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idyllic-ghost · 4 months ago

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Title: Boyfriend Privileges Pairing: Mingyu x gn(femme presenting)!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship Wordcount: 9.9k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: The ten times Mingyu has shown off his "boyfriend privileges"

Warnings: suggestive content not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, food mention, pet names, reader presents as feminine at one point (wearing a dress) but it still reads as gender neutral, slight angst, bathing together

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Masterlists

You're not sure exactly when it began or what prompted it, but a few months into your relationship, Mingyu started asking you to do little tasks for him. They're always small, often tedious things. Whenever you hesitate, he flashes a charming smile and invokes "boyfriend privileges." Maybe it's the playful way he says it or the endearing look in his eyes, but you always end up giving in.

Mingyu, ever perceptive, has noticed this and teeters on the brink of abusing his "powers." But it doesn't bother you. You'd happily indulge your boyfriend's privileges.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 1. Overgrown puppy cuddles

Mingyu is a large puppy that just doesn’t understand how big he is. At least, that's how you see him. Whenever your boyfriend comes home from an especially rough day at work, he wants cuddles. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he'll pout and beg until you sit down on the couch and let him cuddle up in your lap.

"You're crushing me," you mutter.

You're sitting with your legs over the couch cushions, your back against the armrest. Mingyu's laying over your body like a human blanket—one of those electrical blankets that people use in winter. The man is warm.

"Boyfriend privileges," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.

You sigh because you know he's right, you'd let him do this even if he's crushing your bones. Letting your fingers tangle in his hair, Mingyu let's out a sound of approval and nuzzles his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His arms are around your torso, making sure that you don't even try to move. Not that you would.

"Did you have a long day?" you ask softly and he hums. "My poor baby..."

You coo at him, and he whines—he's relishing in being doted on. Mingyu's arms squeeze you a little, a silent sign that he wants you to continue.

"You work so hard, don't you?" You wait for Mingyu to nod before you coo again, "My hardworking Gyu, you're doing such a good job. People love you, you know that? They appreciate your work. So do I."

Mingyu tilts his head up, his eyebrows raised as he silently asks for confirmation. "I really do," you add.

"Thank you..." He puts his forehead against your chest and sighs. "I needed this... needed you."

"I know, puppy." You smile and ruffle his hair.

Mingyu groans and lifts his upper body off of you, his arms resting on the armrest behind you. "Oh, finally! I can breathe!" you exclaim dramatically.

"Sorry," he mutters.

You cup his face in your hands. "I was kidding. I don't mind." You lean in and press a kiss on his pouty lips. "You're like my blanket... or like a Saint Bernard who's forgotten he's not a puppy anymore."

Mingyu smiles at that, before leaning in to litter your face with pecks that have you giggling and squealing.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 2. Random massages

You're in line for a ride at an amusement park when Mingyu suddenly turns to you. It's been at least five minutes since you started waiting, and you can tell he's getting impatient. His foot taps rhythmically on the ground, and he keeps glancing at his watch.

"Can you give me a massage? My shoulder's stiff," he huffs, rubbing the offending spot for emphasis.

"Again?" Your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Gyu, you should really go see a specialist..."

Mingyu pretends to ponder this suggestion, then shakes his head with a playful grin. "I don't need a specialist if I have you."

You sigh and roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at his pleading expression. His big, puppy-like eyes, the way his smile showcases his adorable canines, and his hands clasped together in a mockery of prayer make it impossible to refuse. "Sure," you mutter, already resigning yourself to his request.

The line moves a little, and you both shuffle forward a few steps. You're momentarily distracted by the imposing structure of the rollercoaster ahead, watching as the cart sends passengers hurtling through loops and dips at breakneck speed. Your reverie is interrupted by Mingyu poking your side.

"What?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Please?" he repeats, his tone even more imploring.

"Now?" You glance around at the crowd surrounding you—though no one seems to be paying attention, you feel self-conscious.

"Now," Mingyu insists, nodding earnestly.

"Babe, I can't massage you here. You know you shouldn't take off your shirt in public, right? Even if we do find somewhere private, I don't have any oils—"

"Not a big one." He interrupts, holding up his hand with his index finger and thumb inches apart. "A small one. Just on the spot on my shoulder."

"Gyu—"

"Boyfriend privileges," he pleads quietly, eyes wide and hopeful.

You can't say no to him when he gets like this. With a resigned sigh, you motion for him to turn around. He does so eagerly, bending his knees slightly to give you better access to his shoulder. Placing one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder, you begin to work your thumb into the knot you find there.

Mingyu lets out a soft, contented sigh, only audible to your ears, as he relaxes almost immediately under your touch. The tension in his shoulder melts away, and his head drops forward slightly, eyes closing in relief. The gentle hum of the amusement park, the chatter of the crowd, and the distant screams from the rollercoaster all fade into the background as you focus on easing his discomfort.

Despite the oddity of the situation, there's something intimate and endearing about the moment. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making. And as you massage Mingyu's shoulder, you can't help but feel a warm rush of affection for him and his silly, endearing ways.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 3. Sharing food

The restaurant is alive with the hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter. However, all of this fades into a distant background as you focus intently on Chan's story. It's a rare opportunity to meet the members in person, despite your boyfriend working so closely with them, so you want to make the most of every second.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is lost in his own world. Ever since he finished his meal, he’s been zoned out—leaning back in his chair with a distant look in his eyes. You can't decide if he's impatiently waiting for Chan to finish or if he's just succumbed to a food coma. But when he casually reaches over and steals a fry from your plate, your doubts about the food coma vanish. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze with a small, mischievous smile before grabbing another fry. You let him.

A sudden gasp beside you snaps you back, and you turn to see Jun staring at you with mock jealousy from across the table. You smile and tilt your head questioningly.

"What?" you ask, bemused.

"You hit my hand when I tried to borrow a fry from you," Jun accuses, his eyes narrowed at you.

"First of all, I gently slapped it," you correct him. "Second of all, you were stealing, not borrowing. Don't try to make your crime sound better."

Jun huffs dramatically, and you can't help but grin. Meanwhile, Mingyu, taking advantage of the distraction, nabs another fry from your plate. There are almost none left now. As Jun reaches out to make another attempt, you slap his hand away with a swift motion.

"But he—" Jun starts to protest.

"Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu interjects smoothly, popping the last two fries into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

You hear a collective groan from the others at the table, but you just chuckle at Mingyu’s proud expression. "Mhm, boyfriend privileges," you repeat softly, unable to suppress a smile.

You lift a hand to gently brush the hair out of Mingyu's face, and he looks at you with a loving smile that makes your heart flutter. The warm feeling in your stomach is more than just the satisfaction from the delicious food you've eaten.

"Can I finish telling my story now?" Chan interrupts, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You pull your gaze away from Mingyu and refocus on Chan, giving him your full attention once again. "Go on," you say, eager to hear the rest of his tale.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 4. Seeing you first thing in the morning

The feeling of someone's soft breaths feathering against your face makes you scrunch your nose in sleepy annoyance. Mingyu's warm hands travel to your waist with the familiarity of someone who’s done it a million times before. And he has. His touch is intimate and assured, sliding over your skin with practiced ease. He knows you're awake now, evident by the low hum you let out, so he presses a few tender kisses on the bare skin of your clavicle, each one like a gentle spark of warmth.

"G'morning," you mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep, the words blending into a sigh.

"Good morning," he whispers softly, his breath tickling your skin.

You recognize his morning voice—his "I just woke up" voice—so you can tell he’s been up for a while. His voice sounds clearer, more alert, like he’s had time to turn around and take a sip of the water he always leaves on his bedside table.

"Have you been awake for long?" you ask, your words barely above a whisper as his lips continue their gentle exploration, each kiss a tender reminder of his affection.

"Since eight-thirty," he answers between kisses, each one a delicate attempt to keep you as close as possible.

You glance at the clock, seeing that it's almost nine already. "Babe, you've been awake for half an hour... why didn’t you wake me up?"

Mingyu pauses his kisses to look up at you, his expression soft and affectionate, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Turning his head slightly, he looks over at the clock and hums thoughtfully.

"I was busy," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. He nestles his head back in the crook of your neck, his warmth enveloping you, but doesn’t resume his kisses, much to your dismay.

"Busy doing what?" you murmur, curiosity piqued, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back.

"Looking at you," he admits with a giggle, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His gaze is filled with affection, his eyes sparkling with sincerity, and he's trying his best to hold back a big grin. "It's my boyfriend privilege. Only I get to see you like this."

"It's a privilege to see my bed head?" You snort, but Mingyu stays serious, his eyes unwavering, his hand gently stroking your cheek.

"Everyday," he replies softly, his voice a tender caress.

You feel a rush of warmth at his words, and you can't help but smile. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer for a soft, lingering kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, the kiss deepening with the love and tenderness that has grown between you over the months. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, intimate moment.

When you finally pull back, Mingyu's eyes are half-lidded, his expression content and serene. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch light and loving. "I love these quiet mornings with you," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

"Me too," you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection, your eyes locked with his.

You snuggle closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The world outside can wait a little longer as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, the quiet intimacy of the morning making everything else fade away. Mingyu's hands continue their gentle caresses, his fingers tracing soft lines over your skin. You feel utterly cherished, each touch and kiss a testament to the love you share. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the warmth of his body against yours create a cocoon of contentment that you never want to leave.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 5. Showing you off

"Gyu!" you shout from the bathroom, "What time is it?"

The sound of his long steps come closer and closer until the bathroom door pushes open. Mingyu's head peeks through the gap in the door, and smiles as soon as he sees you. You're wearing the new dress he bought you, the cute sundress that couldn't help himself from buying when he saw you looking at it.

"You're pretty," he murmurs and slinks into the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around you, your back relaxing into his chest. "Mingyu," you repeat.

"What?" He pulls his eyes away from the dress to meet your eyes.

"What time is it?" you ask again with a teasing smile.

"Oh, it's around three-thirty." His hands find your waist. "We should leave in half an hour."

You nod and start packing up your make up. "Good, I think I'm done anyway... do you think I look okay?"

Mingyu lets go of you, spinning you around to face him. You can only grin while he studies you carefully with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed in focus. After a few seconds, he nods—satisfied with what he's seen.

"Perfect." He puts his hand right below your jaw, careful not to disturb the make up on your face. "You look perfect, baby."

His smile remains radiant as you arrive at his family's get-together, a constant beam of joy that lights up the entire evening. Mingyu keeps you close, his arm possessively yet gently wrapped around you, presenting you to the members of his family you haven't yet met. Every introduction is accompanied by a glowing remark about you, his voice brimming with pride. You feel like a movie star at a film premiere—the constant pampering, the way his eyes sparkle every time he looks at you, and the sneaky photos he snaps when he thinks you're not looking.

Mingyu can't seem to stop showering you with compliments. "This is my partner," he says, beaming, as he introduces you to yet another relative. "They're incredible, you know. Smart, kind, and absolutely stunning." He turns his head to you, trying to contain his big smile by biting down on his bottom lip.

You blush, murmuring polite responses, but his praise never ceases. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes full of adoration, and the way he never lets go of your hand, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture.

Throughout the evening, Mingyu is a constant presence by your side, his touch grounding you amidst the whirlwind of social interactions. His family is warm and welcoming, their smiles genuine as they embrace you into their fold. The air is filled with laughter and conversation, the smell of delicious food wafting through the house, creating an atmosphere of warmth and togetherness.

Mingyu’s playful nature shines through as he snaps candid photos of you, his grin widening each time you catch him in the act. "You’re just too beautiful not to capture," he explains with a cheeky smile, earning a soft laugh from you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself growing more and more flustered under the weight of his unending compliments. Yet, there's a thrill in it—a heady mixture of embarrassment and joy at being the center of his universe. His family notices, and they tease him gently about his lovesick behavior, but it only makes him hold you closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that make your heart flutter.

By the time the evening winds down, you’re overwhelmed with affection, feeling cherished and adored in a way that leaves you breathless. The warmth of Mingyu’s family, combined with his constant praise and tender glances, has wrapped you in a cocoon of love and contentment. As you prepare to leave, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close for a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with genuine gratitude. "You made everything perfect."

You smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. "Thank you for taking me along... I don't think I've seen you like this before," you admit, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet of the night.

"What do you mean?" He cocks his head, his eyes curious and endearing, making you laugh softly at his obliviousness.

"You were trying to show me off all night," you explain, a playful note in your voice. Seeing his slightly worried expression, you quickly add, "It was sweet, Gyu. Really, it was."

Relief floods his features, and he leans in to press a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft, lingering a second longer than it should, filling you with a warmth that spreads through your entire body. "It's my boyfriend privilege to get to show you off," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You groan playfully, rolling your eyes at his words as he starts giggling, the sound infectious and heartwarming. Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the cab he's ordered to take you home. The night air is cool and refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, but Mingyu's hand in yours keeps you warm.

As you approach the cab, he pauses for a moment, turning to look at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. "You know," he says softly, brushing a stray hair from your face, "You should wear that dress more often."

"Oh yeah?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words as he pulls you into a tight embrace. "Yeah," he whispers.

With one last lingering kiss, you both get into the cab, his arm never leaving your shoulders. As the city lights blur past the window, you lean into Mingyu, feeling his warmth envelop you.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 6. A shoulder to cry on

When you enter the apartment, none of the lights are turned on. You worked late that day, but not so late that Mingyu would've gone to sleep already. The apartment is eerily quiet, devoid of the usual warmth and liveliness. Toeing off your shoes and putting away your outerwear in their rightful places, you start to wonder if he's not home. He usually texts you when he gets home, but you haven't received any messages.

Concern etches between your brows as you walk further into the apartment. The kitchen is spotless, with no pots or pans on the stove—not that you always expect Mingyu to cook, but he had told you earlier today that he'd have something ready for you when you got home. You open the fridge, finding it just as you left it this morning. The absence of any signs of recent activity deepens your worry.

As you pass the bathroom by the guest room, you flick on the lights, casting a warm glow to see the path to your shared bedroom. By the ajar door, you notice a piece of fabric slumped together on the floor. Picking it up, you realize it's Mingyu's jacket. You drape it over your arm and continue to the bedroom, your heart pounding with unease.

He's not there, but you see that the light in your bathroom is on, a soft glow seeping through the cracks in the door. You place his jacket on the edge of the bed before approaching the bathroom door, only to find it locked.

You knock softly, pressing your ear against the door. "Mingyu, I'm home... are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," he replies, but his voice is thick with tears. "Sorry, I didn't have time to make you dinner... I think there's some leftovers from yesterday."

"Please, open the door." Ignoring his suggestion about dinner, you grab the door handle. "I can hear that you're not okay."

You hear him sigh, and his footsteps approach the door. Stepping back, you wait as the door swings open. The first thing you see is his bloodshot eyes and red nose. He sniffles and looks away, trying to hide his vulnerability.

"I'm..." He hesitates, torn between lying and being honest.

Before he can decide, you engulf him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. "Oh, baby..."

The dam breaks as a sob bubbles up Mingyu's throat, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that shatters the silence. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into your shirt. You can feel the wet warmth of his tears spreading, a tangible sign of his anguish.

You rub his back soothingly, your hand moving in slow, comforting circles. Each sob wracks his body, causing his shoulders to tremble violently. His fingers clutch at your shirt, holding on as if he might drown without this anchor.

Minutes pass, each one heavy with his sorrow, until finally, his sobs begin to subside. His shoulders stop shaking, and his breathing slowly evens out, though occasional hiccups still break through. Only then do you loosen your embrace, though you don't fully let go. Instead, you gently take his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that cling to his skin. His eyes are red and swollen, filled with a mixture of lingering sadness and gratitude.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask softly.

"...can I tell you later? I'll start crying again if I tell you now." He lets out a choked laugh, trying to relieve the tension, but your frown remains.

"Okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

You gently wipe away Mingyu’s tears, your thumb brushing over his cheeks with tender care. His skin is warm and damp, his eyes still glistening with the remnants of his sorrow. Your touch is gentle and reassuring as you guide him to change into more comfortable clothes. You help him out of his work attire, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers, and replacing it with a soft, worn-in t-shirt that brings him comfort. Each movement is deliberate, designed to soothe and calm him. You then help him into a pair of loose, cozy sweatpants, ensuring he's enveloped in softness and warmth.

Once he’s settled, you guide him to the couch in the living room, your arm around his waist, supporting his slow and heavy movements. The weight of his exhaustion is impossible to miss, his shoulders slumped and his steps dragging. He collapses onto the couch with a weary sigh, sinking into the cushions as if they might absorb some of his burden.

You start to leave for the kitchen, intending to get him something to eat or drink, but he grabs your hand. His grip is firm yet desperate, his fingers curling around yours with a silent plea for you to stay.

You turn back to him, your heart aching at the sight of his vulnerable expression. Mingyu looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and need. "Don't leave," he whispers.

"I'm going to heat up some leftovers," you explain. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Mingyu shakes his head no and lets go of your hand. You feel his eyes on you as you walk around the kitchen, quickly putting something together. It's not fancy, and it's nothing like what he usually makes you, but it's enough for the two of you right now.

When you return to his side, you give him his bowl before settling down next to him. You eat in silence, letting Mingyu sit as close to you as he pleases. When you're done, you take the dishes to the kitchen. Although you want him to sit still and rest, he follows you—his arms wrapped around your waist the entire time.

It's hard to move around, but you don't complain. Soon enough, the dishes are done and you're back on the couch. Mingyu has his arms wrapped tightly around you as you lay on top of him.

"Thank you," he mutters.

"You don't have to thank me." You lean up to look him in the eye. "Me taking care of you is your boyfriend privilege."

He smiles and presses a chaste kiss on your lips before closing his eyes. The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch on accident. But your stiff body is worth it when you get to see Mingyu smiling at you the next morning.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 7. A shoulder to nap on

On the flight back home from a much-needed vacation, Mingyu booked the two of you first-class seats. It was partly because he loves spoiling you, but also so you could sleep comfortably on the way home. The plush seats and extra legroom were a perfect idea, promising a restful journey, but right now, that comfort feels like a far-off dream.

The flight was delayed by a few hours, leaving you and Mingyu stuck at the gate. The airport buzzes with the quiet hum of late-night travelers, the occasional announcement crackling over the PA system. The two of you sit in the lounge, surrounded by weary passengers slumped in their chairs, eyes glazed with fatigue. The smell of coffee and cleaning agents lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of newspapers and the muted clatter of luggage wheels.

Mingyu tries to make the best of the situation, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the weariness. "Just a little longer," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the delay, his presence is a comforting anchor in the sea of exhaustion, his voice a soft murmur that calms your racing thoughts.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking by slowly. The soft lighting of the lounge casts a warm glow, but it does little to chase away the tiredness settling into your bones. Mingyu's fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring, each stroke a silent promise of love and comfort.

"I can't wait to be home in my bed," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with exhaustion.

Mingyu leans his head on your shoulder, his soft hair brushing against your cheek as he closes his eyes with a contented sigh. The weight and warmth of his head against your shoulder provide an unexpected comfort, grounding you in the moment. "This is enough for me," he says softly, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin.

"My shoulder?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, feeling the vibration of his chuckle through the closeness.

"Yes," he replies, his tone earnest and affectionate. His closeness feels intimate and safe, a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the airport.

"And why should I let you have my shoulder?" you tease, a smile tugging at your lips as you relish the closeness.

"Boyfriend privileges," he replies matter-of-factly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. The slight pressure of his lips against your skin sends a wave of warmth through you.

You sigh, a mixture of amusement and tenderness filling your heart. The playful banter and the sincere love in his voice make your heart swell. You tilt your head to rest against his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The world around you fades into a comforting blur, the distant chatter of the airport and the mechanical hum of the environment becoming mere background noise.

For a moment, it's just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth and love. His presence is a cocoon of safety and affection, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax fully in his embrace. The gentle rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft, warm pressure of his head against yours create a symphony of comfort that lulls you into a peaceful state.

Your peace is soon interrupted, however. Finally, the boarding announcement crackles through the speakers, breaking the heavy silence of anticipation and sparking a collective sigh of relief that ripples through the gate area. The weariness of the long wait begins to lift as passengers gather their belongings. Mingyu helps you gather your things, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way to the boarding line. His touch is a reassuring anchor, grounding you amidst the bustling crowd.

"Almost there," Mingyu whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank goodness," you reply, offering him a tired smile.

The atmosphere shifts as you step onto the jet bridge, a mix of excitement and fatigue hanging in the air. The cool, conditioned air of the plane greets you as you board, offering a welcome contrast to the stuffy terminal. The flight attendants greet you with warm smiles, guiding you toward the plush sanctuary of first class.

Settling into your spacious seats, the world outside begins to fade away. The soft cushions envelop you in comfort, and the generous legroom allows you to stretch out and relax. Mingyu stows your carry-ons in the overhead compartment with ease, his movements fluid and practiced.

As he sits down beside you, the overhead lights cast a gentle glow. "This is so much better," you murmur.

Mingyu smiles, reaching over to adjust your blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness that melts your heart. "I told you it would be worth the wait," he says softly, his eyes filled with affection.

You can't help but smile at the thought of curling up next to him, the hum of the plane's engines a soothing backdrop. "You always know how to spoil me," you whisper, leaning into his touch.

"It's my favorite thing to do," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Besides, you deserve it."

As the plane takes off, you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The world outside the window shrinks to a distant blur, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

"Thank you, Gyu," you murmur, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

"For what?" he asks, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"For everything. For this. For you," you whisper, your words trailing off as sleep begins to claim you.

"Always," he replies softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "Sleep well, my love."

Wrapped in the comfort of his love and care, you drift off, the promise of restful sleep finally within reach. The gentle touch of his fingers lulls you into a peaceful slumber

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 8. Lunch boxes

When someone called out for lunchtime, the members collectively let out a big sigh of relief. With tired limbs, they make their way to the cafeteria. While everyone else lines up to buy something, Mingyu heads straight to the fridge and retrieves a carefully prepared meal. He sits down at a table, placing the metal box with a wooden lid in front of him. A pink, stretchy band adorned with tiny red strawberries holds the spoon in place. His face lights up with a smile as he spots the small note on the lid.

Hope practice is going well! I know you're working hard, so please enjoy your lunch and eat well! Can't wait for you to come home♡(>ᴗ•)

Mingyu carefully folds the pink post-it and tucks it into his phone case, a cherished reminder of your thoughtfulness. By then, people have started sitting down beside him, their eyes subtly glancing at the box in front of him. Nobody says anything—they already know what it is—until he opens it.

Inside the box is a beautifully arranged Korean lunchbox. The main compartment holds perfectly steamed white rice, topped with a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. Nestled beside it is a portion of crispy fried chicken, golden brown and glistening with a light coating of sweet and spicy sauce. The other sections are filled with a variety of colorful banchan: neatly sliced kimchi, lightly seasoned spinach, sweet and tangy pickled radish, and tender strips of stir-fried beef bulgogi. There’s even a small section of rolled omelette, its yellow hue bright and inviting.

The delicious aroma wafts up, drawing envious glances from his fellow members. The savory scent of fried chicken and the tangy hint of kimchi fill the air, making everyone's mouths water.

"Did Y/N make you another lunchbox?" Seokmin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, they were working from home yesterday, so they had some extra time on their hands," Mingyu replies, a small smile playing on his lips as he inspects the beautifully arranged food.

"It's not fair that only you get homemade lunches from Y/N!" Seungkwan whines, his tone a mix of genuine envy and playful teasing.

Mingyu responds by sticking his tongue out at Seungkwan, making the younger man groan in exasperation. "Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu states proudly, his grin widening.

As he digs in, Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, savoring the flavors and the love that went into preparing his meal. The meat is perfectly seasoned, the rice fluffy, and the banchan vibrant and flavorful. Each bite is a reminder of your care and effort, making the meal taste even better. The members watch with a mix of admiration and envy as Mingyu enjoys his lunch.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 9. Bath buddy

As you walk the last bit to the door of your apartment building, you notice a figure in the distance. A tall man, vaguely boyfriend-shaped, waving both of his arms over his head with enthusiasm. Your heart skips a beat, and your smile matches Mingyu's as you break into a run, closing the gap between you. He’s sweaty from the gym, his skin glistening in the fading light, but you don’t mind. You launch yourself into his embrace, pressing yourself as close as possible, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of his body.

"Are you trying to squeeze me to death?" he asks jokingly, his voice vibrating against your ear.

You loosen your grip slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. "You have no idea how much I've missed you today."

Instead of teasing you, Mingyu gently pats your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a comforting touch. He sees the weariness in your eyes and the way your hair seems to stick out in all the wrong places, evidence of a long, hard day. "Bad day, hun?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

The moment he speaks, you feel your guard drop completely. Your lips naturally fall into a pout, and your hands grip the material of his shirt a little tighter. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the exhaustion you feel. Mingyu coos at you softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment, offering silent comfort. He then guides you to the door, his hand resting on the small of your back, a steadying presence.

"Do you want to take a bath with me?" he asks as he opens the door for you, his voice gentle and soothing.

"Okay," you murmur.

Once inside, the apartment feels like a sanctuary, the chaos of the outside world fading away as the door clicks shut behind you. The familiar scent of home, mingled with Mingyu's comforting presence, immediately begins to soothe your frazzled nerves. He leads you to the bathroom, his touch a constant, reassuring anchor as he guides you down the softly lit hallway. The gentle hum of the apartment envelops you, creating a cocoon of tranquility.

In the bathroom, Mingyu starts running the bath, the sound of water filling the room like a calming symphony. You watch as he carefully adds your favorite bath salts, the granules dissolving into the warm water and releasing a soothing aroma. The scent of lavender and chamomile fills the air, creating a spa-like atmosphere that begins to unwind the knots of tension coiled within you.

Mingyu helps you undress with tender, loving movements, his touch feather-light yet filled with purpose. His fingers trace the contours of your body with a delicate touch, each gesture a silent reassurance of his love and care. The way his hands glide over your skin, unhurried and gentle, sends a wave of warmth through you, dispelling the day’s weariness.

He sheds his own clothes with practiced ease, the fabric slipping off his toned frame effortlessly. The sight of his familiar form, strong and comforting, brings a sense of security and warmth. His skin, slightly glistening from the exertion of the day, catches the soft light, highlighting the lines of his muscles and the contours of his body. There's a serene beauty in the way he moves, each action unhurried and filled with quiet confidence.

Stepping into the bath first, Mingyu eases himself into the steaming water with a sigh of contentment, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into the tub, the water enveloping him like a warm embrace. His eyes, inviting and filled with affection, lock onto yours as he extends his hand towards you. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent invitation wrapped in love and intimacy.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip as he helps you into the tub. The water envelops you in a gentle embrace, its warmth soothing your tired muscles. You settle between his legs, leaning back against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby against your back.

As you relax into his embrace, Mingyu's arms wrap around you, holding you close. His hands begin to gently massage your shoulders, his fingers working out the knots of tension with skillful precision. The sensation is both relaxing and intimate, his touch a balm to your weary soul. You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment, feeling the stress of the day melt away under his tender ministrations.

The soft glow of the bathroom light casts a golden hue over everything, enhancing the sense of intimacy and warmth. Shadows dance along the walls, creating a serene and almost magical ambiance. The only sounds are the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional sigh of contentment from both of you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice soft and content.

"I love you too," he replies, his lips brushing against your ear.

You stay like that for a while, the water lapping gently around you, the only sounds the occasional drip from the faucet and the steady rhythm of Mingyu's breathing. It’s a perfect moment of peace and connection, wrapped in the comfort and love that only he can provide.

After a few minutes, Mingyu shifts slightly behind you, his movements gentle yet purposeful. "Can you wash my hair?" he asks softly, his voice laced with a boyish charm that makes your heart flutter.

You smile, turning slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "Of course," you reply, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hands you the shampoo, and you pour a generous amount into your palm. Mingyu dips his head back into the water, wetting his hair thoroughly before leaning forward to give you better access. The rich, lathering scent of his shampoo fills the air, mingling with the soothing aromas of the bath salts, creating a calming symphony of fragrances.

Your fingers work through his hair, massaging his scalp with gentle, circular motions. The silky strands slip through your fingers, and you take your time, ensuring each section of his hair is coated with the fragrant lather. Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, his body visibly relaxing under your ministrations.

"This feels amazing," he murmurs, his voice a low, relaxed hum that sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, continuing your careful work. "You deserve it," you say softly. "It's your boyfriend privilege, isn't it?"

Mingyu chuckles, the sound a soft, comforting vibration against your chest. Before he can respond, you pick up the shower head, adjusting the temperature before gently rinsing out the shampoo. Tilting his head back with a gentle hand, you let the warm water cascade through his hair, washing away the suds and leaving his hair clean and soft.

He leans back against you once more, his hair damp and silky against your skin. His eyes are half-lidded with contentment, a serene smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and affection.

"Anytime," you reply, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment create a cocoon around you, shutting out the rest of the world. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm that syncs with your own. Mingyu's hands rest gently on your arms, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the tranquility of the bath.

The two of you stay like that, cocooned in warmth, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a golden hue over everything. The sounds of the water and your synchronized breathing create a peaceful ambiance.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 10. Tie-fixer

You were already in your pajamas, nestled comfortably in bed with your book, when Mingyu walked in, still dressed in his suit but without his tie. The crisp white shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and the slight dishevelment of his attire made him look irresistibly charming. His hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, adding to his effortlessly handsome appearance. He didn't have to say anything; the moment your eyes met his, you were already putting your book to the side and swinging your legs out of bed, the anticipation of helping him a welcome routine.

"Where's your tie?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice, tilting your head slightly.

Mingyu pulls the piece of fabric from his pocket and hands it to you, a weary yet appreciative smile playing on his lips. The tie is cool and smooth in your hands, its silk gliding between your fingers. Rising to your feet, you step close to him, your fingers deftly slipping the tie around his neck. The familiar action feels intimate, almost like a ritual between the two of you, a small moment of connection in your busy lives.

As you slowly begin to tie it, your fingers working methodically, you glance up at him. "How long is the event?" you ask, your voice soft and caring, eyes meeting his with genuine concern.

"I probably won't be home until after two," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his long night ahead settles in. The lines of fatigue on his face tug at your heart.

"It's okay. I want you to have fun," you murmur, focusing on the tie but feeling the sincerity of your words. "I'll be busy with dinner and my book anyway."

Mingyu watches you, his eyes softening as he takes in your familiar, comforting presence. "I wish you could come with me," he says quietly, his hands gently resting on your hips as you finish tying the knot. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent promise of his affection.

You tighten the tie and smooth it down, patting his chest gently. "You know I'd love to, but someone's got to hold down the fort here," you reply jokingly, your smile warm and reassuring.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, resonating in the quiet of the room. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and love.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a warm embrace. "Let's not find out," you whisper, your cheek pressed against his, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

Mingyu hugs you tightly, savoring the closeness, the scent of his cologne mingling with the comforting smell of home. When he finally pulls back, he looks down at you with a mix of love and reluctance. "I really should go," he says, though he doesn't make a move to leave just yet.

"I know," you reply, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place. "You'll be amazing, as always."

"Mm, especially with such a well-tied tie," he smiles playfully at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm so lucky for my boyfriend privilege."

You chuckle softly, resting your hands on his chest. "Yes, you're very privileged," you tease. "Just remember that when you're out there charming everyone."

Mingyu grins, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. "How could I forget? My number one fan is waiting for me at home."

You roll your eyes, but your smile is fond. "Just don't let it go to your head."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "No promises... I'll miss you," he says, his voice softening as he cups your face in his hands.

"I'll miss you too," you reply, covering his hands with yours.

He gives you one last lingering kiss, his lips warm and tender against yours, a promise of his return. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can," he promises, his voice filled with genuine affection, his hand squeezing yours gently.

"I'll be waiting," you say softly, watching as he finally turns to leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The room feels a little emptier without him, but you return to bed, your book waiting patiently. For a moment, you just sit there, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence and the subtle ache of his absence, already looking forward to his return.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ... 11?

The winter chill had settled in, but the warmth of Valentine's Day wrapped the city in a blanket of love and excitement. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of snow, mingling with the fragrance of roses that seemed to bloom on every corner. Everywhere you looked, couples were bundled up in cozy scarves and gloves, holding hands, sharing tender smiles, and exchanging sweet nothings. The city streets were transformed into a romantic wonderland, with heart-shaped lights casting a soft, warm glow on the cobblestone paths, creating a dreamy ambiance that made everything feel just a little more magical.

Mingyu had planned the entire day with meticulous care, wanting to make every moment special for you. The day began with the gentle sound of his voice waking you, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, holding a tray with breakfast in bed—fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, topped with fresh berries, and a steaming cup of your favorite coffee. The sweet aroma filled the room, and as you shared the meal, you couldn't help but smile at how perfectly the day had started.

The afternoon was spent strolling through the city, the two of you arm in arm as you visited all your favorite spots. The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the holiday, but for you, time seemed to slow down, every moment stretching into something memorable. You laughed over shared memories, pointing out familiar landmarks and reliving inside jokes that only the two of you understood. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but it was no match for the warmth of Mingyu's hand holding yours, or the way his laughter seemed to melt the chill away.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the city, Mingyu surprised you with dinner at the restaurant where you’d had your first date. The sight of the familiar entrance made your heart skip a beat, and when you stepped inside, the ambiance was perfect—low lights that cast a gentle glow over the intimate setting, soft music playing in the background, and a table tucked away in a quiet corner just for the two of you. Mingyu looked absolutely perfect, the flickering candlelight highlighting his features, making his eyes sparkle with a warmth that mirrored the love in your heart.

He was wearing the turtleneck you had gotten him last December, the deep burgundy color standing out beautifully under his sleek black coat. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, made you fall in love with him all over again.

The dinner was delicious, every bite savored as you reminisced about that first date and how far you'd come since then. But as the evening went on, you noticed a certain tension in Mingyu—a subtle shift in his demeanor. He was attentive as always, but his hand gripped yours just a little tighter, and his eyes, though filled with affection, seemed to hold something more—an emotion he hadn’t yet put into words.

When dessert was finished and the check was paid, Mingyu suggested a walk through the park. The idea seemed simple, but there was something in his tone that made your heart flutter with anticipation. The park was beautifully decorated for the holiday, with twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the trees and heart-shaped lanterns swaying gently from the branches. The path was dusted with a light layer of snow, which crunched softly underfoot as you walked side by side, the sound mingling with the distant laughter of other couples enjoying the night.

The cold nipped at your nose, but Mingyu’s presence kept you warm. He walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours with every step, and as you made your way deeper into the park, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet he had become. His hand, warm and reassuring in yours, was steady, but there was a nervous energy beneath the surface, a sense of something important hanging in the air between you.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the world around you gradually fading into the background as you simply enjoyed being together. The park was peaceful, the night air crisp and clear, with the soft crunch of snow underfoot being the only sound between you. The distant twinkle of lights reflected off the lake's surface, casting a serene, almost magical glow over the scene. The sky above was an expanse of deep navy, dotted with stars that peeked out from behind the clouds, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

As you approached a secluded bench near the lake, Mingyu began to slow down, his footsteps becoming more deliberate. His breath was visible in the cold air, curling upward in soft, white puffs. The quietude around you seemed to intensify, amplifying the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Mingyu stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights strung up in the trees, making them look like they were sparkling with unshed emotions.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender, as he pulled you closer. Without waiting for your response, he wrapped his coat around you, his touch protective and warm.

"Not with you here," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. But as you looked up at him, you noticed something different, a subtle tension in his expression. "... you're unusually quiet tonight. Is everything okay?"

Mingyu smiled, though there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. "There's something I've been wanting to say all day," he began, his tone serious but laced with affection, each word carefully chosen. "Valentine's Day is all about celebrating love, right?"

You nodded, curiosity piqued, your gaze never leaving his. "Right..."

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs before he released it slowly, his hands still holding yours, their warmth grounding you both. His expression softened, and the affection in his eyes deepened, becoming almost palpable. "Well, I wanted to celebrate us... You know how I've always said I'm lucky to have boyfriend privileges?" His lips curled into a small, playful smile, the familiar phrase bringing a rush of warmth to your chest. It was an inside joke that had grown between you, a phrase that had come to symbolize the depth of his love.

You laughed lightly, nodding, your heart fluttering. "You've mentioned it a time or two."

"Well," he continued, the playful edge in his voice giving way to something more serious, more profound. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself for what he was about to say. "I've been thinking a lot about what that really means. About how much I love you, and how my life has been so much better with you in it. I don't just want boyfriend privileges anymore. I want... something more."

The air around you seemed to still, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Mingyu's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you found yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"Mingyu... what are you saying?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you searched his eyes, hoping for confirmation of what you suspected.

"... I want husband privileges," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. The words tumbled out like a secret he had been holding close to his heart, and as they settled between you, the weight of them was almost overwhelming.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in, sending a rush of emotion through your entire being. Before you could fully process what was happening, Mingyu reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The deep burgundy of the box stood out against the black fabric of his coat, catching the faint light from the lanterns around you. Your breath caught in your throat as he dropped to one knee, the world around you dissolving into a blur. The soft glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, making them shine with a love so intense it took your breath away.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, each word laced with raw emotion. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you, and being your forever? I want to be your husband, not just today, not just tomorrow, but every day for the rest of our lives."

The sincerity in his voice, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held the ring, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze made tears well up in your eyes. Your hand flew to your mouth in disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest as the magnitude of the moment hit you. The world seemed to stop, the night holding its breath as you looked down at him, his expression filled with hope, love, and adoration.

"Mingyu," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion, each word carrying the weight of your love for him. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you!"

The tension in his shoulders melted away as his face broke into the widest smile, relief and joy flooding his features. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent. The ring was perfect—simple, elegant, and exactly what you would have chosen. It glimmered softly in the light, a tangible symbol of the promise you had just made to each other.

Without hesitation, Mingyu stood up, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off your feet. He spun you around in a joyful whirl, the cold air forgotten as you both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet park. The night seemed to come alive with your happiness, the trees around you swaying gently as if to share in your joy.

When he finally set you down, his arms remained around you, pulling you into a kiss. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks, his touch warm and steady. The tenderness in his grip made your heart swell, and as he leaned in, you could feel his breath mingling with yours, a soft, shared anticipation hanging in the air. When his lips finally met yours, it was as if time itself slowed. The kiss was soft at first, a delicate, reverent connection that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

But then, it deepened, his lips moving against yours with a slow, purposeful intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Each movement was deliberate, filled with a passion that burned through you, igniting every nerve. His kiss wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a promise, a vow sealed with every ounce of emotion he had been holding back. You could feel his love in the way his hands held you, not too tight, but firm enough that you knew he never wanted to let go.

As his lips molded perfectly against yours, the rest of the world faded into oblivion. The cold night air, the distant sounds of the city, even the twinkling lights around you—all of it dissolved into the background, leaving only the warmth of his kiss, the rapid beat of your heart, and the overwhelming flood of emotion between you. It was as if the two of you existed in your own universe, a moment suspended in time where nothing else mattered.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with reverence and devotion, as if the words were sacred.

Tears still glistening in your eyes, you smiled up at him, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you too, Mingyu. I hope you're ready for all the husband privileges."

He laughed, the sound rich and full of joy, resonating with the happiness that radiated from him. It was a laugh that spoke of a future filled with love, laughter, and countless more moments like this. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "This is the best Valentine’s Day of my life," he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

"It’s just the beginning, baby," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you looked up at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every line that spoke of his love for you.

The two of you stood there in the park, wrapped in each other’s arms as the lights twinkled around you, the cold air nipping at your cheeks but failing to penetrate the warmth that enveloped you both. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt like it would last forever.

As you walked back home, hand in hand, the silence between you was filled with contentment and the unspoken promises of what was to come. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger. The excitement of what lay ahead filled you with warmth, and as you leaned into Mingyu, you knew that your life together would be filled with endless love, laughter, and, of course, husband privileges.

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idyllic-ghost · 6 months ago

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Title: INK'D Hearts: Tattoos and Tangled Sheets Pairing: tattoo artist!hongjoong x afab!reader Genre: tattoo shop au, strangers to lovers, romantic, fluff, angst, smut, opposites attract Wordcount: 26.7k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: All you wanted was to have your first tattoo done and over with. How were you supposed to know that your tattoo artist would be this cute? For the sake of your sanity, you try to get over how good he looks—but fate seems to have other plans. Although you keep meeting, and even if you seem to fit well together, there's something, unbeknownst to you, holding Hongjoong back.

Warnings: reader is described as feminine but uses gn pronouns, corruption kink mentioned, dom/sub dynamics, kinky stuff happens, mentions of feeling insecure, lack of experience on reader's part, the rest of atz make an appearance briefly and are being a little annoying, underground band!atz, hongjoong and reader are opposites (hongjoong being more edgy, while reader is a little softer), mentions of smoking

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Thank you @wongyuseokie for making this banner for me!

Masterlists

The music was loud in your headphones, but you couldn’t make out any of the words the band was singing - it was mostly there to distract you from your thoughts and the bustling city around you. For some reason, everyone and their mother decided to go out today. Walking towards the tattoo shop, you were forced to sneak around groups of people and snake through crowds. Ink’d was right around the corner of the popular market, a place which, unbeknownst to you, was holding a special event today. However, the crowds of people thinned out as you turned the corner down an alley. There were cafés, clothing stores, and hair salons in every other building. On top of each were fancy apartments, probably owned by the same people for the past forty years. However, your eyes didn’t wander much; as soon as you saw the sign for the shop, you didn’t need to look elsewhere.

Looking down at your phone, you saw you were just on time for your appointment. Not even that could bring down your nerves. This was your very first tattoo appointment, and you had no idea what to expect. Some of your friends had tattoos, and their stories ranged from pretty okay to frightening. With their help, you found Ink’d — your friend, Seonghwa, had recommended you to go to one of the tattoo artists there. After looking through his work on Instagram, you decided to reach out. He was accommodating to your needs even over email and asked you to come in today to see what he could do for you. Despite all of the help and how kind the artist seemed to be, you were still nervous.

As you stood in front of the tattoo shop, you debated on not going in. You could send an email to the artist and tell him that you were sorry, but you just couldn’t go through with this. It would be rude on such short notice, but you were practically shitting yourself in fear at the thought of having needles poke your skin with ink. The reflective surface of the doors mocked you, but you still couldn’t go in. The shop wasn’t big, but it didn’t need to be to get your attention. The walls were painted dark blue, and the sign that hung above the door was in the shape of a splotch of ink. In the middle of the sign, in big bold letters, it said INK’D. Great. Even the sign intimidated you.

You looked down at yourself, at your baggy pants and oversized sweater - anything to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Was it good enough for this place? You wouldn’t know until you walked inside. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open… but it didn’t open. On the handle of the door, it very clearly said ‘PULL’, something you had managed to miss. Pushing down the embarrassment for the sake of the tattoo you were about to get, you pulled the door open and walked inside.

The tile floors looked old like they had been there since the building was made. The edges of the pretty design were chipped, and a few places were missing entire tiles. It was a part of its charm. The walls, on the other hand, were newly painted white - but you couldn’t tell seeing as they were filled with frames. From floor to ceiling, there were paintings and pictures of all kinds covering the shop’s walls—posters of various artists, photos of artwork and clients, and photographs from abstract to realistic. Your attention was suddenly drawn to the reception. A man with cherry red hair and a playful smile stood behind the desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked.

The first thing you noticed about him was how his eyes pierced your soul. His gaze was kind yet powerful, to the point where you almost wanted to look away. This look was only amplified by the thin layer of liner that lined his eyes. His bright red hair looked like it was slightly grown out, but it wasn’t long enough to cover the many piercings along his earlobes. Silver jewelry dangled from his ears, they matched the silver chain around his neck and the rings that adorned his fingers. The tight, black t-shirt he was wearing revealed his toned arms covered with ink. Delicate designs and images adorned his skin, and you could only imagine how many tattoos he had. A few peeked out from under his collar, but you couldn’t make out what the black ink on his neck was supposed to be. You could study this man for hours, but you had to answer him at some point.

“Uh… yes! Hi.” You approached the desk as you fiddled with the edge of your sleeves. “I’m here for an appointment… it should be under Y/L/N Y/N, I’m here to meet Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh, Y/N, hey…” He looked at his computer, the smile still playing on his lips. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Hongjoong.”

He looked up at you again, his eyes locking onto yours with that same piercing gaze that seemed to see right through you. A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt yourself growing weak in the knees. This was the man who was going to tattoo you? The thought of the needle was already enough to make your heart race, but now, you had to contend with the added pressure of trying not to make an absolute fool of yourself in front of the impossibly attractive tattoo artist.

His sharp jawline and the confident way he carried himself only added to your nervousness. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense your inner turmoil. He turned back to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard – his nails were painted black, the polish chipped around the edges and almost completely scratched off on some nails. The stark contrast against his fair skin was striking.

As he continued typing, you couldn't help but steal glances at his hands, wondering about the stories behind each stroke of polish. What kind of person was he outside of this tattoo parlor? Your mind raced with questions, each one adding another layer to the mystery that was this man.

When he finally turned back to you, a professional yet warm smile on his face, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “First tattoo, right?” he asked, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“Yeah, it is.” You nodded and looked around the shop while Hongjoong kept typing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a tattoo shop before.”

“Is that why it took you so long to get in?” he said in a teasing tone.

You looked back at him, only to see him grinning. His smile was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly despite your nerves. In his hands was a clipboard with a paper on it, which he handed to you along with a pen. Your eyes widened as you realized that the glossy, dark walls were actually windows, through which he could very much see outside. The realization added a new layer of vulnerability to your already jittery state.

“Sorry, I’m just teasing,” he quickly added, his voice softening. “I get that you’re nervous. So, why don’t you fill this form out, and then we’ll talk over what we’re going to do today? Does that sound good, love?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the unexpected pet name, and instead of a coherent answer, an awkward cough escaped your lips. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you clutched the clipboard to your chest, nodding quickly before making your way over to one of the couches in the waiting area. The soft leather cushions welcomed you, and you sank into them, wishing you could stay there instead of going through with your appointment.

With a sigh, you placed your bag beside you and began to fill out the form. Your hands trembled slightly as you scribbled your name, date of birth, and other required details. The background noise of the shop – the hum of the tattoo machines, the low murmur of other conversations, and the soft rock music playing in the background – started to blend into a soothing symphony, helping to calm your racing heart.

You glanced up occasionally, watching Hongjoong as he moved confidently around his workspace. There was something mesmerizing about the way he carried himself, a blend of focus and ease that only came from years of experience. It was reassuring to know you were in capable hands.

As you continued to fill out the form, your mind wandered to the design you had chosen. It was something personal, a symbol of strength and transformation that you had wanted for years. Now, on the brink of making it a permanent part of you, the mixture of excitement and apprehension was almost overwhelming.

When you finally finished the form, you took a deep breath and stood up, clutching the clipboard as if it were a lifeline. You made your way back to Hongjoong, who looked up from his computer with a reassuring smile.

“All done?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, handing him the clipboard. “Yeah, all done.”

“Great,” he said, scanning the form quickly before setting it aside, and he looked through them before giving you a pleased smile. Maybe it was your nerves, but your heart jolted at his smile. You wanted – no, needed – to please him like that again. “Let’s go to my studio and get started, yeah?”

His studio had the same intricate, patterned tiles on the floor as the waiting room, their glossy finish reflecting the ambient light and adding a touch of elegance to the space. However, the walls were painted a deep, matte black, providing a stark contrast that made the room feel both intimate and edgy. The black surface served as a canvas for vibrant spray paint art – swirls of neon colors and abstract designs that burst forth with energy and creativity. Interspersed among the graffiti were various posters, some showcasing famous tattoos, and others featuring artwork from local artists, lending a personal touch to the décor.

In one corner of the room, a small, well-organized desk sat neatly against the wall. On its surface were a sleek laptop, a modern desk lamp casting a warm glow, and a few neatly stacked papers. The desk exuded a sense of efficiency and order. Beside it stood a modest chair, perfectly pushed in and out of the way, maintaining the room's open and uncluttered feel.

