling inside, plunging onto his bed while the tears brimming in your eyes fell, not a sob fleeing your mouth. You weren't sure when you fell asleep, discerning the built-up exhaustion and constant pondering whether to stick to your mind or heart.

You listened to the door click open, hearing voices whisper something along the lines, "bring her back tomorrow," who you acknowledged was your dad. "yes, have a goodnight, sir." The doorway shut, and the demon soughed, bringing his raven hair together.

You felt a warm hand atop your cheek, your eyes forcing themselves open, moving over to invite him beside you. He tried to refuse your offer and sat down instead. "i'll sleep elsewhere," he murmured, lulling you to sleep again. 

You shook your head his words, hands flying to the sides of his face, delivering a quick kiss. Your sleepy eyes gave away their urge to close as they did, your arms hooking around his waist, not wanting him to leave. So he stayed.

->⌚<-

The two asleep figures were entangled together. Soft breaths left them as their chest rose and fell. A phone rang violently, coercing the boy to jolt awake, eyes ripping open, gaining composure. He squints his eyes, advancing for the phone. 

He was cautious not to wake you while you cuddled him. The demon sat up, slanting against the headboard, an arm wrapping about you while he communicated quietly into the gadget.

"alright," he replied, cutting the call, inching back down to lay on his back, his free arm placing the phone on the side table. He progressed to envelop you in an embrace while you snuggled closer, your sleep-filled voice speaking, "are you awake?" sounding drowsy.

You wiggled yourself up, dropping onto his arm that held you in his embrace, "yeah, I got a call," he conveyed, eyes shutting as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, sighing in the tender moment, spiking chills down your spine. The coziness almost lulls you back to sleep.

"heeseung!" A shout resonated from outside his room, the door bursting open, eyes perceiving the scene before him, jaw craned open in surprise. You were the last person he expected to nestle against his technical brother.

The demon beside you grumbled, "what," he huffed, moving out of his comfortable position. Sunghoon appearing behind the baffled boy that initially called for heeseung was none other than jay. Sunghoon analyzed the situation as you sat up, sighing, eliciting a scoff from sunghoon.

"he's toying with you," sunghoon spoke, directing the statement towards you, side-eyeing the boy that sat about you. You stared disoriented while heeseung shot to his feet, depicting his outrage at what sunghoon said moments before. Yet he dared to continue with a sour face, "the bet was to avail a deal with you, not fool around with her," he completed, scoffing.

Heeseung's infuriated stature shoved sunghoon to the wall, turning back to your hurt and perplexed front and back to the blond boy, "stop spewing bullshit," he warned, balling the other boy's shirt. You and jay stood, witnessing it all, mouth agape.

You processed sunghoons remarks, looking down to the mattress, clenching your hand into a fist. You were confused, angry, sad, though one thing was clear, you were lied to,

"you lied too," you sneered through your words, tears bitterly pricking your eyes. Heeseung halted when you spoke, knowing he'd hurt you, lowering his glare with sunghoon, fronting you instead, "no, let me explain-" you launched a pillow at him, the power hurling him to the wall. 

You faltered at his pained groan, shocked at your strength, glimpsing at your hands, realizing it was your demon side, your anger fueling it further. Everyone watched as you struggled to repress your scarlet-colored devil counterpart.

"y/n," the crouched demon voiced, a hand placed at his abdomen, coughing slightly from the hit earlier. He got on his feet, then reached for you, though you flinched at the sudden contact, lashing out at him again. "stay away!" you exclaimed, backing away. 

You blinked rapidly, attempting to dismiss the demonic spirit that took over. Heeseung softened at your form, "stop trying to fight it," he spoke softly, shaking his head and soughing at the mess he'd created. He should've told you from the start.

You quieted down, breathing in and out, regaining the calmness you held, tears threatening to escape. You stilled your shaky voice, wanting nothing but to go home and be in the confines of your room and cry a river. "just take me home, please," 

The raven-haired demon gazed at your disheartening shape, considering you'd want space, away from him though he desired to explain. You had a valid reason to resent him. He had officially fucked up.

He opened his portal without a peep, gesturing you to go inside, following you inside your room. "i owe you an explanation—" he started, and you'd already had enough, your stout expression shutting him up as you motioned him to leave. "heeseung, kindly," you paused, sighing, "fuck off."

->⌚<-

Sunghoon paced everywhere in his room after heeseung returned distraught, telling the boy to leave him alone, slamming the door on him. He indeed felt despair for the two, but it was for the best. He had his reasons. He'd been in his position; he'd been in love.

He didn't want to lose his brother, have him expelled from hell for who knows how long, all over a half-blood. It had to stop before anything commenced, mentally facepalming for even proposing the bet. 

Maybe there were other ways than the one resorted to, but heeseung's stubborn. Stubborn in love. He wondered if you both were alright, hoping so. Sunghoon knew it wasn't right, but someone had to play the villain.

You laid motionless on your bed as water streamed down your eyes as you had for the past 2 hours. Your phone buzzed dozens of times, yet you couldn't bother to pick it up nor silence it.

You just laid there, aimlessly, wondering why you cared whether he lied or not, whether he meant his actions or words. You knew one thing, though. That you didn't want anything to do with na jaemin but everything to do with lee heeseung.

In all honesty, he was never the matter at hand. Heeseung, the demon boy who lied to you, was. Maybe you grew attached. Perhaps, you felt something more than friendship. Were you even friends? It ached.

It wasn't any different for him. He hadn't stepped out of his room in hours nor made a noise from inside. His brothers knocked on his door, trying to check up on him, yet no one responded. They wondered if he even were in the room, too scared to open it for themselves to see.

Until Sunghoon finally came outside to see the dilemma jake and jay were stuck in. Upon hearing their reasoning, he took matters into his own hands, kicking the door open and witnessing an almost lifeless figure laid on the mattress. It was heeseung.

"get out," 

"you haven't been out of your room in hours. what are you doing,"

"that doesn't concern you, get the fuck out of my room," he fumed.

It had been days since you last saw the demon boy. It stung, knowing you'd become a subject for his toying, pushing any signs of liking him to the side, trying to grow resentment for him. 

You wished that he meant everything he said and did, though it was nearly impossible seeing he didn't try to make amends with you, practically disappearing as you ordered him. Or he was respecting your desire for him to "kindly, fuck off." and so, he did.

Then why do you miss him? You summoned him almost every day, spending most of your time with him, naturally growing closer, getting attached. You thought back to when he'd taken you out for the day, making you laugh as you both walked along the sidewalk.

The wall beside you was cracked open, flowers blooming through them. You stared at the sight in awe, heeseung having caught you admiring it. "look," he said, gaining your attention, swirling his hand as a bright flame in the shape of a flower materialized in his hand.

You gasped at it, gapping in astonishment, advancing to touch it, but he clasped his hand shut, the flames vanishing. You frowned, a frustrated whine leaving you, causing the boy to snicker while patting you.

Your frown turned to a smile as you ran further to seemingly nowhere, driving him to follow forth not to lose view of you. You remember having so much fun that day, laughing like little kids, loving the adrenaline you felt when you were with him.

Maybe you should've let him explain.

You sigh as yoon drags you into the party, introducing you to some of her friends while you return the favor by introducing yourself. You did not want to be here. 

Ryujin, the one hosting the party, approached you. "happy birthday!" you exclaim over the booming music. She smiled, replying, "yoon did mention you sulking over some boy, forget about him for the night, and join me for a dance,"

And so you found your way to the dance floor along with ryujin, who was surprisingly fun to be around, dancing to the music, driving you to do the same. It was probably the most fun you'd had since you told the demon to fuck off.

Ryujin beamed at your now uplifted shape, telling you she'd be back in after greeting some more guests, which you agreed to, stepping off the dance floor in need of refreshment.

You reach for the water bottle, breaking the seal on the cap, gulping down some water. You wipe off any excess that could remain around your mouth, setting the bottle down and heaving a few breaths. 

From the corner of your eye, you see a tall man with his long black hair hanging over his orbs messily, flashing a charming smile that his eye smile completed, laughing at something his friend said. You continue to check him out, eyes scrutinizing his every move.

He styled a gold flower patterned black shirt, the top two buttons left unattended, exposing his collarbones. The leather jacket he adorned shined under the gleaming lights, casually paired with black ripped jeans. You were practically goggling, yet you couldn't help yourself. 

He felt a pair of eyes on him, turning his head to you across the room, meeting your gaze. He sent you a lopsided grin which you most definitely returned, conveying something to his group of friends, leaving them and walking over to you.

You'd be lying if you said that gaze didn't make you nervous. "hey, sorry to bother," the man starts, leaning onto the table, glancing up at you with a glint of mischievousness.

You stretch an amusing smile waiting for him to continue. "i lost my number. could I have yours?" he concludes, fighting the urge to laugh at his line, failing and bursts out chortling. 

You snicker at the failed attempt of a pickup line, "sorry, I have a strict to-do list, and you're not on it," you reply, faking a sad expression, jutting your bottom lip out, feigning sadness.

"i could make my way on it after a dance, love," he states slyly, offering his hand for a dance. You gladly accept his invitation, having no reason to turn down the opportunity from the handsome man. 

He treads to the dance floor once more. Random club noise blaring from the speakers while you catch ryujin grin and wink your way, seeming excited that you were dancing with someone. "Your name?" you inquire, peering at him.

"minghao," he voices, dancing with you, surprisingly, very good at it, "but you can call me yours." You'd heard of the boy, being popular among many for his good looks and talent in singing, dancing, and flirting.

"i assume your name is gorgeous," he expresses as you mentally cringe, but you guess his face made up for it. "flattered, but I'm y/n," you speak, clearing your throat. He nods at you, twirling you around, seizing you far by shock.

The music turns up while you try to give your best on the dance floor, assuming it worked as the crowd focused on you two. This day was turning out to be more fun than anticipated. 

You notice that he was stealing glances at your lips, but it reminded you of heeseung. The one boy you wanted to forget reclaimed his position in your heart instantly, all because the man that footed with you glimpsed at your lips.

You shake your head in disapproval at remembering the demon. Minghao gradually leaned in towards you, his hot breath fanning you. Maybe, you needed new memories to get rid of the old ones, you thought, shutting your eyes. 

You felt his lips on yours, "minghao," but he pulled away immediately, provoking you to fling your pupils open, "oh hey," minghao pauses nervously, putting distance between you, "heeseung."

Your mood takes a 180, irritation displayed on your front, you tch, pacing away from the two. Heeseung cuts minghao short, simply ignoring the boy, running after you. You frantically search for yoon, unable to find her.

You scan the entire hall desperately, attempting to spot shim jayoon, and you do in the corner of the hall, making out with soobin. You falter upon sight, endeavoring to recall if she ever mentioned him, having forgotten about heeseung completely as he clasps your arm, gaining your attention.

You glower at the raven-haired, "let go," you order, forcing your eyes to glow ruby-colored. Letting your hand free, "don't," heeseung voiced, scoffing and grasping your arm again. This time you got dragged upstairs, where it was much quieter.  

"what the fuck were you doing grinding against xu minghao," he asked, jaw clenched in what you assumed was jealousy.

"none of your business, now tell me what you had to say, or I'll leave," you threaten, annoyed by the demon.

He sighed, collecting himself, "i know you don't want to talk to me, let alone see me, but we've still got a contract bounding us," he spoke, sympathizing with you. "what contract?" you ask, cluelessly.

"the deal, the moment you agreed, the contract was bound," heeseung conveyed, ruffling the jet hair out of his face, "oh," you let out in realization, now in a dilemma of what you wanted your deal to be.

Detecting the uncertainty in your expression, "i'll give you time to think about it, princess" he spoke. He gazed at you and your red lips longer than he should've, compelling himself to speak his mind, "i meant everything I did and said," he articulated in a whisper.

He didn't know what unknown force was driving him closer and closer to you, a mere distance away from meeting your lips. You interrupt the chain of movements, "i'll do it, i'll fulfill the contract, but under one condition," you state, your hand cupping his cheek, making you look him straight in your eyes.

"that is?"

"don't lie again," you utter in a hush manner, standing on your tippy-toes, attempting to press a quick peck to his cheek, only to lose balance and peck his jaw. You feel your cheeks heat by your misstep, leaving the boy to himself in the hall upstairs.

You left the party with a lot on your mind, from nearly kissing minghao then accidentally pecking heeseung on the jaw. But you had one thing clear; you indeed have feelings for the demon.

So that's where you began while ranting to yoon about your love life as she listened to your concerns, her only reply to your whole ordeal being, "oh, yeah, I knew," she stated casually.

"what, how—"

"we've known each other since birth. How would I not know?"

You open your mouth to protest, closing it back as fast as you opened it. "that's what I thought," she quipped, lips tugging in a victorious smile, "now what's up with you and soobin," you inquire, smirking at the girl opposite of you.

She shares her apprehensions with you, much like you did to her, soon concluding that she should ask the boy out if he doesn't in a few days. Your friend didn't fail to detect the murmur that left your mouth in a breath, "as I will to heeseung, today,"

She teases you playfully for the romantic sentiment though realizing the weight of the situation, "but won't he get banished from hell if he wishes to see a mortal?" That's when you spill the contents of your master plan you thought over through your sleepless night.

->⌚<-

You paced around the room, repeatedly glancing at the rustic paintings you'd hung on the walls. Fog roamed the stretch outside your window, cold chills arising goosebumps on your skin. 

The clock struck 7 pm, the sky dimming in accordance, the faint moonlight peeking through the bundle of pearly white clouds. You were home alone hence the eery silence suspended in the air, the perfect opportunity to summon heeseung.

You calmed your erratic heartbeats, settling on your mattress, closing your eyes, and sucking in a breath. You then thought of the raven-haired demon seated beside you. 

Unbeknownst to you, heeseung sat next to you as you thought, yet you didn't realize. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to why the boy wasn't present.

He grinned at the sight of you in bewilderment, setting his palm on the blade of your shoulder, earning a jolt from you, scrambling away from him, eyes cast open with fright, placing a hand to your chest above your heart.

You blink rapidly, gapping blankly at the boy who sported a smile, waving a hi, "what— when did you get here," you ask, staring at the boy with rounded orbs gazing right into his, "i was here the moment you thought I was, you just didn't realize," he spoke, shrugging his shoulders.

"oh," you spoke, learning that you were too lost to recognize the boy's distinct scent. "before you began about the deal," he paused, fiddling with his fingers, soon meeting your gaze, "can I explain myself?" he put forward as you nodded, allowing him.

If it were anyone but the demon you'd become fond of and even grew feelings for, you wouldn't have let them explain, wanting nothing to do with them, but your bias was evident when it came to him.

"now, where do I start,"

"from the beginning," you confirm, crossing your legs, sitting in a crisscrossed position, heeding all your concentration onto him.

"the day of your birthday, I was with the boys; I'm sure you know most of them by now, having seen them on many occasions," He directs, waiting for your answer, to which you quip, "yeah, I've seen most, and especially sunghoon," you mention the boy's name in distaste.

Picking up on the distaste, he chuckles, "sunghoon then brought up how I've not taken up a client in quite some time, then one leads to another, and he proposed that I should have you as my client. I agreed and showed up in your room while you were stuck out your window," he recollected, laughing at the memory.

You were embarrassed upon recalling, hurrying him to move on from his remembrance and continue. He soon stopped giggling, shifting closer to you, bending to your eye level as his arms supported him from the mattress.

"the more I hung out with you, the more I thought of you, wanting to spend my time with you," he confessed, reaching for your hand, intertwining it with his.

"but when you first proposed your idea of what you wanted as the deal, I realized that you were out of my reach. sunghoon caught on, and he told me to cut my ties with you which led us to fight," he paused to observe your expression, and upon seeing it was of curiosity, he continued.

"so on the day you stayed over, he saw this as a way to end things himself," he voiced, sighing at the thought, and you grimaced, "he had his reasons, not wanting to lose his brother. sunghoon did what he thought was right, so don't hate him too much," he conveyed, a subtle chuckle spilling past his lips.

"sunghoon did apologize to me and wanted me to relay it to you too," 

"i don't hate him as before since his reason was justifiable. I wouldn't want to lose you either," you concluded, beaming at him, that he returned. 

"y/n, I do like you, though I can't be with you because of the rules of hell," he said, his front faltering, drawing you into an embrace, running a hand down your back soothingly. You pulled out of the embrace instead, placing a hand on his cheek, smiling, "but what if I told you I found a way around it,"

He smiled at your attempt, "there's no way around it y/n—"

"my deal is that you don't get expelled from hell," you completed, pausing for him to process your words. He met your pupils, holding your hand as he rejoiced, "that isn't stated in the rule book— you're a genius!"

His smile shifts to a pout, "but why would you use this once-in-a-lifetime deal on me," he said, his hand coming to pat your head, "most people wish for money or other materialist items, so why choose me,"

"because I like you too," you state, watching as visible panic and shock washes over him. You smile and hold his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss. He softened into you immediately, feeling him smile against your lips. 

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, pressing your lips harder against his. You ran your hands through his soft hair, tilting your neck to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, laughing from the sudden rush of happiness and butterflies invading your stomach, laying back on the bed.

He joined you, replicating your movements, moving to lay on his back as well. He draped his arm on your torso, snuggling closer, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, making you giggle at the ticklish action.

You whipped your head to him, "since you're my boyfriend, can I see your demon horns," you asked as your eyes lit up, wanting to see his horns. He covered his face with his hand, "do you really want to see them?" he inquired, dreading the moment you nodded eagerly.

"I usually hide them, but I'll allow you to see them once," he sighed, unveiling the horns on top of his head. You looked in fascination at the red horns that weren't large as most depicted, "they're cute, surprisingly," you stated, continuing to play with them.

You set your head atop his chest as it rose and fell, now accommodating your head above it. The silence was comfortable, "lucy will be infuriated, won't he," you say, snickering, "i think he'll be more infuriated when he finds out that everyone has been calling him lucy,"

Maybe, the large hand pressed to your back, your lips hard at work, teeth clashing against the others, every frivolous motion that made the moment seem just right with all details in place. Your knees weakened as your bottom lip was clawed at, eliciting a quiet whine.

