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yoonia · 3 months

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A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago.

Everything.

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom.

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls.

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight.

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from.

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life.

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control.

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure.

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right.

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart.

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.”

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat.

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you.

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback.

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text?

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company.

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty.

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet.

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night.

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar.

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call.

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks.

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night.

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did.

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all.

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be.

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand.

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade.

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks.

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation.

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality?

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom.

“Can I order you another glass of drink?”

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar.

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away.

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed.

“I’m sorry?”

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice.

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile.

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body?

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer.

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it.

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him.

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?”

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?”

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless.

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier.

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm.

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him.

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had.

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin.

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began.

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.”

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you.

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face.

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it.

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued.

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.”

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside.

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything.

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.”

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?”

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble.

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone.

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin.

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you—

“Would you like it to be?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core.

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question.

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time.

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night.

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then.

Well, almost everything.

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence.

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen.

You scoff at the thought.

Right. Miracles.

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore.

Not for you, at least.

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side.

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own.

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it?

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you.

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis.

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way.

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.”

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings.

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him.

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.”

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see.

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back.

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?”

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her.

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything.

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?”

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated.

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa.

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to.

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking.

“Okay.”

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it.

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip.

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach.

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then?

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle.

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember.

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands.

Because you were already feeling sick that day.

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’.

If only you knew then.

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle.

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.”

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.”

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back.

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink.

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking?

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?”

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?”

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.”

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it.

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces.

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice.

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—”

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it.

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby.

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly.

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach.

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night.

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?”

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better.

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city.

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company.

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story.

“I have no idea where to start.”

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?”

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.”

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.”

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?”

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.”

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.”

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long.

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.”

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other.

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart.

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.”

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.”

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.”

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.”

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.”

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over.

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.”

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.”

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.”

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.”

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?”

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.”

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—”

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him.

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had.

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.”

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.”

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?”

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.”

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it.

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.”

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?”

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?”

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to.

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school.

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her.

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?”

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs.

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.”

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit.

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago.

Long before the trip.

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time.

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved.

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind.

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.”

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.”

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.”

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand.

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system.

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it.

“Do you remember his name?”

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.”

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.”

“Tae—what?”

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.”

“Seriously?”

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe.

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night.

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank.

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?”

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident.

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.”

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?”

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke.

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking.

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did.

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night.

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night.

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.”

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.”

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you.

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind.

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious?

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes.

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby.

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see.

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.”

Ah.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive.

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips.

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body.

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you.

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions.

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?”

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say.

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go.

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking.

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then.

Until now.

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move one.”

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby.

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.”

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life.

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this.

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family.

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.”

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case.

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened.

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.”

Stepsister.

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly.

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends.

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt.

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter.

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.”

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.”

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head.

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends.

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year.

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.”

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?”

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting.

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone.

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying.

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick.

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.”

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door.

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him.

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach.

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?”

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute.

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter.

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start.

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults.

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving.

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you.

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.”

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion.

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests.

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out.

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.”

That voice.

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well.

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice.

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door.

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first.

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him.

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes.

Too familiar.

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago.

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city.

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands.

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.”

No.

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe.

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae?

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream.

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him.

Please. Please don’t let it be him.

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend.

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence.

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong.

Please tell me that it’s not him.

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you.

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along.

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever.

Fuck.

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in.

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out.

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet.

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it.

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same.

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves.

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing.

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table.

Taehyung.

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents.

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today.

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder.

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind?

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted.

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught.

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.”

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.”

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—”

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude.

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner.

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it.

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend.

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits.

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you.

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else.

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down.

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner.

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile.

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further.

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer.

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home.

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice.

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along.

"No, Honey. What would that be?”

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—”

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget.

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about?

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner.

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey.

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—”

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to.

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything.

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her.

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.”

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s.

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow.

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons.

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?”

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.”

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.”

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty.

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year?

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.”

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing.

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue.

But what’s in it to you?

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now.

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out.

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous?

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up?

Fuck.

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter.

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.”

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue.

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming.

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling.

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?”

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.”

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes.

But not this time.

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions.

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense.

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—”

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you.

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you.

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.”

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone.

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside.

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you.

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath.

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat.

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this.

About him.

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud.

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing.

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation.

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken?

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite?

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night.

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment.

But what if that was all just another lie?

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over.

Fuck. Now what?

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch.

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down.

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.”

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little.

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone.

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind.

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence.

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off.

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you.

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours.

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door.

No matter how fucking messy it is.

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste.

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom.

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices.

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance.

As though he has been waiting for you.

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned.

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there.

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—”

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.”

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it.

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily.

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.”

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it.

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you.

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now.

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking,

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.”

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold.

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again.

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact.

A night to escape from reality.

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him.

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine.

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it.

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.”

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off.

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else?

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—”

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains.

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?”

He falls silent, taken aback.

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.”

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him?

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.”

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?”

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time.

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind.

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next.

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.”

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this.

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far.

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?”

You frown at him. “What is it?”

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak.

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.”

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request.

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?”

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.”

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed.

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly.

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark.

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes.

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this.

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another.

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request.

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—”

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further.

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.”

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him.

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.”

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows.

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway.

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him.

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family.

You may have to deal with everything yourself.

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all.

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off.

Stop it.

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him.

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else.

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking.

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down.

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane.

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep.

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded.

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams.

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted.

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer.

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room.

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.”

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight.

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight.

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses.

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes.

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze.

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.”

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice.

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite.

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you.

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move.

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away.

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar.

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped.

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there.

Until this moment.

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you.

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge.

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on.

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress.

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back.

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep.

But you had gone deep.

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives.

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this.

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.”

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.”

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth.

“This is what I want.”

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more.

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms.

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh.

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge.

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most.

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair.

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core.

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone.

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more.

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.”

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more.

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.”

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell.

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in.

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face.

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you.

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body.

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue.

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings.

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him.

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.”

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest.

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth.

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue.

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him.

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste.

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you.

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face.

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence.

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice.

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts.

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base.

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down.

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face.

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you.

Now it was your turn to give him a show.

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would.

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.”

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?”

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.”

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control.

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.”

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction.

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there.

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him.

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him.

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size.

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts.

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words.

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.”

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls.

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more.

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.”

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch.

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip.

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up.

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!”

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls.

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.”

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command.

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze.

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.”

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to.

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you.

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you.

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you.

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream.

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been.

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down.

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you.

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail.

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own.

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips.

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled.

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it.

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss.

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.”

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax.

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him.

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.”

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

#k-vanity #bangtanwhq #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts x reader

2K notes · View notes

asahicore · 10 months

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kiwi and layla - sjy

pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected. genre. high school au, f2l, lots of fluff and some angst too, f2l, shy reader x outgoing jake warnings. food & swearing, mention of parent death and divorce, kms jokes, jake being stupid but also really cute (lmk if i've missed any!) word count. 26.3k a/n. this is part of the unexpected collab !!! go check out the other fics and caelin thank u for hosting <333 hope u guys like this one, it took me a while but i had so so much fun writing it !!! i love my jakey in here he's a little bit confused but he's got the spirit. @zreamy thanks for being the world's awesomest beta reader and a decent friend ig... 2 baddies wouldnt be the same without you... lifeguard wet body sunghoon coming soon guys dont miss it! as always pls remember how important reblogs and feedback is for us writers!!! it's what keeps us going <3 enjoy!!

listen to the playlist!

This was not your backpack.

In your defense, it looked so similar to yours - scratch that, it was the exact same as yours - that you couldn’t possibly have been able to tell the difference between the two bags until you’d opened one of them. Just a basic black Eastpak that probably a hundred other kids in your school owned with nothing to tell them apart, because you hadn’t had the mind to add a little something to it and make it recognizable. You hadn’t really needed to - your backpack was always on your back, next to your seat or in your locker. There was no way you might lose it or mistake it with another.

Until today, obviously. Instead of having a chill last class before spring break like every other teacher, your psycho math teacher Mr Choi had decided to give you a major test on this otherwise beautiful Friday afternoon. While other students watched a movie or played Kahoot, you were stuck in a cold classroom with algebra questions in front of you. Mr Choi had argued that this would be better than having a test after the holidays and ruining your time off with studying, but a test was a test, and math was math, so you hated the idea anyway.

To eliminate all cheating possibilities, Mr Choi made his students only take a pencil and eraser with them, leave their bag at the back of the classroom and put their phone in a box he kept on his desk. Plus, with his hawk eyes watching intently, there was no way to sneak answers on a small sheet of paper or even on your palm.

When the test was over, your brain was so fried and you were so eager to get the hell out of there that you didn’t even notice the two identical black backpacks next to each other, you just grabbed the first one you saw, not even questioning that it might not be yours.

And indeed, yours it was not. From your snooping around, you quickly found out it belonged to one Jake Sim.

You knew Jake. Although you’d been attending the same school for the past three years, you could probably count the number of times you’d talked on one hand - but you knew him. Or at least, you knew of him. You knew that he was good at STEM subjects and that he was on the soccer team; you knew he was a really sweet guy and was easy to talk to, even for someone shy like you.

Most importantly, you knew he was friends with Park Sunghoon. This was important because you had liked Park Sunghoon since the moment you’d laid eyes on him - or rather, your whole friend group had. It might’ve sounded extremely odd to others, but you and your friends had a few random people at school you liked to keep tabs on or create backstories for, and Sunghoon, because of his dashing looks that had struck all four of you in your first week of freshman year, was one of your victims. Well, you liked to think of them as characters on a TV show rather than victims, but to each his own. Your other characters included that popular sophomore who already considered herself a celebrity because of her ten thousand followers on TikTok anyway, the French and Spanish teachers you were sure had a thing going on, and that one guy in Yena’s biology class that only showed up every two weeks but always looked stoned (hat guy, Chaewon liked to call him, even you’d never once seen him with a hat on). It was all harmless, really - none of you ever actually went up and talked to them, just discussed them among yourselves.

Perhaps Sunghoon was different, because each of you had had a class with him at some point, so you’d all had at least shared a word with him. You probably hadn’t talked to him more times than you’d talked to Jake, so the information you knew about him was pretty surface-level - he was an ice skater, but everyone knew that, and he was shy like you, which was immediately noticeable. He also had one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. But again, everyone who saw him knew that.

You, Yena and Chaewon had debated whether one of you should just go ahead and make a move (Hyewon didn’t participate because she already had a boyfriend, but she was all for approaching the boy). You guessed you could describe what you felt towards Sunghoon as a sort of crush, even if it was one you shared with your friends - you found him cute, and you got nervous when he was around. But you were more the watch-from-afar-and-pine type, so you were satisfied with liking him from a distance. You didn’t think you actually had the guts to strike a conversation with him - that was more Chaewon’s thing.

However, this didn’t mean you weren’t curious about the contents of his best friend’s backpack. Your being shy didn’t mean you weren’t interested in other people’s lives - if anything, you were quite nosy. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you were just a regular teenage girl, so this was fine, right? After just a few minutes of snooping, you found out Jake Sim wasn’t hiding any big state secrets in his Eastpak, anyway. Just some textbooks, notebooks, and a lot of single sheets of paper. It was pretty messy in there.

Your idea of him being good at STEM subjects was correct - he kept all of his graded tests in the sleeve pocket of his math notebook, and there was not a single one that had received a note under 95. He even seemed to be doing some extracurricular exercises - there were formulae that were completely unfamiliar to you and that you were sure you hadn’t done in class. You found it slightly insane, but that might have just been because you despised math and wouldn’t understand why someone would want to do more of it than was required of them.

His English homework was another story. His essays had more red from the teacher’s pen than his own black ink, and from the grades on his reading comprehension tests, you highly doubted he’d actually read any of the assigned books. You weren’t in the same English class but apparently had the same teacher, Ms Park, so you were studying the same thing. You couldn’t help but cringe as you read his answers on a Pride and Prejudice reading test - he seemingly kept mixing the sisters up, assigning actions and character traits to Lydia that clearly belonged to Jane. At least he somewhat got Darcy right, writing that “he’s probably not as bad as he looks,” with no further explanation.

As you aimlessly flipped through his English notebook, curious about the way he took his notes - or if he even took any - you noticed some scribbles in the margins. Looking closer, some of them were in his handwriting while others were in an unfamiliar one. It looked like some sort of conversation, so you assumed the other writing belonged to his deskmate. You also did this with your friends in classes where the teacher was very strict about no chatting in class.

dude coach said if I fail any of my classes I would be out of the team, you read Jake’s handwriting.

Wait seriously????

yeah and I suck at english so Im scared it might actually happen

You just need to study more bro

bro I DO but this shit is hard

Then find someone to help you

neither of you guys is that good in that subject either tho

Ok ouch but also just find someone else then

bro who

IDK man

Y/N maybe ? she’s good at English and she’s nice so she might say yes

there you go about y/n again dude MAYBE you ask HER to teach you some sonnets

Shut up you’re the one who needs help dumbass

whatever isn’t it weird just asking her randomly though like i dont want her to feel like she has to say yes

Lol if she sees your grades she might do it out of pity

fuck u man

You were surprised to see your own name written there - it felt weird knowing that Jake and his friend were talking about you, for some reason. And what if that friend was Sunghoon? You had a hard time believing he not only knew you existed, but thought of you as good at English and nice. You liked to think both of these things were true.

He was also spot-on about saying you would agree to helping out Jake in those subjects, but what he got wrong was thinking you’d do it out of pity. Clearly, you and Jake were in very similar positions. You didn’t have any sort of club you’d be kicked out of if you failed a class, but it sure as hell wouldn’t look good on your college applications, so you needed to get your math grades up.

Jake and you both desperately needed something the other person could help with, so you had a feeling he wouldn’t turn down the offer that was brewing in your head.

—

This was not Jake’s backpack.

He noticed it right away - it was much heavier than his own and the straps were tighter around his shoulders than they should be. He looked inside for some clues about who it might belong to, and luckily, the first thing he found was a journal that had Y/N’S DIARY written on the cover page in big, pink letters.