The focal point of the studio was undoubtedly the tattoo chair, positioned prominently in the middle of the room. It was upholstered in smooth black leather, looking both comfortable and professional. Adjacent to it was a matching black leather stool, presumably for Hongjoong to use while working. Next to the chair stood a metal cart, meticulously organized with an array of tattooing materials – inks in a spectrum of colors, sterilized needles, and various other tools of the trade, all within easy reach.

The room was imbued with a sophisticated aroma that hinted at luxury and care. The air was filled with the delicate scents of bergamot, blackcurrant, and jasmine, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and intoxicating. You couldn't quite tell if the source of this enchanting fragrance was the candle burning softly on his desk or Hongjoong's own cologne. Either way, the scent wrapped around your senses, creating a foggy, almost dreamlike state as you took it all in.

Hongjoong moved closer to you, his presence both reassuring and electrifying. The scent intensified as he approached, enveloping you completely and making everything else fade into the background. His hand hovered right behind your upper back, guiding you towards the tattoo chair.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “You can sit down right here and we’ll discuss what I can do for you today.”

He took his laptop from his desk and sat down on the stool next to you. You jumped onto the tattoo chair, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Looking down at the floor, you saw Hongjoong’s polished leather boots next to your beat-up sneakers. Everything about him was somehow messy and pristine at the same time — delicate and coarse.

“You got my design idea, right?” you asked to break the silence.

“I did. It’s pretty.” He looked up at you with a friendly smile. “I took the liberty of drawing something up with it as inspiration, do you want to have a look?”

Before you could respond, Hongjoong turned the laptop so that you could see the design. It was a lotus flower, just like your reference picture, and connected to it were elegant, curved lines that stretched out a few inches away from it. It looked like small water droplets were attached to the flower and lines, some of them falling freely.

“What do we think?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured and leaned in closer. “Your art style is so graceful.”

“You’d be the first to say that.” He let out a laugh and pulled the laptop away from you. “This is a little further away from what I usually do. But this suits your tastes, right?”

“Definitely.” You nodded and watched him gather a few things.

“And it’s going to sit right by your hip?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll go ahead and print out a stencil for you. How big do you want it to be?” He put his hands up and measured in the air. “About this big?”

“That looks good,” you answered.

“I’ll get that sorted for you then, love.”

Hongjoong left you alone in his studio, and your muscles finally relaxed. When Seonghwa recommended him, he said nothing about how good-looking and charming he was. Now you wish that you had tried a little harder to get one of your friends to go with you. Being all alone with him only made you more nervous. When Hongjoong came back, he walked over to his desk and picked up his glasses. The thin black frames sat on the tip of his nose as he studied the stencil in his hands. With a proud nod, he showed you the stencil to get your approval.

“Good size?” he asked as he walked up to you.

“It’s good.” You nodded, your fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

He looked at you closely, inspecting your nervous fidgeting and the way your eyes flickered around the room. Sitting back on the stool, Hongjoong got right up next to you. The intoxicating scent made you dizzy again, and you put your hand beside you to stabilize yourself.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just a little,” you admitted with an awkward chuckle.

“That’s okay.” He motioned for you to lay down on the chair and you did as he said. “I’ll put the stencil on you, then you can take a look at it and tell me what you think. Is it okay if I pull up your sweater?”

You nodded and helped him move away your clothes. When the sweater was out of the way, you moved your hands to your pants. They already sat low on your hips, but you loosened the strings and pulled them down enough to expose the entirety of your hip bone. Hongjoong was talking as he put on the stencil, walking you through the steps as he was doing it. His soft voice calmed your nerves and seeing as you didn’t have to look directly at him, your heart started calming down as well. When he peels away the stencil, revealing blue lines on your skin, you look down at his hands.

“There you go, love.” He pushed up his glasses and looked up at you with a smile. “There’s a mirror over there, why don’t you go look at it and tell me if you like the placement.”

You hummed and carefully got off the chair. While you walked over to the mirror, Hongjoong prepared his station. The blue ink looked good against your skin, mostly because of the design. This is why you have been wanting to get a tattoo for so long. You smiled to yourself, looking past the nerves and bubbly feeling in your stomach that you got from looking at Hongjoong.

“It’s perfect,” you chimed.

You walked back over to the leather chair, which was now covered in a protective sheet. A bright smile was painted on your lips as you sat down in front of him again. Something sparkled in Hongjoong’s eyes just then, and you couldn't figure out what it was but you knew that you wanted to see it again.

“So… uhm…” He scratched the back of his neck and pretended to look for something. “Is the placement and size all good? You’re allowed to change anything, you know? I won’t be upset.”

His reassurance only made you more comfortable. The nerves that had made you want to puke just a few minutes ago, were now suddenly gone. Hongjoong looked back at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, still looking for an answer from you.

“Oh, yes. It’s good. I like it,” you said. “Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal.” He got closer to you, the wheels on his stool easily rolling over the ground. “You can lay back down and I’ll start as soon as you’re comfortable.”

He had black rubber gloves on now, a stark contrast to the delicate silver rings that lay on his desk. The rings, intricate in design, caught the light and glinted, a reminder of the careful preparation Hongjoong had undertaken for your session. His cart was meticulously organized, filled with the colors you had requested. Each ink bottle stood ready, a spectrum of possibilities waiting to be brought to life on your skin.

The tattoo gun in his hand looked like the tip of a small drill, its precision and purpose unmistakable. A medical-blue plastic wrap covered the cord attached to it, ensuring everything remained sterile. Hongjoong began to explain the process, his voice calm and reassuring, a professional easing the nerves of a first-time client. He gently pushed away your clothes, ensuring they weren’t in the way, his movements careful and considerate. The touch of his gloved hands was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt spreading from your core.

You couldn’t help but focus on the way he was inspecting the skin where your stencil was placed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed the area, ensuring everything was perfect before beginning. Your breath caught in your throat, the moment feeling surreal and significant. His red hair, vibrant and striking, hung slightly over his eyes despite his efforts to push it back. The black roots of his natural hair had started growing out, a subtle detail that you could only notice from this close proximity.

He looked up at you then, and your eyes met. Behind his glasses, his gaze was intense and focused, yet there was a softness there that put you at ease. His eyes, framed by the sharp lines of his glasses, seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a silent communication that everything was going to be alright.

“Does that sound good, love?” he asked.

“Sorry?” You had forgotten to listen to what he was saying.

“I’m going to give you a warning before I put the needle on your skin,” he repeated. “Does that sound good?”

“Yeah, it does…”

You leaned your head back against the chair and shut your eyes tightly. Hongjoong warned you that he was going to start, and you clutched the bunched-up fabric of your sweater tighter. It wasn’t comfortable, of course, but it didn’t hurt as much as you expected.

Hongjoong worked fast, and when he was halfway done he asked if you needed to take a break. You agreed as you were starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Could you hand me my bag?” you asked shyly.

Your bag was hanging by the door, and Hongjoong quickly walked over to it and picked it up for you. While you pulled out your water bottle and an energy bar, Hongjoong massaged his wrist. He looked over at you with the same playful smile he had worn when you first walked in.

“Do you have friends with tattoos or something?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“No, it’s just… you seem to know what to do despite this being your first tattoo.” He sat back on his stool, right by your side. “You know Seonghwa, right?”

“He’s the one who recommended that I should go to you.” You nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t even know he had tattoos.”

“Well, I think he only recommended me because we’re friends,” he said and your eyes widened. “He has a tattoo on his back, but I didn’t do that one for him.”

“Seonghwa never told me you were friends…” you muttered, wondering why he had refused to come with you if he was friends with the tattoo artist. You put away your things and dropped your bag by the side of the chair. Hongjoong took the hint and got ready to get back to work.

“I’m sure he just didn’t think of telling you,” he muttered. “He texted me last night to tell me you were nervous about the appointment.”

His words hit you like a bag of bricks. Not only was Seonghwa friends with this guy, but he was also texting him about you. Maybe that was why Hongjoong had been so friendly from the beginning. You had the feeling that he had a constant natural charm, but his comforting words and kind smiles had made you think that maybe you were receiving special treatment for reasons other than friend-nepotism.

“Is it okay if I start again?” Hongjoong’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you mumbled and closed your eyes as he put the needle into your skin again.

At the end of your session, the skin around your hip felt raw and sensitive, a testament to the meticulous work that had just been done. Hongjoong gently wiped off your skin with a wet paper towel, the coolness providing a brief respite from the heat and discomfort. His touch was careful, almost tender, as he ensured that no excess ink or blood marred the final reveal of your new tattoo.

"Go take a look in the mirror," he said, his voice soft and encouraging. You nodded, taking a deep breath before gingerly sliding off the chair. Your legs felt slightly shaky, both from the adrenaline rush and the prolonged stillness of the session. As you steadied yourself, you could feel Hongjoong's reassuring presence nearby, ready to assist if you needed it.

With cautious steps, you made your way over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. The anticipation built with each step, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. When you finally stood in front of the mirror, you took a moment to compose yourself before lifting your shirt slightly to reveal your hip.

The fresh lines of the tattoo contrasted beautifully against your skin. Despite the slight irritation that surrounded the new ink, the design was incredibly striking. The intricate details and vibrant colors were even more stunning than you had imagined.

“This is gorgeous.” You gasped and turned back around to Hongjoong.

With your sweater still bunched up you showed him the piece with a small smile, as if he hadn’t been looking at it for the past few hours. Still, he approached you and crouched down a little to inspect it. He wore a small, giddy smile; you couldn’t help but think that for someone who looked like he could kill you with a single glare, his mannerisms were awfully cute. After giving you a proud nod, he backed away from you.

“Some of my best work,” he commented. “Do you mind if I take a picture of it and put it on my Instagram?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

Hongjoong went to look for his phone and you stayed in the same position, with your sweater still bunched up and your pants almost falling off due to the strings being untied. It was an awkward position, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to move yet. Hongjoong soon came back with his phone in hand and crouched down right in front of you to take a picture of your hip and waist.

“Thank you.” He stood back up and inspected the photo as you put your clothes on properly. “Oh, hold on– before you put everything back on, I have to wrap it up for you.”

You froze as you were about to pull on the string of your pants, and Hongjoong let out a panicked laugh as he went over to the cart with materials. He took out a roll of some white plastic with green stripes in a criss-cross pattern and a big blue line in the middle of it. When he came back to you, he measured it to the size of the tattoo before he cut it off.

“This is Second Skin,” he said and parted it open in the middle of the blue line. “It’ll feel a bit weird, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.”

He pulled off a top layer and pressed the now sticky side to your stomach. His hands were warm now that he didn’t have the rubber gloves on. A shiver sent down your spine as he smoothed out the plastic against your skin. After he expertly pulled away another plastic layer, the Second Skin lived up to its name - you barely felt it. You were much too distracted by the loss of Hongjoong’s hands against your abdomen.

“I’ll give you some more of this stuff so that you can reapply it yourself after twenty-four hours. Then you’re going to want to leave this on for three to five days, and then peel it off under running water. It’s not difficult at all, just take one of the top corners and slowly take it off,” he explained as he examined his application. “You might get some ink bubbles in there, that’s fine you can just leave it- and if your skin gets red where the plastic is applied, that’s normal too. If you’re unsure, you can always just send me an email.”

You hummed and turned back to the mirror, inspecting the now plastic-covered tattoo. You caught Hongjoong’s eyes on you in the mirror, but he wasn’t looking at the tattoo. He was just looking at you - all of you. However, his eyes quickly diverted as he saw that you had caught him in the act.

“Thank you,” you said as you went back to tying the strings to your pants. “I really love it.”

“I’m glad,” he answered. “Listen, I’ve got to go out to the reception- but take as long as you need to get yourself ready. We’ll handle the payment as soon as you’re done, and I’ll get you some more Second Skin and a lotion you can use at home. On the house.”

“Oh, no- I’ll pay for it, I don’t mind,” you argued.

“You’re Seonghwa’s friend, he’d get mad at me if I didn’t.” He walked towards the door to give you some privacy. “Besides, it’s your first tattoo- I have to give you some incentive to come back.”

As if you didn’t have enough reason to come back already…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next few days, all you could think about was your cute tattoo artist. Hongjoong's comforting atmosphere, his pretty smile, and his charming words were plaguing both your waking and sleeping hours. His presence lingered in your thoughts, like a sweet yet torturous melody you couldn’t escape. During the day, you found yourself daydreaming about his soft eyes and the way he had meticulously worked on your tattoo. At night, your dreams were filled with his voice, his touch, and the mesmerizing red of his hair. It was as if he had left an indelible mark not just on your skin, but on your mind and heart as well.

Conversations with your friends became dominated by your incessant musings about him. "I can't believe I didn’t ask for his number," you would lament, your frustration palpable. Your friends, patient at first, were growing tired of your constant complaints. Their sympathetic nods were starting to turn into exasperated eye-rolls. "Just ask Seonghwa for his number," they would suggest, not realizing that this simple solution was a source of internal conflict for you.

Seonghwa was the one person you hadn’t confided in about your infatuation. Now that you knew he was friends with the red-haired man, you didn’t dare tell him a thing. The thought of revealing your feelings to Seonghwa filled you with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. When he asked how your tattoo appointment went, you kept your response strictly about the tattooing process, carefully avoiding any mention of the charming artist who had captured your heart.

A week had passed since your tattoo appointment, and you found yourself in a bar with your friends, trying to shake off the haze of infatuation that seemed to follow you everywhere. The Second Skin had been removed, revealing your tattoo in all its healed glory. Despite the itchy phase that had begun, you did your absolute best not to scratch or touch it, knowing how crucial this period was for the healing process. Each prickling sensation on your hip served as a reminder of Hongjoong, making it even harder to move on.

You nursed your drink in your hands, staring into the glass with sad, distracted eyes. The ambient chatter and laughter of the bar did little to lift your spirits. As your friends' conversation ebbed, they noticed your slumped shoulders and the faraway look in your eyes.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about him again.” One of your friends groaned.

“They can’t help that they have a crush!” Another one defended you.

You looked up at all of them. They quieted down as you opened your mouth to say something. However, you quickly shut your mouth again and went to chug your drink instead. The glass hit the table as you finished it, and you hissed at the feeling in your throat.

"Hey, you okay?" one of them asked, their voice tinged with concern.

You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"About him again?" another friend teased gently, though their eyes were sympathetic.

You sighed deeply, swirling the liquid in your glass. "I just can't get him out of my head. It's like he's everywhere I turn."

"Maybe it's a sign," one friend suggested. "Maybe you should just go back to the shop and see him again. You know, for a touch-up or something."

The idea sent a jolt of both excitement and fear through you. The thought of seeing Hongjoong again was intoxicating, but so was the fear of making a fool of yourself. "I don't know," you murmured. "I don’t want to come off as desperate."

"Desperate? No way. You’re just interested. There's nothing wrong with that," another friend chimed in. "Besides, from what you've told us, he seemed pretty interested in you too."

“Just go back to the shop and ask him out. If you won’t ask Seonghwa for help, you have to help yourself.”

Their words gave you a flicker of hope, though your insecurities quickly tried to snuff it out. "Maybe," you conceded, taking a sip of your drink.

As the night went on, you continued to ponder their advice, your mind a whirl of possibilities and anxieties. The itch of your healing tattoo was a constant reminder of the artist who had given it to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if fate was nudging you to take a chance.

A couple of days later, you were standing outside of INK’D once again. You had even dressed up for the occasion, which now felt a little pathetic. Nevertheless, you walked up to the door and pulled it open. It looked exactly as it had the last time you were there, which shouldn’t be a surprise since it hadn’t been that long. Glancing around the shop, you couldn’t find Hongjoong anywhere. Until you heard his laugh, you were starting to think that he wasn’t even there.

Your eyes immediately followed the sound of his gentle laugh. Behind the reception, stood Hongjoong as he talked with a customer. The shop hadn’t changed, but Hongjoong certainly had. His hair was now shorter and bleach blond, he had a new eyebrow piercing that matched his other silver jewelry, and you could swear that he had gotten even more tattoos - but maybe that was just because he wore a more revealing shirt. The customer on the other side of the desk was a gorgeous woman, who looked to be just a few years older than you. Her arms were also covered in tattoos, and her hair was dyed a fiery red almost like Hongjoong had before. The two of them were leaning against the counter, talking about something that was apparently very interesting - seeing as Hongjoong’s eyes were completely transfixed on her.

You felt stupid in your cute crop top and midi-skirt, feeling the need to hide the single tattoo that you had purposefully left exposed earlier - being surrounded by people who had tattoos all over their skin somehow made you feel self-conscious of only having one, almost to the point that it would’ve felt better to have none at all. The customer paid and left. You were about to follow her out, but it was too late. Hongjoong had spotted you.

“Y/N, you’re back!” he said as you reluctantly approached the counter. “Is everything okay? Is the tattoo healing as it should?”

He looked a little worried, and it hit you that coming in unannounced like this may cause suspicion. This was the last thing you wanted. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and an anxious clump building up in the back of your throat.

“Oh, the tattoo's fine, really, it's just a little itchy right now—well, more than a little, actually—but I know that's part of the process and I'm trying my best not to scratch it, even though it's really tempting. You said it would be like this while it heals, right? So I'm not too worried, but I can't help feeling a bit anxious about it. I'm just reminding myself it's normal, and honestly, I can't wait to see how it looks once it's fully healed," you rambled but stopped as you saw Hongjoong smiling at you.

His eyes were warm and gentle, but his smile was playful. It was a cruel combination of features to put on such a kind man. Why did everything about him have to leave you speechless? Your long pause caused Hongjoong to speak up.

“Did you come in to book another appointment then, or what’s up?”

He leaned against the counter again, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. The new hair suited him, although it looked like it had gotten a little damaged. Still, he looked just as pretty as last time, and you felt your words get caught up in your throat. You couldn’t ask him out, not now or ever.

“I wanted to…” You looked over at a sign about drop-in piercings that stood on the counter, standing there like your savior. “...get a piercing.”

The words came out of you before you could process them. You had been thinking of getting another piercing soon, but you had no plans on doing it today. However, it was the only way for you to get out of the awkward position you were about to put yourself in.

“Ah, really?” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you almost thought he looked disappointed for a second. “Well, our piercer is out for lunch at the moment, so you’d have to wait for a while- that is if you don’t mind that I do it. I’ve done piercings before, but it’s been a while.”

“I don’t mind.” You heard yourself saying. To be fair, you were only there to see him - so having him pierce you maybe wouldn’t be so bad.

So there you were. Back in Hongjoong’s room, sitting on his leather tattoo chair. This time it was lower to the ground, allowing him to get closer to your head. You had decided on another ear piercing, adding to the ones that were already there. Hongjoong had stepped out to get his coworker’s equipment, and you were left alone with your thoughts. The prickly feeling under your skin wouldn’t go away, no matter how many deep breaths you took. You had one thing to do today, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it. Technically, you didn’t even have the money for a piercing - the tattoo was supposed to be the thing you treated yourself with after working so much lately, so you had only budgeted for that. You were lucky that the piercings weren’t as expensive.

“Alright, this should be all that I need.” Hongjoong snatched you out of your thoughts as he slipped back into the room.

He organized his station on the rolling table beside your chair. You watched his ringed fingers, admiring his pretty painted nails - wondering if he made the cute designs on them himself. His hands moved quickly and steadily, his eyes analyzing the different items he had brought with him. Despite saying that he hadn’t done this in a while, it certainly looked like he had. Everything about him was authentic, in a way that was both comforting and intimidating.

“Nervous?” he asked. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m just thinking,” you admitted, and he turned to you with a piqued interest.

“Want to share what’s in that pretty little head of yours, then?” The words came out of him so naturally that it almost felt wrong that your body had such a strong reaction to them.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Work mostly,” you lied and looked down at your dangling feet as you desperately tried to find another subject to talk about. “Does this piercing hurt a lot?”

“It’ll sting,” he admits and looks up at you with that warm smile of his. “But I’ll be gentle, love.”

If Hongjoong wasn’t staring right at you, you’d clutch your chest and lean back against the chair at his words. Instead, you’re gripping the edge of the seat, and hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s got such an effect on you. An “okay,” that sounded more like a peep than a word, came bubbling up your throat, and Hongjoong stifled a laugh at, what you could only assume was, your innate ability to make a fool out of yourself.

“I’m going to puncture the skin with this.” Hongjoong held up a needle to you. “And then I’ll push in this piercing.” He showed you a simple stud that matched the rest of the metals you were wearing. You nodded carefully, giving him a worried glance. It has been a while since your last piercing and even though you knew you had nothing to be scared of, you couldn’t help but be irrational. Hongjoong notices your nervous state and puts his hand on your knee. His palm is warm, burning through the material of your midi skirt.

“You’ve got this.” That was all he said before he stood up beside you.

His head was right by yours as he angled the needle against the ink dot he had placed on your skin earlier. You could feel his breath against your skin, his warmth radiating from his chest. This man had to secretly be a radiator with the amount of heat he was giving off. You closed your eyes as the tip of the needle made contact with your ear.

“Ready?” Hongjoong asked.

“Yeah,” you murmured back.

The needle prodded through your skin, and it stung just as he said it would. A quiet gasp flew out of you as he pierced through your ear. Hongjoong left the needle and grabbed the small stud again.

“You’re doing so good,” he mumbled as he fidgeted with the earring. “I’m almost done, love.”

You took a deep breath and Hongjoong got back to work. Before you knew it, you had a new piercing.

Your right ear was burning ever so slightly as you were making your purchase at the front desk. You found yourself frequently trying to touch your ear, and then quickly putting your hand down again at the sight of Hongjoong’s warning glare. His small talk had quieted down as you pushed in your code to complete the transaction. The lack of words exchanged only made the air feel more stuffy. When the receipt rolls out of the machine, Hongjoong quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Your hand brushes against his as you take it, and sparks are sent flying through your bloodstream. This was your last chance to ask him out…

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he said with a wink, and your words got stuck in your throat.

“Thanks!” you squeak out before turning on your heel and all but bolting out of the tattoo shop.

That night, you met up with your friends at your usual bar, sporting new earrings but still no love confession to speak of. Your friends were almost more annoyed with you than you were with yourself for the lack of action. As soon as you told them the story, they all groaned in unison, a chorus of exasperation that filled the dimly lit space.

"You've got to be kidding me," one of them said, shaking their head. "What happened this time?"

“I said ‘Thanks!’ when I left, like an idiot.” You groaned and put your head in your hands.

“What? How is that bad?”

You tried to explain, telling them how Hongjoong was just out of your league and how you didn't have the guts to ask him out. They weren't having it, though. They kept trying to hype you up, their voices a mix of encouragement and frustration. "Come on, you can't give up now!" one urged, while another complained about your tendency to chicken out.

Drinks were downed in rapid succession, the alcohol fueling your emotions. Tiny shouts of anger and regret burst from your lips every so often, punctuating the lively conversation. Each time you vented, your friends would nod sympathetically or roll their eyes, depending on how many times they'd heard the same lament.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to a night of self-pity, you saw Seonghwa walking towards your table. Your body reacted on its own, your hand shooting up to point at him. In your slightly inebriated state, your finger ended up pointing slightly past him. One of your friends quickly helped you correct your aim, turning your arm toward the startled man.

"You know Hongjoong!" you blurted out as if this was news to him.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day?' 'Was work okay?' You have to relax," he said, his tone gentle as he sat down on the chair in front of yours. "I heard that you didn’t ask him out."

You felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. "Do you know when his next shift is?" you asked, ignoring his attempt to make small talk.

Seonghwa sighed, a mix of amusement and mild frustration. "In two days, I think... why?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I'm going back," you declared, mostly to yourself but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I won’t chicken out this time!"

Your friends erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable. "That's the spirit!" one of them exclaimed, raising their glass in a toast. "To not chicken out!"

Seonghwa smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Just be yourself," he advised, his voice kind. "Hongjoong's a good guy."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The night continued with more drinks and lively conversation, but this time, there was a spark of hope in your heart. As the evening wound down, you found yourself thinking about what you would say to Hongjoong, rehearsing possible scenarios in your mind.

When you finally left the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief. Your friends hugged you goodbye, their encouragement ringing in your ears. "You've got this," they assured you, their support unwavering.

You regret your words as you stand in front of the tattoo shop, two days later. Nevertheless, you’re determined to do it. Partially because it was about damn time, but also because Seonghwa had relentlessly teased you about not being able to do it, and now you can’t face him ever again if you fail. You haven’t had a date in at least a year, and this was the first guy in real life you’d found remotely attractive since then. He was attractive, kind, and just your type. It was now or never—you just had to go for it. With what you hoped were confident steps, you walked up to the door and swung it open... only to find the shop empty. The sound of someone rustling around in the back rooms caught your attention.

“Hello?” you called out, walking up to the receptionist's desk.

“Just a second!” It was Hongjoong’s voice, coming from further inside the shop.

Sure enough, Hongjoong walked out of his tattoo room thirty seconds later. His hair was still a blond mess, but now he was wearing a perfectly fitted, black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. If you hadn’t been able to restrain yourself, your jaw would be on the floor. He wore a customer service smile, which faltered at the sight of you, turning into a genuine grin. He walked up to the reception with a spring in his step.

“Getting multiple things done in a week, huh?” he said, a playful look in his eyes. “Are you a masochist or something?”

The previous confidence you felt transformed into a ball of shame in your chest. You couldn’t look him in the eyes as your face grew hotter and hotter. Hongjoong noticed your freak-out and immediately went into panic mode himself.

“Oh shit—I'm sorry, I don’t know why I said that. That was too far—”

“It’s okay—”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“I’m not offended—”

“Please don’t take this as a bad reflection of the shop, I don’t know why—”

“I came here to ask you out.”

The words flew out of you without warning, catching both you and Hongjoong off guard. They lingered in the air as the tension built up until it was thick enough to cut with a knife. The longer it took him to answer, the more anxious you were getting. With a soft, pitiful chuckle, you looked down at your shoes.

“Never mind,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry—it was stupid—”

“No, Y/N—”

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t feel pressured to say anything, please.” You looked back up at him and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for everything, I’ll be… I’ll leave.”

Without waiting another second to hear his response, you turned around and walked out of the shop, shame weighing down your shoulders.

For the next few days, you stayed in bed for most of the day, only going out to go to work or get groceries. You’d do anything to avoid your friends, and you were doing everything in your power to never see Hongjoong again. Have you planned on going to him for another tattoo sometime in the future? Yes, but that was out of the question now. The scene kept replaying in your head—his shocked expression and how poorly you had handled it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had made that big of a fool of yourself.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you kept replaying every detail of that embarrassing encounter. You wondered what possessed you to blurt out your feelings like that, why you hadn’t just played it cool or at least waited for a more appropriate moment. Each time you thought about it, a fresh wave of humiliation washed over you. Your friends' encouraging words now felt like cruel jokes. Why would he ever go out with you? It was stupid to even let your friends suggest that you should go for it.

Every time your phone buzzed with a message from Seonghwa or anyone else, you felt a pang of anxiety, worried it was another reminder of your failed confession. You avoided social media, not wanting to see anything that might remind you of Hong or the tattoo shop. Even the sight of your tattoo in the mirror was enough to send you spiraling back into regret.

Days blended into each other, each one marked by a series of small, mundane tasks that you performed on autopilot. The only solace you found was in the brief moments of distraction that work could provide. Yet, even in those moments, Hongjoong’s image—his smile, his kindness, and that playful glint in his eye—kept creeping back into your mind.

Why did it have to be so difficult? You’d always been so cautious, so careful with your heart, and now this one act of bravery—or foolishness—had left you feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before. The fear of facing rejection again loomed large, and you couldn’t bear the thought of putting yourself through that kind of pain once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On the seventh day, there was a knock at your apartment door. Thinking that it was the food you had ordered, you begrudgingly made your way to your door. To avoid having a stranger see the mess of a state you were in, you only opened it far enough for someone to pass the bag of food to you. A perfectly manicured hand wrapped around the side of your door and pulled it all the way open.

“Seonghwa!” Your eyes widened at the man in front of you.

“It’s been four days and you’ve declined all of our meetups,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. It wasn’t as if you had gone through heartbreak, or had broken up with a long-term partner, but Seonghwa always managed to get you to crack as soon as you were remotely upset. You threw your arms around him and sobbed against his chest.

“I fucked up, and he totally hates me now!” you wailed in between sobs.

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh and gently patted your back as he invited himself inside. While it was difficult to move around while still holding him, you refused to let go. Your friend stayed with you by your front door, patting your back and mumbling “there, there” every few seconds. After some time of crying, your sobs slowly dying down, there was another knock at the door.

“Food delivery!”

“Coming!” Seonghwa answered. “Go inside, okay? I’ll get that for you, and then we can sit down and talk.”

Seonghwa made himself a cup of tea while you ate your dinner. He hadn’t said anything since the delivery guy had left, and you were trying your best to ignore the tension growing from it. You could practically hear him thinking from where you sat on your couch. Seonghwa was simply watching you from the kitchen counter, where he was leaning and sipping his tea, and waiting for you to make the first move.

“I may have overreacted,” you finally said after finishing your plate. “But I don’t think I’ll ever see him again- just out of embarrassment, really.”

“So you asked him out and he said no?” Seonghwa approached the couch and sat down next to you.

“Well, not really…” You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to tell him we talked, right? I know you’re friends, he told me.”

“I know he told you.” He sighed and put down his cup on your coffee table. “And no, I won’t tell him anything. I’m your friend too, you know?”

“How can I be so sure when you didn’t even tell me that you have a tattoo?” you argued playfully. “How have you hidden a back tattoo from everyone?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he warned. “What happened? Did he say no?”

“Hasn’t he told you already?”

“I haven’t seen him since last week.”

“Oh…” You fidgeted with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing. “I walked in there, got nervous, and blurted it out like an idiot. He looked so shocked that I just walked out…”

“You didn’t even let him answer?” Seonghwa exclaimed.

You put your head in your hands with a big groan. Falling on your side, you put your head on your friend’s lap - silently asking him to pat your back again. Seonghwa put a hand on your shoulder, while the other played with your hair. You wanted so desperately to know his secrets to have his shit together, but you knew that he’d never tell you — instead, he’d just tell you that you’ll “figure it out.” Whatever that means.

“I just wanted to spare him from having to let me down,” you explained. “It was written all over his face.”

“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what that guy was thinking even if it actually was written on his face,” Seonghwa answered with another sigh. “I can talk to him for you if you want to.”

“You’re not my mom,” you said, “And he’s not my middle school bully.”

“No, you’re right, I’m your mutual friend who could settle this miscommunication…”

You sat back up, facing away from Seonghwa. Rationally, you knew that he was right and that you probably should try to smooth things over. However, you didn’t want to make it worse by not being able to do it yourself.

“I’m fine, I promise,” you muttered.

“Okay…” He stood up and walked over to your door. “Then you’re coming out with me tomorrow. At our usual place, around eight, okay? Dress up cute, you deserve to feel luxurious.”

“Fine.”

At eight PM the next day, you’re standing outside the bar where you’d promise Seonghwa you’d meet him. To make yourself feel better, you dressed up for the occasion - wearing the items in your closet that you never got a chance to wear otherwise. The cold crept in as the evening turned darker, and you were starting to regret your pretty but short dress. Lucky for you, you saw your friend walking up the street with long steps - it doesn’t take long for him to get to you.

“Sorry, I’m late- work, you know?” He immediately grabbed your arm and led you through the doors to the bar. “You look great.”

“Thank you?” You’re not sure he heard you as he pulled you through the loud crowd to your usual table in the corner, where someone was already sitting.

Your mouth fell open as you saw who was sitting in your usual seat. Hongjoong was looking right at you, just as shocked as he was the last time you saw him. His hair was still blond, mostly hidden under a beat-up, black cap that looked like he had decorated it himself—no manufactured cap could look so creative and authentically him. He stood up to greet Seonghwa, but his eyes never left yours. You couldn't tell if he was checking you out or questioning his decision to come here. You couldn't help but check him out; he was dressed more casually than you but still somehow outdressed you. The sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up, revealing tattoos that curled up his forearms, and his jeans were artfully distressed. Seonghwa all but forced you to sit down on the couch seat next to Hongjoong.

"I'll get us drinks!" Seonghwa shouted as he walked back into the crowd.

You hadn't had time to process what was happening, but as Seonghwa left, you were filled with embarrassment and pure rage—the latter almost overpowering the former. Almost.

"Hi," Hongjoong said, his voice a familiar blend of calm and curiosity.

He was sitting close enough to talk normally, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, just like when he had given you that piercing—a constant reminder of your embarrassment. Only a truly cruel creature would curse you with an uncomfortable new hole in your ear that you had to ever so carefully take care of, which, on top of everything, made you think about Hongjoong. However, considering that you had just been freezing, you welcomed his warmth, to the point where you had to keep yourself from leaning closer to him. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him was both comforting and disarming.

"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before either of you could speak any further, Seonghwa came back with two bottles of soju and two small glasses. He put them down in front of you, giving you both a look that could only be described as a parent telling their kids to make up after a fight.

"Talk." He pushed the bottles toward the two of you and took a few steps away from the table. "I'm not going to be your messenger."

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, a hint of panic in your voice.

"Home! To my cat!" He smiled and waved before disappearing into the crowd.

Hongjoong leaned back in his seat with a scoff, making you look over at him. His head was leaning back against the wall, and his eyes were shut tight as if trying to find some inner peace. Suddenly, he sat back up and picked up one of the bottles. As he opened a bottle of soju, he motioned for you to pick up one of the glasses. You did as he asked, and he poured you a shot, the liquid shimmering in the dim light of the room.

“Might as well, right?” he said.

“Right…” You nodded and put the glass to your lips.

“You look pretty.” His words made you choke on the liquid as it came down your throat.

Hongjoong apologized profusely as he patted your back while you coughed. You looked up at him with teary eyes, and the worried look in his eye changed to his usual playful look. The two of you broke out in laughter, the tension finally releasing you from its grasp.

“Off to a good start,” you said and picked up the bottle to offer to pour him a shot.

He accepted the drink, and the two of you took a shot together. Hongjoong’s knee was grazing against yours and, despite the burning sensation, you refused to remove it. As he put down his empty glass, he turned to you.

“I’m sorry about before,” he said, “I was going to say something- you just surprised me.”

“Please, it’s not your fault… I shouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.” You sighed as you poured yourself another drink. “I should know better than to assume your good customer service was flirting.”

“But I was flirting.”

You whipped your head to face him again. He was so casual about it, taking another drink before meeting your gaze. Hongjoong smiled as if he hadn’t just said what he had said, and you felt an overwhelming urge to disappear for at least a few months. The nonchalance in his expression, combined with the casual lift of his glass, made you feel like the ground had shifted beneath you.

“You were flirting?” you asked and looked down at your hands. “So I was overreacting this entire time?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly handle it great,” he countered. “I think you had every right to be upset by my reaction- even if it would’ve been nice if you had stayed to hear my answer first.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down to try to meet your lowered gaze. “We’re here now, right?”

You looked up at him, and he gave you a lopsided grin that you couldn’t help but return. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were just feeling butterflies in your stomach, nevertheless, your skin was tingling all over.

“Even if it was orchestrated by our friend,” you added.

“Yeah… can’t say that I hate him for it, though.” He turned to pour himself another drink, but you could see his shy smile.

“So?” you said, suddenly more confident as you leaned in a little closer to him.

“What?” He looked back at you, his nose inches away from yours.

“Would you go out on a date with me?”

“Sure. Wanna go now?”

That’s how you end up walking beside Hongjoong to a small restaurant that he had looked up just a few minutes earlier. It was close to the bar, but you were already freezing after just a few minutes. You glanced at the jacket hanging over Hongjoong’s arm - it felt a little cliché of him to have a leather jacket, but you suppose it’s part of his charm - and pray that he can sense that you’re freezing.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked.

“Not really,” he replied. “Are you?”

“A little,” you mumbled.

He picked up his jacket from his arm, and got your hopes up, only to put it down on the other arm - the one furthest away from you. Your brows furrowed slightly but before your brain could start spinning ideas, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He had given you a taste of his warmth before, but now it overflowed in you. You kept your eyes on your feet as you kept walking, and Hongjoong bent down to try to find your gaze.

“Warm?” he asked.

“Why’d you…” You couldn’t find any words, too engrossed in his embrace.

“What? Did you want my jacket?” He finally got you to look at him, and flashed you a teasing grin. “Cute.”

He must have been a little tipsy — as evident by the pink glow on his cheeks — because, while he had been confident before, you had never seen him so comfortable being a flirt like he was right now. Hongjoong let go of you and took his jacket to wrap around your shoulders. The jacket was heavy and his scent lingered on it, it was a constant reminder of what his hold would feel like. A while ago, you would’ve never believed that you’d be in this position - now that you were, it was almost overwhelming.

“The restaurant’s over there!” Hongjoong grabbed your hand and led the way, completely unaware of the effect he had on you. “Let’s go!”

“Favorite color?”

“Red and yellow.”

“Really? Not black?”

“I like colors, too.”

You hummed and picked up another fry. The restaurant Hongjoong had found was a cute 50s-themed diner - the kind with big milkshakes and long, plastic menus. It was late, and this had been the only thing open that you didn’t need a reservation for. The milkshake you shared was almost gone, and the fries were half-eaten and getting cold. Both of you stuck out in your colorful booth - you for being so dressed up, and Hongjoong for being dressed in all black. It wasn’t the kind of date you’d brag to your friends about, but you were still having a good time.

“What is your…” Hongjoong leaned back and paused to think of his next question. “... favorite ice cream flavor?”

The two of you had been going back and forth, asking each other banal questions to get to know each other better - getting through the questions quickly “to make up for lost time,” as Hongjoong had put it.

“Hm… that’s hard,” you muttered. “I do like mint-choco–”

“No…” Hongjoong groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in disappointment. “You’re seriously into chocolate and toothpaste?”

“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste!” You giggled. “You can’t judge me, you like minions.”

“They’re cute!”

“They’re horrible!” you countered.

“Maybe you just have bad taste.” Hongjoong ate another fry before meeting your eyes again, slightly more serious. “Except for tattoos, I think your design was really sick.”

You leaned against the table, the plastic sticking to your warm skin - just a few seconds ago you had been freezing, but now you could practically be the heat source for your entire apartment complex.

“It’s all you,” you said earnestly. “You really brought it to life.”

He leaned against the table with his forearms as well, his hand getting closer and closer to yours but his eyes never looked away from your face.

“If you keep complimenting me like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to seduce me.” His middle finger reached yours, and you swore you could feel sparks coming from where they met.

Maybe it’s the lighting, but you swear that his brown eyes go on forever. The lighting can’t make everything else disappear, though - that was just him. Hongjoong’s hand inched closer until it covered the back of your hand. The intricate tattoos on his hand were faded, but it made it seem more genuine. This feeling was dangerous, you knew that - but can’t you allow yourself one night of indulgence? As you were about to reply, the waitress came up to your table.

“Is everything alright over here?” she asked with a classic customer service tone, but her tapping foot told a different story from her bright smile.

“Yeah, thank you.” You sat back in your seat, pulling your hand with you and onto your lap - you could no longer look Hongjoong in the eye, not now when the spell was interrupted.

“Alright, just checking in,” the waitress continued. “Just to let you know, we close in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we were about to leave now anyway,” Hongjoong answered and stood up from his seat and put enough cash on the table to cover the cost of the food and a tip. “Can I walk you home, Y/N?”

You looked up at him as he held his hand out to you. With little to no hesitation, you grabbed the leather jacket by your side and took his hand. The two of you said goodbye to the waitress and thanked her, before quickly leaving the establishment.

Hongjoong walked you home, the two of you talking all the way to your apartment. You asked him about his practice, and he asked you about your plans for the future once you had told him you didn’t want to continue being a barista. His jacket was wrapped around your shoulders again, but now his hand was in yours - keeping you more than warm. The streetlights were illuminating your path toward your apartment complex, and you could already see the building in the distance. A sudden urge to slow your steps down struck you then - a need to slow time to make his presence last. Maybe it was his warmth or the way he laughed at every silly joke you said, but you couldn’t help but want to spend more time with him. You’re so lost in your world, that you don’t even realize that Hongjoong has quieted down - or that he’s staring at you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just tired,” you answered, almost too quickly.

“It’s late.” He nodded. “Where’s your place?”

“Just up ahead.” You pointed to your building and let your arm fall to your side again. “You don’t have to walk me all the way if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” He shrugged. “I liked spending time with you tonight.”

While his eyes were fixated on the building not too far from you, you took the time to study his profile. Enamored with the sharp lines of his face — his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones — you found yourself wanting to look at him for just a little bit longer; as if you had wasted so much time by looking away out of shyness. Before you knew it, you arrived at the door to your apartment complex and Hongjoong stopped walking.

“I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he promised as he turned to you with a boyish smile.

You almost wanted to ask him to come up to your place, but decided it would be too forward for a first date. If he had been anyone else you might’ve invited him up, but Hongjoong was the type of person you wanted to savor.

“Goodnight, then,” you said with a smile and started walking to the door.

“I’m glad that Seonghwa made me come out tonight,” he added quickly and you turned back to him. “Really glad.”

Within a few steps, you were right next to him again. Leaning towards him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek. He took your jaw in your hands, bringing you closer for a real kiss. It was short and chased, but you could feel the effort it took for him to break the kiss as the air around you became thick.

“I’m glad, too,” you murmured.

“Goodnight, then,” he mimicked you.

“Goodnight.” You gave him a last smile before turning around and walking into your apartment building.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few days passed before you saw Hongjoong again. During that time, you couldn't stop talking your friends' ears off about him—every conversation seemed to circle back to his smile, his style, and the way he made you feel. Your friends, exasperated yet amused, repeatedly urged you to ask him out on another date already. The only problem was that you still hadn’t gotten his number. Despite this, luck seemed to be on your side.

The late shift had been brutal. You were exhausted, every muscle in your body ached, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed. The chaos of the day had left the place in disarray, and cleaning up had taken what little energy you had left. As you dragged your feet towards the exit, you heard your name being called out.

You turned, slightly puzzled, to see Hongjoong standing beside a sleek red motorbike. You blinked in surprise, not having expected him to be the type to ride a motorcycle. The sight was jarring at first, but then you realized it actually fit perfectly with his whole aesthetic—edgy, confident, and effortlessly cool. His face lit up with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hadn't seen him in a while, and the sight of him brought a rush of mixed emotions.

"Hey! Need a ride home?" he called out, holding up a spare helmet.

“How did you know my shift ended now?” you questioned with an incredulous smile.

“I asked Seonghwa,” he explained with a shrug. “Thought, since I hadn’t seen you in a while, I’d offer you a lift.”

“You did?” You felt your face grow warm as he walked over to you. “That’s very sweet of you…”

“So can I?” he asked.

You had no clue what he was talking about, as you were too distracted by everything about him. Now that he had come a little closer, you could smell the faint scent of his intoxicating perfume. An urge to wrap your arms around him hit you then, and you had to press your nails into your palms to stop yourself.

“Can you what?” You looked up at him with big eyes.

“Drive you home?” He let out a small laugh that had your heart beating a mile per minute.

You blinked, processing the offer. "Uh, sure," you replied, your voice wavering with nerves and excitement.

Hongjoong's grin widened. "Great! Hop on."

Hongjoong walked back to the bike, got you a helmet, and helped you put it on. With shaky hands, you took the helmet and fastened it on, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Climbing onto the bike behind him, you hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. The engine roared to life, and you clung to him tightly as the bike sped off into the night.

The ride was a whirlwind of sensations. The cool evening air rushed past, the roar of the engine vibrated through you, and the warmth of Hongjoong's body against yours provided a strange comfort. Fear and exhilaration mingled as you held on, your heart pounding not just from the speed, but from the closeness to him.

When he finally pulled up in front of your place, you reluctantly let go and removed the helmet, your hair slightly tousled. Hongjoong turned to you with that infectious smile. He got off after you and walked you to the door of your apartment complex.

"Safe and sound," he said as you arrived at the door. "Hope the ride wasn’t too scary."

You shook your head, unable to suppress a grin. "No, it was... amazing. Thanks for the ride home, Hongjoong."

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. "Get some rest.”

It was a sure goodbye, but neither of you moved. You kept your eyes on him, and you couldn’t shake the building anticipation in your chest. A realization that you still didn’t have his number hit you—your eyes widened and you let out a soft gasp. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, as he watched you rummage around your bag. Finally, you pulled out your phone.

“I don’t have your number!” you exclaimed.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Hongjoong chuckled and took your phone in his hand.

The screen showed a new contact, and he typed his information into the small boxes. It only took a few seconds before he was done, and he handed you back the phone. “Tattoo guy,” it said in the box where his name should be.

“Tattoo guy?” You snorted. “Is that how you think I see you?”

“Okay wait, give it back. I’ll fix it.” Hongjoong chuckled and held out his hand.

You put the phone back in his hand, and he quickly typed something new in the name box. When you got your phone back it now said “Cute tattoo guy” instead. You smiled at the phone and looked back up at him.

“I’ll accept it.” You nodded.

“Good,” he said and paused to look at you. “I really want to kiss you again… is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

Hongjoong leaned down, capturing your lips with his for a chaste kiss that left you wanting more. Yet again, he didn’t give you more—but he smiled knowingly when he noticed how you chased after his lips.

“Call me?" he asked.

"Definitely," you nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at the prospect.

As you watched him ride off into the night, you couldn't help but feel a spark of something new and exciting igniting within you. The exhaustion of the shift faded away, replaced by a thrill.

After getting up to your apartment and getting ready for bed, you called him. You weren’t sure if he had meant “call me as soon as you can” when he had asked you to call him, but you didn’t know when else to call. Your heartbeat quickened with each ring before he eventually answered.

“Hello?”

You heard someone shushing other people in the background—maybe you were hallucinating, or it really sounded like Seonghwa.

“Hongjoong?” you asked.

“Hi, sweetheart!” You heard him shuffle to get up, the murmurs continued before you heard a door open and shut—the wind was now the only background noise.

“Am I interrupting something?” you mumbled.

“Not at all, I’m just with a few friends,” he explained. “I was going to step out for a smoke anyway, they’ll just have to deal with my absence for a bit.”

You heard the sound of a pack of cigarettes opening and a lighter being lit. With the nerves slowly disappearing, you lay down on your back on your bed.

“You smoke?” you asked.

“Is that a turn-off?” he answered with a question. “I’ll stop if it is.”

“No, it’s fine.” You giggled and turned over on your stomach. “I’ve just never smelt any smoke on you before.”

“I don’t smoke that much. I’m trying to quit,” he admitted. “... just not very hard.”

The sound of him taking another drag from the cigarette echoed through the phone, and you let out another small laugh. You felt like you were in high school again, your feet kicking in the air in a slow rhythm.

“Is there a special reason you called tonight, or do you just miss me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Ah, well… you said to call you and I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to…” you mumbled.

“You’re cute.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you called, actually. I wanted to ask you out on another date.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat as you listened to Hongjoong's voice on the other end of the line. You fumbled around on your bed until you sat up, trying to calm your nerves. Even though he couldn't see you, you quickly fixed your now messed-up hair, wanting to feel more presentable. His laugh echoed through the phone, and you found yourself smiling, but your hands still shook a little. Talking to him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine him right there with you.

“When?” you asked.

“I have a late appointment tomorrow,” he admitted. “But how about the day after that?”

“I could do that–” You hesitated and thought of your work schedule. “I have a shift until the afternoon, but I could meet you after.”

“Sounds great, I’ll pick you up after your shift. Just text me what time it ends and I’ll be there.” The sound of the door opening and the chatter from inside poured through the phone. Someone asked Hongjoong something and he told them to wait a minute. “Sorry, sweetheart, I have to hang up… text me later, okay?”

“I will,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said melodically.

You hung up with a big grin on your face. The only issue now was how you could ever fall asleep tonight.