His haste motions paused as he pulled away, hand shifting its warmth from back to your waist, another resting on the nape of your neck, drawing you back to his mouth. You locked your fingers around his hair, tugging his head down to connect his lips with yours. 

It wasn't what you'd expected when you summoned the raven-haired you so harshly yanked at, provoking him to groan in between your heated kiss. Not that you opposed the situation, more so finding yourself enjoying it.

His grip tightened around your waist, making you part the lips he worked at without catching a breath. He seized the opportunity, sticking his tongue inside, fighting his way to dominating your tongue. You grew tired of constant nudging, giving up, and letting him win willingly.

He smirked in victory, swirling around the tip of your tongue with experience. Your heart thumped in affection as you panted, clutching onto his shoulders. 

He dragged his mouth over to your jaw, marking it up. You held your bottom lip hostage, clenching it, not wanting to cause any loud noise. 

He wordlessly embraced you, lifting you off your feet and onto your head, sliding in beside you, bear-hugging you. "that was great," you mutter, shying over, avoiding his teasing expression. 

You turned the other way, showing him your back, making him chuckle merely to snuggle onto you, his nose brushing at your earlobe. 

He pressed feather-light kisses around your ear and neck, causing you to shudder at the affectionate motion. "i would know you liked it if you didn't say so since your whine said it all," He retorted, chuckling as you hid your beat red front in your palms and supposedly away from his teasing. 

"yn," he drawled from your chair on the other side of the room, his eyes boring into yours. "what?" you questioned, your orbs still glued to the book you read while heeseung shifted in his seat, "how do I look" he inquired, striking a random pose.

Nonetheless, he looked breathtaking, "i need an honest opinion. Let me read your mind," he spoke, a sheepish smirk quirking on his front. "no, wait—" you hurried out while you came up with a master plan.

"i'm going to read now,"

You sighed in reply, knowing what to do. Heeseung's eyes gleamed ruby, gazing intensely at you. You thought of the familiar tune in your head, playing it from memory, and much to your liking, the demon was speechless.

His jaw hung open, "did you just," he paused, trying to make sense of what you'd done telepathically, "rickroll me—" he concluded, shutting his open mouth, stepping over to where you sat, playfully tackling you.

"and what if I did," you teased, returning his energy, "you're unbelievable," he said exasperated.

"i know, but you love it," "i do, indeed princess."

thank you for reading♡

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 44)

Summary: Back at the compound and you and Steve make progress on your future together

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: FLUFF! light angst! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 44: The Princess Of Asgard *

The Avengers left Sokovia after a couple day. Despite you best work to make everything okay tension began to rise. So SHIELD and the UN suggested it was best you all left to help diffuse the tension.

As much as he wanted to help out more Steve was glad to head back to New York. Since a large amount of the tower was damaged the team decided to bring forward the move to the compound.

Not everyone was sticking around though. Clint said he was retiring or permanent paternity leave as he called it. Tony had decided to take a step back too, work behind the scenes instead. Thor was leaving too, back on his adventures and nobody knew where Bruce was still. So that only left Steve, Nat and you to run the Avengers, Steve being the official leader even if he did rely on you.

Steve had seen the new compound a couple times before but now that it was completed it was honestly really impressive. His favourite place was already the lake, and he could see it was your favourite place too.

The two of you had moved all of your stuff into your new room. Which was actually more like a small apartment. It had a nice living area with a couch and couple chairs in front of a TV and built-in fireplace. The living area then went onto the bedroom which was bigger than the one at the tower and had view of the lake.

Once you were done you spent the evening by the lake just talking. Steve quite often finding himself just looking over at watching you. It was quiet moments like this that Steve was able to appreciate how much he loved you. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he’d know that for a while now. He couldn’t wait until he could take the next step with you. He had to talk to someone else first though.

He had to be quick too as the person he needed to talk to was leaving soon. He found Thor outside looking over all the different agents training.

“It’s an impressive set up, you’ll have your hands busy��� Thor says as Steve moves to stand next to him.

“Looks like it, hopefully I’ll find some time off too though” Steve agrees watching a group of agents jog past.

“I have a feeling you’re here to talk about more than just the agents” Thor says turning to Steve with a knowing look.

Steve chuckles looking down at the floor “no, and please don’t strike me down with lightning but I want to ask Y/N to marry me” Steve admits looking back up.

Thor remained silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked back at Steve.

“And I know you’re supposed to ask the for the father’s blessing but considering he’s on Asgard and all that” Steve says beginning to ramble when Thor didn’t say anything.

“Captain, of course I give you my blessing, and I’m sure Odin does too” Thor smiles stopping him.

“Really?” Steve asks not believing it.

“Yes, I couldn’t ask for a better man to marry my sister, I can see how much you love each other” Thor smiles.

“Thank you Thor, that means a lot, I’m assuming you’ll be back for the wedding, if she says yes that is” Steve chuckles.

“Yes of course, have no worries Captain she’ll say yes” Thor tells him slapping him on the shoulder.

“You know you can call me Steve right? Especially since we’ll hopefully be becoming family” Steve tells him.

“Will do” Thor says walking away before turning back to Steve “oh and Steve when you ask her make sure it’s something romantic she is the princess of Asgard after all” he adds making Steve laugh.

“No pressure” he sighs shaking his head with a small chuckle.

As he turns he sees you stepping outside and walking over to him. He instantly smiles when he sees you. He watches as you exchange a couple words with Thor before continuing over to him.

“Hey” he greets wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Hey what you doing out here” you ask him.

“Just observing the agents, getting some fresh air” Steve says shrugging his shoulders.

“Sounds fun” you say sarcastically making him roll his eyes at you.

“I’m gonna miss Thor” you sigh as you rest your head against him.

“I know it’s gonna be quiet with just the three of us” Steve admits.

“We do have the new recruits” you point out.

“Very true, they seem eager to start training tomorrow” Steve says recalling Sam’s excitement when he asked him to be an Avenger.

“Back to the grind” you sigh.

“Hey why don’t we do something next weekend? Just us two?” Steve suggests trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Like a date night?” You ask with a smirk.

“I was thinking something along the likes of the whole day?” He suggests with a smile.

“The whole day! What you got planned Rogers?” You smirk.

“Dunno yet think I might just wing it” Steve says making you laugh and slap him across the chest.

The next day you were walking the halls of the compound with Steve, Tony and Thor. You were having to try and not laugh out loud at their conversation, which was kinda ridiculous.

“The rules have changed” Steve sighs holding your hand as you walk down the corridor.

“We’re dealing with something new” Tony agrees.

“Oh the Vision is artificial intelligence” Steve says.

“A machine” Tony confirms.

“So it doesn’t count?” Steve asks glancing over at Tony.

“No, it’s not like a person lifting the hammer” Tony answers.

“Right different rules for us” Steve agrees.

You glance up at Thor who was smirking down at you. Also clearly enjoying the conversation between the two men.

“Nice guy, artificial” Tony says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Thank you” Steve smiles.

“He can wield the hammer he can keep the mind stone, its safe with the Vision and these days safe is in short supply” Thor sighs.

“But if you put the hammer in an elevator?” Steve says after a moment of silence.

“It would still go up!” Tony exclaims.

“Elevator’s not worthy” Steve says shaking his head.

You snort with laughter making him look down at you “what?” He laughs.

“I’m gonna miss these little talks of ours” Thor smiles patting Tony on the shoulder.

“Not if you don’t leave” you say, hoping your brother would stick around a bit longer.

“I have no choice sister” Thor sighs look down at you.

“The mind stone is the 4th of the infinity stones to show up in the last few years, it’s not a coincidence, someone has been playing an intricate game and has made pawns of us once all these pieces are in position” Thor explains as you all step outside onto the lawn.

“Triple Yahtzee?” Tony offers.

“You think you can find out what’s coming?” You ask Thor.

“I do, besides this one there’s nothing that can’t be explained” Thor says patting Tony.

“Let us know when you hear anything, stay safe out there and don’t forget to visit your little sister” you tell him making him smile.

“I will, I’m sure they’ll be a reason for me to visit soon enough” Thor smiles before glancing over at Steve.

“You keep her out of trouble for me” Thor tells Steve making you roll your eyes.

“I’ll try my best” Steve chuckles as you jab him in the ribs with your elbow.

Thor smiles before taking a few steps away and summoning the Bifrost. You watch as he transports away to gods knows where leaving an Asgardian pattern scorched into the grass.

“That man has no regard for law maintenance” Tony sighs in annoyance.

“Should build him his own launch pad” you suggest with a smirk.

“Maybe, I’ll miss him though and you guys are gonna miss me, gonna be lots of tears” Tony says as you all turn and start walking towards his car.

“We will miss you Tony” Steve says.

“Yeah who else am I gonna get my movie references from” you smile.

“Yeah? Well it’s time for me to tap out, maybe I should take a page out of Barton’s book. Build Pepper a farm hope nobody blows it up” Tony says with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“The simple life” Steve says.

“You two will get there one day, you’re still young, technically” Tony says making you chuckle.

“I don’t know, I’m a different person to the guy that went into the ice, I don’t think the guy that wanted the simple life saw all this happening” Steve sighs nodding over to the compound.

“But at least I found my home” he adds wrapping his arm around you smiling down at you.

You smile back up at him before he leans down pressing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss.

“Think I’m gonna be sick” Tony grumbles as he gets in the car.

You roll your eyes waving goodbye to Tony as he sped down the drive back towards the city. Once he was gone Steve turned to face you wrapping his arms around you.

“You okay?” You ask him resting your hands on his chest.

“You know on Clint’s farm me and him had a little chat about how he managed to have all that and still do what he did” Steve tells you, making you arch your brow.

“How did he do it?” You ask.

“Trial and error, found what worked and made it their version of normal” Steve explains.

“Sounds easy enough, I’m sure we can work it out” you say moving your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“Really?” He asks a hint of uncertainty.

“Really, it’ll be just like planning a mission” you smirk making him laugh.

“The best mission of my life” he smiles before cupping your cheek and kissing you deeply.

“As much as I’d love to carry this on, we have new recruits to train” you say patting him on the chest.

“Yeah you’re right” he sighs stepping away but keeping hold of you hand “lets go”

As the two of you make your way to the training rooms you spot Nat stood waiting for you, staring at the wall deep in thought.

“You wanna keep staring at the wall or do you wanna go to work?” Steve asks grabbing her attention.

“I mean it’s a pretty interesting wall” you smirk.

“I thought you two were still gazing into each other’s eyes” Nat smirks walking over.

“How do we look?” She asks as Steve passes her a tablet.

“Well we’re not the ‘27 Yankees” Steve tells her.

“We got some hitters” Nat says looking over the tablet.

“They’re good. They’re not a team” Steve sighs.

“Neither were we to begin with” you point out.

“Let’s beat ‘em into shape” Nat smirks.

The three of you step into the training gym to see Rhodey, Sam, Wanda and Vision waiting.

“Avengers” Steve calls out making them stand to attention.

“As you were” he says as you all walk down the stairs to them.

“Now we know what you guys can do individually, now we want you to work as a team” Steve tells them all.

“We’re gonna be a little nicer than SHIELD too, no bulldozer test” you say.

“Aw I miss that” Nat smirks.

“Instead you have an obstacle course, which will test your abilities and how well you work together and you’re not allowed to use your powers” Steve explains.

“Or suits” you add when you see Sam and Rhodey hold up their hands.

“You have five minutes to prepare” Steve tells them.

“Placing bets on time?” Nat asks quietly earning a look from Steve.

“Half an hour” you offer, making Steve raise a brow at you.

“That’s generous” he says glancing over at the team.

“What you thinking?” Nat asks him.

“An hour maybe” he says shrugging his shoulders.

“Alright I’ll go in the middle the 45 minutes, 10 bucks?” Natasha offers.

“Deal” you and Steve agree.

You woke up on Saturday to the feeling of someone’s lips pressing repeatedly against your shoulder. You knew exactly who that someone was too. You let out a small hum of content as you roll over to face your super solider.

“Mornin’” you mumble nuzzling your head into Steve’s chest.

“Morning doll” he chuckles as he tucks some hair behind your ear.

You just hum again in response not awake enough to form a coherent sentence. You hear Steve chuckle again, his laughter reverberating against your forehead. His hand running up and down your back gently.

“So I was thinking maybe we could go out for breakfast, there’s a nice cafe not too far from here” Steve suggests making you look up at him.

“Do they do pancakes?” You ask him raising a brow.

“Some of the best in the state apparently” he tells you making you smile.

“Can we take the bike?” You smirk.

“Of course, shall we go?” Steve asks smiling down at you.

“In just a moment” you smirk before reaching up to cup his cheek guiding his lips down to yours.

Steve instantly smiles into the kiss, his arm around you tightening pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he moves to hover over you. His knee moves between yours parting your legs, his hand starting to roam over your body.

You moan into the kiss as his hand cups your breast. Massaging it in his large hands. His lips then moved to you jawline and neck. Sucking and nibbling at your skin, finding your pulse point with ease. You feel heat pooling at your core, your hips starting to rock against his thigh desperate for friction. You feel Steve smirk against your skin, shifting his leg away making you whine.

“Somebody’s eager” he smirks nudging his nose against yours.

“Can you blame me?” You smirk running your fingers up into his hair, tugging gently.

“Not at all doll, been wanting this since I woke up” he smirks kissing you.

“Only then?” You smirk making him laugh.

“No, for much, much longer, but you already know that” he smiles kissing you again deeply.

You sigh into the kiss running your hands down his chest. You can feel his muscles tensing as your fingers traces over his muscles. Your hands reach his boxers and you can feel his erection through the thin fabric. He groans dropping his head to your shoulders as you slip you hand under the waist band, stroking him.

His hands quickly find your sleep shorts discarding them before his hands join yours in pushing his boxers down and off.  He settles between your legs and slowly presses into you. The both of you sighing in content. Your moans pick up in tempo and volume as he trusts into you. You hook your legs around his hips allowing him thrust deeper into you hitting that sweet spot.

You feel the coil inside you tightening with every thrust, leaving you clinging onto Steve desperately.

“Stevie I’m close” you gasp dropping your head back.

“Me too, let go, I’ve got you” he pants pressing his lips down to your neck.

The coil withing you soon snaps as you come with a loud gasp, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. As you come undone underneath him, Steve chases his own orgasm. He moans dropping his forehead against yours as he reaches his own high.

As you both come down from your highs he presses gentle kisses to you lips. Mumbling sweet nothings in between each kiss making you chuckle wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you too” you chuckle when you were able to catch your breath enough to talk.

“I love you more” he sighs looking down at you with a warm smile.

“Impossible” you laugh cupping his cheek and pulling his lips down to yours.

Eventually you and Steve got up and dressed making your way out of the compound.

“Have fun you two” Nat calls out as Steve leads you out.

You laugh giving her a quick wave before Steve pulls you out the door to his bike. Where you waste no time wrapping your arms around him tightly resting your chin on his shoulder. Kissing his neck before he pulls out and away from the compound.

It was lunchtime when you and Steve got back to the compound. You were expecting to head back inside to make lunch for the two of you. However, Steve took your hand and started leading you towards the lake.

“Where you taking me?” You laugh as leads closer and closer to the lake.

“Just on a little walk” he says smirking over at you making you laugh.

As you approach the small jetty you spot a blanket and basket waiting for you. You glance up at Steve to see him smiling down at you already.

“How’d you pull this off?” You laugh as you step onto the jetty.

“Mutual redheaded friend” he smiles making you hum in understanding as you sit down.

Steve grabs the basket before sitting down next to you. He begins unpacking everything and you see he’s packed all your favourite snacks.

“I made sandwiches too, nothing fancy you know my cooking ability isn’t great” he laughs pulling out some sandwiches.

“It’s getting better, soon you’ll be a Michelin star chef” you say making him laugh.

“Unlikely doll” he says grabbing a sandwich and taking a large bite.

“Stranger things have happened, aliens, killer robots” you point out grabbing your own sandwich.

“That is true” he hums in agreement.

The two of you chatted as you ate and snacked on the picnic food. Eventually you moved to sit on the edge of the jetty, feet hanging off the edge into the water.

“The lakes were always my favourite place on Asgard, I’d form a bubble and let myself sink down to the bottom, watch all the different creatures” you tell him as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you run out of air?” He asks.

“No, I don’t know how it worked but I could stay there for hours” you explain shrugging your shoulders.

“Interesting, doesn’t quite obey the laws of biology” Steve hums.

“And your shield doesn’t obey the law of physics, we live in a weird world” you point out making him laugh.

“That is true, thank god I have you to help understand it all” he smiles wrapping his arm around you kissing the top of your head.

You and Steve ended up staying out by the lake until the sun started to set. The orange rays of sunlight bouncing of the surface of the lake. It made the water look golden as it sparkled.

“I should really take you to Asgard some day, I think you’ll really like it there” you say looking out over the lake as Steve packed up behind you.

When Steve doesn’t say anything you glance over your shoulder. At first when you see him on one knee you assumed he was still packing up the picnic but then you saw his nervous smile.

“Steve?” You ask standing up and turning to face him.

“Doll, I did have this whole speech planned out but right now my nerves are getting the best of me and I’ve forgotten it all” he says with a small chuckle reaching out to take your hand.

“When I woke up in this new world the first couple months were some of the worst in my entire life, but then your brother arrived on earth which led me to meeting one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known” he says making you chuckle.

“From that moment on you’ve changed my life in more ways than I can ever describe. But the most important change is that you’ve given me a home, helped me find a life outside of serving and being Captain America” he continues.

“When we were in Sokovia up on that floating rock for the first time in my life I wasn’t okay laying down my life for the greater good. I was devastated, thinking I’d lost my chance to make a life with you. Grow old with you, watch little version of me and you run amok, maybe with a dog” he says tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, a watery laugh escaping your lips.