Unluckily, however, he’d also noticed that you had practically sprinted out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, and indeed, you were already far gone when he tried looking for you around school. He had to get to soccer practice anyway, so he put the issue to the side for the time being.

When he got home, he had to shower then have dinner, so it wasn’t until 8 p.m. that he remembered he had your backpack. He had meant to text you straightaway about it, and he knew it was wrong to look into someone’s belongings, but he couldn’t help himself, especially when his best friend Sunghoon had liked you for ages. Maybe this was an opportunity to find out more about you.

Your mind-blowing grades in English don’t come as much of a surprise to him, and after reading through your most recent essay, he thought you definitely deserved them. Your essay was on a Shakespeare play he had never heard of - you apparently also had Ms Park for English, and he didn’t know she was doing Shakespeare in class, so he wondered for a second if you were actually crazy enough to read another book and study it. As if 300 pages of Jane Austen weren’t enough as it was.

What shocked him were your math grades. It was like looking into a fucked-up mirror: while you excelled at English, you sucked at math; while he excelled at math, he sucked at English. You were just as close to failing your math class as he was at failing English.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Sunghoon’s idea hadn’t been so dumb - you could help him out, and he had an actual argument as to why you should, rather than just using pity on you.

As he put your stuff back in your bag, he was reminded of something - your diary. For some reason, the pretty floral pattern on the cover made him feel even worse for opening the journal in the first place, but he did it anyway. Either you’d only just picked up the habit of writing in a diary or you had finished your previous one recently, but this one seemed pretty new, as only about ten pages had been filled with your neat handwriting. Judging from the dates at the top of almost every page, you wrote in there everyday, and Jake only felt even worse that you hadn’t been able to write in it that day.

Still, he flicked to the first page and started reading. And he read and read, unable to take his eyes away from your diary. He thought he wouldn’t have cared much and a page would have satisfied his curiosity, but the way you wrote about the people around you and about yourself fascinated him. Basic high school things like friend drama and annoying teachers actually became interesting through your words. You didn’t use particularly complicated sentences or unheard-of words, on the contrary, you used simple language, and that spoke a lot more to Jake than any of the classics he’d attempted to read for class.

And then, he saw an all too familiar name in an entry dated from just a few days ago.

I sat next to Sunghoon today. It was during physics and both of our desk partners were absent, so Mrs Kim made me change seats. She always does this, and I used to wonder whether she hated to see an empty seat or to see a student sitting on their own, but whatever the reason, today, I was just happy about it. This isn’t our first time sitting next to each other in class, but I was still nervous, since I wasn’t expecting it. I hope he couldn’t feel the awkwardness practically oozing off of me or the way I very obviously struggled with the exercises (obviously, anything to do with math is not my forte). We shared my textbook because he’d forgotten his, and he showed me his notes when he saw I couldn’t keep up with Mrs Kim as she told us what to write down. We only exchanged a few words but I was satisfied when class was over. It’s odd, because you’d think someone would want to talk to the person they like and get to know them more, but I don’t feel that with Sunghoon. Maybe it’s because we’re both so introverted, and he seems to have just as hard a time as I do starting conversations, so I’ve sort of accepted our silent fate. I’m fine just continuing to steal glances at him from across the cafeteria.

After that, there were a few more pages of writing up until yesterday's entry, but it was the only mention of Sunghoon. Jake had apparently been wrong to think that a girl’s diary would be full of rantings about her crush and things along the lines of “omg, he looked at me today”.

But you had very clearly referred to Sunghoon as the person you liked, and Jake wasn’t going to let that go so easily. This was precious information that he held in his hands now, so he had to figure out how to deal with it properly for your sake as well as his friend’s.

Turns out there was more he could help you with than just algebra.

—

Seeing Jake Sim in a setting other than school was slightly odd, if you were being completely honest.

You had just been about to text him about the backpack mix-up when you’d received a message from the man himself, asking if you could meet up the next day to exchange them. In response, you’d asked where you should meet, thinking he’d offer either his house or yours, or some halfway point between them, but he surprised you by proposing some café in the center of town. They have good hot chocolate there, he’d said, and that had been enough to convince you.

And also I have something I want to talk to you about.

Your stomach had turned at this message - what on Earth could Jake Sim need to discuss with you had been your first thought, and then you realized you also had plans you wanted to share with him. So his idea of going to a café was actually good for you, too.

You’d only been waiting for about five minutes when he appeared at the café, red and panting from seemingly sprinting to his destination.

“Y/N, I’m sooo sorry,” he immediately said when he saw you waiting. “I was planning to be early, but when I got on the bus I realized I literally forgot your bag, so I had to go back but the next bus wasn’t for another twenty minutes so I just ran the whole way here, and now I’m all sweaty, and I’m late, and I’m really sorry.”

He’d rushed through his sentence and was breathing heavily as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. He seemed so genuinely sorry for such a small thing that after your surprise faded, you started laughing. It was his turn to be surprised, and he immediately stopped talking at the sound of your soft giggles.

“It’s okay, Jake. I haven’t even been waiting five minutes,” you explained, smiling. “Let’s just go in, yeah?”

Jake’s heart did something weird just then, and the feeling was so unfamiliar and confusing that he decided to promptly ignore it. As if in a daze, he stood still for a couple of seconds until the sound of a bell ringing, the one the café had on its doors to signify the entrance or exit of a customer, snapped him out of it. He followed you into the shop, let you order and pay for you both (“I’m the one who took the wrong bag, it’s the least I can do,” you’d said) and sat across from you at a booth in the back.

You gave each other your respective bags back, then started chatting as you sipped on your hot chocolates (Jake had been right - they really were delicious). He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and whether he sensed you were a reserved person or was just naturally talkative, you liked that he both managed to do most of the talking and ask you loads of questions at once. Usually, you wouldn’t have really cared to listen to someone go on and on about their passion for soccer and the recent game that their team had won, but for some reason, you were hooked on Jake’s every word. The way his eyes widened in excitement as he recounted the winning goal he scored, the way the volume of his voice decreased as he filled you in on the team gossip even though no one was listening to your conversation, the way his grin turned into a proud smirk as he mentioned his coach congratulating him - every single one of his actions had you mesmerized. You’d never seen anyone so expressive in their speech, never seen anyone punctuate every sentence with a movement or a facial expression. It was just fun, listening to him.

Even when he didn’t talk, he stayed expressive. He asked you whether you did anything outside of school, and he listened intently as you told him about the theater group you’re in, humming and nodding and laughing at all the right moments. Usually, you wouldn’t have talked about it for more than thirty seconds, afraid to bore others with unnecessary details, but Jake’s reactions and the questions he asked made you actually feel listened to and like what you were talking about was interesting. So you grew more confident and told him what you loved about acting and about theater, about your own gossip (the arrogant actress who got the lead role and thought she was better than everyone else, that one guy who was clearly flirting with three girls at the same time), and you almost couldn’t believe Jake seemed so entertained by your stories.

“So, you said your group focused on more classic plays, right? Does that mean you’re good at English Lit?”

With his spoon, Jake scooped some whipped cream into his mouth, hoping he was appearing as nonchalant as he was trying to be. He had to make you think he’d deduced that just now and not because he had been snooping through your backpack just the night prior.

You, however, could not have cared less how he’d figured it out - you were just grateful he had segued into this topic of school and grades, because you’d been wanting to bring it up yourself but had no idea how.

“Um, yeah, actually, it’s my best subject. Math, on the other hand…”

You chuckled as his eyes widened and he leaned in across the table, pointing his spoon at you as he spoke. “See, that’s interesting, because math is my best subject, but I suck at English Lit.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, trying to sound genuinely surprised even though this piece of information was not at all new to you.

“Yeah,” he said, looking back down at his almost-finished drink with a small smile on his face.

“You know-”

You and Jake had spoken at the same time, and your eyes locked for a second before you started laughing. You gestured at him to go on first.

“I actually need pretty urgent help in English. Coach said he’ll put us out of the team if we fail even just one of our courses, and I’m very close to failing that class.” He took a moment to let out a sigh. “So, if you want, we could help each other out. Me with math, and you with English.”

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and he bit his lip as he looked at you expectantly. You thought he looked far too nervous for such a simple request, expression more like a boy who’d just asked his crush to the prom rather than offering mutual help you both desperately needed. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips - you had never known Jake Sim to be so… cute. But he was waiting for an answer, so you pushed the thought out of your head.

“That’s a great idea, actually,” you replied, as if you hadn’t had the exact same idea. You were just relieved you hadn’t even had to bring it up yourself. “I also really can’t afford to fail math. It would look terrible on college applications.”

Jake let out a long, loud exhale. “God, yeah, college, I hadn’t even thought of that. Even more motivation to get better grades now,” he said with a chuckle.

You chuckled along, then cleared your throat and sat up straighter. You watched with amusement as Jake mirrored your actions and even the fake serious frown in your brows. You presented your hand for him to shake, which he did without hesitation.

“So it’s a deal then. We’ll tutor each other until we’ve gotten our grades up.”

“Deal,” he replied. As you both withdrew your hands, he dropped his serious facade and burst into giggles, a sound you hadn’t expected from the boy but somehow fit him well. You watched his face closely for a second, noticing the curl of his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, before breaking into laughter yourself.

You stayed in the café for another half hour, going over details of where and when you’d meet, of what exactly you needed help with (“Everything,” you’d said, to which Jake had replied “Same”), and just talked some more.

“I’m taking the 53 that way,” Jake said when you exited the café, pointing towards the bus stop.

“Oh, so am I!” you exclaimed.

“Seriously?! What’s your stop?”

And that’s how you and Jake figured out you only lived two bus stops away from each other.

“That’s so cool! It’ll make it easy to meet up then,” he said, and you hummed in agreement. After a pause, he added: “But if we live so close to each other, how come we didn’t go to the same schools earlier? Aren’t you usually supposed to go to the one in your district?”

“I used to live in another part of town,” you explained. “Then my parents divorced when I was in middle school, and I stayed with my dad because he lived closer to the school I was at, but I moved to my mom’s place for high school.”

“‘Cause she lives closer?”

“Yeah, basically.” There was more to it, but you didn’t think Jake would be particularly interested in your parental issues - although you surprised yourself for even considering telling him. If Jake sensed that you weren’t saying everything, he didn’t push, just swiftly changed the topic as you waited for the bus to come.

When you got home some time later, the first thing you did was open your diary and start writing. It had felt wrong not to write in it even just for a day, so it was a relief to feel the pages between your fingers and the familiar scent of the paper and your perfumed pen. You wrote without thinking too much, simply letting all of your musings out into your diary and freely brushing the tip of your pen across the pages.

You didn’t ever reread your entries right after writing them, but if you had that day, you might have noticed all you could write about was the boy you’d drank a hot chocolate with.

—

Spring break week passed by far too quickly, and it was on the first Monday back at school that you and Jake met again. He had soccer practice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, while you had theater rehearsals on Thursdays and Saturdays, so you’d agreed to meet up every Monday and Wednesday after school. Since his mother worked as the school nurse, she drove him to and from school everyday - so on Monday, you met Jake in front of the nurse’s station, waiting for his mom to wrap things up before she drove you both to their home.

You had been surprised to learn that the kind nurse that never asked too many questions and always let students take a nap if they didn’t feel well was Jake’s mom, but upon reflection, it made sense. Once you knew, it was almost obvious that she had raised him - they shared the same friendliness, the same comforting smile and the same ability to make conversation. The whole ride home, she asked you about yourself and thanked you for agreeing to tutor “our little Jakey,” because “God knows he needs the help.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when a blush crept on Jake’s face and he looked out the passenger seat window with an embarrassed frown, muttering something like “Thanks a lot, Mom.”

She noticed his reaction and laughed along with you. “I’m just saying, Jakey-poo. It’s good to know to ask for help when you need it,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. This only made Jake groan loudly and hide his face in his hands. You didn’t know Jake very well, but this flustered, red-faced side of him was definitely one you liked seeing.

The first thing that greeted you when you reached Jake’s house was a happy welcome home bark.

“You have a dog?!” you exclaimed, unable to reel your excitement in.

“Yeah! This is Layla,” Jake said, giving energetic rubs to the Border Collie that made her whole body shake side-to-side but that she seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

“Hi, Layla,” you cooed, crouching down to her level to let her sniff you. She decided you were a person worthy of petting her. “She’s so cute!”

“I think she likes you,” Jake said, a grin on his face, as he watched Layla presenting her belly to you and asking for scratches there. “Do you have a dog?”

“We have a Corgi at home. And a cat, too.”

“That must be fun,” Jake chuckled. “Do they get along?”

“Depends. They have a bit of a love-hate relationship.” You looked up at Jake, and it was uncharacteristically quiet as you locked eyes for a couple of seconds. You both looked away at the same time, surprised by the sudden eye contact.

You gave Layla one last rub and lifted yourself up. “Um, should we get started?”

Jake paused for a second as if he’d forgotten what you were here for in the first place, then started nodding his head quickly. “Right, yeah. Let’s go to my room. Downstairs is just one big room and my mom will probably watch TV or make dinner or something, so it might be distracting…” he explained, lightly scratching the back of his neck. It seemed like he was embarrassed to be bringing you to his room, which you couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Okay, sounds good,” you said with a smile, hoping it’ll reassure him.

You followed him up to his room, ignoring his complaints as you lingered on the framed photos on the wall next to the stairs and giggled at his baby pictures.

“Do not look at those,” he said with a warning tone that didn’t scare you in the slightest. When you didn’t listen, he grabbed your hand that had been pointing at a photo of baby Jake in the bathtub and forced you to keep walking.

“Why?” you asked, a slight whine to your voice.

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing! I was an ugly baby.”

“What?! You were so cute!”

“Whatever. I’d rather study English than talk about this, and that’s saying something.”

When you looked at Jake, you were surprised to find that he actually seemed upset about this. You weren’t sure what was so wrong with looking at his baby pictures, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him mad, so you stayed quiet and continued your way to his room. Once there, although you were infinitely curious about all the posters, pictures, figurines, trophies, and other small tokens of Jake’s life, you didn’t ask him about any of them, just sat next to him at his desk and opened The Picture of Dorian Grey, the book you had both been studying in Ms Park’s class.