The day of your date finally arrives. You finish your shift and eagerly text him the time you’ll be off your shift. True to his word, you spot him waiting for you outside your workplace on his sleek black motorbike, a charming smile lighting up his face as you approach.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you warmly, swinging off the bike to offer you a helmet. “Ready for a little adventure?”

You grin, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of riding with him. “Absolutely!”

You hop on behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he starts the engine with a low rumble. The ride to the rooftop bar is exhilarating, the wind tousling your hair and the city passing by in a blur of lights. Hongjoong navigates effortlessly through the traffic, occasionally glancing back to check if you’re comfortable.

Arriving at the rooftop bar, you dismount gracefully, a thrill still lingering from the ride. Hongjoong leads you inside through a discreet entrance, where soft, ambient lighting and the distant hum of conversation immediately set a sophisticated and intimate mood. It’s a casual bar, making your nerves about being underdressed disappear. The bar is adorned with modern decor, plush seating, and a breathtaking view of the city skyline twinkling in the distance.

“This place looks amazing,” you comment, taking in the cozy atmosphere as you settle into your seat at a secluded table.

“I thought you might like it,” Hongjoong replies with a grin.

A waiter walks up and talks to Hongjoong like they’re old friends. He introduces himself to you as Yunho and offers the two of you free first drinks. While Hongjoong tries to decline, Yunho is adamant that he wants to leave a good impression on the person who’s had Hongjoong so distracted lately. With that teasing remark, Hongjoong lets up. Yunho leaves with a wink to you, telling you that he’ll be back with drinks soon.

“I thought he’d be normal about this,” Hongjoond admitted with a sigh. “Sorry…”

“I think he’s nice,” you said and looked over at him with a sly smile. “... I distract you?”

“No– well, yes, but…” You’ve never seen Hongjoong stumble over his words like this before, it’s a sight you could get used to. “I was at Yunho’s place when you called the other day. They haven’t stopped teasing me about it since.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with a not-so-sorry smile but decided to change the subject to be lenient on him. “How do you know each other?”

“He’s in a band I’ve written a few songs for,” he explained. “I’ll take you to one of their gigs sometime if you want.”

“That sounds fun.” You stare at him quizzically. “You just keep revealing new secrets to me, I’m wondering what else you’re hiding.”

“What?”

“It’s just that… there’s so much I don’t know about you, and everything new I learn surprises me.”

You fidget with one of the napkins on the table. Hongjoong puts one of his hands on top of yours, finding his way to hold your hand. When you looked up at him, he was smiling—a smile that was more like a hug, comforting and soothing.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said. “Soon it won’t be very surprising.”

“I’ll be honest… I don’t know how you could possibly top being a smoking, bike-riding, song-writer.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

Before he can answer, Yunho comes back with the drinks. As you sipped your cocktails, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. You talked about music, discovering Hongjoong’s unique taste, and deep knowledge of various genres. The live band started playing soft, soulful tunes, their melodies blending seamlessly with the murmurs of other patrons.

At one point, Hongjoong leans closer, his voice softening. “I’m really glad we could do this,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Thank you,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a smile.

The night continued with laughter and meaningful conversation. Hongjoong suggested taking a walk along the rooftop’s edge, where you can feel the cool night breeze and admire the city lights below. You strolled hand in hand, the soft glow of the moon overhead adding to the enchanting atmosphere.

As the evening winds down, Hongjoong leads you back to his bike, helmet in hand. He helped you put it on with a gentle touch, the closeness making your heart race with anticipation. The ride home was quick, and Hongjoong drove carefully—although he only had one drink many hours ago, he told you that he didn’t want to risk it.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, overwhelmed with gratitude for the wonderful evening.

“It was my pleasure,” Hongjoong replied warmly, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Can we do this again soon?”

You nodded eagerly, already looking forward to the next adventure with him.

“I’ll text you,” he promised, leaning in to give you a tender kiss on the cheek before you parted ways.

You watched him ride off into the night again, a contented smile on your face. This night, filled with exhilarating moments, heartfelt conversations, and a touch of romance, has left you certain of one thing—Hongjoong is someone special.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The following week, you decided to surprise Hongjoong with lunch. He had mentioned offhandedly that he often didn’t have time to grab something to eat between appointments, and you figured a little gesture of kindness would brighten his day—and give you a reason to see him again. You had the morning shift, and at the end of it, you made the lunch of any leftovers that your boss wouldn’t notice if it went missing. As soon as the clock struck twelve, and your shift was over, you headed out.

As you approached the studio, you saw Hongjoong through the window, chatting with a customer. Your heart sank when you realized it was the same person he had been talking to the last time you were here. She was as gorgeous and intimidating as the first time you had seen her. They were laughing, and the way she leaned in closely sent a pang of jealousy through you.

You hesitated at the door, debating whether to turn around and leave. Just as you were about to retreat, Hongjoong glanced up and his eyes met yours. His face lit up with that familiar, infectious smile, and he immediately bounced over to the door, leaving the customer mid-sentence.

"Y/N! What brings you here?" he asked, genuinely pleased to see you.

You held up the lunch bag, trying to keep your tone casual. "I brought you lunch. You mentioned you didn’t have much time to get food, so I thought I’d help out."

Hongjoong's eyes sparkled with delight. "That’s so sweet of you."

He took the bag from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. The customer, now standing awkwardly by the counter, cleared her throat and gave a half-hearted smile before leaving the studio with a curt goodbye.

Hongjoong didn’t seem to notice the customer's departure or the slightly annoyed look on her face. Instead, he turned his full attention to you, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been flirting with him just moments before. Your eyes met his again after watching her leave.

"Was that jealousy I saw on your face just now?" he teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. "You looked like you were ready to storm out."

You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly shook your head. "No, I just... didn’t want to interrupt."

Hongjoong chuckled warmly, his laughter putting you at ease. "Well, I’m glad you did. This looks delicious." He peeked into the bag and smiled appreciatively. "Seriously, thank you."

You shrugged modestly, attempting to hide your nervousness. "It’s nothing. Just thought you could use a good meal."

His expression softened as he stepped closer. "It means a lot. Really. I’ll make sure to savor every bite."

His sincerity touched you deeply, and a warm feeling spread through your chest. "I’m glad," you managed to say, feeling a surge of happiness at his genuine appreciation.

Hongjoong leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. "You always seem to know how to make my day better," he confessed, his gaze earnest.

A flutter of butterflies danced in your stomach at his words. "I’m just happy to help," you replied softly, meeting his eyes with a smile.

He nodded, his smile widening. "Well, I’m grateful for it. And I owe you one."

Before you could respond, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, leaving you both comforted and excited for what might come next.

"I'd love for you to stay," Hongjoong said earnestly, his eyes reflecting a mix of sincerity and hope.

You hesitated, feeling a flutter of nerves despite the warmth his presence brought. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude..."

Hongjoong shook his head, his smile reassuring. "You wouldn't be intruding at all. I enjoy your company, and I'd love to share this lunch with you."

His sincerity melted away your reservations. "Okay then," you replied softly, smiling back at him.

He led you to a cozy corner of his office where he had already set out the lunch you had brought. You settled into chairs nearby, the familiar buzz of the studio outside muffled by the closed door.

As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily between you. You talked about his latest projects, your shared love for certain bands, and plans for the upcoming weekend. Hongjoong's passion for music shone through as he animatedly described his friend’s upcoming gig.

"You should come," he suggested, his eyes lighting up. "It’s going to be a great show, and I’d love for you to be there."

You considered it for a moment, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of experiencing another part of Hongjoong’s world. "I'd love to come," you replied warmly. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

His smile widened, a mixture of happiness and anticipation. "Great! I’ll send you the details later. My friends will love you, I’m sure."

As lunch drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave. The afternoon had been unexpectedly intimate and comforting, deepening the bond between you and Hongjoong. You were beginning to see glimpses of how well you fit together, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

"I should probably get going," you said, glancing at the time.

Hongjoong nodded, but his eyes held a hint of reluctance. "I understand. Thanks for staying. I always enjoy your company."

You smiled warmly. "Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time."

Walking out of the tattoo shop, you couldn’t help but replay the moments spent with Hongjoong in your mind. Each interaction seemed to reinforce the connection between you, leaving you eager for more shared experiences and conversations. As promised, Hongjoong texted you later with the details of his friend's gig. You replied with enthusiasm, already looking forward to the weekend and the chance to see him again.

Your heart raced with excitement and a touch of nervousness as you meticulously prepared for your next date with Hongjoong. After several wardrobe changes and a quick touch-up of makeup, you settled on your favorite outfit: a soft, flowy blouse paired with well-fitted jeans. The blouse, a delicate shade of lavender, complemented your complexion, while the jeans, perfectly worn-in, exuded a laid-back vibe. You added a few subtle accessories—a dainty necklace that caught the light just so, and a pair of earrings that added a touch of sparkle.

The anticipation bubbled within you as you imagined the evening ahead. It wasn't just about the outing itself but the chance to see Hongjoong in his element, surrounded by the music and energy that fueled his passion. You wondered what surprises the night might hold, eager to share more moments together and deepen the connection that had been growing steadily between you.

With a final check of your phone for any messages from Hongjoong, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Each step carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation, knowing that tonight would be another chapter in your unfolding story with Hongjoong—a story that seemed to promise more laughter, heartfelt conversations, and perhaps even a hint of romance.

When you arrived at the venue, the place was already buzzing with energy. The dim, moody lighting and the low hum of the crowd set the perfect atmosphere for a night of live music. Hongjoong had invited you to his friend's gig, and as you stepped inside, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between your outfit and the attire of the other attendees. The room was filled with people dressed in sleek black attire—leather jackets, ripped jeans, and boots. Hongjoong fit right in.

For a moment, self-consciousness crept in as you wondered if you had misjudged the dress code. However, Hongjoong's wide smile and warm hug dispelled any lingering doubts.

"I’m so glad you came," he said, taking your hand.

You returned his hug, feeling reassured by his warmth. "Wouldn't miss it," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off your initial uncertainty about your outfit choice.

Hongjoong glanced at your outfit, a playful glint in his eyes. "You look amazing," he said sincerely, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I love the pop of color—it stands out in the best way."

His compliment eased your nerves, and you found yourself relaxing in the vibrant atmosphere of the venue. As Hongjoong's friend took the stage, you settled in beside him, enjoying the electrifying energy of the crowd and the raw passion in the music.

As the concert started, the venue's atmosphere crackled with energy. Jongho, the charismatic singer; Mingi and San, the energetic guitarists; Yunho, the cool and composed bassist; and Yeosang, the talented drummer took their positions on stage. Wooyoung, who, despite not seemingly being a part of the band, was just backstage as Hongjoong pointed out to you. If only Seonghwa were here, the entire group would be together—and you were starting to notice why they were so close.

They launched into their first song, filling the air with pulsating rhythms and electrifying melodies. Not only was their music and stage presence impressive, their chemistry with each other was undeniable. The crowd around you danced and cheered, fully immersed in the music and the infectious excitement of the performance.

You stood beside Hongjoong, initially captivated by his enthusiasm and the way he effortlessly moved to the beat. However, as the concert progressed and the crowd grew more animated, you found yourself momentarily separated from him in the sea of bodies. Panic gripped your chest as you scanned the area, searching for his familiar figure amidst the shifting shadows and flashes of colored lights.

The dim lighting and the swirling mass of people seemed to conspire against you, making it difficult to pinpoint his location. Voices merged into a distant roar, blending with the thumping bass and reverberating guitar riffs. You pushed through the crowd, calling out his name in a mix of urgency and concern, your heart pounding in your ears.

Just as your anxiety peaked, a flash of bleach-blonde hair caught your eye in the crowd ahead. Relief flooded through you like a tidal wave as you hurried towards him. Hongjoong turned at the sound of your voice, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw you approaching.

"Hey! There you are," he exclaimed over the music, reaching out to take you by your waist and pull you in closer.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension drain from your body. "I was looking everywhere for you," you admitted, relieved beyond words to have found him safe and sound.

He chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement and affection. "Sorry about that. Got caught up in the music." He leaned in and spoke softly in your ear.

You couldn't help but smile back, the rush of emotions settling into a warm glow of contentment. "It's okay," you replied. "I'm just glad I found you."

He took your hand again, and this time, he didn’t let go. You moved through the crowd together, finding a spot near the stage where you had a great view of the performance. The band was fantastic, and you quickly realized why Hongjoong was so proud of his friends. Together, you leaned into each other, enjoying the rest of the concert side by side. The music continued to pulse through the air, weaving a tapestry of melodies that seemed to resonate with the newfound closeness between you.

After the set, he led you backstage—an area littered with dirty towels, instruments, gear, and a few empty beer bottles—a grin spreading across his face as he introduced you to everyone. "Guys, this is the person I’ve been telling you about."

They greeted you warmly, but it wasn’t long before the teasing began. Jongho was the first to speak up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, you’re the one who’s got Hongjoong all smitten?"

Mingi chuckled, nudging San. "Yeah, you don’t look like his usual type at all."

San nodded a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like our boy Hongjoong has developed a bit of a corruption kink, huh?"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you glanced at Hongjoong, who was trying to suppress a laugh. "Guys, come on," he said, shaking his head. "Don’t scare them off."

Yeosang joined in, trying to make up for the others’ drunken comments. "We’re just surprised. You look so sweet and innocent compared to his usual taste."

You felt a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a strange sort of pride. Despite the teasing, it was clear they cared about Hongjoong and were curious about you. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Don’t mind them," he whispered in your ear. "They can be jerks when they’re drunk."

You smiled up at him, feeling more at ease. "It’s okay. I can handle it."

Wooyoung clapped his hands together, grinning. "Alright, enough teasing. Let’s get to the after-party!"

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, music, and good company. Hongjoong stayed by your side, making sure you felt included and comfortable. As the night drew to a close, you realized how much you enjoyed being a part of his world and seeing him in his element.

When it was time to leave, Hongjoong walked you to the front door, his arm wrapped protectively around you. "Thanks for coming tonight," he said softly.

You smiled, leaning into him. "I had a great time. I like your friends."

He chuckled. "Yeah, they’re a handful, but they’re the best." You stood there for a moment, the night air cool and crisp around you. You wanted to say something else, to question what his friends had said earlier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Hongjoong drove you home, the hum of the engine and the cool night air doing little to ease the swirling thoughts in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Hongjoong’s friends had said. The teasing comments replayed in your head, making you wonder if you really were out of place in his life.

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, you hesitated before speaking. "Hongjoong, would you mind coming inside for a bit?"

He looked at you, concern etched on his face. "Of course. Let’s go."

He parked his motorbike and followed you inside the apartment complex for the first time. You led him up to your apartment, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. As you opened the door and stepped inside, you suddenly felt self-conscious about the cute decor—soft pastel colors, plush cushions, and delicate trinkets that filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the edgy vibe Hongjoong and his friends exuded—the very reason you were feeling so self-conscious.

He took in the surroundings with a smile. "Your place is really nice. It suits you."

You blushed, fidgeting slightly. "Thanks. I just... I know it’s not exactly your style."

Hongjoong stepped closer, his expression was serious yet gentle. "This isn’t about what the guys said, right? I think it’s great. It’s you."

You looked down, feeling a little better but still needing answers. "Well... they made me feel… Am I not your type?"

He sighed, running a hand through his bleached hair. "They were just messing around. I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable– it’s just that, they know me. They know how I was before you. In the past… I wasn’t always the nicest guy when it came to relationships."

You looked at him, curiosity and concern mixing in your gaze. "What do you mean?"

Hongjoong took a deep breath, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "I dated a lot, but I never really cared about anyone, I guess? It was all just fun and games to me.” He took a deep breath and looked at you with an overwhelming sense of worry. “But with you, it’s different. You’re different. I don’t want to mess this up."

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to ask. "Is that why you haven’t... you know... tried anything with me yet?"

He opened and closed his mouth again, unprepared for the question. "I just don’t want to scare you off. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with."

“Why would you scare me off?” you asked.

Hongjoong’s face turned red, and he looked down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly. His usual confident demeanor seemed to vanish, replaced by a shy vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. The blush creeping up his neck and the way he bit his lower lip were both endearing and unexpected, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken emotions.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "I'm a bit more... adventurous in bed than most… God, I can’t even explain it." He groaned and shut his eyes tight.

You blinked, processing his words. The vulnerability in his eyes confessed secrets to you that you hadn’t seen before, a part of him he had kept hidden. "You mean, like... more adventurous how?"

He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I like trying new things, pushing boundaries… I have certain… kinks. I understand if that’s not what you want– I think that’s what the boys were getting at, that you just don’t… you don’t look like the type to enjoy that, which is completely fine and–"

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, and Hongjoong’s rambling quieted down. "I appreciate you being honest with me. I want to understand you better, and… I’m willing to try some things."

His eyes softened. "Are you sure? You’re not just saying that, right? Because if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine– the last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable."

You nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I trust you… just go slow? Please?"

Hongjoong pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you close. "We’ll take it slow, I promise."

As you stood there in his arms, the worries and doubts from earlier began to fade away. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. From the way he was acting now, you couldn’t picture him being as rough as he seemed to be alluding to. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach, surprising yourself.

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Hongjoong cupped your face gently with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of his touch made your heart race.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. "Yes."

He leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your lips finally touching his. The kiss started out tender and tentative as if he was afraid of breaking the moment. His lips were soft and warm, and you melted into him, feeling the world around you disappear.

As the kiss deepened, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. The passion between you grew, the kiss becoming more urgent and fervent. His other hand slid down to your waist, holding you tightly against him.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the rest of the world fading away. All that mattered was the connection you felt with him, the electricity coursing through your veins. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

Hongjoong's eyes were dark with desire, his voice a low murmur. "Should we... go to your bedroom?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "Please."

You took his hand, leading him down the hallway to your bedroom. Your heart was racing when you finally reached the door and opened it. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, casting a gentle glow over the bed.

Hongjoong turned to face you, his expression tender yet intense. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

You smiled, placing your hands over his. "I'm sure."

He kissed you again, this time slower and more deliberate, savoring every moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you backed toward the bed. When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you sat down, bringing him with you—his knees on the bed.

Hongjoong's hands roamed over your body over the thin material of your blouse, exploring with a reverent touch. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers through you. He kissed along your jawline, down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

You leaned back onto the bed, pulling him down with you. The softness of the sheets contrasted with the firmness of his body above you. Hongjoong reached his hand to the buttons of your blouse, which he hesitantly unbuttoned—his lips staying on yours. You helped him take off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear. He pulled away from you and paused for a moment, looking down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. The soft lace of your bra and panties practically called out to him, and he delicately traced it with his fingertips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

You felt too naked staring at his clothed body. Once he noticed your nervous stare, he pulled off his shirt and shuffled out of his pants. You could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and you found yourself clenching around nothing at the sight. He smiled, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

“Is it okay if I take this off?” he murmured against your lips, breathless, as he played with the hem of your bra. As soon as you nodded, he unclasped it and let it fall off your shoulders. His lips immediately met your delicate skin, pressing soft kisses before marking your most sensitive areas.

“Hongjoong–” Your breath hitched in your throat as his tongue swirled around your nipple.

He paused, immediately looking at your face to make sure you were okay. When he saw your swollen lips and big eyes he smiled—unlike the sweet smile you’d seen so many times before, this time he almost looked wicked. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Is it okay if I tie your hands up, baby?” he asked gently.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Tie my hands up?”

“Yes.” He leaned back up and pressed a kiss to your jawline. “Against the headboard. I want to have you writhing underneath me.”

You nodded and whispered a yes when you saw Hongjoong’s stern gaze. While he picked his belt up from the floor, you moved over to the headboard. Without him saying a word, you put your hands up, putting your wrists near one of the railings of the headboard. You knew you had done the right thing when Hongjoong looked at you with a proud smile, and you pressed your legs together at the feeling it gave you.

“You’re so obedient,” he murmured as he went to tie your hands to the headboard. “It’s cute.”

Hongjoong carefully made handcuffs out of his belt and tied your wrists to the headboard. You couldn’t move your arms, but the belt was tied loosely enough for it to still be somewhat comfortable. He put two fingers between your wrist and the leather to make sure it wasn’t too tight. You could probably get yourself out, but you didn’t want to. Hongjoong stepped back to look at you, the wicked smile back on his lips. He got between your legs without another word, pressing his thumb against your clit over the soft material of your panties. You tried to close your legs, but he held them apart.

“Are you doing okay so far, baby?” he asked as he caressed your hips and looked at you with his familiar gentle eyes. You nodded. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay,” you murmured.

“Good.” He looked back down at your cunt, noticing the wet patch growing on your underwear. “I’ll keep your hands tied until I’ve made you cum twice… don’t cum without my permission.”

It was clear that he had thought about this before, and the thought of him lying awake at night picturing you in such a lewd position made you throb with need. You’d never noticed this side of you—a depraved part that you had apparently been keeping under lock and key. Hongjoong just had the talent of luring it out of you. When he looked back up at you again, his eyes were ever so slightly softer.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop immediately. No matter what. Okay, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” The title just came out of your mouth, you didn’t even process it.

Hongjoong didn’t say anything about it, but you could see in his eyes that he liked it—you did well. He laid down between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep them open. Before you could say another word, he pressed his tongue flat over your clothed pussy. You gasped at the sudden warmth, your arms straining against the restraints. Hongjoong groaned at the taste, and you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he pressed his nose against your core. Your heart was beating a mile a minute; you’d never seen someone react to you this way. With soft motions—too soft—Hongjoong began rubbing your clit over your panties. It was too slow and you could barely feel anything, your hips desperately bucking up to get more friction. From the look on Hongjoong’s face, this was apparently the point. He wanted to break you, just a little before you got what you wanted. He studied your expression, the way your eyes shut tight and eyebrows furrowed whenever he pushed down a little harder.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?”

“Take them off,” you begged, “I want to feel you.”

It was all it took for him to rid you of your panties, and you dutifully lifted up your hips to help him. Only a few seconds later, his tongue was on your cunt again—lavishing in how wet you had gotten from just a bit of teasing. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up. Your moans grew louder, your legs started shaking, and you pulled more and more on your restraints. Hongjoong kept studying you, keeping his eyes open and focused while eating you out. He stopped before you reached the edge.

“Why?” you whined.

“I told you not to cum without my permission,” he stated, matter-of-fact.

You whined and wiggled your hips. Hongjoong pushed them down with one of his hands, the other one caressing your side soothingly. “As long as you do as I say, you’ll feel good, baby.”

You nodded pathetically— whimpering out another “yes, sir,” which had the same effect on him as it did before. It was all he needed to dive back into your core. His tongue expertly lapped at your pussy, his eyes now closed in pleasure. As his tongue started prodding at your hole, his tongue bumping against your clit, you started grinding on his face. It wasn’t like you meant to do it, it just felt too good. With a stern arm, Hongjoong held you down. You wanted to do something—anything—your orgasm was building up in your stomach once again and you needed to move. You wanted to push your legs together at the overwhelming feeling, pull his head closer to you by his hair, and keep grinding against him all at once. Hongjoong was restricting all of your movements.

“Please, let me cum!” you all but shouted.

“Do it.” Hongjoong’s demand was simple. A low growl that you barely heard over the sound of your own wet pussy, but it had you unraveling there and then.

The sound of you pulling on your restraints was drowned out by your own moans as the coil in your stomach snapped. Hongjoong moaned against your core, the vibrations making your legs shake. You heard yourself murmur a “thank you, sir,” as Hongjoong helped you come down from your high by letting you rub against his palm.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised. “Just one more before I free your hands, alright?”

You hummed. Hongjoong slapped the inside of your thigh, the stinging sensation made you gasp. You looked at him with wide eyes, only to be met with a grin.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to use your words again, should I, baby?”

You shook your head, and then quickly added, “No, sir.” Hongjoong rubbed a soothing hand over the area where he had slapped you, and you melted into the touch. The feeling quickly disappeared, however, as his fingers reached for your core again. Your head became clouded as his fingers prodded at your entrance. Just one more, you repeated in your head. You wondered if he’d let you have his cock tonight—almost worried about it—and you let out a low whine. Hongjoong looked at you with concern.

“Are you going to… you know…” You looked at his arm, at the tattoos sneaking down to his hand which was still toying with your core. “Fuck me?”

Hongjoong’s hand faltered at your vulgar words, a smile broke out on his face. “Thought I’d save it for when you can touch me.”

There will be more? Your head was spinning at the thought. You were used to cumming once on your vibrator before going to sleep, too tired to go on by yourself. Cumming three times in a row wasn’t something you’d done in a while—if ever. If you had, you couldn’t remember.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he reminded you as his middle finger entered you.

After pumping the finger inside you for a while, he added another. He put his palm against your clit and let you grind against it while he kept thrusting his fingers into you—curling them against your g-spot, once he’d found it. While you were busy shutting your eyes tight at the stimulation, Hongjoong leaned up and captured one of your nipples in his mouth again. You gasped at the feeling—it was almost overwhelming. All of these sensations, and the promise of getting to have his cock inside you, were making you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you going to cum again, baby?” he coos at you, whispering in your ear, “I can feel you clenching around me.”

You let out a gasp that turned into a moan, as he started sucking on the sensitive spot right by your jaw. After managing to whimper out a confirmation, he ordered you to cum again. It was all you needed to release all over his hand. Your moans were drowned out by his lips on your again. His fingers slowed down, but he kept his hands between your legs until your movements stopped. Without another word, Hongjoong licked his fingers clean and helped you out of your restraints. As soon as you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head lay on his chest, and Hongjoong welcomed you into his embrace.

“Are you okay to keep going, baby?” he asked softly.

You were practically buzzing with anticipation. “Please.”

When Hongjoong asked if you had a condom, your heart dropped to your stomach. You hadn’t been sleeping with anyone for a while, of course, you didn’t have condoms anywhere.

“... no,” you muttered. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”

“Checked it a few months ago. I’m clean,” he murmured.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Then, please, just fuck me?”

How could he say no to you? He smiled, pressing an unfittingly chaste kiss on your lips. After he moved to sit by your legs again, he quickly manhandled you onto your hands and knees. Your fuzzy brain didn’t even have time to process what he was doing before it was done.

“But I can’t touch you like this!” you whined.

“Mm… I lied.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Cum one more time and I’ll let you touch me. Just one more.”

You wanted to whine and complain, but the proud look on his face appeared in your mind. You wanted to please him, you couldn’t deny that. So, you shut your mouth and arch your back—pressing your ass against him. You can feel that he’s pulled off his underwear now, and you ached to see him. All of him. Your mouth all but watered at the thought.

“Please, fuck me,” you said again. “Please, sir.”

He groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing up against him, and quickly guided his cock to your entrance. He goes slowly at first, letting you get used to his size. However, you grow impatient and start moving yourself further down his cock. Hongjoong gripped your hips—his warm hands feel like they belong there—and stopped you from moving.

“I’m in charge here, sweetheart,” he reminded you. “Want me to go faster? Beg.”

“Please fuck me faster, sir, I want you to fill me up.” The words come pouring out of you without stop, you become a blubbering mess as he starts shallowly fucking into you at a faster pace. “Yes! Please, more! I need more!”

You can’t think of anything except how good he’s filling you up. You’re not sure you’ve ever lost yourself in someone this way—no one has ever taken control over you like this, fucked you like this, molded you to their body like this. He’s ruined everyone else for you, you’re sure of it. His hips slam against yours, filling you up completely. You open your mouth to thank him, but only a noise of surprise and pleasure comes out. Hongjoong’s hand had come down on your ass, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin.

“Again,” you whimper.

His hand comes down on you again, and you moan. You never knew you were into pain like this—but whatever he was doing, he was not allowed to stop. Hongjoong’s hips started moving against yours again, and his hand came down on you with every other thrust. You were a drooling mess. The makeup you had put on was running down your cheeks as you babbled out an endless sentence of thank you.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “So good, taking whatever I give you—aren’t you such a good obedient slut?”

“Yes, sir! I’m your obedient slut!” you moaned out, your hands gripping the sheets. “Please, let me cum! Please, please, please…”

“Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he demanded.

With a choked moan, the coil in your stomach exploded into a fiery pit—burning your skin until it made you see stars. Hongjoong pulled out and came on your back, groaning as he did. You collapsed on the bed, and you felt the bed tip to one side. He had gotten some tissues from the box on your nightstand and wiped off the cum from your back. You turned around to see him throwing the tissue to the side, holding your arms out to him. His chest pressed against yours as he embraced you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The dominant Hongjoong was gone, you could tell from his soft kiss. There was still a craving lingering in you. Although you were tired, you started grinding against his still-hard cock. He put his hand on your hip, right by your tattoo.

“Baby, you’re too tired,” he murmured.

“You said I could touch you if I came again,” you whined.

Your brain was foggy, all you needed and wanted was for him to touch you—to fuck you slowly into your mattress. He smiled at your pout, before leaning in to kiss it away. You smiled back at him, and Hongjoong strangled a laugh at the sight of you.

“Just one more?” you asked.

He groaned as you reached down to guide his cock to your entrance again. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He started to slowly thrust into you again. Hissing at how sensitive you both were, you paused all movement as he had bottomed out in you. Hongjoong’s arms were on either side of your head, holding himself up to look at you. You reached out your finger and carefully traced the tattoos on his chest.

“You’re pretty,” you murmured.

It was dark in your room, but you swore you could see his face get red. Hongjoong didn’t respond, he only started moving slowly against you again. You let out small grunts and whimpers, your hands finding their place on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

“You feel so good…” Hongjoong’s head fell to the crook of your neck, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him there.

One of your hands found its way to his short hair, tangling your fingers into the mess. Your legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to keep him close. His body was warm, and you wanted to steal that warmth to keep it safe.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “So good to me…”

“Hongjoong.” You made him look at you again, his hips never stopped moving. His forehead leaned against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “Cum inside me.”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he’d keep you to your word from the way that he kissed you. It was as if he was pouring his adoration into every move of his lips. One of his hands moved down to rub your clit, making your legs shake around him. With a grunt, he came inside you and you came soon after him. The two of you stayed in that position, chests heaving.

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out.

“I could say the same about you.” He grinned before pressing a kiss to your cheek and getting up. “I’ll get you cleaned up, stay here.”

He walked over to the door but hesitated as he realized that he didn’t know the layout of your apartment. “The bathroom’s to your left when you walk out of that door.” You giggled.

He walked out with a sheepish smile, his ears red, and came back only a few seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth. Hongjoong wiped you off carefully as if he was wiping off porcelain. You reached your hand up to his head, trying to tame his wild hair by running your fingers through it.

“Does it look weird?” he asked without looking up at you, his focus was on your tattoo—he traced the lines of the lotus flower with his fingers.

“It’s just messy…” you hummed. “... maybe a little weird.” He looked away from your tattoo, and the two of you laughed as your eyes met.

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom, Hongjoong got you under the covers in your bed before he got in next to you. Lying together, you nestled against Hongjoong’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothed any lingering nerves, its gentle thump a comforting backdrop to the stillness of the night. He stroked your hair tenderly, his fingers moving in a slow, relaxing pattern that made your eyelids grow heavy with contentment.

“This feels nice,” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness.

He tightened his embrace slightly, resting his chin on top of your head. “It really does… I’m glad you invited me up.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the soft, dim light from the street lights and passing cars filtering through the curtains. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart swell. “Me too.”

He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Was it okay? You’re not overwhelmed or anything?”

“I’m fine, Hongjoong,” you murmured.

“I just want to make sure—”

“I know.” You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. “It’s sweet… but I’m okay… I liked it, actually.”

“Good.” He couldn’t hide his boyish grin. “Are you sure you haven’t done it before? You were too good for—”

You slapped his chest lightly, biting back your smile at his teasing. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He snickered, his laughter a low, pleasant rumble against your ear. “Seriously though, you were amazing.”

“So were you.” You sighed happily, snuggling closer. The warmth of his body and the security of his arms around you made you feel incredibly safe. As you lay there, you felt a profound sense of peace, the worries of the world melting away. Hongjoon’s hand found the lotus flower design on your hip again. Moving his body ever so slightly, he looked at the inked skin under the sheets, carefully studying his work. His fingers continued to trace the intricate design of your tattoo, the gentle touch sending shivers down your spine.

“It healed well,” he commented.

“It did.” You hummed, cupping his face in your hand to make him meet your eyes. His eyebrows raised and he looked at you with big eyes, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded and he smiled, leaning up to press a kiss on your swollen lips.

“I thought the design was pretty on its own.” He pressed a kiss on your cheek. “But it’s even prettier on you.”

“Smooth-talker.” You scoffed but smiled lovingly anyway.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just telling the truth,” he said with a playful smile. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you again while you rolled your eyes.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, baby,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

The two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. His hand stayed on your hip.

You woke to the gentle caress of morning light streaming through your curtains. The first thing you noticed was Hongjoong lying beside you, his presence as comforting as the warmth of the sun on your skin. His hair, a tousled mess of soft blond strands, framed his peaceful face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He looked so serene, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, completely at ease in his slumber.

As you lay there, your heart swelled with a sense of contentment, the kind that only comes from waking up next to someone you love. Carefully, you reached out, your fingers gently threading through his bleached hair, feeling its softness against your skin. He stirred slightly at your touch, his nose twitching in response, and a soft hum escaped his lips. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as if even in his sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

You watched him for a moment longer, memorizing the way the morning light kissed his features, casting delicate shadows on his skin. The peaceful expression on his face, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, the gentle curve of his lips—it all filled you with a warmth that radiated from deep within, spreading through every part of you.

Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of his embrace and out of bed. After putting on clothes, you padded to the kitchen to start breakfast. The sounds and smells of cooking soon filled the apartment, and just as you were finishing up, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

"Good morning," Hongjoong mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

You turned your head to look at him, his hair even more disheveled now. "Good morning. I hope you like your eggs scrambled."

He grinned, planting a kiss on your cheek. "I love them. Especially if you're the one making them."

The two of you moved around the kitchen in a cozy, intimate dance, making breakfast together. There was a comforting rhythm to it, an easy familiarity that made you feel like you’d been doing this for years. You chatted about small things, laughed at silly jokes, and stole kisses in between setting the table and making coffee.

Once everything was ready, you sat down to eat. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you felt a deep sense of contentment. After breakfast, Hongjoong insisted on helping you clean up, and soon it was time to get ready for work. As you gathered your things, he offered to drop you off, and you happily agreed.

When you arrived at the café, you saw Seonghwa already seated at a table near the window. He ate breakfast at the café from time to time, mostly when he missed you or when he didn’t have the energy to make breakfast at home. He glanced up and saw you through the big windows as you walked up to the café, a curious look in his eyes.

Hongjoong walked you to the door, his hand lingering on the small of your back. "Have a good day at work," he said softly, leaning in for a quick kiss.

You blushed, aware of the eyes on you. "You too. Thanks for breakfast and everything."

As you stepped inside, Seonghwa immediately waved you over. "Hey, you look... different today. Did something happen?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral but unable to hide the small smile playing on your lips. "Just had a good morning, that’s all."

Your coworker joined in, smirking. "Uh-huh, sure. And was that Hongjoong who just dropped you off?"

You felt your cheeks heat up again. "Maybe..."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "What did he do to make you glow like that this early in the morning, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "... he may have spent the night after we saw the gig that his friends were playing. But I’m not saying anything else. You would’ve known if you had been there!"

“I was busy with work,” he whined. “You have to tell me!”

“I don’t remember putting that in our contract,” you joked. “Now, leave me alone! I have a shift to get to!”

With that, you slipped behind the counter, ready to start your shift. Despite the teasing and the curious glances, you couldn’t help but feel light and happy. The memory of the morning with Hongjoong stayed with you, a warm, comforting presence that made the day feel just a little bit brighter.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Over the next few weeks, you saw Hongjoong regularly. Your connection deepened with each meeting, but despite the growing intimacy between you, he never initiated anything sexual. It was both endearing and frustrating. You appreciated his respect for your boundaries, but it also made you shy and hesitant to make the first move.

One afternoon, while you were tidying up at the café, your phone buzzed with a message from Hongjoong.

Hey, can you stop by the shop after work? I have something I want to show you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. You quickly typed back, Sure! I get off at 5. See you then!

The rest of your shift passed in a blur of anticipation. As soon as the clock struck five, you grabbed your things and headed to his studio. The familiar walk seemed shorter than usual, your excitement propelling you forward.

When you arrived, the shop was quiet, a stark contrast to its usual buzz of activity. You stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of a tattoo machine and the scent of ink and antiseptic. Hongjoong looked out from his tattoo room and smiled, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Hey," he greeted, finishing up the last touches on his current project. "Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you."

You nodded, taking a seat and watching him work. His focus and skill never ceased to amaze you. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his hands steady and precise.

After a few minutes, he finished and cleaned up, then came over to you. "Thanks for waiting. I’m really glad you could come by."

"No problem," you replied, your curiosity piqued. "So, what did you want to show me?"

Hongjoong grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Follow me."

He led you to a back room you hadn’t seen before. Inside was a collection of his artwork, framed and displayed on the walls. Sketches, paintings, and tattoo designs filled the space, each piece a testament to his talent and creativity.

"Wow, Hongjoong," you breathed, taking it all in. "This is incredible. I knew you worked a lot but, this…"

He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, it’s kind of my personal gallery. I wanted to share it with you."

You turned to him, touched by the gesture. "Your work is amazing."

He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I wanted you to see this because... well, you’re important to me. And I want you to know me better, all sides of me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out, taking his hand. "Thank you for showing me this."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked onto yours. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken feelings and mutual understanding. You felt the urge to close the distance between you, but still, the hesitation lingered.

Sensing your uncertainty, Hongjoong smiled and pulled you into a warm embrace. You lost yourself in the domesticity of the moment, feeling content in his arms. "How was your day?" he murmured.

"Good," you replied, smiling up at him. "How about you?"

"Busy, but good," he said, pulling away from him. "Listen, I was wondering if you’re free for dinner tonight. I’d like to cook for you, as a thank you for the breakfast from a few weeks ago."

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of Hongjoong cooking for you in an intimate setting set loose the butterflies in your stomach. "I’d love that."

He grinned. "Great! Let me just lock up, and we’ll head over to my place."

As he closed up the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. You assumed that inviting you over for dinner meant he might finally make a move, and the thought both thrilled and made you slightly nervous.

The ride to his apartment was a little longer than it had been to your place, and you started to understand why he had bought a motorbike instead of a car. While the cars were stuck slowly rolling forward during rush hour, Hongjoong easily passed them in between the lanes. When you arrived, he led you inside, and you took a moment to take in your surroundings. His place was cozy and stylish, with a mix of modern and vintage decor that reflected his artistic nature—most of it in black.

"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing to the living room. "I’ll get started on dinner."

You settled onto the couch, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The aroma of garlic and herbs soon filled the air, and you felt that warm sense of domestic bliss wash over you yet again.

"Can I help with anything?" you offered, not wanting to just sit idly by.

He shook his head, smiling. "Nope, I’ve got it covered. Just relax and enjoy."

You chatted as he cooked, the conversation flowing effortlessly. It felt so natural, so right, to be there with him. Before long, he called you to the table, which he had set beautifully with candles and your favorite flowers.

"Dinner is served," he said with a flourish, placing a delicious-looking pasta dish in front of you.

You laughed, feeling a bit like you were in a romantic movie. "This looks amazing. Thank you, Hongjoong."

He walked back to the kitchen with a pleased smile on his face. "I’m glad you like it."

Hongjoong came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You watched him with heart eyes as he opened the bottle, practically drooling over how his hands looked—and either he just didn’t notice, or he decided to ignore it, but he didn’t comment on your staring. He sat down in front of you and poured you a glass.

“You always call me ‘Hongjoong,’” he said.

“Hm?” You looked up at him from your glass of wine. “It’s your name.”

“I know, I know…” For the first time since you’d met him, he was getting shy. “I think it’d be nice if you started… I don’t know, forget about it.”

“What? Do you like pet names?” you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice. When you saw him nodding, your heart all but soared. You hadn’t expected someone like him to like cute, couple nicknames—maybe you should’ve guessed it from the number of times he called you sweetheart, baby, or love. “Like ‘baby?’ ‘Sweetie?’ ‘Pumpkin?’ ‘Sugar-cube?’”

“Now you’re just teasing me.” He groaned, but let out a laugh soon after.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you admit with a giggle and start eating. “Could you pass me the salt, baby?”

Hongjoong’s grin grew wider, just at the cusp of letting out an adorable giggle, and he handed you the salt.

As you ate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was special. The food was delicious, the atmosphere perfect, and the company even better. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and the unspoken connection between you seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Despite the pleasant ambiance, restlessness gnawed at you, making it difficult to focus on the meal. You twirled your fork absentmindedly, dropping subtle hints and playful comments, hoping Hongjoong would pick up on your mood.

He looked up from his plate, eyebrow quirked in amusement. "What's gotten into you tonight?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of teasing.

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off his question. "Oh, nothing," you replied, avoiding his gaze as you took a sip of water.

Hongjoong leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes—as if he was ready to get you back for teasing him before. "Come on," he urged, reaching across the table to gently touch your hand. "Tell me what you're up to. You're acting strange."

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you struggled to maintain composure. Looking into his eyes, you found it hard to resist his playful charm. "Okay, fine," you finally admitted, your voice quieter than intended. "I've just been thinking... about us."

A flicker of concern crossed Hongjoong's face, and he squeezed your hand gently. "About us?" he prompted softly.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your confession. "Yeah," you began slowly, choosing your words carefully. "I miss... I miss how it felt when you touched me."

Hongjoong's expression softened, and he pulled his hand back, his thumb absently tracing circles on the tablecloth. "I miss that too," he admitted quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and affection.

The honesty in his voice made your heart swell with warmth. "I didn't realize how much until tonight," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to ignore it, but... I can't."

There was a moment of silence between you, filled only with the soft hum of traffic outside. Hongjoong broke the quiet, his voice low and sincere. "I'm glad you told me," he said softly, reaching across the table again to take your hand in his. "Because I've been feeling the same way… I just didn’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything."

“I want you,” you admitted in a small voice.

After your quiet admission, Hongjoong's eyes softened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly in reassurance. He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been wanting to hear you say that for so long," he confessed, his eyes searching for any hesitation.

After your quiet admission, a warm flush spread through you as Hongjoong’s gaze deepened with a mixture of affection and desire. His hand squeezed yours one last time before he let go, leaning back in his chair with a soft, contemplative smile. You were left stunned—how much more clear did you have to be for him to touch you again?

However, as the meal continued, the air between you was charged with a newfound intensity. You could barely focus on the food, each glance exchanged with Hongjoong sending a shiver down your spine. The unspoken tension only grew as the minutes passed, and it became clear that the two of you were in sync, your thoughts mirroring each other’s.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hongjoong put down his fork and began gathering the dishes. "I’ll take care of this," he said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a smoldering undercurrent of emotion. He rose from the table, heading toward the kitchen with a stack of plates balanced effortlessly in his hands.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. Restlessness gnawed at you once more, and before you could overthink it, you found yourself rising from your seat, following him into the kitchen.

As you stepped through the doorway, you found Hongjoong standing at the sink, rinsing the dishes with deliberate care. The sound of running water filled the space, but it did little to drown out the thudding of your heart. You approached him quietly, the warmth of the dimly lit kitchen wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Without a word, you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He froze for a moment, the dish in his hand forgotten as he registered your touch. Slowly, he turned off the faucet and set the dish aside, his body relaxing into your embrace.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" he teased gently, his voice laced with affection as he turned to face you, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You looked up at him, your arms still wrapped around his waist and shook your head. "Not for long," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips.

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm yet tender. "You know, you’ve been driving me crazy all night," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was a kiss that held all the unspoken longing, the unexpressed emotions that had been building between you throughout the evening. Your hands slid up his back, fingers tangling in his hair as you melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you.

Hongjoong deepened the kiss, his hands traveling from your face to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you was palpable, the kiss growing more urgent with every passing second.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. The cool surface of the counter was a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins, but it only heightened your awareness of every touch, every sensation.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your body with a gentle urgency, one hand sliding up your back while the other cradled your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss even further. His lips were relentless, moving from your mouth to your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You gasped softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as you arched into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"God, I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with desire as he continued to press kisses along your collarbone. "You have no idea."

You pulled his face back up to yours, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The tension that had been building between you all evening finally found its release, each kiss, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

Hongjoong’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he explored your skin with a tenderness that only fueled your desire. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you clung to him, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

But then, just as the kiss had deepened, Hongjoong suddenly slowed, his lips lingering on yours with a gentler, almost reverent touch. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours. The air between you was thick, both of you breathing heavily as you took in the weight of what was happening.

His thumb gently caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours with a mix of longing and tenderness. "I don’t want to rush this," he murmured softly. "I want it to be perfect."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Me too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. There was a pause, a shared moment of understanding, where the intensity of the moment gave way to something deeper, something more meaningful.

Hongjoong’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "How about we go somewhere more private?" he suggested, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, the simple touch grounding you both in the gravity of the moment.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement wash over you. "Okay," you agreed quietly, your heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and eagerness. The urgency was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now it was tempered with the knowledge that this moment was about more than just passion—it was about connection.

You walked in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared confession hanging in the air like a promise. Reaching his bedroom, he opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, the familiar surroundings feeling suddenly new and charged with possibility. Hongjoong closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of uncertainty and desire.

He took a step closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "I want to make sure this is what you really want," he said softly, his gaze intense and sincere.

You nodded, your hands resting on his chest. "I've never been more sure," you replied, a teasing smile spreading on your lips. “Take me however you want, sir.”

With a newfound hunger, Hongjoong leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. It felt like he was pouring his energy into you, every touch feeling like an electric spark.

Hongjoong pulled back from the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. He searched your eyes, his expression earnest and caring. "Are you sure you’re okay with going further?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of desire and concern.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the anticipation building inside you. You nodded your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I trust you."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Good," he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms to your waist, pulling you closer. "I promise I'll take care of you."

His lips captured yours again, this time with more urgency, his hands exploring your body. You melted into his embrace, the world outside disappearing as you focused entirely on the sensations he was awakening within you.

He gently pushed you onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he stood over you. "I want you to let go, to feel everything," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, your pulse quickening at the authority in his tone. "Yes," you breathed, your body aching for his touch.

Hongjoong's smile deepened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Good girl," he whispered, his words sending a jolt through you. He took his time undressing you, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Every touch, every kiss was deliberate, heightening your anticipation.

It was only when you stood completely naked in front of him that he allowed himself to let go of you. He looked you up and down, and you felt the sudden urge to cover yourself—but when your hands reached up to cover your chest, he immediately took your wrists to keep them away.

“I told you before,” he murmured, “you’re beautiful. Don’t hide from me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “What are you going to do with me?”

“You’ll find out.”

He left your side and walked over to one of the closets. Inside the closet were no clothes. The drawers were filled with different toys—some things that you had never seen before—from dildos to restraints. Your jaw practically fell to the floor, and you could hear Hongjoong try to stifle a laugh.

“Do you still want to go further?” he asked, although it was clear that he knew he didn’t have to.

You could only nod, your eyes wide with suspense.

“Sweetheart,” he warned.

“Yes.”

At one single word, you ended up on the bed with a blindfold on and your hands tied up behind you. Your knees were resting on the unsteady, plush mattress, and you were trying your hardest to stay upright. Despite not being able to see him, you knew that Hongjoong was still dressed—and it made your skin burn.

"You're doing so well," he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with both command and praise. The words sent shivers down your spine.

Something soft, barely noticeable, tickled your chest. You heard Hongjoong laugh as you tried to squirm away. “Remember, baby, you can’t fall over. You promised me you wouldn’t. Liars get punished, you know?”

Gritting your teeth, you unsuccessfully tried to suppress another whine. You buried your knees into the mattress while Hongjoong kept teasing you, with what you could only assume was some sort of feather. The feather’s touch went from your clavicle to your chest, down your stomach, and to your spread thighs.