“But then we did it, saved the day once more and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer to start my future with you. I’ve been lucky enough to be your firsts, but I also want to be your lasts. So, Y/N, would you do me the absolute honour by becoming my wife?” He asks pulling a small box from his pocket.

Your hands shakily fly to your mouth as he opens the box revealing the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. It was simplistic yet elegant. It was a silver band with a circular diamond in the centre, two smaller ones on each side.

“Yes, yes of course yes” you manage to say through the tears nodding your head vigorously.

Steve beams back at you tears in his eyes as he slides the ring onto your finger. You instantly cup his cheeks crashing your lips onto his as he stood up. He smiled into the kiss wrapping his arms around you tightly lifting you off your feet.

“I love you so, so, so much” you say shaking your head tears still falling.

“I love you too, more than you could believe” he smiles kissing you again deeply.

When you parted for air, you wiped away the stray tears on his cheeks, him doing the same for you.

“It’s so beautiful” you say shaking your head not quite believing it.

“A beautiful ring for a beautiful woman” he smiles wrapping his hand around yours.

“And I thought it was the perfect ring considering it’s gone from one important woman in my life to another” he continues making you tilt your head in confusion.

“It was my ma’s ring, when she passed, she told me to give it to give it to whoever I was lucky enough to fall in love with” he explains making a fresh set of tears to fall.

“Oh Stevie, that’s so sweet, I’m so lucky to have you too” you smile jumping up to kiss him again.

“God I can’t wait to tell Thor, he’s gonna be so happy” you say with a chuckle.

“He actually already knows” Steve tells you making you tilt your head in confusion again.

“I asked for his blessing, on the count that I couldn’t just pop to Asgard to ask your father” Steve explains making you laugh.

“Did he give you the if you hurt her I’ll kill her talk?” You chuckle.

“No, just reminded me to treat your right, princess” he says with a smirk.

You instantly groan dropping your head against his chest making him laugh.

“He knows I find that annoying” you grumble.

“I think it’s cute, it’s very fitting whether your father is a king or not, you’re still a princess to me” he smiles stroking the back of your head.

“Guess that makes it better” you sigh looking up at him.

“Does this help?” He asks cupping your cheek and kissing you once more.

“Definitely Captain” you smile making him chuckle.

“Guess I deserve that” he grins “now do you wanna head back inside and tell everyone?”

“No, I have something else in mind” you smirk taking his hand, grins down at you and lets you lead him back inside.

You lead him back to your room and into the bedroom. Once inside you turn cupping his cheek and bringing his lips down to yours. He instantly hums in content gripping your hips and pulling them against his. You smirk into the kiss when you feel his erection pressing against you.

Your hands move down his chest unbuttoning his shirt before pushing it off his shoulders and two the floor. He quickly evens it up by pulling the top you wore up and off. You then grab at his belt buckle pulling it loose, his hands meet yours and he pushes his jeans and boxers down.

As he steps back out of them you continue to push him back until he was sat down on edge of the bed. You stood between his legs wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you deepened the kiss. His hands were splayed against your back, one quickly removing your bra which you promptly threw away. His hands then find the shorts you were wearing and easily pushes both them and your underwear down and off.

When you kick them off you move climbing on top of him so you were straddling his hips. He wrapped his arms around you tightly until your chest was pressed up against his. You hand found the nape of his neck your finger moving up into his hair. When he shifted slightly underneath you his erection pressed against your core making you gasp. Without even thinking you started to rock your hips earning a low moan from him.

“God Princess” he moans his lips moving from yours to your neck.

When you hear that pet name arousal floods down to your core. Not wanting to wait a second more you move and line yourself up before slowly sinking down onto him. You head dropping down to his shoulder as you feel that familiar stretch.

After a moment you begin to move leaving the both of you groaning. His hands find your hips guiding you as you continued to ride him. When you throw your head back his lips find you breasts, finding the sensitive peaks.

“Say it again” you gasp putting your hands on his shoulders for more leverage.

You catch Steve smirk as he cups your cheek resting his forehead against yours.

“As you wish princess” he smirks before flipping you over onto your back.

He then kisses you deeply as he thrusts into you at an escalated pace. Leaving you grasping at his back as you feel your limbs turn to jelly. You feel the coil within tightening.

“Stevie I’m-“ you don’t even get to finish your sentence as your orgasm crashes over you.

You hear Steve groan dropping his head into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses to your neck. His hips continue to snap towards yours before faltering as he rides out his own orgasm.

Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath. As he comes down Steve lies on top of you, supporting the majority of his own weight still. He presses kisses to your jawline making you chase his lips until finally they meet for a slow drawn-out kiss.

When you part, he brushed some hair out of your face before taking your left hand and kissing your hand right by your ring. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, looking forward to spending the rest of your life with him.

LIKE FOLLOW AND REBLOG!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications for updates!

[illyaana]

credits to the artists who made the fanarts I used!

Dorm Life - Shoto Todoroki

Thanks to @missuga for this collab! Sorry I gave to you late TwT Do check out their collab over here!

Tags: Shoto Todoroki x Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Cursing, Minor Angst, Kissing (escandalo)

Synopsis: A compilation of drabbles of your life during the pandemic, quarantined in the UA dorms.

Word Count: 2734

⋯⋯ ⫍ SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

CLASSES

The Sun let its light brush against your skin, giving you a warm hug in the morning. You awoke to the pale blue skies that were painted so elegantly it made you stare. The cumulus clouds softly danced on its stage, etching a smile on your face. You looked around the room, checking for the clock to see what time it was currently.

10:00 a.m. - You were supposed to wake up at 8:00.

Worry rushed through you. The fear of you being late for class thrummed as you tried to get out of your bed.

Hint: tried.

You turned to your side and looked at the male beside you. His hands had found their way around your waist, pulling you in. His head was pressed against your shoulder. His twin-colored hair was disheveled thanks to him turning himself all through the night, His long eyelashes framed his closed lids, his lips slightly parted. Small snores came out in intervals as he snuggled into you, his vice grip around your body tightening even more.

You could help but trace his lips with your finger - it was so soft, you had to.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then laid your forehead against his.

“Get up, Sho - class starts in 10 minutes,” you said, rubbing his shoulder.

“I don’t want to, this is too comfortable,” he mumbled, rubbing his head on your shoulder.

“What are you, a cat?” You joked, placing your hands on his cheek, “Let me at least get my laptop on - I can tell Aizawa we’re sharing my laptop and we can just join the class here.”

“Getting the laptop means that you move - and you are not moving,” he said, tightening his grip on you.

“You know we’re going to be in trouble if we don’t join the class, right? Oh yeah, it starts in 5 minutes,” you said, slightly annoyed at him.

Shoto sighs in defeat, “Fine - but, hurry up,”

You pry his arms off of you and rush to your table to get the laptop on. Thankfully, you managed to join the class 3 minutes before it began.

“Aren’t you coming back in here?” Todoroki whined, patting the space beside him.

“Are you finally awake?” You question him.

“Kind of?”

“ ‘Kind of?’ “

“Yes, I am awake - I no longer need to sleep,” he groans.

You take your laptop and place it in the space between the two of you as you sit back on the bed. You pressed another kiss on his forehead, making him smile.

“Good morning, snowflake,” he says as he returns your kiss with one on your forehead.

“Good morning, Sho.”

“Now that you both have shown a great deal of affection, Y/N and Shoto,” Eraserhead says from your Zoom call, “Can my class finally begin?”

⁜

⁜

⁜

LUNCH BREAK

“I got the money from Aizawa for our meals! Can you all go through the menu and tell me what you want on the class group chat?” Momo shouted from the living room.

“Imagine eating great food for free?” Uraraka smiled, enjoying how our meals were paid for by the school itself, “The pandemic is amazing yet so annoying at the same time.”

You chuckle at the brown-haired girl, seeing her awe-filled expression.

“What are you getting?” You ask her.

“Hmm… maybe Udon? It’s been a long time since I ate it, and since it’s not coming from my pocket…” she eyed the menu, “I’m getting the most expensive one.”

“You know he gave a set amount for the whole class right?” You look at her mischievous expression.

“I’m pretty sure we can stay within the budget. Our class generally doesn’t spend much money on food, right?”

You looked across the room to see Kaminari and Kirishima going through the menu.

“You think those two will be reasonable with their spending? Knowing them, they’re most probably buying the whole menu plus snacks,” you say, looking at their joy-filled grins.

You saw Shoto walk beside Iida, heading towards the two males. Intrigued, you and Uraraka walked towards the group of four.

“Hey,” you say as you hug Shoto from the back, “Everything okay?”

“These two,” Iida said, anger laced in his words, “Ordered everything on the menu.”

You held back your laughter, unlike Uraraka.

“Your skills in predicting the future astound me, Y/N L/N,” she says, covering her mouth.

“Hush,” you say, smiling.

“The two of you…” Iida began, looking at the two wrongdoers, “I don’t know how your closer friends handle you two.”

You look at the scene unfolding in front of you, smiling.

Iida was full-on lecturing the two males, his hands moving in all ten directions. Kaminari and Kirishima just stood there, dumbfounded. You could see the two of them slowly spacing out from the ‘conversation’, but Iida kept going on.

“Hey,” Shoto whispered, “Wanna have a mini-date tonight? I’ll order a few things and get them sent here, and we can watch a movie together?”

“Don’t use the money Aizawa gave though - we don’t need a third victim of Iida’s lectures,” you whisper, earning a smile from the stoic male.

⁜

⁜

⁜

MINI-DATES

You opened the door to Shoto’s room, comfortably dressed in your Axolotl onesie. In your hands, you brought a hard drive filled with movies that you felt that you both would enjoy. Seeing that Shoto wasn’t in the room, you laid on his bed, waiting for the arrival of the owner of the room. Your eyes went straight to his mirror. He had slid multiple polaroid pictures of you and your friends in the corners of the mirror. Each one of the photos had a small remark, reminding you of all the memories you’ve made throughout your years in UA.

Your hands grazed on the photo he kept on the bedside table.

It was a picture of him and his mother smiling.

Your chest panged when you saw it. He had told you the story behind his scar and his life within the Todoroki household. His hatred for his father grew every day, yet he could never hate his mother - the very person who gave him the scar on his face.

“I love that picture, but not as much as I love this one,” Shoto said, pointing at a photo in the top-left corner of his mirror.

It was a picture of both of you visiting his mother with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

“I’ll admit Natsuo was not the most welcoming to the idea of me dating you, but he slowly loved you as a sibling. I did talk about you to Fuyumi a bunch of times, but she had her suspicions - that all changed when she met you, though. Mom…”

He hesitated, “...she didn’t like the idea of me dating anyone. Yet, you managed to make her like you so much, now she only asks about you whenever I call her,” he chuckled.

“My family loves you - except Endeavor, of course,” he groaned.

“He’ll come around, eventually. You, however,” you walk up to him and cup his face, “Need to talk to him properly - no filter, just say everything.”

You lie back down on the bed, patting the space beside you, “Hurry up - the snacks you bought are calling me.”

After multiple small banters, you both finally decided on Shrek and began to watch the movie.

After a while, you found yourself lying on Shoto’s chest, playing with his fingers as you focused on the movie. Shoto, however, stared at your cute expressions, taking mental notes of all the small things you did when a scene disgusted you, made you laugh or made you feel sad.

“Y/N,” he whispered in your ear once the movie ended, “Thanks for loving me.”

You turned to face the fire user, cupping his face in your hands. His fingers found their way in your hair, enjoying the feeling of your soft locks against his calloused skin. Your thumb began to move in circular motions, eager to feel his soft skin against yours. You stared into his dual-coloured eyes, enjoying the brown and icy blue flecks within each eye. He relaxed against your touch, warmth radiating from him to you.

“I love you so much, Sho - and I will no matter what happens later on.”

You shared a kiss under the glow of the pale moonlight, but all you cared about was how perfect the man you were kissing was.

⁜

⁜

⁜

TRAINING

“Hey Sho,” you say, nudging the male beside you, “You wanna train after this?”

“I can’t,” he said, looking down, “I asked Midoriya to help me with some things. The only time he’s free is after this, so…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Uraraka!” you say, kissing him on the cheek, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing with Mido.”

Soon, both you and Uraraka headed to Ground Beta to train your hand-to-hand combat.

“Luckily all of us are vaccinated, or the training grounds wouldn’t be open,” you say, thinking.

“Okay, okay - you wanted to work on hand-to-hand combat, right?” You nodded.

Both you and Uraraka got into your positions, mentally preparing yourselves. You were ready to move towards her until you heard sounds coming from the entrance.

“Well, well, well - isn’t that two students from Class 3-A?” Monoma snickered.

You groaned before turning to face him.

“Hello, Monoma? Where’s Kendo?” you ask, hoping that the ginger would come and stop him.

“Kendo’s eating right now - don’t want to disturb her. I don’t mind messing with the two of you, though.”

“What’s the difference, Monoma?” Uraraka added, “We usually keep quiet, but Y/N and I would like to train, so it would be greatly appreciated if you either kept quiet or left.”

“Why would you want to train with them, though?” He said, looking at Uraraka, “They’re the weakest bitch in your whole class, aren’t they?”

“The fuck, Monoma?!” you shouted, “That’s going a bit too far, don’t you think?”

“What? I’m just stating facts; you entered the class later than everyone else, you’re quirkless since you depend on your weapons, you need to train with others so that you can win 10% of the time - don’t the facts say it all?”

“Monoma, you might want to - ���

“Stop? Why should I?” he laughed, “It’s about time someone told you the truth; you’re useless, unneeded, a waste of space, and never going to be a hero - not even a sidekick.”

“So, the student who single-handedly served you your own ass in a fight doesn’t deserve to stay, but your weak fucking self can stay?” Shoto chuckled darkly, his hand slowly freezing Monoma’s shoulder, “That’s a lot of self-confidence for someone who hasn’t fought well for 3 years straight.”

“Next time you talk shit about Y/N, don’t expect to leave without losing any limbs,” he shouted, scaring Monoma.

“Shoto,” you begin, “Let me fight my own battles.”

He stares at you and sighs. His vice grip on Monoma loosens as you walk towards him.

You run your sword against his hands, small cuts forming.

“Talk shit about me again and you won’t be standing. Get the fuck out, dumbass.”

Monoma runs out of Ground Beta, making you chuckle.

“Damn, Y/N,” Uraraka says from afar.

“That’s my lover,” Shoto says, smiling.

⁜

⁜

⁜

NIGHTMARES

You woke up to the sounds of Shoto whimpering in his sleep.

His clothes were soaked by his sweat, trails of tears strung down his face.

He was shaking - shivering.

Small screams of Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei’s names escaped his lips along with soft sobs.

“Shoto!” You shouted, shaking him, “Wake up, it’s only a dream - they’re okay, they’re alive.”

You heard your name.

You heard his voice become louder, screaming your name in pain.

“I’m here, I’m fine,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m right here, Shoto - I haven’t left you. I am here, hugging you. Wake up, okay?’

You heard his whimpers stop as he wrapped his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into your chest as you patted his head.

“Y/N…” you heard him mumble, “Y/N… you’re fine, right?”

“I’m fine, Sho. I’m here hugging you, aren’t I?”

He nodded, pressing his head against your chest.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No…” he trailed off.

“Okay, don’t worry,” you say, kissing him on his head.

“You want me to get you something? Milk, water…?” you ask him, slowly prying yourself off of him.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Ok then, koala - I’m not going anywhere,” you say, chuckling.

You hummed a song as you rubbed Shoto’s back, giving him warmth. You wiped the trail of tears and pressed kisses on his cheek.

If he needs you to be his haven, you’ll be an oasis from all the bad.

⁜

⁜

⁜

CLASS FUN

“Ok, so - everyone is here, right?” Mina said as she stood in the middle of the living room.

You looked at everyone in the living room. Everyone was excited - after all, it’s been a long time since you all did something together as a class.

“I think everyone’s here, Mina,” Shouji said, passing you your drink.

Shoto placed his head on your shoulder, groaning.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask, worried.

“I wanted to just sleep in today…” he said, sulking.

“Come on, it’s been a long time since we did something as a class - who knows? This might be our last little thing as a class,” you retort.

He hummed in agreement, “Fine.”

“Great! Let’s bring back an old classic, shall we? The game that made all the couples in this classroom, the game that made the impossible possible,” she looked at Bakugou and Izuku, “Spin the Bottle Truth or Dare!”

“This fucking game?” Bakugo cussed.

“Relax, Kacchan~,” Kaminari said, teasing the other blonde.

“Shut up, dunce face,” Bakugo said with anger.

“Keep quiet, you two. Mina’s getting angry,” Kirishima said, eyeing the pink-haired female.

“So what if-”

“Kacchan, shush,” Izuku said, glaring at his partner.

“Thank you, my green-haired savior,” Mina said, smiling at Izuku.

“Let me re-explain how the game works; Person A will spin the bottle in the middle of the circle until it stops on Person B. Person A will play truth or dare with Person B. Clear?” Mina said, smiling.

The game soon spiraled out of control, just like everyone expected.

Kaminari danced in a maid dress, Shinsou was forced to call Aizawa and Present Mic ‘dads’ in a call on speaker, Kirishima was forced to scream “I’m hard!” out loud, and Mina sang Baby Shark to her lover - something we never thought Kirishima would enjoy.

In the last round, the bottle landed on Shoto.

The person who spun the bottle was Sero.

You knew he had something planned - you could see it in his eyes.

“Shoto Todoroki, truth or dare?” He said, smirking.

You looked at him, begging him to not choose dare.

“Truth, I guess?” he said, looking at you.

Phew.

“What do you and Y/N do when you’re alone?”

Shit.

“Take dare, take the dare, take the dare…” you mumbled under your breath, hoping he’d listen.

“Can I take the dare?” Shoto said, questioning your actions.

Phew.

“Make out with Y/N right here.”