You’d agreed on spending forty-five minutes on English, have a small break, then spend forty-five minutes on Math. It wasn’t a lot, but you both had other homework and things outside of school you needed to do, so you’d decided to start out that way and see if it worked out.

You were glad to see how seriously Jake was taking this - he listened intently to what you said and asked questions when he didn’t understand something. You quickly figured out that what he didn’t like about English Literature was that the answers weren’t as straightforward or as logical as they were in math, and even worse, that multiple answers were possible depending on the reader’s interpretation.

“It just all feels like a guessing game,” he said, resting the side of his head on one of his palms. “How am I supposed to know what this dude meant? And if it can be analyzed in different ways, how can Ms Park tell me the way I understand it is wrong?”

“It’s all about the way you justify it,” you explained. “You can’t just say whatever. Ms Park will look out for how you use the text to support your answers.” You then went on to pick out a specific part of the book, asking Jake to analyze Dorian’s mindset in that scene.

“He sounds like he’s going insane,” Jake said flatly when he was done reading, getting a chuckle out of you.

“Exactly. How do you know that?”

“I don’t know, just the words he uses,” Jake replies, shrugging.

“Okay, underline those words,” you instructed gently. Jake sighed, but he complied.

“There.”

“Good. What can you say about those words?” When Jake just looked at you like a lost puppy, you reformulated your question. “What do they have in common? What type of words are they? Are they common nouns, verbs…”

Jake looked back at the words he’d underlined on the page. “They’re… adjectives?” he said, tone unsure.

“Exactly!”

Jake paused. “So?”

“So now you can say that the author uses many adjectives to convey the gradual loss of sanity of the main character.”

“Oh.”

When you looked at Jake, he wore an expression like the words on the page were finally starting to make sense to him. “That’s the content. You can also look at the structure. See how many punctuation marks there are? Commas, semi-colons, question marks… It’s like he keeps cutting himself off. His thoughts are all over the place.”

Jake nodded slowly. “So, I just need to look out for things like that?”

“Basically, yeah. And the more you practice, the more these things will stand out to you. It actually becomes somewhat repetitive sometimes.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “That’s actually relieving to hear,” he said with a chuckle.

Thirty minutes passed by like this as you showed Jake ways to make sense of a literary text. When the timer rang, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out wide with a sigh. He put his hands behind his head and let it hang back, and the way your stomach flipped at the sight of his exposed neck and Adam’s apple made you look away immediately. You could barely meet his eyes as he turned his head to look at you, still in that same position, and, with a smirk, asked if you were ready for some snacks.

You gulped, trying to look as normal as possible. “Uh, yeah, sure!”

Downstairs, Jake presented you with all sorts of snacks - there were so many, you felt like you were in a convenience store. This was worlds away from your ingredient-only household. You opted for some biscuits and a banana while Jake made himself a bowl of cereal. A very distracting ten-minute long argument then ensued about the order of milk and cereal - horrifyingly, Jake poured his milk before his cereal. You thought it was a myth that some people actually did it that way, but Jake very proudly defended his choice.

“I bet you eat pizza with pineapple on it, too,” you said half-jokingly, only for your joke to punch you right back in the face.

“Duh,” Jake answered.

You could only shake your head in defeat. “Let’s just get back to studying before I murder you.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jake said, laughing. “That’s harsh.”

“And you’re a freak,” you retorted, a grin blooming on your lips.

“You know, you remind me of my friend Jay,” Jake mused as you walked back up the stairs. “He has so many of these small battles that he just won’t let go of. He got super worked up over an argument about mint chocolate chip ice cream once.”

“Let me guess, you like that ice cream?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not my favorite, but I’ll have it once in a while.”

“God, Sim, you just get worse and worse.”

You sat back down at his desk and started eating. “I bet you think I’m weird for liking math too, right?”

“That’s the worst offense of them all.”

Jake’s sudden quietness caught you off guard. When you turned your head to look at him, he was already gazing at you with a smile and a sort of thoughtful glint to his eyes, resting his chin on his palm. It sounded like he was thinking out loud when he spoke next. “Guess we’re perfect opposites of each other. Like two peas in a pod!”

The realization of what he’d said dawned upon him as soon as the words left his mouth. He slowly lifted his head as his eyes widened. “I don’t mean- just, you know, since you’re good at English and I’m good at math, and- you know… I didn’t mean it in a weird way, or anything…”

His eyes kept glancing back and forth between you and his bowl of cereal, as if he was scared of looking directly at you but wanted to check your reaction.

As a smile grew on your face, you kept your eyes trained on your biscuits so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression. But when you looked at him again, he held your gaze, mouth slightly agape. You didn’t have it in you that he had gotten the idiom completely wrong. “I know, don’t worry.” You chuckled. “We are opposites of each other. You just better be as good at teaching math as I am at teaching English,” you teased.

You watched as a smirk tugged one corner of Jake’s lips up and he raised an eyebrow. “Who said you were good at teaching English?”

You gasped. “You said you understood better now!”

Jake’s smile softened as he giggled. “I’m just teasing. You are a good teacher.”

You sat up straighter at the compliment, a proud smile on your face. “Your turn, Mr Sim. I’m all ears.”

“Right,” he said, mirroring your posture. “Shall we start by going over Mr Choi’s test from last week?”

Your smile dropped instantly at this. Reluctantly, you fished your graded paper out of your bag. You already knew Mr Choi was a psychopath, but you still didn’t understand where he found the will to grade thirty papers over the weekend. You avoided Jake’s gaze as you handed him your test with a big, red, circled D- at the top.

You cringed as Jake sighed. “At least it’s not an F, right?” he said in what you could tell was an attempt at reassurance but somehow only made you feel worse. He looked over your answers quickly, trying to find what in particular you struggled with. “All right. Let’s start from the beginning, yeah?”

For the next forty-five minutes, Jake went over each test question with you, breaking them down and explaining how to solve them in a way you understood. The words he used were so much clearer than the half-assed explanations you were used to from Mr Choi, and for once, math actually made some sort of sense. Your brain still felt broken after almost an hour of numbers and greek letters, but at least, you felt smarter rather than dumber at the end of it. You had never been more grateful for the sound of a phone alarm than the one signaling tutoring was over.

“That wasn’t half-bad, right?” Jake asked with a wide grin.

You felt so tired, you could probably pass out right then and there, but Jake looked so proud of himself after you had been able to complete an exercise correctly on your own that you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. “Right,” you replied, mirroring his grin. “You’re an okay teacher, I guess.”

He jokingly glared and tutted at you, but you both laughed right after. “I need to walk Layla, so I can walk you home, if you want?” he offered as you started packing your things. His words had an uncertain tone to them, as if he wasn’t sure you’d still want to spend time with him after this - but it only took you a second of thinking to realize you’d rather continue hanging out with him than going home on your own.

“Sure! I need to walk Kiwi too, actually.”

“Your dog’s name is Kiwi?!”

“Yes,” you said, chuckling at his fascinated tone.

“That’s an adorable name.”

“Thanks, I chose it.”

“Oh, then I take it back. Worst name I’ve ever heard for a dog.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, lightly hitting him on the head with your math notebook, making him raise a hand in self-defense as he laughed.

“Sorry, sorry. Does your cat also have a fruit name?”

A pause. “Mango,” you mumbled, and he immediately burst into laughter again. You side-eyed him as you zipped up your bag.

“Wow, you have amazing taste in pet names, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing along. Then you realized something, and you suddenly stopped laughing, looking up at Jake with wide eyes that made him slightly start to panic. “Oh my God, Jake, are our dogs going to meet?”

“Our dogs are going to meet,” he echoed in a sort of fascinated whisper. You both understood the other - dogs becoming friends was the cutest thing ever.

“Let’s go,” you whispered back excitedly.

When you reached the living room downstairs, you bid Mrs Sim goodbye, then went to the entrance to put your shoes back on. “You two sure get along well,” you heard her say to her son with a suggestive tone. Even though she had dropped the volume of her voice, the door was wide open and there were only a few meters between you, so you’d heard her loud and clear.

“Geez, Mom,” Jake groaned, seemingly irked by his mom’s insinuation.

“It’s just you’ve never brought a girl home, Jakey-”

“Okay, we’re leaving now! Layla, come!”

You hadn’t even realized how wide you were grinning until Jake saw you tying your shoelaces and grumbled “What are you smiling so hard for.”

“Nothing,” you giggled, and your smile grew as you watched a grin break through his pretend-upset expression.

You sighed contentedly as you stepped outside, letting the crisp early April air hit your face. You tightened your scarf around your neck and buried your hands in your pocket and you and Jake started walking side by side, Layla happily leading the way. The streets were fairly quiet at this time of day, save for the yells of children still playing in their backyards before dinner and a few cars of people coming home late from work.

Only the first five seconds of the walk were silent, until you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. “So, never brought a girl home, huh?” you asked with a teasing smirk.

Jake let out an offended scoff and looked up to the sky as if God could help him out of this one. Sadly, He didn’t, so Jake had to find an answer himself. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why not?”

Pouting, Jake spared you a sideway glance. “Because you’re a girl,” he replied, voice lowered to a mumble.

You chuckled at this. “Very astute observation, Jake.”

“No, I- Ugh,” he groaned before laughing along with you. “I don’t need a girl to know how bad I am with- well, with girls.”

“I can help with that,” you said before you really thought about it. “I mean, I’m not a love expert by any means, but I can maybe give, I don’t know, pointers or something if there’s someone you like-”

“There’s no one I like,” Jake quickly cut in. “Um, not right now, at least.”

“O-okay,” you replied, nodding. “That’s fine.”

“What about you? Do you like anyone?”

As Jake asked the question, he realized he already knew the answer - you liked Sunghoon. How could he forget?! Half of his plan had been to make you get closer to his friend, but he hadn’t even started thinking about that yet. In his defense, he’d come up with that plan three days ago.

Your answer surprised him. “Um, no, me neither. Not right now, at least,” you said, repeating his words with a smile on your face. You locked eyes for a second before looking away at the same time, chuckling.

“Right,” he said. He knew what he had read in your diary, so maybe you were just too shy to admit you had a crush on his friend of all people.

An unexpected awkwardness settled between the two of you, and you more than anything wanted it to go away. Even though it’d only been a few days since you and Jake had started getting to know each other, you already felt comfortable enough to be yourself around him, and it usually took you weeks before reaching that level with anyone. This hadn’t happened since you met Yena and Hyewon at the beginning of high school - they had been friends since middle school, and so had you and Chaewon, and when the four of you met, you had instant chemistry. But maybe it was slightly too early to start talking about crushes with Jake.

For once, you were the one to break the silence - you asked him whether he knew what he wanted to do after school. Basic question, but you were genuinely curious.

Looking a little bashful, he confessed his dream had always been to be a math teacher and soccer coach at a middle or high school. You told him he already had the talent for it, and when he blushed at your words, you made sure to tease him for it.

“I’m not sure yet,” you said when he returned the question. “I know I wanna go to college and continue doing English Lit and theater there, but that’s about it.”

“That’s already good enough,” Jake said with a smile. “Still got time to figure out what comes after, right?”

You naturally mirrored his smile - there was something contagious about Jake’s puppyish grin that made it hard not to smile yourself. “Right.”

The three of you reached your house quickly after that. Your mom still hadn’t come home from work, so Kiwi was even more excited than usual for your arrival home. You and Jake watched fondly as your dogs sniffed each other for a few seconds before starting to run around together. The fact that they got along made you really happy, perhaps unreasonably so, and you started bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you watched them play. “Our dogs are friends!” you exclaimed excitedly.

When you turned to look at Jake, he wasn’t watching the dogs like you had been - he was gazing straight at you, eyes soft with something that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t look away, and it was only after a few seconds that he seemed to snap out of the sort of daze he was in. He cleared his throat and you finally tore your eyes away from him.

“Let me just- Kiwi! I need to put his leash around him,” you said, speaking quickly to dissipate the weird atmosphere as best as you could. You led Jake down the path you usually took with Kiwi that led to a park in your neighborhood, and you were relieved when normal conversation started again.

Jake insisted on walking you back to your house even though he had left his earlier. He made a whole show of not going until you’d walked inside and closed the door, so you’d rushed to your window to shout his name and wave goodbye at him, which made him laugh.

You turned back to Kiwi when Jake and Layla had turned a corner and you couldn’t watch them anymore. “Are you happy you made a new friend, Kiwi?”

The Corgi barked happily at you in response - probably more at hearing his name than because he understood your question, but still, you liked to think you could communicate with your dog on such a level. You chuckled and took him in your arms. “Me too.”

—

Apparently, you couldn’t even wave to someone in the hallway without being interrogated about it anymore.

“Y/N, did you just say hi to Jake Sim?” Chaewon asked like you’d just insulted her whole family.

It was 10 a.m. on a simple Tuesday morning, the day after Jake and you had studied together for the first time, and you’d just walked past the boy - so of course, you said hi to him. Maybe, your heart started beating slightly faster when you’d noticed him approaching. Maybe, it was nice to be on the receiving end of his friendly grin.

“Yes?” you replied, sentence coming out more like a question.

“Since when do you say hi to Jake Sim?!”

“Since today, I guess.”

“But why?!” She’d raised her voice so much, you’d gotten strange looks from other students in the hallway.

“I told you!”

She shook her head slowly at you as if to say, No you didn’t!

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Chaewon and her early onset short-term memory loss. “The backpack thing? And agreeing to tutoring each other? I wrote to the group chat about this!”

“Oh, that! Of course I remember that,” she said, even though you knew she had forgotten about it and remembered it just now. “So, has that started already?”

You reached the classroom for your next class and sat down in your usual seats next to each other, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Busy hallways like these were the perfect place for gossip, because they were loud and nobody paid attention to others’ conversations. “Yeah, yesterday afternoon.”

Chaewon gasped. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“Will you quiet down? I was going to see and tell you guys today anyway.”

“Okay, so, tell me about it.”

“But-”

“Tell. Me.”

You wouldn’t see Yena and Hyewon until lunch in two hours, and you knew Chaewon didn’t have the patience to wait until then. So you sighed again and obliged, telling her about your afternoon with Jake in every detail you could remember, because she would ask about insignificant things anyway.