Just as you started getting used to the feather’s touch, it disappeared from your skin. The bed tipped to your right, and you had to use every fiber in your being to not fall over. Hongjoong’s chest pressed against your shoulder, you could feel the soft fabric of his shirt. The urge to wrap your arms around his strong shoulders was irresistible. But no matter how much you pulled on the fuzzy handcuffs, they wouldn’t budge.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered in your ear.

“What is it?” you murmured.

“Patience…”

He moved around, and you could feel him right in front of you now. Pressing a few soft kisses to your clavicle, Hongjoong took his time loving you. The sweet kisses turned hungry when he began sucking and grazing his teeth against your skin. You soughed, leaning your head back and to the side to allow him more access. His lips disappeared and the bed dipped slightly to the side. Hongjoong had reached for something that he had put beside the bed earlier, and you were eagerly awaiting your surprise.

A burning sensation, like stepping under the shower before the water has heated up fully, pressed against your chest—the small point encapsulated by Hongjoong’s pillowy lips. A gasp escaped your lips, and you struggled against the restraints by mere intuition. Despite telling you to keep yourself upright, Hongjoong put his hands on your back to keep you still. The ice cube in his mouth ran over your warm skin, and he hummed as you let out a shaky moan.

“Baby, please.” You squirmed.

Hongjoong replied by humming again, but the ice cube stopped gliding over your skin. One of his hands fell on your jaw, guiding you to his lips. The piece of ice, now barely a slither, melted between your tongues as you kissed—a sense of euphoria that you never thought you’d experience.

Hongjoong pulled away, and your lips tried to chase him but he was no longer in front of you. Before you could register that he had climbed off the bed, you had fallen against the soft mattress—your ass up in the air, and your hands struggling on your back. You heard Hongjoong tsk beside you, and a harsh slap landed on your ass. His warm palm rubbed soothing circles over the stinging skin, but the message was clear; you had messed up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Your apologies fell on deaf ears as another slap hit your still-sensitive skin.

Hongjoong’s other hand went to your back, holding you in place. “Count ‘em.”

Another slap rang through your ears, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “Sir, I’m sorry–”

“I said.” Hongjoong’s fingers threaded through your hair, bending your head up until you could feel him breathing by your ear. “Count them.” His hand left your hair and went back to rubbing the burning skin of your ass.

After managing to count to ten, Hongjoong’s fingers went from stroking your ass to rubbing your aching pussy. A soft mewl left your lips and you couldn’t help but to wriggle your hips. Your brain was fried at this point, and Hongjoong could tell. His hand disappeared from where you needed it most, although you had no time to complain about it. The handcuffs came undone, and your arms fell to your sides. He flipped you on your back, your aching thighs resting heavenly against the soft, cool sheets. Hongjoong got on top of you, pressing a few uncharacteristically soft kisses on your jaw and neck.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured, barely audibly.

You could only nod your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. After you pressed a kiss on his temple, Hongjoong pulled back with a lovesick grin. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated, and his hair a mess. He looked angelic.

“You can keep going,” you muttered. “I can take it.”

“Oh yeah?”

You used the little strength you had left to lean up and kiss his plump lips—soft and chaste, your lips just barely touching before you laid back down. “Yeah.”

His lips attached to your neck again with a new sense of passion and intensity. You let your eyes fall close as a hum bubbled up your throat, your hands spreading out on his back to keep him close. You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, trying to pull it up.

“Off,” was all you managed to get out. Despite wanting to keep teasing you, Hongjoong didn’t have the strength to do so. His shirt went over his head and flew somewhere else in the room, just like your clothes had earlier. His pants followed shortly after, and soon enough you finally got to feel his naked flesh against yours.

Hongjoong’s hips were moving agonizingly slow against yours, but you had no voice to complain about it with—his lips wouldn’t leave yours. When your hand tried to go down your body to rub your clit, his hand was quick to pin your wrist to the bed.

“Let me take my time,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’ve been teasing me for so long,” you muttered back.

“You want control, baby?” he asked mockingly. Before you could say anything else, you found yourself on top of him. “Ride me. Take control.”

As soon as you tried to move your hips up, you realized just how tired your thighs were. A broken whine escaped your lips as you tried your best to set a pace. Hongjoong’s hands landed on your hips. He must’ve taken pity on you, as his hands started guiding you to follow a steady pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he hummed. “You’re doing so good.”

Your mouth fell open as you managed to pick up the pace—your climax quickly approaching. Hongjoong’s hips started to move to match your pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans growing in volume. Endless praise echoed from his lips, but they just barely met your ears. Only when he told you to cum could you really hear him.

When your climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable, crashing over you and stealing the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your body arching as the sensation consumed you. Hongjoong help you through it, his arms a secure anchor in the storm of your release. His own climax followed, his body shuddering against yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined in a pure, unfiltered intimacy that left you both breathless and sated.

You and Hongjoong lay entwined in bed, your breaths mingling in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The tender patterns his fingers traced on your skin whispered promises of comfort, a soothing contrast to the fiery intensity you shared just moments before. The warmth of his body against yours wrapped you in a cocoon of safety, easing the lingering heat of your passion, yet beneath his gentle caresses, a flicker of concern danced in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a breath above the silence. "I didn't... go too far, did I?"

Turning to face him, you cupped his cheek, your hand cradling his face with a tender intimacy. His eyes searched yours, seeking any sign of unease or regret. "I'm more than okay," you whispered with a soft smile, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone.

Hongjoong exhaled, releasing a breath he'd unknowingly held, his gaze softening, though the shadow of worry still lingered. "I just... I worry a lot," he admitted, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips.

You shook your head gently, brushing your thumb across his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath, the softness of his touch. "I know, my love," you murmured. "I want you to feel just as safe and cherished with me."

His eyes closed briefly under your touch, relief washing over him in waves. When he opened them again, there was a new light, a quiet resolve in his gaze. "I do feel safe with you," he confessed, his voice steadier now, carrying the weight of sincerity.

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you. "Good," you replied, intertwining your fingers with his, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse, a comforting reminder of your connection.

The air between you grew lighter, the weight of unspoken fears dissolving with each shared word. There was a clarity, a deep understanding that bound you both in that moment. Hongjoong took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of profound connection.

"I... I love you," he murmured, the words tinged with both hesitation and certainty, hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

Your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions. "I love you too," you replied softly, your voice a tender echo of his confession.

Hongjoong’s arms tightened around you, his body molding to yours as though it had always been meant to be this way. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing perfectly with yours, creating a harmonious symphony of togetherness. His hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles, sending ripples of warmth through your soul.

The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, the bedside lamp casting delicate shadows that danced across the walls. The world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you in this intimate sanctuary. Hongjoong’s breath brushed against your forehead, his lips pressing a tender kiss there, sealing the moment with gentle affection. His fingers found yours, interlacing them with a loving squeeze. As you gazed into his eyes, you found them brimming with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. Without breaking the gaze, he brought your knuckles to his lips. In that moment, clarity washed over you both—this was where you belonged.

feedback is always welcomed!

taglist:

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @niktwazny303, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy,

@hyneyedfiz, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @notevenheretbh1

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idyllic-ghost · 6 months ago

Text

Title: Vanilla Perfume Pairing: Sunwoo x gn!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, Wordcount: 3.7k Rating: 18+ for suggestive content

Synopsis: You know that Sunwoo loves your perfume, that's partially why you wear it all the time. He just gets more obvious with his obsession when he's drunk.

Warnings: mentioned alcohol consumption, alluding to nsfw activities, food mention

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Masterlists

Amid the chatter that spills out from the dimly lit bar, Sunwoo’s senses are overwhelmed—laughter and conversations meld into a single, indistinguishable hum, like a chaotic symphony playing in the background. People mill about on the sidewalk, their bodies forming clusters that obscure his view, a moving wall of shapes and shadows under the flickering neon lights. The only things he can register are the faint, lingering taste of beer on his tongue and the rough texture of his jeans beneath his fingertips. Yet, even in the midst of this bustling scene, there’s a part of him that remains attuned to just one thing—waiting for you.

Then, it happens. The delicate scent of vanilla threads through the cool night air, a subtle whisper slicing through the cacophony, wrapping around him like a silk ribbon. It carries the unmistakable promise of your presence, a scent as familiar as it is intoxicating, drawing him in with the soft persistence of a lullaby. It’s subtle, almost elusive, but to Sunwoo, it’s as familiar as his own heartbeat.

His heart skips a beat, a familiar thrill coursing through him as he instinctively knows it’s your perfume. The rest of the world fades away; the many voices become a distant murmur, and the crowd around him blurs into the background. His pulse quickens, anticipation buzzing in his veins as he turns, searching the street with a singular focus.

And then he sees you. You’re standing just outside the his groups of friends, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, waving at him with that radiant smile that never fails to make his heart flutter. You’re only wearing jeans and a light sweater, shivering slightly in the chilly evening air. Your eyes, warm and sparkling, meet his, and in that instant, everything else melts away.

The world around you both seems to pause, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, fleeting moment. Sunwoo’s breath catches in his throat, his expression softening as a sense of calm washes over him. There’s an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that draws him to you, and without a second thought, he starts weaving his way through the small crowd, eager to close the distance between you.

“Baby!” he exclaims, his voice rising above the din, louder than intended thanks to the buzz of alcohol still coursing through his system. His joy and excitement burst forth in a way that’s impossible to contain, and the group of people nearby turns to look, their conversations momentarily halted.

Embarrassed by the sudden attention, you mumble apologies to those around, your cheeks warming under the curious gazes. Sunwoo had called you half an hour ago, his voice slurred but sweet, asking you to come pick him up after a night out with his friends. It hadn’t taken much to convince you—just a few soft words about how much he missed you, and you were already slipping on your shoes and grabbing your keys.

“They’re taking me home to their place!” Sunwoo explains to his friends, his words tumbling out with childlike excitement, as if he hadn’t already told them his plans a dozen times.

After a round of goodbyes that seem to drag on forever, Sunwoo finally reaches your side again. The chill in the air nips at your skin, and without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his touch lingering for just a moment longer. The warmth of his jacket, combined with the gesture, sends a flush of warmth through you.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he adjusts the collar around your neck. “Can’t have you freezing out here.”

You smile up at him. "I thought I was supposed to take care of you."

"You'll get your chance." He wears a cheeky smile, and pulls you in a little closer for a short kiss. He tastes of beer, but you don't mind as you feel him smile against your lips.

Sunwoo, still a little unsteady, takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s eager, almost too eager, as he pulls you along, but his steps are aimless, zigzagging as he struggles to maintain a straight path. You chuckle softly, gently steering him toward your car, guiding him with a patient hand as you navigate through the chilly night together.

He stumbles slightly as he reaches for the passenger door, a lopsided grin on his face as he leans against the car for balance. “Got it, got it,” he mumbles, fumbling with the handle before you gently push his hand aside to open the door for him.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, his voice soft and affectionate as he climbs into the seat. He’s all smiles as he settles in, his head resting back against the seat, eyes half-closed as he breathes out a contented sigh. You close the door behind him and circle around to the driver’s side, the brisk air urging you to hurry.

Once inside, the warmth of the car’s interior wraps around you both, a welcome contrast to the crispness of the night. You glance over at Sunwoo as you start the engine, your gaze lingering on his relaxed expression. His eyes are closed now, his breathing steady, but there’s still a small, happy smile playing on his lips.

As you pull away from the curb, the quiet hum of the engine and the gentle vibration of the road create a soothing rhythm. The city lights flash by in a blur of neon and headlights, but the world inside the car feels peaceful, almost serene. Every so often, Sunwoo shifts slightly in his seat, murmuring something incoherent under his breath, his hand reaching out as if searching for you.

Without taking your eyes off the road, you reach over and take his hand, your fingers entwining with his. He squeezes your hand gently, the warmth of his touch spreading through you like a soft glow. His thumb brushes against your skin in a slow, lazy motion.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” he mumbles after a while, his voice drowsy. “You’re the best.”

“Of course,” you reply, glancing over at him with a smile. “I’ll always come for you, Sunwoo.”

He opens his eyes just enough to look at you, his gaze filled with a tender warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. “I know,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “That’s why I love you.”

As you drive, the comforting scent of vanilla lingers in the air, and Sunwoo inhales deeply, the familiarity of your perfume grounding him even as his head swims from the night’s drinks. He closes his eyes again, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leans toward you, savoring the scent that reminds him of you. It’s sweet, warm, and comforting—a fragrance that feels like home to him.

When you finally pull up in front of your apartment building, you gently release his hand and turn off the engine. For a moment, you just sit there, taking in the peaceful quiet of the night, the soft rise and fall of Sunwoo’s breathing beside you. You lean over to gently nudge him awake.

“Sunwoo, we’re here,” you whisper, your voice soft as you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He blinks his eyes open. “Your place?” he asks, his voice thick with drowsiness, but there’s a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “It was your idea, remember?”

He smiles, his gaze softening as he takes in your words. “Right... I like that idea,” he murmurs, still slightly drowsy, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that tells you he’s happy to be with you.

The moment you step out of the car, the brisk night air bites at your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth you’ve just left behind. But before the chill can settle, Sunwoo’s arm is around your shoulders, drawing you into the shelter of his body. His touch is reassuring, a silent promise of protection as you navigate the dimly lit pathway to your apartment, each step resonating with the quiet intimacy you share. His steps are more stable now, but he leans on you slightly, as if reluctant to let go of the warmth and closeness you share.

The scent of vanilla clings to you, stronger now as he’s close to you, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you wait for the elevator. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. "You always do."

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m glad you like it,” you reply, pressing the button for your floor.

When you finally reach your apartment, Sunwoo is almost half-asleep again, his head nodding slightly with each step. But as soon as you unlock the door and step inside, he perks up, the familiar warmth and comfort of your home welcoming you both. The soft glow of the lamps casts a cozy light over the living room, and the subtle scent of vanilla lingers in the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of your space. Sunwoo sighs in relief, kicking off his shoes with a bit more effort than usual as you close the door behind you.

He stumbles slightly, trying to push his shoes together with his foot, his brow furrowed in concentration. It’s endearing, watching him focus so intently on such a small task, but after a moment, you can’t help but smile as you squat down to help.

"Do you want something to eat, or do you just want to go to bed?" you ask, setting his shoes neatly to the side.

Sunwoo pauses, swaying slightly as he thinks it over. "Do you have ramyun?" he mutters, his voice thick with sleepiness, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You smile softly, charmed by his request. "I can make you some," you reply, standing back up. "Why don’t you go wash up in the meantime? Does that sound nice?"

When you meet his gaze, you’re greeted by Sunwoo’s lovesick grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “Very nice,” he agrees.

You stifle a laugh, gently nudging him toward the bathroom. “Then go. I have some spare clothes you left here last time—they’re in the usual spot.”

Sunwoo mumbles something under his breath, something about how well you take care of him, as he stumbles off toward your bedroom. You watch him for a moment, a fond smile tugging at your lips, before turning your attention to the kitchen.

The apartment is quiet except for the faint sound of water running as Sunwoo washes up. You move around the kitchen with practiced ease, pulling out a pot and filling it with water, your thoughts drifting as you prepare the ramyun. The stove clicks on, a small flame flickering to life beneath the pot, and you find yourself smiling at the simple, familiar routine of it all.

As the water begins to boil, you reach for the packet of noodles, tearing it open with a soft crinkle. The rich scent of the seasoning fills the air as you pour it into the bubbling water, stirring it gently. Steam rises in delicate tendrils, curling around your face and carrying with it the savory aroma of the meal you’re preparing.

The soft padding of footsteps behind you catches your attention, and before you can turn around, you feel Sunwoo’s presence close behind. His freshly washed scent, the smell of your body wash that he definitely borrowed, wraps around you like a comforting embrace. His arms slide around your waist, and he presses his chin against the your shoulder, sighing contentedly.

“That looks delicious,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your back.

You smile, your hands still stirring the pot as you lean back into his warmth. “It’ll be ready soon,” you reply softly.

For a few moments, you both stand there in the kitchen, the only sounds the gentle bubbling of the ramyun and the quiet hum of the apartment around you. It’s a peaceful kind of silence, filled with the unspoken understanding that this, right here, is where you both belong.

Sunwoo nuzzles into the curve of your neck, his breath a warm whisper against your skin as he inhales deeply, savoring the familiar blend of your perfume and the lingering traces of the night air. His hands tighten on your waist, their warmth seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment. The intimate pressure of his body against yours sends a ripple down your spine, like the first touch of sunlight after a cold dawn.

"You smell nice," he hums, his voice low, edged with a hint of something more.

"You said that," you reply with a soft chuckle, your tone playful, but there’s no denying the way his words affect you.

"Mm, and I mean it..." His voice trails off as he presses a kiss to the curve of your neck, slow and deliberate, his lips lingering just long enough to leave a tingling sensation. His hold on you tightens as if to anchor himself in this moment, savoring the blend of your scent and the feel of you against him.

He trails another kiss along your neck, his lips barely brushing your skin as his breath fans out in a warm exhale. "You’re making it really hard to focus on anything else right now," he murmurs, his voice husky with unspoken desire.

"Is that so?" you whisper back, your own voice laced with a teasing challenge, though the quickening of your pulse betrays your growing anticipation.

Instead of replying, Sunwoo’s hands slide from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your earlobe. “You’re impossible to resist when you smell this good,” he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate whisper that sends a thrill through you.

The atmosphere in the kitchen shifts, the air between you charged with a tension that’s as intoxicating as the scent of your perfume. His kisses become a little more insistent, each one sending a wave of warmth through you that stirs something deeper. The soft, rhythmic bubbling of the ramyun on the stove is the only reminder of where you are, but even that feels secondary to the heat building between you.

You can’t help but smile, tilting your head slightly to give him better access, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. “Maybe we should take this to the table,” you suggest, your voice soft, though it’s clear that the idea of moving doesn’t hold much appeal.

“Or,” he counters, his tone rich with suggestion as he nips gently at your ear, “we could just stay right here...”

The suggestion hangs in the air, tempting and full of promise, but the bubbling ramyun eventually pulls you back to the moment. You feel a pang of playful regret as you gently pull away from his embrace, turning your attention back to the stove. “Hold that thought,” you say with a soft laugh, your heart still fluttering from his touch.

When the noodles are finally cooked, you turn off the stove and reach for a pair of bowls, but Sunwoo doesn’t let go entirely. Instead, he shifts his hold slightly, his arms still wrapped around you as he leans his chin on your shoulder, watching you with a sleepy smile. His presence is a comforting weight against you, a silent assurance that the closeness you share isn’t going anywhere.

You serve the ramyun, pouring a little extra into his bowl, the difference almost imperceptible but meaningful all the same. “Here you go,” you murmur, holding out his bowl to him as he finally lets go to take it from your hands.

“You’re spoiling me,” he teases, his voice soft and full of affection.

“Maybe,” you reply with a playful smile, handing him a steaming bowl. “But you deserve it.”

He takes the bowl from you, his fingers brushing against yours and, for a moment, he just looks at you. “Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice sincere.

You smile back at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment as you both make your way to the small dining table. The two of you sit down, the warmth of the meal and the comfort of each other’s presence making the night feel just right.

As you eat together in the soft glow of the kitchen lights, Sunwoo keeps stealing glances at you, his expression one of pure happiness. And when he finally finishes his meal, he leans back in his chair, sighing with satisfaction.

“Best ramyun I’ve ever had,” he declares, a playful twinkle in his eye.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he replies, his smile widening. “Especially when you make it.”

The two of you linger at the table for a while longer, the conversation light and easy, filled with quiet laughter and the kind of comfortable silences that come with knowing each other so well.

After a while, with the meal finished and your conversation winding down, you begin to gather the empty bowls and utensils. Sunwoo starts to stand, clearly intending to help, but you gently nudge him back into his chair with a soft smile. “I’ve got this,” you insist, stacking the bowls in your hands. “You just relax.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but the contentment in your eyes stops him. Instead, he leans back, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you move around the kitchen. There’s a warmth in the way he looks at you, a mixture of admiration and affection that makes your heart flutter.

As you turn on the faucet and start rinsing the dishes, you hear the soft creak of the chair as Sunwoo finally rises from his seat. You’re about to remind him that you have everything under control when you feel his arms slide around your waist, pulling you gently back against him. His presence is a comforting weight, his body warm against yours as he rests his chin on your shoulder yet again.

“Couldn’t just sit and watch you work,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your ear. “Not when I could be close to you instead.”

A smile tugs at your lips as you continue washing the dishes, his touch grounding you in the moment. “You always have to be close, don’t you?” you tease, your voice light as you scrub the remnants of ramyun from the bowls.

“Can you blame me?” he replies, his breath warm against your neck as he nuzzles into your hair.

His hands slide up your sides, settling just under your ribs as he pulls you even closer, his fingers splaying out as if to keep you there. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he holds you, his touch lingering and affectionate, making even this simple task feel like something more.

You tilt your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “You know, this isn’t exactly helping me finish the dishes,” you point out with a playful grin, though there’s no real protest in your tone.

“Maybe not,” Sunwoo concedes, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as he speaks. “But it’s making me feel better.”

You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the quiet clink of dishes being washed. “I guess that’s worth something.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, the rhythm of washing dishes punctuated by the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back. It’s a different kind of intimacy, one that feels just as meaningful as any grand gesture—a shared moment of domesticity.

As you place the last dish in the drying rack, you turn in his arms, facing him with a smile. “All done,” you announce, wiping your hands on a nearby towel.

Sunwoo doesn’t move away, his hands still resting lightly on your hips as he gazes down at you with a contented smile. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice filled with warmth.

“For what?” you ask, tilting your head slightly in curiosity.

“For everything,” he replies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to convey just how much he means it. “For the food, for letting me stay over... and for just being you.”

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s soft, unhurried.

When you pull back, Sunwoo’s smile has grown lazy and his eyes half-lidded. “What do you say we head to bed?” he suggests, his voice still soft but laced with a hint of playfulness.

"I hope you're only planning on sleeping. You're still not sober, you know?" you remind him.

"You sober me up," he argues while wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face in your neck again.

"Mhm, sure, babe." You pat his head and move him to the side to get him a glass of water. "I'm putting a glass of water by your side of the bed in case you wake up in the middle of the night, okay?"

Sunwoo hums in response. He seems to have already forgotten his earlier mission, and is lazily making his way to your bedroom. You watch his slumped figure wobble to the door and open it. He looks back at you expectantly, and you immediately follow after him.

While you change into your pajamas, Sunwoo rips off his clothes until he's only in his underwear—even when it's cold outside, he prefers to sleep this way. He gets into bed, and you get in shortly after him. His arms wrap around you slowly, feeling your skin under his palms as he drags his hands around your body. Your head naturally falls into the crook of his neck, and you finally smell it. It's faint, like he had tried to wash it away, but it was still there.

"Babe," you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Did you put on my perfume?"

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idyllic-ghost · 7 months ago

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Title: A Helping Hand - Part Two Pairing: office worker!Mingyu x office worker!fem!reader Genre: office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, coworkers-with-benefits Wordcount: 11.6k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Your usually bitter coworker becomes your hero during a train ride home, and your strict work-relationship changes... is it for the better or the worst?

Warnings: mentions of nyctophobia (afraid of the dark) and social anxiety, nsfw content (MDNI), public sex,

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Masterlists

Read part one here

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Mingyu had made it his mission to find every possible way to make your life miserable, seemingly for no reason. One morning, you walked into your morning meeting right on time, only to discover that he had moved the meeting to another room at the last minute, causing you to arrive late. It was always petty, small things that your superiors could easily overlook. His antics were infuriating, and yet, on the rare days when he didn’t pull something, you found yourself believing that he might change. Wishful thinking, perhaps. Despite how annoyed Kim Mingyu could make you, you couldn’t deny that you found him incredibly attractive—especially not when he gave you every opportunity to check him out.

Mingyu's wardrobe consisted exclusively of tight button-ups and form-fitting trousers. Each day, he strutted into the office in yet another stylish and flattering outfit. His walk was confident, bordering on a swagger. If it was chilly, he wore a coat over his suit; if it was warm, he tossed his suit jacket over his shoulder and rolled his sleeves messily up to his elbows. It was the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a French romantic movie—elegant clothes, subtle showing off, and fiery glances.

Things only got more complicated after he stopped tormenting you. That morning, you came into the office a little late. You had missed your first alarm, and of course, the train you took had to shut down. You ran into the office, stopping by your desk to grab a few papers for the meeting. To your surprise, there was a yellow post-it note stuck on your papers. "Meeting moved to room 504," it said. You recognized Mingyu’s handwriting from all the documents you had seen him sign.

Despite the possibility that he could be playing a joke on you, you decided to trust the note—and, sure enough, the meeting had been moved. When you walked into the meeting, which had only just started, Mingyu sent you a smile. Not the usual evil smirk but a genuine smile. After apologizing for being late and making a small comment about train trouble, you sat down.

Since the incident on the train home a few weeks ago, things had been different. The station had been packed, making it impossible not to stand close to him, or anyone else. Air wouldn’t reach the bottom of your lungs, your muscles tensed up, and a lump formed in your throat. You tried to close your eyes and do breathing exercises, but it had no effect. When the train arrived, Mingyu walked close behind you as you were practically pushed through the doors. As your heartbeat quickened to an alarming pace, Mingyu grabbed your arm and led you to a secluded corner of the train. He shielded you from the crowd with his body, giving you enough space to breathe.

While that was comforting, albeit a little embarrassing, it got worse when the train had a minor accident. The sudden and aggressive brake would have thrown you across the train, seeing as you had nothing to hold onto, but Mingyu’s strong arm wrapped around your waist. He held both of you upright by gripping tightly onto the railing. Instinctively, you hugged him to keep yourself steady but tried to pull away as soon as the train stopped. Just a second later, the lights went out, and Mingyu gripped you tighter. Your head was pressed against his chest, and you could hear his quickened heartbeat. He was scared of the dark. You stayed in place, letting him squeeze you against him—pretending not to notice his shaking hands.

When the train started up again, you both acted like nothing had happened. However, ever since that day, your work relationship with Mingyu has changed. He was kind to you for once; he helped you out when you had a lot of work to do, he had lunch with you, and he left you little notes about last-minute changes in plans. Was he scared you’d tell people he was afraid of the dark? Were all of his kind acts some sort of backward blackmail? Despite these questions, your view of Mingyu began to shift.

You still watched him walk into the office every morning, like a predator stalking its prey. But now, instead of a quick glance, Mingyu would turn to you and greet you with a warm smile. When he tried to strike up a conversation, you pretended to be busy—which wasn’t difficult, since you actually were busy. Although your coworker had suddenly become a big part of your day, your most important task was to get all of your work done by the end of the month.

So you found yourself staying late at work, just happening to pick the same day as Mingyu to do overtime. Neither of you said anything to each other, you didn’t even notice that everyone had left except for him until you stood up to stretch out your stiff limbs. As soon as you spot him on the other side of the desk, his face lit up by his monitor, you jump back with a loud yelp. Mingyu breaks out into a big grin as he tries to hold back his laughter. You try to fix your disheveled-looking self, having taken out your stress on your physical appearance while working.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Working,” he answered. “What else?”

“You’re so-” You sat back down in your chair with a groan and rubbed the tiredness from your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Mingyu peaked at you from behind his monitor.

No wonder you hadn’t seen him before. Despite the man being over six feet, and bigger than most men in the office, he wasn’t bigger than the giant monitors that your office had gotten you. He had to stretch, just ever so slightly, to get his eye-line over the edge of the monitor. You narrowed your eyes at him, any of your normal social capabilities had flown out the window as soon as you stayed in the office past five o’clock.

“You’re wrong,” you muttered, “I do. Leave me alone.”

“You’re the one who interrupted me,” Mingyu argued.

You stayed quiet, long enough for Mingyu to return to whatever he was doing on his computer. An irritation bubbled up your throat as comebacks and retorts whirred around your brain. However, your brain was already tired and so, while you wanted to respond with a jaw-dropping comment, all you could do was huff and sigh. Looking at the clock, you realize how late it was. If you started going home now you wouldn’t get there until very late, which meant you’d want to sleep in just a little extra.

You closed the things you had been working on to pull up your schedule - of course, you had an early morning meeting. A meeting where you had to prepare a few copies of the new agenda you had been working on. If you printed them now, you’d still be able to sleep in. With a new surge of motivation, you clicked print on your document and hurried over to the office printer. It stood in the corner of the room, mostly gathering dust since you were one of the few who still used it.

You could feel Mingyu’s eyes burning holes in your back, but you refused to look back. Everything went smoothly, the printer started and you scanned your tag so that it could print out your papers. However, as you pressed on the document you wanted to print, it stopped. You cursed under your breath as you kicked the side of the machine - it didn’t help, of course. You sighed and put your forehead against your palm. By now you could’ve had the copies on your desk in a neat pile, walking out of here and leaving Mingyu in the dust. As if he could read your thoughts, you felt the tall man come up from behind you. He looked over your shoulder and let out a low whistle.

“This is why you should just send out digital copies,” he murmured next to your ear, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“You use the printer, too.” You try not to move, if you did you’d end up backing into his broad chest - and you could not be reminded of how good it felt to have him press you against him during that train ride.

“Ah, but I know how to push its buttons.”

At this point, you thought he must have been teasing you—pushing your buttons. Mingyu reached around you, his arms encapsulating you against the machine, and with one hand he pressed a few buttons to get the machine starting again - the other just rested on the printer. His face was right next to yours now, his entire body was practically engulfing you despite his skin never quite touching yours.

The hand that had held your head up now came down to lay on your chest as if it could help keep your heartbeat down. You didn’t know if it was his body heat, or if you were actually able to create this much warmth on your own, but you were getting increasingly hot under your work clothes. The printer beeped in approval of Mingyu’s touch, and your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden sound. Your papers started printing, but Mingyu didn’t move. He put his hands down on the hard plastic, keeping you caged in.

“See? Not that hard,” he hummed.

“I guess not.” You tried to swallow the clump that had built up in your throat, but it was an impossible feat.

For some reason, you turned your head to look at him. At your movements, he also shifted to look at you. His eyes drifted to your lips before he caught himself and looked back at your eyes. His gaze was heavy, and you almost couldn’t hold eye contact - at the same time it was thrilling and, like driving past a car crash on the highway, you couldn’t look away. It was as if his eyes were begging you for something, you just couldn’t figure out what.

His breath fanned against your lips, reminding you of how close he was. Your lips parted, as you were about to say something, but the beeping sound of the printer being done broke the tension. Mingyu grumbled something under his breath, but you couldn’t hear it over the happy, unaware, printer noises. He moved away from you, gathering all of your papers and handing them to you. As you took the papers from his hands, your hand brushed against his and sparks ran from your fingertips through the rest of your body. This was bad.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I’ll be heading out now…”

“Let me walk you,” Mingyu offered a little bit too quickly.

The cold air outside the building was a blessing in disguise. You were shivering, but at least you got the opportunity to cool down. You could barely speak to him, only making short comments here and there - and he did the same. Despite the cooling air, the tension was still there. Had he wanted to kiss you before? Was he sleep-deprived or something?

The train ride wasn’t any better, but at least you had a reason to be silent. He offered you the last seat on the train, opting to stand and hold onto the strap handle right in front of your seat. You kept your eyes on your lap for the entire ride, only looking up when you had to get off the train at your stop. As you exited the station, you quickly said goodbye and walked in different directions. When you came home, you quickly took off your work clothes, and washed your face, before making yourself a quick, and a little sad, dinner. Then, finally, you got to throw yourself into bed and hide away from everything that had to do with Kim Mingyu…

When you walked into the office the next morning, you were the only one there. You walked over to your desk, smiling at the neat pile of papers on your desk. Seeing as you had arrived so early, you went over to the coffee machine and made yourself a cup. As you waited, you turned around to lean against the counter only to see Mingyu sitting by his desk right in front of you. He was turned towards you, his usually neat hair now a mess, and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone - the light blue one, that fit him like a glove, and that he had matched with the navy blue slacks. He was slightly slouching in his chair, his legs spread out wide.

“Oh! You scared me…” You let out a breath and tried to laugh the situation off.

One of his hands beckoned you over and, for whatever reason, you obeyed. You were right in front of him, standing in between his legs. He looked up at you with big, puppy-like eyes and patted his thigh. Suddenly, you were naked and straddling his lap - riding him. As you kept bouncing up and down on his thick cock, his hands were traveling all over your body. You gripped onto his nice shirt, wrinkling the material.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he moaned. “Fuck yeah, keep going…”

As your legs grew tired, your movements got sloppy. Mingyu noticed and picked you up with ease. With one swipe of his hand, he pushed everything off his desk to lay you down on it. His fingers gripped your hips, so tight that they must have left marks, as he slammed into you. All of his clothes were gone now, his bare chest and rippling abs on display for you.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? You can do that, can’t you?” His voice was condescending, but you didn’t have it in you to bite back.

You moaned out his name, as your orgasm approached quickly…which is when you woke up.

You sat straight up in bed. The sun was trying its best to get through your blinds, and your clock said 6:14 am - sixteen minutes away from your alarm. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets tightly as if it could help you get rid of your thoughts. It was impossible. Images of Mingyu’s blissed-out expression were ingrained into your skull. With little to no shame left in you, you reached over to your bedside table and took out the vibrator you had hidden in the second drawer.

When you got to work that morning, you went straight for the kitchen. Unlike in your dream, the coffee machine was not in the office space - yet another unrealistic thing, you thought, so you shouldn’t pay any attention to it at all. Right? You took out a cup from the cupboard and poured yourself a large cup of black coffee.

It was when you heard his laugh that you realized that you couldn’t logic yourself out of this. Did he know? Could he suddenly read minds? You turned around to see him talking with a few of your colleagues. Always the social butterfly. He was wearing the same outfit he had in your dream, the sleeves of his blue button-up deliciously rolled up to his elbows—showing off his veiny hands and arms—because of course he had to wear that today. He was too attractive for his own good. When he noticed you staring, he smiled and waved. You sent him a small smile and quickly left the room.

This was just because you had snooped around on his Instagram once or twice, you convinced yourself. He really should stop posting photos of his vacations or of him in the gym—posting half-naked pictures of yourself shouldn’t be allowed… at least not for him. You picked up the neat paper pile from your desk, suddenly remembering last night’s incident again. Kim Mingyu needed to get the fuck out of your head.

You were first in the meeting room, putting out papers on everyone’s desk before sitting down in your usual seat. A few minutes later, the rest of the team walked in - including Mingyu. He sat down right in front of you, and you felt like dying when he tried to get your eye contact again. The meeting started, and your supervisor thanked you for the documents. After telling her that it was no big deal, you didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting. You barely even noticed, you just nodded and laughed whenever everyone else did—none of the words they said processed in your brain, as it was far too busy trying to not think about having sex with Kim Mingyu. Which is why when he said your name, you almost flew out of your chair.

“Sorry, what?” You did your best to compose yourself while your colleagues snickered.

“You can do that, can’t you?” he repeated.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? You can do that, can’t you?”

You wanted to hide under the table, desperate to hide the way your face started heating up.

“Book a dinner at the restaurant?” he added when he saw you hesitate to answer.

“Oh, sure.” You cleared your throat. “... which restaurant?”

The rest of your team laughed again, someone commenting on how you should start getting more sleep. You had slept. You had slept wonderfully, in fact, but you couldn’t tell them that. Your supervisor told you that she’d write the name down for you and that you just had to call and check if they had anything open for a party of 25—the number of people working on the company’s latest project. You quickly agreed and accepted the note from her.

The week couldn’t go any slower, but eventually, you got to Friday. You had called the restaurant and booked it up for the following week, and you had finished all of your tasks. Everything was looking up for you, and the dream of Mingyu was hidden in the back of your brain. Although, you couldn’t help but try to avoid him. It was difficult enough to look him in the eye, let alone have a conversation with him. The most you could do was sit silently at your desk while he worked at his desk right in front of you, and even that was difficult.

Mingyu picked up on your weird behavior during that first meeting and immediately got worried that he had gone too far by the printer. He tried talking to you, but it was impossible. You always found an excuse to avoid him - whether it was another colleague calling your name, that he couldn’t hear, or if you had extra work you had to get done. Now, at the end of the week, he knew that you had finished all of your work as your boss had just praised you for it in front of him.

The next time Mingyu tried to talk to you, you were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, and the gentle hum of the machine was oddly soothing. Mingyu approached his presence immediately setting your nerves on edge.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual yet expectant.

You felt a pang of panic and quickly blurted out, “Oh, I just remembered—I forgot something in the storage room.”

Without waiting for his response, you abandoned your half-filled coffee cup on the counter and hurried out of the kitchen, your heart racing.

Mingyu watched you go, frustration was evident in his eyes. He had had enough of your evasions. Determined to get to the bottom of things, he followed you to the storage room.

When he walked in, the dim lighting cast long shadows over the stacks of boxes and shelves. He found you standing in a corner, nervously picking at your fingernails. You weren’t searching for anything; instead, you were doing absolutely nothing to find the supposed item you had forgotten. Your eyes were fixed on the floor, and your shoulders were tense, betraying your unease.

“What are you doing here?” you asked quickly.

“I need to talk to you.” Mingyu walked closer to you, and you had nowhere to go except to press yourself against the wall.

“No, you don’t,” you peeped.

“Did I do something?”

“No-”

“Then what’s your problem with me? Why are you ignoring me?”

“Mr. Kim-”

“Did I go too far by the printer? I’m sorry if I did- I really am, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wish we could talk about it-”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you interrupted.

“... then why have you been ignoring me?”

You scoffed and tried to argue that you actually hadn’t ignored him, it must have just seemed like it since you had been so busy. But Mingyu quickly caught onto your bullshit.

“Y/N, please. Talk to me.” He sighed. “I know I’ve been an ass to you, and I’m sorry, but I’ve been trying to make it up to you ever since the- the train…”

“Mr. Kim-”

“Mingyu,” he said, “please.”

“Mingyu… you didn’t do anything, I promise. I just…” How were you supposed to tell him that you had a dream about him fucking you and that you then masturbated to the thought of said dream? Yeah… maybe leave that last part out. Still, you owed him some sort of explanation.

“Has something happened? Did someone tell you something?” He sounded worried.

“No- no… I just had… a dream about you.” You practically whispered out the last part.

“A dream?” Not only was Kim Mingyu attractive, smart, and funny, but he apparently also had super-sonic hearing.

“Yeah… it’s awkward, I’m sorry. This is why I didn’t want to tell you-”

Instead of backing away, like you thought he would, he walked closer to you. Your back was against the cold wall now, you had nowhere to go unless you wanted to jump over an old table or crash through a shelf. Parkour was not your strong suit, and definitely not in heels, so you stayed in place.

“What was the dream about?” He was towering over you again, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“Mingyu, please…” you whined. “It was embarrassing enough to dream it, don’t make me say it out loud.”

“I want to know how you dream of me,” he said and put his arm on the wall behind you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he inched closer to you. His forehead was almost touching yours. In his eyes, you could see that same heaviness that you felt the night you were doing overtime with him. You felt compelled to tell him, you had to see where this would lead.

“We were in the office.” Your eyes darted to his lips as he wet them with the tip of his tongue. “I had just arrived, and you were the only one there…”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed. “And then?”

“Then you beckoned me over to your desk and…” Your face flushed. “Please don’t make me say it, Mingyu.”

“I want to hear what I did to you for you to get so flustered.” He reached up to cup your face with the hand that wasn’t still on the wall behind you. “Come on, baby. Spit it out.”

“I fucked you in your office chair.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Then you had your way with me on your desk…”

“And did you cum, baby?” he muttered.

You couldn’t answer, the words stuck in your throat. He grinned and leaned his forehead against yours. The feeling of his, much colder, skin against your flustered face made your eyes flutter shut. Now that you couldn’t see him looking at you, you gathered up the strength to continue.

“I woke up before I could cum,” you admitted.

“What a shame…” He paused and watched as you bit down on your bottom lip. “Unless you took care of it afterward… did you touch yourself to the thought of me, baby?”

“Yes…” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, “I’ve done it too.”

“You have?” You opened your eyes again.

“Believe me,” he said, “You’re not the only one with dirty dreams, sweetheart… Do you want me to make your dreams come true?”

You thought that you hadn’t heard him right, or that you were dreaming of him again. But when you nodded, and he leaned in, your breath hitched in anticipation. When his lips finally pressed against yours, the firm, demanding pressure confirmed that this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

His kiss was intense, igniting a primal hunger within you. The warmth of his mouth, the taste of him, was far better than any fantasy. Your hands instinctively gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of him. Mingyu’s hands roamed your back, pressing you tightly against his body, the heat between you rising rapidly.

Every touch, every movement, fueled the fire inside you. The real Kim Mingyu was solid, warm, and undeniably present, far surpassing any wild thoughts your mind could conjure. This was raw, physical desire, a craving that demanded to be satisfied.

That’s how you ended up on the old table in the storage room, with Mingyu’s cock buried deep in your cunt. His strong hands gripped your waist hard, and he used that grip to mercilessly pound into you. The two of you had barely had time to take off your clothes properly; your pants were shoved down to your ankles, and your shirt pulled up to expose the swell of your breast, meanwhile, the bottom of Mingyu’s shirt was pulled between his teeth, keeping it out of the way for him to continue absolutely ruining you. Mingyu’s pants were pulled down just far enough for him to pull his dick out, and you hoped that his pants are dark enough to hide the stain that your juices are definitely leaving on him.

“Don’t stop-” you hissed out through gritted teeth.

While the storage unit was secluded, it wasn’t soundproof. You tried your best to contain all of your noises, but Mingyu seemed to have a mission to push all of your buttons until you were screaming his name. One of his hands traveled from your hip to your clit, where he furiously rubbed small circles over the bud. You were practically convulsing on the table at this point, clenching around him sporadically.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum-”

“Yes- shit- cum inside me,” you moaned.

The man above you lost his mind at your words, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he pushed his hips against yours. He came, and you soon followed him into paradise from his work on your clit. Mingyu’s form slumped over yours, his head lying by your shoulder. With a groan, he pulled out of you. Before his cum could trickle out of you, he pulled your panties and your pants back up.

“Don’t want you to make a mess and expose us, right?” he hummed. “Can you keep it in for me, baby?”

You couldn’t respond and only nodded yes. While you lay still on the table, Mingyu got dressed. The shuffling of his clothes slowly woke you up from your drowsed state, and you slowly sat up as you heard him buckling his belt. He had managed to tuck his wrinkly shirt into his pants, although it didn’t look as proper as it did this morning. He noticed you staring when he put the belt through the final hoop. Mingyu’s hair was a mess, probably from your relentless tugging on it, and his pupils were blown out.

“Do I look okay?” he asked with a small smile.

“You looked like you just got fucked in a storage room,” you deadpanned as you started fixing your clothes.

“I’m not the one who got fucked,” he argued, grinning wide.

“Don’t talk semantics with me right now.” You groaned.

As you stood up your legs were a little shaky, but, even worse, you could feel Mingyu’s cum dripping out of you and soiling your panties. The fact that you were getting turned on by it was something you didn’t dare say out loud. Mingyu’s cocky grin at your facial expression was embarrassing enough.

“Same time next week?” he joked.

“Fuck off.”

And yet, just a few days later, you were back in the storage room with Mingyu. It wasn’t your fault that he had a body sculpted by the gods, and possibly the best dick you’ve ever had. Despite hating him outside of this storage unit, you let yourself love the way his large hands manhandle you in that storage room. There’s always an urgency to Mingyu’s touch and you can’t tell if it’s because he wants to get it over with, or if he’s just that into you.

Every time you're free, from then on, you leave little post-it notes on his desk, and he does the same for you. Usually, it’s a question like “Got time?” or “Meet up later?”, but when one of you is feeling particularly needy—like when Mingyu decided to wear a tight-fitting t-shirt instead of his usual button-ups—you just write “five minutes”.

That wasn’t the only way the two of you got creative. Sometimes you didn’t make it all the way to the storage room, sometimes Mingyu would sneak you into a bathroom or a meeting room with curtains. After a few weeks of this, you’d been eaten out in your usual meeting chair, fucked against a bathroom mirror, and you had cum more times than you could count in that storage room.

At this point, you got embarrassed whenever your coworkers said they were going to the storage room - if only they knew. One of them almost found out once. You were unsure of who it was, but while Mingyu was eating you out in the storage room someone had tried to get in. The footsteps could be heard outside the door, and you had desperately tried to push Mingyu away. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he continued eating you out on the old, creaky, table. You didn’t try to fight it, instead throwing a hand over your mouth and hoping that the door was locked. Luckily for you, it was. Mingyu had known but said nothing to you at the moment. You punished him with ignoring his pleas for sex for a few days, before eventually giving in to your urges.

It’s late, and you’re still in the office—working overtime, just like the evening that it all started. You were sitting in front of your computer, still working on a current project that you had been procrastinating on. It wasn’t the fault of Mingyu; the frequent sex with him had, surprisingly, led to the two of you getting a better work ethic. Getting your frustrations out on each other worked wonders on your projects, to the point where your supervisor praised you both for the amount of work you had gotten done.

Mingyu sits by the desk in front of you, unlike you he is not working. He was watching you, and you knew it. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes—if it was one thing that he did like his life depended on it, it was getting horny by the slightest things. You had gotten slightly undressed; you had unbuttoned the top buttons on your shirt—it really only exposed your collarbones.

“Y/N,” Mingyu rasped.

“Not now, I’m still working,” you muttered.

He groaned, throwing his head back and bumping his head on the back of his chair. You chuckled, not taking your eyes away from your screen—yet, you knew that he was pouting. Still not looking up, you heard him get up and walk behind you. He placed his warm hands on your shoulders, the weight of them forced you to relax your stiff muscles. Gently, he started working his thumbs into your flesh.

“You could use a break,” he hummed.

“I have to get this done,” you said, trying to bite back the sounds Mingyu’s hands were beginning to pull out of you.

“Just quickly?” His voice was right by your ear now, and he bent further down to press a kiss to your neck. “I need you.”

“You always do.” You sighed, partially out of annoyance but also because Mingyu’s thumb had found a sore spot in your left shoulder.

“Ouch.” He chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that next time you want me.”

His hands traveled from the curve of your neck to your upper arms. As he loomed over you, encasing you completely, it got harder for you to breathe - your lungs would only fill halfway before you had to breathe out again. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his breath by your ear. Mingyu’s lips found your neck and he left soft pecks along your delicate skin.

“I’ll be in the meeting room,” he whispered in your ear.

Mingyu left your side, and a chill ran down your spine as his warmth left you with him. You were staring at your screen again, the light harsh on your eyes. With a frustrated sigh, you turned off the computer and stood up from your chair. You knew which meeting room Mingyu was talking about - because there was only one meeting room that didn’t have cameras or windows on the doors.

When you opened the door, you were met with the mouth-watering sight of Mingyu shrugging off his button-up - his muscles moving delicately under his skin. How he got so ripped, you will never know; you just assumed he had been blessed by some other-worldly creature. He looked over his shoulder with a cocky grin playing on his lips, his canines flashing.

“You came,” he said.

“You knew I would,” you answered.

He turned around to allow you to see an even more heavenly sight and as he walked toward you, you were at a loss for words. Mingyu’s hands easily found your waist as he pulled you in closer, still grinning about winning the game of your attention.

“Yeah, I did,” he murmured before pressing a kiss on your lips.

Your hands were on his chest in a matter of seconds, pushing him towards an empty chair - getting no protests from the man in front of you. When Mingyu sat down, you got on top of him. You straddled his lap and connected your lips again, as you began grinding against his crotch. The always needy Mingyu gripped you tighter, his hands being his only way of expressing his deep desire when your mouth was drowning out his whimpers. Your movements never stopped, but your lips traveled from his lips to his neck - allowing him to make whatever noises he needed to. As your fingertips explored his exposed chest, testing out what would bring the biggest reaction out of him, you felt him hardening against your clothed core.

