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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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our three year plan pt. 3 | wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 6.5k~ Warnings/note: hi. i need someone to beta read this fic. hELP, dm me if interested!

summary: you think your life is ruined when your parents announced that you’re marrying the heir of a tech chaebol; jeon wonwoo. so you offered him a plan, pretend to be in love until you can fake a catastrophe to break the engagement.

jeon wonwoo thinks his life just got better when his parents announced that he’s marrying the heiress of the medical group. his long time crush and basically the woman of his dreams. so when you offered him your plan, he’s going to use it to make you fall in love with him

masterlist

Y/N adjusted the necklace Wonwoo had given her that morning—a delicate platinum pendant that matched her engagement ring—as flashbulbs popped around them. The Jeon Industries annual charity gala was their first major public appearance as an engaged couple, and it felt like all of Seoul's elite had their eyes trained on them.

"Smile," Wonwoo whispered, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back as they posed for what felt like the hundredth photograph. "You look like you're contemplating murder."

Despite her nerves, Y/N found herself laughing at his unexpected humor. "Maybe I am. Starting with whoever designed these heels."

Wonwoo's eyes crinkled behind his glasses. "Three more minutes of photos, then I'll rescue you with an urgent call from a fictional business associate."

"You've done this before," she observed, genuinely impressed by his social navigation skills.

"Corporate heir survival tactics," he replied with a wink that made several nearby socialites sigh dreamily. "Lesson one: always have an escape plan."

As promised, Wonwoo's phone rang exactly three minutes later, and he smoothly excused them from the photo line. Y/N exhaled with relief as he guided her toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I didn't realize fake-fiancée duties would include quite so much smiling."

"You did beautifully," he said, handing her a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "My mother is already texting to say everyone is enchanted by you."

Y/N nearly choked on her drink. "Somehow I doubt that."

"It's true," Wonwoo insisted. "Though she did add that your dress could have been 'more befitting of the Jeon name.'"

Y/N glanced down at her elegant but understated navy gown. "What does that even mean?"

"It means you didn't spend enough to buy a small car," Wonwoo explained with a slight eye roll. "Don't worry about it. I think you look perfect."

The compliment felt sincere, and not for the first time, Y/N found herself confused by Wonwoo's seemingly effortless ability to play the adoring fiancé. Over the past three weeks since they'd begun their charade, he had been unfailingly considerate, attentive, and convincing—sometimes so convincing that Y/N had to remind herself this was all an act.

A passing couple stopped to congratulate them, and Wonwoo's arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. Y/N automatically leaned into him, their bodies fitting together with a comfort that belied their arrangement.

"You're getting better at this," he murmured once they were alone again.

"At what?"

"Not flinching when I touch you," he said matter-of-factly, though something flickered in his eyes. "The first week, you tensed every time."

Y/N hadn't realized he'd noticed. "Practice makes perfect, I suppose."

"Indeed it does." Wonwoo's gaze drifted over her shoulder, his expression shifting slightly. "Your parents have arrived. Shall we go greet them?"

Y/N suppressed a sigh. "Might as well get it over with."

As they navigated through the crowd, Wonwoo kept his hand loosely entwined with hers, his thumb occasionally brushing over her knuckles in a gesture that felt oddly reassuring. Y/N found herself grateful for the contact, an anchor in the sea of social obligations she'd never enjoyed.

Her parents were deep in conversation with an elderly couple when they approached. Her father broke into a rare smile at their arrival, a public display of warmth that rarely extended to private settings.

"Ah, here they are—the happy couple!" Dr. Lee exclaimed with practiced joviality. "Chairman Park, you remember my daughter Y/N? And of course, her fiancé, Jeon Wonwoo."

Introductions were made, compliments exchanged, and Y/N slipped seamlessly into her role as the dutiful daughter and bride-to-be. She'd had a lifetime of practice at these corporate functions, though previously she'd been permitted to stand quietly in her parents' shadow. Now, as half of the merger—she couldn't help thinking of it that way—she was expected to engage, charm, and represent both families.

To her surprise, Wonwoo subtly guided the conversation whenever she faltered, filling silences and deflecting potentially awkward questions about wedding dates and future plans. By the time they extracted themselves, Y/N was genuinely impressed by his social dexterity.

"You're good at this," she commented as they made their way toward their assigned table.

"Years of practice," Wonwoo replied with a self-deprecating smile. "Corporate functions have been my second home since I was old enough to wear a tie."

"It must have been lonely," Y/N observed, the words slipping out before she could censor them.

Wonwoo glanced at her, surprise evident in his expression. "It was. Most children had playmates; I had shareholders and board members."

There was no self-pity in his tone, just a simple statement of fact, but Y/N felt an unexpected pang of empathy. Perhaps they had more in common than she'd initially thought.

Before she could respond, a familiar voice called her name. Y/N turned to see Ela approaching, stunning in a crimson gown, with Mingyu by her side. For the first time that evening, Y/N's smile was entirely genuine.

"You look amazing," Ela said, embracing her. "Both of you. The engagement photos in the business section didn't do you justice."

"Thanks for coming," Y/N replied, genuinely grateful for friendly faces among the corporate crowd. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Mingyu's company is one of the sponsors," Ela explained. "Plus, I think our parents are testing us to see if we can be in the same room without causing a scene."

Mingyu's expression was a mix of amusement and resignation. "Three months since the last public argument. I think that's a new record."

Wonwoo greeted his friend with a warm handshake that transformed into a brief hug. "Glad you made it. Our table has two empty seats if you'd like to join us."

"Rescue accepted," Ela said with a laugh. "My parents are on the other side of the room with the pharmaceutical contingent. I'm happy to delay that particular reunion."

As they settled at their table, Y/N found herself observing the easy camaraderie between Wonwoo and Mingyu. There was a genuine friendship there, built on what was clearly years of shared experiences. Wonwoo seemed more relaxed, more himself, than she'd seen him before.

"How are you really doing?" Ela asked quietly while the men were engrossed in conversation. "This can't be easy."

Y/N glanced at Wonwoo, who was laughing at something Mingyu had said. "It's... not what I expected."

"Meaning?"

"He's..." Y/N struggled to articulate her confusion. "He's good at pretending. Sometimes I almost forget we're not really engaged."

Ela studied her thoughtfully. "Maybe he's not pretending as much as you think."

Before Y/N could question her friend further, Wonwoo turned to them, his smile warming as his eyes met Y/N's. "What are you two conspiring about?"

"Just girl talk," Ela replied smoothly. "I was asking Y/N when you two lovebirds are joining us for dinner. It's been too long since we all got together."

"Actually," Mingyu interjected, "we were thinking of hosting a dinner next weekend. Something small—just us, you two, and maybe our parents? Like a pre-wedding families meetup."

Y/N nearly choked on her water. "All our parents? Together?"

"It could be... interesting," Wonwoo said diplomatically, though Y/N could see the same apprehension in his eyes that she felt.

"By 'interesting,' you mean potentially catastrophic," Ela said with a laugh. "But maybe it's better to get it over with before the wedding planning really begins. My parents already have opinions about the venue, and I'm sure yours do too."

The conversation shifted to wedding plans—all hypothetical, all part of their charade—but Y/N found herself struggling to focus. The reality of how deep their deception ran was hitting her anew. This wasn't just about living together and attending occasional events. There would be family dinners, wedding preparations, a lifetime of intersecting social obligations before they could execute their exit strategy.

Three years suddenly felt like an eternity.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Wonwoo asked as they drove home, the city lights casting intermittent shadows across his profile.

Y/N leaned her head against the cool window, exhaustion setting in now that they were away from prying eyes. "It was fine. You were right about the escape tactics."

"I've had years to perfect them," he replied, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Though I must admit, having you there made it more bearable than usual."

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the admission. "Really?"

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, but a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Really. It's nice having someone to share sardonic glances with when Chairman Park starts his third investment story."

The observation made Y/N laugh. "I thought I was being subtle."

"You were. I'm just becoming fluent in your expressions." Wonwoo navigated a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. "Your left eyebrow raises slightly when you're skeptical, and you have a particular smile that doesn't reach your eyes when you're being polite but unimpressed."

The accuracy of his observation was unsettling. "You're very observant."

"I told you, I notice things," he said simply. "Especially about you."

The statement hung between them, weighted with an implication Y/N wasn't sure how to interpret. Before she could respond, Wonwoo changed the subject.

"About the dinner with Ela and Mingyu—we don't have to go if you'd rather not."

Y/N considered the prospect of all their parents in one room. "No, Ela's right. If this were real, our families would be getting to know each other. We should maintain the illusion."

Wonwoo nodded, though he seemed distracted. "I'll confirm with Mingyu, then."

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence. By the time they reached home, Y/N was struggling to keep her eyes open, the emotional toll of the evening catching up with her.

"Go on up," Wonwoo said as they entered the house. "I'll lock up."

Y/N paused at the foot of the stairs, watching as he moved through their shared space with familiar ease, checking windows and setting the security system. In just three weeks, they had developed a domestic rhythm that felt strangely natural—Wonwoo taking care of the house's security, Y/N usually managing the kitchen on her days off, both of them respecting each other's space and privacy.

"Wonwoo," she said impulsively, "thank you. For tonight. You made it easier."

He looked up, surprise and something warmer flickering in his eyes. "You're welcome. Sleep well, Y/N."

As she climbed the stairs, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting between them—something beyond the parameters of their arrangement. The thought both intrigued and alarmed her as she prepared for bed, removing the delicate necklace he'd lent her for the evening.

It wasn't until she was drifting off to sleep that she realized she'd stopped thinking of their engagement as entirely fake. Somewhere in the past three weeks, it had become real in small, domestic ways—not the love, perhaps, but the partnership.

The realization should have frightened her more than it did.

Morning brought a return to normalcy as Y/N prepared for her hospital shift. She was pouring coffee into her travel mug when Wonwoo appeared in the kitchen, already dressed for work in a crisp suit that made him look every inch the corporate heir.

"Early meeting?" she asked, noting the time. It was barely 6 AM.

"Board presentation," he confirmed, moving to the refrigerator. "You're on until eight tonight?"

Y/N blinked, surprised he'd remembered her schedule. "Yes. How did you know?"

Wonwoo withdrew a paper bag and handed it to her. "I made you lunch. Nothing fancy, just some kimbap and fruit."

Y/N stared at the bag, then at Wonwoo, completely caught off guard by the thoughtful gesture. "You didn't have to do that."

"The hospital cafeteria is abysmal, and you always forget to eat on long shifts," he said matter-of-factly, as if preparing her lunch was the most natural thing in the world. "There's extra if you want to share with Seungcheol or your friends."

Y/N was momentarily speechless. It wasn't just the lunch that stunned her, but the casual demonstration that Wonwoo paid attention to details of her life—her schedule, her eating habits, her workplace friendships.

"Thank you," she finally managed. "That's... very kind."

Wonwoo shrugged, seeming almost embarrassed by her gratitude. "It's what partners do, right? Even fake ones."

There it was again—that blurring of lines between their arrangement and something more authentic. Y/N didn't know how to respond, so she simply nodded and finished preparing her coffee.

As they moved around the kitchen in their morning routine, Y/N found herself hyperaware of Wonwoo's presence. The domesticity of their situation struck her anew. In a parallel universe where their engagement was real, this could be their life—shared mornings, small considerations, the quiet rhythm of two lives intertwining.

The thought was both comforting and disquieting.

"I should go," she said, gathering her things. "Good luck with your presentation."

Wonwoo looked up from his own coffee, his expression softening. "Be safe. Text me if you'll be later than eight."

The concern in his voice seemed genuine, and Y/N found herself nodding. "I will."

The drive to the hospital gave Y/N time to process her confusion. Wonwoo was proving to be nothing like the cold corporate heir she'd imagined. Instead, he was thoughtful, perceptive, and surprisingly easy to live with. Their fake engagement was beginning to feel like a real partnership, at least in the domestic sense, and Y/N wasn't sure how to feel about that development.

By the time she arrived at the hospital, she had resolved to maintain clearer boundaries. This was still a temporary arrangement, regardless of how comfortable it might become. Getting too attached would only complicate their eventual separation.

As Y/N changed into her scrubs, her phone chimed with a message from Wonwoo:

Forgot to mention—your mother called yesterday about wedding venue tours next month. I said we'd discuss it and get back to her.

Reality crashed back. The wedding. Of course their families would expect planning to begin in earnest now that their engagement was public. Y/N texted back a quick acknowledgment, her earlier contentment evaporating.

This was the reality of their situation—a constant performance, a fabricated future they were building solely to dismantle later. No matter how genuine Wonwoo's kindness might be, it existed within a framework of deception.

She needed to remember that.

"Someone's got an admirer," Alexys commented, dropping into the seat across from Y/N in the cafeteria later that day. "That lunch looks way too good to be hospital food."

Y/N glanced down at the meticulously prepared kimbap Wonwoo had made. "It's nothing. Just something quick from home."

"'Home,'" Alexys repeated with air quotes. "Still weird to think of you shacking up with Tech Prince Charming."

Ela joined them, setting down her tray with a sigh. "Ignore her. She's just cranky because Tiya from pathology rejected her latest batch of samples."

"Not rejected. Questioned," Alexys corrected indignantly. "As if I don't know how to prepare a proper slide after six years. Just because she has an MD after her name doesn't mean—"

"We know," Y/N and Ela said in unison, having heard this particular rant many times before.

Alexys narrowed her eyes. "Fine. Let's talk about Y/N's fancy fiancé instead. Spill the details on domestic bliss."

Y/N picked at her food, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "There's nothing to spill. We're... adjusting."

"Adjusting, huh?" Alexys wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"It's not like that," Y/N protested, perhaps too quickly. "We have separate rooms."

Ela studied her thoughtfully. "But you're getting along? He's treating you well?"

The genuine concern in her friend's voice made Y/N soften. "Yes, he's... not what I expected. He's actually very considerate."

"Considerate enough to make you lunch, apparently," Alexys observed, stealing a piece of kimbap. "Damn, that's good. Can he cook for all of us?"

Despite herself, Y/N smiled. "He does enjoy cooking. Says it relaxes him after work."

"A rich, handsome man who cooks," Alexys sighed dramatically. "Are you sure this is an arranged marriage and not a Hallmark movie?"

Y/N's response was interrupted by the appearance of Seungcheol, tray in hand. "Mind if I join you?"

"Please," Ela said, shifting to make room. "We were just discussing Y/N's domestic situation."