Shit.

“Give them some privacy, Sero!” Uraraka shouted on your behalf.

“He already evaded the truth question, I’m not modifying the dare,” Sero said, huffing.

“Y/N,” Shoto said, looking at you, “Is it okay?”

You sigh in frustration, “I put us in this situation, Sho. Let’s just get it over with.”

Shoto smiled, looking at your pissed expression.

“Look at me,” he whispered in your ear, raising small goosebumps on your skin.

His hands slowly went to your cheeks, eyeing the flecks in your eyes - how they sparkled just for him and him alone. His thumb reached your lips and parted it - enjoying how you were putty in his hands. His hand slowly went from your cheek to your chin, raising it to make your forehead meet his.

“Geez, Y/N,” he said, lust filling his eyes, “You’re so perfect.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours. He sucked on your lips, enjoying the strawberry lip balm you put just before you entered the living room. Your hands gripped on his dual-colored hair, fingers entangled.

The soft kiss soon turned desperate, needy.

In, out, in, out - the synchronization of your lips.

The need for breath soon came and your lips parted from his.

“Well, that was something,” you said, laughing.

⁜

⁜

⁜

[blondiest]

🛒 ❌ and 💋

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

i love this question SO MUCH lol.

i think i write about falling asleep / waking up with another person a lot. also, travel (especially driving / road trips), cooking / eating... essentially situations in which characters are close together physically for some reason, especially in a domestic setting. making out in cars seems to come up a decent amount for me too.

i really love exploring the concept of chance occurrences as well. thinking about small things that could be different and, if they were, would end up changing everything is a very interesting theme to me. i've had a lot of small, tiny decisions and moments have enormous impacts on my life.

for example — at what was supposed to be the end of my (awkward) first date with my now-husband, i could pretty much tell that we weren't going to meet up again if we ended the date there, so on impulse i basically invited myself back to his apartment under the thin guise of watching game of thrones because i hadn't seen it. i still haven't seen it actually but i don't think i would be married to him if i hadn't decided to be insane that day!! so i love thinking about happenstance situations that could impact character's relationships with each other, and explicitly exploring the massive changes that can happen in someone's life through a series of small decisions.

more broadly i really love writing impulsivity. those moments where you just push through the anxiety or hesitation and say what you want to are kind of heady and powerful feeling. tangentially tied to this — i like writing characters tipsy or stoned, because it's a good excuse for openness AND i find it really fun to describe 🩷

i really like writing strong feelings in general, and particularly i like exploring the physicality of emotions (like where in the body a character feels anxiety, affection, hope, repair, shame, grief, etc)

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

idk if this really counts as a trope but i don't ever see myself writing an angst fic. like— i'll write some angst, but it's probably gonna be alleviated fairly quickly, and i don't see myself writing an unhappy ending. nothing against fics like that, it just plays to like none of my strong suits as a writer at all 🫣 i actually am not sure how easy it would be for me to even just write a very seriously-toned fic 😔

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

getting together fics are among my favorite to write and read. love them!!!!!!

thank you for the ask!! 🥰

[lilacsandwhiskey]

Angst prompts 12 - Tom 💛

Choices

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: language, angst, not necessarily a happy ending but maybe a part 2 in the works, perhaps?

angst prompt from @your-fluffy-murder-writer

Tom hated the way he couldn’t lay down and feel comfort in what he was sure was the most comfortable bed in the entire city. The hotel room was seemingly too large anymore, knowing there was one less body occupying the room.

He swung his legs over the left side of the bed, his feet hitting the cool carpet. He glanced at the clock. It was only 11:02pm, but everyone else had already fallen asleep in the suite. He tiptoed into the small kitchenette, grabbing a beer out of the fridge, thankfully stocked by Harrison earlier that evening. He took himself out to the balcony, sitting back on the cold metal chair that decorated the outlook.

Tom sighs as he pressed the bottle to his lips, sweat from the bottle falling onto his chest. He’s quick to rub them away before setting the bottle on the tiny garden table in between the two chairs. His fingers fumble with the other side of the chair as he stares at it, as if the one face he wants to see will appear. But he knows it won’t.

His mind takes in the still bustling city below him. He knows if you were here, you’d be whispering softly stories you’d made up about each person that walks around on the street. “They definitely are on their first date.” You’d say at the awkward hand holding couple crosses the street. “She looks like she’d drive a Benz. I’d like to drive a Benz.” Tom found himself letting out a laugh through his nostrils, immediately feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. If only you were here to make those comments.

Tom wondered what you were doing right now. It took everything in him not to call you, for the first time sober. There was no doubt drunken calls had surfaced on the nights he’d gotten absolutely hammered. Harry would try to stop him, but Tom never listened. He’d shove his brother away from him, closing the door and locking himself in there. He wasn’t proud of it. It didn’t exactly help his pride that you never once called back.

“You’ll always choose it over me.” You cried. “Every. Single. Time. You’ll choose anything it all over me.” This wasn’t the first time this had been a fight. Tom groaned, pushing his hand through his brown hair. “It’s my fucking job.” “When will you realize that I know that? But you’ve changed. I haven’t even gotten a text from you in over two weeks. I’m not going to be in a relationship with a radio silent telephone. I deserve more.”

And that’s when you left. You had enough and you finallt chose your feelings over your own. You were supportive of Tom and his endeavors, everything about his job, you supported. It wasn’t until the partying and clubbing commenced more than usual, earning you not even a check in text. You felt selfish for getting upset but you also recognize that what the two of you had going on wasn’t healthy either. If he wanted it to work, he would make it work, you told yourself.

Tom was awoken by clanking in the kitchenette. The place would be home to him for the next two weeks, so there was no question that Harry had ran out to get groceries for the three of you. Tom rolled out of bed, not before grabbing his phone. Did he ever call you last night? He checked. Nope. Thank God.

Tom made the decision then to try to get over you. No response to any of his calls or messages was a response to him. With a shaky sigh, his feet carry him to the kitchen, only to hear the tail-end of a conversation. “I miss when y/n would make us those cheesy eggs in the morning.” Harry said, cracking an egg over the pan. “She’d always put the right amount of cheese.”

With a groan, Tom looks to his brother and best friend. “Don't ever say her name again.” Tom pleads, sitting down at the stool. Tom knew his whim of a decision to forget you would be more difficult than not. Harry and Harrison share a look that goes unnoticed by Tom. “Sorry mate.” Harrison responds, giving Harry one more look.

The rest of breakfast goes as normal as it usually could. Tom craved more than his breakfast though, and the craving was almost overbearing to the real food in front of him. He looked over at the stool next to him, where you would be if you were still with him. He imagined what this morning would look like - the type of morning you’d shared several times before. Your knees pressed into his thigh, feet perched on his own stool instead of yours to get closer. Your body would be turned towards his as you scraped your food off your plate, laughing among the people he loved so much.

One thing Tom struggled the most with, was when you decided to leave, you left the family too. Tom wasn’t sure if you still communicated with him, but there was no doubt some hurt when Tom had announced your break-up. You’d become so close to all of them, that you sitting here next to him in the morning eating breakfast would have been domestic. Your laughter would have lightened the thickened air between all of you. You’d crack a joke or two, pushing Harry’s buttons like you always did.

The first time Tom ever saw Harry genuinely get upset at him was when he told him. Harry took it the hardest - he had grown close to you. Of course, Tom had other girlfriends in the past that Harry had met, but he had never gotten so protective over someone like he had you. He was sure you were it for Tom. So when Tom announced it at a family dinner when his mom was poking about your whereabouts, Harry’s chair screeched loudly, a napkin was thrown on his plate, and out the back door he was to the garden.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you?” Harry hadn’t even turned around to notice Tom’s presence. He knew already. “Why do you assume it was me?” “It’s not an assumption, Tom.” Harry is quick to turn on his feet to meet his older brother. “You pushed and pushed her away. We warned you. She begged for you to give her a sliver of that reassurance you gave her in the beginning but you couldn’t get it through that thick skull of yours.” Harry’s words cut like a knife but Tom knew he was right. “I’m sorry.” Tom whispered. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Harry pushed by his brother, inside to help clean up before he was gone to their own home.

Harry apologized soon after but didn’t fail to mention that he was still pretty upset. To Tom’s knowledge, no one had spoken to you. But that wasn’t true. Harry was the first to reach out, someone you confided in. He was like your little brother after all, you’d spent a few years by their sides. Then everyone found it in them to call or message you. You had ran into Nikki at the grocery store. She spotted you down the aisle looking at pasta. You turned to see that familiar face, that familiar smile. “Y/n.” She said, before you opened her arms and allowed her embrace. She didn’t fail to express how much she missed you, which only made getting over Tom harder.

Leaving Tom was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. When you made the decision, it wasn’t quick. You lingered for months. You thought there would be a change that would snap you back into the relationship you held so dear to your heart.

The phone calls were fairly continuous for a while, a drunken Tom confessing he was wrong. You’d squeeze your eyes shut listening to the messages, telling yourself not to cry. Your finger hovered over his contact several times. But there was one thing you knew - you couldn’t say hello to him and risk another goodbye.

——————

Tom was onset for his newest movie - one about a girl and a boy finding theirselves back to each other after a rough breakup. It was a rom-com, something Tom had always been up for, but it felt different not having you by his side during filming. Though he’d had a rather great break, he spent the majority of it sulking and attempting to prepare.

Tom saw several familiar faces walking onto set, familiar with the director as someone he’d worked with times before. “Where’s the lady?” He asked, shaking Tom’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry’s face drop into a frown, attempting to insinuate that it wasn’t a good subject for now. “Uh, we ended things.” “Oh man, I’m sorry to here that.” The director gave a sympathetic smile before calling for the objective of the scenes today.

Tom felt jittery as it was determined that they would be working on the break-up scene. He stood in front of his co-star, preparing body language to show they were angry. His co-star looks to him, feeding her selves thoughts to bring tears to her eyes.

“You never cared, did you?” She spits. “You know I did.” Tom remembers how small he’s supposed to feel in this moment before the anguish begins. “You are better off without me. Just say it.” “I can’t.” “Why can’t you?” The woman is hiccuping through tears. “Because… I love you.” “You’re pathetic. You’re a liar. You’re lying to me.”

Tom recalls his actions are to become angrier with each degrading comment. But in that moment - he’s sparked. “You really think I don’t love you?” “How could I when you treat me like this?” Tom feels the tears rushing to his eyes, face turning red. “I would do anything for you.” “Then do it! Stop treating me like this!”

This felt all too familiar. A fight way too familiar. The actress is doubled over in tears, and Tom’s character is to feel urged to hold her and apologize. He does, tears streaming down his own face. If only he’d handle your arguments differently. If only his fuse didn’t get the best of him.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Tom mumbles, holding the actress close. He becomes aware of how it’s not you he’s holding. He becomes aware of how this could have been different if he would just listen. The scene continues with mumbles I love yous and a tired girl packing up her clothes.

Tom watches in the corner, real tears falling down his face as he remembers watching you sling things into bags. You had slammed pictures down on the way out. And he knew it was goodbye.

“And… cut! Absolutely beautiful acting, you two! Don’t think we could’ve had you do that better.” The director gushed. Tom was still fed with a lump in his throat. The director reports they can take five, bringing Harrison and Harry walk to the curly-haired boy. “You okay?” Harry asks, squeezing his shoulder.

Tom hesitates, eyes staring forward. “No.” He lets out. “I fucked up. I should’ve handed it all better. Why did I hurt her?” Tom knew people were probably wondering why he was unable to snap back to reality. But that was thing - that conversation had been a reality and it cut too deep.

“I’m in love with her. I am. I know she won’t give me the time of day anymore. But God, I’d do anything for a second chance.” This was the first time Tom had let himself really feel his heartbreak, and he knew it wasn’t the time. So like the great actor he is, he snapped out of his trance and prepared to listen for directions as they called for everyone back.

Tom made his way to the crew, Harrison following close behind. “Keep an eye on him. I’ve gotta call to make.”

Harry walks out into the warm summer sun. He’s quick to pull his phone out and go to the number he needs. With a couple of taps, the phone is ringing. The ring is broken by a simple hello. “Y/n? Hey! Got a minute to talk?”

[dongofthewolf]

Omg I’m sorry for not realizing u had a list 😅 but I wasn’t wondering if u could do 41 with Abby and could u make it like rlly angsty but with some fluff or smut at the end

Everything Good in Life Seems to Lead Back to You

Abby Anderson X Reader

Prompt: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you

Warnings: blood and injury, canon typical violence, swearing, fluff, angst (I tried anon I tried), Owen slander once again (sorry not sorry)

Gender neutral pronoun for the reader (if you’d like your request to use specific pronouns please add to the ask)

Link to the prompt list here

A/N: it’s safe to say that I wrote this with the speed of a thousand blazing horses if that even makes any sense. I hope that you all enjoy this lovely word vomit (esp if you requested) it was a blast to write !!

btw the Virginia Woolf reference is from her letters to Vita Sackville and the Jane Austen one is from Pride and Prejudice. What can I say? I guess I’m just a hoe for old love, baby.

Abby spent a lot of time reading; so much so that she had created this false expectation of what love was supposed to feel like. Abby believed that love was supposed to be strong, and passionate, and bright—an everlasting devotion. Of course she shrugged it off at first, they were just books after all—pieces of fiction to fantasize and dream about. Love wasn’t something you could define in a book nor could it ever live up to the likes of Shakespeare or Virginia Woolf.

Abby had never been in love; she sometimes believes she came close to some iteration of it when she was with Owen, but looking back now she realized that what she felt wasn’t love. It was a desperate attempt to be wanted—to be needed, a manifestation of her desire for approval. And after her falling out with him, Abby had come to accept that she simply wasn���t made for love, and that if by some miracle she ever did fall, it definitely wouldn’t be like the books.

That was Abby’s initial perspective on love, but oh how times have changed. The moment you waltzed into her life, every sad, pathetic notion she had about love was thrown out the window in a matter of seconds. Never in her most outrageous dreams did Abby expect to fall this hard, especially since the two of you were practically best friends.

In fact, it had been very platonic at first; Abby was your superior and you often worked together on missions. She didn’t know what compelled her to talk to you but when she did, the two of you hit it off immediately. You started training together, then working out together, and eventually you were spending almost every minute together. The two of you could literally correctly predict every thought that went through each other's head, all except of course (in Abby’s case) for one. It even got to the point where you both somehow knew when the other couldn’t sleep, so much so that Abby had grown accustomed to opening her door to see you holding a glass of milk and a plate of cookies like a little kid on Christmas. She had spent so many sleepless nights alone only to realize that the one thing she was missing, was you and your adorable midnight snacks.

Abby never entertained the thought of professing her slightly less than platonic feelings for you, because she had become content with the idea that you’d simply never feel the same. However, while she had come to accept her unfortunate situation to be a permanent one, it still hurt her when she saw you flirt with other people. And she’d be lying if she said your absentminded touches didn’t still send her soaring. Sometimes she hated how naturally affectionate you were, it made it so hard for her to not love you.

The box that Abby had continually shoved herself into so she wouldn’t fuck up your friendship was almost starting to feel like home, and as uncomfortable as it was, she knew it was for the best. Almost nothing could compel Abby to leave this torturous, self-inflicted prison she was trapped in. Almost nothing.

—

The mission was supposed to be a simple one: get in, get the weapons, get out. A mission so simple, the both of you could’ve done it in your sleep. In fact, on a few occasions after a long night of drinking, you had practically done just that. You met up with the group of traders who you were well acquainted with, and the deal went down smoothly. Everything was going according to plan, which is why you and Abby were completely caught off guard when a group of rogue hunters suddenly began firing shots like it was a fucking carnival.

Turns out there was a new rival group in town, and someone had tipped them off. You and Abby luckily were able to find cover from their relentless fire, but not before you got a bullet straight through your left thigh. You didn’t even realize it at first, the adrenaline coursing through your veins still working to protect you from the devastating pain that was to come. When you did notice it, you had already lost copious amounts of blood. Then the dizziness began to set in, and soon after the pain. Abby hadn’t even realized you were injured till you slumped over on the ground next to her.

Looking down in horror, Abby lifted you into her arms. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Why are y-” Then Abby noticed the blood, and suddenly she was panicking. “Oh shit. Oh fuck, Y/N we have to get you out of here.”

“T-the package, we need the package. Can’t leave without it.” Your response was weak, desperate. You had to finish the mission, the WLF was in dire need of these supplies and you were not going to be the one to tell Isaac you failed.

“Fuck the package, we need to get you back to base.” Abby removed her belt, turnoqueting your leg with such surprising ease that you nearly didn’t notice the agonizing pain in your leg. Nearly.

You groaned when Abby hoisted you into her arms bridal style, careful not to move your leg too much before she booked it to the truck. When she plopped you down into the passenger's seat and began to speed away from the scene, you suddenly felt your eyes becoming heavier. You were so tired. You had lost so much blood already and your body felt like it was shutting down.

Abby was frantically racing towards the base, eyes fixed to the road until she heard you let out a small whine. “Abby, I‘m so tired. Need to sleep.”

Abby noticed you drifting off and she reached her arm out to shake your shoulder violently. “No. No sleeping, you gotta stay awake Y/N.”

Though Abby didn’t mention it, she was terrified. When she looked over at you, you were pale and cold to the touch, drifting off while your leg continued to bleed profusely despite her tourniquet. This could be it; you could die right now, and Abby would have lost the one person in this world she cared about most. She couldn’t let that happen, she wouldn’t.

You were equally as terrified as Abby; every natural instinct in your body was begging for you to sleep and you were becoming tired of trying to ignore it. The last thing you remembered was the look on the face of the girl you had fallen for, her eyes brimming with tears while she wore a desperate, horrified expression.

—

You laid unconscious for what felt like an eternity and Abby never left your side. She had abandoned her duties (with Isaac’s permission) and spent every second next to you, her head resting on the edge of your bed while she waited for you to wake up. The only thing that prompted Abby to step away was Manny, who had heard what happened and went to check on her.