The pencil skirt you were wearing had ridden up to sit on your hips, and Mingyu took the opportunity to grab your almost bare ass. You remember the first time you had worn this to the office - you always wore slack out of comfort, but ever since your escapades with your coworker, you had wanted to dress up more - and the image of Mingyu’s, almost pained, expression had been enough for you to keep wearing it, that and how rough he fucked you during the days you decided to tease him with it. Today was that kind of day, as you slid down from his lap and onto your knees on the floor.

“I’ll bring you coffee from the place across the street every morning, if you please suck me off right now,” Mingyu just about begged.

“I was already planning on doing that,” you murmured as you palmed him over his pants. “But I’ll take you up on that offer anyway.”

You went to unbuckle his pants, and Mingyu lifted his hips off immediately. Words of praise slipped out of your lips at his good behavior, and he let out a soft whimper - you would have to remember this for later. After pulling down his pants, you let your nails drag down his thighs. He was visibly hard through his underwear, and it made your mouth water. You palmed him again, peering up at him through your lashes as you did. Mingyu’s pupils were almost entirely covering his iris, his eyebrows knitted together, and his teeth biting down on his bottom lip to hold in his moans. You licked along his clothed cock before playing with the hem of his underwear.

“There’s no one else here,” you murmured. “Don’t hold back on me, baby.”

At your command, Mingyu let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in - a soft moan coming out with it. He nodded and lifted his hips up again for you to pull off his underwear. His pretty cock slapped against his abdomen, and you took it in your hand to guide it back to your mouth. Pressing a sweet kiss to his tip had Mingyu shivering.

You noticed his hands gripping the armrests like his life depended on it, so - before you took him in your mouth - you had mercy on him and guided his hands to your head instead. Mingyu’s fingers entangled themselves in your hair as if he had done it a thousand times before. When you took him in your mouth, he gasped and whined - he tried to push his hips up, but you pushed him back down again. The part of his length you can’t take in your mouth, you stroke with your hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Mingyu moaned. “You’re going to be the death of me… please, let me cum on your tits this time? No one’s around to see it—”

You pop your mouth off his cock but keep stroking it with the same roughness and fast pace, enjoying watching him fall apart for you. “You’ll cum in my mouth or you won’t cum at all. I’m not walking home with stains on my shirt.”

Mingyu huffed, but couldn’t bring himself to complain. “... could I cum inside you?”

You looked up at him with a knowing smile. At this point, you were convinced he had a breeding kink of some sort—even if you were on birth control, the thought of cumming inside of you still made him go mad.

“Fine.” You stood back up.

Mingyu adjusted himself in his seat as you took off your panties. You pushed the wet fabric into his mouth, and he moaned around it. “To keep you quiet,” you said.

He always got so loud when you were riding him. You stayed clothed and got on his lap again. Mingyu’s hands settled on your hips while you guided his cock to your entrance. A satisfied sigh left your lips when you sank down on him. Grinding on him, you took your time to adjust to his size—which was driving Mingyu to insanity.

“Please.” His voice was muffled by the fabric of your underwear and he peered up at you with big, almost teary eyes.

You take pity on him—such a big, brawny man and he can’t bring himself to grip your hips and have his way with you—so, you start moving. It wasn’t always that he was like this, but you always enjoyed yourself thoroughly when he was. Mingyu groaned and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. His fingers grip your hips roughly but didn’t use his strength to move you to his will.

“Oh god–” He let out a muffled moan as you clenched around him.

You brought your hand up to his cheek and cooed at him. “Who makes you feel this good?”

“You.”

“That’s right. Good boy.” You smiled proudly and pressed your lips on his.

Mingyu hungrily responded, pushing forward in his chair and wrapping his strong arms around your frame to press you further against him. The chair creaked and croaked, but you paid no mind to it. All of your focus had to be on Mingyu.

“Cum for me, please?” you murmured against his lips.

Mingyu pulled away slightly to look into your eyes, but you never stopped moving. “Inside?”

“Inside.” You nodded.

For the first time this rendezvous, Mingyu took control of you. His hands picked you up so that he could start rutting up into you. You brought down one of your hands to rub your clit, determined to cum with him. You’re close. The coil in your stomach is about to snap, and when it does you see stars. Mingyu let out a groan as you spasmed around him, and spilled himself inside you. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you close while he comes down from his high.

When Mingyu leaned back, his breathing heavy, you found yourself still catching your breath. He took your panties out of his mouth, throwing them on his pile of clothes—no doubt planning on making you walk home without them. The rawness of your connection lingers in the air, charged with an electric tension. A sudden, unexpected stillness envelops the room. You feel Mingyu's warmth radiating against you. When you meet his gaze, you expect the teasing yet unattached Mingyu. But this time, there's something different in his eyes – a softness, a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

Before you could process the change, he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and deliberate. His thumb brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek, and then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, lingering – a stark contrast to the fervor of just moments before. His lips pressed against yours with a chaste, almost reverent tenderness, conveying emotions words could never express.

In that instant, as his lips melded with yours in a delicate dance, a realization dawned upon you. This wasn’t just a fleeting affair or a simple coworkers-with-benefits arrangement. There was something deeper here, something profound and undeniable. The kiss ended, but the impact of it resonated within you, leaving you breathless and irrevocably changed.

Mingyu pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours as if silently asking if you felt it too. And as you looked at him, heart pounding, you knew that things between you would never be the same. You pulled back and stood up from his lap, the weight of the kiss heavy on your mind. Mingyu’s eyes, still soft with lingering tenderness, followed your every move.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice a gentle plea. “What’s wrong?”

You averted your gaze, focusing on the scattered papers on the table. “This… this wasn’t supposed to happen,” you stumbled over your words, your heart racing. “We agreed to keep things simple. No feelings, no complications.”

Mingyu stood up, his expression earnest. “I know, but…” He reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “That kiss… it meant something, didn’t it?”

You pulled your hand away, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. “It can’t mean anything, Mingyu. We can’t afford to complicate things.”

His eyes searched yours, a mix of hope and vulnerability. “Why does it have to be complicated?”

You shake your head, taking another step back. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”

You paused at the door, glancing back at him. His eyes held a silent plea, but your own feelings are too tangled to unravel just yet.

You’ve been avoiding Mingyu since that day in the meeting room. The memory of his tender kiss haunted you, a constant reminder of the emotions you’ve been trying to suppress. At work, you kept your interactions strictly professional, dodging his attempts to talk. It was easier to bury your feelings beneath a facade of indifference.

Tonight, the team was out for dinner, a rare occasion meant to celebrate the completion of a big project. The restaurant was lively, filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. You sat at the end of the table, nursing your drink, and tried to appear engaged in the conversation around you. But your thoughts kept drifting back to Mingyu, seated just a few places away, his eyes occasionally flicking in your direction.

As the night progressed, you felt the effects of the alcohol more acutely. The room seemed to spin slightly, and you laughed a bit too loudly at a colleague’s joke. Just as you’re about to take another sip, you felt a presence beside you. It’s Mingyu.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, trying not to draw attention.

You glanced up, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so close. “Now’s not a good time,” you muttered, looking away.

“Please,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a minute.”

With a sigh, you set your glass down and follow him to a quieter corner of the restaurant. He stopped near the entrance to the patio, the cool night air providing a brief respite from the crowded, warm interior.

“What do you want, Mingyu?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

You scoffed, the alcohol loosening your tongue. “Do something wrong? You kissed me, Mingyu. After everything, you kissed me like it meant something.”

“It did mean something,” he said softly, taking a step closer. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “We agreed this was just a physical thing. No feelings, no complications. And now you’re trying to change everything.”

“I’m not trying to change anything,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’m just being honest about how I feel.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to hear it,” you snapped, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “I can’t deal with this right now, Mingyu. It’s too much.”

The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable, but he doesn’t back down. “You’re pushing me away because you’re scared. But I’m not going anywhere. I care about you.”

“Stop it,” you say, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Just… stop.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned and walked back to the table, grabbing your drink and taking a big gulp. You could feel the weight of Mingyu’s gaze on you, but you refused to look up. The rest of the dinner was a blur, the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest. You sat at the table, isolated despite the crowd around you, and tried to drown your sadness in drink after drink.

Mingyu stayed at the other end of the table, a silent presence that you can’t ignore. You knew he was giving you space, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Each sip of your drink felt like a futile attempt to erase the memory of his kiss, the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes.

By the end of the night, you were too drunk to think straight, the world around you spinning as you stumbled to your feet. You lost count of how many glasses you downed in an effort to numb the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you. The world around you has taken on a hazy, dreamlike quality, and your steps are unsteady as you attempt to stand.

Mingyu was beside you in an instant, his strong hands gripping your arms to keep you from toppling over. “Hey, easy there,” he says, his voice laced with concern. “You’re not looking too good.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to shrug him off, but your legs betrayed you, wobbling beneath you.

“Let me take you home,” he offered, his grip tightening to support you.

“No,” you slurred, shaking your head stubbornly. “I can manage.”

Mingyu sighed, clearly unconvinced. “You can barely stand. You need help.”

“I don’t need help from you,” you snapped, the alcohol making your words sharper than intended. “I don’t even know you.”

His expression softened, a mix of hurt and understanding in his eyes. “I’m not a stranger. It’s Mingyu. Let me help you.”

You scoffed, still struggling against his hold. “Strangers can be named Mingyu too. I’m not telling a stranger where I live.”

He let out a resigned sigh, looking around the nearly empty restaurant. “Alright, if you won’t tell me where you live, I’ll take you to my place. You can sleep it off there.”

Too tired and drunk to argue further, you let him guide you out of the restaurant. The cool night air hits you like a splash of water, momentarily clearing your head. Mingyu kept a firm grip on you, his presence steady and reassuring as he led you to his car.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine a soothing background noise as you fought to keep your eyes open. Every so often, you stole glances at Mingyu, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. There was a determined set to his jaw, but his eyes flickered with concern whenever he looked your way.

When you arrived at his apartment building, he parked and helped you out of the car. The lobby was quiet, and the elevator ride up felt like it took forever. Mingyu kept an arm around you, ensuring you didn’t stumble.

Finally, you reached his apartment. He unlocked the door and guided you inside, the space warm and inviting. “You can take my bed,” he said, leading you to his bedroom. “I’ll crash on the couch.”

You nodded, too exhausted to protest. The bed was soft and comforting, and as soon as you lay down, sleep began to pull at you. Mingyu pulled a blanket over you, his touch gentle. “Get some rest,” he murmured. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You barely managed a nod before sleep claimed you, the last thing you remembered was the sound of Mingyu quietly closing the door as he left you to rest.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently rousing you from sleep. You blink, disoriented, as you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. The bed was comfortable, the sheets warm and soft, but panic gripped you as you realized you were not in your own room. Memories of the previous night come rushing back, and your heart raced as you sat up, fearing the worst.

Had you given in to temptation while drunk? You quickly glanced down, relieved to find yourself still fully clothed, albeit a bit disheveled. With a sigh of relief, you slid out of bed, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. The room was tastefully decorated, modern but cozy, and it was clear this was Mingyu’s place.

Curiosity mixed with a bit of apprehension drove you to explore the apartment. You moved quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was nearby. The living room was spacious, with large windows letting in the morning sun, and the kitchen looked sleek and well-kept. As you turned a corner, you spotted him.

Mingyu was sprawled on the couch, his face peaceful in sleep. He was wrapped in a thin blanket, one toned arm draped over his eyes to block out the light. Your eyes fell on his naked shoulders—your imagination ran wild as his blanket was pulled up over his chest. Relief washed over you as you realized he had slept here, not with you. The tension in your chest eased slightly.

As you tiptoed towards the door, the floor creaked beneath your weight. Mingyu stirred the arm over his eyes falling away as he blinked up at you, groggy but alert. “Hey,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You’re awake.”

You froze, caught in the act of sneaking out. “I’m sorry,” you stammered, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He offered a small smile, swinging his legs off the couch and standing up. He was only in pajama pants. “It’s alright. I was going to get up soon anyway.” He stretched, looking around the apartment, and pretended like he wasn’t showing off. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit hungover,” you admitted, rubbing your temples as an excuse to look down. “But otherwise okay. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Of course,” he said, walking towards the kitchen. “I didn’t want you going home in that state. Are you hungry? I can make us some breakfast.”

You hesitated, still feeling awkward about the whole situation. “You don’t have to. I should probably just get going.”

Mingyu shook his head, already pulling out a frying pan and some ingredients. “You need to eat something. Besides, we should talk.”

His tone was gentle but firm, leaving little room for argument. You nodded reluctantly, making your way to the kitchen island and sitting down. “Okay. Breakfast sounds good.”

He worked quickly, the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs soon filling the air. The domesticity of the scene feels strangely intimate, and you find yourself relaxing despite the lingering awkwardness. Mingyu moves with ease, his focus on the task at hand.

“So,” he began, glancing over at you as he cracked an egg into the pan, “about last night…”

You shifted uncomfortably on the stool. “Yeah. Sorry if I was difficult. I didn’t mean to be a burden.”

“You weren’t a burden,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And… I’m sorry if I pushed too hard. I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you.”

You sighed, fiddling with the edge of the counter. “It’s not just you. It’s everything. I’ve been trying to keep things simple, but it’s clear they’re not.”

Mingyu nodded, flipping the bacon. “I get it. This isn’t easy for me either. But maybe we can figure it out together?”

His words hung in the air, a tentative offering of hope. You met his gaze, seeing the genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said softly, the possibility of something more settling gently in your heart.

He smiled, plating the food and bringing it over to you. “Let’s take it one step at a time. For now, eat up.”

You and Mingyu sat at the kitchen island, plates of breakfast between you. The initial awkwardness had faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. As you ate, the conversation started to flow naturally. You talked about work, mutual colleagues, and light-hearted topics, gradually easing into deeper territory.

After a while, Mingyu looked at you thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, curious. “Sure.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Do you remember the train incident?”

You swallowed, memories of that night flashing in your mind. “Yeah, it’s hard to forget.”

He nodded, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. “You know, I’ve never told anyone this, but I’m scared of the dark. Always have been. That night on the train, when the power went out… I panicked. I couldn’t breathe. But then you were there.”

You looked at him, surprised by his vulnerability. “I had a feeling, I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was,” he admitted, looking down at his plate. “But your presence helped. You distracted me. I felt safe with you.”

His words touched something deep within you. “I’m glad I could help. Crowds have always been difficult for me. That night, it was overwhelming, but then you… you made it bearable.”

Mingyu looked up, his eyes locking with yours. “We helped each other that night. And it made me realize something.”

You tilted your head, heart pounding in anticipation. “What’s that?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been trying to push my feelings for you away, to keep things professional. But after that night, I couldn’t deny them anymore. I just wasn’t ready to commit, I thought our arrangement was enough.”

The conversation lingered in the air, and the unspoken emotions between you and Mingyu were finally brought to light. As the breakfast dishes sat forgotten on the counter, he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Mingyu,” you began, but he stopped you, his expression serious.

“Wait,” he said softly. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know I’ve been difficult to work with. Cold, even. And I want to explain why.” He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that’s surprisingly endearing. “My attitude towards you… it wasn’t because I disliked you. It was the opposite. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, and it scared me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I pushed you away.”

The confession hung in the air, and you felt a mixture of relief and confusion. “You were mean to me because you liked me?”

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “It sounds stupid, I know—believe me, I feel like a damn kid who can’t control himself around a pretty girl. But I thought if I kept my distance, it would be easier to ignore how I felt. Seeing you every day, working so closely with you… it was harder than I thought.”

You looked down, your mind racing. “I didn’t know,” you whisper, feeling a surge of emotions.

He reached out, gently lifting your chin so you met his gaze again. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I thought it was the only way to protect myself. But I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched for the right words. “Mingyu, I… I’ve been trying to hide my feelings too. I was scared of what it would mean for us, for our work.”

He smiled a look of understanding in his eyes. “You don’t have to hide anymore. Not from me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. “I’ve been falling for you, Mingyu. I’ve tried to ignore it, to keep things simple. But I can’t deny it any longer.”

His eyes softened and he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “I’m glad you told me. Because I’ve been falling for you too. More than I ever thought possible.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. “We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time.”

You nodded, tears of relief and happiness welling up in your eyes. “One step at a time.”

Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that felt both familiar and new. It’s filled with the promise of everything you’ve both been too afraid to acknowledge, a connection that goes beyond the physical.

As he pulled back, his eyes filled with warmth and affection, he took your hand. “Come with me,” he murmurs, leading you towards his bedroom.

You followed, your heart pounding with anticipation and excitement. In his bedroom, the atmosphere was intimate and comforting, a safe haven for the two of you to explore the depth of your feelings.

Mingyu turned to you, his gaze intense but filled with tenderness. “I want to be with you. Not just for today, but for as long as you’ll have me.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of certainty and peace. “I want that too, Mingyu. More than anything.”

He kissed you again, the passion and emotion between you growing stronger. As you moved together, every touch, every whispered word, solidified the bond you’ve both been too afraid to admit. It wasn’t just about the physical connection anymore; it was about the love that was there all along, waiting to be acknowledged—taking the time to explore it. You were lucky you had the day off.

In Mingyu’s arms, you felt a sense of completeness, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. And as you fell into each other once more, you knew that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together, one step at a time.

A few months had passed since that morning in Mingyu’s apartment. Since then, your relationship has grown deeper, richer, and more fulfilling than you ever imagined. To comply with your job’s regulations around relationships within teams, Mingyu was reassigned to a different unit. The transition was challenging, but you both found ways to maintain your connection, meeting during lunch breaks and after work, and sharing stolen moments that made the separation bearable.

As you sat at your desk, immersed in a report, the familiar rhythm of your office provided a soothing backdrop. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway, and your heart skipped a beat. Mingyu stood there, a stack of papers in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He strode over with a confidence that drew every eye in the room, placing the papers on your desk with exaggerated formality.

“Delivery from the marketing department,” he said, his tone playful and his eyes sparkling with hidden meaning.

You looked up, unable to suppress a smile. “Marketing department? Since when do they hand-deliver reports?”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Since I needed an excuse to see you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you bit back a grin. “Well, you’ve made your delivery. Anything else I can help you with, Mr. Marketing?”

Mingyu glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, then nodded subtly towards the door. “Actually, there is. Follow me.”

Intrigued, you stood up and followed him out of your office. He led you down a series of hallways, the usual hustle and bustle of the office fading away as you reached a more secluded area of the building. The quiet, unused conference room that used to be your occasional rendezvous spot, a hidden sanctuary where you could be together without prying eyes.

Once inside, Mingyu closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sealing you into your private world. He turns to face you with a smile that makes your knees weak. “I’ve missed you,” he said, stepping closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’ve missed you too. It’s been too long.”

He kissed you deeply, the passion between you reigniting instantly. The feeling of his lips against yours, the way he held you tight, all of it sent a thrill through you. When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he takes your hand and leads you to a small couch in the corner of the room.

“So, how’s the marketing department treating you?” you asked, settling into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

“It’s different,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tender touch. ��But it’s worth it. Anything is worth it if it means I get to be with you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch, savoring the moment. “I’m glad we’re still making this work.”

Mingyu’s eyes locked with yours. “Me too… I know we’ve been careful at work, but do you want to–.”

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned him. “I finally got a promotion, I can’t be caught screwing a subordinate in a conference room.”

“Damn, so I can’t even be your dirty little secret?” He grinned.

“You can’t be a dirty little secret if everyone at work knows,” you argued.

“Ah, but our friends and family don’t know yet.”

“Soon, Mingyu,” you reminded him. “We’ll tell them soon. I just need to find the right moment to tell my friends that I’m dating the guy who I’ve been complaining about since I started working here. I don’t want to give them a heart attack.”

He chuckled and squeezed your hand, his gaze unwavering. “I know. And I’m not saying we announce it to the world, but I think they deserve to know.”

You considered his words and the prospect of being more open about your relationship both exciting and daunting. “I think so too,” you said finally, a smile spreading across your face. “I want to share what we have with the people who matter to us.”

He grinned, pulling you into another kiss, his lips lingering on yours. “Good. Because I can’t wait to show you off.”

You laughed, feeling a surge of happiness. “And I can’t wait to be shown off.”

Mingyu grinned, but his expression turned slightly more somber as he looked at the clock. “We should probably get back before anyone notices we’re missing.”

You took his hand, the world of the office creeping back into your awareness. “Yeah, don’t want to give them any reason to suspect.”

He smirked, leaning in for one last kiss, a promise in his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely,” you replied, your heart light as you walked back to your office.

The workday finally drew to a close, and as you gathered your things, a familiar excitement bubbled up inside you. The office buzz gradually quieted as your colleagues filed out, leaving behind the hum of computers and the soft rustle of papers. You made your way to the lobby, where Mingyu was waiting, leaning casually against the wall. His presence was magnetic, and when he sees you, his face lights up with a smile that seems to brighten the whole room.

“Ready to go?” he asked, pushing off the wall and walking toward you, his movements fluid and confident.

“Ready,” you replied, slipping your hand into his as you stepped out into the evening air. The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of rush hour, cars honking, and people chattering as they hurry by, but all you can focus on is Mingyu beside you.

As you walk together, the warmth of his hand in yours, you fall into easy conversation. “So, what do you want to make for dinner tonight?” you asked, glancing up at him, the streetlights casting a soft glow on his face.

Mingyu tilted his head, thinking. “How about something simple but delicious? Maybe pasta?”

“Pasta sounds good,” you agreed, squeezing his hand. “We could do a creamy Alfredo with chicken and mushrooms.”

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “And maybe some garlic bread on the side?”

You laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I love garlic bread. What about dessert?”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up mischievously. “How about we bake some cookies? We can make them together.”

“Cookies it is,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought of spending a cozy evening together in the kitchen. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip,” he said decisively. “The classic.”

“Perfect,” you replied, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked. “I always love our dinner plans.”

Mingyu chuckled, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Me too. I love doing these everyday things with you. It makes everything feel more special.”

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for him. “I feel the same way. Even just walking home together like this… it’s my favorite part of the day.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you. The city noises faded into the background as he cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and tender. “Mine too,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours. “I love you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled up at him, feeling a rush of pure happiness. “I love you too, Mingyu.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was a moment of pure joy, a promise of all the simple, beautiful moments you’ll share together. When you finally pulled away, you continued your walk home, hand in hand, talking and laughing about your day and your plans for the evening.

As you reached your apartment, you felt a sense of contentment settled over you. Mingyu unlocked the door, and you stepped inside, the familiar, comforting scent of home welcoming you. The soft lighting cast a warm glow over the cozy living space and you kicked off your shoes, already imagining the delicious dinner you’ll create together.

Mingyu wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Ready to cook?”

“Ready,” you said, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “Let’s get started.”

The two of you moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, the clatter of pots and pans mixing with your laughter. You chopped vegetables, and the rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board adds to the symphony of your evening. The pasta boiled on the stove, and the rich aroma of garlic bread baking in the oven fills the air. Every so often, you stole a kiss or a playful nudge, the simple act of affection made everything feel perfect.

As the pasta simmered and the aroma of garlic bread grew more intense, you glanced at Mingyu, feeling a rush of gratitude for this wonderful, ordinary evening. “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” you said, your voice soft with emotion.

“Me too,” he replied, smiling at you, his eyes twinkling with happiness.

You nodded, knowing that you’d cherish every single one of these moments. And as you sat down to enjoy your meal, the table set with care, you felt a deep sense of happiness. Whatever the future held, you knew you would face it together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

feedback is always welcomed!

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@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01,

@loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag,

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz

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idyllic-ghost · 8 months ago

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hi! i'm leaving tumblr, and i wanted to put out an explanation post before i do.

i mainly write ff because it's a fun interaction with a fun community. recently it hasn't been so fun.

yes, i'm busy with work so i haven't had time - but even if i did have the time, i wouldn't reach to start writing like i used to. people always say this, but because of lack of interaction (i'm specifically referring to comments and/or reblogs) i've lost interest.

i have a few fics lined up for the next few months, they're all waiting in my queue to be posted once a month up until march. they were all written during the summer or earlier, i've just been putting off posting them. after that, i don't have more, and i'm not sure that there will be more.

i have a lot to say, and i'm not expecting anyone to read it, but if you want to know why i'm leaving then this is it.

(if you've been tagged in this and wonder why, but don't want to read further: don't worry! i didn't tag anyone intentionally, i took from my moots and my taglist to spread the word that i'm leaving this blog. you haven't done anything wrong, and i'm not expecting you specifically to read the rest of this!)

the only reason i stayed on here was because i loved seeing people interact with my writing, it made me happy to see that people enjoy my writing. nowadays, i basically get nothing. since i'm not doing this for anyone but myself, i'm not going to continue doing something that ends with me being disappointed and envious.

my writing feels lifeless to me because i'm not actually interested in what i'm doing anymore. i write, get it done, send it out, and hope that at least someone will tell me that they like it. it feels pathetic to write out, but i feel like some people may agree. the only times i ended up getting that kind of interaction was when i wrote smut.

i was never a smut writer, it wasn't something i was extremely comfortable with. i think there are a lot of people who do it very well, and that's good for them. i'm just not one of them. after being put in sexual situations in my personal life that i, in hindsight, did not feel comfortable with and deeply regret, i don't see myself being comfortable with writing smut again. (the posts with nsfw content that come out in the next few months were written before i came to this realization, for context.)

it's weird and embarrassing when you feel like you'd never fall for pressure of norms and then suddenly you do! i look back at this blog and it doesn't feel like me, and now i get it. it's not wrong or upsetting, just a change of perspectives.

i think it's great that people can write smut and share it on here, and i don't want anyone to think that i am against it. i have simply come to the point where it makes me uncomfortable, so i'm taking myself out of those kinds of situations (as anyone should do if they feel the same way, do not harass people who write smut simply because of its nsfw content that you're personally uncomfortable with). if i do return to writing in this way, in this forum and genre, again, i know that i won't be writing smut.

all of this to say, i'm not going to be on here anymore. i might read a few things here and there, because i do still really love reading fluff from the amazing fluff writers out there, but i won't post. maybe i'll create a new blog for reblogging fluff fics or something. i've lost interest and that's that. i'm hoping that i can write my own book some day, and if i do i've only managed to do so because i got to practice writing on here.

this was fun while it lasted, and i definitely don't regret making this blog. so, thank you to everyone who supported this blog, i've loved reading your comments. thank you to the people who have helped me in my writing, i hope that you know who you are.

tumblr is filled with blank blogs and people who won't comment on fics they actually like. if you ended up reading all of this, i encourage you to go comment on a writer's fic with some nice words. it's always appreciated, i promise.

that's all!

tagging a few people so that this post is actually seen:

@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan,

@userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck,

@fantasy2wonderland, @k-fic-collection @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @svthub @stariightjoyy,

@hyneyedfiz, @cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs,

@dokyeomkyeom, @kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1 @iamawkwardandshy,

@wonuskie @kvanity-main

#bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*#this is becoming a literal ghost blog now

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idyllic-ghost · 8 months ago

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Title: Unveiling Hearts: The Law of Attraction Pairing: lawyer!Joshua x fem!lawyer!reader Genre: rivals to lovers, coworkers to lovers, lawyer au, romance, smut, fluff, angst Wordcount: 13.4k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Two former law school rivals are forced to confront their past and present when they end up working together at the same firm. As old tensions resurface, their professional and personal lives become entangled, leading to unexpected challenges. Through rivalry and collaboration, they navigate the complexities of their relationship and careers, discovering that some connections are meant to be re-examined.

Warnings: reader is afab, smut (MDNI), slight dom/sub dynamics, switch!reader, switch!joshua, drunk sex, sex without protection (reader is on birth control), self-doubt, fighting (verbally)

A/N: this is a collab made by @haologram - find the Don't Hate, Litigate! masterlist here!

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

As soon as your eyes flutter open, an unsettling sensation grips you. Despite the blinds being tightly drawn, an unusual brightness floods the room, casting an eerie glow on the walls. The familiar muffled sound of your neighbor’s TV, a constant background noise every morning, is conspicuously absent. This odd silence is jarring. Your heart races as you turn to glance at the clock, its digital display blinking erratically, showing a time far later than your usual wake-up. Panic sets in as you realize your alarm never went off, and you've overslept by a crucial half-hour.

With a string of curses, you stumble out of bed, your feet tangling in the sheets as you lurch toward the closet. Frantically, you grab the first outfit in sight. The button-down shirt you pull on is slightly wrinkled, and you tuck it into your pencil skirt with hurried, sloppy movements. You mutter under your breath, knowing that this disheveled look is a problem for the future you to handle.

Struggling with your pantyhose, you nearly topple over, muttering a string of curses. "Damn you, alarm clock, this is all your fault," you grumble, your voice tinged with frustration. Finally dressed, you sprint into the kitchen, where the unfamiliarity of your new space looms large. "Where are the cups?" you groan, flinging open cabinets and drawers in a frantic search. Each empty cabinet and misplaced item heightens your frustration, making your heart race even faster. After what feels like an eternity, you stumble upon a bowl and, with a resigned sigh, decide it will have to do for your much-needed coffee.

Tofu, your white, fluffy cat, watches you with an air of amused indifference. His emerald eyes follow your every move as you haphazardly brew coffee in the bowl. "Really, Tofu? Just going to sit there and judge me?" you mutter, glancing at him. He meanders over to his food bowl's usual spot, looking at you expectantly. "Great, even the cat knows this place better than I do," you sigh, shaking your head. You scoop out his food and place the bowl on the tray, giving him a quick pet. "Bye, Tofu. Be good," you say, but he merely flicks his tail and turns his back, more interested in his breakfast than your farewell.

Turning to the hallway mirror, you take a moment to compose yourself. You meticulously smooth down each unruly wisp of hair and straighten your blazer with unwavering attention to detail. The reflection staring back at you looks polished and composed, a stark contrast to the chaos of your morning. Satisfied, you grab your bag and dart out the door, mentally steeling yourself for the whirlwind of tasks and challenges that await.

As you arrive at the law firm, you navigate the bustling corridors, your mind already racing with the tasks you need to catch up on. The familiar hum of office chatter and the clatter of keyboards provide a strange sense of comfort amidst the morning's turmoil. You barely settle into your chair, your to-do list unfurling in your mind, when your boss's voice rings out, "We need you in the conference room for an urgent meeting."

You grab your coffee mug, now filled with the hastily brewed beverage, and head to the meeting. "So much for a moment to relax," you think, your shoulders tensing with the anticipation of another demanding day. As your colleagues file into the room, you steel yourself for the challenges ahead. Despite the morning's chaos, you know you have to keep pushing forward.

When you enter the room, you notice a familiar figure standing by the window, reviewing a stack of documents. A tall, handsome man with a dark navy suit and his hair swept back in a haphazard way – the kind of hairstyle that looks effortless, but everyone secretly knows is high maintenance. Your heart skips a beat as you recognize him— Joshua Hong, from law school. The years have been kind to him; he still has the same confident stance and sharp eyes.

You sit down in your usual seat, praying that your old-school rival doesn’t recognize you. Today out of all days – when you look disheveled and tired as all hell – he just had to appear. If you remember correctly, he works for a rival company and you spend several minutes wracking your brain for an answer as to why he is there. Your boss begins discussing the new, urgent case you are assigned to, but your attention is divided between the details of the case and the presence of Joshua. You feel a mix of surprise and irritation at seeing him again, memories of your intense rivalry flooding back.

Once the meeting ends, you’re hurriedly packing your things together to avoid Joshua – you know you wouldn’t be able to avoid him completely, but maybe you could buy yourself enough time to go to the bathroom and put yourself together. However, your plans are disrupted by your supervisor who comes walking over to you.

“Y/L/N, you were unusually quiet today,” he says with a furrowed brow. “Is anything the matter?”

Your supervisor is kind, and you feel truly fortunate to have him. However, his timing leaves much to be desired. As he calls your name, you notice Joshua's head snap in your direction, his eyes narrowing with interest. Maybe he had already seen you, but now he seizes the opportunity to approach. His confident stride carries him across the room, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He joins the two of you, thanking your supervisor for a good first meeting before turning his full attention to you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone laced with a hint of amusement, his eyes gleaming. “It’s been a while.”

You force a smile, striving to keep your tone neutral. “Joshua. I didn’t expect to see you here,” you reply, noting how his presence seems to fill the room with an almost overbearing energy.

“I just transferred from my old company,” he replies, his voice carrying a familiar, competitive edge. His gaze locks onto yours, unyielding. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

“Looks like it,” you respond, your heart pounding as you struggle to remain composed. “Welcome to the company, Joshua.” Your words feel stiff, formal, a shield against the flood of emotions his presence invokes.

As you leave the meeting, the cold, distant persona from your university days begins to surface. Memories of who you used to be, shaped by Joshua’s antics, flood back, making you cringe. You recall yourself as the harsh critic, the goody-two-shoes who somehow managed to be a vicious competitor, always driven to outperform everyone else. That fierce competitiveness got you through school, but now, in hindsight, you can’t believe how ruthless you were. The entire situation feels surreal, like a never-ending nightmare.

When you finally reach your office, you glance out the window, only to see Joshua talking to your supervisor again. The sight of him triggers a flood of unwanted memories. He notices you staring and waves playfully, a smug grin on his face. Quickly, you avert your gaze, wishing you could crawl back into bed and escape the reality of work.

The atmosphere in the office feels stifling as you try to focus on your tasks. The bustling environment, usually a source of motivation, now feels oppressive. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare, and the incessant hum of conversations around you becomes a dull roar in your ears. Your mind keeps drifting back to Joshua, and the uneasy feeling in your stomach grows.

As the day drags on, you find it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Every little sound seems amplified—the rustle of papers, the click of keyboards, the distant ring of phones. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, and you can't shake the anxiety gnawing at you. When lunchtime finally arrives, you retreat to a quiet corner of the break room, seeking a moment of solace.

Sitting with your back against the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The familiar scent of coffee and the murmur of your colleagues’ conversations provide a small measure of comfort. You remind yourself that you’ve faced challenges before and emerged stronger. This time will be no different.

When you return to your desk, you catch sight of Joshua once more. He stands at the center of a group of coworkers, his animated gestures and infectious laughter commanding their attention. The sunlight streaming through the office windows catches the gleam of his watch and the crisp lines of his tailored suit, accentuating his charismatic presence. His eyes twinkle with that familiar confidence, and every so often, he glances around the room, as if he owns it.

You take a deep breath, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach. Steeling yourself, you remind yourself that his reappearance will not unsettle you. Squaring your shoulders, you walk with purpose to your desk, the clicking of your heels on the polished floor echoing your determination.

Settling into your chair, you take a moment to ground yourself. The familiar hum of the office envelops you, a steady rhythm that helps you regain your focus. You arrange your papers neatly, your fingers tracing the edges of each document, seeking comfort in the orderliness. The scent of fresh coffee from your mug mingles with the faint aroma of office supplies, creating an oddly soothing atmosphere.

With renewed resolve, you dive into your work, your fingers dancing over the keyboard with practiced efficiency. The tasks before you, once daunting, now seem manageable. You immerse yourself in the flow of productivity, your mind honing in on each detail, each challenge. The turbulent morning fades into the background, replaced by the clarity of purpose.

Just as you settle back into your workflow, you stand to retrieve a document from the printer. As you round the corner, you collide directly with Joshua, who is holding a stack of papers. His documents scatter across the floor, and for a brief moment, you lock eyes.

"Watch where you’re going," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Joshua bends down to gather his papers, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like some things never change," he retorts. "Still as clumsy as ever, I see."

You kneel to help him, your fingers brushing against his as you both reach for the same document. A jolt of annoyance surges through you, mingled with an unwelcome spark of attraction. "And you're still as irritating as ever," you reply, your tone sharp.

He chuckles, the sound low and infuriatingly charming. "It's good to see you haven't lost your edge."

"Good to see you haven't lost your overconfidence," you snap back, handing him the last of his papers. "Just stay out of my way."

"Can't make any promises," he says, his eyes twinkling with that competitive spark. "But I'll try to be more careful around you."

You stand up, brushing off your skirt, and take a step back. Joshua stands up with you, looking at you expectantly. Some of his, otherwise perfectly slicked back, hair had fallen out of place over his forehead. "You do that," you say, turning on your heel and walking away.

The encounter leaves you simmering, but also oddly invigorated. The rivalry that once pushed you to your limits in university now fuels your determination, and the undercurrent of attraction only adds to the tension.

Returning to your desk, you feel a renewed sense of focus. Despite the lingering presence of Joshua in the back of your mind, you remind yourself that you’re capable and resilient. Each completed task, each problem solved, reinforces your confidence. You glance up occasionally, noting the bustle of the office around you, a testament to the day marching on.

Later that evening, you meet up with your friend Nari at your favorite bar. The warm ambiance and the hum of conversations provide a comforting backdrop as you both settle into a booth with your drinks. It’s just what you need after your chaotic day at work, and you let yourself fully relax – something that your friend seems to be unable to do. Nari sips her cocktail and sighs deeply, clearly exasperated.

“Another bad date?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Nari groans. “I don’t know why I even bother with these dating apps anymore. They never seem to work out.”

You nod sympathetically. Nari’s dating woes are a frequent topic of conversation, almost to the point where you have a script of what to say. “Maybe you need to take a break from them.”

“What am I doing wrong, Y/N?” she exclaims with a pout.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” you correct her. “None of these guys you’re seeing can reach up to your standards, that’s all.”

Nari swirls her drink thoughtfully. “I just can’t get that one guy out of my head. Do you remember the one I met at the bar a few years ago? We had this amazing conversation all night, but I never got his number.”

You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. “You're such a romantic, Nari. Holding out hope for some guy you met once.”

“You don’t understand! We talked for hours, at some point I thought I'd never go home– and I was fine with it! I think we talked about Billy Elliot for, like, an hour. We both had been crying through it as kids, apparently,” she explains. “It felt like I had met a soulmate... not just because of that, of course, but we were so alike in everything we talked about! I’ve never met anyone like that.”

“This is why I can’t do what you do,” you say. “I can’t do romance, I’d just end up disappointed.”

Nari laughs and leans in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of romance, what about you and Joshua? Seems like you two have a lot of unresolved tension.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Joshua? No way. He’s just... ugh, he’s always been a pain. And now I’ll have to deal with him again. I thought I was done with him after uni.”

“Uh-huh,” Nari teases, raising an eyebrow. “A handsome, successful pain who you just can’t stop thinking about.”

You shake your head in an attempt to drown out her claims, but you can’t deny that Joshua has been occupying your thoughts since you saw him earlier. Despite feeling annoyed by his presence, you find yourself strangely intrigued by the possibilities. It’s strange how someone you despised could still ignite a sense of motivation within you.

“Do you know why he transferred?” Nari asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not at all,” you admit. “I thought he was pretty much in love with his old company– that’s what it sounded like in school, at least.”

“I have a memory of you complaining about that, yeah.” She nods and sips on her drink before she gets an idea that almost makes her jump out of her seat. “If you’re going to start complaining about Joshua now, I think I’m allowed to talk about my almost-soulmate! We should take turns!”

“Why are you so excited about that?” You laugh at her eccentric behavior.

“Because now I finally have something to hold over your head!” she exclaims and the two of you laugh together.

After finishing your drinks, you and Nari leave the bar, bickering lightheartedly about your love lives before you head your separate ways. Walking home, the cool night air does little to clear your head. Your thoughts drift back to Joshua and the memories of your law school days. You remember the heated debates, the competitive spirit, and most vividly, the times you compared test scores after the particularly grueling exams. Everything you did, in the end, you did to beat Joshua. It’s part of the reason you ended up at the top of your class, you’re sure of it.

As you unlock your door and step into your apartment, your cat greets you with a soft meow. You sigh, kicking off your shoes and recounting the day’s events to your furry friend. “Can you believe it, Tofu? Joshua Hong, of all people.”

Your cat blinks at you, unimpressed by your human drama. Shaking your head, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After feeding Tofu, you walk into your bathroom to do your skincare. As you brush your teeth, you catch your reflection in the mirror, thinking about Joshua’s smirk and the way he still knows how to get under your skin. You shiver at the thought, quickly spitting out the toothpaste in your sink before going into your bedroom.

Finally, you crawl into bed, setting your alarm with extra care this time.

“Not going to be late again,” you mutter to yourself, determined to face whatever challenges tomorrow brings, including Joshua. As you drift off to sleep, your dreams are filled with memories of past rivalries and the confusing mix of emotions that come with seeing Joshua again.

The next day, you walk into the office determined to focus on your work and ignore Joshua. However, that plan quickly falls apart. As soon as you start reviewing the case files, Joshua walks up behind you in the meeting room. He looks over your shoulder, at the notes you have on your computer, and points out a section you had just written.

“Are you sure you want to approach the case like this?” he asks, pointing to your notes. “I think your argument here is a bit weak.”

You glare at him, refusing to back down. “I’m confident in my approach, Joshua. Maybe you should focus on your work instead of nitpicking mine.”

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want you to get left behind.”

From that moment, the rivalry that had simmered since law school reignites with full force. Every interaction becomes a contest of who can outdo the other, with you both constantly trying to prove your superiority. Meetings turn into battlegrounds of sharp words and pointed comments, neither of you willing to concede any ground.

Weeks pass, and your frustration with Joshua grows. You vent to Nari over lunch, recounting the latest clash with your rival.

“He just gets under my skin,” you fume, stabbing at your salad. “He questions everything I do, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Nari listens patiently, a knowing smile on her face. “You know, all this bickering sounds like something else to me.”

You look at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Nari says, leaning in, “as I said before, it sounds like you two have a lot of unresolved tension. To me, all of your stories sound like he’s flirting with you. Maybe you should just ask him out and get it over with.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Ask him out? Joshua? Are you kidding?”

“Think about it,” Nari insists. “You guys are already close, and there’s clearly something there. It might be worth exploring.”

You shake your head, but Nari’s words linger in your mind. The idea seems absurd, yet the more you think about it, the more you wonder if there might be some truth to what she’s saying. It’s not like your love life can get any worse—it’s practically non-existent. Being with someone you know, someone who’s as passionate about work as you are might be a good thing. Maybe there is something beneath all the rivalry and tension that’s worth exploring.

Over the next few days, Nari’s words echo in your mind. The more you think about it, the more you realize there might be some truth to her suggestion. Joshua is good-looking and undeniably talented, and your interactions, while contentious, are always charged with a certain energy. You start to wonder if, beneath all that rivalry, there might be something more. And even if there wasn’t, maybe there could be something – you had been on your own for a while, it was time to find someone.

Finally, you decide to take Nari’s advice. You can’t deny that Joshua has been occupying your thoughts more than usual, and maybe it’s time to confront this situation head-on. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

The case your team has been working on finally comes to a close, and you all decide to celebrate with a night out at a nearby bar. As the drinks flow, your usual restraint begins to wane, and you find yourself getting more and more intoxicated.

Encouraged by the alcohol and a sudden surge of confidence, you decide to go for it. You approach Joshua, your heart pounding in your chest. He’s standing by the wall, watching all of your coworkers play a game of mafia loudly. He managed to lose in the first round, and you followed shortly after—on purpose, to be alone with him.

“Joshua,” you slur slightly, trying to steady yourself. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks at you curiously, tilting his head. “What is it, Y/N?”

Taking a deep breath, you muster all your courage. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think there’s something between us. Do you... want to go out with me?”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Joshua sighs, a look of regret and guilt crossing his face. “Y/N, I... I have a girlfriend.”

Your heart sinks, the embarrassment hitting you like a sobering wave. “Oh,” you manage to say, your voice small. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have... I’m just gonna go.”

Even when he’s rejecting you, he’s perfect. Without waiting for a response, you turn and make your way outside, your vision blurring with unshed tears.

You find yourself sitting on the curb, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Through blurred vision, you order a cab on your phone. As you wait for your cab, your phone rings. It’s Nari.

“Hey, guess what!” she exclaims, her excitement palpable even through the phone, and she doesn’t even give you time to answer before she continues, “I found him! The guy from the bar all that time ago. We’re going out for fast food right now! His name is Vernon– can you believe how sweet that is?”

You force yourself to sound happy for her, even though your heart feels like it’s breaking. “That’s amazing, Nari. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I gotta go, but we’ll talk soon, okay? I’ll give you all the details later,” she whispers out the last part as if she’s scared to get caught.

“Sure,” you say, barely managing to keep your voice steady. “Have fun.”

As the call ends, you finally allow the tears to fall. The cab arrives, and you climb in, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape. The driver doesn’t say anything as you give your address, and you spend the ride home in silence, the events of the night playing over and over in your mind.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed, the weight of your unrequited feelings pressing down on you. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the tears that come, and you cry yourself to sleep, the heartbreak feeling all too real.

The next morning, you drag yourself to work, the events of the previous night still weighing heavily on your mind. The thought of facing Joshua again is too much to bear, so you decide to take action. After some deliberation, you gather your courage and head to your boss’s office.

“Come in,” your boss says as you knock on the door. You step inside, closing the door behind you.

“Good morning,” you greet, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wanted to discuss something important.”

Your boss looks up from his paperwork, giving you his full attention. “Of course, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

Taking a deep breath, you say, “I’d like to request a transfer to a different department.”

Your boss raises an eyebrow. “A transfer? This is sudden. Is everything alright?”

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “I just think a change of scenery would be beneficial for me right now. Personal reasons, mostly.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding. “Well, it’s interesting you bring this up. You were due for a promotion. I was planning to discuss it with you later this week. If you’re looking for a change, we can consider promoting you to a different department.”

Surprise and relief wash over you. “Really? That would be... perfect.”

“Great. Let me work out the details, and I’ll get back to you by the end of the week,” he says, offering a reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” you reply, genuinely grateful.

For the rest of the week, you make a conscious effort to avoid Joshua. You adjust your schedule to minimize any potential interactions, keeping your head down and focusing on your work. Whenever you catch a glimpse of him in the hallway or the break room, you quickly divert your path, hoping to remain unnoticed.

The days crawl by, but finally, your boss calls you into his office again. “Y/L/N, I have some good news. We’ve finalized your promotion. Starting next week, you’ll be moving to the Corporate Law Department as a Senior Associate.”

A wave of relief floods over you. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Congratulations, Y/N. I have no doubt you’ll excel in your new role.”

As you leave his office, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Relief at the promotion and the prospect of a fresh start, but also a lingering sadness at how things turned out with Joshua. You throw yourself into your new role, working hard to establish yourself and make the most of the opportunity.

Months go by, and you successfully manage to avoid Joshua. Your new position keeps you busy, and the physical distance between departments helps. Slowly, you begin to find your footing again, the sting of rejection fading with time.

While the rivalry with Joshua may be behind you, the memory of it lingers, a reminder of the complicated dynamics that can exist between two people. But for now, you focus on moving forward, determined to make the most of your career and whatever comes next.

It’s late spring, and Nari is practically glowing with happiness. She and her new boyfriend, Vernon, have been dating for a few months now, and they’ve just decided to take their first trip together. Over one of your weekly lunches, Nari excitedly tells you about the trip.

“Guess what?” Nari exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What’s up?” you ask, smiling at her enthusiasm – it was always nice to see her being so positive, something that’s happened more and more recently.

“Vernon’s friend invited us to stay at his summer house for a few days! It’s going to be amazing – a beautiful lake, lots of relaxation, and just what we need,” she gushes.

“That sounds fantastic,” you reply, genuinely happy for her.

Nari leans in a bit closer. “There’s more. Vernon’s friend said I could invite someone, and I want you to come with us.”

You’re taken aback. “Me? Are you sure? It’s your first vacation together, Nari. I don’t want to intrude.”

Nari shakes her head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll be honest, I need you there. This is a big step for me and Vernon, and having you there would be a huge support. Plus, Vernon’s friend is single, and you never know…”

You laugh and shake your head. “I’m not going for a romantic setup, Nari. But if you need me there, I’ll come.”

Nari beams at you, relief evident on her face. “Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot to me.”