Something flickered across Seungcheol's face as he sat down. "Right. The engagement. It's all anyone's talking about since those photos hit the business section."

Y/N hadn't considered how public their arrangement would become within the hospital community. "People need to find better gossip."

"You're the CEO's daughter suddenly engaged to a tech mogul," Alexys pointed out. "It's prime hospital gossip material."

Seungcheol picked at his food, his usual easy demeanor replaced by something more reserved. "So, how is... everything? With the engagement?"

Y/N felt a strange tension, aware of both her friends' curious gazes and Seungcheol's careful neutrality. "It's not ideal, but it's what my parents want," she replied carefully, maintaining their arrangement's secrecy while acknowledging the arranged nature of the match.

If she had been watching more closely, she might have noticed the flash of hurt in Seungcheol's eyes. But Alexys quickly steered the conversation toward her latest pathology department grievance, and the moment passed.

As lunch continued, Y/N found herself increasingly aware of Seungcheol's unusual quietness. Had she said something wrong? Before she could consider it further, their pagers went off simultaneously—multiple trauma incoming from a building collapse.

Professional mode took over as they rushed to the emergency department, personal concerns set aside in the face of immediate need. For the next several hours, Y/N lost herself in the work she loved, the rhythm of emergency medicine washing away her conflicted thoughts about Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and the increasingly complicated web they were weaving.

It was late evening by the time things calmed down, all patients stabilized and either admitted or discharged. Y/N was updating charts at the nurses' station when Seungcheol approached, two cups of vending machine coffee in hand.

"Thought you could use this," he said, offering her one. "It's terrible, but it's caffeinated."

Y/N accepted gratefully. "Thanks. You were amazing in there with that crush injury."

Seungcheol shrugged, though his eyes warmed at the praise. "We make a good team."

"Always have," she agreed, the familiar ease of their friendship reasserting itself.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, shoulders occasionally brushing as they moved around each other with the synchronicity born of years working together. It was comfortable, predictable—everything her arrangement with Wonwoo was not.

"There's a hospital fundraiser next month," Seungcheol said suddenly. "Black tie, very fancy. Will you be attending with..." He hesitated. "With your fiancé?"

The question seemed loaded with something Y/N couldn't quite identify. "I suppose so. These public appearances are part of the package now."

Seungcheol nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "Right. Of course." He paused, then added quietly, "Are you happy, Y/N?"

The directness of the question caught her off guard. "What?"

"With the engagement," he clarified. "Are you happy?"

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to answer truthfully without revealing too much. "It's not ideal, but it's what my parents want," she repeated, the practiced line feeling hollow even to her own ears.

Something shifted in Seungcheol's expression, a flash of emotion quickly masked. "As long as you're happy, that's what matters."

Before Y/N could respond, another nurse called Seungcheol away for assistance with a difficult IV. As he walked away, Y/N had the distinct feeling she'd missed something important in their exchange.

Her phone vibrated with a text from Wonwoo:

Running late at the office. Don't wait up. There's dinner in the fridge if you're hungry when you get home.

Home. There was that word again, carrying a weight and meaning Y/N wasn't ready to examine too closely.

The next morning, Y/N awoke to the sound of voices downstairs—one familiar, one unexpectedly female and definitely not Korean. Curious, she pulled on a robe and padded downstairs to find Wonwoo in the kitchen with a young woman who could only be Haerin, her glamorous younger sister.

"Unnie!" Haerin exclaimed, rushing to embrace Y/N. "Surprise!"

Y/N returned the hug automatically, too shocked to do anything else. "Haerin? What—how—"

"I told everyone I was doing a cultural exchange program, but really I just missed my big sister," Haerin explained, stepping back to examine Y/N critically. "Still working too hard, I see. Those are definitely new eyebags."

Wonwoo watched their reunion with an amused expression, already dressed for work despite the early hour. "Your sister arrived about twenty minutes ago. I was just making her breakfast."

"He's cute," Haerin stage-whispered to Y/N. "And he cooks. Did the universe finally reward you for all those double shifts?"

Y/N felt her cheeks warm. "Haerin, this is Wonwoo, my—"

"Fiancé, yes, I know," Haerin interrupted with a dismissive wave. "The announcement made it all the way to my Italian Instagram. Very chic photos, by the way."

Y/N glanced at Wonwoo, who seemed remarkably unfazed by Hurricane Haerin's arrival. "I didn't know you were coming."

"That's what 'surprise' means, unnie," Haerin said with a laugh, hopping onto a barstool at the kitchen island. "When Mom told me you were engaged, I had to see this miracle for myself. My workaholic sister, actually settling down? I thought the apocalypse would come first."

Wonwoo set a plate of perfectly prepared eggs and toast in front of Haerin. "Coffee?"

"Bless you, yes," Haerin replied with a dazzling smile. "I can see why she said yes. A man who makes breakfast is worth a thousand with fancy cars."

Y/N felt a surge of panic. Haerin had always been able to see through her, even as children. How long before her perceptive sister realized their engagement was a sham?

"I have an early meeting," Wonwoo said, checking his watch. "I'll leave you two to catch up. There's plenty of food if you're hungry, Y/N."

"Thank you," Y/N managed, still processing Haerin's unexpected arrival.

Wonwoo paused beside her on his way out, then, to Y/N's shock, leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Have a good day," he murmured, just loud enough for Haerin to hear. "I'll text you later."

The casual intimacy of the gesture left Y/N speechless. As the front door closed behind him, she turned to find Haerin watching her with raised eyebrows.

"Well, well," her sister said, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Interesting."

Y/N touched her cheek, still warm from Wonwoo's kiss. "What's interesting?"

"The way you looked at him just now," Haerin said, taking a bite of toast. "Like you actually care about him."

"Of course I care about him," Y/N replied automatically. "He's my fiancé."

Haerin's eyes narrowed. "Hmm. Sit down, unnie. Eat something. Then you're going to tell me what's really going on."

"I don't know what you mean," Y/N said, pouring herself coffee to avoid her sister's scrutiny.

"Oh please," Haerin scoffed. "I've known you my entire life. Three months ago you were complaining about being married to your job. Now suddenly you're engaged to Korea's most eligible tech heir? Something doesn't add up."

Y/N should have known she couldn't fool Haerin. Her sister might project an image of carefree frivolity, but beneath the designer clothes and perfect makeup was a razor-sharp intelligence.

"It's complicated," Y/N hedged, joining her sister at the island.

"Complicated as in arranged?" Haerin guessed, her tone softening. "I figured as much when Mom started dropping hints about 'advantageous connections' after I refused to come home from Italy."

Y/N stared at her sister. "You mean—"

"If I'd been in Korea, it probably would have been me instead of you," Haerin confirmed with a grimace. "Sorry about that. Though I have to say, you seem to have landed the better end of the deal. He's hot, he cooks, and he actually looks at you like you matter. Arranged or not, there are worse fates."

Y/N wasn't sure how to respond. The idea that Wonwoo looked at her "like she mattered" was both comforting and confusing. Was he that good an actor, or was there something more genuine in his attentiveness?

"It's not what I planned for my life," Y/N finally said, opting for honesty without revealing their secret arrangement.

Haerin reached across the island to squeeze her hand. "Few things ever are. But sometimes the unexpected turns out better than the plan."

"When did you get so wise?" Y/N asked, studying her sister's face. There was something different about Haerin—a new maturity behind the fashionable facade.

"Italy has been educational in more ways than one," Haerin replied with a mysterious smile. "But we're talking about you, not me. Is he good to you? Really?"

Y/N considered the question. Wonwoo's thoughtfulness, his respect for her career, the small ways he tried to make their arrangement easier—all genuine kindnesses that went beyond their agreement.

"Yes," she admitted. "He's good to me."

"Then maybe give it a chance," Haerin suggested. "Not just the arrangement part, but the relationship. You might surprise yourself."

Before Y/N could protest that their relationship wasn't real, her phone chimed with a message. She glanced down to see a text from the hospital administration:

Approval for your participation in the Philippines medical mission (May 15-June 15) is pending final review. Please submit additional documentation regarding coverage of your regular duties during absence.

Y/N's heart leapt. The month-long medical mission she'd applied for months ago—before the engagement, before Wonwoo—was finally moving forward. It was exactly the kind of work she was passionate about: bringing healthcare to underserved communities, using her skills where they were most needed.

"Good news?" Haerin asked, noting her expression.

"Potentially," Y/N replied, already mentally cataloging what documentation she needed to submit. "A medical mission I applied for might be happening."

Haerin's brow furrowed. "When is it?"

"May through June."

"Isn't that around when Mom was talking about venue tours and engagement parties?"

The realization hit Y/N like a bucket of cold water. Of course—the mission would conflict directly with the wedding planning their mothers were eager to begin.

"I'm sure Wonwoo will understand," Y/N said, though uncertainty crept into her voice. "My career was one of our conditions. He knows how important these missions are to me."

Haerin looked skeptical. "It's not just about Wonwoo, though, is it? This is about appearances. You disappearing for a month in the middle of engagement celebrations isn't going to look good to either family."

Y/N felt a familiar frustration rising. This was exactly why she'd resisted the arranged marriage in the first place—the inevitable clash between her calling and her family's expectations.

"I'm still going," she said firmly. "If this arrangement is going to work, Wonwoo needs to support my career just as I respect his."

Haerin studied her for a long moment. "You know, for someone in an arranged engagement, you sound awfully invested in making it work."

The observation struck uncomfortably close to home. "It's a partnership," Y/N said defensively. "For however long it lasts."

"Hmm," Haerin hummed noncommittally. "If you say so, unnie. But I think there's more happening here than you're admitting—even to yourself."

Y/N changed the subject, asking about Haerin's adventures in Italy, but her sister's words lingered. Was she becoming too invested in their arrangement? Was she starting to see it as something more than the temporary solution it was meant to be?

And how would Wonwoo react when she told him about the medical mission that would take her away for a month, just when their families expected them to be planning their future together?

The question troubled her more than it should have for a relationship that wasn't real.

The hospital fundraiser was in full swing when Y/N and Wonwoo arrived, the grand ballroom of Seoul's most exclusive hotel transformed into a glittering showcase of wealth and influence. As the daughter of the hospital's CEO and the fiancée of a tech mogul, Y/N found herself the center of attention despite her preference for anonymity.

"You look beautiful," Wonwoo murmured as they entered, his hand warm at the small of her back. "That color suits you."

Y/N smoothed the emerald silk of her gown, chosen specifically because Wonwoo had once mentioned it was his favorite color. The realization that she'd considered his preferences made her pause. When had his opinion started to matter?

"Thank you," she replied, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "You clean up nicely yourself."

It was an understatement. In his tailored tuxedo, Wonwoo looked every inch the successful heir, though Y/N had come to recognize the subtle tension in his shoulders that appeared whenever they attended public events.

"Shall we make the rounds?" he suggested, scanning the room. "Your father is watching."

Sure enough, Dr. Lee was observing them from across the ballroom, his expression expectant. Y/N suppressed a sigh. "Duty calls."

They spent the next hour circulating among Seoul's elite, playing the part of the devoted couple to perfection. Wonwoo kept her close, his fingers lightly entwined with hers, occasionally leaning down to whisper observations that made her laugh despite her nervousness.

By the time they reached the hospital staff section, Y/N was exhausted from the performance. She brightened at the sight of Ela and Alexys, both looking elegant in formal wear that contrasted with their usual scrubs and lab coats.

"Finally!" Alexys exclaimed. "We thought the corporate vultures would never let you go."

"Hospital benefactors," Ela corrected with a subtle elbow to Alexys's ribs. "Show some respect to the people who fund your lab equipment."

Wonwoo chuckled. "It's fine. I've called them worse in private."

Y/N glanced up at him in surprise. It was easy to forget sometimes that beneath the polished corporate exterior was someone who understood the frustrations of navigating the elite business world.

"Where's Mingyu?" she asked Ela, noticing her friend's husband's absence.

"Running late. Some crisis at the office." Ela rolled her eyes fondly. "He works almost as much as your fiancé."

"Speaking of workaholics," Alexys interjected, "Seungcheol's been looking for you, Y/N. Something about next week's schedule."

Y/N scanned the room, spotting Seungcheol in conversation with several other nurses near the bar. "I should go check in. Work stuff."

Wonwoo nodded, releasing her hand. "Go ahead. I'll catch up with Mingyu when he arrives."

As Y/N made her way across the ballroom, she was acutely aware of the weight of Wonwoo's gaze following her. It was both comforting and unsettling, this constant awareness of his presence.

Seungcheol looked up as she approached, his face lighting with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Y/N! I wasn't sure you'd make it."

"Hospital CEO's daughter," she reminded him with a rueful smile. "Attendance is mandatory."

He nodded toward where Wonwoo stood with Ela and Alexys. "Your fiancé seems to be fitting in well with your friends."

There was something in his tone that Y/N couldn't quite identify. "He's easy to talk to once you get to know him."

Seungcheol studied her for a moment. "Alexys mentioned you two hit it off right away. I guess arranged marriages aren't always what people think."

Y/N felt a flicker of discomfort at the reminder of their deception. "It's... complicated."

"Is it?" Seungcheol's voice was quiet. "You seem happy together. The way he looks at you..."

"How does he look at me?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious about how their performance appeared to others.

Seungcheol's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "Like you're the only person in the room."

The observation sent an unexpected warmth through Y/N. Was that true? Did Wonwoo really look at her that way, or was it just part of their charade?

"Alexys said you wanted to discuss the schedule?" she prompted, eager to change the subject.

"Right," Seungcheol seemed to collect himself. "We're short staffed next week. I was hoping you might be able to pick up a few extra shifts."

"Of course," Y/N agreed readily. "Just let me know which ones you need covered."

They fell into familiar professional conversation, the awkwardness fading as they discussed work matters. Yet Y/N couldn't help noticing that Seungcheol seemed different—more reserved, less free with his usual easy humor.

"Is everything okay?" she finally asked. "You seem... I don't know, off somehow."

Seungcheol hesitated, then sighed. "I'm just surprised, I guess. By all of this." He gestured vaguely in the direction of Wonwoo. "It happened so suddenly."

"That's how these arrangements work," Y/N said carefully. "Efficiency is valued over romance."

"And you're okay with that?" There was something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or something deeper. "Being with someone because your parents arranged it?"

Y/N felt cornered by the question. "It's not ideal, but it's what my parents want," she replied, the practiced phrase feeling hollow.