Manny knew full and well that Abby was in love with you; in fact, almost all of Abby’s friends knew. Abby had confided in him during many torturous nights and he was a surprisingly good listener. He understood her circumstances and never pushed her to confess her feelings for you, even if it did annoy him how oblivious Abby was to the fact that you obviously felt the same way. “Abby, I heard what happened. Is everything okay?”

Abby was exhausted, she hadn’t slept at all since you made it back to the base and she couldn’t get the memory of your cold, pale body out of her head. “I almost lost them, Manny. Y/N could’ve died out there without ever knowing how I feel about them.” Tears threatened to fall but Abby did her best to keep her composure.

“It’s going to be okay, Abby. Y/N’s here and they’re alive, and that’s all that matters.” Manny’s hand was on Abby’s shoulder, trying his best to comfort her. “You should tell them how you feel though.”

“Huh?” Abby hadn’t expected that. Manny knew her situation well enough to know that telling you how she felt was a bad idea… It was a bad idea, right?

“It’s like you said, Y/N could’ve died without ever knowing how you feel about them. Wouldn’t it be better to have no regrets at all?” The words stopped Abby in her tracks. She never thought she’d actually agree with Manny.

“It’s just- I love Y/N so much, and I don’t want to lose them this way.” Abby was on the brink of tears, her voice turning into a desperate plea.

“I’m not going anywhere Abs.”

Abby froze, turning around slowly. You were gripping to the doorway for support, limping on one leg and looking extremely weathered.

“Y/N!” Abby immediately ran to put your arm around her shoulder while she carried you back to your bed, setting you down carefully. “You shouldn't be on your leg, you could make it worse.”

There was genuine concern on Abby’s face and in that moment you weren’t sure you could love her any more than you already did. She was so incredibly sweet and caring and no one had ever shown this much concern for your safety and well-being. You had heard her through the door and you couldn’t stop yourself from interrupting her. There was so much about Abby you absolutely adored and she had no idea. How could she not have known you were hopelessly in love with her? Was she truly that oblivious to your obvious flirting? All the subtle touches, the pathetic excuses to sleep in her bed, the fact you literally went out of your way to find rare coins so you could bring them back to her, it all just flew over her head. You couldn’t believe it.

Abby was still rambling about your leg, clearly trying to pretend like she didn’t just profess her love for you while you were standing right behind her. Instead of speaking, you wrapped your hands around her neck before leaning in, silencing her with a kiss so perfect you could’ve passed out right there. You could tell she was stunned at first, but soon enough she was kissing you back. Her fingers were running through your hair and when you pulled away she leaned her forehead against yours, not wanting to part from you.

“Did you mean it?” You pulled away to look Abby in the eyes, your hands still wrapped around her shoulders.

Abby had a dumbstruck look on her face. “Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me, did you mean it?” Your eyes searched her face for an answer while your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

Abby smiled, her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke. “Y/N, I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I’m so hopelessly in love with you that it’s almost pathetic. You have no idea how essential to me you have become—how many nights I’ve stayed awake because you weren’t there to hog all the blankets. Y/N, you have no idea how ardently I love you.”

You smirked “Abigail Anderson did you just quote Virginia Woolf and Jane Austen?” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Abby could be such a nerd sometimes.

“I just confessed my ever-lasting love for you and that’s the first thing you say?” Abby was smiling widely now, relief flowing through her now that she no longer had to conceal her feelings for you.

“I love you too Abs, so fucking much. Also I do not hog the blankets, your comforter is simply too small.” Abby chuckled before she leaned in for another kiss, the worry suddenly disappearing the moment her lips touched yours.

Although Abby had never really known what she expected love to be, this is what she imagines it’d feel like, and you bet your ass it was better than the books. To tell the truth, it was better than any other conceivable thing on this entire planet. Nothing could beat the way Abby felt now that she had finally broken free from her excruciating self-inflicted prison.

Abby pulled away from the kiss, gazing at you lovingly. “Are you hungry?”

God damn Abby, it was like she knew exactly what you were thinking. You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious for, but you were ravenous. “Starving.”

And almost as if you were telepathically communicating, the both of you spoke at the exact same time.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies.”

[chaoticminhos]

maybe i do

--”even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.”

pairing: lee know x reader

genre: angst, fluff, a smut scene 

warnings: none

word count: 16.3k

a/n: arraigned marriage with minho was requested, as was breeding/pregnancy kink with him :) I didn’t make the pregnancy kink a big part bc the smut scene is small but i hope you like it anyway, anon!! I can always write a separate fic, too. there’s never too many minho fics <3

eighteen. that’s when you were expected to choose a partner. you’d just turned of age, and as an adult, you were now supposed to be getting ready to take the throne. with a partner, of course.

a very specific partner, specific to the point that all choice given to you to make you feel like you were in control meant absolutely nothing. 

you needed to find a man, first of all. a single man, one that wasn’t already set to be married. he had to have power, at least as much or more power than you had. he needed to have wealth. you needed to find yourself a handsome, wealthy prince from one of your neighboring kingdoms, and your parents had to like him. as much as your parents said you were in full control of choosing your suitor, you knew you were not the one making the calls. not a single one of them.

there was only one person who matched all of these criteria. there was only one boy you whose name would be on your list of potential suitors and your parents knew it just as well as you did.

you could try just simply not writing lee minhos name down, not selecting a husband at all, but it would be futile. eventually, if you hadn’t selected a worthy candidate to marry, one would be decided for you.

without a doubt, minho would be the one selected, whether you wrote it down or your parents signed his name for you.

you didn’t have anything against minho specifically. he was no more intolerable than any of the other royal children you’d met. if anything, he was actually easier to be around. it’s just that you were expected to be fond of him.

you were ordered by your parents to love him, and that in itself made you want to despise him.

along with your side of the selection, minho also had to choose you. if he didn’t, you would just have to wait until someone else came along. it wasn’t just you looking for a partner, he was in search as well. the difference was that he had been in search for nearly a year and he had willingly selected you.

minho wasn’t the first in line to be king of his home kingdom, his oldest brother was. he was already married and set to be crowned in the coming months. instead, if minho ever wanted to be a king, he needed to find a woman to marry who was set to become queen.

luckily for him, you were the oldest daughter in a family that had no sons.

as the eldest sibling in a family of no boys, you were in line to lead. but according to the rules, you couldn’t lead without a man to stand beside.

in all logic, minho had to choose you just as much as you needed to choose him. of course, if both of you resented each other, the wedding could be held off until you resolved the conflict. or even cancelled. you might be given a few more years of freedom before another man who fits your parents wants walks into their life or ages old enough to marry.

much to your dismay, however, minho did choose you. even before it was brought to his attention that he was your only option, that you would remain single for an unknown amount of time unless he married you, minho chose you. the second he noticed your name on the list of possible brides, which was much longer than your list of possible husbands, he had his mind set on you.

and after finding out that you had no one to choose but him, minho was sure he was going to get what he wanted.

you clenched your jaw and took your place at the table, glancing at the seat beside you that had been saved for minho.

“we want you two to get to know each other more before the wedding,” your mother said, “and he’s such a sweet boy.”

“i haven’t even chosen him as my fiancé yet, mom.”

she sent you an apologetic smile, both of you knew it didn’t matter what you chose.

you sat biting your lip and playing with the frills on your dress for quite some time before minho and his parents entered the room, escorted by four of the palace guards. 

he looked different than when you had last seen him. taller. it had only been a year or so, but you could clearly see changes. his jaw line was more defined and he had finally learned how to tie a tie so it wasn’t crooked. his eyes, though. even from across the room, you could see that his eyes were the same.

you smiled and sent a small wave towards one of the guards as they turned to leave. minho must have thought you were waving at him, and he waved back, a huge smile plastered on his pretty lips.

you were aware that he had already put your name down as his official choice of brides, practically robbing you of any chance you had of not being forced into marriage, and you knew he was probably equally aware that you had yet to write down his name, even though it was the only one you had. 

you held back a laugh at minho waving at you, not having the heart to tell him you were waving to felix and not him as he made his way around the table and to you. you let yourself smile though. no matter how much you wanted him to hate you as much as you hated the idea of marrying him, you couldn’t be downright rude. not when the parents were watching, at least.

you stood to greet him, sending your now-forced smile in his direction. you went to shake his hand, but instead, he pulled you into a tight hug. it was short, so short that you didn’t have the time to return the hug, not that you would have wanted to. 

you sat back down and looked up to greet his parents sitting across from the two of you on your big table. your own parents were sat on the ends of the table, your father to your left and mother to your right. neither your nor minhos siblings were present.

there was no time for conversation before the cook was bringing out the food. it was nothing fancy, per your request. he brought all of the food out at once, minus the desert, instead of in different courses. 

you half expected minho to say something about the way the meal was brought out in a way that wasn’t considered the most elegant, but he didn’t. instead, his eyes went wide as he spotted the roasted chicken set down in the middle of the table.

his mother observed his behavior and laughed, “y/n, how did you know minho’s favorite food? i don’t remember sending a letter containing his favorites.”

you frowned slightly, “i didn’t, i just chose my favorite.”

at your words, your mothers shared a glance, one that said, “they’re perfect for each other.”

your father was the next to speak, “minho, why don’t you cut the chicken for us.”

once again you anticipated some sort of reaction out of the boy. he had been asked to cut the chicken when there were waiters standing all around that could most likely do it much neater than he could. it was another thing you had specifically requested to happen in order to judge his reaction. but again, to your surprise, he smiled, stood up, and began to cut even strips off of it, passing them out around the table.

he turned to you, “how much do you want?”

you ignored the softness in his voice, one that you could see yourself growing fond of if you didn’t resent the idea of loving him so much already.

“i can get my own.”

he didn’t even flinch at your response, chuckling as he cut a piece off of the bird and guided it to your plate. you had to keep yourself from pouting as you looked down at it. he’d given you just as much as you wanted.

he was making it very difficult to keep a bitter attitude towards him when he was doing everything right. how were you supposed to convince your parents he would be a terrible husband when acted like the perfect one?

after serving himself, minho reclaimed his seat beside you. you served yourself to the rest of the food as it was passed around, handing the bowls to minho when you were finished. you took notice of the way he chose food. he took a little of everything, as if he wanted to taste all of the foods you had requested to be made for his visit. you asked him about it.

“trying everything, minho?”

you dropped his formality. you should have predicted that he would take it as a sign that you were comfortable with him rather than a petty disrespect in the way you’d meant.

he nodded, sending a soft smile towards you, “i assume your chose all your favorites, princess, so i want to try them all.”

you would have blushed if someone you were fond of said it, but you weren’t blushing. no, the heat in your face was just there because the room was warm from all of the bodies and hot food.

one of the waiters came around with a bottle of wine and some glasses, offering one to everyone at the table. of course, everyone accepted, it was impolite not to, but you couldn’t help but notice that minho didn’t touch his glass as often as the rest of you.

by the time you were smiling up at the waiter as he poured you a second glass, minho still had yet to finish even half of his first. 

you ate in casual conversation until all of you had your fill. the table was slowly cleared and the meals were replaced with a small array of sweets. 

minho nudged you, pointing at one of the trays.

“what’s this?”

you were caught off guard by his voice. it was soft, timid, almost like he was embarrassed that he didn’t know what the dessert was.

“pumpkin bars.”

he nodded, “are they your favorite?”

you shrugged, shaking your head, “kinda. they’re not my favorite to eat, but i love baking them.”

his eyes widened, “you made these?”

you shook your head again, a small laugh leaving your lips. as much as you tried to stay short and serious with him, you couldn’t.

“no, but i know how.”

he paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the table before he turned to you once more, “can you teach me?”

your brows furrowed, “to make pumpkin bars?”

he nodded.

never mind. you definitely could be short with him. 

what was he playing at? why was he behaving exactly in the way you’d want him to in every obstacle you threw at him? he couldn’t actually be that good. first, he wasn’t offset by the untraditionally casual meal or being asked to serve the main dish himself, and now he was showing interest in something you liked to do. something that was considered low level, something that a princess should never have to do. and now he was asking if you would show him how?

no, he had to be faking. any walls that had been broken down by his timid voice and him making you laugh were thrown back up.

“you don’t want to bake.”

it was his turn to frown.

he reached out to stop your arm as you went to grab a slice of pie.

“what do you mean? yes i do.”

you pulled your wrist from his grip, speaking lowly so only he would hear. 

“well i don’t want to teach you.”

you missed the expression that crossed his face as you reached across the table to grab the dessert you wanted.

he didn’t say anything more. he just reached for the pie spatula as you went to set it down. his fingers grazed yours as he took the tool from your hand and you were violently aware of it, of how his fingers against your skin seemed to send a shock through your body.

he set a piece on his plate and took a bite, glancing at you. you hadn’t even registered that you had been watching him until he did. 

“how is it?”

he nodded in approval, “it’s good. do you know how to make pies, too?”

“yes. i can make most every dessert our cooks can.”

he held your gaze as he smiled at you.

you frowned, averting your eyes from his and back to your plate, “what?”

“nothing.” he began, “i just think it’s interesting that you’re so into baking now. last time we spoke you were crazy about the gardens.”

you shrugged, “who says i can’t love both?”

there was a pause before, to your surprise, you kept the conversation going.

“do you still practice archery?”

he nodded, swallowing a bite of his pie before responding.

“i can out shoot almost all of our archers.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips, “who says they’re not letting you win?”

he playfully shoved you and you laughed.

“fine, then you go against me.”

you shook your head, “anyone could beat me in archery.”

he seemed to think for a moment before softly nudging you, “i could give you some tips?”

you almost found yourself accepting his offer before you caught yourself. you were not supposed to be enjoying his company.

“i don’t need your help. if i wanted to learn i would have one of my guards teach me.”

the way his expression fell made something in your chest ache and you hoped his parents hadn’t heard the remark. you felt bad for a moment, it wasn’t his fault that you were being forced to marry him.

then a thought crossed your mind- it kind of was.

he played by their rules and pretended to be excited to marry you, but that’s not what he wanted. he knew the perks that came along with marrying you. it wasn’t you he was excited for, it was the power and status that came along with marrying you. how could he be excited to marry you when he barely knew you? he couldn’t. all he wanted was to be king, and you gave him that option. he didn’t try to fight it. maybe if he fought it like you did, you wouldn’t be forced into it. or at least not so soon.

the fact that his cooperation was only securing your unwanted future was enough to wipe that sting from your chest.

you finished the rest of your dessert in silence, listening in on your parents conversations and trying not to scream at every mention of the upcoming wedding you didn’t want to have.

“has he picked out a ring yet?” 

“no,” his mother responded, “he wanted to get to know her better first. he wants it to be perfect.”

you finished your food and pushed the plate away from you, letting the waiters know they could collect it. all of the adults were already done eating. minho finished soon after, having taken longer as he savored every bite. this left the table without food and full of conversation. 

minho only spoke again when your mother addressed him.

“is there a specific type of flower you want at the ceremony?”

he spoke softly, kindly. you could see exactly why your mother loved him so much. even without him being the only choice, he probably would have been her first choice for you.

“yes. i love lilies.”

you took a deep breath to keep yourself from blowing up, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he kept having the same favorites as you. someone told him so he could better bond with you. 

your mom knew how badly you didn’t want this wedding to happen, she probably send his family a letter of ways to win your favor.

“it would be the perfect time to have the ceremony outside,” minho’s mother gushed, “the green suits them both.”

your dad laughed, “every color suits our y/n.”

“what color were you thinking, dear?” your mother turned to you.

your eyes shot to her. you were about to snap that you didn’t care about colors because you hoped there would be no wedding to coordinate colors to, but minhos parents were in the room. you couldn’t risk upsetting them and throwing off the good relationship your kingdoms had simply because you didn’t want to marry their son.

cutting off the marriage would be one thing. if it was mutual, it wouldn’t harm any relationships between the kingdoms. it would just stall your transition to power until you were forced against another possible husband. insulting him in front of his parents, however, might.

instead, you opted to look over at minho and pull a false smile onto your features.

“i think purple would suit him well.”

his parents didn’t catch the falseness of your cheerful tone or the way the smile on your lips was obviously forced, but minho did.

“oh, you’re so right!”

you asked one of the servants for the time and stood up.

“mom, i need to water my plants. may i?”

she nodded gesturing to the boy beside you, “take minho with you.”

you nodded, turning to leave the room without waiting for him. you heard your mother mutter something about your own little garden that you refused to let the staff tend for instead of  doing it yourself.

minho caught up as you were partly down the hallway. 

“y/n, is something wrong?”

you stopped, nearly causing him to crash into you.

“is something wrong? minho, this whole thing is wrong.”

he frowned, following again as you made your way to the garden entrance, “what do you mean?”

you opened the door to the garden a little harsher than you probably needed to and began filling a watering jug, “people should be able to fall in love before marriage.”

he shrugged, “there’s plenty of time for you to fall in love with me before the ceremony.”

you sent a glare towards him, “i want to choose who i love, minho.”

“then choose me.”

you shook your head, choosing not to respond. he followed you across the garden and to a small, fenced off patch that he assumed to be your personal garden.

you could feel his eyes on you as you went around and checked the soil around each plant before watering the ones that needed it. he wasn’t saying anything, he was just watching you. you let him stand in silence.

he followed you back to the entrance where you sat your watering can down and to a small bench where he took his seat beside you.

you put some distance between the two of you when he sat down right next to you and he noticed, just as he had noticed every other less than loving way you’d reacted to each of his attempts to show affection.

his chest tightened, why did you hate him so much? he thought you two were on good terms. the last time you saw each other, you laughed and joked with him. what was different now? was the idea of marrying him really that bad? 

maybe you were just nervous. 

people handle nerves differently, he reminded himself, maybe yours just made you snappy. it wasn’t anything to worry about. plenty of people had second thoughts before their weddings. you just had to get used to him was all, since you hadn’t seen each other in so long. then you would go back to joking with him and your he happy to have him as your husband.

he was shaken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you don’t drink much?” you were referring to the glass of wine he had barely finished during dinner.

he shook his head, “it makes my mind foggy.”

you chuckled. he liked the sound. somehow, it was sweeter knowing that it was because of him.