A week later, you find yourself nestled comfortably in the backseat of Vernon’s car. The gentle hum of the engine and the rhythmic swaying of the vehicle create a soothing backdrop as Nari and Vernon engage in lively conversation up front. The bustling cityscape slowly fades away, giving way to a more serene and picturesque countryside. Verdant fields extend endlessly on either side of the road, their lush green expanse interspersed with vibrant wildflowers that flutter playfully in the breeze. As the car's tires glide smoothly over the pavement, you watch the world outside morph into a stunning pastoral scene, the tranquil rhythm of the journey calming your senses.

When Vernon’s car finally rolls to a stop in front of the lake house, your breath catches. The estate before you is nothing short of magnificent, standing majestically against the backdrop of the glistening lake. The grand architecture of the lake house blends seamlessly with the surrounding nature, its wide verandas and large, inviting windows exuding an air of comfort and elegance. The entire property seems to beckon you inside, promising a retreat from the outside world.

You take a moment to soak in the breathtaking view, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace. The lake stretches out like a pristine mirror, reflecting the clear blue sky and the lush, green trees that frame its edges. The late afternoon sun casts long, golden shadows across the landscape, imbuing the scene with a warm, inviting glow. It feels like a perfect sanctuary where the demands of daily life simply melt away.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” you breathe out, your eyes wide with admiration as you take in the idyllic surroundings.

Vernon’s face lights up with pride. “Yeah, it’s quite something, isn’t it? My friend’s doing very well for himself.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you turn to Vernon. “What does your friend do for a living?”

Vernon chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the moment. “Josh is a lawyer.”

The name hits you like a sudden jolt, and a sense of dread grips you. “Wait, a lawyer? Josh?”

Before Vernon can respond further, you notice a figure approaching the car. A wave of panic washes over you as you recognize the approaching figure.

Joshua Hong.

Desperation surges through you, and you scramble for an excuse. “Nari, can you drop me off at a bus stop or somewhere nearby? I just remembered I have an urgent appointment back home.”

Vernon, oblivious to your distress, steps out of the car to greet Joshua with a friendly wave. Nari, her concern evident, turns to you with a worried expression. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You manage a strained smile, hoping to alleviate her concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a last-minute thing.”

Nari’s concern deepens as she looks around, considering your request. “I’m sorry, but there aren’t any bus stops around here for a while. Is it really that urgent?”

“It’s about to be…” The urgency in your voice is more than noticeable, but you know you have no choice but to face Joshua. With a heavy heart, you brace yourself and step out of the car, greeting him with a curt nod.

“Joshua,” you say, striving to keep your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling within you.

“Y/N,” he replies, his tone polite but his eyes revealing a hint of surprise at seeing you.

Vernon, sensing the tension, steps in to diffuse the situation. “Joshua, Y/N is Nari's friend I mentioned earlier.”

Joshua nods politely, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. “Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

You muster a tight-lipped smile, doing your best to conceal the inner storm. “Likewise.”

Nari glances between you and Joshua, her curiosity piqued. “You two know each other? From where?”

“From work,” you and Joshua say in unison, the shared response hanging in the air.

Nari’s eyes widen slightly as she processes this. “Oh… it’s that Joshua…” she murmurs under her breath, and you feel a headache beginning to brew by the front of your head.

As you follow Nari and Vernon inside, you can’t shake the feeling that this trip might not be as relaxing as you hoped – especially with Joshua Hong in such close proximity.

The group settles into the lake house, and you’re shown to your rooms by Joshua. Nari and Vernon are assigned the more spacious guest room, leaving you with the smaller one just down the hall from Joshua’s room. It’s a beautiful place, but the proximity to Joshua adds another layer of discomfort. He shows it to you while the other two unpack their bags. When you’ve walked into the room and put your bag down, Joshua leans against the door frame.

“I heard you got a promotion,” he begins, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I did,” you reply tersely, not sure where this conversation is headed.

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice sincere.

“Thanks,” you mutter, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

“Listen, if I had known that it was you, I would’ve asked Nari to invite someone else,” Joshua admits his words causing a pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” you retort.

“That’s not what I—” he starts to explain, but you cut him off.

“I’ll leave as soon as I figure out a way to get home,” you declare, already planning your escape. "They insisted on driving me here, so I don't exactly have a way of escaping."

“Y/N, you should stay,” Joshua insists, his tone softer now. “I’ve never seen you take time off before. You should enjoy yourself.”

You scoff bitterly. “You think I can enjoy myself when you’re around?”

“I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can,” Joshua offers, ignoring your bitterness. “As long as Nari and Vernon haven’t planned group activities.”

You pause, considering his words. The prospect of leaving this beautiful retreat because of Joshua doesn’t sit well with you, but neither does the thought of spending more time in such close quarters with him.

“... fine. Let’s hope they haven’t,” you concede reluctantly, closing the door with a finality that hangs heavily in the air.

As Joshua walks away, you close the door and lean against it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. This vacation suddenly feels more like a test of endurance than a relaxing getaway.

Despite the close quarters of the lake house, you manage to maintain a respectful distance from Joshua. You navigate the space with a careful precision, orchestrating excuses to linger in the background or to partake in activities where he’s less likely to be present. It's a delicate dance of avoidance—sidestepping eye contact and keeping your conversations short and polite whenever your paths intersect.

One afternoon, Nari proposes a boat ride around the lake. You agree reluctantly, hoping the change of scenery will provide a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable tension that lingers between you and Joshua. As you settle into the boat, the engine’s soft rumble vibrates through the seats, and you take a deep breath, attempting to embrace the moment.

Across from you, Vernon occupies his seat with a quiet, unassuming presence. His warm smile and relaxed demeanor are new to you, as you haven’t had much chance to interact with him until now. He seems genuinely at ease, contrasting sharply with the tension you feel.

“I heard about what happened between you two,” Vernon says, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

You glance over at Joshua, who stands by the steering wheel, showing Nari the intricacies of boat operation. Nari, bundled up in one of Vernon’s oversized sweaters, tugs at the sleeves as she watches Joshua’s every move. She studies the way he operates the boat with knitted brows, nodding along to every other word he says.

Joshua, dressed in his annoyingly perfect white t-shirt and black swimming trunks, looks effortlessly handsome, and it stings to see him so relaxed. His hair is messily slicked back, kept in place by the salty water from his swim earlier- which you definitely didn't witness. Some of the water still clings to his slightly sunburnt skin. A pair of sunglasses sit on the tip of his nose, and you can't really see where he's looking but you hope for everyone's sake that he's looking at the water and not you. With him far enough away to allow for candid conversation, you turn back to Vernon with a sigh.

“Did he tell you everything?” you ask, your voice carrying a trace of exasperation.

“Pretty much,” Vernon responds with a thoughtful hum. “Honestly, I’m on your side. He’s a big flirt.”

“You can say that again.” You take a sip of the cocktail Nari had prepared for the group, the fruity flavor providing a momentary distraction. “I think it’s in his nature…”

Vernon chuckles, lifting his own drink to his lips. There’s something surprisingly comforting about his presence, and you begin to feel a sense of camaraderie with him.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for Nari, by the way,” you say, your tone sincere. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.”

Vernon shrugs modestly, but his small, genuine smile betrays his pleasure. “I just like making her happy... Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Go ahead,” you encourage, curiosity piqued.

“I’ve been thinking of asking her to move in with me,” Vernon confesses, his voice laced with both excitement and nervousness. You hum thoughtfully. “Things have been going so well—so I was considering asking her with flowers, lilies.”

“She’ll love that.” You nod approvingly. “She’s quite the romantic—getting her flowers that she's named after will definitely make her swoon.”

You both chuckle at the thought, glancing over at Nari, who waves cheerfully from her spot. The warmth of the moment makes you realize that Vernon’s proposal is heartfelt and genuine. You turn back to him, offering more advice. “Asking her to move in with you is a great idea. I’m sure she’d love it. She’s just a bit shy when it comes to big gestures. It might be better to do it after the trip, when you’re alone. She likes to keep things private.”

“Good to know.” Vernon nods, setting his glass back down with a thoughtful expression.

“I’m not her best friend for nothing,” you say with a hint of pride.

“True,” Vernon agrees with a smile. “... Can I give you some advice too?”

“Shoot,” you reply, looking at him with an intrigued gaze.

“Try again,” he suggests softly, his tone carrying a note of encouragement. “With Joshua, I mean.”

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” you ask, feeling a mix of hope and skepticism.

“Things have changed...” Vernon’s fingers fidget slightly, as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “I won’t speak for him, but just… give it a try.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say with a resigned sigh. “Maybe I will.”

As the boat glides smoothly across the lake’s tranquil waters, the gentle lap of waves against the hull offers a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within you. The serenity of the lake, combined with Vernon’s unexpected support, provides a welcome escape from the lingering tension at the lake house.

As the vacation nears its end, you find yourself alone with Joshua on the porch one evening – Vernon’s words floating freely in your mind. You’re not sure how you ended up sitting with Joshua, but you were tipsy enough not to care. After the drinks before and during dinner, on top of the beer you’re drinking now, your ability to think of the consequences of your actions has flown out the window. So, sitting next to Joshua on the deckchairs is the least of your worries at the moment.

The sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink hues, casting a warm glow over the lake house porch where the two of you sit. There’s tension in the air, a mix of unresolved rivalry and unspoken attraction that has lingered between you for so long.

Joshua breaks the silence, his voice gentle yet filled with determination. “I heard Vernon’s going to ask Nari to move in with him.”

“He is.” You nod. “It’s sweet.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” he questions.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s only been a few months, they barely know each other… I just think it’s better if they wait.” Joshua takes a sip of his beer.

“I think you’re being pessimistic.” You put down your own bottle of beer. “They’re good for each other. Some people can have all the time in the world and still not work out, why shouldn’t they try it out?”

Joshua pauses, looking over at you with a questioning gaze. You watch the gears turning in his head, and he eventually groans when he comes to a realization. “Vernon told you about my break up, didn’t he?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” You sigh. “It’s not like I pried the information out of him, you know?”

“I know, I just… we have a history that makes everything awkward, somehow,” Joshua says. “It just adds to it, I guess– I should’ve told him not to say anything.”

“It’s fine. Why should I care?” You fidget with your nails.

Joshua placed his half-empty bottle of beer down on the wooden table, the condensation leaving a small ring on the surface. As he did so, he shot a quizzical look in your direction, raising one eyebrow in playful curiosity. A rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, but you quickly attributed it to the alcohol. Nevertheless, unable to contain your amusement, a soft giggle escaped your lips as you returned his gaze with a coy grin and raised your eyebrows inquisitively, silently prompting him to explain his unexpected gesture.

“You don’t care?” he asks, “Not at all? Not one bit?”

“Not at all.” You take another sip of your beer. “Not one bit.”

Joshua hums in disapproval, slowly shaking his head – but his smile gave away that he was joking around. The look he gave you, something secret glittering in his eyes, took you back to all those years ago. He looked the same as he did in university. Maybe his smile lines were a bit more pronounced, and maybe you could find gray hairs if you looked closely, but he was pretty much the same. A proper boy next door with an irresistible charm.

“I could’ve sworn that you asked me out a few months ago,” he argued. “To me, that seems like caring– I don’t know about you.”

“Shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes at him and put your beer bottle down next to his. “Let’s forget about it. I should’ve known you weren’t interested, anyway.”

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Joshua confesses. “And who says I’m not interested?”

You cast a furtive glance in Joshua's direction, your eyes widening in surprise, but he responds with a casual shrug. As he sits up, he swings his legs over the deckchair's edge to squarely face you. His tousled hair adds to his disheveled charm, prompting you to sit up a bit and instinctively reach out to straighten it, but you stop yourself just in time. The two of you are seated with your feet pointing toward each other, both of you feeling the weight of anticipation for what might unfold next hanging in the air.

“You’re interested in me?” you ask.

“Why do you think my relationship went to shit?”

You guffaw at his statement as if it was the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard. However, Joshua looks back at you with complete seriousness.

“You’re saying you broke up with your ex because of me?” you say.

“I might as well have,” he confesses. “She said I talked too much about you… even went so far as to encourage me to go after you ‘now that I’m single,’ although I don’t think she was being serious with that one.”

Hearing about Joshua’s failing relationship, because of you no less, satisfies the little monster of envy in your chest. You can’t help but laugh at the situation, though you quickly cover your mouth and apologize.

“No, you’re right.” He picks his beer up again and takes a sip. “It is funny.”

“... you talked about me?” you question, and lean forward as if to encourage him to share his secrets. “What did you say?”

“I’m not sure if I should tell,” he mutters and leans forward as well. “Do you really want to know?”

“Desperately,” you say dramatically, making Joshua laugh.

“Most of the time I complained– but apparently my tangents were too flirtatious in nature.”

“That’s just like you.” You nodded. “You flirt with everyone.”

“Of course, you would think that…” he murmurs and glances down at your lips. “The truth is, Y/N… I only flirt with you.”

“That’s not true! I’ve seen you! You chat up every woman I’ve ever seen you work with– not to mention the way you always try to flatter our superiors.”

“Flattery and flirting are different, sweetheart.” He puts down the bottle again and moves a little closer to you. “I thought you, out of all people, would’ve noticed that by now.”

You can only stare at Joshua, your mind completely blank of any retaliation that you would usually come up with. Not even when Joshua reached over to you, and grabbed your hand; not even when he pulled you up to your feet and guided you over to where he was sitting, could you come up with anything to say.

You only stare as he grabs your beer from your hand and puts it on the table, before making you straddle his lap. Everything in your mind is screaming at you to do something – you’re surprised by how easily you give in to him, but you do nothing to stop it.

“Is this okay?” he asks and you can only nod in response. “Not feeling so chatty anymore?”

Who is this man? You don’t recognize the Joshua in front of you – when did he gain the ability to make you weak in the knees? With a gentle touch, Joshua traces the skin of your arms until he reaches your hands – which he puts on his shoulders. His every move is slow, giving you the opportunity to deny him. You don’t. Joshua lets out a chuckle at your wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Who even are you?” you manage to whisper.

“Tonight? I’m whoever you want me to be.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m sober enough to know what I want,” he argues. “Do you?”

You swallow and glance down at his lips, at the way the tip of his tongue darts out to wet them ever so slightly — has he always had such perfectly kissable lips? When Joshua’s hands play with the hem of your shirt, you’re brought back to your senses. He raises his eyebrows, silently repeating his question.

“Fuck it,” you mutter under your breath. “Take me to your room.”

Nari and Vernon are already asleep at the other end of the house, deciding to take an early night after the drinking and constant sun exposure tired them out, so Joshua carries you through the house without worry. He’s already kissing you by the time he opens the door to his bedroom – the only room you haven’t seen in the house.

His bed is neatly made, everything put into place, although you hardly notice it as Joshua’s keeping you much too busy. He throws you on the bed, before crawling up to you himself. You find yourself pinned under him, as he drinks in the sight of you looking like the perfect prey.

“Will you let me have my way with you without biting back tonight, sweetheart?” he murmurs before pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

“Depends on if you can shut me up or not,” you tease.

“Oh, you’re just begging to be taught a lesson, aren’t you?”

You shut him up with another kiss, and he smiles against your lips. As your hands find their way under his t-shirt, he pulls away for a second to pull it over his head. Your hands reach out to touch him, admire his toned, sunkissed torso—cursing yourself for saying no when the rest of the group went out to swim earlier today. Joshua’s hands are playing with the hem of your shirt now, and you sit up to take it off. One of his hands cups your still-covered breast, while the other gently caresses your waist.

“Beautiful,” he mutters under his breath before bending down to leave marks along your clavicle.

You turn your head to give him more access, a gasp escaping your lips as his teeth graze against your delicate skin. His hands go behind your back, unclipping the clasp of your bra and pulling the straps down your shoulders.

You cup his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly as you study his flushed face. The intensity in his eyes and the warmth of his skin feel almost surreal, as if this moment is one you’ll never experience again. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, the air around you charged with an electric tension that makes it almost impossible to think clearly.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and desire. His breath mingles with yours, each exhale heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Is it me or is it the alcohol?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, each word laden with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze searching for answers that neither of you seem to have.

Before you have a chance to respond, the space between you closes with a sudden intensity. His lips crash against yours, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body. The world narrows to just the sensation of his kiss, every other thought and concern momentarily forgotten. The tension that had been building between you erupts in this singular, explosive moment, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed.

Joshua pushes one of his knees between your legs, and you moan into his mouth at the contact. The sound ignited something within him, and he began kissing down your body. When he reached the top of your jeans, he expertly undid the button and zipper and pulled the pants off your body. A wet stain is visible on your gray panties, and Joshua presses his thumb against it. An urge to close your legs hits you then, but he’s holding them apart—as if he’s protecting his right to see you like this with his life.

Soon enough, he’s ripping your panties off and diving into your pussy. His tongue is messy, toying with your clit before moving down to your hole. Joshua moans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, as he tastes you. His arms wrap tightly around your thighs, holding you in place. Even if you wanted to escape his ministrations, you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” you moan, “Don’t stop!”

You should know better than to command Joshua to do something. As soon as the words leave your lips, his grip releases and he sits up on his knees. Your orgasm is dragged away from you, and you glare up at Joshua. He only grins back like a madman, his lower face covered in your juices.

With a huff, you sit up and go to unbutton his jeans—desperate to have him feel the same withdrawal. He halts your movements by softly placing his hands over yours, gently guiding them to a stop. You look up at him. His eyes are filled with lust as he cups your cheek, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss. You whimper when you taste yourself on him.

“Do you want me?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Please,” you whine.

“Tell me,” he hums. “Tell me that you want me.”

He leans his forehead against yours, staring into your soul. You can’t allow yourself to say it—you can’t give in to him this easily… right? But you do want him, that’s no secret by now. You don’t just want him, you need him.

“I want you, Joshua…”

With an animalistic growl, he pushes his lips against yours again. You help him get his pants off, your teeth clashing against each other as you move. There’s no time to savor feeling him up over his underwear, he just rips them off.

His calloused hands push you back onto the bed before he pushes your thighs apart again. He watches you like a man starved, waiting for any sign that you don’t want to continue. You reach out for him, and once he’s in your embrace you lock your legs around his waist.

“I give in,” you murmur in his ear. “Have your way with me.”

At your compliance, he aligns his cock with your core and pushes inside of you. The two of you groan at the feeling—something that you hadn’t felt in so long, to the point where you had forgotten how much better it felt than playing with your toys. You trail kisses down his jaw, to his throat. Joshua starts moving his hips against yours, and you find yourself in ecstasy.

“You’re unbelievable,” he moans hoarsely.

You smile against the skin of his neck, only humming in approval. His dick was bigger than you could’ve imagined, filling you up to the point where you felt completely full, and when he slams into you like your pussy is the best he’s ever had, you can’t help but nearly scream for him. You can only hope that your friends are sound asleep.

“I should’ve done this sooner.” Joshua pants as he leans his forehead against yours. “You feel so good…”

For a moment, you swear that you heard him whine for you. As his hips stutter, you take the opportunity to maneuver yourself on top of him. Once you’re sitting on him, you grind your hips against his before you start bouncing. Joshua sits up, taking one of your tits in his mouth—his hands traveling from your waist to your upper back to push you further against him.

“Do you want to cum inside me, baby?” you ask.

Joshua peers up at you through his lashes, his eyes hazy with lust. His mouth detaches from your body, and you smile at the sight of his glossy and swollen lips. He nods, laying back down to fuck up into you. Joshua’s hands are back on your hips, keeping you still to let him do all the work.

“Holy fffuck–”

You reach your hand down to rub your clit, and Joshua moans as you clench around him. The two of you are babbling incoherently; begging the other to cum with you, telling each other that you’re so close, and letting out unintelligible moans.

By the time you’re cumming, you’re shaking and your eyes are rolling back into your head. You fall against Joshua as he starts slowing down his thrusts. His arms embrace you again, holding your sweaty body against his chest.

“Are you alright?” he whispers, his voice tender and concerned as it brushes against your ear.

“I’m good,” you slur out, struggling to piece together your fragmented thoughts.

For a brief moment, everything goes dark. When consciousness returns, you find yourself lying beside Joshua. The covers are now draped over both of you, cocooning you in a warm embrace. Joshua’s fingers trace gentle, soothing circles on your skin, his touch both comforting and intimate. As your eyes flutter open, you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of relief and affection, and a soft, reassuring smile spreads across his face.

“Hi,” he says, his voice low and gentle, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

“Hi,” you respond, your voice still shaky. “Was I out?”

“Only for a bit,” he murmurs, his fingers continuing their soothing motion. “I got us cleaned up and into bed. You didn’t miss much.” His tone is calming, filled with a quiet confidence that eases the lingering haze from your mind.

You chuckle, moving to lay closer to his chest. "I'm on birth control, by the way... you don't have to worry about any surprises."

Joshua hums in response. Your legs are already sore, but you find comfort in the slight sting. Joshua’s fingers don’t stop drawing circles and the action, along with the rhythm of his breathing, has you almost falling back asleep.

“I missed you after graduation,” he admits with a mutter. “I thought I’d find it peaceful, but I didn’t… I did everything to hide it, but maybe switching companies gave it away.”

“You switched companies for me?” You move to get a better look at him.

“Would it be embarrassing if I said yes?”

“Absolutely.” You grin, and he replies with a smile.

You stifle a yawn, and Joshua coos at you in a way that you would’ve found annoying—but now, your heart swells a little in your chest. He brushes away a few stray hairs from your face.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Goodnight.” You nuzzle your face back into his chest.

“Goodnight.

Morning brings a bittersweet awakening. Despite Joshua’s confession, despite the night you shared together, you can’t bring yourself to stay with him. You know that it would only end with broken hearts and an even more awkward atmosphere at work. No, you can’t stay like this — Joshua’s arms around you, his soft snores, and his calm heartbeat, all make it too real.

You feel the weight of last night’s decisions as you quietly slip out of his embrace. He doesn’t wake up, he merely scrunches his nose and lazily pats the space on the bed to find you. When he doesn’t, he settles for a pillow that he embraces just as he had embraced you prior. Tears begin to sting your eyes, you can’t watch this any longer, and you leave without hesitation.

After changing and grabbing your purse from your room, you find Nari sitting in the kitchen on one of the barstools. She’s snickering to herself while she’s watching Vernon make breakfast– you’d never seen her let go of control in the kitchen before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Joshua could wake up any moment you would’ve stayed and watched. She turns to you with a bright smile once you make yourself known by clearing your throat.

“Good morning!” she chirps, but her smile falters when she sees your wrecked expression. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“I… I need you to drive me to the bus station.” You didn’t mean for your voice to become so shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

“Did something happen?” Vernon asks, but you can’t look at him.

“I just need to go home– I think I’m getting sick,” you lie.

“Oh, well if you just wait a minute, we can pack up and leave all together. I don’t mind leaving early if you’re feeling sick,” Nari says, compassionate as ever.

“No.” You look up at her, trying to silently communicate something with your eyes — what, you’re not really sure. “I need to leave now.”

Nari pauses, thinking it over before eventually nodding. Every second that passes feels like an hour to you, and your friend seems to be able to notice it. She says goodbye to Vernon, telling him to not burn the house down as she plants a kiss on his cheek. You want to throw up.

“I’ll get my jacket.” She grabs the car keys and walks out of the kitchen ahead of you. “Let’s go.”

The drive is silent, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of emotions left unsaid. Nari understands your need for solitude, respecting your fragile state. The journey feels longer than it should, each passing mile echoing the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

At last, you arrive at the bus stop. She tells you that she’ll bring your bags for you when she and Vernon get back to the city. Before you can step out of the car, she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s Joshua, isn’t it?” she asks and you nod. “Alright. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it… but know that I’ll back you up no matter what.”

With a soft murmur of thanks, you bid Nari farewell, watching her drive away into the distance. Alone at the bus stop, you wait for the bus that will take you back to the familiar confines of your life.

The sun rises higher in the sky, casting a warm glow that hints at new beginnings. As you board the bus, you carry with you the echoes of a night spent in each other’s arms. You sit down in one of the many empty seats, looking out the window to watch the trees fly by and the lake in the distance grow smaller and smaller.

Back at work, you find yourself actively avoiding Joshua, more so than before. Every morning, you arrive early at your desk, burying yourself in tasks and emails, hoping to avoid any unnecessary encounters that might stir up the unresolved emotions from your time at the lake house.

The tension between you and Joshua doesn't go unnoticed by your colleagues. They whisper about the shift in dynamics, speculating on the nature of your interactions and the underlying reasons for your distance. Despite their curiosity, no one dares to address the elephant in the room, leaving the unspoken tension to hang heavy in the air.

For you, avoidance isn't just about uncertainty in your feelings for Joshua; it's also about safeguarding your professional reputation and maintaining a sense of control over your emotions. Sleeping around with someone at the office – let alone, someone who’s under you in rank – is enough to stir up headache-inducing drama.

As the weeks pass, you remain resolute in your avoidance, navigating the delicate balance between personal desires and professional boundaries. The workplace becomes a battleground of unspoken words and missed opportunities, with both you and Joshua wondering if there's a way to reconcile the growing attraction with the realities of your professional lives.

Amidst the uncertainty, you and Joshua find yourselves at a crossroads, unsure of whether to pursue what could be or maintain the status quo. The aftermath of your intimate encounter at the lake house lingers.

When you hear the news of Nari moving in with Vernon, you’re ecstatic – and when you see his apartment, you’re in awe. The luxurious condo has two stories and although the loft area is smaller, it’s still impressive. You hadn’t ever thought to ask Vernon what he does for a living, but clearly, it pays well.

As Nari excitedly shows you around the apartment, your heart swells for her. This is all that she had wanted; she had a stable job and a stable relationship, and now one of the most impressive apartments you had ever seen. Once you have seen every crevice of the home, she invites you to a housewarming party that she’s hosting later tonight.

“Isn’t a housewarming party for people who move into a new place?” you ask with a smile.

“Well, yeah– but I’m moving into a new place, so it still counts!”

You laugh with her, congratulating her once again on her new place and promising her that you’ll definitely be there tonight. As you leave through the dining room, you spot a bouquet of lilies sitting pretty in a vase. The memories of yours and Vernon’s conversation bring back memories of the lake house; memories of Joshua. You paint on a smile as you say goodbye, promising to swing by later to help with preparations.

Nari’s excitement is contagious as she organizes a lively housewarming party. The space is adorned with cheerful decorations: vibrant streamers hanging from the ceiling, colorful balloons clustered in the corners, and a beautifully set table brimming with snacks and drinks. Friends gather, their chatter and laughter filling the room, ready to toast to the new chapter in Nari's life.

You arrive, trying to mask the unease lingering beneath the surface. You know that Joshua might be here – or might stop by for a moment, but that’s enough for you to go into full-on fight or flight mode. As you walk in, Nari greets you with a warm hug.

“I'm so glad you could make it!” Nari beams, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, forcing a smile. Inside, though, your heart feels heavy.

As the party progresses, the merriment around you contrasts sharply with the turmoil within. You watch Nari and Vernon laughing together, their connection undeniable. Every affectionate glance they share feels like a knife twisting in your chest. Are you really about to lose your best friend to a friend of Joshua’s? Does he have to take everything from you? The unresolved tension with Joshua weighs heavily on your mind, clouding your judgment along with the many drinks you sneak from the kitchen.

You hate yourself for feeling this way, opting to stay in a corner of the living room to take a moment to breathe. However, the good friend that she is, Nari comes to check up on you.

“Are you alright? You’re not bored, right?” she asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

Your eyes are drawn to a sudden rising volume from the hallway, somebody just arrived. Joshua walks into the living room, still in his suit from work – he had probably been working overtime before he got here. He’s lively chatting away with Vernon, and you feel a clump building up in your chest. You swallow looking back at Nari, who looks as worried as ever.

“I’m just worried about you,” you admit.

“Worried about me?” She chuckles. “Why?”

“This thing with Vernon just seems to be moving too fast. Maybe you shouldn’t.” Your words are sharp as knives, and you can see how they cut through Nari’s bubbly personality.

“What are you talking about?” Nari furrows her eyebrows, her lips forming into a small pout as they always did when she was irritated.

“You’ve only known him for a few months–”

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on relationships? Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you’re not thinking straight!”

In a moment of emotional vulnerability, fueled by your own insecurities and the effects of a few too many drinks, you lash out at Nari. The noise of the party seems to fade as you focus on her, your voice rising.

“Be honest. Do you really think this is a good idea, Nari?” you blurt out, your words slurring slightly. “Moving in with Vernon so soon? You’re rushing into this without thinking!”

“Vernon and I are happy. This is what I want.”

“It’s not about what you want, it’s about what’s smart!” you snap, projecting your frustrations about your non-existent relationship with Joshua onto her newfound happiness. “You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.”

The room falls silent, the party atmosphere dims as tension fills the space. Nari’s eyes well up with tears.

“I thought you were happy for me,” she says, her voice trembling. “Why are you being like this?”

Unable to contain your emotions, you storm out of the party, leaving behind a bewildered Nari and a gathering of uncomfortable guests. The weight of your actions settles heavily on your shoulders as you retreat into the night, grappling with regret and remorse for hurting your friend.

Alone in the quiet of the night, you reflect on the events that transpired. You realize that your anger towards Nari was misplaced, a manifestation of your own internal struggles rather than a reflection of her actions.

The guilt gnaws at you, urging you to confront the root of your insecurities and face the truths you've been avoiding. You walk as far as you can, which is just a block away before your feet start hurting from your heels. You huff over your uncomfortable shoes as you lean against a pole to try to take them off.

Concern etched on his face, Joshua steps out into the cool night air, searching for you. The city streets are bustling, but he spots you, slightly disoriented and clearly in need of assistance. Without hesitation, he approaches, gently guiding you with a steady hand. He makes you put your foot back down on the ground and bends down to fix the strap you had managed to loosen before he stands back up

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?” Joshua asks, his voice is soft and concerned.

You’re surprised to see Joshua, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over you as he helps steady your steps. Your mind races, trying to recall your address, but the fog of alcohol clouds your thoughts.

“I... I don’t know,” you mumble, your voice shaky. “I just yelled at my best friend about her perfect relationship, embarrassed myself in front of all of our friends, I’m cold and- and my fucking feet hurt!”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and Joshua reacts quickly by gently slipping off his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders, providing warmth and comfort. Realizing the urgency of the moment, Joshua signals for a passing taxi and assists you as you climb into the back seat.

“What’s your address?” he asks.

However, over the drunken rambles and ugly sobs, he can’t hear a word that you’re saying. You wrap your arms around his bicep, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You mumble something about just wanting to sleep. With a sigh, Joshua tells the driver his address and asks him to drive carefully.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to arrive at his condo, as it was only a few blocks away. The warmth and familiarity offer a stark contrast to the chaotic night outside. He ensures you’re settled comfortably on the couch as he helps you off with your shoes. Joshua mutters something about getting you a glass of water, and you hum in response. A few seconds later, he’s back with a tall glass of water which he makes you drink in its entirety.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Okay, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

Joshua gently guides you deeper into his apartment, his hand steady and reassuring on your back. You stumble slightly, the room spinning around you as you struggle to stay upright. When you reach the bathroom, he helps you sit down on the toilet seat, his touch careful and considerate. The cool porcelain feels surprisingly comforting against your flushed skin, and you lean back, feeling a wave of relief as the spinning sensation subsides a little.

After a minute, Joshua returns, his presence a welcome anchor in the disorienting haze. He places a pile of clothes neatly by the sink, their crisp, clean fabric a stark contrast to the disarray you feel inside. Alongside them, he sets down a box of makeup wipes, their crisp packaging promising a small, fresh start. Without a word, he leaves you alone, allowing you the space to collect yourself.

Once you’re dressed and feeling a bit steadier, you step out of the bathroom. The sight of Joshua waiting for you, his expression a mix of concern and care, brings a pang of guilt. His eyes soften as he takes in your appearance, and he offers a supportive smile as he helps guide you to the bedroom.

The journey to his bed is slow and steady, his hand a constant, reassuring presence on your arm. As you settle into the softness of the bed, the comfort of the sheets and the warmth of the room contrast sharply with the turmoil still churning inside you.

“I’m sorry–” you start, but Joshua quickly hushes you.

“Just rest,” Joshua says gently. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod, grateful for his kindness as you close your eyes, the events of the night replaying in your mind. The weight of your actions and the need to address your inner turmoil hang heavily, but for now, you allow yourself to be enveloped by the warmth and safety of Joshua’s care.

As morning light filters through unfamiliar surroundings, you stir awake, feeling disoriented and unsure of where you are. Panic momentarily sets in as you try to piece together the events of the previous night. Your mind races with fragmented memories, leaving you uncertain about who you spent the night with.

Just then, the door opens quietly, and Joshua steps into the room with a gentle smile. Your heart skips a beat as you see him, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Did you seriously sleep with Joshua for a second time in your drunken state? What did your drunk self have against your sanity?

“Morning,” Joshua says softly, his smile is warm but his eyes are filled with concern.

You sit up quickly, clutching the blanket to your chest. “Joshua, did we...?” you start, your voice trailing off in embarrassment.

He shakes his head, sensing your unease. “No, you slept in here,” he explains calmly, gesturing to the bed. “I took the couch to make sure you were comfortable.”

Relief floods you as you realize your assumption was wrong. “Oh, thank you,” you reply, nodding awkwardly, trying to collect yourself amidst the morning haze.

Joshua gives you a reassuring smile. “I made some breakfast. Why don't you join me in the kitchen?”

You follow Joshua with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment, the weight of the previous night still heavy on your shoulders. As you enter his elegantly furnished kitchen, you’re struck by the refined simplicity of the space. The morning light filters softly through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished countertops and tasteful décor.

You sit across from Joshua at a beautifully set breakfast table. The gentle clinking of cutlery and the soft hum of the coffee maker are the only sounds that break the stillness of the calm morning.

As you begin to nibble on your food, your movements are tentative and slow, each bite a small effort to ground yourself. The flavors are comforting, but your mind is still tangled in the events of the night before. The tranquility of the kitchen contrasts sharply with the turmoil you feel inside, and you find yourself grappling with the lingering embarrassment while trying to process the events that led you here.

“How are you feeling?” Joshua asks, his voice gentle.

You sigh, looking down at your plate. “Honestly, a mess… I was so awful to Nari last night. I don’t know what came over me.”

Joshua leans forward, his expression attentive. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Although the situation was strange, you feel yourself fully able to talk to Joshua like this. The vulnerability in your voice is obvious as you begin to share your inner turmoil. “Seeing Nari so happy with Vernon just... it brought out all my insecurities. God– I hate myself for what I said to her.”

Joshua listens attentively, his presence a surprising comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions. “We all have moments we're not proud of,” he says softly. “But recognizing them is the first step to making things right.”

You glance up, meeting his eyes. “I don't know how to fix this. I’ve hurt her, and I don't know if she’ll forgive me.”

“Give her some time,” Joshua advises. “And when you're ready, talk to her. Be honest about what you're going through. She'll understand.”

In the course of the conversation, there is a sense of relief and lightness as Joshua's empathetic and genuinely concerned responses provide reassurance. Yet, the enduring pain remains. The guilt for the actions towards Nari is now overshadowed by the guilt for the actions directed at Joshua.

“I’m sorry, Joshua,” you say. “I shouldn’t just have left.”

“You had your reasons.” Joshua lifts his coffee cup to his lips. “And I can’t say that I blame you– it was a little too much too fast. I told Vernon after you had left… you should’ve seen his face.”

The two of you break out into soft laughter, the tension between you slowly dissipating. The picture of Vernon’s shocked face is just too clear in your mind, and you end up letting out a snorting laugh. You both pause as you’re struck with embarrassment. When you look up at Joshua, you see a flash of opportunity glimmer in his eyes.

“Don’t,” you warn, but it’s too late.

Joshua struggled to stifle his laughter, but he couldn't help but emit a few chuckles. Under normal circumstances, you would have felt angry at his reaction. However, in the current situation, his amusement was contagious, and you found yourself unable to contain a smile.

“You know,” you say, “I’m actually glad you’re here. You’ve been more supportive than I could have asked for, and definitely more than I deserve.”

Joshua returns the smile, his eyes warm. “I’m just happy I could help.”

As the morning sun filters through the window, you find yourself sitting in the cozy intimacy of Joshua’s kitchen, sharing a heartfelt breakfast and conversation. In that tender moment, you feel a sense of clarity washing over you, marking a pivotal turning point in your relationship.

Realizing the weight of your words and actions from the previous night, you understand the need to mend fences with Nari. With a resolve fueled by introspection, you decide to take the first step toward reconciliation. You leave Joshua’s apartment to go back home, feeding Tofu and freshening up before you sit down on your bed with your phone in your hand.

Gathering your thoughts, you reach out to Nari, your fingers trembling slightly as you type a message on your phone.

Hey Nari, I really want to apologize for last night. Can we meet up? I’ll be at our usual spot at 3.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, a reply comes through. It’s a simple “Sure,” but it’s more than enough for you. You breathe a sigh of relief and quickly agree. The hours until the meeting drags by, your mind racing with thoughts of how to articulate your heartfelt apology.

At the café, you arrive early and sit down by your usual table, nervously fiddling with your cup of coffee. You’re not sure if she’ll even show up, and you wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, but she, nevertheless, walks in through the door. When Nari walks in, you wave her over, standing up to greet her. She offers a tentative smile, but the hurt is still evident in her eyes. The atmosphere between you is thick with tension as she sits down.

“Hi,” you start, your voice trembling slightly. “Thanks for coming.”

Nari nods curtly, her expression guarded. Taking a deep breath, you dive in. “I’m really sorry for what I said last night. I know I hurt you, and that was never my intention. I let my own frustrations and insecurities get the better of me, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair, and I deeply regret it.”

Nari’s eyes remain hard, but she listens quietly. The tension is still there, hanging heavily in the air.

“The… incident with Joshua freaked me out a lot– I hadn’t been able to get it off my mind, and the thought of seeing him at your party only made it worse,” you continue, your voice wavering. “I guess, seeing you so happy with Vernon made me scared. I projected my emotions onto your situation. I know it’s no excuse for what I said...”

Nari’s expression softens slightly, but she remains silent, contemplating your words.

“I really am sorry, Nari. You didn’t deserve any of that,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nari takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a little. “I understand where you’re coming from,” she says finally, her tone gentle. “I should’ve thought about your situation with Joshua... and I appreciate you being honest with me about what you’re going through.”

The tension in the air begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of tentative understanding. “We all have our moments. What matters is that we’re able to talk about it and move forward,” Nari continues, a small smile forming on her lips.

"So, you'll forgive me?"

Nari pretends to think for a moment, before breaking out into a big smile. "I'll forgive you."

A wave of relief washes over you as you hear her words. “Oh, thank you, Nari. I promise I’ll do better.”

Nari reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. “I know you will… also you owe me a coffee.”

You release a hearty laugh, then briskly make your way to the barista to request another cup of coffee. As you return to your seat, you notice Nari gazing at you with a look of worry etched into her gentle smile.

“Did you get home okay last night?” she asks.

“I… didn’t get home,” you admit.

“What? You didn’t sleep outside, did you?” Her eyes widen as she raises her voice ever so slightly.

“Actually…” You lean forward and lower your voice. “I ended up at Joshua’s place.”

“What?”

You quickly shush her, and she repeats her “What?” in a lower volume. You smile at her, and she raises her eyebrows in a silent question. You shake your head.

“He took me home and let me sleep in his bed– he even slept on the couch,” you say. “I think… I’ll try asking him out again.”

“Really?” Nari gasps but quiets down as her coffee arrives.

She thanks the barista and waits for him to be out of earshot before she lets out an excited “Oh my god!” The two of you quickly fall into your usual banter.

It had been a long, arduous day at work, and you were finally ready to head home. The rain pattered against the office windows, creating a soothing yet melancholic backdrop to your thoughts. You hadn’t spoken to Joshua since that morning in his kitchen, and the awkwardness between you lingered like an unspoken shadow.

As you gathered your things and made your way to the exit, you unexpectedly bumped into Joshua. His eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.

“Hey,” he said softly, holding up his umbrella. “Looks like we’re leaving at the same time.”

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Didn’t realize it was raining this hard. I would’ve taken the car this morning if I’d known.”

“Here,” he offered, extending the umbrella. “You can use this. I’ll be fine.”

You hesitate but then nod. “Thanks… How about we share it? We’re both going the same way, right?”

Joshua smiles, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of you walked in silence under the umbrella, the rain a steady rhythm around you. It felt strange yet comforting to be so close to him after everything that had happened. When you reached the bus stop, the awkwardness slowly began to dissipate.

On the bus, Joshua found seats for both of you and as the vehicle jolted into motion, he broke the silence. “So, how’s everything with Nari?”

You smiled, genuinely happy. “We’re good. We talked it out, and we’re fine again.”

Joshua’s face lit up. “I’m glad to hear that. I hope you two don’t have to go through something like that again.”

You chuckled, teasingly. “Well, that depends on whether you're going to keep messing around with me or not.”

He looked at you with a soft smile, a serious look in his eyes. “I don’t want to mess around anymore.”

The bus pulled to a stop near your apartment. As you both got off, the rain still coming down, Joshua turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest.

“Would you go out with me if I asked?” he asked, sincerity in his eyes.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. “Yes.”

“Good...” He smiled, approaching you and taking your hands in his. “Go out with me?”

“You can do better than that,” you tease and he lets out a chuckle.

“Can you give me the pleasure of taking you out this weekend, sweetheart?” he asks again with a playful smile.

“Sure you can.”

It was still raining and there was no sign of stopping. You knew that if you went separate ways now, he’d give you his umbrella. Not wanting to be the cause of his cold, you invited him to your place. “Why don’t you come to my place and dry off? It’s just around the corner.”

The two of you walk under Joshua’s umbrella together, your shoulders brushing against each other. You speak of whatever comes to mind, mostly work and the cases you’re currently busy with – although the subject matter is something you usually keep at work, you don’t mind the banter.

When you arrive at your apartment, you open the door for Joshua as he shakes off the rain from his umbrella. The two of you get into the elevator, a tension building up that is unlike the ones you had felt before. Excitement is the only word you can use to describe it.

The building is tall, and you live far up, so the elevator takes its time to climb up the floors. Joshua stands next to you, his hand brushing against yours for a while. He takes it in his hand once the elevator doors open and lets you lead the way to your front door. His hand is warm in yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

You only let go of his hand once the two of you stand in front of your door. Unable to keep his hands off of you for long, Joshua wraps his arms around your waist while you try to unlock your door. You let out a giggle, so unlike the laughs you have let out before that, you barely recognize it as your own, while your shaky hands struggle with the lock. When you finally open the door, you immediately spot a white, furry ball. Tofu meows at you, clearly annoyed with your late arrival.

“A cat.” Joshua’s voice is laced with surprise as he lets go of you.

You walk further into your apartment to pet Tofu, but he quickly sneaks past you and struts over to Joshua. He closes the door behind him quickly, scared that Tofu might walk out. Tofu has no interest in the outside, instead, he walks between Joshua’s legs and purrs.

“I thought I’d end up single for the rest of my life and decided to start early with the cats,” you quip playfully. “Tofu… really likes you.”

“Is that odd?” Joshua squats down and puts out his hand for Tofu to sniff.

“He doesn’t like strangers…” you say, “Or anyone.”

Joshua grins at you as Tofu practically jumps into his arms. He stands back up with the cat in his embrace before he kicks off his shoes. You glare at your cat for betraying you, but Tofu barely meets your gaze.

“He’s cute,” Joshua says. “... and hairy.”

You look at Joshua’s black suit, completely covered in white fur. Quickly, you apologize and take Tofu from him. The cat lets out an irritated meow but doesn’t fight back. When Tofu has walked away, you take Joshua’s suit jacket and hang it up. You show him around the apartment, sneaking glances at him as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-down and loosens his tie.

Eventually, the two of you found yourselves on the comfortable couch, indulging in a late-night meal created from the delicious remnants of takeout food in your refrigerator. The ambiance was soothing and unhurried, a welcome change from the earlier palpable strain. Tofu was nestled by Joshua’s side, emitting a robust and consistent purr akin to a well-oiled machine working at full capacity.

Joshua looked around your cozy apartment and then back at you. “This isn’t our first date, is it?”

You laughed softly. “It could be.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I want our first date to be special.”

You looked into his eyes, leaning over to put your hand on his knee. “It could be special if you wanted it to be.”

That’s how the two of you end up in your bedroom, with him on top of you. Joshua’s slowly thrusting into you, savoring every second. His forehead leans against yours, your hands traveling across each other’s bodies. Soft moans and gasps echo throughout the room, the noises mixing with the sounds of the bedsheets and the gentle rain against your windows.

“What are you doing to me?” Joshua sighs deeply, closing his eyes as if trying to steady himself.

“Is it really just me?” you ask playfully, although your voice tinged with uncertainty.

“It’s only you,” he reassures, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that cuts through the confusion.

You smile, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. He surrounds you, embraces you, holds you, consumes you… The build-up is undeniable, and it only becomes more intense as Joshua’s hand travels between your bodies to rub lazy circles on your clit. He captures your lips in another kiss, slow and satisfactory. Whines and whimpers emanate from both of you as you near your high.

“I’m still on birth control,” you remind Joshua with a murmur against his lips.

Joshua groans at the silent promise of getting to cum inside you again. Ever since the last time he got a taste of you, he swears that he’s addicted. His hips stutter, and you clench around him to urge him closer to his release.

“Please,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Cum with me, baby,” you murmur.

Joshua releases inside of you with a moan, and your orgasm follows shortly after. A light encompasses you, flooding your veins with a kind of warmth that you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced. He stays inside of you even when his movements stop, his head finding its place in the crook of your neck. You rake your nails up his back until they find their way to the nape of his neck.

You press a kiss to his temple while you play with his hair. Joshua responds by pressing loving kisses to your neck. The two of you fall asleep just as he pulls out of you and lies down beside you under the covers.

As the gentle, golden glow of the morning sun filters through the delicate lace curtains, you slowly stir, feeling the warmth of his body and the reassuring strength of his embrace. In that soft, hushed moment, you find yourself waking up to a sense of peace and contentment that has been absent for what feels like an eternity.

As you try to get up to make breakfast, Joshua tightens his hold on you. “Don’t go,” he murmurs, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You laugh softly, kissing his forehead. “I need to get ready.”

He pouts playfully. “Stay here a little longer.”

You kiss him again, your heart full. “How about I get up if I promise to make you breakfast?”

Joshua pretends to think it over, then grins. “Deal.”

Your laughter fills the air as you rise from the bed, his warm hand gently holding onto yours just a moment longer. The morning was idyllic, brimming with shared laughter, precious moments, and the assurance of many more beautiful experiences together in the future.

As you and Joshua continue to move forward together, your journey unfolds as a delicate dance, intertwining professional ambitions with the deepening of your personal connection. Each day brings its own set of challenges, which you navigate hand-in-hand, discovering and growing through each other’s strengths and vulnerabilities.

You find solace in the way you support one another through the ebb and flow of your careers. Joshua’s unwavering faith in your potential becomes a beacon, encouraging you to reach beyond your comfort zone. In moments of self-doubt, his reassuring words and confident smile serve as a reminder of your capabilities, helping to reignite your determination.

In turn, you offer Joshua a steady anchor during his more tumultuous times. When he faces the pressure of a particularly grueling project or grapples with a professional setback, you’re there to remind him to pause and believe in his own strength. Your quiet support helps him regain his footing, providing him with the confidence to overcome the hurdles in his path.

With each shared success and challenge, your mutual respect grows deeper. Celebrating each other’s victories becomes a treasured ritual, whether it’s the joy of popping a bottle of champagne for a well-earned promotion or finding solace in each other’s company during quiet nights when things don’t go as planned. Every experience strengthens your bond, seamlessly weaving your lives together.

As you reflect on your journey, it becomes clear that embracing vulnerability and letting go of old insecurities has allowed you to discover not only love but also a profound sense of personal fulfillment. Joshua’s presence in your life has illuminated the truth that true growth often emerges from facing fears and embracing new possibilities.