Seungcheol looked hurt, though Y/N couldn't understand why. "As long as you're happy, that's what matters," he said, echoing his earlier sentiment.

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by a commotion from the pathology department's table. Alexys's voice rose above the elegant murmur of the fundraiser:

"Are you serious right now? You rejected my samples because the labels were 'slightly smudged'?"

Y/N turned to see Alexys facing off with a slender woman in a striking blue gown—Dr. Tiya Park, the new pathologist who had apparently become Alexys's professional nemesis.

"I rejected them because they didn't meet proper documentation standards," Tiya replied calmly, though there was steel beneath her pleasant tone. "Patient safety isn't negotiable, even for rushed labs."

"Oh please," Alexys scoffed. "You've been finding excuses to bounce my work since you started. Just admit you have a problem with the med techs."

Y/N exchanged an alarmed glance with Seungcheol. "I should probably—"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Before Alexys gets herself fired."

They hurried over to the rapidly escalating situation, Y/N reaching Alexys just as she was building to what promised to be a particularly colorful assessment of pathology department politics.

"Alexys!" Y/N interrupted, taking her friend's arm. "There you are. Dr. Kim was just looking for you about that new equipment order."

Alexys blinked, momentarily derailed. "What equipment order?"

"The important one," Y/N emphasized, tugging her away from Tiya. "The one we need to discuss right now."

Tiya watched them with cool amusement as Y/N led Alexys toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, Seungcheol following closely behind.

"What are you doing?" Alexys hissed once they were out of earshot. "I was just getting to the good part."

"You were about to cause a scene at the hospital's biggest fundraising event of the year," Y/N corrected. "In front of the board, the donors, and pretty much everyone who signs your paychecks."

"She started it," Alexys muttered, though some of the fight had gone out of her. "With her 'documentation standards' and her perfect hair."

Seungcheol stifled a laugh. "Her hair? That's what you're mad about?"

"Have you seen it?" Alexys demanded. "It's unfair to look that good in scrubs and formal wear. She's probably one of those people who wakes up looking perfect too."

Y/N and Seungcheol exchanged amused glances. "Sounds like you need another drink," Y/N suggested. "One that doesn't involve confronting the pathologist who processes all your lab work."

"Fine," Alexys conceded with an eye roll. "But this isn't over. That woman is out to get me."

As Seungcheol escorted Alexys to the bar, promising to keep her away from the pathology department for the rest of the evening, Y/N felt a warm presence at her back. She turned to find Wonwoo, an amused expression on his face.

"Your friend is... spirited," he observed.

Y/N laughed despite herself. "That's one word for it. Sorry about the drama."

"Don't apologize. It's the most entertaining thing that's happened all night." His eyes crinkled with genuine humor. "Most hospital conflicts I've witnessed are conducted through passive-aggressive emails, not ballroom showdowns."

"Alexys doesn't do passive-aggressive," Y/N explained. "Just aggressive-aggressive. But she's brilliant at her job."

"The best ones often are a bit unconventional," Wonwoo agreed, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "Speaking of which, how's the medical mission paperwork coming along?"

Y/N stiffened, surprised he knew about it. "How did you—"

"Haerin mentioned it," he explained. "She was concerned about the timing."

Of course Haerin would bring it up. Y/N braced herself for Wonwoo's objections, preparing arguments in defense of her career commitment.

"I know it conflicts with the wedding planning," she began, "but this mission is important to me. It's the kind of work that makes a real difference."

To her surprise, Wonwoo nodded thoughtfully. "I assumed as much. Have you contacted the program director about the specific training requirements? Some NGOs have preparation protocols that start months before departure."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his practical support rather than the resistance she'd expected. "I... yes, actually. There's a weekend training session next month."

"Let me know when it is," Wonwoo said. "I'll make sure our schedule is clear so you can attend without any conflicts."

"You're not going to try to talk me out of it?" Y/N asked, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Wonwoo looked genuinely confused. "Why would I? It's your career, Y/N. Your passion. That was our agreement, wasn't it? That both of us would continue our professional paths without interference."

Relief and something warmer flooded through her. "Yes, but I thought—with your parents' expectations—"

"My parents' expectations are not your problem," Wonwoo said firmly. "We'll manage them together. If you want to go on this mission, then we'll make it work with everything else."

Y/N studied him, trying to reconcile this supportive partner with the corporate heir she'd initially dreaded. "Thank you," she said finally, meaning it. "Most people don't understand why these missions matter to me."

"I'm not most people," Wonwoo replied simply. "And I don't have to understand something completely to respect that it's important to you."

The statement, delivered without fanfare, touched Y/N more deeply than any grand gesture could have. Perhaps for the first time, she felt genuine gratitude for the partner she'd been assigned.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of both sets of parents, converging on them with the determined air of people with agendas.

"There you are," Mrs. Jeon said, her critical gaze sweeping over Y/N. "We've been discussing wedding dates with your parents. June seems ideal—"

"Actually," Wonwoo cut in smoothly, "we were thinking of a fall wedding. September or October."

Y/N shot him a grateful glance, understanding immediately what he was doing—pushing the timeline beyond her medical mission.

"Fall?" her mother repeated, clearly disappointed. "But the gardens are so beautiful in June."

"Y/N has professional commitments in June," Wonwoo explained, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Her medical work is important, and we both want to respect that."

Y/N's father frowned. "Surely these... nursing duties can be rescheduled. The merger—I mean, the wedding—should take priority."

"On the contrary," Wonwoo replied, his voice pleasant but firm. "Y/N's dedication to her profession is one of the qualities I most admire. We won't be scheduling our wedding at the expense of her career."

Silence fell among the parental contingent, all four clearly taken aback by Wonwoo's stance. Y/N herself was speechless, never having witnessed anyone—much less a corporate ally—defend her nursing career to her father.

"Well," Mrs. Jeon finally said, her tight smile not reaching her eyes, "I suppose we can discuss the timeline further at dinner next weekend. Ela's mother was just telling me about their lovely home in Gangnam."

As the parents drifted away, clearly regrouping for their next assault, Y/N turned to Wonwoo in amazement. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," he replied simply. "Partners support each other. Even fake ones."

There it was again—that line between pretense and reality blurring until Y/N could no longer clearly see where one ended and the other began. Wonwoo had defended her, not for show or because their agreement required it, but because he genuinely seemed to respect her work.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember that their engagement was just a three-year plan with a predetermined expiration date.

As the evening continued, Y/N found herself watching Wonwoo with new eyes, noticing the small kindnesses he extended not just to her but to everyone around him—remembering Ela's assistant's name, helping an elderly donor navigate the crowded ballroom, listening intently to Alexys's animated explanation of some lab technique.

This wasn't just the polished performance of a corporate heir. This was who Wonwoo was beneath the public persona—attentive, considerate, and surprisingly genuine.

The realization was both comforting and terrifying. Comforting because it meant the next three years might be more bearable than she'd initially feared. Terrifying because it made their eventual separation all the more complicated.

What happens, she wondered, when pretending becomes too close to reality? When the lines between performance and truth blur beyond recognition?

As Wonwoo caught her watching him and smiled—that private smile she was beginning to recognize as meant only for her—Y/N felt something shift inside her. Something that made their three-year plan suddenly seem both too short and too long.

Too short for whatever was beginning to grow between them.

Too long to maintain the pretense that it meant nothing.

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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our three year plan pt. 2 | wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 3k~ Warnings/note: wonwoo's pov that i wanted to write so treat this as chapter 1.2

masterlist | prev. part | next part

The first week of cohabitation passed in a strange dance of politeness and careful boundaries. Y/N and Wonwoo established routines that minimized awkward encounters—she took early morning showers, he preferred evenings; she often worked night shifts, he was typically gone before dawn for early meetings. When their paths did cross, conversation remained cordial but superficial.

Wonwoo cooked dinner most evenings he was home, leaving covered plates in the refrigerator with neatly written reheating instructions when their schedules didn't align. Y/N found herself oddly touched by this thoughtfulness, though she reminded herself not to read too much into it. This was, after all, a business arrangement.

On Friday morning, Y/N was enjoying a rare day off when her phone chimed with a message from Wonwoo:

My parents are expecting us for dinner tonight. 7 PM. I can pick you up at 6:30.

Reality crashed back. Of course their arrangement would include family obligations. She texted back a simple confirmation, then spent the next hour staring at her closet, suddenly aware that she had no idea what to wear to dinner with her fake future in-laws.

Another text from Wonwoo arrived as if he'd sensed her dilemma:

Casual elegant is fine. My mother appreciates understated sophistication. Don't worry too much—you'll impress them regardless.

Y/N wasn't sure if she should be grateful for the guidance or unnerved by his perception. She settled on a simple navy dress with subtle gold accessories—professional enough to show she took the dinner seriously, but not trying too hard.

At precisely 6:30, Wonwoo's Tesla pulled into the driveway. Y/N had expected him to honk or text, but instead, he came to the door, knocking politely as if he were picking her up for a real date rather than a performance for his parents.

When she opened the door, she was momentarily taken aback. Gone was the casual Wonwoo she'd grown accustomed to seeing around the house. In his place stood the corporate heir in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his usually tousled hair styled neatly, his round glasses exchanged for contacts that somehow made his gaze more intense.

"You look nice," he said, his eyes briefly taking in her appearance with what seemed like genuine appreciation.

"So do you," she responded automatically, then caught herself. This wasn't a date; there was no need for compliments.

The drive to his parents' estate was mostly silent, but as they approached the imposing gates, Wonwoo cleared his throat.

"Before we go in, we should discuss how we met."

Y/N blinked. "We've known each other since childhood, haven't we? Through family connections?"

"Yes, but that doesn't explain how we fell in love," Wonwoo pointed out. "They'll want the story. My mother especially."

Love story. The words hung between them, a reminder of the lie they were about to perform.

"What do you suggest?" Y/N asked.

Wonwoo's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "The closest to the truth is usually the most convincing. We reconnected at the tech-medical conference last year. The one your father keynoted."

Y/N vaguely remembered the event—a three-day bore of corporate networking that her father had insisted she attend. "I don't recall seeing you there."

Something flickered across Wonwoo's face. "I was there. We even spoke briefly during the reception." At her blank look, he added, "You were more focused on the doctor from Johns Hopkins who was discussing rural healthcare initiatives."

The specificity of his recollection surprised her. "You remember that?"

"I notice things," he said simply. Then, returning to the matter at hand: "We could say we reconnected there, kept in touch, and realized there was something more than friendship."

It was as good a story as any, Y/N supposed. "Alright. The conference it is."

As they pulled up to the house, Wonwoo reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. "One more thing."

Y/N's heart skipped uncomfortably. "Is that—"

"An engagement ring," he confirmed, opening the box to reveal a stunning platinum band with a modest but flawless diamond. "My mother will expect it."

When Y/N hesitated, he added gently, "It was my grandmother's. It seemed better than something impersonal from a jeweler."

The sentiment behind the gesture caught Y/N off guard. Using a family heirloom for their fake engagement felt wrong somehow, more deceptive than she'd anticipated.

"Wonwoo, I can't wear your grandmother's ring for this."

"Why not?" His voice was soft, his expression difficult to read in the dim car interior.

"Because it means something to you. It's... too real."

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, then said, "Maybe that's why it's perfect. The more authentic elements we include, the more convincing our story will be."

His logic was sound, yet Y/N couldn't shake her discomfort as he took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her. The weight of it felt foreign, intimidating.

"Ready?" Wonwoo asked, his hand lingering over hers for a moment before he pulled away.

Y/N took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

"So, Y/N," Mrs. Jeon said as they settled in the dining room, "Wonwoo tells us you reconnected at last year's innovation summit. How romantic."

Y/N glanced at Wonwoo, who gave her the smallest encouraging nod. "Yes, though I must admit I was quite focused on the presentations. Your son had to be quite persistent to get my attention."

Wonwoo's eyebrows rose slightly at her improvisation, but he recovered quickly. "Y/N was the only person there more interested in the actual innovations than the networking opportunities. It was... refreshing."

The warmth in his voice sounded so genuine that Y/N almost believed it herself.

"And now here we are," Mr. Jeon said, raising his wine glass. "To new beginnings and stronger alliances."

The business-like toast reminded Y/N of the true nature of their arrangement, grounding her. This wasn't about romance; it was about corporate synergy.

Dinner proceeded with surprisingly little interrogation. The elder Jeons seemed content to discuss business matters, occasionally drawing Wonwoo into the conversation but largely ignoring Y/N except for perfunctory questions about her family.

It wasn't until dessert was served that Mrs. Jeon turned her attention fully to Y/N. "Wonwoo mentioned you work as a nurse? How... unusual, given your background."

The slight pause conveyed volumes of judgment. Y/N felt Wonwoo tense beside her.

"I find direct patient care deeply fulfilling," Y/N replied evenly. "There's something irreplaceable about being on the front lines of healthcare."

"Surely there are more appropriate ways for someone of your position to contribute," Mrs. Jeon suggested, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Board work, perhaps, or fundraising."

Before Y/N could respond, Wonwoo cut in. "Y/N's practical experience makes her uniquely valuable. In fact, her insights have already helped shape some of our medical technology initiatives." He turned to her, his expression softening. "Her perspective is precisely why she's so important—to the company and to me."

The declaration, delivered with such conviction, momentarily stunned Y/N. It was a masterful performance, supportive yet plausible within their fabricated narrative.

"How sweet," Mrs. Jeon murmured, clearly unconvinced. "Still, once you're married, priorities naturally shift. Children, social obligations..."

"We're in no rush for children," Wonwoo stated firmly. "And Y/N's career is as important as mine. That's non-negotiable for both of us."

The tension around the table thickened. Mr. Jeon cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss the engagement announcement. We're thinking next month's charity gala would be an appropriate venue."

Y/N barely registered the rest of the conversation as Wonwoo and his parents discussed event details. Her mind was caught on Wonwoo's defense of her career—delivered with such natural conviction that even she had momentarily forgotten it was part of their act.

Later, as they drove home in silence, Y/N finally spoke. "Thank you. For what you said about my nursing."

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, his profile illuminated by passing streetlights. "I meant it."

"You did?"

He nodded. "Just because our engagement is arranged doesn't mean I don't respect what you do. My grandfather was saved by a dedicated ER nurse once. I understand the value."

It was the most personal thing he'd shared with her, and Y/N wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Still, thank you. Your mother clearly had other ideas about a suitable daughter-in-law."