“isn’t that what alcohol is supposed to do?”

he smiled, “i guess. but i wanted to be able to see you clearly.”

something akin to butterflies woke up inside your stomach. you ignored them as you stood abruptly, heading immediately for the door. he followed you out of the garden and back to the dining room where your families were seated. they turned as you stepped through the door.

“mother, it’s getting late and they have a long ride home.”

minho said nothing, standing at your side like it’s where he belonged, once again too close for comfort.

his parents agreed, standing along with your parents and thanking them for having them over. his mother hugged you goodbye at the front door before stepping into a carriage with her husband and son.

you were thankful that minho hadn’t tried to hug you goodbye. or much worse, kiss you.

he spent the carriage ride home wishing he had.

it was only a matter of days before his family was visiting again. since minho would be living in your castle with you, your parents decided it was best to have him visit you again rather than you go to his kingdom.

“y/n, the lees will be here soon, get dressed!” 

“i am dressed.”

“then get out here!”

you groaned and chan laughed beside you.

“stop laughing at my pain.” you scolded him, “i’ll have you fired from the guard.”

he laughed again, “you would never. who would protect you then?”

you grumbled as you straightened your dress and opened the door, “felix. woojin. seungmin. literally any of the other guards.”

he pouted, coming to stand next to you as you walked down the hallway and to the front where you would be greeting minho.

he was going to complain, but you cut him off when you saw minho and his family standing near the doorway.

“go join the others.” you told chan, “but be on watch. you might need to save minho from me if he acts like he was last time.”

chan laughed, heading to stand with the rest of the guards.

minho noticed the friendly interaction and smiled. he liked how you were always so nice to the servants. he noticed it during the meal too, when you smiled and joked with the waiter.

“sorry to keep you waiting.” you bowed politely to his parents.

you turned to minho, “hello.”

a big smile spread across his features, “hi again, my love.”

he had taken a risk with those being the first words out of his mouth. he thought that maybe seeing him again and time to adjust had gotten you used to the idea of him. he thought maybe your attitude would have changed towards him.

he was wrong. although you couldn’t make a point of showing it in front of his parents, he could see by the slight change in your eyes at the choice of the name that he was definitely wrong.

“would you kids leave the adults to talk for a while?” your mother spoke.

she placed one hand on your shoulder and the other on minho’s, “you can go wherever you’d like, just stay clear of your bedroom.”

your face flushed red and glared at your mom as minhos parents laughed. was she trying to embarrass you? did she think you’d laugh at the joke? it wasn’t funny.

knowing you wouldn’t last long without blowing up with teasing like that, you took a hold of minho’s hand and drug him away from your parents. you allowed him to walk beside you this time instead of rushing to be in front of him, but you dropped his hand practically as soon as you’d taken it.

he’d assumed the garden was your destination, so when you walked past the doorway to the giant greenhouse, he spoke up.

“where are we going?”

“i don’t know yet.”

you ended up at the base of a staircase that lead to the roof of the castle. without questioning you, he followed you up the stairs and to the open roof. you were immediately met with a burst of cold air, but the longer you stood in the wind, the easier it became to handle. 

you followed minho as he made his way across the roof and towards the edge, throwing his legs over and sitting with them dangling down as he took in the view.

he probably expected to go sit with him, so you did. that in no way meant you were going to begin complying with everything, it just meant that you were choosing to be civil in that moment.

he noticed as you glanced back at the door you’d entered the roof from.

“what is it?”

“my mother must have told my guards not to follow us.”

he shrugged, “why would you need guards when you’re with me?”

you huffed, “in case i decide to bite your head off.”

he laughed at the remark, and even though you hadn’t intended it as a joke, you laughed along with him. something about his laugh made it impossible to sit there with a scowl on your face.

“tell me what’s so bad about me, then.”

a teasing grin spread across your face as you looked at him, “god, where do i start...”

he gestured for you to continue, but your mind ran blank. what exactly was so bad about him? the majority of your issues weren’t with him in specific.

then one thing popped into your mind like a big red flag.

“you’re forcing me into marriage.”

he frowned, “i don’t think so, not really. if i refused to marry you, you would simply wait another year or two as a princess until your parents were able to find another prince for you.” he paused, “in some ways, i actually think i’m saving you.”

“saving me?” you scoffed out.

“yes. from some creep you might be forced to marry instead of me if i decline as harshly as you are.”

“who says you’re not a creep, lee minho?”

his face morphed into faux offense, “my mother says i’m quite the gentleman, thank you very much.”

you let out a small chuckle before responding. he did have a point, you were going to be forced into a marriage eventually, whether it be this one or not. at least you knew him. was a couple extra years of freedom worth marrying someone you didn’t know at all? or would it be wisest to settle for minho? 

either way, you still didn’t understand why you needed a man at all to lead.

“why can’t i just lead alone? i don’t need a king.”

“there’s two thrones for a reason.”

he saw the confusion across your face and continued.

“two leaders is safer than one. it requires compromise and thought, not just one person making the choices according to their opinion only.”

you nodded, and you hated how much his explanation of everything was making sense. 

“it’s the same reason they make a king marry before taking the throne if they can help it.”

there was a short pause before he spoke again, “i mean, technically, if both of your parents died right now, there would be no option other than to send you to the throne alone. and as the queen, no one could tell you to get married. but unless you want to assassinate your parents,” he brought his hand to rest on top of yours, “you’re stuck with me.”

ignoring the searing heat of his skin touching yours, you narrowed your eyes up at him as you spoke.

“you make it tempting.”

he laughed again, and this time you had intended for it to be humorous. 

it was cleared now why things were the way they were. it would have been so much easier if your parents took a second to explain it in the way minho had. he was very good with explaining things, a talent a good king needs to have.

maybe he wouldn’t be so bad to lead with.

still, you didn’t resent the situation any less than you had before understanding it.

you turned from the view of the mountains to find minho already staring back at you. it wasn’t until you noticed the way the sun framed his face that you noticed how quickly the sun had been setting, had you really been outside with him that long?

you traced the lines of his face with your eyes, admiring the way the sun sat on his skin as if it was made for the purpose. 

you frowned in confusion as the shapes across his face began to grow, and before you could register it, his lips were only moments away from yours. you reacted quickly, thankful that he had paused to give you the option to do so.

he didn’t seem surprised as the palms of your hands connected to his chest, pushing him away from you. 

you stood from the edge, dusting off your dress and motioning to the door.

“i’m not supposed to be outside at dark without my guards.”

you knew that that didn’t matter, your parents trusted minho to keep you safe, that’s the whole reason they didn’t feel the need to send guards with you in the first place. you figured he probably knew that too, but he didn’t comment on it. instead, he nodded, following you to the staircase and opening the door for you, walking with you around the castle as you looked for your parents.

you found them in the first place you looked, the lounge. you waited for a pause in their conversation before making yourself known.

“it’s getting dark, shall i ask for the carriage?”

your mother sent you a worried smile as your dad spoke.

“sweetheart, they’re staying the night. we’ll have a carriage sent to take king and queen lee home in the morning.

you frowned, glancing at minho. he shrugged.

“the king and queen? what about minho?”

“he’ll be living here from now on. he might as well get used to his new home.”

your face fell.

“what about my things?” minho questioned. he seemed much more calm about the news than you, but he didn’t seem to know any more about the situation.

his mother waved the question off, “i sent for some carriages with your things as soon as we made the decision for you to remain here. they’ve already arrived and are waiting to be unpacked.”

“where are they?” he questioned.

his mother laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“your bedroom.”

“where is that?”

your dad cut in, “y/n can show you.”

that’s when it hit you- his bedroom was your bedroom. that’s why your mother had told you to stay clear of it. she had anticipated the conversation about minho staying and wanted the area to be clear if they chose to move his things in. your mother hadn’t meant it as a joke at all, she said it as an order.

trying to hide your frustration, you grabbed minho’s hand and turned to leave.

“we’ll start to unpack now!”

you ignored both your and his parents calls as you dragged him down the hallways and to your bedroom. 

the first thing you noticed was that some of your personal items were being carried out of the door as you watched. things that made your bedroom yours. stacks of books you loved to read and even piles of papers containing words of your own were being handled by random personnel. not even your own guards, staff you had never met was handling your personal things. it would be one thing if it was chan or one of your friends moving things out, but it wasn’t. you hadn’t even seen chan or the rest of your guard since you greeted minho when he arrived.

their soul job was to protect you, and they had been relieved of duty while you were with minho, so why couldn’t they have been the ones to handle your things? it would still have upset you, obviously, but it would have been far less intrusive to have people you know and trust doing it.

you felt tears brimming in your eyes. your parents knew how much you valued privacy, and yet they let people you’d never even seen on the property handle everything you valued. 

minho’s eyes were just as attached to the scene ahead of you until he heard a soft whimper leave your lips. immediately, he had his arms around you and your face buried in his chest.

you wanted to pull away, to shove him and curse at him for coming into your life like this, but instead, you gripped the fabric of his button up shirt and let him hold you close.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair, “i didn’t know.”

and then he did something you would never have expected.

“excuse me!” he called, his authoritative voice echoing down the hallway, “you can stop now. put whatever is in your hands down and leave.”

the movers hesitated, not knowing whether or not to follow his commands yet, but they ended up obeying. he stopped one of the men as he moved to walk past the two of you, you still secure and crying into his chest.

“where did you put the things you moved?”

the worker gestured to the things in the hall outside your bedroom, “everything we moved is in this hallway, your royal highness.”

“and my things?”

“waiting for you further down the hall.”

he nodded and let the man leave before slowly pulling you off of him. he felt a squeeze in his heart as you looked up at him with red, tear filled eyes. 

he led you into your room, “let’s get you to your bed.”

you let out a small sob at his words, “that’s not my bed.”

he was confused for a moment before it registered in his mind. they must have switched out your old bed in favor of a larger one to suit the both of you, even though the one you had before would have no doubt done the job fine. you’d probably had a queen at the smallest.

the longer minho held you, the less you wanted to push him away and blame him for everything that was happening.

he walked you over to the bed and sat you down, taking a seat beside you so you could remain attached to him.

he knew that it wasn’t him you found comfort in, but rather just a warm body to hug. still, having you so close to him felt so right, he couldn’t bring himself to care. it felt like you were finally responding to him like a woman should to her fiancé. you were letting him take care of you.

truth be told, if he could have scooped you up in his arms the day he first saw you after learning you were to be his wife a few days prior, he would have, and he never would have let go. 

when he saw your name on the piece of paper handed to him, he didn’t even read the rest. even before opening the letter, your name had popped into his mind. he’d always had a childish crush on you. even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.

so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.

as he moved you up the bed and snuggled himself in beside you before pulling the covers up to keep you warm, he wondered if maybe tonight would change that.

maybe you would realize that you liked the feeling of being in his arms, of having him hold you close. as your sniffles became softer and eventually stopped, he wondered if you’d realize that falling asleep next to him was something you could get used to.

because oh goodness, after falling asleep with you in his arms, even though the both of you were still in uncomfortable cloths and had fallen asleep upset, he didn’t ever want to go to bed without you again.

you were woken up only a little while after falling asleep to the sound of soft knocking on your door. minho stirred beside you and you both sat up to see who it was.

both of your mothers were standing in the doorway with adoration in their eyes at the sight in front of them. 

“and here i thought you’d be upset over the room.” your mother cooed as she made her way into the room.

you shifted yourself away from minho and you could have sworn you heard a whine of complaint come from him as your body lost contact to his. or maybe it was you.

his mother approached the bed as well, taking hold of his collar and straightening it out.

“goodness, you two didn’t even bother to change into sleep clothes.”

minho responded before you could, “we hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“what time is it?” you added.

“not late,” your mother responded, “it was still only 10:30 when we headed up to check on you.”

you nodded, and as the sleep wore off, the anger kicked in. before you burst, you stood and ushered them out of the room.

“i’ll get changed now, then, and then we can organize and unpack a little tonight.”

“we can help!” his mother chimed.

before you could deny the offer, minho did.

“no mother, we want to set up our bedroom ourselves, please.”

happy with the response, she nodded and followed your mother out of the room and back to wherever your fathers were waiting.

minho stood from the bed and looked into your closet.

“it doesn’t look like any of my clothes are here yet, so i’ll leave you to change. i can find something in a box and i’ll find a place to change.”

you nodded as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

you sat on the edge of your bed for a moment before standing up and grabbing the same sleep clothes you wore every night. they had already been washed in the morning and pressed dry, ready for you to use again.

you tried to undo the buttons on the back of your dress, but you couldn’t reach. chan had helped you do them earlier in the day. you reached your arm over the opposite shoulder in an attempt to reach the buttons, straining the fabric of the dress in a weird way. you heard the sound of stitches coming undone and pulled your arm back into a normal position, inspecting the place the noise had come from. sure enough, there were little pieces of thread hanging around a small tear in the arm of your dress.

defeated, you sat down on your bed and waited for minho to return. it wasn’t long before he did, signaling his presence with a couple soft knocks to the door. you called for him to come in and he did, pausing in surprise when he saw you still in the dress, your night clothes bundled in your hands.

“i can’t reach the buttons.”

he threw his head back in understanding, taking a few steps towards you as you turned your back to him, moving your hair out of the way of the buttons. 

you didn’t know what you’d expected, but the gentle touch of his fingers against your neck as he undid the top button sent a shiver through you. you hoped he didn’t notice, but by the way his movements stopped for a split second before continuing, you knew he had.

he undid the buttons until there were none left, leaving the top half of your back exposed to him where your dress fell open. his eyes ghosted over your shoulder blades and the smooth skin of your back. he wanted to place his palm there, to feel the warmth of your skin in more than just the tips of his fingers. he actually might have, despite his best judgement, if you hadn’t spoke up.

“are you done?”

he muttered a soft word of confirmation as you turned to face him again, hands holding the fabric to your chest to pretend it from falling off. 

he stared at you for a moment before reality seemed to flow back into his head.

“let me know when you’re done.”

you nodded, waiting until he pulled the door closed behind him to let the dress fall to the floor. you took your time changing. it felt nice to be alone. after a few minutes, though, an unexpected feeling built up in your chest. it was nice to be alone, but you missed minhos company. or maybe you just missed company.

that was it, you told yourself, you just missed having someone around. your resolve was not breaking this quickly. you were upset and frustrated with how things were going and he was just as good as anyone, except maybe chan, to keep you company.

you called out for him to come back in and he did, immediately taking the clothes you’d just changed out of and setting them in a bin outside your door where they would wait until someone came and took them for cleaning. 

you followed him to the door, heading right for a pile of books that had been taken off of your personal bookshelf. luckily, they hadn’t moved the shelf out of your bedroom yet, so you only had the books to carry back in.

you did the same for a few other things, things that you couldn’t imagine not having in your room, before turning to minho.

“what do you want moved in next?” he asked.

“something of yours.”

he was shocked by your reply, almost as if he had expected you to return your bedroom to the way it was before he arrived and pretend his things didn’t exist.

sure, you didn’t like that you had to remove your things from your room to make room for his stuff, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it right then. it wasn’t your room anymore. it belonged to the both of you.

at least until you could convince your parents to cancel the wedding, that is. that was still the plan.

“uh, okay,” minho began down the hallway, scanning his things as he did. he finally settled on a pretty, dark wooded desk. it had drawers along the side and it looked very used. you were surprised his parents let him keep it with how old it looked. it must have been important to him.

he insisted that he could carry it alone, but eventually he let you help. it fit perfectly in the room, almost like it was meant to be there. you placed it a couple feet away from your own desk, which was a similar color. it was a similar build too, with drawers on the sides.

back in the hallway, minho sighed as he attempted to move a large bookcase of his.

“we can’t move this alone. it can wait until morning.”

you nodded, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

“there’s room on mine, if you want. we can put this in storage and you can put your books with mine. there’s no need for two bookcases in one room.”

he was slightly taken aback by your offer, but nodded. he liked that you were getting used to sharing. getting used to it being not just your room, but his too. maybe you had changed your mind about him already.

“okay,” he agreed, “then we can take some books in.”

you grumbled, “but only one load. then we’re done for tonight.”

he laughed, assuring you that it was the last load of the night and walking back to the bedroom beside you, books in hand.

you helped him organize the books on the shelf, interlocking them with yours when it looked best to do so. the bookshelf was still quite empty, but that was fine. you had more books somewhere in the hall that you hadn’t bothered to search for and he had more, too.

you sat down on the bed, still messed up from your little nap, and sighed, but you didn’t say anything.

instead, minho did. after a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, he sat down beside you and spoke.

“why won’t you let me kiss you?”

you were surprised by the sudden question, “you only tried once.”

“you’d only push me away again if i tried another time.”

“you gave me the chance to push you away.”

“because i knew you would.”

“then why try?”

“because i want to kiss you. why don’t you want to kiss me?”

you faltered at the confidence in his words. sure, his earlier actions had made it clear he wanted to kiss you, he wouldn’t have tried to otherwise, but hearing him say it out loud felt different. it made it click in your mind that he meant it, that it was real.

“i don’t- i already told you.”

“no you didn’t.”