One evening, curled up on the couch with Tofu nestled comfortably by your feet, you admit with a contented sigh, “I never thought I could be this happy.”

Joshua smiles warmly, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. With a playful glint in his eye, he teases, “I know a few things that could make you even happier.”

“Shut up,” you reply, playfully swatting his chest.

Joshua’s laughter fills the room as he pulls you closer, enveloping you in his comforting embrace. You sigh contentedly as his familiar scent surrounds you, finding comfort in the perfect harmony of the moment. Even though you still have your moments of bickering and face the occasional rough patch like any other couple, you realize that this shared experience is as perfect as it gets.

feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303, @lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz, @cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs, @dokyeomkyeom, @kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1

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idyllic-ghost · 8 months ago

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Don't Hate, Litigate! ⚖️ MASTERLIST.

Let's say...you're in a bit of a pinch. Maybe your wife wants to divorce you, or you've (allegedly) been involved in third-degree murder. You are entitled to an attorney - whether or not it's a good attorney is out of our control.

⚖️ Read your court report below! ↳ Off The Record: Some of these court reports contain graphic details of NSFW activities. If you're not comfortable reading these details, please look for the 🚨 to avoid said reports.

⚖️ Don't miss your court date! Sign up for our taglist here! ↳ Off The Record: The posting period for this collaboration is from October 25th, 2024 to January 25th, 2024. Please keep this in mind while you sign up for the taglist!

⚖️ A Note From The Judge: Thank you to all the lovely people invovled in making this happen. I am eternally proud of each and every one of you. This being said, I cannot believe I brewed this in less than 1hr about this because of that "AEGYO IN COURT!" tweet. Special thanks to Cam (highvern) for helping me develop this FOUR MONTHS AGO. Anyway, thank you all for making my first Seventeen collab incredible. I love you!

Don't Hate, Litigate! - Choi Seungcheol. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Altair ( @haologram ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Choi Seungcheol is smart - he is, he's gone through all of life's curveballs with his head held high and his girlfriend by his side. However, when six of the major curveballs just so happen to be the bar exam, he's not sure he can win. ⚖️ Witnesses: Paralegal!Choi Seungcheol x Law Student!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: High School Sweethearts AU, DILF!Cheol. Angst, Fluff, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Family Practice - Yoon Jeonghan. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Cam ( @highvern ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: After separating from your high school sweetheart Jeonghan years ago, you're finally ready to start dating again. But he certainly isn't. ⚖️ Witnesses: Ex-Husband!Divorce Lawyer!Yoon Jeonghan x Ex-Wife!Couples Therapist!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes to Lovers/Second Chance Romance. Smut, Angst, Comedy. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Unveiling Hearts: The Law of Attraction - Joshua Hong. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Bee ( @idyllic-ghost ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Two former law school rivals are forced to confront their past and present when they end up working together at the same firm. As old tensions resurface, their professional and personal lives become entangled, leading to unexpected challenges. Through rivalry and collaboration, they navigate the complexities of their relationship and careers, discovering that some connections are meant to be re-examined. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Joshua Hong x Lawyer!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Rivals to Lovers, Coworkers to Lovers, Lawyer AU. Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

How To Cancel Your Faustian Bargain - Wen Junhui. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Jewel ( @ugh-yoongi ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: As the devil, you’re more than happy to grant favors in exchange for someone’s soul, and you’re known for having the most iron-clad contracts around. Which is why Wen Junhui—the scene’s newest contract attorney hell-bent on returning all those souls you’ve acquired—is really starting to piss you off. ⚖️ Witnesses: Contract Attorney!Wen Junhui x Devil!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Enemies to Lovers, Lawyer AU. Crack, Fluff, Smut, ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Elevatory - Kwon Soonyoung.

⚖️ Court Reporter: Hana ( @wqnwoos ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: You were once in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Kwon Soonyoung x Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes AU, Coworkers AU. Angst, Fluff. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Legalities and Such - Jeon Wonwoo. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Yannie ( @wonuwoe ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Wonwoo deliberately kept his distance from you, his best friend's little sister. Changkyun might be easygoing, but a secret Wonwoo found out during high school was enough for him to ignore your existence throughout university and law school. All that changes when Changkyun enlists his help that forces you both to work together for his sake; where Wonwoo finds himself wondering if he can still find the person he once rejected all those years ago. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Jeon Wonwoo x COO!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Lawyer AU, Brother's Best Friend AU. Drama, Smut, Angst. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Killer Courtship - Lee Jihoon. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Nana ( @bitchlessdino ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: If you were lucky enough in love, you'd end the doomed engagement before it stirs up in inevitable divorce. If you were unlucky, however, you'd end up going to your divorce attorney ex for a different marriage you're trying to get out of. Bonus points if you're a murder suspect. ⚖️ Witnesses: Divorce Lawyer!Lee Jihoon x Ex-Fiancée!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes to Lovers, Second Chance Romance, Murder Mystery AU. Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Recess- Lee Seokmin. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Sky ( @drunk-on-dk ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: The day Seokmin passed the bar exam before you did was the beginning of your revenge story. He was always the less serious one, less studious, and, unfortunately for you, he won’t ever let you live it down. One day, when Seokmin is assigned a complex case, you are chosen as his co-counsel, and you can’t help but feel that tinge of annoyance you felt years ago. ⚖️ Witnesses: Attorney!Lee Seokmin x Attorney!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Lawyer AU, Coworkers to Lovers AU, Opposites Attract. Fluff, Angst, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

The Accidents - Kim Mingyu. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Mitchie ( @seokgyuu ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Mingyu loves being a lawyer. Feels like that job is made for him. At least until you join the company he works at and turn his life upside down by being… extremely clumsy. With every accident happening to you at work, Mingyu is convinced you‘re only on this earth to torment him. It doesn‘t help his case at all that you just so happen to be the cutest thing he‘s ever seen. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Coworkers to Lovers, Romantic Comedy AU. Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

The Devil's Advocate - Xu Minghao. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Altair ( @haologram ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Minghao is never going to be the first to admit he's unhappy in his loveless marriage. He married for convenience, sure, but he still cares about his wife and would never go out of his way to hurt her in any manner. That is, until you've suddenly begun catching his attention. ⚖️ Witnesses: Divorce Lawyer!Xu Minghao x Intern!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Coworkers to Lovers, Loveless Marriage AU. Angst, Romance, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Beyond The Yellow Tape - Boo Seungkwan. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Cam ( @dddino-saur ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: If there is one thing Y/N is good at, it’s unraveling a mystery. When her job as the writer behind an anonymous column for the crime magazine - Beyond The Yellow Tape - leads to her being assigned the coverage of a high profile murder trial, the very trial her best friend and roommate is the acting prosecuting attorney on, her secret becomes harder to keep hidden. Will the truth and things that have gone left unsaid be a line drawn in the sand? ⚖️ Witnesses: Criminal Attorney!Boo Seungkwan x Journalist!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Friends/Roommates to Lovers, Lawyer AU. Angst, Fluff, Suggestive. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Eyes That See The Truth - Hansol Vernon Chwe. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Nabi ( @jenoslutie ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Things are never really easy for you, trials and tribulations may as well be on your resume. When things get too easy and you take 'young, wild and free' a little too far, you're faced with yet another nasty breakup and a custody battle. And to make matters worse? The person who has to fight for you (and strip you of all your money) just so happens to be your ex-boyfriend. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Vernon Chwe x Ex!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes to Lovers AU, Single Parent AU. Angst, Smut, RomCom. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Risk Another Goodbye - Lee Chan. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Jess ( @the-boy-meets-evil ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: You're exactly where you want to be in your career. You're at a firm that feels perfect. Or it was. Enter: Lee Chan. It's been 3 years since you've seen the ex that broke your heart and now he's going to be working alongside you. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Lee Chan x Lawyer!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Lawyer AU, Exes to Rivals/Coworkers to ???. Angst, Fluff, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

HAOLOGRAM © 2024 [AS WELL AS EVERYONE ELSE MENTIONED ABOVE] || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

#dhlcollab #collab #seventeen #loved writing this!!

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idyllic-ghost · 8 months ago

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Title: The Prophet and His Muse Pairing: greek god!woozi x reincarnated lover!fem!reader Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut, romance, fantasy, soulmate au, reincarnation au, deity au Wordcount: 11k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: In a world where ancient myths whisper through the fabric of modern life, a poignant tale of love and redemption unfolds. A god reunited with his eternal love. As this ancient bond stirs to life, he must navigate the delicate interplay between myth and reality—striving to rekindle a romance that defies time and embraces destiny’s call.

Warnings: angst, character death, reincarnation, fluffy smut, slight exhibitionism, reader is afab, mentions of food, mentions of wanting kids

A/N: so happy to finally post this fic for @beomcoups's and @wooahaeproductions' collab - see the Thirteen Gods of Olympus masterlist here!

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

Prologue: Golden Shadows

You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool linens draped around your naked frame, watching as Apollo’s fingers dance delicately over the strings of his golden lyre. The soft, melodic notes fill the room, mingling with the last rays of the setting sun that bathe everything in a warm, golden glow. The heat from the day still clings to the air, wrapping the room in an intimate cocoon.

Rising slowly, you let the linens slide around you like a silken robe as you step toward him. Your voice, barely above a whisper, drifts through the melody. "Won’t you come back to bed?"

Apollo’s eyes meet yours, a tender smile playing on his lips. Some of his golden locks fall over his forehead, and you reach out to brush them back with your fingers. Your hand lingers on his cheek, and Apollo leans into your touch. He sets the lyre aside, the music hanging in the air like a fragrant memory. Rising gracefully, he takes your hand and places it on his bare chest. You let your hand travel up his warm skin before wrapping your arms around his neck. His forehead rests against yours, and he closes his eyes as if to savor the moment.

"Please?" you repeat softly. "I don’t get much time with you."

Without a word, Apollo scoops you into his arms, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. You feel the strength and warmth of his embrace, your heart quickening in response. He carries you to the bed, laying you down with a reverence that speaks of a love transcending time. Apollo settles beside you, easing past the linens covering your figure to press his bare skin against yours.

You move together in perfect harmony, your love a silent conversation. The golden light of the sunset wraps around you, turning your world into a haven of softness and desire. As the sun dips below the horizon, you are lost in each other, your bodies entwined, your souls connecting.

"You're enchanting, my flower," he whispers, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck. "In your presence, the loveliest hymns dance through my mind."

He leans over you, his gaze deep and unwavering as he looks into your eyes. With one hand, he reaches out to touch your cheek, his warm palm caressing your soft skin with a silken touch. "I don’t mean to take my attention off of you."

"I suppose I can allow it," you answer playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. "Only if you promise to stay with me now and until morning."

Instead of answering, he draws closer, his breath mingling with yours. His lips meet yours in a kiss that begins gently, a tender brush that sends shivers down your spine. As the kiss deepens, his other hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. His kiss grows more passionate, his lips moving with a soft urgency, tasting and exploring. Your hearts beat in unison, each throb echoing the intensity of the moment. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a timeless embrace, lost in the rapture of a kiss that promises forever.

"I am consumed by you, my love," he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, trying to catch his breath. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into yours, searching for the same fire he feels burning within himself.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "And I by you," you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion. "Every moment with you feels like a beautiful dream I never want to wake from."

He smiles, a soft, tender smile that makes your heart flutter. "Then let’s never wake," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let’s stay in this dream, where time stands still and nothing else matters but us."

You nod, pulling him closer once more. As your lips meet again, the world outside ceases to exist. The night wraps around you like a velvet cloak, and in that moment, all that matters is the love you share, burning brightly in the dark.

When at last you lie spent, the stars begin to twinkle like diamonds in the velvet night sky. Apollo brushes a tender kiss against your forehead. "I promise to stay with you until morning," he murmurs, his voice a soothing lullaby that melts into the silence of the night.

You nestle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, your heart brimming with contentment and love. His scent envelops you, a blend of earth and spice, grounding you in the moment. The world outside ceases to exist. It is just the two of you, cocooned in a timeless embrace, held together by a love as eternal and unchanging as the stars above.

His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Every touch, every whispered word, binds you closer. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a contrast that heightens your senses, making you acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat.

You look up at him, his eyes reflecting the starlight, filled with a promise that transcends words. He smiles, and it feels like the universe unfolding just for you. The night cradles you both gently, a sanctuary where time stands still, and you drift into dreams knowing you are cherished beyond measure.

Chapter 1: Echoes of a Memory

Jihoon stirs awake, the rain’s steady tap against the windowpane weaves a mournful lullaby. The room, bathed in the somber gray of the overcast morning, is cloaked in a cold, desolate light that seeps through the curtains, transforming every corner into a silent witness to his solitude. The apartment stands bare, a ghostly echo of the warmth and vibrancy that once defined his life.

“Y/N?” he whispers, his voice hoarse with dreams and yearning. The answer is a void, an echo of silence that wraps around him like a shroud. His hand reaches out to the empty space beside him, feeling the familiar sting of her absence.

With a weary sigh, Jihoon pushes himself up and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. As he unlocks it, a new email notification blinks at him, its presence a tiny spark in the dimness. He opens it, his heart pounding in time with the rain’s steady rhythm:

“Dear Mr. Lee,

Thank you for your generous donation. We would be honored to invite you to visit our institute at your earliest convenience. We are eager to discuss future collaborations...”

He doesn't bother to read the rest. A faint smile touches Jihoon’s lips, a fragile glimmer in his otherwise monochrome world. The prospect of seeing Y/N again breathes a tentative hope into his chest, a whisper of joy amidst the pervasive gloom. He can almost hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your presence.

He sets the phone down, the smile lingering like a delicate shadow, and moves toward the window. Pulling the curtains aside, he gazes out at the relentless rain, its steady fall a poignant reminder of the emptiness he endures. Yet now, amidst the gray, there is a flicker of something more—an ember of hope that dares to illuminate the path ahead.

He will visit the music institute. He will see her again. And in that fragile hope, there lies the possibility that she may indeed be you.

Jihoon walks through the entrance of the local university’s music institute, the air buzzing with a mix of creativity and academia. He’s even gone so far as to dress up for the occasion—skipping his usual black ensemble of oversized shirts, shorts, and slippers, for a more sophisticated button-down and trousers. Students hurry past with instruments and sheet music, their conversations a background symphony of youthful energy. Some of them give him a double look, whispering amongst themselves. He can feel their music, rhythmically beating as they go about their day. For a moment, he lets go of the barrier he builds up between himself and others, allowing the melodies of their futures to play through his mind. He’s completely entranced by the feeling that he doesn’t see the person walking towards him. An administrator, a middle-aged woman with an eager smile, greets him warmly.

“Woozi—Mr. Lee, it’s such an honor to have you here,” she says, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “I’ve been a fan of your music for years, we’re so excited to have you. Let me show you around.”

As they walk through the hallways, she points out various rooms—practice spaces, classrooms, and performance halls. Jihoon listens politely, nodding and occasionally asking questions, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He’s eager to see Y/N, the professor he’s heard so much about.

Finally, they reach a spacious room with large windows that let in the afternoon light. Instruments of all kinds line the walls, and students sit in clusters, discussing music theory and composition. Y/N stands by one of the groups, her presence commanding yet kind. The administrator walks over to her, tapping her on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Professor, this is Mr. Lee,” the administrator introduces him with pride.

Y/N turns, and Jihoon feels his breath catch. She looks so just like you—the same grace, the same spark in her eyes. She extends her hand, a warm smile on her lips.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Lee,” she says. “Your support means a lot to us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Jihoon replies, shaking her hand. He can’t help but stare, his mind awash with memories.

The administrator, sensing the moment, excuses herself. “I’ll leave you two to talk. If you need anything, I’ll be just outside.”

As the door closed behind her, Jihoon chuckled, breaking the ice. “I think she was about to ask for an autograph.”

Y/N laughs a melodic sound that sends a jolt of nostalgia through him. “She probably was. You have quite a fan base here.”

Jihoon smiles, feeling a warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. “It’s nice to know my music is appreciated. But enough about me—I want to hear about your work here.”

They talk for a while, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Jihoon finds himself captivated by her passion for teaching and her genuine love for music. As they speak, he feels a connection, a sense of familiarity that goes beyond the present moment.

For the first time in decades, Jihoon feels a spark of hope. Perhaps, he’s actually found you again.

Chapter 2: Symphony of the Sun

The garden basks in the golden glow of a summer afternoon, where sunlight spills like liquid amber through the canopy of a grand orange tree. The air, rich with the heady perfume of blooming flowers and sun-warmed citrus, drapes around you like a fragrant embrace.

You and Apollo lounge beneath the tree’s sprawling boughs, its ancient branches casting a protective, dappled shade. The leaves murmur softly in the breeze, their whispers blending with the distant songs of nature, creating a lullaby of tranquility.

Apollo’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint as he plucks a plump, sun-kissed orange from a low-hanging branch. He cradles it in his hands, studying its ripe, glossy skin with an almost reverent gaze.

A smile curves on your lips as Apollo’s thumb presses into the fruit; the sharp, tangy aroma of citrus bursts forth, mingling with the garden’s sweet floral symphony. With a flick of his wrist, he begins to peel the orange, and in an unexpected burst of citrus, a stream of golden juice arcs through the air, landing with a soft splash upon your cheek.

You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening before laughter spills from your lips, bright and unrestrained. “Look at what you’ve done!” you exclaim, your voice a melody of delight.

Apollo’s grin widens, his laughter melding with yours in a harmonious duet. “Let me help you,” he offers, leaning in with tender intent. His lips graze your cheek, his tongue softly tracing the path of the sweet juice.

Your laughter subsides into a gentle smile, your heart swelling with a profound, loving warmth. “You always know how to make me laugh,” you murmur, your voice a tender whisper that lingers in the golden light.

Apollo’s gaze holds a deep, unwavering tenderness as he pulls back slightly, his fingers still glistening with remnants of orange juice. “And you always know how to make me happy,” he responds, his eyes reflecting a love that seems to glow from within.

As you share the orange, Apollo feeds you each succulent piece with a playful grace, your laughter spilling freely as more juice dribbles down your chins. The simple joy of the moment, wrapped in the warmth of your shared affection, lifts your hearts in a dance of delight.

With the afternoon sun casting intricate patterns of light through the tree’s leaves, you and Apollo savor the serene beauty of the moment. It becomes a cherished fragment of time, a golden memory to treasure long after the orange trees have shed their fruit and summer’s warmth has faded. In the garden’s tranquil embrace, surrounded by nature’s gentle symphony, you are two souls entwined in a love that feels as eternal as the sun-dappled day itself.

The room is cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from Jihoon’s computer screen. Rain patters against the windows, a somber symphony that matches the turmoil in his heart. Will it ever stop raining? Jihoon sits hunched over his desk, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to contain the overwhelming grief.

Memories of his lover’s death flash through his mind—your final moments, the helplessness he felt, the crushing sense of loss that had never truly left him. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears keep coming, blurring his vision and deepening his despair.

His phone buzzes on the desk, breaking through the haze of his sorrow. It’s a message from his manager, yet another demand for new material for his upcoming album. Jihoon stares at the screen, his frustration bubbling up. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and the constant pressure was becoming unbearable.

With a heavy heart, he types a reply, his fingers trembling. “Fine. I’ll start working on it,” he writes, feeling a hollow resignation as he hits send. Agreeing to his manager’s demands feels like a betrayal of his own emotions, but he has no choice.

He looks out over his apartment. The room still feels cold despite the progress he’s made in unpacking. Boxes now lay open, their contents partially arranged around the room, but there’s an air of impatience and frustration hanging over him.

He looks back at his laptop, a video paused on the screen. It was of Y/N, gracefully playing the harp. It’s the video that got him interested in the university he donated to in the first place. He presses play, and the delicate notes fill the room—transporting him back to a time long ago when he had taught you to play the lyre. The memories are vivid; from the way your fingers would fumble at first, to when you finally found your confidence as you mastered each chord.

Sighing, Jihoon runs a hand through his hair. The thought of his manager’s text appears in his mind again. He only has one song left on the album, but every time he sits down to write his mind goes blank. The writer’s block is suffocating, a relentless weight that grows heavier with each passing day.

The video ends and Jihoon presses replay, watching Y/N’s fingers glide over the strings—her expression serene and focused. A pang of longing shot through him. She’s so different, yet so familiar. He needs to see her, to talk to her—about anything that could reignite his creativity.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Jihoon opens his email and begins to type.

“Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation and the inspiration I felt afterward. Your music and your passion have stayed with me.

I’m struggling with my next album and could use your guidance. Would you be available to meet sometime soon? I believe that discussing music with you might help me find my way again.

Looking forward to your response.

Best regards, Lee Jihoon”

He pauses, his fingers hovering over the send button. The room seems to hold it, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. Finally, with a deep sigh, he sends the email, a flicker of hope piercing through the darkness.

Jihoon leans back in his chair, the tears slowly subsiding. He glances around the room, the shadows no longer seeming as oppressive. As the rain continues to fall outside, Jihoon allows himself a moment of quiet reflection. He knows the journey ahead will be difficult, but for the first time in a long while, he feels a glimmer of possibility, a hint of light in the darkness.

The forest surrounding you is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Apollo sits with you on a blanket spread across the grass, the tranquil waters of the lake reflecting the serene beauty of the moment.

Apollo hands you his golden lyre, his fingers brushing against yours as he does so. “Now, remember what I showed you,” he says, his voice soft and encouraging.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tentatively plucking at the strings. A few hesitant notes fill the air, mingling with the encouraging sounds of nature. Apollo watches you intently, his eyes filled with admiration and love

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

With each note, your confidence grew. You glance up at Apollo, a smile tugging at your lips. His praise and gentle guidance make you feel invincible. You begin to play a simple, the notes flowing more smoothly with each attempt.

Apollo leans closer, his arms enveloping you, his presence warm and comforting. “Let’s try something together,” he suggests.

His hands cradle the lyre with yours, its unfamiliar weight making the notes stumble and falter, sparking a cascade of laughter between you. Yet Apollo persists, his fingers weaving a delicate tapestry of sound across the strings. You watch, mesmerized by his effortless grace, his skill transforming each note into a tender caress.

As the music entwines, it swirls around you like a gentle embrace, filling the clearing with a melodious harmony that dances with the rustling leaves and whispering breeze. Apollo leans his chin softly on your shoulder, his presence both grounding and soothing. Your fingers waver, losing their surety beneath the weight of his affection. You surrender to the warmth of his chest, letting the lyre fall to your lap as you lean into him, lost in the serenity of the moment.

Taking over, Apollo plays with a subtle, soulful passion, each note a testament to his mastery. The music flows like liquid gold, filling the space with its beauty. After a while, he returns the lyre to you, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that sends a shiver down your spine.

You finish the final notes, the melody soft and lingering, while Apollo’s lips trail gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. Each kiss is a whisper of affection, a silent promise woven into the tender music of the evening.

As the final notes fade, Apollo smiles at you, his eyes shining with pride. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You blush, your heart swelling with affection. “I had a good teacher,” you reply, your tone flirtatious.

You turn your head to meet his gaze, and Apollo moves with an elegant grace, his forehead resting softly against yours. The world around you seems to still, the air thick with the tender intimacy of the moment. He pulls back just a breath, his touch delicate as he raises one hand to your face, his fingertips brushing your skin with the gentlest of caresses.

With a loving precision, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather, tracing the curve of your cheek. His eyes, deep and expressive, linger on your lips with a tender reverence.

“I could stay here forever with you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, melodious whisper that seems to drift on the evening breeze, carrying with it the promise of eternity.

Before you can respond, a distant voice calls out your name. You sigh, your expression reluctantly turning serious. “I have to go,” you say, getting out of his embrace and standing up before handing the lyre back to your lover.

He takes it, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer. “Will you come back to me soon?” he asks, his voice tinged with longing.

You nod, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I promise,” you whisper.

As you turn to leave, Apollo’s gaze follows you with a mixture of longing and bittersweet affection. His heart, though full of love, aches with an almost palpable desire to draw you nearer, to keep you forever within his reach. He remains rooted in the clearing, a solitary figure bathed in the soft, fading light of dusk. A lovesick smile plays on his lips, his eyes still glowing with the warmth of the moments shared. The echoes of your music and the lingering touch of your hand haunt him like a sweet, entrancing dream, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

The twilight deepens, casting long shadows that mingle with the growing night, while you drift into your dreams, wrapped in the comfort of your shared affection. Unbeknownst to you, as the two of you are enveloped in the sanctuary of your loving reveries, vengeful eyes peer from the darkness, their gaze cold and unyielding. The unseen observer watches with a quiet malice, their presence a dark contrast to the serene bliss you and Apollo cherish.

Chapter 3: Warmth of the Sun

You rouse from an unexpected nap, your senses gradually reconnecting with the ambient sounds of your modest office at the institute. The hum of the air conditioner, the distant murmur of conversation, and the rhythmic clacking of keyboards slowly pull you back to consciousness. Blinking away the remnants of sleep and smoothing your disheveled hair, you instinctively reach for your phone. An email notification from the singer who had recently graced the university’s halls catches your eye.

Curiosity piqued and cheeks tinged with a hint of fluster, you gather your composure and walk over to a colleague’s desk. Amidst the soft glow of computer screens and the rustling of papers, you share the intriguing news of Jihoon’s email. Your voice carries a blend of excitement and uncertainty, betraying the flutter of emotions you feel.

“Lee Jihoon wants to meet and discuss music,” you announce, your words spilling out as you pass your phone to your colleague. The screen displays Jihoon’s message, succinct yet promising.

Your colleague reads through the email with a raised eyebrow, a look of mild surprise crossing their face. They nod slowly, their expression a mix of interest and amusement. “He’s quite the character, isn’t he?” they comment, their tone tinged with playful intrigue.

You nod in agreement, a complex swirl of emotions stirring within you. “Yes, he certainly is…”

“I think you should take him up on his offer,” your colleague suggests, their eyes alight with encouragement. “It’s a unique opportunity, might be a good for networking.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow their words to settle. The sterile office space seems to momentarily dissolve, replaced by fleeting memories of citrus scents and the warmth of a special touch. The thought evokes a gentle sense of nostalgia and anticipation.

“You’re right,” you reply softly, a newfound resolve firming within you.

With that, you return to your desk, the soft, curious energy of the moment lingering in the air. As you compose your response to Jihoon’s email, the anticipation of what lies ahead envelops you, and the office around you seems to hum with a newfound promise.

After noticing the late hour, you gather your things and make your way out of the institute. The city outside is bathed in the soft, golden hues of early evening, the setting sun casting long shadows across the streets. You move through the bustling crowd with a quiet sense of anticipation, your mind still buzzing with the implications of Jihoon’s email.

Arriving home, you slip into the comforting sanctuary of your apartment. The familiar sounds of the city fade into the background, replaced by the serene quiet of your personal space. You let out a sigh of relief, the day’s stress slowly unwinding as you step into your cozy, dimly lit living room.

You prepare for bed after a quick dinner. The rhythmic ritual of winding down feels both calming and reassuring. You brush your teeth and change into comfortable pajamas, the softness of the fabric a soothing contrast to the day's formal attire. The scent of citrus from the diffuser fills the air.

In the solitude of your bedroom, you settle into your bed, the cool sheets embracing you as you pull them up to your chin. Your laptop is set aside on the nightstand, Jihoon’s email now a tangible part of your thoughts. The gentle hum of a distant city sounds outside your window is a comforting backdrop as you lie back and allow your mind to wander.

As you turn off the bedside lamp, the room darkens to a soothing twilight, the soft glow of streetlights casting faint patterns on the walls. You close your eyes, and Jihoon’s message drifts to the forefront of your thoughts. His words replay in your mind, each one imbued with the promise of new possibilities and the allure of an encounter yet to come.

You find yourself imagining the meeting, the possibilities of what might unfold. The prospect of discussing music with him, hearing his thoughts and ideas, fills you with a quiet excitement. The tenderness of his email and the enigmatic charm he exudes blend into a wistful reverie.

As you drift closer to sleep, your thoughts are a tapestry of anticipation and curiosity. Jihoon’s face, his smile, and the gentle tone of his voice become part of your dreams. The promise of a future conversation wraps around you like a soft, comforting blanket, and soon, you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, the echoes of Jihoon’s words weaving through your dreams.

You find yourself in a lavish bedroom adorned with silk drapes and flickering oil lamps. You stand by an open window, the moon casting a silvery glow over the room. As you gaze out, a figure materializes before you: Jihoon?– no, this is someone different… you can feel it. The man stands tall and radiant. You feel a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing with a mixture of awe and desire.

“Apollo,” you whisper instinctively, your voice filled with longing and recognition. The man who looks like Jihoon meets your gaze with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting centuries of longing and a love that transcends time. Slowly, he steps closer, his presence enveloping you in warmth and familiarity. His fingers brush against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you bathed in the moonlight.

As you stand inches apart, the intensity of the moment is palpable. Jihoon’s hand gently caresses your face, and you close your eyes, savoring the touch that feels both new and ancient. The air is thick with unspoken emotions and the promise of something profound.

You awaken suddenly, back in your bedroom. The soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminates the familiar surroundings: a cluttered desk, shelves lined with books, and a faint scent of something ambrosial in the air. Your heart still races from the vivid dream. Had that really been Jihoon? Why were you suddenly dreaming of gods? A mix of confusion and fascination floods your senses. Your cheeks are burning as you realize that you’re going to have to face the man you had such an intimate dream about in just a couple of days.

In the dimly lit ambiance of his studio, Jihoon sits at his desk, the soft glow of his computer screen casting a gentle light on his face. The room is filled with the subtle scent of coffee and the distant hum of city life outside his window. After hours of trying to work, he unlocks his phone to see if he has any messages. His heart skips a beat as he sees Y/N’s email reply, her words filled with warmth and a hint of excitement.

Feeling a surge of hope and renewed affection, Jihoon leans back in his chair, a smile spreading across his features. He reads her message again, savoring each word as if discovering a precious treasure. Her playful tone and genuine interest radiate through the screen, reigniting memories of past conversations and shared moments.

The anticipation of their upcoming meeting fills him with nervous energy. He envisions your face, the sound of your laughter, and the warmth of your presence—even if she’s not you, he lets himself dream.

With a decisive nod, Jihoon sets his plans in motion. His fingers tap eagerly on the keyboard as he arranges the details, asking her to meet him at a café near campus. The late-night hours pass swiftly as he imagines your reunion. Jihoon’s heart is light, filled with hope and a renewed sense of purpose. He glances at the clock, noting the late hour, but sleep is the last thing on his mind. Instead, he finds himself dreaming of you and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.

As the first light of dawn filters through the window, Jihoon leans back once more, satisfied with his preparations. He knows that this meeting could be the start of something beautiful, a new chapter in your shared story. With a final glance at your email, he shuts down his computer, his heart full and ready for what the future holds—as well as nostalgic over your past.

You stand by the edge of the forest that lines your family home, dappled sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting a mystical glow over the tranquil surroundings. Amidst the rustling leaves, you try to have a moment of peace and quiet when, suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows – a man of elegant stature, adorned in a toga of shimmering gold. Your eyes meet, sparks of tension crackling between you.

The beautiful man, undeterred by your irritation, was captivated by your fiery spirit. With a graceful bow and a voice imbued with sincerity, he offered a heartfelt apology. "Forgive my intrusion. I am Apollo, the god of light and music. I was drawn here by your spirit."

“You have no right to intrude,” you snap, though your gaze lingers on his ethereal presence.

Apollo stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “I sensed a soul as spirited as the forest itself, and I couldn't resist meeting its bearer.”

In a display of his divine prowess, Apollo performs a magical trick, a burst of light appearing at the movement of his hands. Your eyes widen, taken aback yet intrigued by his powers. The anger in your heart begins to wane, replaced by a budding fascination. You allow him into your peace and he sits down by your side, entranced by your being.

As you find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of nature, the world around you becomes a canvas of serenity and whispered secrets. The rustling leaves and soft murmur of the brook create a symphony that echoes the gentle pulse of the earth. Here, in this sacred haven, the boundaries between the divine and the mortal blur, and you are granted a glimpse beyond the celestial façade.

In this fleeting interlude of enchantment, you encounter the man behind the god—his essence revealed not through grand titles or divine spectacles, but through the subtle, intimate moments shared amidst the dappled sunlight and shadowy groves. His presence, though touched by the ethereal, is grounded in the warmth of human connection. You see the depth of his humanity, the tenderness of his gaze, and the sincerity of his touch, all wrapped in the natural splendor that surrounds you.

The forest whispers its age-old secrets, and the air hums with the quiet magic of your meeting. Each shared glance and gentle touch weaves a story of intertwined fates, a dance choreographed by the hands of destiny itself. The connection that binds you grows, a delicate thread spun from the loom of the cosmos, shimmering with the hues of eternity and intimacy.

As you move together through this enchanted realm, the dance of myth and reality intertwines with every step. The cosmic rhythm of your bond echoes through the forest, resonating with the ageless harmonies of the universe. In this timeless moment, where myth meets mortal, your destinies converge, forming a union that is as profound as it is ephemeral. The magic of the cosmos swirls around you, a testament to a connection that transcends the ordinary, forged in the crucible of both celestial wonder and human warmth.

“You have stirred something within me,” Apollo confessed, his voice carrying the weight of millennia. “A mortal spirit so fierce and yet so tender.”

Apollo’s presence radiates a soft, celestial glow as he extends his hand toward you, bestowing a healing light that shimmers like liquid moonlight. The warm radiance wraps around you like a tender embrace, a soothing balm for the soul. As the light envelops you, the weight of your burdens begins to dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of tranquility. The aches that have haunted you ebb away, leaving in their place a serene peace that seems to harmonize with the very fabric of your being.

The bond between you feels tangible, a connection woven from threads of fate and the ageless dance of the cosmos. The celestial and the mortal intertwine in a delicate symphony, echoing the timeless rhythms of the universe.

With a soft, grateful smile, you turn to him. “Apollo, would you visit me tonight? I want to see you again.”

Apollo’s eyes sparkle with an ethereal light, his smile warm and reassuring. “I would be delighted,” he replies, his voice like a caress of the evening breeze. “You shall have my promise.”

As night falls and the sky is draped in a velvet cloak of darkness, Apollo keeps his word. The moon casts its silvery glow upon the world, and he climbs with effortless grace, his figure blending seamlessly with the shadows and moonlight. The air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers, a heady perfume that mingles with the gentle rustling of leaves.

You stand on your balcony, where the cool night air wraps around you like a gentle caress, the crispness of the evening a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day. You clutch your thin robe closer, its delicate fabric barely shielding you from the night’s chill. The stillness of the night seems to hold its breath in anticipation, and your heartbeat quickens, a soft flutter of excitement resonating through the serene darkness.

Leaning over the edge, you peer into the velvety abyss below, and your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of Apollo’s face, aglow with an otherworldly radiance. His divine presence bathes him in a soft, silvery light that dances with the shadows, making his features appear both ethereal and incredibly close.

“You came,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of relief and elation, as you extend your hand toward him.

Apollo’s smile is both tender and mischievous as he reaches up to take your hand. “I couldn’t stay away,” he confesses, his voice a melodious murmur that seems to blend seamlessly with the night air.

As he steps onto the balcony and joins you, the world around you transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. You both retreat into the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom, where the soft glow of oil lamps casts a warm, flickering light that dances across the room's serene decor. The gentle illumination bathes everything in a golden hue, creating an atmosphere of both tranquility and expectation.

You and Apollo sit close together, the little space between you filled with anticipation. The air seems charged with an unspoken connection, and every glance, every movement, feels laden with meaning. Apollo’s eyes, reflecting the soft light, hold a gaze of deep, attentive interest as he listens to your heartfelt conversation.

Noticing the slight shiver that has taken hold of you, Apollo shifts a little closer, his warmth a soothing balm against the chill. Sensing his unspoken invitation, you lean into him, resting your head on his chest. The rhythmic, steady beat of his heart beneath your ear brings a comforting sense of closeness, and the world outside fades away, leaving only the intimate cocoon of your shared space and the gentle glow of the oil lamps.

As the night deepens, your connection deepens too, drawing you closer until your breaths mingle in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You look up at him and he holds your face in his hands, carefully looking over each and every one of your features. Apollo leans in, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, a gesture filled with reverence and longing. Your heart races in response, feeling the undeniable pull of your shared destiny.

Yet, sensing your hesitation and the weight of your burgeoning emotions, Apollo pulls back slightly, his touch lingering on your cheek. He gazes into your eyes with a mixture of desire and restraint, wanting to savor this romance and to truly know you before taking things further.

With a soft smile, Apollo rises from where you sit, a promise of return lingering in his parting words. “Until we meet again,” he whispers, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet night. You watch him go, the echo of his presence lingering in the room, leaving your heart and mind swirling with the complexities of newfound love and the mysteries of your intertwined fates.

As you lie back on your bed, the soft rustle of silk drapes and the flickering light of the oil lamps create a cocoon of warmth around you. The memory of Apollo's kiss and the tender look in his eyes replay in your mind, a delicate thread weaving through the tapestry of your thoughts. The night is filled with dreams of what might come, the promise of love and destiny guiding your heart.

Only a few days pass before you find yourself once more in his presence. As the first tender rays of dawn gently infiltrate your bedroom through the ornate windows, the room transforms into a sanctuary bathed in a soft, golden light. The early morning sun, with its delicate hues, filters through the intricately carved glass, casting a warm, ethereal glow that dances across the room.

The air is hushed and serene, carrying with it a faint but enchanting blend of incense and wildflowers. The subtle aroma weaves through the space, infusing the atmosphere with a calming, fragrant embrace that speaks of both tranquility and the natural world’s quiet beauty.

The bed, a luxurious cocoon draped in rich, sumptuous fabrics, stands as a testament to both elegance and comfort. The linens, adorned with intricate patterns and plush textures, create a space of exquisite softness. Here, amidst the opulence of the bedding, you and Apollo lie entwined. Your bodies are wrapped in a tender embrace, the warmth of his presence melding seamlessly with the softness of the fabrics. The gentle interplay of light and shadow enhances the intimate atmosphere, casting a dreamlike glow over the serene tableau of your shared sanctuary.

Apollo, the radiant deity of the sun, and you, a cherished mortal, are entwined in a tender embrace. In this moment of exquisite intimacy, your bodies rest together, warmed by the residual glow of passion's heat. Apollo’s golden hair shimmers like strands of sunlight caught in the dawn’s gentle embrace, its divine brilliance casting a striking contrast against the earthly warmth of your skin.

The room hums softly with an energy that feels almost palpable—a vibrant, living current born of your intertwined love and boundless desire. This love, a bridge between mortal and divine realms, pulses with a timeless rhythm, transcending the limits of both worlds. In the soft morning light, where shadows play and whispers linger, the boundary between the celestial and the earthly fades, leaving only the pure essence of your shared connection.

In this sacred moment, the world outside fades into insignificance. Your surroundings, once grand and imposing, now serve merely as a backdrop to the profound intimacy you share. Apollo’s touch upon your skin is gentle yet electric, sending shivers down your spine as if each caress were a promise written in the language of the gods.

The silence of the morning is punctuated by whispers—whispers of affection, of longing fulfilled, and of promises exchanged between two souls. Your voices, soft and reverent, carry the weight of countless whispered vows made in the stillness of countless dawns before this one.

Apollo gazes upon you with eyes that hold not just admiration, but reverence. In you, Apollo finds a reflection of the mortal world’s beauty and vulnerability—a beauty that enchants even the sun god himself, and vulnerability that draws forth his protective instincts.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, casting a warm glow across the room, your embrace deepens. You explore the depths of your connection with newfound intensity, each movement a testament to the passion and longing that has bound you together since your first meeting under the auspices of fate. He knows that you don’t have long before your servants come to greet you good morning and get you to start your day. However, he can’t bring himself to leave—not when he still hungers for you. Apollo kisses you again, bringing his lips down your jaw, to your neck, and to your bare chest.

“Again?” you ask with a chuckle. “You’ve barely let me recover.”

He gazes up at you with eyes brimming with longing, and a soft, affectionate coo escapes your lips as your fingers glide gently through his hair. In this tender moment, it feels almost impossible to believe that the man before you is a god. He appears so vulnerable, so exquisitely delicate in your embrace.

Apollo’s lips brush against the tender curve of your chest, planting a kiss in the hollow between your breasts with a reverence that speaks of deep adoration. Slowly, he moves over you, his body fluid and graceful, until he has enclosed you within the gentle fortress of his arms. His presence above you, warm and enveloping, creates a cocoon of intimacy where the world outside fades away, leaving only the delicate, shared space of your love.

“I have to go soon,” he says, “but not yet.”

“Do I really entice you this much?” you murmur and study the way his hair shimmers when you pull your fingers through it.

“Very much,” he admits and presses another kiss on your lips. “I want to devote my love to you. Will you grant me that wish?”

You nod, and his lips are immediately back on yours. Your love, ignited by the primal force of desire and nurtured by a deep understanding of each other’s essence, blooms like the lotus flower at the dawn of creation. Each touch is a prayer whispered into the fabric of time, each kiss a vow written in the stars. One of his hands lifts up your thigh, as the other aligns himself with your core. You gasp at the feeling of him entering you again, but his lips drown out the sound.

Your hands find his shoulders, your nails gently clawing at his skin. Apollo’s hands wander over your skin, his fingers leaving a warm and tingling sensation. The bed beneath you seems to dissolve into nothingness, replaced by the ethereal softness of clouds as he thrusts into you. You float in a realm where the ordinary world no longer holds sway, cradled in a dreamlike embrace. Apollo’s lips gently withdraw from yours, leaving a lingering warmth, as his hand rises to cup your cheek with a tenderness that feels both celestial and intimate.

Outside your reverie, a knock echoes softly on the door, accompanied by a distant, unfamiliar voice calling your name. Yet, within this cocoon of otherworldly bliss, Apollo remains unfazed. His movements continue with a fluid grace, undisturbed by the intrusion, as he draws you deeper into a realm where only the two of you exist—a realm woven from the delicate threads of shared desire and boundless affection.

“I just… adore you,” he murmurs, his eyes hazy with lust.

“I’m close,” you whisper.

Apollo’s head falls to the crook of your neck with a groan, and your fingers immediately tangle in his hair. There’s another knock on your door.

“Just a moment!” You stumble over your words, trying to hold back the noises that are pushing themselves up your throat.

Apollo’s hips stutter as you clench around him, the excitement of the moment becoming too much for you. A moan bubbles up your throat. Apollo moves to lean over you again, putting two of his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. With your eyes, you tell him that you’re just about ready to explode. He nods, replacing his fingers with his lips as he cums inside of you. You ride out your own high by grinding against him. For what feels like hours, but probably only lasted seconds, the two of you hold each other as you blissfully glide through paradise. Another knock at the door disrupts your peace.

“Go,” you whisper to him. “I’ll meet you again later.”

Apollo’s lips meet yours once more, the kiss a lingering, tender farewell that seems to stretch time itself. His touch is soft yet electrifying, a final whisper of affection that dances across your senses. As he pulls away, his gaze holds yours with a mixture of warmth and melancholy.

With a final, adoring smile, Apollo turns toward the edge of your balcony. The soft glow of moonlight highlights his divine features, casting a silvery halo around him. He moves with an otherworldly grace, his steps light and fluid as if he’s gliding rather than walking.

In a fleeting moment, he stands at the edge, the morning air swirling around him like a gentle, ethereal embrace. With a final, lingering glance, he leaps effortlessly into the day, his form vanishing into the soft, velvety light from the morning sun. As he disappears from view, the faintest shimmer of his presence lingers in the air, leaving you with the tender echo of his touch and the soft, wistful glow of his departure.

Chapter 4: Desolate Dreams

The café near the bustling campus buzzes with the animated voices of students and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. Jihoon sits tucked away in a cozy corner, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he checks his phone for the umpteenth time, awaiting Y/N’s arrival. Each passing second feels like an eternity, filled with anticipation and the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Finally, she steps through the café door, her smile radiant and infectious. Jihoon’s heart skips a beat as their eyes lock, a wave of relief washing over him. She approaches his table, and the air between them crackles with a mix of nerves and excitement, a dance of emotions that plays out in every glance and smile.

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite Jihoon. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Jihoon manages a shy grin. “No worries. I’ve only just got here myself.”

They exchange pleasantries, the atmosphere around them charged with a subtle flirtatious energy. Jihoon finds himself captivated by her easy charm and the sparkle in her eyes as they banter back and forth. The conversation flows effortlessly, touching on everything from classes to hobbies, but it’s their shared passion for music that truly lights up the space between them.

Her face lights up as she talks about her favorite newest project. Jihoon listens intently, hanging on her every word, feeling a kinship in their mutual love for music. He shares snippets of his own musical aspirations, and Y/N’s genuine interest sparks a newfound confidence within him.

“It’d be amazing to see your studio. I’d even help with that song you’re stuck on if you want me to,” she suggests with a playful glint in her eye.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Jihoon replies, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of sharing his unreleased music with her.

In the warm ambiance of the café, surrounded by the aroma of freshly ground coffee and the soft murmur of other patrons, Jihoon and Y/N begin to forge a connection that transcends the ordinary. She leans in closer, her words becoming more intimate, her laughter ringing out like a shared secret. Everything Y/N does reminds him of you.

As they linger over their drinks, Jihoon feels a sense of exhilaration mingled with contentment. Being with her feels right like he’s stumbled upon something special amidst the chaos of his life. He can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly they seem to fit together, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm.

Jihoon cannot deny the magnetic pull drawing him closer to her. Y/N’s presence is a beacon of light in his life, illuminating his path with hope and love. He feels a desperate need to protect her, to shield her from any harm that might threaten her fragile happiness.

In the intimate embrace of Jihoon’s studio, the soft, golden light filters gently through the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over a space filled with musical instruments and cherished memorabilia. The room breathes with the echoes of countless melodies, yet today, it’s imbued with a unique sense of anticipation.

Y/N had suggested playing a piece for Jihoon, a haunting melody that had lingered in her mind—a melody she had struggled to piece together on her own. Jihoon, after carefully maneuvering the harp into the recording booth through numerous attempts, positions Y/N at the heart of the studio. With a nod of readiness, she signals Jihoon, who presses the record button with a mix of reverence and excitement.

Seated gracefully by the harp, Y/N’s presence seems to embody serenity and poise. Her fingers move with delicate precision, each motion a dance across the strings. As she begins to play, the air fills with a melody that unfurls like a wistful story. The notes flow with a fluid grace, weaving through the space with a familiarity that transcends time—a melody imbued with the echoes of ancient love and longing.

Jihoon listens, his heart stirred by the profound beauty of the music. The melody is more than just notes; it is a haunting, ethereal song that he has known for lifetimes. The strains of the harp bring back a rush of memories, fragments of a distant past that had faded over time but now resurface with crystal clarity. The melody, a link to a bygone era, reverberates through him, stirring emotions he thought were long buried.

Standing in the dimly lit studio, Jihoon is mesmerized, his gaze fixed on Y/N. The tears that sting his eyes are a testament to the overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief that fills his heart. The music is a bridge between past and present, its poignant notes binding him to a time and a person he thought he had lost forever. Each chord and every delicate arpeggio is a whisper from another era, weaving a connection between them that is as timeless as it is profound.

As you finish playing, a gentle silence descends upon the studio, punctuated only by the soft echoes of their shared emotions. Jihoon finds his voice, choked with emotion yet filled with gratitude. “Y/N, that was... breathtaking,” Jihoon manages to say, his voice trembling slightly with emotion.

You smile warmly, your eyes reflecting understanding and a hint of affection. “I’m glad you liked it. You’re more than welcome to use it, I’ve had trouble putting it to use for ages.”

Before you prepare to leave, Jihoon gathers his courage, his heart beating with anticipation as he extends a heartfelt invitation to Y/N. His voice trembles slightly with a mix of nerves and hope as he speaks.

“Y/N, would you... would you join me at the listening party for my album?” Jihoon asks, his eyes searching for yours earnestly. “I would love for you to be there.”