"My mother has many ideas," Wonwoo said with a slight smile. "Fortunately, this is our arrangement, not hers."

The "our" lingered between them, a reminder of their strange alliance. Y/N twisted the ring on her finger, still uncomfortable with its presence.

"I can get you a different ring if that one bothers you," Wonwoo said, noticing her gesture.

"No," Y/N said quickly, surprising herself. "It's beautiful. I just... I'm not used to it yet."

As they pulled into their driveway, Y/N realized this was true of more than just the ring. She wasn't used to any of this—the house, the pretense, the strange intimacy of sharing space with a man who was simultaneously a stranger and her supposed future husband.

"My mother will call you tomorrow," Wonwoo said as they entered the house. "She'll want to schedule lunch, probably with your mother too. To discuss wedding plans."

Y/N groaned. "Already? We just got engaged."

"In their minds, we've been together for months," he reminded her. "And big weddings take planning."

The reality of their situation hit Y/N anew. This wasn't just about living together and attending occasional family dinners. There would be an actual wedding—a ceremony, vows, everything.

"I need a drink," she muttered, heading for the kitchen.

To her surprise, Wonwoo followed, reaching into a cabinet she hadn't explored to produce a bottle of expensive scotch and two glasses. "I think we've earned this."

They settled at the kitchen island, the warm amber liquid burning pleasantly down Y/N's throat. "I'm starting to think three years isn't going to be as simple as I imagined."

Wonwoo swirled his drink thoughtfully. "Nothing worth doing ever is."

"Is that what this is? Worth doing?" Y/N challenged, emboldened by the scotch and the surreality of the evening.

"For me, yes," Wonwoo said simply, his eyes meeting hers with unexpected intensity. "Is it for you?"

The question hung between them, heavier than it should have been. Y/N broke eye contact first. "It's necessary. That's enough."

Wonwoo nodded slowly, accepting her answer without pressing further. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their drinks, until Y/N's curiosity got the better of her.

"Why did you agree so easily? To my plan?"

Wonwoo considered his glass for a long moment before answering. "Let's just say it aligns with my own interests."

"Which are?"

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Three years is a long time, Y/N. You'll figure it out."

There was something in his tone—a certainty, almost a challenge—that sent an odd shiver down Y/N's spine. Before she could pursue the matter, her phone chimed with a text from Seungcheol:

Emergency at the hospital. All hands on deck. Multi-car pileup on the highway.

Y/N was on her feet immediately. "I have to go. There's a major trauma situation."

Wonwoo stood as well, concern evident in his expression. "Do you want me to drive you?"

"No time. I'll call a taxi." She was already heading for the stairs to change into scrubs.

"I can be ready in two minutes," Wonwoo called after her.

Y/N paused, surprised by the offer. "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to." Something in his voice made her turn back to look at him. "But I want to. Partners help each other, fake or not."

The sincerity in his expression gave Y/N pause. Maybe there was more to Jeon Wonwoo than she'd initially assumed. "Okay. Two minutes."

As promised, Wonwoo was ready and waiting when she rushed back downstairs in her scrubs. They drove to the hospital in focused silence, Wonwoo navigating Seoul's late-night traffic with calm efficiency.

When they reached the emergency entrance, Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt, then hesitated. "Thank you."

"Text me when you're done," Wonwoo said. "I'll come get you, no matter what time."

It was such a simple offer, yet somehow deeply touching. "You don't need to wait up. I can—"

"I'll come get you," he repeated firmly. "Be safe."

Y/N nodded, strangely affected by his concern. As she rushed toward the ER doors, she caught sight of Seungcheol waiting for her, his expression changing from relief to confusion as he noticed the Tesla pulling away.

"Was that Jeon Wonwoo?" he asked as she approached.

"He gave me a ride," Y/N explained, already focusing on the chaos of the emergency department ahead. "What's the situation?"

Seungcheol studied her for a moment longer before switching to professional mode. "Five critical, twelve moderate injuries. Two ORs running simultaneously. We're assigned to Trauma Bay 3."

Y/N pushed all thoughts of Wonwoo and their complicated arrangement from her mind as she entered the familiar controlled chaos of the emergency room. Here, at least, she knew exactly who she was and what she was meant to do.

Yet even as she worked alongside Seungcheol with their usual seamless coordination, a small part of her remained aware of the unfamiliar weight on her left hand—the grandmother's ring that she hadn't thought to remove before rushing out.

Seven hours later, exhausted but satisfied after a successful mass casualty response, Y/N stumbled out of the hospital into the pale light of early morning. She had texted Wonwoo that she was taking the subway home, not expecting him to actually come at 5 AM after a single text.

Yet there he was, leaning against his car in the parking lot, two cups of coffee in hand.

"I said I'd come get you," he said simply, offering her one of the cups. "No matter what time."

Y/N accepted the coffee, too tired to argue and secretly grateful not to face the subway. As she slid into the passenger seat, the events of the previous night—the dinner, the ring, their conversation—seemed dreamlike compared to the visceral reality of her hospital shift.

"How was it?" Wonwoo asked as they pulled away from the hospital.

"We saved everyone," Y/N said, sipping the coffee—prepared exactly as she liked it, she noted. "One patient was touch and go for a while, but pulled through."

Wonwoo glanced at her, genuine admiration in his expression. "What you do... it matters. Real, immediate impact. That's rare."

The simple acknowledgment of her work's value touched Y/N more than she expected. Her parents had never understood her choice to practice nursing rather than pursue administration or medicine. To have Wonwoo, essentially a stranger, recognize it so easily was unexpectedly validating.

They rode in comfortable silence, Y/N fighting to keep her eyes open as exhaustion caught up with her. By the time they reached the house, she was half-asleep, roused only by the gentle stop of the car.

"Come on," Wonwoo said softly. "You need rest."

He walked beside her to the door, close enough to catch her if she stumbled but not touching her. The consideration in the gesture wasn't lost on Y/N, even in her fatigue.

Inside, she headed straight for the stairs, pausing at the bottom to look back at him. "Thank you. For the ride. And the coffee."

Wonwoo nodded. "Get some sleep. I'll be quiet when I leave for work."

Y/N started up the stairs, then turned back again, a question that had been nagging at her finally surfacing. "Wonwoo? At the conference last year... why do you remember me focusing on that rural healthcare presentation? We barely spoke."

A shadow of something—vulnerability?—crossed his face before he composed it into his usual calm expression. "Like I said, I notice things. Especially things that matter."

Before she could process his answer, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Y/N with the distinct feeling that there was much more to Jeon Wonwoo than their arrangement had led her to believe.

In her room, she removed the engagement ring, studying it in the morning light. Beautiful, valuable, with history and meaning—yet ultimately a prop in their elaborate performance. As she placed it carefully on her nightstand, Y/N wondered if she was making a terrible mistake.

Three years was indeed a long time to pretend. What if the lines between pretense and reality began to blur? What if this arrangement cost her more than just her freedom?

What if Jeon Wonwoo had ulterior motives she couldn't begin to fathom?

These questions followed her into sleep, where she dreamed of warm eyes behind round glasses and a voice that said, "I notice things. Especially things that matter."

Especially you, the dream voice added, though the real Wonwoo had said no such thing.

Across the hall, in his own room, Wonwoo sat at his desk, adding another entry to his journal:

Day 8 of Our Three Year Plan.

She still doesn't remember me from the conference, but that's alright. I remember enough for both of us. The way she challenged the speaker about resource allocation. The passion in her voice when discussing patient dignity. The fact that she was the only person in a room full of executives who cared more about outcomes than optics.

She wore my grandmother's ring today. It looked right on her hand, just as I knew it would.

Three years is a long time, but I've waited longer than that already. I can be patient for what matters.

And she matters. She always has.

He closed the journal, unaware that across the hall, Y/N was dreaming of him, the first cracks already forming in the wall she'd built between their arrangement and her heart.

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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into you | kim seokjin pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Banner made by: @shadowkoo Pairing: actor! seokjin x journalist! reader Word Count: 2k~ Genre: fluff, more fluff, angst, more angst Rating: PG-15 Possible Warnings/Note: enemies to lovers seokjin is *chef's kiss*

Summary: Kim Seokjin finds himself entangled in a complex web of emotions when he meets the journalist covering his new series, challenging everything he is.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @aretha170 , @jinniegenie , @mooniyooni .@we8joon , @njrwifey, @woncheecks , @bebabido , @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | bts masterlist

The early morning mist clung to the sprawling grounds of the Bridgerton set, lending an ethereal quality to the meticulously recreated Regency-era world. Y/N pulled her jacket tighter around her as she made her way through the bustling crew, her press badge swinging from her neck. The air was charged with a mix of excitement and tension – today marked the beginning of her in-depth coverage of Kim Seokjin's journey into the world of period dramas.

As she approached the main shooting area, Y/N caught sight of Jin. Even from a distance, he cut an impressive figure in his Regency attire – a perfectly tailored coat in deep burgundy, crisp white shirt, and an intricately tied cravat. He was deep in conversation with the director, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened intently. Y/N took a moment to observe him unnoticed, struck by the intensity radiating from him – a far cry from the polished, easygoing charm he usually projected in public appearances.

Suddenly, as if sensing her gaze, Jin looked up. Their eyes met across the busy set, and for a moment, neither moved. A flicker of something – recognition? wariness? – passed over Jin's face before he excused himself from his conversation and made his way over to her, his period-appropriate boots crunching on the gravel path.

"Ms. Y/N," he said, his tone cordial but cool. "Welcome to the 19th century."

"Mr. Kim," she replied, matching his tone. "Thank you for having me."

An awkward silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken tensions and the memory of their last encounter. Y/N couldn't help but recall the scathing article she'd written about his casting, and judging by the guarded look in Jin's eyes, neither had he.

"Well," Jin said finally, breaking the silence. "Shall we begin? I believe you have some questions for me."

Y/N nodded, pulling out her recorder. "Let's start with the basics. How are you finding the transition to period drama? It's quite a departure from your usual roles."

Jin's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. "It's challenging," he admitted, his voice carefully measured. "But in the best way. Every role should push an actor out of their comfort zone, and Lord Christopher Hawthorne is certainly doing that for me."

"And the pressure?" Y/N pressed, watching his reaction closely. "This is a beloved franchise with a dedicated fanbase. Are you feeling the weight of their expectations?"

A flicker of something – annoyance? vulnerability? – crossed Jin's face before his practiced smile reasserted itself. "Of course there's pressure," he said. "But pressure is part of the job. I'm focused on bringing authenticity to the role and honoring the spirit of the show."

As they continued talking, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she was getting rehearsed answers. Jin was polite, even charming at times, but there was a wall between them, a careful distance maintained in every response. It was as if he was reading from a script, giving her exactly what she expected – and nothing more.

Their interview was interrupted by a call for Jin to return to set. As he walked away, Y/N couldn't help but feel frustrated. She was no closer to uncovering the real story than when she'd arrived. Watching Jin slip effortlessly into character, she wondered if she'd ever get to see behind the mask he wore so expertly.

Over the next few days, Y/N immersed herself in the world of Bridgerton. She observed rehearsals, interviewed crew members, and tried to get a sense of the dynamics at play behind the scenes. The attention to detail was staggering – from the manicured gardens to the period-accurate carriages lining the driveway of the stately manor that served as the primary filming location.

But despite her best efforts, Jin remained elusive. He was unfailingly polite during their scheduled interviews, but Y/N could sense the wall he'd built around himself. She caught glimpses of something more – in his interactions with the crew, in his dedication to perfecting even the smallest details of his performance – but whenever she tried to dig deeper, he skillfully deflected her questions.

It was during a break in filming that Y/N stumbled upon something unexpected. She was exploring the massive wardrobe department, marveling at the intricately detailed costumes, when she heard a familiar voice coming from around a corner.

"No, I can't talk about it now," Jin was saying, his voice low and tense. "We agreed to keep this quiet until... Yes, I know it's difficult, but we have to be patient. Trust me, please."

Y/N froze, her journalistic instincts on high alert. Who was Jin talking to? What were they keeping quiet?

Before she could hear more, the conversation ended abruptly. Y/N quickly pretended to be examining a nearby gown as Jin rounded the corner.

He stopped short when he saw her, surprise and something that looked like guilt flashing across his face. "Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Exploring the costumes?"

Y/N nodded, trying to keep her expression innocently curious. "They're incredible," she said. "The attention to detail is amazing."

Jin seemed to relax slightly, though Y/N noticed a lingering tension in his shoulders. "It is, isn't it?" he said, seemingly eager to change the subject. "The costume department has done an outstanding job. Have you seen the embroidery on some of the waistcoats? It's all done by hand."

And just like that, he was leading her on a tour of the wardrobe department, pointing out interesting details and sharing anecdotes about the costumes. Y/N listened attentively, but part of her mind was still puzzling over the conversation she'd overheard. What secret was Jin keeping, and how did it relate to the show?

As the days went by, Y/N found herself settling into a rhythm on set. She was still an outsider, but a familiar one. Crew members began to relax around her, sharing gossip and behind-the-scenes stories. Even some of the actors warmed up to her presence, though Jin remained politely distant.

It was during a particularly long day of filming that Y/N first glimpsed a different side of Jin. They were shooting a complex dance sequence, and take after take was marred by small mistakes – a misstep here, a fumbled line there. As the hours dragged on, tensions began to rise. Y/N could see the frustration building in the set, the dancers growing tired, the director's instructions becoming more clipped.

Y/N watched as Jin took a moment between takes to close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was a renewed determination in his gaze. To her surprise, he gathered the other actors around him, speaking to them in low, encouraging tones. Y/N couldn't hear what he was saying, but she saw the effect it had. The exhaustion seemed to lift from the dancers' faces, replaced by fresh energy and focus.

The next take was perfect, and the relief on set was palpable. As the director called a wrap for the day, Y/N approached Jin, her curiosity piqued by this display of leadership.

"That was impressive," she said. "The way you rallied everyone."

Jin looked at her in surprise, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Oh," he said, a hint of genuine modesty in his voice. "It's nothing. We're all in this together, you know? Sometimes we just need a reminder of that."

For a moment, the careful distance between them seemed to shrink. Y/N saw a flash of the real Jin – not the polished movie star, not the guarded interviewee, but the dedicated professional who cared about his craft and his colleagues.

The moment was broken by the arrival of Kyrie, who threw an arm around Jin's shoulders. "Great work today, partner," she said with a grin. "Ready to run lines for tomorrow?"