“yes, i did.” you insisted, “i told you. i don’t want to be in a relationship that’s forced.”

and there it was. despite the progress he thought he’d made with you, there it was. that same angry, bitter attitude towards whatever relationship you two had. 

he shoved the disappointment down his throat and replied, “then don’t force it. i’m not.”

he said it casually, just like he said and did everything else he did around you. his laid back demeanor gave the illusion that maybe his words were honest. maybe he wasn’t forcing anything he felt for you, maybe he genuinely did look forward to the wedding, and not only for the power. you shoved the thought from your mind, looking forward to marrying you and looking forward to taking control of your kingdom were not the same thing.

as had become common for you, you chose not to respond, instead scooting yourself along the bed until you had your head on a pillow, pulling the blankets over yourself. you felt the bed shift as he did the same, reaching out to shut off any lights in the room before crawling under the same blankets as you. 

as badly as he wanted to pull you close to his chest and hold you while he fell asleep like he had hours before, he knew he couldn’t. everything in the way you were responding to him now told him that you would just push him away, maybe even change your mind about sleeping in the same bed as him and make him move to the floor. or worse, move there yourself.

no, minho didn’t want you to sleep on the floor and he didn’t want to upset you further than he knew he already had, so he stayed to himself. with your back to him, he listened to the even sounds of your breathing as you fell asleep. that would have to be enough for him for now.

the next morning was a repeat of the night before, minus minhos thoughts that you could be finally accepting him, maybe even growing feelings that didn’t involve resentment and anger.

after sending his parents off with a promise of them returning soon, just like the night before, you spent the day rearranging the room with him. you refused any help from your parents or anyone else, partially because you didn’t want anyone to touch your things again and partially because you couldn’t stand to be around them at the moment.

unlike before, though, your comfort and coziness to minho had worn off. you were no longer showing him any form of physical affection. 

you still kept the room fair, although it didn’t feel like it was half you and half him. it felt like its own place. it wasn’t partially him, the other half you- it was 100% the two of you, together.

you actually quite liked the way the room turned out. you weren’t being as snappy to him as you originally had been, but the atmosphere wasn’t anything close to before, when you’d looked to him for comfort from the pain rather than looking at him like he was the source of it all.

minho hated seeing you cry. when he noticed your state the night before and pulled you into his chest, he could have sworn his heart broke, like it would have fallen right out of his chest if you hadn’t been there holding it in. that reason exactly is why he felt so bad now.

he didn’t want you to cry, he didn’t want you to be sad, but he almost wished you would again, if it meant you would let your walls down for him again. anything to put you back in his arms.

you were walking back to your bedroom after dinner and tending to your garden, exhausted from life and redecorating your room. you were growing used to spending nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment with minho, even beginning to enjoy his company, but that didn’t mean small moments alone weren’t appreciated.

you knew it would only be a few minutes, but walking alone to your shared bedroom while minho was speaking to your parents felt like heaven. 

you didn’t remain alone for long, but it didn’t bother you. not when the person breaking the isolation was your best friend.

you jogged down the hallway and to your bedroom door where chan was standing, waiting for you. you hadn’t seen him since minho had arrived days prior.

you threw your arms around him the moment you reached him, happy to finally see him again. it hadn’t been that long, but considering he was usually with you constantly, a few days felt like forever. he pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss to your forehead as you smiled up at him.

you were about to ask him why he hadn’t been around when someone interrupted you.

“i thought you didn’t have brothers.” minho’s voice.

“i don’t.” you payed no attention to chan’s arm around your waist.

he nodded, “then this is?”

chan stepped away from you and reached his hand out to minho, “ah, i’m sorry! i’m chan, head of y/n’s personal guard.”

minho nodded again, taking chan’s hand and gripping it firmly.

“minho. y/n’s fiancé.”

releasing minhos hand and stepping back to you, chan laughed, “i know that, you’re all anyone is talking about recently.”

minho raised an eyebrow, locking his eyes to yours.

“am i?”

“of course!” chan babbled, “everyone’s excited for the wedding.”

minho scoffed, eyes still glued to yours.

“not everyone.” 

he didn’t bother to excuse himself before he shoved past you and chan, an action that could have easily been avoided with all the space the hallway held, and into your bedroom. 

a confused expression plastered on your face as you turned to chan.

“i know i complain a lot, but he’s usually not that bad. not even near it.”

chan frowned, lowering his voice. minho was right inside the door, after all.

“did you get into a fight or something?”

you shook your head, why did it actually bother you that he seemed upset with you?

“maybe you should go talk to him?”

you debated it in your mind. you probably should go check out what was bothering him, he was fine not even twenty minutes ago at dinner, but you also wanted to stay and talk to chan. you wanted to catch up, to vent.

as if reading your mind, chan turned you to face him.

“hey, go. we’ll see each other plenty now. your mom wanted us to give you space for a while, but the guard is back on full duty.”

you nodded, eyes trained on your bedroom door. you walked away from chan practically the moment he gave you the good to go, stepping into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. 

it didn’t take you long to find minho. he was sat in his desk chair, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. he didn’t look up until you addressed him.

your voice was soft, “minho?”

if he hadn’t been so frustrated, he would have celebrated at your caring tone.

instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“what?”

your frown grew, “what happened? are you okay?”

“yeah,” he stood from his seat, mumbling as he crossed the room to the closet, where he pulled out his sleeping clothes and began to unbutton his day shirt, “i’m fine.”

maybe he expected you to leave it at that. it seemed that’s what he wanted, considering his choice to suddenly switch to his night clothes. whenever he started to undress, you hurried out of the room. this time, though, you were worried about him. actually worried about him.

so you stayed put.

“minho, i can tell that’s not true. you’re upset.”

he scoffed. as if your words had broken some dam inside of him, he let his frustrations free. his hands flew into the air, completely abandoning his shirt, which he had barely begun to unbutton.

“pardon me for not cheering when i see another man kissing my fiancé!”

“you- chan? you’re upset because i was speaking to my best friend.”

you said it more as a statement than a question.

“no,” he took a couple steps towards you, abandoning his sleep it’s clothes over the foot of the bed, “i’m upset because he kissed you.”

“on the forehead.”

“you wouldn’t let me do that though, would you?”

he was right in front of you now. you stuttered before replying, and it clicked in your mind: he was jealous. your demeanor softened.

“you’re mad that i let him kiss me and not you?”

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, a small pout on his lips.

the sight triggered something inside of you. he looked so real, so sad. he looked, for a lack of better words, genuinely hurt. it put the notion in your head that maybe he did care more about marrying you than just taking control of your kingdom.

you sighed, walking past him and to the closet, grabbing your change of clothes before stepping off into the bathroom to change. you heard him let out a soft sigh as you shut the door behind you, he must have assumed you dropped the topic. you didn’t know if he was glad that a fight hadn’t escalated or if he was upset that the conversation didn’t get to the point where he could kiss you and blame it on a flurry of emotions and jealousy.

you got into your sleeping clothes and, trusting that he had changed as well, you stepped back into the bedroom without asking if it was okay. you went straight for the bed, wordlessly finding a comfortable position as he slid in beside you. he reached out to shut off the lights and lay flat on his back, taking deep breaths and trying to get himself to calm down enough to sleep when he felt a weight on his waist followed by a warm presence pressing up against his side. he made a small sound of surprise as he looked down.

there you were, arm draped over his torso, cuddled into his side. your eyes were shut and your head rested against his chest.

any frustration he’d felt towards you far gone, he took the chance to wrap his arms around you, securing you to his body as if you were going to run away at any moment. he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. it was so light you wondered if he’d meant for you to feel it at all.

you shifted slightly, keeping your arm around his waist as you offered a small smile against his chest.

“there. even.”

things got easier from then on, although you wouldn’t admit it. you’d dropped your attempts  at hating your new fiancé, how were you supposed to dislike him? you hadn’t dropped your hard feelings towards the situation and you definitely hadn’t agreed or started complying to the wedding, but you could bring it upon yourself to keep trying to be cold to minho. not even when the day was filled with wedding planning and dress fitting.

you’d woken up still in minho’s arms, even more so than you’d been when you had fallen asleep. your back was flat against his chest and one of his legs was sprawled over yours, practically trapping you as his arms held you around the waist. 

maybe you should have been surprised to wake up that close to him or tried to pry his hands off of you, but you didn’t, and you didn’t want to. you hated yourself for it, but you were beginning to really consider the idea that he was your best bet. maybe complying and marrying him would be safer and more pleasant than anyone else your parents might throw your direction in the future if this wedding got called off. 

minho shifted beside you, groaning at the light and removing an arm from your body to rub his eyes. the instant he did it, he dropped his arm back around you and held you close, as if he’d made a mistake by letting you go in the first place.

you laughed, and that’s always a good way to start a day.

it amazed minho how much your attitude towards him could change overnight. granted, you weren’t holding his hand and offering him kisses everywhere you went, but you had started actually initiating conversations with him. you joked with him and allowed yourself to laugh at his jokes, you didn’t even ignore him that much anymore. you weren’t treating him like your soon to be husband yet, but still. you treating him like a friend was better than you treating him like an enemy, even if it’s not what he really wanted.

“oh my god.” you groaned, “if i have to look at one more fucking shade of purple that looks exactly like the last and say which looks better i will absolutely lose my shit.”

he laughed, “you’re the one who said i would look hot in purple.”

you sent a glare his way, but it wasn’t like the ones you used to show him. it was joking, friendly.

“i did not say you’d look hot.”

“i think you did.”

“i can promise you i didn’t.”

“no, i’m pretty sure i remember you saying it. i think your exact words were, ‘oh, how lucky am i to have this treasure of a man as my future husband, i think purple-‘“

he was cut off by a call from the doorway of the room the two of you had been in practically all day, helping choose colors and getting fit for your wedding apparel. 

“y/n, prince minho, dinner’s done.”

you knew immediately by the choice of laid back words that it was chan. no one else, not even your other friends, spoke to you like that outside of private.

you turned to the door, “one of these days i’m going to have you tarred and feathered for disrespecting me, bang chan.”

he laughed, “i’m sure you are.”

you met him at the door before minho even had the chance to stand, shoving him lightly.

“i am! watch, i’ll bring it up at dinner.”

he laughed, walking beside you as the three of you made your way to the dining room.

“isn’t it impolite to discuss executions during meal time?”

minho walked silently beside you, it was like you’d completely forgotten his existence once chan showed up.

“i might just break etiquette to speed up your punishment.”

another small laugh from him and then you were walking through the doors and into the dining room. you and minho took your seats at the table and chan took his standing along the wall with the rest of the guard and staff.

you turned to minho, “do you think we’re done for the day, then? or do we have more purple to look forward too?”

he shrugged your attempt at a joke off, trying not to show how bothered he was. so that’s how it was going to be? the second chan leaves, then he’s interesting enough to talk to again?

“maybe they’ll finally start making decorations and the suit and dress.”

either you hadn’t noticed his attitude change or didn’t care enough to react.

“i wonder how quickly they’ll pull things together.”

you really didn’t know. they could rush and work their butts off and you could be getting married within the next week, or they could take as much time as needed for preparations. you didn’t know. and if your parents had any clue, they didn’t bring it up.

their chosen dinner conversations were the same as they had been for the past many nights. talk about the wedding, who was going to be invited. was it bad manners to invite the brides minho had rejected? or was it polite? a good portion of the time not eating was spent with your mother trying to convince you to care more about the wedding. she was wholeheartedly convinced that you’d changed your mind and fallen in love with minho because you were being friendly now. she expected you to care more about the planning now that you didn’t seem so against it.

hurrying away from the dining room as soon as possible by claiming you’d had enough wedding talk for the day, which wasn’t a lie, you and minho made your way back to your bedroom. his earlier frustrations were forgotten as the two of you sat on the bed and talked about various books across the bookshelf. 

as it turned out, some of the books ended up having to be put in storage. not for a lack of room, but simply because two copies were not needed. you shared a lot of the same interests.

“i told you,” he said, only half joking, “we’re meant for each other.”

you shoved him, pulling the book from his hands. before you could reply, he was speaking again.

“be careful! that’s my copy!”

you laughed, clutching the book to your chest and turning away as he reached for it.

“not anymore! it’s ours.”

“it is not. that is very much so mine.”

“no,” you insisted, moving again to keep him from grabbing it, “nothing in this room is yours. it’s all ours. or mine.”

he laughed, stopping his useless attempts at grabbing the book. 

“yours?”

you nodded, “my stuff is still mine. but yours is ours now.”

with that, he jumped on you, tackling you onto your back. you dropped the book somewhere during the attack and it made a loud noise as it fell to the floor.

“what about you?” he asked, easily keeping you from struggling, “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

you stopped struggling, showing him the game was over.

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

you easily shoved him off of you in his stunned state. he hadn’t meant to offend you.

“y/n, that’s not what i meant.”

you cut him off as you shut the bathroom door behind you, night clothes in hand. you took significantly longer to change than you needed, both you and him knew that. he would have had time to crawl into bed and fall asleep three times over as he as waiting for you, but he didn’t. truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of falling asleep without you beside him anymore. he might have to test that theory, he didn’t know if you would let him hold you that night after he unintentionally upset you.

just as things were beginning to work, he messed it up. he really hadn’t meant to imply he owned you in any way, he was only trying to be cute, maybe get you to say yourself that you were going to marry him, maybe even that you wanted to.

he didn’t know the exact rules of falling in love, but if he could say anything for certain it would be that he was in love with you. maybe it was when he saw your name on that paper and his fantasy became a possible reality that he really fell, or maybe it was when he saw you face to face for the first time after learning you’d be the one he’d marry, he really didn’t know. he had no clue when it changed from some childish crush into fill blown love, but it did.

was it even possible to be in love with someone you’d only met a handful of times and were only paired to marry a few weeks prior? it must have been. otherwise, how would he explain the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you?

when you finally came out of the bathroom, you silently put your clothes in the basket and crawled into bed. like always, minho switched off the lights and secured the covers over himself, shifting until he found a comfortable position. he was debating in his mind if he should reach out and try to hold you or if that would just make everything worse when you scooted so your back was to his chest, not outright cuddling him but giving the invitation.

he obliged immediately, wrapping his arm around you while the other went to play with your hair. he placed another one of his gentle, barely-there kisses to the side of your head as he muttered a soft, “i’m sorry.”

he didn’t know whether you replied or not, he fell asleep as the last syllable fell from his lips.

you didn’t go as easily. if your internal clock was at all accurate, you’d been laying there for  at least two hours, wide awake. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was keeping you up, probably the wedding, maybe the small fight with minho. either way, you could think of a better way to spend the time as long as you weren’t going to fall asleep.

carefully, you pulled minho’s arms off of you and slowly crawled out of bed, trying your hardest not to wake him up. you stood at the side of the bed for a moment, watching minho to make sure you hadn’t disturbed him, before creeping over to the door. you opened it as quietly as possible and peaked out. neither of the guards stationed outside your room were chan.

felix was on duty though, and he sent you a confused look as you stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you. 

“where are you going? if you need something i’ll get it for you.”

you shook your head, “just can’t sleep. is chan in the bunks?”

felix nodded and you started off down the hallway towards the rooms the guards slept in when they didn’t have night duty. 

“hey, wait,” felix called after you, moving slightly as if he were going to follow, “i’m not technically supposed to let you go alone.”

you frowned at him, “it’s literally two minutes away and i’m headed to a room full of guards. i’ll be fine.”

he thought for a moment before moving back to stand in his original position, “fine. but if some hallway demon kills you on the way there that’s on you.”

you chuckled at his joke and made your way through the halls and to the wing that houses all of the staff that lived there. you weren’t technically supposed to go there at night, you weren’t really supposed to even leave your room at night, but none of the guards in the halls tried to stop you on your journey. it wasn’t uncommon for you to visit chan at night, especially not when you were younger. the both of you used to have trouble sleeping and it was much easier for you to sneak out and into his room than the other way around.

you gently opened the door and stepped into the room, heading right for chans bed. there were a dozen other sleeping guards, not all of them from your personal guard, also asleep on their own beds. you tapped chan awake, stifling your laugh when he flinched awake.

you used to wake him at least half of the nights he didn’t have duty, yet he still flinched every time you woke him up.

he looked confused to see you there but he didn’t hesitate to stand and follow you into the hallway.

when there, you went down away from the doors so you could talk freely without disturbing anyone and slid down the wall. chan did the same, seating himself right next to you.

“what’s up? you haven’t woken me up in the middle of the night for a while.”

you laughed, “yeah, i don’t know. i couldn’t sleep. plus, i’ve missed you. even with the guard back, i haven’t been able to spend time with you recently.”

he nodded, leaning to rest his head on your shoulder, “i know. i’ve missed you too.”

there was a brief pause before he spoke again.

“what’s on your mind?”

you scoffed lightly, “i don’t think there’s room for anything other than thoughts about the wedding right now. i can’t even breathe without someone mentioning it.”

chan chuckled, “it is kind of a big deal.”

you ignored him, “i don’t want to marry minho, chan.”

he took a deep breath, “why?”

“why?”

“why? tell me exactly what’s so bad about him.”

you didn’t hesitate before answering, “i’m being forced into it! i didn’t even get a choice, chan!”

he ignored your words, “no, what’s bad about him? not the situation, not the wedding, minho.”

you thought for a moment, wracked your brain for answers, but you couldn’t think of one genuine issue you had against him specifically.  you’d actually began to enjoy being around him.

chan waited for a while before he decided you weren’t going to answer.

“it seems to me like you two click really well.”

you shrugged.

“i think you should give him a chance, y/n.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“i mean i think you’re upset because you don’t want to get married, not because you don’t want to get married to him. and i think he might be changing your mind whether you know it or not.”

your frown didn’t lift.

“have you ever thought that maybe it’s fate that he ended up being your only option?”

not only did your frown once again not lift, it got deeper.

“i’m telling you y/n, a best friend knows. no matter how much you say you hate him, you’re falling for that boy.”

you cut in without hesitation, “no, i am not.”

his eyes widened and a grin spread across his face, “you are! no one is that defensive when they’re not lying.”

you hit him lightly and he continued, “for real, y/n. i think you like him more than you realize. just play nice for a while.”

“i am playing nice.”

“no,” he said, “you’re acting nice. actually let your guard down around him. let him in. let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

you grumbled. if anyone was going to be able to talk you into this marriage, it would be chan.

“okay.”

he followed your actions as you stood up.