To your surprise, the first thing she said when you were done talking was this: “Y/N, do you like Jake?”

Your mouth opened slightly in shock at the question, but before you could even retort, you started giggling. “No, I don’t,” you said in a way that sounded like you very much did.

“Oh my God! You so do!” Chaewon said, giggling along with you. “You whore, you’ve only talked to him, like, twice,” she joked.

You gasped fake-dramatically and slapped her arm. “Oh please, look at Hyewon and Jaemin, they started dating after a week of talking.”

“Yes, and they’ve been going one year strong, so clearly, you need to ask Jake out and get this over with. You’ll get a boyfriend and a math tutor all-in-one, it’s a perfect deal!”

“Don’t get too carried away, okay? Jake and I are friends. Like you said, we barely know each other right now.”

You meant this - sure, you had had a really good time with Jake both times you saw him, and you were looking forward to your next tutoring session, but you chalked it up to the excitement of making a new friend. Plus, barely last week you felt some sort of way towards his best friend - wouldn’t it be weird to practically transfer your feelings from Sunghoon to Jake?

“Whatever. Yena and Hyewon are gonna freak when I tell them,” Chaewon said excitedly.

You shook your head at your friend but couldn’t keep down the amused grin on your face. “You guys are insane.”

“Oh please, like you’re not the president of our Park Sunghoon fanclub. I can’t believe you’re leaving us for his best friend!”

“Hey, if anything, less competition for you, right?”

Chaewon opened her mouth to say something, but the teacher arrived, starting the lesson before having even put her bag down - Mrs Lee always arrived late but never wasted a second of class when she was in the room. Your friend resorted to sticking her tongue out at you instead, and you chuckled at her childishness as you opened your History notebook.

—

Jake was a complete, total, utter idiot. His plan had consisted of two things only, and he’d somehow managed to forget one of them, even after talking about it with you, albeit vaguely. It had taken him two weeks and one Park Sunghoon to even remember it.

Between Jake’s soccer practice, Sunghoon’s ice skating practice and Jay’s being away at boarding school, the three friends only had one night every week on which they were all free - Friday night. So, every Friday, they planned some sort of hang out at one of their houses and gamed or watched movies all night.

Kinda like date night, but for bros.

This was one of those bro nights; namely, the one in the second week of you and Jake tutoring each other. The boys had decided to go to the burger joint they like that night and were in the middle of a french fry fight when Sunghoon mentioned your and Jake’s new friendship.

“So, Jake… what’s up with you and Y/N?”

Jake halted in his motions, redirecting to his mouth the fry he was about to throw at Jay. “Nothing’s up with me and Y/N. What makes you say that?”

“Just, you know, you seem like you’ve become actual friends. Talking in the hallways and walking your dogs together and whatnot.”

“Y/N as in Y/N? Sunghoon’s Y/N?” Jay said, halfway through a bite of his cheeseburger.

“She’s not my Y/N-”

“Yes, Y/N as in Y/N, you idiot,” Jake cut in. “And like you said, we’re friends.”

“Is she the girl you posted some BeReals with?” Jay asked, and Jake nodded. “She’s pretty! No wonder Sunghoon likes her so much.”

Sunghoon sighed as he let his head hang low. “God forbid I find a girl cute, because I’ll mention it once, two years ago and you guys make me out to be in love with her.”

“Sunghoon, you act like girls don’t exist, so of course when you not only mention a girl, but describe her as cute, that means you’re in love with her!”

“But I’m not! We were literally having a whole conversation about girls, I happened to see Y/N and her friends from far away, I said she was cute, and now you guys won’t let me live it down. Jay, you weren’t even there!”

“Yeah, but the way Jake told me about the whole thing, it really sounded like you liked her.”

“Why would you trust Jake to relay something like this correctly?!”

Jay paused and tilted his head. “You have a point there.”

“Hey!”

“So you don’t, like… like her, or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at his friend as he sipped on his Pepsi.

This made Jake stop. Did he like you? Wasn’t the fact that he was considering it sign enough? Surely, if there was nothing there, he would have answered no right away.

But there was no use thinking about it. You liked Sunghoon. And as much as he liked to deny it, Jake knew Sunghoon liked you, too. After two years, there was finally an opportunity for the two of you to get closer - Jake wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. If anything, he should help his friends out. Then, when you and Sunghoon eventually got married, Jake would have the honor of saying it was all thanks to him in his best man’s speech.

“No, I don’t. Don’t worry, Hoon, I’m not gonna steal your girl away from you.”

“Again, she’s not my girl-”

“Whatever you say. I’ll introduce you guys.”

Even if Sunghoon didn’t think he liked you yet, Jake knew it was just a matter of time - his friend just needed to spend a few hours with you to realize he did. You were pretty, smart, funny, nice, had the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, got along with dogs, and even though you sometimes had weird opinions, it was always fun, talking to you. It was easy and comfortable. Anyone with taste would fall for you.

Anyone, except for Jake, of course.

—

For the past three weeks, you and Jake had gotten along perfectly, but today, on this bright Tuesday afternoon, you really wanted to strangle him.

When he’d invited you to come and watch him at soccer practice, you’d been surprised, but happy - usually, you invited people to watch an actual game, not just practice. But you were just glad for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

Without realizing it, you were giddy with excitement the whole day, counting down the minutes until classes were over and Jake’s practice started. Jake had told you to just head to the bleachers while the players got ready in the locker room, but when you reached said bleachers, someone was already sitting there, looking at something on their phone. You recognized him immediately as Sunghoon. He didn’t notice you right away, so you had time to wipe the surprise off of your face - you hadn’t thought anyone came to watch practice, but Sunghoon was probably here for Jake, just like you.

“Hey,” you said quietly as you sat down next to him. Even though you were technically still on school property, this was the first time you saw Sunghoon outside of somewhere like a classroom, a hallway or the cafeteria. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be, seeing him unexpectedly like this.

You chuckled when Sunghoon started at your sudden arrival. “Oh, hey, Y/N,” he said, chuckling too, albeit somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t hear you coming.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile as you sat down next to him on the bleachers. You didn’t know what sort of distance was appropriate between you two, if you should sit close or far, but you stopped yourself before you could overthink something as trivial as that. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds and you wished practice had started before you got here, so that you’d have something to look at other than an empty field.

You broke the silence before it became too uncomfortable. “So, do you come watch Jake often?”

You’d been fiddling with your hands as you spoke, only turning your head to look at Sunghoon as you awaited his answer. Your eyes didn’t even meet for a fraction of a second before he whipped his head to look at the field, as if unable to look at you and talk at the same time. At least he had a nice side profile for you to look at.

“Um, just on Tuesdays. I have ice skating practice after this, so I come here first, then he comes with me to the rink,” he replied. He glanced at you, lips pressed into a thin line that somewhat resembled a smile and that pushed dimples into his cheeks. You simply hummed in response.

“What about you, how come you’re here?”

“Jake asked me,” you replied. Sunghoon let out a long “oh” as he nodded, turning his head back towards the field again. You didn’t think you’d ever had such a slow conversation. It was like you and Sunghoon both repeated your words ten times over in your heads before saying them out loud.

“Are you coming to my practice, too?” he asked after another pause.

The question took you aback slightly as you hadn’t even considered it, but it could be fun, seeing Sunghoon practice ice skating. It’d also be fun to hang out with Jake. “If it’s fine with you, then yeah, why not,” you replied, smiling at Sunghoon. He glanced at you again before looking away with a smile, an actual one this time that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah, sure. People usually only come to actual shows, so I like it when someone’s there to watch practice.” Before you could find something to say, the players arrived jogging onto the field, immediately starting their warm-up laps. Some were serious about it and stayed focused as they ran, while others goofed around, running backwards and slapping other players on their butts before sprinting away. Jake, of course, was part of the latter group.

Now that something was actually happening on the field, you and Sunghoon had an excuse not to make conversation anymore. You tried to ignore it, but it was so awkward you wanted to die. You realized now why you were so attracted to people like Jake and Chaewon - without even being aware of it, they brought you out of your shell and made you feel at ease. You wished you could do that on your own, but you were always too scared, so you needed that person who was confident enough showing themselves to you first to make you feel comfortable doing the same. You and Sunghoon, unfortunately, were too similar in that sense to do that for each other. So you just sat there in silence, observing Jake and waving back at him when he caught your gazes.

The ninety minutes of practice didn’t go by in total silence - you asked Sunghoon about some soccer rules you didn’t get, and he shared some anecdotes from his and Jake’s earlier teenage years, including a very entertaining story about a tantrum 9-year-old Jake had thrown when he hadn’t agreed with the red card the referee had given him. You weren’t sure how the topic came up, but at some point, you even shared pictures of your pets. Sunghoon had one of those small crusty white dogs, but you kept your laughter in and cooed over how cute she was.

But still, most of the time, you were watching Jake. You had never been interested in soccer or any sort of sport that involved balls until now. Somehow, he managed to make flushed cheeks, a heaving chest and hairline beaded with sweat look glorious. In total honesty, you were paying more attention to the player himself than to the sport, to the point that you barely noticed when he scored a goal during their practice match. It was only when Jake started cheering and high-fiving his teammates that you realized what had happened, and you gave him two thumbs up and a wide grin when he looked your and Sunghoon’s way, proudly shouting “Did you see that?!”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks right there and then. The way your heart swelled as you watched his excited, puppyish grin take over his features was undeniable - you liked Jake. You like liked him. Your gaze continued to follow him as he finished his celebratory lap. If you could’ve seen yourself right then, you’d probably have been embarrassed by your awestruck expression and slightly agape mouth, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Much to your dismay, you realized that Chaewon had seen right through you. You hadn’t wanted to read too much into your feelings, but they had become too obvious to ignore. You hadn’t experienced them yourself since middle school (Choi Soobin had really been a heartbreaker back then), but you’d heard about the telltale signs of a crush too many times not to know about them. It was now clear that the way you felt about Jake and the way you had felt about Sunghoon were worlds apart. Feeling nervous around him and your heart skipping a beat when you made eye contact; wanting to see him smile; laughing at all his jokes, even the bad ones; missing him even though it’d been seconds since you said goodbye, and counting down the days until you saw him again. And, yes, looking at his pictures on social media over and over again. You did all those things, so you knew there was no point in lying to yourself anymore - you liked Jake Sim.

It didn’t help that he was always kind to you, never making you feel stupid for not understanding something in your tutoring sessions and being patient enough to explain the same thing over and over again. He always paid attention to small things, which never failed to make your heart race, like asking after your aging cat’s condition after you’d told him he had a health check-up over the weekend or stocking up on your favorite snack the week after you’d told him about it. He’d also immediately picked up on your habit of teasing the people you felt comfortable with and you loved how he returned it tenfold. It was as much fun debating with him over nothing and making him shut up with your senseless arguments as it was being rendered speechless when he came up with the perfect retort.

And of course, there was no denying that Jake was ridiculously attractive. There were times you got so caught up in the way his lips moved as he spoke or the way his fingers looked as he pointed at numbers on the page that your mind completely blanked out and you stopped listening to his words for a few seconds. You didn’t know what to make of his small chuckle and smirk when he noticed your gaze fixated on him, but you knew it wasn’t good for your heart. And let’s not even get started on the fact that sitting so close to him meant you could smell the lingering scent of his cologne every single time.

Even now, with flushed cheeks and hair slicked back with sweat, you want to run onto the field and give him a big smooch on his cheek, telling him you were proud of him for scoring that goal.

But even though you were getting closer and he had offered for you to come watch his practice, you squashed down as best as you could any hope that he might feel the same way about you. Even if he insisted he was bad with girls, Jake was popular at school, and you were sure there were many other girls who had a crush on him - so why would he like you of all people?

Sunghoon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Every time he scores, he acts like it’s the first time he’s ever done it,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head at his friend’s over-dramatic antics. The coach was trying to get Jake to calm down so that the game could resume.

“He’s so cute,” you said, voice quiet, before you could stop yourself. But as soon as the words were out, you realized what you’d done, and your eyes doubled in size as you turned to look at Sunghoon. He had whipped his head to look at you, too, and his eyes were just as big as yours. Then, he burst into laughter, and you hoped the Earth would suddenly open beneath your feet and swallow you whole.

When his surprise had subsided, Sunghoon turned to you again, an incredulous but amused glint in his eyes. “Did you just call Jake cute?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, slightly frowning as you avoided Sunghoon’s gaze. “I just meant, you know, it’s cute how excited he got. I didn’t say he was cute,” you mumbled, knowing you were doing a poor job of defending yourself.

“That’s exactly what you said, though. You said, and I quote, He’s so cute.” You glared at Sunghoon. Who knew he would only become talkative once it came to teasing you about Jake?

His expression softened slightly when he realized you might actually be upset about this, and he turned his attention back towards the field, smile growing when he found his friend. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“There’s nothing to be said anyway.”

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I tell Jake that you have the biggest, fattest crush on- hmph!”

You’d cut Sunghoon off by pressing your palm to his mouth, mustering the most menacing look you could to scare him off. “I do not,” you said firmly as you moved your hand away from him.

“Sure, you don’t,” he replied, chuckling. Clearly, your most menacing look wasn’t so menacing.

“I get why Jake’s so annoying now, it’s because he’s friends with you.”

Sunghoon raised an amused eyebrow at this. “He might be annoying, but he’s also cute, right?”

“Shut up!” you shrieked immediately, but you couldn’t stop the grin forcing its way onto your lips.

“Just saying,” Sunghoon said, and you laughed together. Maybe you should’ve been more worried about Jake’s literal best friend finding out you had a crush on him, but you somehow trusted Sunghoon not to blabber about it. Whether because he was nice or because he wanted to watch you struggle with your feelings, you weren’t sure, but at least you felt your secret was safe with him.

You looked back at the field, and just as your eyes found Jake, you saw him turn his head away. Had you seen him just seconds prior, you might have noticed the crease in his eyebrows as he watched you and Sunghoon laugh together. Sunghoon isn’t that funny, he thought, what could you be laughing so hard about?

He didn’t understand the sudden weight in his heart at the sight of you and his friend getting along so well. This was his whole plan after all - force some proximity between you and Sunghoon so that you could talk and hopefully make your feelings clear to each other after some time. Clearly, it was working. So why was it bothering him so much?