Jin nodded, his public persona slipping back into place. "Always," he said. Then, to Y/N, "If you'll excuse us, Ms. Y/N."

As they walked away, Y/N couldn't help but notice the easy camaraderie between them. But she also didn't miss the quick, almost furtive glance Kyrie threw over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the set as if looking for someone. It was a small thing, but it nagged at Y/N's instincts. What was Kyrie looking for? Or who?

The next few weeks brought a whirlwind of activity. Y/N found herself completely immersed in the world of Bridgerton, from early morning costume fittings to late-night editing sessions. She interviewed everyone from the lead actors to the set designers, piecing together a comprehensive picture of what it took to bring this Regency world to life.

But the heart of her story remained elusive. Jin was unfailingly polite in their interactions, but Y/N could sense the wall he'd built around himself. She caught glimpses of the man behind the facade – in his interactions with the crew, in his dedication to perfecting even the smallest details of his performance – but whenever she tried to dig deeper, he skillfully deflected her questions.

It was during a rare quiet moment on set that things began to shift. Y/N was sitting off to the side, reviewing her notes, when Jin approached her. He was still in full costume, his cravat slightly askew from the scene he'd just finished filming.

"Ms. Y/N," he said, an odd hesitancy in his voice. "I was wondering if you might join me for tea?"

Y/N blinked in surprise. This was the first time Jin had sought her out for anything other than a scheduled interview. "Of course," she said, trying to keep the curiosity out of her voice. "Lead the way."

He led her to a small tent set up near the catering area, where a pot of tea and an assortment of pastries were laid out. As they settled into their seats, an awkward silence fell between them.

"I've been thinking," Jin said finally, his fingers toying with the handle of his teacup. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Jin sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Look, I know you have a job to do. And I respect that. But this role... it means a lot to me. More than I think you realize."

"Then help me realize it," Y/N said, leaning forward. "That's why I'm here, Jin. To understand your journey, to tell your story."

For a moment, Jin's carefully constructed facade seemed to waver. "It's not just about diversity or breaking into Western media," he said softly. "This role... it's a challenge unlike anything I've faced before. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I want to do it justice, not just for myself, but for everyone who sees themselves represented in this story."

Y/N felt a shift in the air between them, as if a wall had begun to crumble. "Why haven't you said any of this in our interviews?" she asked.

Jin's laugh was tinged with self-deprecation. "Because it's vulnerable. Because admitting to fear or doubt doesn't fit with the image of a confident leading man. Because..." he trailed off, his gaze distant.

"Because?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Because I was afraid you'd use it against me," he admitted finally, meeting her eyes. "Your article... it hit close to home. Closer than I was comfortable with."

Y/N felt a pang of guilt, mixed with a surge of respect for Jin's honesty. "I'm not here to tear you down, Jin," she said softly. "I'm here to tell the truth. All of it – the struggles and the triumphs."

Something shifted in Jin's expression, a softening around the eyes. "I'm beginning to see that," he said.

As they continued to talk, the formal boundaries between them began to blur. They discovered a shared love of classic literature, debating the merits of Austen versus the Brontës. Jin revealed his secret passion for cooking, while Y/N shared stories of her early days as a fledgling journalist.

By the time they were called back to set, Y/N felt as if she was seeing Jin clearly for the first time. The polished movie star was still there, but now she could see the layers beneath – the dedicated actor, the thoughtful colleague, the man grappling with the weight of expectations.

As the weeks went on, a new dynamic began to develop between them. Their interviews took on a more conversational tone, with Jin opening up about his process, his fears, and his hopes for the role. Y/N found herself looking forward to their talks, enjoying the quick wit and sharp intelligence that Jin had kept hidden behind his public persona.

But even as she grew closer to Jin, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was still more to the story. She noticed the whispered conversations that stopped abruptly when she approached, the meaningful glances exchanged between cast members. And always, at the edge of her awareness, was Kyrie – brilliant on camera, charming off it, but with an air of secrecy that nagged at Y/N's journalistic instincts.

It was during a night shoot, the set illuminated by the soft glow of carefully placed "candles," that things came to a head. Y/N was observing from the sidelines as Jin and Kyrie filmed a pivotal scene – a clandestine meeting between their characters, fraught with unresolved tension.

As the director called "Cut!" and praised their performance, Y/N saw something that made her breath catch. In the split second before they broke character, she saw a look pass between Jin and Kyrie – a look of such raw emotion, such genuine connection, that it couldn't possibly be just acting.

Before she could process what she'd seen, a commotion broke out near the refreshment table. A crew member had knocked over a tray of drinks, sending glass shattering across the floor. In the chaos that ensued, Y/N found herself pushed to the side, stumbling backwards.

Strong arms caught her before she could fall. She looked up to find herself pressed against Jin's chest, his hands steady on her waist. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them – the warmth of his body, the surprising softness in his eyes, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the musty smell of his period costume.

"Are you alright?" Jin asked, his voice low and concerned.

Y/N nodded, suddenly very aware of their proximity. "Yes, I'm... thank you."

Neither of them moved. Y/N could feel the rapid beat of Jin's heart, or was it her own? The air between them seemed charged with an electric tension, a moment balanced on the edge of possibility.

And then, from somewhere nearby, came the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

They sprang apart as if burned, but the damage was done. Y/N caught a glimpse of a crew member hastily shoving a phone into their pocket, and her heart sank. She knew how this would look, what stories this image could spark.

Jin's face had gone pale, his eyes wide with something that looked like panic. "I have to go," he said abruptly, and then he was gone, striding quickly off the set.

Y/N was left standing alone, her mind reeling. What had just happened? And why did Jin look so frightened?

As she made her way back to her temporary office on set, Y/N's thoughts were in turmoil. The almost-moment with Jin, the look she'd seen pass between him and Kyrie, the secrets that seemed to lurk just beneath the surface of this production – it all swirled together in a confusing mess.

She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the hushed conversation coming from around the corner. But the mention of Jin's name made her pause.

"...can't keep this up forever," a voice that sounded like Kyrie's was saying. "Jin's already struggling with the pressure. If this gets out..."

"It won't," another voice replied – was that Jungkook? What was he doing on set? "We just need to hold on a little longer. Once the show premieres and my album drops, we can..."

The voices faded as the speakers moved away, leaving Y/N with more questions than answers. What were they hiding? And how did it connect to the vulnerability she'd seen in Jin, the fear in his eyes when he realized they'd been photographed?

As she sat down at her desk, Y/N's gaze fell on the stack of notes she'd accumulated over the past weeks. Somewhere in there, she knew, was the key to unraveling this mystery. She had come to Bridgerton looking for Jin's story, but she was beginning to realize that what she'd stumbled upon was something much bigger, much more complex.

And as she began to sift through her notes, a new determination settled over her. She would get to the bottom of this, no matter where it led. Because that's what good journalists did – they followed the story Y/N's fingers flew over her keyboard as she transcribed her notes, her mind racing to connect the dots. The conversation she'd overheard between Kyrie and the voice she suspected was Jungkook's played on repeat in her head. What did Jungkook's album have to do with Bridgerton? And what was the secret that had Jin so on edge?

As she worked late into the night, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a troubling question: In pursuing this story, was she risking the fragile connection she'd begun to form with Jin? And if it came down to a choice between the truth and... whatever it was that was growing between them, which would she choose?

The answer, Y/N realized with a sinking feeling, was far from clear. But one thing was certain – the real story of Bridgerton was only just beginning to unfold.

Dawn was breaking by the time Y/N finally called it a night, her eyes burning from staring at her computer screen for hours. As she made her way back to her temporary lodgings near the set, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something crucial.

She had barely closed her eyes when her phone buzzed with a message. It was from Yannie, her editor:

"Big news breaking. Call me ASAP."

Groaning, Y/N dragged herself out of bed and dialed Yannie's number.

"Have you seen it?" Yannie demanded without preamble.

"Seen what?" Y/N asked, stifling a yawn.

"Check your email. Now."

Y/N pulled up her inbox on her phone and felt her heart drop. There, plastered across several entertainment news sites, was a photo of her and Jin from the previous night – the moment when he had caught her, their bodies pressed close, their faces inches apart. The headlines ranged from speculative to outright sensational:

"LOVE ON SET: KIM SEOKJIN'S SECRET ROMANCE?" "BRIDGERTON SCANDAL: STAR CAUGHT IN COMPROMISING POSITION" "FROM FEUD TO FLING: JIN AND JOURNALIST'S SHOCKING AFFAIR"

"Oh, god," Y/N breathed.

"Yeah," Yannie said, her voice a mix of excitement and concern. "This is big, Y/N. Really big. I need you to get ahead of this. Give me the real story. What's going on between you and Jin?"

Y/N's mind raced. How could she explain something she didn't understand herself? "It's not what it looks like," she said weakly. "I stumbled, he caught me. That's all."

"Uh-huh," Yannie said, clearly unconvinced. "Look, I don't care if you're sleeping with him or not. But I need to know if this is going to compromise your ability to write this story objectively."

"Of course not," Y/N said, perhaps too quickly. "I'm a professional, Yannie. You know that."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Okay," Yannie said finally. "I trust you. But be careful, Y/N. This story just got a lot more complicated."

As Y/N hung up, she felt a wave of dread wash over her. How was she going to face Jin after this? And more importantly, how was this going to affect her investigation?

She barely had time to collect her thoughts before her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from an unknown number:

"We need to talk. Meet me at the old boathouse by the lake. Come alone. - J"

Y/N's heart raced. Was this Jin? Or Jungkook? Either way, she knew she had to go. This might be her chance to finally get some answers.

The old boathouse was on the far edge of the estate where they were filming, a dilapidated structure that had been deemed too run-down to use as a set piece. As Y/N approached, she could see a figure standing in the shadows of the doorway.

"Hello?" she called out tentatively.

The figure stepped into the light, and Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't Jin or Jungkook.

It was Kyrie.

"Thanks for coming," Kyrie said, her usual sunny demeanor replaced by a look of grim determination. "We don't have much time, so I'll get straight to the point. You need to drop this investigation."

Y/N blinked, taken aback by Kyrie's directness. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said cautiously.

Kyrie let out a humorless laugh. "Come on, Y/N. We both know you're not just here to write a puff piece about Jin's journey into period dramas. You're digging, and you're getting close to something you really shouldn't be involved in."

"And what's that?" Y/N asked, her journalistic instincts kicking into high gear.

Kyrie shook her head. "I can't tell you. But I can warn you. For your own sake, and for Jin's, let this go. There are things at play here that are bigger than you realize."

"Is Jin in some kind of trouble?" Y/N asked, concern creeping into her voice.

For a moment, Kyrie's tough exterior cracked, and Y/N saw a flash of genuine worry in her eyes. "We all are," she said softly. Then, composing herself, she added, "Just... be careful, okay? And whatever you do, don't trust-"

She was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. Both women turned to see Jin striding towards them, his face a mask of barely contained anger.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, looking between Kyrie and Y/N.

Kyrie recovered first, plastering on a bright smile. "Oh, Jin! Y/N and I were just discussing some ideas for a scene. Right, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded mutely, her mind reeling from the sudden shift in Kyrie's demeanor.

Jin's eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. "Kyrie, can I have a moment alone with Ms. Y/N?"

Kyrie hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Of course. I'll see you both on set." As she passed Y/N, she gave her a look that clearly said, "Remember what I said."

Once Kyrie was out of earshot, Jin turned to Y/N, his expression unreadable. "I suppose you've seen the photos," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

Y/N nodded, feeling a blush creep up her neck. "Jin, I'm so sorry. I never meant for-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "It's not your fault. These things happen in our industry. But..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "This complicates things."

"Complicates what?" Y/N asked, seizing the opportunity to push for answers. "Jin, what's really going on here? I know there's more to this story than you're telling me."

For a moment, Jin looked like he might actually open up. But then the walls came back up, his expression shuttering. "There's nothing going on," he said firmly. "And I think it's best if we keep our interactions strictly professional from now on. For both our sakes."

Y/N felt a pang of hurt at his words, but she pushed it aside. "Jin, please. If you're in some kind of trouble, I want to help."

Something flickered in Jin's eyes – gratitude? regret? – before it was quickly masked. "The only trouble here is the media frenzy these photos are going to cause. Let's just focus on getting through that, alright?"

Before Y/N could press further, Jin's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and frowned. "I have to go. We'll talk more later."

As he walked away, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she had just missed something crucial. The pieces were there – Kyrie's warning, Jin's evasiveness, the overheard conversation about Jungkook's album – but she couldn't quite see how they fit together.

One thing was clear, though. Despite Jin's words about keeping things professional, the tension between them had shifted. There was an undercurrent of... something. Something that made Y/N's heart race and her palms sweat.

As she made her way back to the main set, her mind was a whirlwind of questions and conflicting emotions. She had come to Bridgerton to uncover Jin's story, but now she found herself entangled in a web of secrets, lies, and unspoken feelings.

The real challenge, Y/N realized, wasn't just uncovering the truth. It was figuring out what to do with it once she found it. And as she watched Jin across the set, deep in conversation with the director, she wondered if she was prepared for the consequences of what she might discover.

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

Text

The Chase pt. 2 | bts

author: @bratzkoo pairings: jimin x reader, taehyung x reader genre: fluff, angst rating: PG-15 words: 5.1k~ warnings: taehyung and jimin jumping ropes between red and green flag. jungkook in general. summary: with the question of “who will you pick, the one you love or the one who loves you?” you navigate adulthood while chasing and being chased. you love taehyung and jimin loves you. taglist: - masterlist

Three weeks after the exhibition, Y/N's photographs remained on display at Harbor Gallery—now with small red "SOLD" stickers beside two of them. The validation was sweet, but the real triumph was the small studio space above Yoongi's music shop that she'd secured with her first sales.

Today, she stood in the center of the empty room, watching dust particles dance in the light streaming through the large windows. The hardwood floors needed refinishing and the walls desperately needed paint, but the natural light was perfect. This was hers—the first real space that belonged entirely to her vision.

"So? What's the verdict?" Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, his characteristic calm a contrast to her barely contained excitement.

"It's perfect," Y/N said, turning a slow circle. "The northern exposure is exactly what I need."

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. "Figured you'd appreciate that. Taehyung said you always talked about ideal studio lighting back in school."

Y/N blinked, surprised. "He remembered that?"

"Tae remembers everything. He just doesn't always show it." Yoongi handed her the keys. "Rent's due first of the month. I'll send someone to fix that leak in the corner before you move your equipment in."