Your expression softens with a smile, her gaze meeting Jihoon’s with warmth and understanding. “I’d be honored to come, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s heart swells at your words. As soon as he’s said goodbye, and you’re out of earshot, he lets out a joyful shout. Immediately, he gets behind his computer to finish the song. In the dimly lit solitude of his studio, Jihoon sits before his piano, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. The air is thick with anticipation and reverence as he gathers his thoughts, his own haunting melody and poignant lyrics echoing in his mind. They stir ancient memories and timeless emotions, weaving themselves into the fabric of Jihoon’s being.

With each note that resonates through the air, Jihoon pours his heart and soul into the composition. He closes his eyes, allowing his lyrics to flow like a river of emotions, carrying with them the echoes of laughter and tears shared with you. The piano becomes an extension of his deepest feelings, each chord and progression a reflection of their shared past and the uncertainty of their present love.

His voice rises in a haunting melody that fills the room. His lyrics imbued with vulnerability and raw honesty—from the depths of longing to the heights of uncertain love. Every word is a testament to the fragile nature of their connection, a reflection of Jihoon’s inner turmoil and his yearning for clarity.

Through the timeless alchemy of music, Jihoon channels the essence of your relationship’s uncertainty. Each lyric becomes a vessel for his doubts and hopes, immortalizing his complex emotions in a symphony of passion and introspection. The song evolves with each heartfelt verse, capturing the bittersweet beauty of their intertwined destinies.

As the final notes of “What Kind of Future” fade into the stillness of the night, Jihoon feels a profound sense of catharsis wash over him. The song stands as a testament to your journey, a poignant reminder of the depth of their connection despite the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is thick with the heady fragrance of pine sap and the earthy richness of the forest floor. Soft murmurs of unseen creatures create a haunting symphony that reverberates through the dense canopy overhead. Moonlight, filtered through the tangled branches, spills in delicate shafts that paint the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Apollo's heart pounds with a frantic rhythm, his golden hair and divine robes catching in the underbrush as he runs. His keen senses are overwhelmed by a sense of impending dread. A dryad, her voice trembling with concern, had led him here with the dire news of your plight—of Ares and the terrible fate that had befallen you.

The serene landscape around him seems almost to hold its breath as Apollo crashes through the forest, his footsteps echoing like thunder through the ancient woods. The moonlight reveals a gruesome contrast to the tranquil beauty: your lifeless body lies crumpled amidst the tangled foliage. The sight is a brutal shock—a vivid splash of crimson staining the otherwise peaceful scene, a jarring testament to the violence that had taken place.

Apollo's breath catches in his throat. The world around him blurs as his gaze locks onto the sight of Ares, who stands grimly beside your corpse. The presence of the god of war is a dark blight on the scene, his fierce eyes meeting Apollo's with a cold, unfeeling gaze.

Time seems to freeze in that moment, a heavy silence descending upon the forest as Apollo's heart clenches with anguish. The serene beauty of the woods is eclipsed by the brutal reality of what he has found. With a final, anguished cry, he rushes to your side, his footsteps pounding through the silence of the ancient woods. Each step feels like an eternity, his divine energy merging with the primal pain of his loss as he reaches out to you, desperate to reclaim the love that has been so cruelly torn away.

“Y/N, no!” Apollo’s voice shatters the quiet, filled with raw anguish. He kneels beside her, hands trembling as he reaches out to gently cradle her still form. His voice breaks with sorrow and rage, a primal scream of anguish tearing through the trees.

Tears stream down his face unchecked, mingling with the blood that stains her pale skin. The vibrant life she once possessed now lies still and cold, a cruel testament to the fragility of mortal existence.

“Y/N, please come back,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Memories surge through his mind like a tempest. He is engulfed by a flood of images—the warmth of the sun on your faces, the way your laughter seemed to dance through the skies, the tender vows exchanged beneath a starlit canopy. These moments, once full of life and hope, now feel achingly ephemeral, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

In the midst of this chaotic despair, Apollo can do nothing but clutch your lifeless body to his chest. His hands, trembling with sorrow, hold you as if by sheer force of will he might bring you back from the brink of oblivion. His heart, once a vessel of divine strength, is now shattered into a myriad of irreparable fragments. Each beat echoes with the agony of loss, a cacophony of pain that reverberates through his very soul. The once bright and eternal light within him dims, consumed by the overwhelming darkness of grief.

The forest bears witness to Apollo’s grief, its ancient trees standing sentinel around them as he mourns the loss of his beloved. His sorrow reverberates through the very fabric of their shared existence, a testament to the devastating impact of Ares’ cruel betrayal. The once-peaceful woods seem to sigh in sympathy, the breeze carrying Apollo’s cries of anguish into the stillness.

Through tear-blurred eyes, he looks up at Ares, standing amidst the trees. His eyes are cold and unrepentant. Apollo’s grief transforms into a surge of anger.

“You!” Apollo’s voice is hoarse with rage as he struggles to rise to his feet. “You did this!”

Ares’ voice is as frigid and unyielding as steel, his expression devoid of warmth or empathy. “Hera’s decree. If she can’t see you dead, she’ll make sure to find another way to make you suffer for daring to be Zeus’ new favorite.”

Fueled by a mix of sorrow and fury, Apollo attempts to lunge at Ares, but his grief-weakened body betrays him. He stumbles, collapsing back to the ground, his strength sapped by the overwhelming despair. His fingers dig into the earth, trying to push himself up again, but it’s no use. The weight of his sorrow is too great.

Ares watches him with a sneer. “Pathetic,” he mutters before turning away and disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Apollo’s vision blurs as fresh tears spill from his eyes. “I’ll make you pay,” he vows, his voice barely a whisper. “One day, I’ll make you pay.”

Determined and desperate, Apollo descends into the Underworld—his body still covered in your blood. The River Styx looms ahead, its dark waters whispering of forgotten souls and eternal rest. The urgency of his mission propels him forward, the weight of his grief a constant companion.

“Charon!” Apollo calls out, his voice echoing across the dark expanse. The ferryman appears, his skeletal form shrouded in shadows, and with a nod, he extends a bony hand. Apollo places a gold coin into the ferryman’s palm, the payment for passage.

As the boat cuts through the inky water, Apollo’s mind races. He must convince Hades to return you from the clutches of death. The mere thought of your lifeless form lying in the forest is unbearable.

Upon reaching the other side, Apollo steps onto the ashen shore and makes his way to the imposing gates of the Underworld. Cerberus, the three-headed guardian, growls low, each head eyeing him warily. With a wave of his hand and a murmur of soothing words, Apollo pacifies the beast and continues forward.

In the throne room, Hades sits in brooding silence, his dark eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression.

“Hades,” Apollo begins, his voice steady but filled with urgency, “I have come to ask for the return of my Y/N. Her death was unjust, a result of Hera’s jealousy and Ares’ brutality. She deserves another chance at life.”

Hades regards Apollo with a mixture of curiosity and pity. “Apollo, god of light, even you must know the rules of my realm. No soul leaves without due reason, and certainly not without its appointed time.”

“But she was taken too soon!” Apollo’s desperation seeps into his words. “She had so much more to live for, so much love left to give.”

Hades leans forward, his gaze intense. “The balance of life and death is not so easily swayed. Every soul has its time, and its place in the grand design. To disrupt that order is to invite chaos.”

Apollo’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “Then let me take her place. I will remain here, in her stead. Just let her return to the living.”

Hades' expression is soft with understanding underneath the cold exterior. “Apollo, your love for her is evident, but such exchanges are not within our power to grant lightly. The threads of fate are woven tightly, and even the gods must respect them.”

“But why?” Apollo’s voice breaks, the raw edge of his grief cutting through the stillness. “Why must she suffer for the whims of others?”

Hades sighs, a rare glimpse of compassion in his eyes. “Because it is not her time to return. Her soul must find its peace here, in its due course. To interfere would be to unravel the very fabric of existence. Wait now, and meet her again in the future when her soul returns to Earth through another body.”

Tears stream down Apollo’s face, his hope crumbling to dust. “Then what am I to do now? How can I go on without her?”

“Grieve, Apollo. Grieve and remember her. Cherish the love you shared, and let it guide you through this darkness. In time, the pain will lessen, and her memory will become a source of strength rather than sorrow.”

Apollo nods, his heart laden with the somber weight of acceptance. He had ventured in search of a miracle, only to discover that even gods are not exempt from the inescapable embrace of death.

With a final, sorrowful glance at Hades, Apollo turns and makes his way back to the living world, the shadows of the Underworld lingering in his heart. The path ahead seems bleak, but he resolves to honor your memory, carrying the light of their love with him as he faces the uncertain days to come.

In the stillness of Jihoon’s bedroom, where moonlight weaves ghostly patterns through the curtains and shadows dance across the walls, a sudden jolt shatters the tranquility. Jihoon bolts awake, his body drenched in sweat and his breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Tears streak his cheeks, remnants of a nightmarish vision that clings to him like a chilling specter. The room’s serene ambiance is obliterated by the sharp sting of his awakening, leaving him trembling and disoriented, as the haunting echoes of his dream continue to reverberate through the silence.

Gasping for air, Jihoon’s heart pounds with sorrow and panic, his mind still ensnared in the vivid echoes of his grief. His hands tremble with residual emotion as he tries to shake off the tendrils of the nightmare that have left him shaken to the core.

As Jihoon reaches for the glass of water on his bedside table, his trembling fingers betray him. The glass slips from his grasp, falling in slow motion as if time itself is taunting him. It crashes to the floor with a sharp, splintering explosion, sending shards of glass skittering across the room. The sound is jarring, a violent punctuation mark to the unsettling silence that followed his abrupt awakening.

Startled and disoriented, Jihoon stares blankly at the scattered fragments, each shard reflecting the fractured state of his mind. The broken glass, glinting ominously in the moonlight, mirrors the chaos roiling within him.

“Get a grip, Jihoon,” he mutters to himself, his voice a strained whisper of reassurance amidst the turmoil. “It’s over. It’s just a nightmare.”

With a weary sigh, Jihoon drags himself from the bed, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him like a leaden shroud. He moves cautiously, his footsteps heavy as he carefully picks up the larger pieces of glass, wincing with each crunch underfoot. The small, jagged shards are painstakingly gathered and swept into a dustpan, his hands moving with mechanical precision.

The act of cleaning up the glass is both a physical and emotional distraction, a way to ground himself in the mundane reality of the present. Each piece he collects feels like a step toward regaining control, a small act of order in the wake of his distress.

When the last of the glass is cleared away, Jihoon returns to his bed with a bone-deep weariness. He sinks into the sheets, burying his face in his hands as if to shield himself from the lingering echoes of his nightmare. The bed, once a refuge, now feels like an oppressive weight as he grapples with the flood of sadness and fear that continues to haunt him. Exhaustion envelops him like a cold, unforgiving tide, pulling him down as he struggles to find solace in the fragile embrace of sleep.

In the stillness of the night, Jihoon wrestles with the aftermath of his tumultuous dream, grappling with the deep-seated emotions that threaten to consume him. His tears fall silently as he seeks solace in the darkness, longing for the fleeting comfort of sleep to bring respite from the relentless ache in his heart.

“Please, just let me sleep,” he pleads, closing his eyes against the tears. “Let me forget, even just for a little while.”

Outside, the world sleeps unaware of Jihoon’s turmoil, but inside his bedroom, shadows dance and moonlight weaves a soft tapestry of light and dark. Jihoon remains caught in the grip of sorrow and exhaustion, waiting for the dawn to bring clarity and a renewed strength to face the day ahead.

“I’ll be okay,” he tells himself, though his voice lacks conviction. “I just need to rest. Tomorrow will be better.”

But as the night stretches on, Jihoon can only hope that the morning light will chase away the shadows of his dreams and bring with it the peace he so desperately seeks.

Chapter 5: Resonance of Forgotten Tides

The album-listening party thrums with vibrant anticipation, its energy a living pulse that vibrates through the room. Conversations mingle with the rich swell of background music, creating a tapestry of sound and chatter. You navigate through the animated crowd, your heart fluttering with a blend of excitement and curiosity.

Across the room, Jihoon’s gaze meets yours. A genuine smile blossoms across his face, his eyes sparkling with warmth. He makes his way through the sea of guests, his presence commanding attention. As he reaches you, he extends a hand with an inviting gesture.

“Glad you could make it,” Jihoon says, his voice a blend of enthusiasm and relief. “Come, let me show you around.”

As Jihoon leads you through the gathering, you’re enveloped in the rich, immersive atmosphere of the party. The room is alive with animated conversation and the tantalizing promise of new music. A subtle, almost imperceptible recognition stirs deep within you—a sensation that you’ve been here before, in a place where music and memories intertwine.

Jihoon guides you to a prime spot at the front of the room, his touch light on your back as he gestures to the small stage. “I’ll be introducing the album in a moment,” he says, his tone imbued with both excitement and a hint of nervousness. “I hope you enjoy it.”

He then steps away, ascending the stage with a confident stride. The room's chatter fades, replaced by a reverent hush as Jihoon takes the microphone. His voice, warm and engaging, begins to speak, but you’re too absorbed in the growing tension to focus on his words.

As the first notes of the album unfurl, they drift through the room with an almost ethereal grace. The sound weaves through the crowd, each note delicate and precise, creating a soft, shimmering veil of music that envelops everyone present. The songs flow seamlessly into one another, each transition smooth and fluid, heightening the anticipation that crackles in the air like static electricity.

But it is the final track that captures your attention with an intensity that feels almost supernatural. As the opening chords of the song emerge, a wave of haunting familiarity crashes over you. The melody wraps itself around your senses, its pull almost magnetic, as if the music itself is reaching out to touch a part of you buried deep within.

Each note, each lyric, resonates with an eerie familiarity, stirring memories that seem to slip just out of reach. The melody is both mesmerizing and unsettling, tugging at your emotions with a power that is both awe-inspiring and bewildering. It feels as though the music is unearthing something buried in the recesses of your mind, a part of you that you had almost forgotten.

A tumultuous mix of awe, confusion, and an inexplicable yearning swirls within you. Your heart races, pounding in sync with the rhythm of the song as it weaves its intricate patterns of beauty and emotional depth. The music resonates with a hauntingly ethereal quality, drawing you to the edge of forgotten memories, leaving you teetering between the echoes of the past and the reality of the present.

As Jihoon’s voice rises to its emotional zenith in the song’s poignant conclusion, a profound shift occurs within you. It feels as though a floodgate has been flung open in your mind, unleashing a torrent of memories from a past life.

You catch fleeting glimpses of an opulent, bygone era, each image shimmering with the golden hues of a sunlit past. The grandeur of a stately manor unfurls before you, its rooms draped in luxurious fabrics and adorned with intricate tapestries that tell stories of ancient splendor. Crystal chandeliers cast their radiant glow, illuminating moments of blissful intimacy that you once shared with Apollo.

You see yourself wandering through verdant gardens, where the air is thick with the intoxicating fragrance of blooming roses and citrus blossoms. Apollo stands beside you, his divine presence a beacon of warmth amidst the lush greenery. His golden hair glows like a halo under the dappled sunlight, and his laughter rings like a celestial melody, mingling with the whispers of the breeze.

You recall tender moments spent beneath sprawling orange trees, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. Apollo’s fingers gently pluck an orange, the tangy scent mingling with the floral aroma of the garden as he leans in to kiss your cheek, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

You find yourselves on a sun-drenched terrace overlooking an azure sea, the water sparkling like sapphires under the afternoon sun. Apollo holds you close, his embrace a sanctuary of warmth and comfort. The two of you dance together, moving in perfect harmony to a melody only you two can hear. His gaze is unwavering, filled with adoration and an eternity of promises.

The images are vivid and overwhelming, crashing against the shores of your consciousness like a torrent of nostalgia. Each memory is a testament to a love that transcended mortal boundaries, a bond forged in the fires of an ancient romance that defied time itself. The overwhelming flood of sensations and emotions sweeps through you, leaving you breathless and awestruck as you stand on the precipice of a past life that now feels as tangible as the present.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as the profound realization dawns upon you. Jihoon’s song is not just a melody—it is a reflection of your shared past, a testament to a love that has spanned across centuries. The realization threads through your mind, weaving together the fragmented pieces of your intertwined destinies into a tapestry of profound clarity.

As the final echoes of the music fade, you turn your gaze toward Jihoon, your heart aching with the weight of newfound understanding. He stands alone in a distant corner of the room, a solitary figure amidst the sea of guests. But Jihoon, consumed by his own emotional storm, does not meet your eyes.

Driven by the urgent pulse of your revelation, you find yourself desperately pushing through the swarming sea of partygoers. The crowd feels almost alive, a living barrier of laughing faces and chattering voices that press in on you from all sides. Each movement you make is slowed by their collective inertia, every step forward a Herculean effort against the relentless tide of bodies.

The cacophony of the party—laughter, clinking glasses, and the echo of the final notes from Jihoon's album—seems to swell around you, amplifying your sense of isolation and anxiety. You catch fleeting glimpses of Jihoon’s retreating figure, his back turned as he navigates the throng of guests, and your heart pounds with a frantic rhythm, each beat driven by the fear of losing him.

Sweat beads on your forehead, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as you struggle to forge a path through the crowd. The warmth of the room, once inviting, now feels stifling, a physical manifestation of the mounting pressure in your chest. Your hands graze the edges of people’s jackets and the fabric of their clothes, their voices a dissonant symphony that heightens your growing sense of panic.

Just as you make a final, desperate push to reach him, you see Jihoon slip through the side door, disappearing into the night beyond the party's glow. The door closes with a muted thud that resonates like a final, crushing blow. Your outstretched hand hangs in mid-air.

You’re left standing amidst the echoes of the party’s final notes and the fading hum of conversation, the realization of your intertwined past hanging heavily in the air around you. The once-celebratory atmosphere now feels hollow and distant, the weight of your unspoken truth settling over you like a shroud.

In Jihoon’s apartment, the air is thick with an unsettling stillness, punctuated only by the distant murmur of city life that drifts through the open window. The urban symphony—a low rumble of traffic, the occasional distant siren—filters into the room, but it feels like a world away from the silence that hangs heavy within the apartment.

Jihoon stands alone amidst this quiet, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a physical burden. His suitcase, meticulously packed, lies on the bed, its presence a stark reminder of his imminent departure. The room, usually vibrant with his personal touches, now seems stark and impersonal, a reflection of his state of mind. Boxes, filled with his life’s possessions, are stacked haphazardly, waiting to be moved, each one a symbol of his reluctance to settle and face the past.

He gazes out of the window at the sprawling city skyline, a mosaic of shimmering lights and shadowy buildings that stretch into the horizon. The sight is both mesmerizing and melancholic, a visual representation of the opportunities slipping through his fingers. The vast expanse of the city, once full of promise, now seems like an endless expanse of regret and missed chances.

As Jihoon wrestles with the tumultuous mix of regret, longing, and bitter heartache, the weight of his unfulfilled love for you bears down heavily on him. The uncertainty of what could have been gnaws at him relentlessly, each thought a jagged edge that tears at his resolve. The decision to leave seems like the only way to escape the emotional turmoil that has become his constant companion.

His phone vibrates with a text from his manager, breaking through the fog of his thoughts: “I’m ready to take you to the airport.” The message is both a call to action and a finality, pushing him closer to the edge of his decision. With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Jihoon realizes there is nothing left to hold him back.

He takes one last look around the apartment, the echo of his footsteps sounding hollow in the empty space. The city outside continues its relentless pace, indifferent to his departure. He grabs his suitcase, the weight of it a tangible reminder of the life he is leaving behind, and steps out of the apartment. The cool night air greets him as he descends the building’s steps, each movement a step away from the life he once knew and the love he is forced to leave behind.

As he heads towards the waiting car, the finality of his choice settles around him like a shroud, the city lights fading into a blur of regret and sorrow.

The airport terminal hums with frenetic energy, a living tapestry of farewells and reunions. The cacophony of rolling suitcases, urgent announcements, and the murmur of conversations creates a backdrop of bustling urgency. Amid this whirlwind of activity, Jihoon stands on the precipice of departure, his thoughts steeped in a brooding contemplation. His eyes are distant, fixated on the distant plane that promises escape.

But just as he readies himself to step onto the jet bridge, the atmosphere around him shifts, charged with an unexpected jolt. Through the dense sea of hurried travelers and flashing departure boards, a figure emerges—it's you. Your presence cuts through the crowd like a beacon, a luminous thread of determination weaving its way through the chaos.

Jihoon's heart leaps as he locks eyes with you, his face a canvas of disbelief and shock. The world narrows to just the space between you, the terminal's clamor fading into a distant hum.

"Jihoon, wait!" your voice pierces through the din, a lifeline in the tempest of the terminal.

You move with urgency, each step resonating like a heartbeat in the cavernous space. Your strides are firm, purposeful, and as you close the distance, the tumult around you seems to pause, holding its breath. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as you reach him, and in an instant, your arms are around him, enveloping him in a desperate, fervent embrace. The warmth of your body presses against his, grounding him with a sensation both calming and electrifying.

"Y/N?" Jihoon's voice trembles, revealing the storm of emotions within him.

Tears pool in Jihoon's eyes as he feels your breath against his ear, your whisper a soft, aching caress that resonates through his very soul. "I remember everything," you murmur, each word imbued with the gravity of eons of shared memories and unspoken yearnings. "I remember everything. Please don’t leave, Jihoon."

A tidal wave of emotion surges through Jihoon, an intoxicating mix of joy, relief, and incredulity at this miraculous convergence of fate. The chaos of the airport fades into obscurity as he clings to you, your embrace a sanctuary amidst the tumult of travelers and terminal announcements. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that rekindles a cascade of memories—each breath a journey back to the shared moments that had once bound them together.

“I can’t believe that it's you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice trembling with emotion. “I thought I lost you forever.”

You tighten your grip around him, your voice filled with conviction. “I couldn't let you go, not again.”

Around them, travelers rush past, oblivious to the profound moment unfolding. For Jihoon and you, time seems to stand still as you cling to each other, your hands intertwined as if anchoring yourselves against the uncertain currents of life. The sounds of announcements, footsteps, and rolling suitcases blend into a distant hum.

“Promise me,” Jihoon murmurs, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, “promise me we’ll never be apart again.”

You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I promise.”

As airport security approaches, Jihoon’s grip around you tightens, his fingers refusing to let go. He senses the impending intrusion and instinctively draws you closer, pressing your head gently into the crook of his neck. His embrace is protective, shielding you from the sight of the security personnel who are making their way over to address the disturbance.

With a fierce determination, Jihoon’s eyes lock onto the approaching officers, silently pleading with them to respect the precious moment between the two of you. He keeps his voice low and steady, murmuring softly against your ear, “Just hold on a little longer.”

The security team hesitates, momentarily taken aback by Jihoon's unwavering stance. He subtly gestures to them, signaling that everything is under control. They read the unspoken command in his eyes and, after a brief pause, step back, giving you and Jihoon a moment of reprieve.

Jihoon gently loosens his embrace, just enough to glance at you. His movements are deliberate and careful, designed to keep you blissfully unaware of the escalating tension around you. His eyes scan the crowd, ensuring that no hint of anxiety reaches your serene expression. With tender precision, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch feather-light, as though he’s afraid to disrupt the calm you maintain.

You respond with a kiss that is both soft and resolute, your lips lingering on Jihoon’s in a silent promise. “I’ll never leave you,” you murmur, your words floating between you like a lifeline amidst the surrounding chaos. The declaration is a small beacon of reassurance in the whirlwind of uncertainty.

Jihoon’s grip on your hand tightens once more, his fingers wrapping around yours with a fervent tenderness that conveys the depth of his love and commitment. His gaze, locked with yours, mirrors a profound sense of devotion and urgency. Together, you weave through the dense mass of passengers, each step a defiant push against the stream of hurried travelers.

The world around you blurs into a chaotic swirl of colors and noises, but in the cocoon of your intertwined hands and shared glances, you find a grounding solace. The chaos of the airport recedes into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your combined presence. In the eye of this storm, your connection becomes an unwavering anchor, a quiet sanctuary amidst the frenetic energy of the departing crowd.

Epilogue: Sunlit Mornings and Quiet Evenings

The morning sun wove its gentle rays through the sheer curtains of your cozy apartment, casting a soft, golden luminescence that bathed the room in a tranquil, ethereal light. The city outside stirred with its habitual, soothing hum—an ambient symphony that mirrored the serene sanctuary of your home. Within this peaceful cocoon, you lay tangled in the sheets, your body twisting restlessly as you resisted the arrival of dawn.

Suddenly, the comforting warmth of your husband’s presence beside you is absent, and you stir awake with a jolt. Your eyes scan the room in a sleepy haze, but he’s nowhere to be seen. A tantalizing hint of sweetness wafts through the air, pulling you from the clutches of sleep. The inviting aroma of breakfast being prepared reaches your senses, urging you out of bed.

With a yawn and a stretch, you push aside the covers. After your wedding night you've slept naked, never wanting to sleep next to your husband without being as close as you possibly could be. So, before venturing out of the bedroom, you slip into one of his oversized t-shirts. The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, its familiar scent a soothing reminder of him.

As you wander through your apartment, every corner of the space tells a story—a living mosaic of your journey together. The walls are adorned with mementos of your shared adventures, each item a tangible fragment of your love and history. You pause beside a framed photograph from your honeymoon in Greece, the sunlit image a cherished memory. A smile tugs at your lips as you take in the scene, savoring the warmth of the moment before continuing your path to the kitchen, where the promise of a lovingly prepared breakfast awaits.

In the kitchen, Jihoon stands by the stove, a vision of effortless grace and casual allure. His tousled golden hair catches the morning light, glinting with every subtle movement, while the faintest scent of him mingles with the aroma of breakfast. His bare back is a tapestry of finely honed muscles, each sinew and contour moving with fluid precision as he flips pancakes with a practiced ease. The soft, melodic hum that escapes his lips seems almost to dance in harmony with the sizzle of the batter on the pan.

The low-hanging pants he wears hang precariously from his hips, accentuating his sculpted form and adding to the mesmerizing tableau. His every motion, from the gentle arch of his back to the easy sway of his torso, is imbued with an innate elegance and strength. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking—an intoxicating blend of divine beauty and earthy charm that leaves you spellbound.

In moments like these, it’s impossible to forget that your husband is more than mortal. He embodies an otherworldly grace, a living testament to the godly allure that first drew you to him. His presence in the kitchen is a reminder of the timeless majesty and irresistible magnetism that defines him, making it clear why he remains an enduring marvel in your life.

The kitchen is enveloped in a warm, inviting aroma—the sweet scent of breakfast mingles seamlessly with the rich, comforting fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. You move softly across the tiled floor, barely making a sound as you approach Jihoon. With a gentle, affectionate touch, you slip your arms around his waist, your fingers splaying across his bare back. Leaning in, you press a series of tender kisses to his warm skin, savoring the intimate closeness.

“Good morning,” you whisper softly, your breath warm against him, carrying the lingering softness of sleep.

Jihoon turns in your embrace, his eyes meeting yours with a love that lights up his face. A smile of pure affection curves his lips. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, a gentle squeeze in return, your gesture a quiet testament to the comfort he brings you. Moving to the counter, you pour yourself a steaming cup of coffee, cradling the warm mug between your hands. The heat from the cup seeps into your fingers, chasing away the last vestiges of the morning chill and wrapping you in its comforting embrace.

“Thanks to you, I did,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with gratitude. “And you?”

Jihoon’s gaze turns back to the stove, his eyes reflecting a deep, unspoken affection. “Always better with you beside me,” he says, his tone a mix of warmth and adoration. “Breakfast will be ready in just a minute.”

While Jihoon tends to the pancakes, you set the table with practiced ease; placing down plates, and cutlery, and adding a bowl of freshly cut fruit alongside a pot of maple syrup. Their movements around the kitchen flow seamlessly, a choreography of shared routines and unspoken affection, each gesture a silent declaration of your love.

As Jihoon approaches the table with a stack of pancakes, you greet him with a warm, anticipatory smile. He pulls out your chair with a graceful gesture, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary, and you settle into your seat, feeling the subtle brush of his leg against yours as he takes the chair across from you.

The table is soon graced with a generous serving of pancakes, each one a masterpiece adorned with vibrant, fresh fruit and delicately drizzled with syrup that glistens like liquid gold. Jihoon’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction as he places the plate before you.

“Eat well,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender, carrying a note of affection.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, the sweet syrup mingling with the fruit’s tang, and savor the deliciousness. Looking up with a playful glint in your eye, you tease him gently. “I was a bit disappointed to wake up alone this morning, but these pancakes make it all worth it.”

Jihoon chuckles softly, serving himself a portion as he takes his seat. “I had intended to bring you breakfast in bed, but you got up before I could,” he admits, his gaze warm and sincere. “I wanted to make sure you fully enjoyed your day off.”

You smile, a sense of contentment settling over you. “I’m sure I will,” you promise, your voice imbued with a mix of gratitude and anticipation, “especially with you by my side.”

You eat in comfortable silence, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow upon your faces. Your smiles spoke volumes, each glance exchanges a silent reassurance of your bond and the happiness you find in each other’s company.

“So.” Jihoon puts down his fork and pushes away his empty plate. “What’s the plan for today?”

You tilt your head in mock consideration, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Well, how about a leisurely walk in the park, a visit to the little bookstore we passed yesterday, and a cozy movie night at home?”

“That sounds perfect. I’ve been curious about that bookstore too.”

“Since when?” you question. “I haven’t seen you read since… I honestly don’t know.”

“I read your last article, don’t you remember? And I’ve been interested in the bookstore since you said that you’re interested in it,” he admits and shyly looks down at his empty plate.

A gentle warmth blooms on your cheeks, curling into a soft, loving smile. As you and Jihoon clear the table together, the morning unfolds like a tender embrace, filled with the harmonious sound of your shared laughter and lighthearted banter. The rhythmic clink of dishes and the hum of the dishwasher become a soothing melody that mingles with your voices, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

Jihoon, with a playful sparkle in his eyes, splashes water towards you as he rinses a plate. You retaliate with a mischievous flick of soap suds, and the kitchen is soon filled with your shared laughter, echoing with the joy of simple pleasures. The routine of washing dishes and tidying up is transformed into a dance of affection, each gesture and glance deepening the bond you share.

As you finish the last of the dishes, Jihoon’s arms wrap around you from behind, his embrace enveloping you in warmth and security. His chin rests gently on your shoulder, and his breath, warm and intimate, caresses your ear as he murmurs, “I love mornings like these.”

You lean back into his embrace, savoring the comforting presence of his body against yours. “Me too,” you whisper, your voice a soft caress.

His lips brush your skin with a loving, delicate touch. As you gaze into his eyes, your heart swells with a profound affection, each moment together weaving a tapestry of love and connection. “I’m so grateful for you,” you say, your voice filled with deep emotion.

After finishing the morning cleanup, you both decide to embrace the tranquility of a park walk. Since your marriage, Jihoon has significantly reduced his public appearances, choosing to protect your shared privacy. This careful balance allows him occasional escapes from the spotlight, like now, avoiding the relentless attention of fans and paparazzi despite being in public. With enough money to ensure a comfortable life, the reduced pace of his music career is a manageable trade-off for both of you.

As you wander through the park, the world outside seems to melt away. The air is cool and invigorating, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. The soft breeze glides over your skin, like a gentle caress that refreshes and revitalizes you with every breath. Above you, the canopy of trees forms a verdant mosaic, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. The play of light and shadow creates a dappled pattern on the path, enhancing the serene atmosphere.

Jihoon’s hand slips into yours, his warmth a comforting presence as you walk side by side. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant murmur of a babbling brook are soothing sounds that blend harmoniously with the peaceful ambiance of the park. Birds chirp melodically from the branches, their songs adding a natural soundtrack to your leisurely stroll.

The park seems to embrace you both, the landscape a serene backdrop to your shared moments. Each step you take together feels like a celebration of your connection, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you revel in each other’s company. The simple joy of this walk through nature, with its refreshing breeze and gentle rustle of leaves, deepens the bond you cherish, making it a cherished escape from the usual hustle and bustle of life.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Jihoon starts, his hand gently squeezing yours as you walk side by side. “We should visit that new art gallery downtown this weekend. I heard they have a fantastic exhibit on impressionist paintings.”

You nod enthusiastically, a smile lighting up your face. “That sounds wonderful! And maybe afterward, we can try that little café you’ve been raving about.”

“I haven't been raving about it" Jihoon playfully rolls his eyes, but he can't hide the red glow on his ears. “I’ve been dying to take you there. They have the best pastries in town.”

Your conversation flows naturally as you stroll through the park, seamlessly shifting from weekend plans to dreams for the future. The soft sounds of nature—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze—create a serene backdrop for your discussion.

"How about a trip to Japan?" you suggest, your gaze following a butterfly as it flutters gracefully by. "We could see the cherry blossoms in full bloom and stay in a traditional ryokan."

Jihoon’s eyes light up, and he nods with a smile. "That sounds perfect. Maybe next spring?"

"Definitely, next spring," you reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "It’s a promise."

You pause beside a serene pond, nestled like a hidden gem among the trees. The water’s surface is a flawless reflection of the sky’s soft blue, only disturbed by the occasional ripple created by ducks gliding smoothly across. Their gentle movements create a tranquil, rhythmic pattern that seems to harmonize with the rustling leaves overhead. Nearby, a charming bronze sculpture catches Jihoon’s eye—a whimsical figure of a child with outstretched arms, captured in an eternal moment of joy.

Jihoon’s eyes light up with a nostalgic twinkle, the warmth of his gaze reflecting his fondness for the place. “Every time we come here, it’s like discovering a new layer of this park’s personality. It feels like it holds little secrets just for us.”

You smile, letting out a soft, affectionate chuckle. “It’s one of those places that seems to change every time you visit. There’s always something new to notice.”

Jihoon’s expression turns contemplative, a trace of nostalgia softening his features. “Do you remember our first visit here?”

Your smile deepens as a tender warmth fills your heart. “I remember you managed to get us completely turned around, and we ended up racing home in the pouring rain. You kept insisting we were just ‘exploring new paths.’”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t get us lost! We were ‘exploring new routes.’ And besides, the rain made it better. We were drenched, but you still managed to look incredible.”

You nudge him playfully, a playful grin on your face. “Right, I was the epitome of soaked chic... But it was worth it. We came back home, took a hot bath together... I still have the photo of you wrapped in towels, you know?”

Jihoon groans, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You kept that?”

“Of course I did,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s right next to the one where you’re wearing that ridiculously oversized apron.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Oh, don’t remind me! I had no idea flour could cause such chaos.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand with a shared sense of amusement. “It was one of the few times I was actually grateful for the fire extinguisher. But honestly, those moments are some of my favorites.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still chuckling. “I should be offended by your collection of embarrassing photos. But I have to admit, they do make for great stories.”

“They do,” you say, leaning in closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “And you looked incredibly cute in both of them.”

Jihoon’s cheeks flush a tender pink at your compliment. He tries to mask his embarrassment by leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss is gentle and filled with a sweet affection that sends a flutter through your heart.

When he pulls back slightly, his eyes sparkle with a playful warmth. “Well, if I’m cute, I guess I’ll just have to accept it,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the touch intimate and affectionate. “You’ll have to accept it, and maybe start avoiding those memorable disasters.”

Jihoon laughs, his hand finding yours again, their fingers intertwining with ease. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I think you secretly enjoy our little escapades.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling the strength of your connection grow deeper. “Maybe I do.”

You lean in for another kiss, savoring the warmth and softness of his lips against yours. As you pull away, both of you laugh softly, the sound blending with the peaceful ambiance of the park. The vibrant surroundings seem to echo the joy and affection between you, creating a perfect backdrop for your ongoing journey together.

Later on, as you meander through the cozy aisles of the bookstore, the atmosphere envelops you in a nostalgic embrace. The scent of aged paper and ink fills the air, mingling with the subtle murmur of pages being turned—a soft, soothing symphony that enhances the serene ambiance of the space. Shelves upon shelves of books create a labyrinth of literary wonders, each volume whispering its own story.

Jihoon, his eyes alight with curiosity, reaches for a book with a richly embossed cover and pulls it from the shelf. “Look at this one,” he says, holding it out to you. “It’s a collection of Greek myths. This is the book you used to love, right?”

You take the book from him, feeling the textured cover beneath your fingers. The spine creaks gently as you open it, revealing the delicate pages within. “Yes, I did. My grandmother used to read these stories to me before bed,” you reply, your voice tinged with fond memories.

Jihoon leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “To think you were obsessed with me even back then,” he teases with a playful smile, peering over your shoulder at the illustrations and text.

You smile, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Shut up,” you mutter with a playful tone. “Besides, I liked the Pegasus myth the most.”

He chuckles softly, a hint of mock exasperation in his voice. “Are you going to make me compete with a winged horse? What do you see in him that you don’t see in me?”

“Oh, stop it!” you laugh, flipping through the pages with a light-hearted gesture. “I just always found these stories fascinating. They were comforting, somehow.”

Jihoon’s playful demeanor softens, and his gaze turns tender as he gently places his hand over yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours on the fine pages. “Then let’s get it. We can read them together… maybe pass on the tradition?”

You nod, your heart swelling with warmth at his thoughtful gesture. “I’d like that.”

The notion of starting a family has gently hovered on the periphery of your conversations, like a delicate, unspoken promise. It's a subject often delicately sidestepped in favor of addressing more immediate concerns, with the complexities of melding mortal and divine lives remaining a largely unexplored territory. Yet, Jihoon’s casual mention of passing on traditions stirs something deep within you—a whirlwind of dreams and possibilities wrapped in the warmth of tender, hopeful light.

As you both continue to browse through the bookstore, your thoughts drift to the future and the idea of nurturing a family together. The image of little ones running around, their laughter echoing through your home, begins to take shape in your mind. You envision how magical it would be to pass on stories of ancient myths, like the ones in the book Jihoon holds, to a new generation. These children could grow up hearing tales of gods and heroes, their lives intertwined with the rich tapestry of both mortal and divine worlds.

You imagine the joys and challenges of parenthood—how Jihoon would be a loving, albeit perhaps somewhat protective, father. You picture him sharing stories of his own experiences, creating a blend of wisdom and wonder for your future children. You think of the warmth of family gatherings, the shared laughter, and the little traditions you might create together, all grounded in the love and unity you share.

Jihoon's offhand remark about passing on traditions feels like a doorway opening to new possibilities, each one more enchanting than the last. As you both select books that reflect your shared tastes and interests, you feel the excitement of these future possibilities growing. The weight of the books in your arms seems symbolic of the future you're envisioning—a future that feels rich with potential and brimming with love.

As you head home, the golden rays of the afternoon sun filter through the trees, casting a warm, rosy glow across the sky. The gentle caress of the sun’s embrace wraps around you both, infusing the day with a serene and hopeful atmosphere. With each step, you find yourself daydreaming about the life you might build together—a life where the love and dreams you share become the foundation for a new chapter filled with the joy of family and the fulfillment of long-held aspirations.

As the evening settles into a serene hush, you and Jihoon find yourselves cocooned together on the plush couch, enveloped in the soft embrace of a cozy blanket. The room is bathed in the gentle glow of a muted TV screen, its light casting a warm, amber hue that mingles with the soft illumination of a nearby lamp. The air is filled with the subtle hum of background music, creating a soothing symphony that underscores the tranquil ambiance.

You and Jihoon, having eagerly awaited the release of this new movie, now savor the comfort of this intimate moment. You lean gently against him, your cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic heartbeat beneath your ear is a familiar and comforting pulse, grounding you in a sense of profound contentment.

In the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room, Jihoon’s touch is tender and affectionate. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. The kiss is a silent promise, a gentle reassurance that transcends words. His hand moves with practiced ease over your arm, tracing delicate, soothing circles that seem to erase the day’s fatigue and envelop you in a cocoon of serenity.

The world outside seems to blur and fade, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of love and peace. The movie plays in the background, its muted colors and subdued soundtrack a mere backdrop to the profound connection you share. You are wholly absorbed in the simple joy of being together, relishing the quiet and precious closeness that defines this moment.

Every shared glance, every unspoken word, deepens the bond between you. It is in these small, tender gestures that you discover the true depth of your affection—an understanding that goes beyond words, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. You realize how deeply you cherish these peaceful evenings, where time slows, and all that matters is the warmth of Jihoon’s embrace and the serenity of being together.

“I love you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice a gentle caress that fills the space between you with a tender warmth.

You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes reflecting a world of emotions that words cannot capture. “I love you, too."

As the movie’s credits roll and the room grows dim, you and Jihoon linger on the couch, savoring the last moments of your quiet evening together. The gentle hum of the TV becomes a soft murmur, blending seamlessly with the soothing sounds of your shared breaths and the rhythmic thump of Jihoon’s heartbeat.

Jihoon stretches lazily, wrapping an arm around you as he begins to stand. “Do you want to head to bed?” he asks, his voice a tender murmur, his eyes still reflecting the warmth of the evening.

You nod, your smile a silent agreement as you rise from the couch. The blanket drapes over your shoulders like a comforting embrace as you follow Jihoon toward the bedroom. The walk is slow and unhurried, each step infused with a peaceful contentment.

Once in the bedroom, Jihoon turns down the covers with practiced ease, his movements gentle and considerate. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the room, creating a haven of tranquility. You slip into bed first, savoring the cool, crisp sheets that contrast with the lingering warmth of the evening. Jihoon joins you shortly after, his presence a comforting weight beside you.

You both settle into the bed, your bodies naturally aligning as if they’ve done so countless times before. Jihoon wraps his arms around you, pulling you close until you can feel the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. The proximity is intimate, each touch and sigh a testament to the deep connection you share.

“Goodnight, my love,” Jihoon whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly in his embrace, your face nestled against his chest. “Goodnight."

The world outside fades away, leaving only the cocoon of your shared warmth and the soothing cadence of your breaths mingling in the quiet.

As sleep begins to take you, Jihoon’s fingers gently stroke your arm, each touch a silent declaration of his love. “I love you,” he whispers again, as if to make sure that you really know it, his voice barely audible as he too begins to drift off.

“I love you, too,” you reply softly, your words merging with the soft sounds of the night. “Always.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, you both surrender to the peaceful embrace of sleep, the world outside remaining distant and irrelevant. In the stillness of the night, you find solace and joy in the certainty of your bond, drifting into dreams with hearts full and souls entwined.

feedback is always appreciated!

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idyllic-ghost · 9 months ago

Text

title: warm me up

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: soobin makes you feel better after a hard day of skiing in the mountains

a/n: this is specifically for @strawberryya

warnings: none

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.1k

rating: pg

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As you stumbled through the cabin door, your entire body sagged with exhaustion. The biting cold still clung to your cheeks, and you couldn’t suppress the frustrated huff that escaped your lips. “I don’t like skiing.”

Behind you, Soobin entered with an easy, lighthearted chuckle. His laughter was as gentle as the snowfall outside. “You say that now, but tomorrow you’ll be back out there again,” he teased, his breath still visible in the chilly air.

You flopped down heavily on the bench by the door, the ache in your muscles making it impossible to do anything but sulk. The day had been a blur of tumbles and missteps in the deep, powdery snow. Each fall had left you more drained than the last, and now, the thought of moving even a single muscle felt unbearable. You sat slumped, watching Soobin’s steady hands as he shed his coat and boots, placing them neatly in their place by the door. His presence filled the small cabin with warmth, an antidote to the cold clinging to your clothes and skin. When he turned to look at you, his smile was like sunshine cutting through a snowstorm, softening the frustration that had knotted in your chest.

Pouting, you glanced up at him. He tilted his head, his eyebrows lifting just slightly as if to silently ask if you were okay. His eyes sparkled with that same affectionate concern you’d grown to love. Without a word, he knelt down in front of you, his fingers already working gently at the laces of your boots. His touch was tender, careful, and despite the lingering cold, you felt a warmth spread through you as he slipped off each boot.

“My poor baby is all tired out,” he murmured softly, his voice full of warmth and a teasing sweetness that made your heart flutter. His lips curved into a fond smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Let me take care of everything.”

A soft sigh escaped you as you looked at him, your voice almost a whisper. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, nodding as his hands moved to help you out of your heavy ski jacket. “I’ll make us some dinner, and then we’ll get you cozy in bed.”

You frowned lightly, though the act was half-hearted at best. Even though every part of your body protested any movement, you couldn’t quite agree with his plan. But you were far too tired to put up a fight. Soobin’s hands were gentle as he slipped the jacket from your shoulders and hung it neatly beside his own. You clumsily shimmied out of your ski pants, passing them to him before slowly making your way toward the couch. The small cabin was a haven of warmth compared to the biting chill outside, and it took only a few steps before you sank into the plush cushions. You reached for the nearest blanket, burrowing yourself into its soft, cocooning embrace.

From across the room, Soobin laughed, the sound rich and warm as he watched your sleepy retreat. “Do you not like my idea?” he asked, his tone playful as he approached, still unable to hide his grin.

“I want hot cocoa,” you whined, the words muffled by the blanket you had pulled over your face. “And a movie… and cuddles… and maybe you could rub my sore muscles?”

His laughter softened, and he crouched down beside the couch, his dark eyes gleaming with affection as he brushed your hair back from your forehead. “Of course, princess,” he said with a grin, “and maybe a warm bath too?”

Your eyes brightened at the suggestion, and you nodded eagerly, the thought of sinking into a hot bath making your tired limbs feel just a little bit lighter. “That sounds… really nice,” you admitted, your voice sleepy and soft.

Soobin chuckled again, standing up and heading for the bathroom to draw you the bath. The moment the water started running, the soothing sound echoed through the small cabin, and you could already feel yourself relaxing just at the thought of it.

After a long, steaming bath that melted away the soreness in your muscles, you slipped into your coziest pajamas—fluffy socks and all—and padded toward the kitchen. The wooden floor was cool beneath your feet, but the sight of Soobin at the stove, his back turned to you, made everything feel warm. His pajama pants hung loosely at his hips, and his hoodie was just a little too big, giving him an extra cozy appearance. The soft light from the stove illuminated his figure, and for a moment, you just stood there, smiling softly at the sight of him.

Hearing your quiet approach, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “You’re all done with your bath, baby?”

You hummed in response and shuffled forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against the soft fabric of his hoodie. His warmth immediately enveloped you, and the scent of chocolate wafting from the stove was intoxicating. Soobin chuckled, placing his hand over yours where they rested on his stomach, holding it there for a moment before continuing his task.

“I’m making your hot chocolate, just like you wanted,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

You nuzzled against his back, breathing in his comforting scent. “It smells amazing,” you murmured, your voice filled with contentment.

He turned slightly, smiling down at you, before handing you the hot cocoa. Steam curled up from the mug, carrying the sweet aroma of melted chocolate, whipped cream, and tiny marshmallows. You cradled the mug in your hands, its warmth spreading through your fingers as you made your way back to the couch.

Once Soobin had finished in the kitchen, he joined you, pulling a blanket over the both of you as you snuggled close. The hot cocoa was rich and decadent, the perfect antidote to the cold and fatigue that still lingered in your bones. Soobin held the remote, flipping through movie options as you took a slow sip, the warmth filling your chest.

“Ready for a movie?” he asked softly, looking down at you with a gentle smile.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you rested your head against his chest. “Thank you,” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his arm wrapped securely around you as you began to drift off. “Are you falling asleep already?” he teased gently, carefully taking the mug from your hands.

“Mmm… sorry,” you mumbled, your voice fading with sleep. “You did all this, and now I’m too tired to enjoy it.”

Soobin’s soft laughter rumbled against your cheek as he pulled you closer, his fingers brushing through your hair. “You don’t need to apologize, baby. Rest if you need to. We’ll heat up the cocoa again if it goes cold.”

With a contented hum, you nestled deeper into his embrace, the soft beat of his heart beneath your ear lulling you into the most peaceful sleep. The warmth of his arms, the sweetness of the hot chocolate still on your lips, and the promise of tomorrow made everything feel utterly perfect.

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