“do you want me to walk you back?”

you shook your head, “i’ll be fine. go back to bed.”

he chuckled at your grumpy attitude, pulling you into a tight hug before letting you go. he watched until you turned a corner and he could no longer see you before stepping back into his room.

felix greeted you at your bedroom door.

“no hallway demons?”

“no hallway demons.”

“you’re lucky.”

you laughed at the boy and sent him a weird look to which he smiled in return. just as you had earlier, you carefully retraced your steps until you were back in bed with minho. taking chan’s request for you to try to warm up more to the idea of marrying minho, you secured yourself next to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. although, you probably would have done that even if minho’s name hadn’t even come up in your and chan’s conversation. you were finding that being in minho’s arms while you slept felt good. the thought that being held by anyone while sleeping would be comforting, it wasn’t just minho, crossed your mind before chan’s words echoed in your head.

“let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

maybe it was that it was minhos arms that made it so gentle and caring. if you thought about it, you couldn’t make a list longer than what you could count on one hand of who you would let sleep in the same bed as you, let alone cuddle you while sleeping. you’d only ever fallen asleep in minho of chans arms. and your parents, of course.

maybe you did feel deeper for the boy than you let yourself realize. maybe, despite every word coming out of your mouth insisting that you didn’t, you wanted to marry him.

several days went by, several wedding preparations were made. it turned out that they’d decided to go the rushed route, planning to hold the wedding ceremony as soon as possible. it was only two day’s out now. even though you still hadn’t even officially stated your acceptance of the wedding, preparations were in full force.

as you studied your reflection and took in the details of the gown you’d be wearing as you walked down the isle, you wondered how hard the seamstress’ must have worked to produce such a gorgeous piece of art in only a few days.

it was the traditional white color and it wasn’t anything overly fancy, you’d made it clear you wouldn’t wear it if it was. despite how quickly it had been made, it was clear it wasn’t rushed. every stitch looked perfect.

there were small embroidered designs along the fabric, popping out against the white of the base. the designs were a beautiful lilac purple, and although you knew that you and minho had chosen the exact shade, you wouldn’t have been able to decipher the shade from any of the other light purples that the seamstresses had in stock.

you assumed that minho had the same purple accenting his suit, but you had no clue what it looked like. your mothers were very adamant about neither of you seeing each other in the wedding apparel before the big event.

you bet he looked amazing.

you continued to admire yourself and the dress as several people checked the fitting, making sure the sizing was perfect and didn’t need any more alterations. when they decided it was, you found yourself not wanting to take the dress off quite yet. you couldn’t help but be excited for the next time you’d get to wear it.

minho was waiting for you when you stepped out of the room and into the hallway. apparently his fitting had taken less time than yours. suits did tend to be easier to size.

you let him take your hand as the two of you made your way to your bedroom. you’d taken chan’s advice and stopped shoving down emotions, and it made you realize how much you genuinely enjoyed minho. as much as you hated the way things worked and the way you got put together, you were beginning to think that maybe it had some sense to it. chan might have been right when he said that minho being your only choice was fate.

you dropped his hand to pick up the watering jug and fill it. he insisted on carrying it to your garden. you made no attempt to take it back when he held it out for you.

“no,” you laughed, “i showed you how to tell if they need watered yesterday. you do it.”

his eyes widened, “y/n, i seriously don’t think you want me to do that, i’ll kill them.”

“you will not,” you giggled, “but fine. i’ll help you.”

you approached the first plant along with him. it was a large basil plant. you didn’t use it for cooking or baking, the garden had plenty of basil that was used to harvest, but this one was just for show.

“check the soil.”

he did as you instructed, pressing his fingers into the dirt to check for moisture.

“i think it’s okay?”

his words came out as more of a question than a statement.

you reached forward and double checked, smiling and clapping your hands together when you realized he’d gotten it correct.

he did the same for the next plant, a lavender bush, claiming more confidently now that it didn’t need watered yet either. you checked, letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“i can’t believe you’re trying to kill my lavender plant. how could you?”

he sputtered, “i’m not! i really thought that it was fine!”

you huffed, taking the water from his hand and watering the plant.

“i can never trust you again.”

you started to check the other plants, watering a few of them. he complained and promised he’d learn better, but you continued to ignore him.

“my own fiancé... trying to kill my babies.”

you only stopped teasing him when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you tight and promising into your shoulder that he didn’t want to hurt your plants.

you turned to face him, his hands still resting on your hips.

“okay, i’ll give you one more chance.”

you gestured towards the last few plants you had yet to check, a couple flowers that minho couldn’t what you said were named.

he walked up to them, taking his time to check them before turning to you.

“the yellow ones are okay, the purple and blue ones need watered.”

you eyes him suspiciously as you went to check his claim, breaking out in a smile when you found that he was correct.

“technically, the yellow ones could use a little water, but i’ll say you passed.”

he laughed and watched you water the last plants before reaching out your free hand and taking hold of his. you set the watering can by the door and made your way back to your bedroom where minho dropped your hand and headed to his desk.

he’d grown confident enough in your comfort towards him that he wasn’t afraid to do things like that anymore, drop your hand or break away from a hug. he knew you’d let him hold you again. it wasn’t like less than a week earlier where he felt like you might run away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

he leaned down and shuffled through some papers on his desk. you recognized them as archery point sheets. he hadn’t been lying when he said he was good, he scored nines and tens easily from distances you wouldn’t have even been able to get close to hitting the target at, even after letting him give you some tips on aiming.

you snickered as you pulled out one specific scoring sheet that caught your eye. it was an insanely long distance round, the longest he’d ever tried yet, and he’d managed to score two nines and an eight.

you laughed as you help the paper up, “an eight? you suck.”

he tried to glare at you, but a smile poked through. you saw him made a move and dropped the paper, darting to get away from him.

he caught you quite easily, tackling you onto the bed. he held you loosely as he straddled you.

“take it back. say i’m the best archer you’ve ever seen.”

you shook your head, smile plastered on your lips.

“take it back!” he whined.

you shook your head again, trying not to laugh.

“whatever.” he released you from his grip, crawling off of you, “this is why i tried to kill your plants.”

you gasped, “i knew it!”

he laughed as he reached for his pajamas, stepping into the bathroom and pulling the door lightly shut. it didn’t close all the way, there was still a small crack. he wasn’t as shy as you were, you’d learned that all too well. you were surprised he even went into the bathroom at all.

he waited until he heard you drop your day clothes into the bin before coming back into the bedroom. he put his dirty clothes next to yours and crawled into bed beside you, following his same routine of shutting off the lights before pulling you into his arms.

as he always did with you there beside him, he fell asleep easily.

you had fallen into a deep sleep as well before something woke you up a couple hours later. you couldn’t say what it was that had woken you, maybe it was nothing at all. regardless, you sat there for a few minutes before realizing you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. you looked at the boy beside you.

you considered waking him up to keep you company until you could fall asleep again, but decided against it. he looked too peaceful. chan, however, you had no issue waking from a peaceful sleep.

sitting a few yards from any doors leading to people sleeping, you spoke to your best friend.

“am i going crazy, channie?”

he hummed, “probably, but why?”

you sent a light glare towards him before answering, “being kind of excited for the wedding.”

he broke out into a huge grin, “i so called it.”

you frowned in confusion and he continued.

“i said you were in love with him and you so are.”

you shook your head, “i’m not... in love with him,” 

why did the words seem foreign? 

“i just think i might, i don’t know, actually see us working out, and not just as a royal couple, together to rule. like as a genuine pair.”

he made a sound of understanding, “you’re totally in love with him.”

you didn’t deny it a second time.

you frowned as you approached your bedroom door. there was a faint light peaking out from under the crack in the door. you inched it open to find minho awake, sat up on the bed reading with a single lamp on. he looked up when he heard you enter.

“hey,” you greeted him, “why are you awake?”

he shrugged, “guess i got cold without you next to me.”

you got back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over your legs and leaning over to see what he was reading.

“what are you reading?”

he shut the book momentarily, marking his page with his finger and showing you the cover before flipping it back open and resuming where he left off.

you frowned. it wasn’t like him to ignore you like this.

“is something wrong? did you have a nightmare?”

he shut his book, tossing it to the ground beside his side of the bed. he pressed his lips together.

“yeah, i keep having these dreams that my fiancé is leaving in the middle of the night to secretly meet up with some guy. it’s weird.”

you raised your eyebrows, “who told you that?”

he shrugged, “asked the guard outside the door one night after you left what you were doing, he said you were visiting chan.”

you nodded, “yeah, i do that sometimes, is that an issue?”

he scoffed, “no, i just brought it up for fun.”

you pursed your lips, “really, minho? why does it bother you so much?”

there was no hesitation in his next words, almost as if he’d been itching to say them for a while now.

“is there something going on between you two?”

you scoffed, “seriously? you really think that?”

by now he had stood from the bed, “it doesn’t seem so crazy.”

you stood as well, challenging him as you stepped around the bed and in front of him.

“yeah, it does. it sounds insane.”

he looked you straight in the eyes, “does it? because it makes perfect sense to me. you won’t let me kiss you, you won’t sign the marriage contact even though you know you’re stuck with me, you’re so comfortable around him and you keep leaving in the middle of the night to meet with him in secret. it literally screams affair, y/n!”

“you seriously believe that i would cheat on you?”

“i don’t even think you see it as cheating since you don’t take a single fucking part of our relationship seriously.”

he took a step forward and you instinctively stepped back.

“i do take it seriously.”

he continued to close in on you until your back was pressed to the wall.

“then act like it.”

without thinking, you did just that. you acted.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, crashing his lips to yours. it wasn’t what you’d expected your first kiss to be like, you’d actually imagined it would be at the altar, but you weren’t complaining.

he reacted immediately, hands finding their way across your body. he slid one down your leg, stopping at your thigh and tapping it. you got the message, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. your back collided with the wall and the paintings hung there shook a little, but  you couldn’t be bothered to care. not when he tasted as good as he did.

one hand secure on your thigh to hold you up, the other found its way under your night gown and up your bare leg to the bare skin of your torso. he broke away for a moment as his fingers inched higher up.

“is this okay?”

you barely had time to mumbled a yes before your lips were back on his. you hadn’t realized you wanted to kiss him so bad until you finally did.

he let you breathe for a second as he peppered kisses along your neck, his hand exploring your body under your gown. his fingers found their way to your breasts and he squeezed one, causing a soft moan to fall from your lips.

he cursed at the sound, attaching his lips back to yours and turning to walk you to the bed. he easily sat you down, back to the mattress, and hiked up your night dress. you let out another soft moan when his hands finally made their way to your core. he ran his fingers over your clothed folds.

“you swear this is only mine?”

you nodded, “yes.”

“you promise?” he spoke between kisses, “tell me you promise.”

“i promise.”

that seemed to be enough for him as he growled against your lips, slipping his hand down the waistband of your panties.

you struggled to keep quiet as he finally made direct contact to your dripping core.

he cooed, “what, baby? no need to be quiet. who’s gonna hear? the guards?” you could feel his breath against your neck, “is chan on duty? is he right outside the door? let him hear you.”

you could only whine in response as he toyed with your clit.

you made a sound of annoyance when he pulled his hand from your panties, but your disappointment didn’t last for long. he pulled you to sit up so he could remove your night clothes, tossing them god knows where on the ground. he let out a deep groan as his eyes came on contact with your bare chest.

he brought his hands up to cup them, one in each hand.

“you’re gorgeous.”

he let one of his hands fall back to caressing the rest of your body and replaced it with his lips, taking your nipple into his mouth. despite his earlier demands not to try to silence yourself, a hand flew to your mouth as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan for how little stimulation you were getting.

he popped off your breast and licked a long stripe down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your underwear. he glanced up at you to make sure you were still on board before looking his fingers on them and pulling them down your legs. immediately, you tried to close your legs in embarrassment, but he easily held them open. 

he placed sloppy kisses to your neck as his fingers teased your entrance.

“has he ever seen you like this?”

“no.”

“you really expect me to believe that?”

“it’s true.” your words came out strangled as he slowly began to slide a finger into your heat. it was unusual and uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it, nearly screaming when he curled his finger and a line of pleasure shot through you.

he hummed, “i can tell you’re not lying, baby. no one is this sensitive if they’ve been fucking their royal guardsman behind their fiancé’s back.”

you whined as he added another finger, “haven’t- haven’t done this before.”

he hushed you, “i know, angel. you’re doing so well, just relax.”

you gripped tightly onto his shirt as he continued to work his fingers inside of you. with a particularly rough curl of his fingers, you felt something inside of you let go and a wave of pleasure flowed over your body. you let out the most heavenly sounds as minho worked your through your orgasm and he felt a swell of pride knowing that he was the only one who had ever made you feel so good. he was the only one who would ever make you feel this way.

he rode you through your orgasm before placing a gentle kiss to your lips. you tugged are the bottom of his shirt.

“are you sure, baby?”

you nodded, far too worked up to let out coherent words. he complied, slipping his shirt over his shoulders and ridding himself of his pants. you stared at his chest, reaching out to touch his skin before you even realized you were doing it. you slid your hand down his body until you came in contact with his hard length. he hissed as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking him. you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his cock as you basked in the sounds he made. the sounds you made him make.

he reached down and grabbed your wrist, “baby, i won’t last much longer if you keep this up.”

you nodded, reluctantly letting him guide your hand away from his length. you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your fingers in his hair as you felt him like himself up with your entrance.

the noise you let out when he began to sink into you could only be described as divine. minho had to stop for a moment and recollect himself, he really wouldn’t last long if you sounded like that at every move he made.

after a few moments, he was fully buried inside of you. he waited for you to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out, only to roughly slam back into you.

he had every intention of going slow and being gentle for your first time, but everything, from the way your pussy felt wrapped around him to the way you moaned out his name was too much for him.

despite his previous remark for you to let yourself be loud, he guided your face to his shoulder when he became genuinely concerned you may wake the entire castle.

“bite down.”

you did as he said, sinking your teeth into the flesh of the junction between his shoulder and neck. he let out a sound that made you think for a moment that you’d bitten too hard, but when you released your grip he groaned out, asking you to do it again.

he brought his hand between your bodies and began running slow circles onto your clit as his cock worked magic inside of you.

“im close. gonna fill you up, is that okay?”

you barely managed to get out a yes through the pleasure you were feeling. 

“fuck, gonna let me fuck my babies into you, huh?”

he adjusted your legs and the new angle plus his fingers working expertly on your clit threw you over the edge. 

“you’re going to be a great mother one day.”

you bit down hard on his shoulder as you came, only releasing the grip to tell him how good he was making you feel.

he came soon after, muttering praises and gushing about how good you did. he groaned as he gave a last few thrusts, watching as his and your cum leaked out with every thrust of his hips. the sight nearly made him hard again.

he pulled out, grabbing his discarded night shirt and wiping his length off before tossing it to the side again. he leaned back over you, connecting his lips to yours to swallow the whine you let out when his fingers connected back to your core.

he collected the cum that had dripped out and spread itself along your thighs and onto the sheets, pushing it back into you with his fingers.

he hushed you as you whined from overstimulation, “i know baby, i know, but we don’t wanna waste any, do we?”

you shook your head.

“no, we don’t. that’s my good girl.”

he connected his lips back to yours, “you’ll look gorgeous with my baby in your belly.”

you were honestly too fucked out to process anything that was happening, just laying there and letting him do what he wanted. despite the discomfort the overstimulation brought, you couldn’t help but complain when he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them on his night shirt and slipping your panties back onto you.

needless to say, you slept easily after that.

you were beyond sore the next morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. the achy legs and raw throat were worth it.

you hurried to get dressed and shower off the sweat and other substances on your body the next morning before hurrying down for breakfast. minho had showered with you, insisting that since he made the mess, he should clean it up.

although your parents had already been confident that you’d changed your mind about the wedding, if anyone had doubts, including yourself, they were long gone.

a drastic change from even just the day before, you and minho stole kisses nearly any time you could. leaning over to grab the salt? kiss. walking past him to grab a book? kiss. sitting down waiting for more orders on how to help prepare for the wedding that was only a day away? kiss, kiss, kiss.

you’d been so caught up in your newfound love for kissing your fiancé that you didn’t even notice as chan snuck up to talk to you.

instinctively, minho’s arm tightened around your waist. he believed you when you promised him that you and chan were just friends, but he was still protective.

“so... hyunjin tells me i was right.”

you frowned in confusion, “what?”

“hyunjin said i was right. he had guard duty outside of your room last night and he told me you really warmed up to minho overnight.”

you nearly choked on your own spit at the realization that not only had your guards, your friends, heard last nights events, by the sound of it, they’d told everyone else.

minho didn’t even try to his hide proud smile has you blushed, covering your face in his chest.

chan turned to minho, “i knew she’d fall for you eventually. she used to gush about how cute you were when we were kids.”

you opened your mouth to protest, “that is not true.”

it really wasn’t. maybe you’d mentioned that he was easier to be around than many of the other royal, stuck up kids, but you had never said anything close to what chan claimed.

chan turned to minho, nodding his head as he scratched his nose, “it’s totally true.”

“it’s literally just not.”

he made a sound of disagreement.

“that is a big fat lie and you know it!”

you reached out to hit him and he dodged it, making a scene out of saying felix called him before hurrying away. you turned to minho.

“it’s not true.”

he shrugged, “it’s probably true.”

“it’s not!”

when you walked down the isle, minho could have swore his heart stopped. you looked gorgeous. the dress framed you perfectly and the delicate flower crown placed on your head looked just on you. he made a mental note to compliment whoever had planned your full outfit.

the closer you got, the more minho worried that your vows would be droned out by the sound of his heart beating against his rib cage.

you finally stepped in front of him, letting him get a clear view of you in your dress for the first time. you weren’t much better, speechless as you took in how handsome he looked. your felt your eyes began to well up at the realization of what was happening. who would have known you’d be crying from happiness, not disappointment or fear?

your eyes met minho’s own glassy ones and you let out a small laugh, speaking so only he could hear.

“i was right when i said you’d look hot in purple.”