As Yoongi headed back downstairs, Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from Taehyung: Studio hunting successful?

She smiled, typing back: Perfect light. Perfect space. When are you free to see it?

The response came quickly: Tonight? Finishing at the studio late. 9PM?

Y/N hesitated. Such a late meeting felt different—more intimate somehow. Sure. I'll bring celebratory drinks.

---

By 8:45 that evening, Y/N had swept the floors, wiped down the windows, and set up a makeshift seating area with cushions borrowed from Jimin's apartment. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on a wooden crate that would eventually become part of a storage system. She'd changed outfits twice before settling on simple jeans and a soft blue sweater—casual but flattering.

She was fussing with the arrangement of cushions when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Y/N?" Taehyung's voice called.

"Come in!" She straightened up, suddenly nervous.

Taehyung appeared in the doorway, holding a small potted plant with delicate white flowers. "Studio-warming gift," he explained, setting it on the windowsill. "Snake plant. Impossible to kill, even for people who forget to water things when they're in creative mode."

The thoughtfulness of the gesture caught her off guard. "You know me too well."

"I used to." He looked around the space, then back at her. "I'm hoping to again."

Something in his direct gaze made her stomach flip. Y/N turned to open the wine, giving herself a moment to compose her thoughts. "How was the studio session?"

"Productive. Finally got the bridge right on that piece I played for you." He wandered around the room, running his hand along the wall. "This space has good energy. You can feel its potential."

Y/N handed him a glass of wine. "That's exactly what I thought. It needs work, but..."

"It's like a blank canvas," he finished. "Ready for your imprint."

They clinked glasses and sipped in comfortable silence. Taehyung moved to the windows, looking out at the town's twinkling lights below.

"I missed this view," he said quietly. "In Seoul, everything was so high up and distant. Here, you can see real life happening."

Y/N joined him at the window. "You could have stayed there, though. Made a career in the city."

He turned to her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Some things were worth coming back for."

The air between them seemed to thicken. Y/N was acutely aware of how close they were standing, how easy it would be to lean forward just slightly.

Taehyung's phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced at it and sighed. "Producer wants revisions by morning."

"You should go," she said, disappointed but understanding.

"I should," he agreed, not moving. Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "But I don't want to."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Tae..."

The sound of his name seemed to decide something for him. He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, before pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened as Y/N responded. His hands cupped her face, and hers found their way to his waist, pulling him closer.

When they finally separated, both slightly breathless, Taehyung rested his forehead against hers. "I've been wanting to do that since you came back," he admitted.

"Me too," she whispered.

His phone buzzed again, insistent. Taehyung closed his eyes in frustration before reluctantly pulling away. "I really do have to go. Deadline."

Y/N nodded, still dizzy from the kiss. "I understand."

He gathered his jacket, pausing at the door. "Dinner tomorrow? My place? No work interruptions this time."

"I'd like that," she said, smiling.

After he left, Y/N sat by the window for a long time, touching her lips and watching the town below, her mind replaying the kiss while her heart raced with possibilities.

---

"You're distracted today," Jimin observed the next morning as they shared breakfast at the café. "Something happen with the studio?"

Y/N stirred her coffee, debating how much to share. "Taehyung came by to see it last night."

"Ah." Jimin's expression remained carefully neutral. "And?"

"And... we kissed." The words came out in a rush.

Jimin's spoon paused halfway to his mouth, then continued as if nothing had happened. "I see." He took a deliberate bite of oatmeal. "Are you... happy about that?"

The question was so fundamentally Jimin—concerned with her feelings before anything else—that Y/N felt a surge of affection for him. "I think so. I mean, yes. It's what I wanted."

Jimin nodded slowly. "Then I'm happy for you." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Jimin..." Y/N started, unsure what she wanted to say.

"It's okay," he interrupted gently. "Really. You and Tae... there's always been something there. Everyone knows that."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Y/N searched for words to bridge the gap she could feel forming. "You're still my best friend. That doesn't change."

"Of course not." Jimin looked up with a more genuine smile this time. "Nothing changes that." He glanced at his watch. "I should get to work. Big event planning meeting."

As he stood to leave, Y/N caught his hand. "Are we okay?"

Jimin squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "Always. Just... be careful with your heart, Y/N. Taehyung lives in the moment. It's what makes him brilliant, but..."

"But also what makes him Taehyung," she finished quietly.

Jimin nodded. "Exactly." He released her hand. "Call if you need anything. Anytime."

Y/N watched him walk away, feeling a complex tangle of emotions—happiness about Taehyung warring with concern about shifting dynamics with Jimin. For the first time, she wondered if returning home had been simpler in theory than practice.

---

The following weeks unfolded in a whirlwind of activity. Y/N's days were filled with setting up her studio space, meeting with potential clients, and developing a new photography series inspired by her homecoming. Her evenings increasingly belonged to Taehyung—cooking dinner at his apartment, listening to his latest compositions, losing track of time in conversations that flowed effortlessly until the early hours.

Being with Taehyung was intoxicating—his passion for creation matched her own, his perspective challenged her thinking, and their physical chemistry was undeniable. Yet there remained something ephemeral about their connection, as if she was trying to capture smoke between her fingers.

Some nights he would disappear into his creative process, unreachable by text or call, only to emerge days later with brilliant work and no acknowledgment of his absence. Y/N found herself making excuses for these disappearances—that's just how artists work, she told herself. That's the price of loving someone with a mind like his.

Loving. The word had slipped into her thoughts before she could examine it properly.

Meanwhile, her friendship with Jimin had acquired a careful quality—both of them navigating new boundaries. He remained constant in his support, helping her hang shelves in the studio, connecting her with his extensive network of contacts, always answering her calls no matter the hour. But something had shifted—a guardedness in his smile, a careful distance he maintained even in their closest moments.

When the invitation came for the regional photography competition, it was Jimin who brought her the information, neatly printed and paperclipped to relevant submission deadlines.

"You should enter," he said, setting the papers on her desk as she edited client photos. "The exposure would be good for building your local portfolio."

Y/N scrolled through the details. "The theme is 'Perspective Shifts.' That's... actually perfect for the series I'm working on."

"I thought so too." Jimin leaned against her desk, careful not to disturb her organized chaos. "The judging panel includes some important regional names. Plus, the winner gets featured in East Coast Arts Monthly."

Y/N looked up at him, touched by his continued investment in her career. "Have you told Taehyung about this?"

A shadow crossed Jimin's face. "I haven't seen him this week. He's been in Seoul, hasn't he?"

Y/N tried to mask her surprise. "Seoul? He told me he was on a studio lockdown for a deadline."

An awkward silence fell between them. Jimin shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I got it wrong. Yoongi mentioned something about a meeting with producers, I assumed..."

"No, it's fine," Y/N said quickly, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "We don't check in daily or anything."

Jimin studied her for a moment before speaking again. "Y/N—"

"I should get these competition entries started," she interrupted, not ready for whatever he was about to say. "Thank you for bringing this. Really."

Understanding flashed in Jimin's eyes. "Of course." He pushed off from the desk. "I'll let you work. Dinner tomorrow? The new Thai place opened."

Y/N smiled gratefully. "That sounds perfect."

After he left, she stared at the competition details without really seeing them, unsettled by the realization that Taehyung hadn't been entirely truthful about his whereabouts. It wasn't that they'd made explicit commitments to each other, but the casual omission felt significant.

Her phone chimed with a text from Taehyung: Back tomorrow. Miss you. Your place or mine?

She hesitated before responding: Mine. 7PM.

---

When Taehyung arrived the next evening, he carried takeout from her favorite restaurant and a small bag that turned out to contain a vintage camera lens he'd found at a Seoul flea market. The thoughtful gesture momentarily pushed aside her questions.

"This is incredible," she said, examining the lens. "How did you know I've been looking for this model?"

He smiled, pleased with himself. "You mentioned it that night we looked through your photography books. Said it created a particular quality of soft focus you couldn't replicate digitally."

The fact that he remembered such a specific detail from a casual conversation made her resolve waver. As they ate dinner, Taehyung enthusiastically described the producers he'd met with and the potential collaboration that could elevate his music to national recognition.

"So you were in Seoul," Y/N said finally, keeping her tone neutral.

Taehyung paused mid-sentence. "Yes. Didn't I tell you?"

"You said you were in studio lockdown."

"I was—their studio in Seoul." He frowned slightly. "Is something wrong?"

Y/N set down her fork. "Why not just say you were going to Seoul?"

Taehyung's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "I didn't think it mattered. The point was I'd be unavailable, working intensely." He reached across the table for her hand. "I wasn't trying to hide anything, Y/N."

She wanted to believe him. It would be so easy to let it go, to accept his explanation and move forward. But something nagged at her—a sense that this small miscommunication represented something larger.

"I worry sometimes," she admitted, "that we're not fully present in each other's lives. That we're still operating as these independent entities who occasionally intersect, rather than..."

"Rather than what?" Taehyung asked softly.

Y/N met his gaze. "Rather than partners."

Taehyung was quiet for a long moment. "I've never been good at the conventional relationship things," he finally said. "Checking in, reporting my whereabouts. My mind doesn't work that way."

"I'm not asking for conventional," Y/N countered. "Just... consideration. Inclusion in your decisions when they affect us."

"Are we an 'us'?" His question wasn't challenging but genuinely curious.

The question hung between them, forcing Y/N to confront what she actually wanted. "I'd like to be," she said finally. "But only if you want that too."

Taehyung's eyes softened. He stood, pulling her up from her chair and into his arms. "I want you in my life, Y/N. However that looks." He kissed her forehead. "I'm not good at this, but I'll try. For you, I'll try."

She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and trying to quiet the small voice that wondered if trying would be enough.

---

The photography competition submission deadline approached rapidly. Y/N threw herself into preparing her entry—a series titled "Return," exploring the familiar-turned-strange quality of viewing childhood places through adult eyes. The work was her most personal yet, revealing vulnerabilities she usually kept hidden behind technical precision.

The night before the submission deadline, her phone rang near midnight. Taehyung's name flashed on the screen.

"Are you still working?" he asked without preamble when she answered.

"Just finishing the artist statement," Y/N said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"I'm outside your studio. Let me in?"

Surprised, Y/N went to the window and saw Taehyung standing on the sidewalk below, phone to his ear. She buzzed him in, and minutes later he appeared with coffee and a small bag from the bakery that had closed hours ago.

"How did you get these?" she asked, accepting the still-warm pastry gratefully.

"Namjoon's cousin owns the place. Called in a favor." Taehyung settled on the floor beside her desk, looking over the prints laid out for her final selection. "These are extraordinary, Y/N."

She sank down next to him, suddenly aware of how exhausted she was. "You think so? I've been staring at them so long I can't tell anymore."

"I know so." He pointed to a particular image—a playground shot through raindrops on a window, creating a dreamlike distortion. "This one especially. It captures something... nostalgic but uncomfortable. Like childhood memories that don't quite match reality."

Y/N leaned against him, touched by his understanding of what she'd been trying to convey. "That's exactly what I was going for."

Taehyung wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You're going to win, you know."

"There will be hundreds of entries from professionals with years more experience."

"Doesn't matter. Your perspective is unique." He kissed the top of her head. "Now, what can I do to help you finish?"

For the next two hours, Taehyung helped her organize the final submission—reading drafts of her artist statement, giving thoughtful feedback, handling the tedious technical requirements of the digital upload. When everything was finally submitted at 2:30 AM, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, curling into him on the small studio couch. "I didn't expect you to show up tonight."

"You mentioned yesterday that the deadline was stressing you out," he replied simply. "I wanted to help."

In that moment, all her doubts seemed ridiculous. This was Taehyung—inconsistent in small ways perhaps, but present when it truly mattered. She fell asleep against his chest, more content than she'd been in weeks.

---

The competition results wouldn't be announced for another month, but life didn't pause in the meantime. Y/N's client list grew as word spread about her work, and she found herself busy with everything from engagement shoots to commercial product photography for local businesses.

Taehyung received the news he'd been hoping for—the Seoul producers wanted to sign him for a project that could launch his music nationally. The opportunity would require extended time in Seoul, starting with a three-week trip to negotiate terms and begin initial recording.

"Come with me," he suggested as they discussed the logistics in her studio one evening. "You could photograph the city. Make connections there."

The invitation was tempting—three uninterrupted weeks with Taehyung, exploring a new city together. But Y/N had just established her studio, had commitments to local clients.

"I can't right now," she said regretfully. "But maybe I could visit for a weekend? Once you're settled?"

Taehyung nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. "Of course. That makes sense."

The night before his departure, they stayed up until dawn, talking about everything and nothing, making plans for video calls and his return visit. When Y/N drove him to the train station, their goodbye kiss held the bittersweet quality of a milestone—their first real separation since reconnecting.

"Three weeks," Taehyung said, forehead pressed against hers. "It'll fly by."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As she watched his train pull away, a complicated mix of emotions settled in her chest—pride in his success, sadness at his absence, and a tiny, unwelcome thread of relief at having some space to think clearly about their whirlwind reconnection.

---

The first week of Taehyung's absence passed in a productive blur. Y/N channeled her emotional energy into work, extending her studio hours and taking on additional clients. Their nightly video calls maintained their connection, though the time difference and Taehyung's busy schedule sometimes reduced these to brief check-ins rather than the deep conversations she craved.

On Friday evening, exhausted from a day of shooting, Y/N was closing her studio when she noticed water seeping under the door. Following the trail, she discovered a burst pipe in the small bathroom, water rapidly pooling on the hardwood floors perilously close to her equipment.

Panic rising, she called Yoongi, who didn't answer, then the building's emergency number, which went to voicemail. Without thinking, she called Jimin.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said immediately upon hearing the situation. "Try to move your equipment to higher ground. I'll bring supplies."

True to his word, Jimin arrived quickly, armed with towels, a shop vacuum, and basic plumbing tools. Together they worked to contain the damage—Jimin shutting off the water main while Y/N moved her valuable equipment to safety.

An hour later, the emergency had been mitigated. The pipe was temporarily patched, the water cleaned up, and fans positioned to dry the floors. Y/N collapsed onto her couch, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion.

"Thank you," she said fervently. "I would have been lost without you."

Jimin shrugged, wiping his hands on a towel. "That's what friends are for."

"Friends don't usually know basic plumbing repair," Y/N pointed out.

"YouTube tutorial from when my apartment flooded last year," he admitted with a grin. "Never thought I'd actually use that knowledge."