He had to turn his attention back to the game, so he could only ruminate over it for five seconds, but for the remaining thirty minutes, he could barely focus on anything. Whenever he glanced back at you and Sunghoon, you were both looking at him and not talking to each other, and that somehow bothered him even more.

He used his time in the lockers to get out of the weird mood he was in - whatever was going on between you and Sunghoon, he didn’t want to ruin it by being grumpy. So when he came back out and found the two of you waiting for him at the bus stop, he put on his best smile.

Having you around made his usual Tuesday afternoon with Sunghoon more fun - after years of friendship, Sunghoon ignored most of his jokes and could tune the sound of his voice out, but you still laughed at everything he said, and his heart swelled with pride every time he made you laugh.

It was only a ten-minute bus ride from the school to the ice rink so you still had twenty minutes to spare before Sunghoon’s lesson started. As always after soccer practice, Jake was famished, so you stopped by a convenience store and got more snacks than you really needed.

You sat next to Sunghoon and across from Jake at a picnic table in front of the ice rink, watching the boy in front of you with fascination as he gorged himself on banana milk and chocolate snacks.

“God, how long has it been since you last ate?” you asked with genuine concern in your voice. Sunghoon followed your gaze towards Jake, only then noticing his friend’s feral behavior as if this was a normal occurrence for them.

“Like three hours,” Jake answered. “I’m starving. So hungry I could eat Sunghoon.”

When he looked up, you were both peering at him with furrowed eyebrows and bewildered expressions on your faces. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you mean that Sunghoon is a horse?” you asked.

Jake mirrored your confused expressions. “What? No, why would I say that?”

“The saying goes, so hungry I could eat a horse, dumbass,” Sunghoon chimed in.

“Why would I eat a horse?” Jake replied, shaking his head and chuckling at you and Sunghoon like you were the ones who had gotten a basic idiom wrong.

“Why would you eat me?” Sunghoon bit back, sounding almost offended.

“It’s just a saying, dude.”

Half-an-hour and two whole packets of biscuits later, you and Jake sat side-by-side on the benches, watching Sunghoon as he did his warm-ups on the ice. This was your first time seeing a professional ice skater and you were transfixed, to say the least. He was just skating across the rink and rolling his arms and neck to get the muscles moving, but it all seemed so effortless and elegant that you couldn’t help but watch with your mouth slightly open, eyes eager to keep up with Sunghoon’s figure.

You were so mesmerized that you had no idea Jake was practically burning holes into the side of your face. Eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in disgust, he couldn’t believe you were enjoying the show in front of you that much. “He’s not even doing anything special right now, you know,” he said, but it only made him realize that when Sunghoon did start doing cool stuff, you’d like it even more.

Your head barely budged in Jake’s direction as you answered him, and your eyes certainly didn’t leave Sunghoon. “Really? It already looks so cool, though.” Jake scoffed, but that still didn’t get your attention, which made him scoff again. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned like a child whose parent wasn’t paying attention to their drawing.

“Cooler than me?”

Finally, you look at me, Jake thought, and his frown immediately dissipated into a grin when your eyes met. But judging by the teasing way your lips curled up, he already knew he wasn’t going to like your answer.

“Cooler than you,” you replied before turning your attention back to the rink.

Jake leans back with a pout, opting to glare at his friend instead of you. He tried to put himself in your shoes and figure out what it was about Sunghoon you liked so much that Jake didn’t also have. Devastatingly good looks? Check. Charming smile? Check. Cute dog? Check - Jake more so than Sunghoon. Brains? Okay, both of them lacked this. Good personality? Check - however, you needed months before Sunghoon revealed himself to you, whereas Jake was outgoing and was comfortable even with people he’d just met.

So why was the bearer of your affection Sunghoon and not Jake?

And why did Jake even care that you liked his friend over him in the first place?

It wasn’t like Jake liked you - he couldn’t like a girl that his best friend liked - so why did this at all matter to him? If anything, the fact that you liked Sunghoon back should’ve been something to rejoice over. It had been, up until now, and Jake couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t figure out this weird sensation that had plagued him in the soccer field and followed him to the ice rink as he watched you watch Sunghoon with amazement.

Jake was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when you detached your eyes from Sunghoon, who was talking to his coach, and tilted your head at him. “Jake?”

The boy only let out a low hum, still too upset to look at you.

An amused grin made your lips quirk up. “Are you pouting because I said Sunghoon was cooler than you?”

Jake scoffed, turning his head away from you. “No.”

A pause. “So you don’t mind if I go on and on about how elegant and beautiful ice skating is, while running after a ball and kicking it is the basis of the stupidest sport in the world?”

Jake glared at you, but it only made you smile more. “It’s not stupid.”

Despite himself, his pretend angry facade broke apart at the sound of your airy giggles. Jake didn’t think his ears had ever been graced with such a pretty sound before - he slapped himself mentally as soon as that thought crossed his mind.

His heart did jumps and spins more impressive than Sunghoon’s when you reached a hand out to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at his behavior. For once, he was glad that you turned back to Sunghoon so that you wouldn’t see the bright blush spreading all over his face.

For the next hour, Jake put his weird feelings to the side and watched his friend practice his routine for his upcoming competition. Even he had to admit that Sunghoon looked pretty cool doing what he loved.

You told him you found it all the more impressive because you’d never skated before, so it looked unachievable to you, and an idea immediately formed in Jake’s mind. As soon as Sunghoon’s practice was over, he rushed over to his friend and asked if the two of you could join him on the ice. Sunghoon turned to his coach, who simply shrugged.

“I trust you to look after them,” she said. “Just make sure to be out when the hockey team gets here.”

Before you knew it, Jake was helping you tie up your ice skates (the sight of which made you faint-hearted) and both boys helped you onto the ice rink, each holding onto one of your hands as you tried not to freak out at the feeling of your knees being so wobbly. Sunghoon demonstrated how to move around the ice, and soon enough, you’d gotten the hang of it - but you still made sure to keep Jake at an arm’s length so you could grab onto him every time you lost your balance. Jake stayed by your side, smiling fondly at how excited you looked and cheering you on every time you took a step of your own. Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to find it funny to watch from afar and point and laugh every time you stumbled.

After some time, Sunghoon announced he was feeling hungry and decided to go eat some snacks, leaving you and Jake alone in the rink. The wink Sunghoon threw your way when Jake wasn’t looking let you know what his true intentions were, and you couldn’t believe Jake’s best friend had just become your wingman.

“Feeling ready to skate around the rink?” Jake asked. His boyish grin was contagious, and you found yourself matching it even though you were still nervous about moving around too much.

“If you help me,” you answered tentatively, looking at him worriedly as you held out your hand for him to take. The softness of his gaze as he smiled down at you made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Of course,” he said, taking your hand in his warm one. Your fingers intertwined as if out of second nature and you thought you finally understood why people said their hands were meant to hold someone else’s.

Being friends with an ice skater for such a long time meant Jake had acquired some skill, too, which is why he could so easily show you how to turn or pick up speed. Whenever you lost your balance, he was always quick enough to make sure you didn’t actually fall, picking you up before your backside could touch the ice. He found your frightened expression every time you thought you would fall absolutely adorable, but your pout and slight frown whenever he teased you were somehow even cuter.

He only let go of your hand after some ten minutes (neither of you had even begun to question Sunghoon’s whereabouts by then) when he came to stand in front of you, a serious expression on his face.

“I think you’re ready, Y/N,” he declared solemnly.

“Ready for…?” you asked, scared of whatever he had in mind.

He leaned in slightly and the sudden proximity took you aback, but he didn’t seem to realize. A mischievous smirk broke through his handsome features. “A race,” he whispered, then skated to one edge of the rink and motioned for you to follow him. Reluctantly, you did.

“First to the other edge has to…” he thought for a second, gazing at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at him for proposing a race when you’d literally just learned how to skate, but how could you when he looked so cute and giddy, searching for the loser’s penalty? “Buy the other ice cream!”

Your eyes were probably the image of tenderness as you looked at him. “Deal,” you said, wanting to sound as playful as him but voice coming out soft. Since when had you fallen so hard for him?

You held each other’s gazes for a couple more seconds before both turning in front of you, getting ready for your race. Jake counted down from three, and your skating wasn’t so bad at first - until you got too cocky for your own good, trying to go at a pace you clearly couldn’t handle. Before you knew it, your knees betrayed you and you found yourself tripping over, your butt making a loud thump sound as it came into contact with the ice.

On your way down, you’d shrieked Jake’s name, and he was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding your shoulder and looking at you worriedly. The pain was immediate, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t answer him and reassure him that you were fine.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked to race, God Y/N I’m so stupid I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t want you to get hurt-”

“Jake,” you squeaked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay, calm down,” you said when the pain subsided, managing a smile. “I’ll just have a sore butt tomorrow.” He chuckled at the word ‘butt,’ but you didn’t have it in you to roll his eyes at his childishness.

“Are you sure you’re okay? There’s an infirmary here-”

“I’m sure, Jakey-poo,” you teased, making him lose the concerned expression as he bore an unimpressed one instead.

“I guess you are fine if you can think to call me that. Come on, up!” he said as he stood up, reaching his hands out for you to take. Just as he helped you up, Sunghoon came sprinting and stood at the entrance to the rink.

“Is everything okay? I heard a yell,” he said, slightly out-of-breath with half a biscuit in his mouth. Guess he really was eating this whole time.

You and Jake laughed and shook your head at him, and you reassured him that everything was fine.

“Good, ‘cause the hockey team’s here and we have to go anyway.”

There was a bus that took Sunghoon directly from the ice rink to his house, but you and Jake had to go back to the school to catch the one you usually took, which meant you had a forty-minute journey in front of you. And yet, Jake’s company made those forty minutes feel like five, and you found yourself disappointed when the bus neared your stop.

“If you want, we can still go walk Kiwi and Layla,” he offered shyly a few minutes before your stop, as if he’d read your mind.

“I’d love to.” You watched as his small smile bloomed into a wider one.

“I’m glad,” he chuckled, relieved. “I was scared you’d be tired of me after spending the whole afternoon together,” he admitted, looking down at his lap with a bashful expression on his face. It wasn’t often that Jake looked timid like this, but whenever he did, your heart tripled in size.

“I don’t think I could get tired of you.” You were too shy to look him in the eye while you said this, but in your peripheral, you saw his grin get impossibly wider and his eyebrows raise. He bumped your shoulder with his, making the both of you burst into giggles.

You were still smiling long after you’d come home from your walk.

—

Unfortunately for Jake, forcing you and Sunghoon to sit together for ninety minutes hadn’t resulted in the two of you confessing your undying love for the other and getting together - clearly, his plan hadn’t worked very well. But Jake, instead of coming up with another strategy, decided he should just basically do the same thing again and hope it went better this time.

Bro night had been a tradition for the past three years that the boys only very rarely broke, in cases of illness, filial obligations or important competitions the following day. This wasn’t any one of those cases, but Jake decided bro night must be slightly sacrificed that night - for your and Sunghoon’s sake. Years down the line, he knew you’d thank him.

This was why he tricked you into thinking you had been invited to bro night (you’d heard a lot about it and considered it an honor to be included) when really, he made Jay promise not to show at the cinema so that you and Sunghoon could be alone. The two of them would make up an excuse about not being able to make it on time and show up later at the diner (“If you want to set them up, shouldn’t we also leave them alone after the movie?” Jay had asked Jake over the phone, and Jake had been unable to explain why he didn’t want you to spend the whole night alone with Sunghoon).

“They ditched us,” Sunghoon had said in lieu of a greeting when you found him at the entrance of the cinema. He turned his phone screen towards you, showing you their group chat - Jay had had some sort of meeting at his school that had run late and Jake had to go to the vet suddenly because Layla kept making weird noises.

“Oh no, I hope she’ll be okay,” you said, voice laced with genuine worry.

Sunghoon just sighed. “I’m sure she will.” He knew what his friends were up to - it almost never happened that one of them was unable to make it to bro night, so two at once? They were clearly lying. He would make sure to tell Jake how worried sick you were about his dog’s fake illness later on just so his friend would feel extra guilty.

You had been looking forward to hanging out with Jake and his friends all day, so you were disappointed to know he wouldn’t make it until later. It wasn’t much comfort that the movie they had picked, some recent Marvel release, was one you were not at all interested in, and you couldn’t even obsess over Jake’s presence next to you instead of the movie because he wasn’t there. You’d have to sit with awkward, quiet Sunghoon for God knows how long - at least the cinema wasn’t much of a talking place.

You declined his kind offer of sharing a big popcorn tub - you didn’t want to risk a cliché reaching-for-popcorn-at-the-same-time moment with Sunghoon, although you’d daydreamed and giggled about it happening with Jake earlier that day. Instead, you sipped grumpily on your Cherry Coke, watching the trailers for upcoming movies and discussing them with Sunghoon. (“I’m so excited for the Barbie movie,” he’d surprised you by saying. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.)

As the lights dimmed, announcing the imminent start of the movie, Sunghoon whispered something that completely changed your mind about Marvel. “It’s so stupid that Jake isn’t here, seriously. He’s been going on and on about going to see this movie since the trailer came out.” Suddenly, you’d never felt the need to pay attention to something more than this.

Well, in your humble opinion, the film wasn’t anything to write home about. It was a lot of loud action scenes with some funny one-liners that, okay, you chuckled at. And the actors were hot. You could sort of see why Jake would enjoy Marvel movies, although you yourself liked films with more social commentary, such as Mean Girls or Bee Movie. You’d need to make Jake watch Twilight one of these days - you were sure he’d like the soundtrack, if nothing else.

At least, you and Sunghoon have something to talk about during your short walk to the diner. As you enter the restaurant, a familiar voice calling out your name catches you off-guard.

“Chaewon? I thought you didn’t work on Friday nights!” you exclaimed, letting your friend bring you into a hug. You gave her a once-over - she always looked so pretty in her work uniform, white t-shirt dress draping her body perfectly, apron cinching at her waist, and short pigtails under her 50’s style diner hat. If the blush spreading on Sunghoon’s cheeks at her sudden appearance was anything to go by, his thoughts might not have been too far from yours.