Y/N laughed, then noticed a cut on his hand. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing," Jimin dismissed, but allowed her to examine it.

"Let me clean this at least," she insisted, retrieving her first aid kit.

As she tended to his cut, a comfortable silence fell between them—the easy companionship they'd always shared, untainted by the recent complications. Y/N realized how much she'd missed this uncomplicated connection.

"Have you heard from Taehyung?" Jimin asked, breaking the silence.

"Brief calls. He's really busy with the producers." Y/N secured a bandage around his hand. "It's a big opportunity."

Jimin nodded. "He's always been meant for bigger stages."

Something in his tone made Y/N look up. "What do you mean?"

Jimin seemed to choose his words carefully. "Taehyung's talent deserves recognition. But his life has always been about pursuing the next opportunity, the next creative high." He met her eyes. "I've just worried what that means for people who want consistency from him."

Y/N felt a defensive response rise in her throat, then subside as she recognized the truth in Jimin's words. "He's trying," she said quietly.

"I know he is." Jimin's expression was gentle. "And I know you love him. I just..." He hesitated. "I want you to be loved the way you deserve."

The weight of unspoken feelings hung in the air between them. Y/N suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"Jimin—"

"Don't," he interrupted softly. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my place."

But something had shifted in the room—a door opened that couldn't be closed again. Y/N found herself moving closer to him, drawn by the certainty of his presence, the steadiness he'd always represented in her life.

"It is your place," she whispered. "You've always had a place in my life, Jimin."

His eyes searched hers, vulnerable and hopeful in a way that made her heart ache. Slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, Jimin leaned forward until his lips met hers in a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes.

Unlike the passionate whirlwind of her kisses with Taehyung, this was gentle, unhurried—a conversation rather than a declaration. Y/N found herself responding, her hand coming up to cup his cheek.

When they finally separated, Jimin pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, voice barely audible.

Reality crashed back, bringing with it a wave of guilt. Y/N pulled away slightly. "Jimin, I'm with Taehyung."

Pain flashed across his features before he nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No," Y/N interrupted. "I'm the one who should be sorry. This isn't fair to you. Or to him."

Jimin stood, creating space between them. "You should call him," he said quietly. "Talk to him."

The practical suggestion, so characteristic of Jimin—putting her needs first even when it hurt him—made Y/N's chest tighten with conflicted emotion.

"I need to figure out what I want," she said honestly.

"I think you already know," Jimin replied with a sad smile. "You've always known." He gathered his tools. "I'll check on the pipe tomorrow. Make sure it's holding."

After he left, Y/N sat in her quiet studio, mind reeling. Her phone showed a missed call from Taehyung and a text: Can't talk tonight. Big breakthrough with the producers. Call tomorrow? Miss you.

She stared at the message, feeling further from certainty than ever before.

---

The regional photography competition judging day arrived amid this emotional turbulence. Y/N had almost forgotten about it until Jimin texted that morning: Good luck today. Your work deserves recognition.

No mention of the kiss, no pressure—just support, as always. Y/N hadn't seen him since that night, both of them creating distance to think. She hadn't told Taehyung about the kiss either, unsure how to navigate the confession over video calls and text messages.

The competition was held at the central library's exhibition hall. Y/N arrived early, nervously checking her appearance before entering the crowded space. Photographs from all entrants lined the walls, grouped by theme interpretation. She found her series displayed prominently in a well-lit corner, which she took as a positive sign.

As she examined the other entries, Y/N was struck by the quality of the competition—powerful images telling compelling stories. Her confidence wavered slightly as she realized how many talented photographers had entered.

"Intimidating, isn't it?" said a familiar voice behind her.

Y/N turned to find Jungkook, the photographer from the Harbor Gallery, examining a dramatic landscape series.

"The talent level is higher than I expected," she admitted.

Jungkook nodded. "Regional competitions often are. The truly ambitious ones skipped straight to national contests, leaving space for thoughtful work rather than technical showboating."

Y/N studied him curiously. She'd seen his byline on the gallery article—a thoughtful piece that had given her work more consideration than she'd expected—but hadn't crossed paths with him since.

"Do you enter these competitions?" she asked.

"Sometimes." He gestured to a striking series of industrial landscapes on the adjacent wall. "When I have something worth saying."

Before Y/N could respond, an announcement called for all entrants to gather for the judges' introduction. She excused herself, joining the nervous crowd of photographers.

The head judge, a renowned photojournalist named Park Seojoon, spoke briefly about the competition's purpose before introducing the judging panel. Y/N's attention sharpened when he mentioned the final judge—a last-minute addition to the panel.

"And finally, we're grateful to have Jeon Jungkook joining us, representing East Coast Arts Monthly and bringing his unique perspective on visual narrative."

Y/N turned in surprise to see Jungkook taking his place at the judges' table. He caught her eye briefly, his expression professional and unreadable.

The judging process would take several hours, with results announced that afternoon. Photographers were encouraged to stay and network, or return later for the announcement.

Y/N decided to remain, using the opportunity to study the competing work and connect with other local artists. Throughout the day, she occasionally noticed Jungkook with the other judges, moving methodically through the exhibition, engaged in serious discussion about various pieces. His demeanor was focused and analytical—clearly taking the responsibility seriously.

By late afternoon, the judges had made their decisions. Park Seojoon took the microphone again, thanking everyone for their patience.

"Photography is subjective," he began. "What moves one person may leave another cold. What we look for is work that challenges perspective, that makes the viewer see differently."

He announced the honorable mentions first, then third place, then second. Y/N's name hadn't been called, and she felt a complicated mix of disappointment and relief. At least she could leave without the awkwardness of accepting an award from a panel that included someone she barely knew.

"And our first place winner," Park Seojoon continued, "for a series that eloquently captures the dissonance between memory and reality, the winner of the Perspective Shift Photography Competition is Y/N, for the series 'Return.'"

The room erupted in applause. Y/N stood frozen in shock before making her way to the front. Park Seojoon handed her an elegant crystal award and an envelope containing details about her feature in East Coast Arts Monthly.

"The judges were particularly moved by your ability to create images that feel simultaneously familiar and unsettling," he explained. "Your work invites viewers to reconsider their relationship with nostalgia."

As Y/N shook hands with each judge, Jungkook's grip was firm and professional. "Congratulations," he said simply, no hint of their earlier conversation in his formal tone.

After the ceremony, as photographers and attendees mingled over refreshments, Y/N found herself approached by various gallery owners and potential clients. The win had immediately raised her profile in the regional arts community.

She was speaking with an arts council representative when her phone vibrated with a call from Taehyung. With a pang of guilt, she realized she hadn't told him about the competition today.

"Excuse me," she said to the representative. "I need to take this."

Finding a quiet corner, she answered, "Taehyung, hi."

"Y/N!" His voice was excited. "I've got incredible news. The producers want to extend the project. They're offering a six-month contract with potential for a permanent position afterward."

"Six months?" Y/N echoed, struggling to process the implications.

"It's what I've been working toward for years," Taehyung continued. "National distribution, creative control, resources to bring my music to life properly."

"That's... amazing, Tae. Congratulations." The words felt hollow in her mouth.

"There's more," he said, either not noticing or ignoring her hesitation. "They have connections with major photography publications here. I mentioned your work, and they're interested. This could be huge for both of us."

The offer hung between them—unspoken but clear. Come to Seoul. Choose this path. Choose me.

"I won a photography competition today," Y/N said abruptly. "Regional one. My work's going to be featured in East Coast Arts Monthly."

"What? Y/N, that's incredible!" Taehyung's genuine enthusiasm made her chest tight. "Why didn't you tell me it was today?"

"You've been busy," she said simply. "And I wasn't sure I'd win."

"But you did," Taehyung said proudly. "I knew you would. We should celebrate when I'm back next week."

"About that..." Y/N took a deep breath. "I think we need to talk, Tae. About us. About the future."

A pause, then his voice, more subdued: "Because of the Seoul opportunity?"

"Because of a lot of things."

Another silence stretched between them. "I understand," Taehyung finally said. "We'll talk when I'm back. Properly."

After they disconnected, Y/N stood motionless, staring at her phone. The competition win, which should have been a moment of pure triumph, now felt complicated by the looming conversation with Taehyung and her unresolved feelings for Jimin.

As she prepared to leave, she noticed Jungkook gathering his belongings at the judges' table.

"Congratulations again," he said as she approached. "Your series was the clear winner."

"Thank you," Y/N replied. "I was surprised to see you on the judging panel."

"Last-minute replacement." He shrugged. "Someone from the magazine had to be here, and I know the local scene."

Y/N nodded, suddenly curious. "Can I ask—what made my series stand out to you, specifically?"

Jungkook considered the question seriously. "Most photographers trying to capture nostalgia focus on making things look better than they were—golden light, soft focus, idealized compositions." He met her gaze directly. "You did the opposite. You showed the discomfort of return—how nothing quite fits anymore, how memory distorts, how growth changes perspective."

The insight struck Y/N deeply. He had articulated something she'd felt but hadn't fully formulated herself.

"Thank you," she said again, with more meaning. "That's... perceptive."

Jungkook gave a small nod. "Someone from the magazine will be in touch about the feature." He hesitated, then added, "If you have questions about the national photography scene, feel free to reach out. I work with publications beyond the regional level."

With that, he excused himself, leaving Y/N with his business card and the strange feeling that the day had shifted something fundamental in her path forward.

Later that evening, alone in her apartment with her award on the coffee table, Y/N's phone lit up with a text from Jimin: Heard about your win from Hoseok. So proud of you. Always knew your vision was special.

She traced her fingers over the words, heart aching with the complexity of her feelings. On her laptop screen, open flight searches to Seoul waited for a decision. The crystal award caught the last light of day, fracturing it into patterns across her walls—beautiful but impossible to hold onto.

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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"I didn't comment on a fic I liked because I don't think the author would care or remember my comment anyway". fanfic writer here, I still remember comments I got on my fics from seven years ago. I still think about them and they still make me smile. your kind comments are what motivates us and what helps us keep writing.

I personally know writers who take screenshot and print out comments they got from their readers.

TL;DR comments matter to us writers more than you think. if you like a fanfic, never be shy to let the author know ♡

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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Fanfiction writers be like:

"here's the immensely time consuming 100K word novel-length passion project I'm working on between my real life job and family! It eats up hundreds of hours of my one and only life, causes me emotional harm, and I gain basically nothing from it! Also I put it on the internet for free so anyone can read if they want. Hope you love it!" :)

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

Text

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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me fr

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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i'M TRYING hERE, oKAY?

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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Welcome to New World Net!

Greetings, we are a multifandom kpop writing network. Thank for you choosing us for your writing journey, we hope to see you with us! With boy groups and girl groups alike, we welcome each and every piece of work you create. With an 18+ environment, let your thoughts run free here.

Rules

Authors

Affiliates

Applications (Open)

PLEASE REBLOG THIS POST IF YOU ARE GOING TO APPLY!

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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Author nim are you going to continue writing "Into You" again too ? 🥹

yes, 2nd part is now queued. see you when it’s posted!

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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🫶🏻 thank you, everyone. i hope you enjoyed this series.

We got married | dk masterlist [COMPLETE]

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13

Note: this fic is 4 years in the making and i just managed to have it done 😃🤚🏻 once all is posted, see y’all in another 2 years idk hahaha

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and you pair up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

pre-production

episode 1

episode 2

episode 3

episode 4

episode 5

episode 6

episode 7

episode 8

episode 9

last episode.

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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WGM final episode | dk

final episode

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 3.4k~ Warnings/note: thank you so much for reading until the end! till the next fic 🫶🏻 also anyone who wants me to continue the wgm series with other members, comment or message me! Many thanks xx

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118 , @btskzfav , @codeinebelle , @syluslittlecrows , @minghaofied , @ikbennatas , @armycarat2612 , @smiileflower

requests are close, but you can just say hi! | masterlist series masterlist | previous episode

[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 9, focusing on their coastal trip, deep conversations, and culminating with their rain-soaked kiss on the boat]

Narrator: "After their emotional farewell trip, our couple returns to where it all began for their final episode of We Got Married!"

---

The baseball stadium was empty.

Seokmin stared through the van window, his mind struggling to process the sight of the massive venue standing completely vacant. The last time they'd been here, thousands of fans had filled these seats, the energy electric, the noise deafening. Now there was only silence, broken occasionally by the distant sounds of the production crew setting up equipment.

Is this a metaphor? Is the universe trying to tell me something about emptiness and endings? Or am I just overthinking again? Definitely overthinking. Focus, Seokmin!

"They rented the entire stadium?" Y/N asked beside him, her voice pulling him from his spiral of thoughts.

"Apparently," Seokmin replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies performing an entire choreographed routine in his stomach. "The PD must have connections. Or blackmail material. Possibly both."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his heart rate even after all these months. He wondered if that would ever change—if he'd ever get used to the effect she had on him. He hoped not.

The past few days since their rain-soaked confession had been simultaneously the best and most torturous of his life. Best because every text from Y/N now carried the weight of acknowledged feelings, every "goodnight" imbued with new meaning. Torturous because their schedules had immediately pulled them apart—him to SEVENTEEN's comeback preparations, her to fittings for an upcoming drama—leaving them with only digital communication and one brief, electrifying phone call that had left him staring at his ceiling for hours afterward, grinning like an idiot.

And now, here they were, about to film their final episode in the place where their journey had begun. The symmetry made his poet's heart ache, even as his pragmatic brain reminded him that this was just television—the real story was just beginning.

As they exited the van, the PD approached with his clipboard and that slightly manic gleam in his eye that Seokmin had come to recognize as his "big episode energy."

"Welcome to your final mission," he announced, handing them each an envelope. "Today, you'll walk the bases, counter-clockwise. At each base, you'll share memories from your time on the show. When you reach home plate, you'll exchange farewell letters you've written to each other."

Farewell letters. Seokmin felt his ears heating up at the mere mention. He'd spent five hours writing his letter last night, producing seventeen drafts (the members had found this hilariously on-brand) before settling on a version that seemed to strike the right balance between television-appropriate and genuinely heartfelt. The crumpled evidence of his efforts currently filled his trash can back at the dorm.

"After the letters," the PD continued, "we'll film the official farewell ceremony where you'll return your rings and officially conclude your time on 'We Got Married.'"

Return the rings. End the show. Go back to their real lives. Seokmin nodded mechanically, aware of the cameras already tracking their reactions. He caught Y/N's eye, finding in her gaze the same mix of emotions he was feeling—the understanding that this was necessary television closure, even as they both knew their personal story was just opening its first chapter.

"Ready?" the PD asked, gesturing toward the players' entrance.

No. Not even close. How is anyone ever ready to publicly end something that privately just began? This is too weird. Too meta. Too—

"As we'll ever be," Seokmin heard himself reply, somehow managing to sound normal despite the chaos in his head.

They entered the stadium through the tunnel, emerging onto the green expanse of the field. The emptiness of the venue created an almost dreamlike atmosphere, their footsteps echoing slightly as they walked toward the baseball diamond where a white carpet had been laid along the baseline.

"This is surreal," Y/N murmured, taking in the abandoned stands.

"Like we're the last two people on Earth," Seokmin agreed, his imagination immediately constructing an entire post-apocalyptic scenario where only baseball stadiums remained intact. "We could rename the show: 'We Got Married: End of Days Edition.'"

Y/N laughed, the sound bouncing off the vacant seats. "I'd watch that."

"I'd star in it," Seokmin replied, grinning at her. "As long as you were my co-lead."

Co-lead. Partner. Girlfriend? Were they at that stage yet? What exactly were they? The rain-soaked kiss had established mutual feelings, but they hadn't exactly had time to define the relationship. Was it too soon? Too presumptuous? WHY IS DATING SO COMPLICATED?

"Shall we?" he asked, pushing aside his internal panic to gesture toward first base with what he hoped was a gallant bow rather than the awkward hunch his nerves were trying to produce.

"Lead the way," Y/N replied, falling into step beside him.

---

FIRST BASE

They stood awkwardly on the white square that marked first base, both suddenly hyperaware of the cameras positioned around them, the boom mic hovering just out of frame, the expectant gaze of the PD waiting for television-worthy reflections.

Just be natural. Which is literally impossible when someone tells you to be natural. How does anyone act natural on command? What even is natural behavior? And why am I overthinking AGAIN?

"This reminds me of our first meeting," Seokmin finally said, breaking the silence before his brain could spiral further. "When I could barely string two words together without internally combusting."

"You winked at me," Y/N recalled with a laugh. "I still can't believe you winked."

"It was a nervous reflex!" Seokmin protested, feeling his ears immediately betraying him by turning red at the memory. "My brain went completely offline and my face just... did whatever it wanted."

"You know," Y/N said, her voice softening, "I was so terrified that day. I kept thinking I'd been paired with THE Lee Seokmin and I was going to embarrass myself in front of millions of viewers."

"And I was thinking the exact same about being paired with THE Y/N Y/L/N," Seokmin countered. "I nearly passed out in the bathroom before filming started."

"You did not!"

"Ask Jeonghan-hyung. He had to talk me down from a full panic attack."

They smiled at each other, both remembering those two nervous strangers who had no idea what they were starting.

"We've come a long way since then," Y/N observed, her eyes saying much more than her words.

"A very long way," Seokmin agreed, fighting the urge to reach for her hand. They'd decided to keep the more overtly romantic gestures minimal during this final episode, letting the viewers wonder rather than confirming everything on camera. Some things, they'd agreed, they wanted just for themselves.

Though that resolution was being severely tested by how pretty Y/N looked in the soft stadium lighting, her hair catching the sunshine in a way that made his poet's heart want to compose extremely embarrassing sonnets.

"Ready for second?" he asked, reeling his thoughts back in before they could show on his face.

She nodded, and they moved on.

---

SECOND BASE

"The cooking disaster," they said in perfect unison as they reached second base, then laughed at their synchronized response.

"I've never seen anyone burn water before," Y/N teased.

"I was trying to impress you!" Seokmin defended himself, the memory still making him cringe. "Which, clearly, backfired spectacularly. Literally, in the case of that dish towel."

"But then you ordered my favorite takeout without me even telling you what it was."

"I may have asked Saemi beforehand," Seokmin admitted, feeling oddly shy about the confession.

Y/N's eyes widened. "You planned to mess up the cooking?"

"No! That was genuine, unplanned incompetence," Seokmin laughed. "But I had a backup plan. I'm not completely hopeless."

"You always do, don't you?" Y/N said, something warm in her expression. "Have a backup plan?"

"I try," Seokmin replied, suddenly serious despite himself. "Especially for things that matter."

Like us, he didn't say, but he could see in her eyes that she understood. He'd been making plans—tentative, careful, hopeful plans—for how they might navigate a relationship amid their chaotic schedules and public scrutiny. Backup plans upon backup plans, because this mattered more than anything had in a long time.

---

THIRD BASE

At third base, Y/N spoke first.

"The wedding," she said quietly. "When you sang instead of saying your vows."

"Was that too cheesy?" Seokmin asked, the question genuinely bothering him in retrospect. "The members all said it would be romantic, but I spent weeks afterward wondering if it was actually mortifying."

"It was perfect," Y/N interrupted firmly. "I still remember every word."

"Even though it wasn't real?" The question escaped before he could stop it, his careful barrier between show and reality crumbling slightly.

Y/N held his gaze, something resolute in her expression. "It felt real in that moment."

The simple honesty of her words made Seokmin's heart constrict painfully in his chest. How many moments throughout their filming had felt real despite the manufactured setting? How much of what they'd built had been genuine from the start, just waiting for them to acknowledge it?

The PD called for them to move on to home plate, saving Seokmin from the overwhelming emotions threatening to show too plainly on his face.

Just get through this part. The official goodbye. And then we can start the real hello.

---

HOME PLATE

At home plate, several chairs had been arranged for them, along with a small table. The PD handed them each the envelope containing the other's letter.

"Your final mission," the PD explained. "Read the letters silently. Your expressions will tell the story."

Oh great. Just my emotions on full display for the nation to see. No pressure. I'm sure my face will be very subtle and not at all reveal that I'm completely, absolutely, pathetically in love with her.

The cameras zoomed in as they opened their letters. The microphones were turned off, giving them privacy even in this most public moment.

Seokmin's eyes moved across Y/N's neat handwriting, his heart racing faster with each line:

Seokmin,

How strange to be writing a farewell letter that doesn't feel like goodbye at all. When I signed up for this show, I expected an acting challenge—pretending to build a relationship for the cameras. What I didn't expect was to find something real within the pretend.

You've taught me more than I can express about authenticity, about finding joy in small moments, about not taking myself too seriously. You've shown me what it means to be fully present with another person, cameras or no cameras.

As this chapter of our story closes for the viewers, I find myself more excited than ever for the chapters that only we will read. The ones without scripts or missions or PDs directing our movements.

This isn't goodbye. It's just the end of our public story and the beginning of our private one.

Until our next adventure (off-camera),

Y/N

Seokmin looked up, finding Y/N's eyes already on him, a small smile playing at her lips as she read his own letter. He hoped his words had conveyed even a fraction of what he was feeling—the gratitude for their shared experience, the excitement for what came next, the certainty that whatever had grown between them was worth nurturing beyond the show's conclusion.

And he hoped the cameras weren't catching the fact that his eyes were definitely getting misty, because the members would never let him hear the end of it if he cried on national television.

When they finished reading, they carefully folded the letters back into their envelopes, each keeping the other's words as a tangible reminder of this transition point in their relationship.

"And now," the PD said, moving back into the frame, "the formal farewell."

They turned to face each other. The script called for a bow, a thank you, a formal acknowledgment that the "marriage" was concluded.

Seokmin took a deep breath, willing his voice not to crack with the emotions swirling through him. "It was an honor to be your husband, even if only for the cameras."

"Thank you for being the perfect partner in this journey," Y/N replied, her practiced words somehow still containing genuine warmth.

They bowed to each other, exactly as rehearsed.

"Cut! That's a wrap on 'We Got Married'!" the director called. "Great job, everyone!"

The crew began packing up equipment. Staff members approached with congratulations and small parting gifts. There were photos to be taken, final interviews to be recorded. Through it all, Seokmin maintained his professional smile, saying all the right things about what a wonderful experience it had been, all while his mind was fixed on the moment when the cameras would finally, finally stop rolling.

---

The last interview complete, the final photograph taken, Seokmin found himself with an unexpected pocket of semi-privacy as the crew focused on dismantling the more complex camera setups around the field. Y/N had disappeared with the stylist to return some accessories, leaving him momentarily alone with his thoughts.

He wandered to the dugout, sitting on the bench and trying to process the swirl of emotions competing for dominance in his chest. Relief that the public performance was over. Excitement about what came next. Lingering anxiety about how they would navigate the transition from reel to real.

"Mind if I join you?"

He looked up to find Y/N standing at the dugout entrance, changed out of her filming outfit into casual clothes, looking somehow more beautiful without the styling team's efforts.

"Please," he said, moving over to make room beside him.

She sat down, close enough that their shoulders touched, sending a jolt of awareness through him even after all they'd shared.

"So," she said after a moment, "that's it. Ten episodes, all wrapped up with a bow."

"Seems too neat, doesn't it?" Seokmin replied. "Like real life is ever that tidy."

"Definitely not," Y/N agreed with a small laugh. "Real life is messy and complicated and filled with schedules that never align."

"Speaking of real life," she continued, her voice dropping to ensure they wouldn't be overheard by the distant crew members, "was any of it real for you? Or was it all for the show?"

The directness of her question, especially after their rain-soaked confession, caught Seokmin off-guard. Could she still be uncertain? After everything?

But then, maybe that was the point—after months of blurring the lines between performance and reality, how could anyone be sure where one ended and the other began?

In answer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tattered baseball ticket from their first date.

"I kept this," he said simply, holding out the worn stub. "Not for the cameras. For me."

Y/N's eyes widened, then softened with understanding. She reached into her own bag and pulled out a small, pressed flower—one of the blooms that had been woven into her hair during their wedding ceremony.

"I kept this too," she admitted. "For the same reason."

They looked at each other, the pretense of the past months stripped away, leaving only the genuine connection that had grown beneath the surface.

Say something romantic, Seokmin's brain urged. Something poetic and meaningful. Something that captures this perfect moment.

"So, um," he began eloquently, his brain-to-mouth connection failing spectacularly, "do you want to maybe get dinner sometime? Like, as real people? Without cameras? Or PDs? Or missions? Just... us?"

SMOOTH, SEOKMIN. VERY SUAVE. THE PINNACLE OF ROMANCE.

To his relief, Y/N's face broke into a brilliant smile. "Are you asking me on a date, Lee Seokmin?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his ears burning but his voice steady. "The first of many, I hope."

"In that case," Y/N replied, "my answer is yes. To dinner, and to whatever comes after."

The simple acceptance made Seokmin's heart soar. He stood, offering her his hand. "The show's over now," he said softly. "But maybe... we don't have to be?"

Y/N took his hand, rising to stand before him. "I'd like that."

They stood facing each other in the empty dugout, the moment stretching between them, charged with possibility. Seokmin was acutely aware that most of the crew was still present, though focused on their tasks rather than on them. This wasn't complete privacy, but it was as close as they'd gotten in months.

"I've been wanting to do something," he admitted, still holding her hand.

"What's that?" Y/N asked, though the knowing glint in her eye suggested she already had an idea.

"This," Seokmin said, and before his nerves could get the better of him, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Unlike their rain-soaked kiss on the boat, this one was unhurried, soft and sweet and deliberate. His hand came up to cup her cheek, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and for a perfect moment, the rest of the world fell away—no cameras, no audience, no performance. Just them.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N was smiling, her eyes bright with a joy that matched the bubbling happiness in his own chest.

"Was that for the cameras?" she teased softly, nodding toward the distant crew.

"No," Seokmin replied, his voice low and certain. "That was just for us."

As they walked out of the stadium together, hands still entwined, Seokmin felt lighter than he had in months. The show was over, the pretending done. Whatever came next would be real—complicated and messy and wonderful in its authenticity.

And that, he thought as Y/N squeezed his hand, was better than any script the PD could have written.

---

ONE YEAR LATER

A different variety show. The host was interviewing Seokmin about SEVENTEEN's latest comeback.

"And your personal life?" the host asked with practiced casualness. "Fans are curious if you've kept in touch with Y/N after 'We Got Married' ended."

Seokmin smiled, thinking of Y/N who was probably watching the broadcast, possibly still in his apartment where she'd been curled up on his couch when he left for the studio this morning. He thought of the drawer that had somehow become "her drawer" in his dresser, the extra toothbrush in his bathroom, the way his members teased him mercilessly about his dopey smile whenever she texted.

"Some things," he said to the host, still smiling, "are better left off-camera."

The host laughed, recognizing the polite deflection and moving on to questions about the group's upcoming tour.

Later that night, as Seokmin slipped his key into the lock of his apartment, he was greeted by the sound of Y/N's laughter from within. He entered to find her exactly where he'd left her—curled on his couch, script in hand, wearing one of his hoodies—but now Hoshi was there too, apparently in the middle of telling her some ridiculous story that had her in stitches.

"—and then Seokmin tried to convince the manager it wasn't his fault the rice cooker exploded, but there was rice stuck to the CEILING—" Hoshi was saying, breaking off when he noticed Seokmin in the doorway. "Oh, speak of the devil!"

"Betraying my kitchen disasters?" Seokmin asked, dropping his bag and crossing to the couch.

"Just keeping your girlfriend properly informed about what she's gotten herself into," Hoshi replied cheerfully, standing and stretching. "I should head back to the dorm. Thanks for the coffee, Y/N."

After Hoshi left with a knowing wink that made Seokmin roll his eyes, Y/N patted the spot beside her. "So, a rice cooker explosion?"

"Lies and slander," Seokmin insisted, dropping onto the couch and immediately pulling her against his side. "How was your day?"

"Better now," she said simply, fitting herself against him with the ease of long practice. "How was the interview?"

"They asked about you," Seokmin admitted. "If we're still in touch."

"And you said?"

"That some things are better left off-camera."

Y/N smiled, turning to press a kiss to his jaw. "Good answer."

As they settled into the comfortable routine they'd built over the past year—takeout ordered, day's events shared, quiet affection exchanged in the privacy of their own space—Seokmin marveled at how far they'd come from those first awkward interactions in front of cameras.

The show had given them a beginning, but what they'd built since—the inside jokes, the silent understanding, the safe harbor they'd created in each other's lives—that was entirely their own creation. Something real, lasting, and completely camera-free.

And that, Seokmin thought as Y/N laughed at something ridiculous he'd said, was the best finale he could have imagined.

THE END

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