She pouted, taking your hands in hers and swaying them between the two of you. “I usually don’t, but Yunjin asked me to trade shifts and she always says yes when I ask her, so I felt bad saying no.” You nodded and she turned to Sunghoon.

“Hi, Sunghoon!”

“H-hi, Chaewon.”

“Where’s Jay and Jake?” she asked, looking behind the two of you. You’d told the group chat about your evening plans and a lot of freaking out had taken place.

“Should be here any minute,” you sighed, and when she looked at you questioningly, you told her you’d explain later.

She sat you at a four-person booth by the window and brought you drinks (“On the house,” she’d said with a wink, but you weren’t sure this had been allowed by any of her superiors) for you to sip on while you waited for the others. Every time she was free, she came over to your table and gossiped about the customers. You did not miss the way Sunghoon’s face lit up whenever she approached you.

Jake and Jay see you before you see them. Jay, the only one with a driver’s license out of the three, had picked Jake up, and he was parking his car when Jake gasped loudly, making Jay jump. “I’m trying to park, man, can you be calm?”

“What’s she doing here?” Jake exclaimed, completely ignoring his friend.

Jay followed Jake’s gaze, but he wasn’t sure what his friend was going on about. All he saw was you, whom he recognized from pictures only, Sunghoon, and a waitress that seemed overly-friendly. “Who?” he asked.

“Chaewon,” Jake hissed, like her name was a curse. “She’s ruining our plan!”

Jay sighed. “First of all, this is your plan. Second of all, it was ruined from the beginning. And by that, I mean that your plan sucks, Jake.”

Jake clicked his teeth. “Whatever. Let’s just go,” he said, getting out of the car and heading straight for you. He made sure to give Chaewon a pointed look as he sat next to you in the booth, but she just seemed happy that more people had arrived.

You bumped your knee into his to get his attention. “Hi,” you said with a smile.

He looked at you dumbly for a few seconds before Jay cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hi. This is Jay,” he said, tilting his head towards the boy but not taking his eyes off of you. You and Jay exchanged hey’s before Chaewon took your order, quickly giving it to the kitchen and scanning the room to make sure every table had what they needed, then headed back to your table.

“Is Layla okay?” you asked Jake, worry making your brows furrow.

“Huh?” The sudden mention of his dog took him aback. Why wouldn’t she be okay?

“Layla?” you repeated, tilting your head. “Is she okay? You said you had to go to the vet.”

His eyes widened as he remembered his lie from earlier, and he started nodding frantically. “Oh yeah, yeah, she’s fine, we panicked over nothing,” he said with a nervous giggle. Jake was the worst liar Jay and Sunghoon had ever seen, but you were none the wiser.

“What about you, Jay? How was your school thing?” Sunghoon asked, turning to his friend with a glare and making him choke on his Coke.

“Oh, that was fine too, I guess,” Jay mumbled.

As expected, Jake and Chaewon were experts at leading the conversation, and Jay himself was pretty talkative. They all bounced off of each other naturally, and even Sunghoon knew how to throw in witty remarks now and there. You also participated, but you were more than happy just listening to them and laughing along. You tried not to think too much about how your knee would bump into Jake’s once in a while, or how he seemed to look at you every time he made a joke.

At some point, Chaewon had rushed over to your table, looking right at you with wide eyes and beaming. “Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God, Y/N, hat guy is here!”

You instantly mirrored her expression. “Where where where?” you asked, lifting your body up to scan around the restaurant.

“Over there in the corner, but be discreet!”

You were not at all discreet as your eyes found said hat guy, noting with satisfaction that he was characteristically hatless, and you burst into laughter. “I can’t believe he’s here!”

“Right? Probably has the munchies or something,” Chaewon said, laughing along.

You only noticed then the perplexed looks all three boys were sending your way. “Who the heck is hat guy?” Jake asked, which only made you and Chaewon laugh harder.

“You wouldn’t get it,” she replied airily, waving Jake off as she made her way to a customer who had called for her.

The boys turned to you and you shrunk in your seat at their attention. “Just a guy the girls and I find funny,” you explained, shrugging and glancing quickly at Sunghoon. If only he knew about all the times you and the girls had gossiped about him, even though he’d done nothing of importance.

When her shift was over, the first thing Chaewon did was take off her apron, then dragged you to the bathroom, where she drilled you for details about your cinema “date” with Sunghoon.

“It was not a date, it just ended up being the two of us because the others couldn’t make it,” you insisted, but she wasn’t having it. “There’s nothing to say anyway. We got there, talked a bit, watched the movie, walked here, and that’s it.”

Chaewon sighed, shaking her head as she reapplied her lip gloss. A small smile made its way onto your lips. “I think he’s into someone else anyway.”

You noticed how her hand faltered for a split second. “Oh yeah? Who?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but you knew your friend too well.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, the discussion between the boys back at the table was not too different from yours.

“Bro, I’m literally going to kill you,” Sunghoon whisper-yelled even though you were way out of earshot already. “Do you know how awkward that was?”

“Just so you know, I had nothing to do with this,” Jay said. “I told him that putting two socially constipated idiots like you wouldn’t end well, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Y/N’s not an idiot!” Jake immediately reacted.

“And I am?!” Sunghoon retorted.

Jay just rolled his eyes.

“You are, because this is the second time you’re alone together with the girl you like and you can barely make conversation with her.”

“For the last time, I don’t like her, I just called her cute once in freshman year-”

“Same thing!”

“Jake, I don’t know how many times I can tell you the same thing before you get it. I’ve been around Y/N enough to know I don’t like her like that, okay? We’ve had two classes where we sat together for a whole semester, and we’ve worked with other people in group projects. Not to mention, you’ve made me sit through one of your practices with her. She’s nice. She sends me the homework when I miss class. She even laughs at my jokes sometimes. And her dog is super cute. I’m sure we’d be better friends if we both didn’t have crippling shyness, but I don’t like her like that. I just don’t.”

“But how?!”

“What do you mean how? This sorta thing doesn’t have any sort of reasonable answer, you just do or you don’t. I don’t. Clearly, you do.”

Jake heard the last part of Sunghoon’s words, and promptly decided to ignore them. He had to understand this first - he’d figure out his feelings later. “This whole time, I thought you were just downplaying your feelings, ‘cause you’re an awkward asshole who doesn’t do emotions,” he said, eyes tightly shut and holding his head, the confusion making his brain hurt.

“Okay, ouch. But no, I wasn’t. I really don’t know what got into your head.”

“I know what got into his head,” Jay said. Both of his friends looked at him questioningly, so he went on. “When Sunghoon mentioned Y/N, you probably thought she was super cute too, Jake. But because of bro code and whatnot, you didn’t wanna show any interest. And then as you saw her around more, you probably liked her more, but you thought Sunghoon liked her, so you sort of gave him your crush on her instead of dealing with it. You lived vicariously through him, basically. Except you’re an idiot because he doesn’t even like her like that, so you could’ve shot your shot a long time ago already. I don’t know why you didn’t just listen to him, to be honest,” Jay finished, shrugging.

“You also thought he liked her!” Jake retorted.

“That’s besides the point. The point is that you’re stupid.”

“But- but, what about all those times you talked about her? I didn’t make those up!”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The most I ever said about her was something like, Y/N and I both forgot our textbook today, or Y/N brought cookies for the class because it’s her birthday. You were always the one to notice her everywhere and go, There’s your crush, or something.”

Jake sighed, defeated. He could admit Sunghoon was right about something, and he was wrong - but he hated that Jay was also right. Had he really managed to bury his feelings for you all these years just for what he thought was Sunghoon’s sake? Sure, he was a loyal friend, but that felt a little much.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, recoiling from his friends’ expectant gazes and taking a sad bite of his cheeseburger. “It’s not like she likes me back, or anything.”

He watched in confusion as Sunghoon let out a loud groan, screwing his eyes shut and taking his head in his hands as if it hurt. “This is so frustrating, I’m going to kill myself.”

Jake turned to Jay for some sort of explanation to their friend’s sudden suicidal thoughts, but Jay just looked back at Jake with disgust. “When did you become so dumb? I swear you didn’t use to be like this,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jake’s eyes flickered between his two friends in utter dismay. “What?”

“Jake,” Jay started. “Do you really, honestly, genuinely think Y/N doesn’t like you?”

The boy leaned back in his seat with a pout. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Sunghoon’s head whipped up at this. Jake gulped at the intense glare his friend fixed him with - he’d never looked so angry with him, and it made Jake wonder what on Earth he could have said or done that made Sunghoon so upset. “Why?” he asked simply, but the frustration was evident in his voice.

Your diary popped up in Jake’s head. What he had read was clear. Of course, the entry dated from over a month ago now, but why would your feelings have changed since then? Jake sighs deeply, getting ready to reveal to his friends what he’d seen, but then he sees you and Chaewon emerging from the bathroom. “They’re coming back,” he mumbled.

It was Sunghoon and Jay’s turn to sigh. “Just pay attention to her, Jake, okay?” Jay instructed, giving his friend an intent look.

“I already do,” Jake replied, frowning.

“No, really pay attention to her. Then use your pea-sized brain for once in your life, and maybe you’ll realize something.”

A strongly-worded reply was on the tip of Jake’s tongue, but all thoughts of violence and murdering his friend were replaced by images of rainbows and pretty flowers when you smiled at him. He felt like the biggest of idiots for liking you so much and only realizing it now.

“Hi,” he said dumbly as you found your seat next to him again, then stole a french fry from you even though he had many left himself. When you gasped at his audacity, he just giggled.

“Hey!” you exclaimed in protest before stealing a fry back.

If you hadn’t been so caught up in your little world, you’d have noticed the knowing look your three friends exchanged and their simultaneous eye roll.

—

The following Monday, you decided to have your tutoring session at your house instead of Jake’s. His mom was away at a convention for the week, so you’d have to take the bus anyway - since your house was two stops earlier, you offered to switch it up for once. Jake had never actually been inside your house and was curious to see what it was like, so he eagerly agreed.

Kiwi was happy to see him and followed the two of you around the house as you gave Jake a quick tour before going up to your room. When you reached the top landing, you realized that Kiwi was still at the bottom of the stairs and was looking up at you expectantly. “Is she not allowed upstairs?” Jake asked.

“Usually not, but I let her come up when my mom’s not here. Come on Kiwi! It’s okay!”

Kiwi didn’t need to be told twice - she trudged her little body up the stairs, and you couldn’t help but giggle at her adorableness. “She’s so cute,” you cooed, looking at your dog with a huge smile on your face.

“She really is,” Jake agreed, but when you turned your head to face him, he wasn’t looking at Kiwi - he was looking straight at you, a softness in his eyes that made your stomach turn. He snapped out of it when he noticed your round, surprised eyes, and cleared his throat. “So, where’s your room?” he asked, looking around the hallway and avoiding your gaze.

“Over there,” you replied, fighting the smile that tried to make its way to your lips as you headed towards your room, Jake and Kiwi following right behind.

You told Jake to wait for a second as you went to get a second chair. When you came back, he was standing in front of your shelves, upper body slightly bent forwards to observe all the decorations and framed pictures closer. You placed the chair next to your desk then joined him, answering all the questions he had about the items on your shelves. Who’s this? When was this? Where did you get this? In his defense, you really did have a lot of things - you were trying to get rid of your hoarding habits, but you got attached to every small thing that held some sort of significance. You went to sit at the edge of your bed and just watched him, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

It reminded you of the first time you’d been to his house, how upset he’d seemed when you talked about his baby pictures and how you hadn’t wanted to risk looking at all the stuff in his room. You were also curious about things like that, and you wondered once again what had bothered him so much. The question was burning your tongue - although you were nervous to ask it, not wanting to upset Jake once more, you now knew him well enough to know he wasn’t the type to stay mad for long.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jake replied, fingers toying with your favorite Littlest Pet Shop figurine you had kept from when you were eight.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at your baby photos that one time?”

Jake paused at your words. He stood up straight and set the figurine back on the shelf. He glanced at you before walking over to your bed and taking a seat next to you, leaning back on his palms while you rested your hands underneath your thighs.

“You probably noticed I don’t mention my dad, right? Or the fact that he’s never home?”

You nodded in response. You had noticed it, but you’d never brought the topic up in case it might be sensitive. Jake sighed. “He passed away when I was six.”

You turned your head towards him. To your surprise, his face remained expressionless - you couldn’t detect any sort of sadness or anger in his features, as if he was just reciting a fact. His uncharacteristic numbness upset you even more than any tears could have.

He met your gaze and gave you a small smile. “I was so young that I only have very vague memories of him, like playing soccer together in the backyard or a trip to the beach with my parents and my brother. I only remember his face and his voice from the photos and videos my mom has shown me.” He sighed again, shifting forwards and resting his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. “So when I see these pictures, they sort of just remind me of what I’ve lost? I really don’t like lingering on them. I sort of just ignore them every time I walk up or down the stairs.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have mentioned them if I’d known-”

Jake is quick to shake his head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have guessed.” You want to comfort Jake in some way, thank him for telling you something so personal, but you’re not sure what words to use - so, instead, you take one of his hands in yours and bring it to your lap, then cover it with your other one. Your eyes meet for a second - he looks slightly taken aback at first, but then, his eyes drift down to your joined hands, and a small blush spreads on his cheeks.

“I’m- I’m okay, really. Like I said, it happened so long ago that I’m used to not having a dad now. It almost feels like it’s always been that way, which makes it even weirder to think it wasn’t. It’s just… It feels weird to miss someone I barely remember so much, you know?”

You nodded and let out a low hum. “I do know.” Jake tilted his head at you, silently asking you to go on. “It’s different, but I get that feeling of missing something you barely remember. I have these blurry memories of my parents being happy together and the three of us being a happy family, and then all of a sudden it’s hearing arguments from my room and my dad moving out, and they’re asking me, Do you wanna live with mom or dad?”

You watched as Jake moved his hand slightly, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your hand. “I was older than you were when they divorced, so I guess I have more memories to hold onto, but they hurt more than anything.” You let out a deep sigh. “My dad cheated, so it’s not like I wished my mom had stayed with him, but I was too young to understand what was happening. I just wanted my parents together again.”

When you lifted your head to look at him, he met your gaze, and his eyes were so soft yet so intense, like he was seeing right into you. Then he chuckled. “Do you ever get jealous of other people’s parents?” he asks, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“All the time,” you admitted with a chuckle, relieved to find out you weren’t the only one. “Yena has been blessed with these like, practically perfect parents that are still in love after twenty years, never argue and have a healthy relationship with all of their kids. I’m so in awe every time I see them.”

“Sunghoon’s parents are like that. I feel terrible, but every time they come to cheer him on at his competitions, I just get so jealous, wishing I also had three people coming to see my games and not just two. And I always feel so silly for feeling that way.”

“You’re not silly for that, Jake,” you said, and the honesty in your voice seemed to take him aback slightly. A grin spread on your lips. “You may be silly for other things, but not for that,” you teased, making him chuckle. “I can be your third person, if you want,” you said softly, lightly bumping your shoulder against his.

His eyes seemed to light up at your words, and your smile couldn’t help but get wider at his reaction - that was, until he raised an eyebrow, almost defiantly. “Yeah? I thought you found soccer boring,” he said with a playful smirk.

“It’s not boring if you’re the one playing,” you replied. A small noise of surprise escaped his throat before he could help it, not expecting you to be so forward, and you both burst into giggles.

He cleared his throat when you both calmed down and stood up straighter, trying to put on a cool front. “Of course it isn’t.” He turned his head to look out the window, and the sight of the sunlight perfectly hitting his features and turning his dark brown eyes a hazel color almost took your breath away. “It’s really nice out,” he suddenly said. He turned back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we ditch the tutoring for today and go out?”

His eyes drifted down to your lips, watching as a smile tugged at the corners of your own. “I’m in.”

That was how you found yourselves sitting at a bench in the park close to your house, eating ice cream and watching Kiwi and Layla play together. You tried each other’s ice cream, and you regretted your choice of simple vanilla and strawberry as soon as Jake’s mango ice cream touched your tongue. Your eyes widened at the amazing taste - it felt like you had bit into an actual mango.

“Good, right?” Jake asked, chuckling at your reaction.

“What the heck, yours is so much better than mine,” you mumbled, pouting at the ice cream in your cup like it had personally hurt you.

Jake thought for a second, looking back and forth between your upset expression and his own cup. “Wanna switch?”

Your heart was screaming yes, but your brain was screaming no. You tried your best to appear genuine when you smiled at him. “No, don’t worry about it. I still like mine.” You looked at him as you scooped another spoonful into your mouth as if to prove to him you were happy with your choice, even going so far as to hum in delight.

Jake just chuckled and shook his head at you, taking your cup and giving you his anyway. You were about to protest until he started eating your ice cream, imitating your previous hum. You quietly accepted the exchange, smiling as you tasted the mango ice cream again and trying to ignore the fact that Jake hadn’t switched the spoons with the cups, so you were using his and he was using yours.

As you ate in silence, occasionally chuckling at your dogs’ antics, Jake stole some glances at you. He wasn’t sure why you looked so much prettier today than all the times he’d seen you before. Or maybe you were just as pretty as you’d always been, and he was just finally letting himself admit it.

He may have had many friends, but there weren’t many people Jake was truly himself around. He always felt the need to be this friendly, outgoing guy that made it seem like everything was going well in his life, but with you, he felt like it was okay to stop pretending. He felt like it was okay to ask for help, like it was okay to reveal the darker parts of his life.

Now that Jay and Sunghoon had practically forced him to see the truth, Jake didn’t know what to do about his feelings for you. He finally understood why he always looked forward to your tutoring sessions, why he was so excited whenever he walked past you in the hallways, and why he was so bothered about you and Sunghoon getting along.

Sunghoon. Because even if Jake now knew that he liked you, he also knew that you liked someone else. And what was the point of letting himself fall for you even more when there was no happy ending in sight for him? He’d only get hurt in the end.

Just as the thought hit him, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Every time you smiled at him like that, Jake felt like he was watching a movie. Everything happened in slow-motion, with flowers falling around you and violins playing in the background. Jake almost felt sick, knowing he was only the second lead in your romance movie. He was the stupid werewolf and Sunghoon was the vampire that glistened in the sun and got the girl. (You had convinced him to watch Twilight, saying it was a mandatory watch to understand who you were as a person. Of course, Jake had streamed it that same night. The soundtrack was surprisingly good.)

Your voice snapped him out of his downward-spiraling thoughts. “You know, I almost got scared that Sunghoon would appear out of thin air and start hanging out with us.”

Jake tried not to sneer at the mention of his best-friend-turned-number-one-nemesis. “Why? Wouldn’t you like that?” he mumbled, clearly doing a poor job of seeming unaffected.

You frowned, then lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your almost-finished ice cream. “No, I’d rather if it was just the two of us.” Jake’s eyes widened, unsure if he’d heard that correctly or not. But before he could say anything in response, you spoke again. “It’s just, he was there when I came to watch your practice and when I thought we were all going to see a movie together, it was just him and me. You would’ve liked that movie, by the way,” you said, looking up at Jake with a smile.

Jake’s heart swelled. He wasn’t sure what what you were saying all meant, but unconsciously, his lips mirrored yours and he smiled back at you. Until he remembered you didn’t like him, and his smile fell immediately. Obviously, you had no idea what he was thinking, so his sudden stony expression sent alarms ringing through your head.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, or anything,” you said, panicked, and Jake had to keep himself from scoffing, “it’s just that- you know. It’s nice to hang out with you outside of tutoring sessions,” you finished, mumbling.

Jake had no idea what you were saying, so he stayed quiet, watching as Kiwi and Layla ran around in circles. You liked Sunghoon, so why would you rather hang out with Jake and not him? You weren’t making any sense.

You, on the other hand, were not liking Jake’s uncharacteristic silence. In hopes of getting his attention, you crossed one leg over the other, shifting on the bench to face him. “Plus, don’t you think he and Chaewon really hit it off the other night? I think that was the most I’ve ever heard him talk,” you said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. To your dismay, it didn’t work. You didn’t know whether he was sulking or genuinely upset - all you knew was you desperately wanted to see a smile on his pretty face again.

“Jakey?” you called out, and your voice sounded so small it hurt his heart. He hummed in response, only glancing at you for a fraction of a second. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he replied, scooping the last of the ice cream in his mouth. As he tasted the strawberry and vanilla flavors, he couldn’t believe he had given his precious mango ice cream up all for a girl who didn’t even like him back. What a fool.

“I don’t know, you’re all- weird, all of a sudden, for lack of a better word.” You searched for some sort of an answer in his eyes, but he supplied you with none.

Jake sighed deeply. He could feel the ugly mix of emotions in his belly turning into anger - anger at what exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to lay it on you. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired,” he said. Sure, it was warm for a May afternoon, but it wasn’t that hot. But you didn’t want to push it.

“Should we go home?“ you offered, and the worry in your voice made him feel even worse. He just couldn’t understand why you were being so nice to him. He knew you probably just thought you were looking after a friend, but he'd rather you not care about his well-being and leave him be. He didn’t need one more reason to like you - he already had plenty of those.

He nodded, mustering as convincing a smile as he could. “Sure.”

The walk home was much quieter than usual. You could feel that Jake was keeping something to himself, and it was killing you; but whatever it was, you wanted him to tell you when he felt ready and not feel forced to. Your hand was aching, desperate to reach out and grab his as you had done before, but you were afraid that would only push him away even further. So you stayed silent most of the time, only commenting on the things around you or speaking a thought out loud when you thought it might make Jake smile. Every time his lips curled up, even ever so slightly, your heart swelled with relief.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was making up his mind. He knew he needed time away from you to gather his feelings before he could see you as a friend again.

When you reached your house, Jake waited outside with the dogs as you grabbed his bag he’d left upstairs. You hugged goodbye as always, but this one was different - it lasted a few seconds longer than usual, and you could swear Jake held you tighter than he normally would. It felt like he was saying goodbye for more than just a couple days.

You didn’t understand why it made your heart ache so much.

—

The next day, when you walked past Jake and Sunghoon in the hallway, Jake barely glanced at you and only tilted his head in your general direction instead of his usual wide grin and wave. You were so shocked by his sudden snubbing that you halted in your steps right away, looking behind you at his retreating figure. You locked eyes with Sunghoon, who seemed just as confused as you felt. He shrugged at you before returning to his friend and nudging his arm.

On Wednesday morning, you got a text from Jake that he couldn’t make it to your tutoring session that afternoon because of an extra soccer practice to prepare for their game that weekend, something he had never mentioned before.

Thursday and Friday weren’t very different, and your heart became heavier with every time you walked past each other and he acted like you weren’t even there. You desperately wanted to know what you’d done wrong, why he’d started to reply in one-word sentences instead of his usual voice messages and tons of emojis, but no matter how much you cogitated, you couldn’t figure it out. Even when you asked him how his game had gone, a dry Good stared back at you from your phone screen.

That Saturday, your girlfriends came over. Yena had brought beads and strings to make accessories out of, and the mere sight of them had brought fond memories back to all four of you - during your first sleepover in freshman year, this was the exact activity that had kept you occupied for hours.

You got started on them immediately, each finding a comfortable spot in your room as soft music played in the background. You lay on your bed while Chaewon and Yena took over the floor and Hyewon sat at your desk.

“I’m gonna make one of those phone accessories,” Yena said excitedly, reaching for the biggest, most colorful beads.

“I’m gonna make couple bracelets for Jaemin and I,” Hyewon said somewhat shyly but beaming. Yena and Chaewon groaned at her words, but they gave you an idea.

“You guys are vomit-inducing,” Yena replied, and if you didn’t know your friend any better, just going off the tone of her voice, you’d have thought she was being serious. Hyewon just rolled her eyes, used to this daily slander she received simply for being in a relationship.

“I’ll make something for my little sister,” Chaewon butted in, and you and Yena simultaneously ‘aww’ed.

“So it’s aww when Chaewon does it for her sister, and it’s vomit-inducing when I do it for my boyfriend?” Hyewon exclaimed, appalled.

“Little sisters are cute. Boyfriends are gross,” Yena replied matter-of-factly, making you giggle.

“Whatever. You guys are just jealous that you’re dying alone and I’m not. What are you making, Y/N?” she asked before Yena could retort again. The two exchanged a glare as you thought over your answer.

“I’m not saying,” you replied with a giggle.

“She’s making one for Jake, that evil wench,” Chaewon immediately said, making your eyes widen. Yena gasped dramatically while Hyewon smiled at you.

“How did you know?” you asked Chaewon.

“Just your face. You’re so obvious,” she snickered.

“You’re a traitor, Y/N!” Yena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at you, and you hid your face in your hands, muttering an apology. “Wasting time and energy on a boy.”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N. Whatever it is you make, he’ll be super happy you thought of him. Then he’ll finally ask you out and you’ll live happily ever after, just like me and Jaemin,” Hyewon said with a serene smile on her face. Chaewon and Yena exchanged a look, then faked a gagging sound. “So bitter,” Hyewon muttered, shaking her head at your friends.

“I’m not sure about that,” you sighed. “I just want to be friends again. He’s been ignoring me all week.”

All three snapped their heads up at you. “He’s been ignoring you?” Yena echoed, and you meekly nodded. “Give me his phone number. No, give me his address. I’m going there right now,” she said, already sitting up.

“Gosh, Yena, it’s fine,” you said, gesturing at her to sit back down, laughing at your friend’s seriousness. “I’ll see him on Monday anyway, I can just see how he behaves then.”

Yena didn’t look convinced, but she yielded anyway. “If he hurts you, I swear I’ll give him a stern talking to. And a broken nose.” You laughed as you thanked your friend.

Hyewon asked for more details about this Jake situation, so you filled your friends in about his mysterious behavior that week. Chaewon had been the only one to see it firsthand, when you’d walked to a class together and Jake had walked past you without saying anything. You told them about his sparse answers to your texts, his lack of response to the TikToks you sent him. He wasn’t even reacting to your BeReals anymore. It was just such a complete switch-up in attitude that you had no idea what to make of it. They tried to come up with reasons for it, but it really didn’t make much sense. It just felt like he suddenly decided to hate you - or maybe you had been interpreting everything wrong, and the two of you had never been friends in the first place.

“This is so confusing,” Chaewon suddenly said, seeming lost in thought. “I thought for sure that he liked you.”

“Liked… me?” you echoed.

“Yeah. Just the way he was when we were at the diner. He kept looking at you and was always smiling and blushing whenever you talked to him. Also the way Jay and Sunghoon were behaving. Boys are so obvious when their friend likes someone, it’s like they’re trying to fumble it for him. And I mean, anyone with functioning eyes can see that you like him too, so I don’t know why he’s doing this all of a sudden.”

Yena sighed. “Boys are stupid.”

“That, they are,” you agreed, sighing as well and returning your attention to your craft. Maybe a simple gift like this wouldn’t fix what was going on between you and Jake, but you had to at least try. You couldn’t let go of your friendship so easily.

Even though it seemed as though he could.

Nothing changed the next week. On Monday, you woke up to a text that pulled your heart down into your stomach.

jakey-poo i think we should stop tutoring each other for now

For an hour as you ate breakfast and got ready for school, you ruminated over your answer, only to ask him a simple why? in the end.

jakey-poo i’m to busy w soccer practice and other stuff we can start again when exams are near

you oh okay

You felt pathetic, but you had no idea what to say. You couldn’t force him into this, and you definitely couldn’t show up at his house and demand a better explanation. If you were Yena or Chaewon, maybe you could - but you weren’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him if the two of you could still hang out outside of that, so scared you were for his inevitable rejection.

During the week, you tried to find a time when you could give him your small handmade gift, but Jake wasn’t even looking you in the eyes anymore. The only time you made eye contact with him over those five days was on Wednesday at lunch - as you walked into the cafeteria, you scanned the whole room, unconsciously searching for him. When you did, he was already looking at you - he was close enough for you to see the slight frown in his eyebrows, the lack of the usual glint in his eyes. But as soon as he’d seen you’d found him, he turned away. You only looked away when Chaewon called out your name.

In the few classes you had together, he always slipped away before you could get to him. Him walking past you like he couldn’t even see you broke your heart a little bit more every time, and by Friday, you had completely given up. Your friendship with Jake was over, and you had no idea why, no idea who or what to blame.

Monday and Wednesday afternoons felt empty now that you had gotten used to spending them with him, and you couldn’t even walk Kiwi without missing him. He seemed to miss Jake and Layla too - he’d sometimes tilt his head at you as if asking where your new friends were, and when you got to the park, he’d gloomily stick to you instead of running around like he usually would, especially when Layla was there.

The worst part was at night, when your thoughts kept you up. You’d reread your and Jake’s text conversations, wondering what went so wrong so quickly, warm tears spilling from your eyes out of sadness and tiredness. On those nights, you’d sneak Kiwi up to your room and let him cuddle up to you in your bed. You’d comfort each other that way.

You had no idea that a couple kilometers away, Jake lay in bed sleepless as well, Layla at the edge of his bed and whining in her sleep. You had no idea that missing you had carved a deep hole in his chest.

—

Enough was enough.

It had been days since Layla had last seen Kiwi, and to a young pup like her, that felt like eternity. Lately, Jake hadn’t seemed happy to go on walks with her like he used to, and he barely had any energy to play with her. She also hadn’t seen you in days, and she wondered if that had anything to do with Jake’s recent despondency.

But thankfully, Layla was a smart girl, so she knew exactly what to do to fix this dire situation. On Friday, she waited for Jake to come back from soccer practice and take her on a walk. As soon as they reached the sidewalk outside of their house, she pulled on her leash in the opposite direction of their usual route. Jake tried pulling her the other way, but she wouldn’t budge.

“We’re going that way, Layla,” Jake said, amused by his dog’s sudden stubbornness. Layla barked back. “Come on!”

She was really not moving. “We never go that way,” Jake said, sighing. “That way’s the-”

That’s when he realized. Layla wanted to go to the park you went to with Kiwi. “But what if we ran into them?” Jake asked.

Layla barked again. She wanted to say, That’s exactly why I want to go there, but of course Jake didn’t understand. He sighed again and obliged, letting Layla lead the way. She had a good feeling that she’d finally see her friends again today.

Jake’s heart started beating faster with every step he took, knowing that you might be out right now, too. When he’d seen you at school, you’d seemed as sad as he was, and he felt terrible for perhaps being the reason behind it - but he didn’t know what else to do. He could either spare your feelings or his. If this was hurting you, he knew you’d move on quickly enough anyway - and when he came to terms with being just friends with you, he’d come back, and everything would be perfect like it used to be. Foolproof plan.

If there was one thing Jake had learned from the tutoring sessions with you, it was that the weather always reflected the protagonist’s inner thoughts. If they were upset, it would be gray and rainy - if they were happy, it would be warm and sunny. Jake glared at the sun, just another reminder that he wasn’t the main character in this story. If he was, it would be thundering and lightning would be striking.

As if his life was a joke, two minutes after Jake and Layla had walked into the park, he saw you. At least you were facing the other direction, so you couldn’t see him, and he could redirect his route to avoid you. But he let himself indulge in the moment for a few seconds. You had laid out a picnic blanket for you and Kiwi and rested on your stomach with your elbows propping you up, reading a book. Kiwi slept peacefully next to you - this dog was the furthest thing from a guard dog Jake had ever seen. You kicked your feet up in the air, flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket. Jake was happy to see you like this, enjoying the warmth of this sunny May afternoon.

He was about to walk away, but a sudden movement caught his eye. Two school kids started running to you, and before you could even register their presence, one of them snatched your flip flops and they both sprinted away, shrieking with laughter like two little devils. Where the hell were their parents?!

Without thinking, Jake started running after them, and so did Kiwi and Layla.

“Hey! Come back here!” Jake yelled, hoping in vain that these kids would listen to someone older than them. Kiwi did his best, but his tiny legs didn’t allow for such a chase - Layla, barking loudly at the thieves, was the first to reach them, and she managed to scare them so much, they tripped over their feet. But unlike them, she was well-behaved, so she sat once her job was done and waited for Jake to arrive.

“What are you two doing? You can’t just steal other people’s things!” he admonished, holding onto his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Both kids were already teary-eyed. “We just wanted to play a prank, we’re sorry!” one of them quickly said, voice shaky.

“It’s not to me you should apologize, but to her,” Jake said, turning around to point in your direction. That’s when he noticed you sitting on your knees, hands covering your face as your shoulders trembled. “You made her cry!” Jake exclaimed, tone much angrier than seconds prior. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the kids by their shoulders and forcing them to keep up with his quick steps.

You didn’t notice their presence in front of you until Jake prompted them. At the sound of the all too familiar voice, you whipped your head up. Jake swore he heard his heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You barely heard the kids’ apology, so amazed you were at suddenly seeing Jake.

“We’re sorry for stealing your flip-flops and making you cry,” the first one said.

“Sorry,” repeated the other one, handing you your shoes.

“Oh, right. Thanks, just don’t do it again,” you replied, sniffing as you took back your shoes.

“We won’t!” they replied in unison before running away once more.

Jake stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure what to say. He watched you stare at your flip flops like you’d never seen them before in your life. “You’re not going to thank me for catching those delinquents?” he asked after a small while, chuckling slightly.

This made you look up at him. He gulped as your eyes met. Then, you burst into sobs again, and Jake started panicking. He crouched down to your level, first holding you by the shoulders then forcing your head out of your hands so he could wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“No no no, why are you crying, Y/N?” he asked softly, pulling you into a hug.

You continued crying into his shoulder, ignoring Kiwi and Layla’s confused stares. “You- you- I haven’t seen you in ages!” you exclaimed.

Jake sighed. He didn’t understand why you were crying like this for him, all he knew was that he’d never felt so awful. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, pulling your shaking body closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned back to glare at Jake, your bottom lip jutting out in discontent. “Do you even know how much I missed you?”

Jake held your head in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. Mouth agape in surprise, he looked at you with sad eyes. “You… you did?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Of course I did!” Another sob rippled through your body, and Jake took you back in his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders and resting his cheek against your hair.

“I missed you too.”

“Then why did you do this?” you asked, voice breaking.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” Jake whispered back. “But I didn’t think I’d hurt you. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You leaned back again, but this time, you looked confused rather than angry. His eyes were soft as they scanned your face and as he brushed strands of your hair back behind your ears. “Why would you get hurt?” you asked again, bringing your voice to the same volume as his.

Jake sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if in pain, before opening them again and boring them into yours. “I like you so, so much Y/N. So much so that I don’t know what to do with myself. But I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I was scared that by staying by your side, I’d just fall in love with you even more and get hurt in the end. So I pushed you away because I didn’t know what else to do, but I’m so sorry I- You’re crying again?”

Your fists grabbed at the front of Jake’s t-shirt as sobs raked through your body once more. It was official - Jake was the stupidest person you’d ever met. And you were in love with him.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I like you too, you idiot!” you yelled back. Your tears were probably staining his t-shirt, but you couldn’t care less. He liked you. Jake liked you.

You were too busy crying to see Jake’s eyes slowly widening in disbelief. “You what?!”

Gently, Jake pushed your shoulders back so he could look at you. Even with puffy eyes and a runny nose, you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Pretty like an angel that had graced the Earth with her presence. “You what?” he repeated, just to hear you say it again.

“I like you, Jake. I’m so in love with you it's actually pathetic,” you said with a chuckle, looking down out of shyness. But when you looked back up, Jake’s eyes were going back and forth between yours, the expression on his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard but desperately hoped it was true.

As you locked eyes, both of your faces lit up with grins. You burst into laughter together, finding each other’s hands and intertwining your fingers together. Then Jake brought you back into his arms, holding tightly, as if he was scared you might disappear any second. Kiwi and Layla had long walked away to give the two of you some needed privacy.

In each other’s arms, you rocked side to side gently and laughed for no reason other than the incredible fact your feelings were reciprocated. “You stink, you know,” you suddenly said in-between giggles. “You sweat while you ran after those kids.”

“I sweat? You mean I swote, right?” Jake asked a pause.

You leaned back to look at Jake. “Swote?” you echoed, and he nodded. Your umpteenth smile made your cheeks lift. “You have to be kidding-”

“I am,” Jake cut off, mirroring your smile. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

You gasped and lightly punched his chest before letting your body fall against his again. “You’re so silly,” you said, sighing in bliss at the sound of his giggles.

Then all of a sudden, Jake pulled away and looked at you, almost frightened. “What about Sunghoon?”

“What about him?” you asked back, confused by Jake’s question.

“I thought you- Didn’t you- you know…”

You tilted your head at Jake, a small grin spreading on your lips again. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you liked him…” Jake mumbled, looking away with a pout.

Before you could stop it, a noise of confusion left your throat. You looked at Jake like he was insane. “I can barely have a conversation with Sunghoon, what made you think I liked him?”

Jake pursed his lips and let a resigned puff of air out of his nose. “I, um- Remember when we mixed our backpacks up?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at the fun memory. “I may have, um, I may have read… your… diary,” he admitted, voice getting quieter with each word. He dared a glance at you - you looked horrified, eyes wide and mouth agape. “And you wrote that you liked Sunghoon,” he finished with a whisper.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Jake was bracing himself for a slap to the face or your screams, until you did the last thing Jake expected you to do - you laughed. You laughed so hard and for so long that he got scared you had gone insane and this was the first part of your mental breakdown before you murdered him in cold blood for having invaded your privacy. He would’ve deserved it, he thought.

“I don’t- oh my God, Jake, I don’t- I don’t like Sunghoon. I never really have, or not in the way you think, I can’t- oh my God,” you explained in between giggles, trying to catch your breath but starting to laugh again every time you managed to compose yourself. Jake tried to laugh along, but he was too confused to do so properly.

“You’re not mad?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head and the last giggles out of your throat. “You read it ages ago, and we didn’t even know each other back then, there’s no point in being mad now. It’s just funny - I know exactly why you think I liked Sunghoon, but I didn’t. Not really. And even if I did, those feelings are nothing compared to the ones I have for you now,” you said, beaming. A blush spread on Jake’s cheeks, and you could tell he was trying (and failing) to contain a proud grin.

You explained to Jake the ‘character’ thing you and your friends had going on and that Sunghoon (and hat guy) just happened to be one of them - you watched as Jake narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded, trying to understand this concept that was so foreign to him.

“You know, it all makes a lot more sense now,” Jake said when you were explaining. “It would’ve been weird for you to like Sunghoon when I was right there.” He smirked down at you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Oh my God!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Jake in the process. Dramatic as always, he put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly. “I have something for you. For us, actually.” You reached into your bag and got out the two accessories you’d made for you and Jake. “These are for us to put on our backpacks, so that we don’t confuse them again. They also match.”

Jake’s eyes were fixated on the string of beads as you placed into his palm. “I tried to give it to you over the week, but…”

A teardrop fell into Jake’s palms, and when you looked at him, you realized he’d started crying. “Jake?” you cooed softly, and he sniffled, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

As a response, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I promise you’ll never go a second without my undivided attention from now on,” he said, voice shaking with emotion, and you hummed happily.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

He leaned back, and you were relieved to find the familiar puppyish grin on his lips. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed your head in his hands and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but when his face was back in front of yours, your eyes immediately drifted to his lips. They looked soft and plump and pink, and were utterly inviting. Every time you’d started daydreaming about kissing Jake, you’d stopped yourself, not wanting to over-indulge in your fantasies. But was this finally, really happening?

“Y/N?” Jake said quietly. You could swear his face was getting closer.

“Hm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your face broke out into a grin. Without warning, you pressed your lips against Jake’s - initially just for a peck, but as soon as you started pulling away, Jake chased after your lips and trapped them into a kiss, a proper one this time. You’d never done this before, so it was naturally somewhat clumsy, but you and Jake were so giddy with excitement that you couldn’t care less. So what if you were smiling so hard, your teeth clashed against his, or you kept bumping noses? You were kissing Jake Sim.

The second time around, he let you pull away to catch your breath, and you wished you could photograph the sight in front of you - Jake with flushed cheeks, closed eyes and a serene smile on his face. He was so pretty, and now, he was all yours.

When he opens his eyes and finds you looking at him, his smile widens. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” you echoed, laughing. You pressed your lips to his cheek before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He hugged you to him and the sweet sound of his giggles filled your ears and your heart. “My girl,” he whispered, before leaning his head back, face to the sky, and screaming it loud enough for the whole park to hear. You tried to shush him, but you couldn’t stop laughing yourself out of sheer excitement. Layla and Kiwi came running back to you, barking happily and trying to lick your faces.

“I cried so much today, my eyes are gonna be puffy tomorrow morning,” you said between giggles.

Jake pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. “I’ll make sure you never cry again, Y/N,” he said, and he sounded so genuine, you almost wanted to cry again right then and there.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur - while you and Jake kissed, laughed, talked, and hugged, hours that felt like minutes passed you by. Jake kept on looking at the accessory you made him, poking fun at you for knowing his favorite color even though he’d never mentioned it.

“It was a lucky guess,” you grumbled. “Your room’s walls are that color,” you said, pointing to a particular dark blue bead.

“I love it,” he replied with a kiss to your forehead.

As always, he walks you home - and this time, you can take his hand without any hesitation. Your mom had come home from work while you and Jake were out, and you found her in the kitchen, prepping some veggies for dinner.

As soon as Jake introduced himself, a flash of revelation struck her and she shot you a knowing smirk. “So you’re Jake,” she said, and the boy glanced at you with amused confusion. “That one over there has been badgering me about you these past few weeks.”

Apparently, you agreeing to be his girlfriend had already gone to his head, because instead of looking surprised at your mom’s words, he slowly turned to you with an arrogant smirk gracing his lips. “Has she?”

Your mom nodded slowly. “Oh, yes.” Then her expression slowly morphed into something else as she remembered your red, puffy eyes from the other evening when you’d told her about what was going on with Jake. She raised her kitchen knife and pointed it straight to him, eyes narrowed. “If you ever hurt my daughter again, I’m putting you in the lasagna, young man.”

Jake gulped, smirk completely wiped off of his face. You just watched in amusement. “I- I won’t,” he stuttered, eyes fixed on the blade of the knife.

A wide grin reappeared on your mom’s face as she went back to cutting the vegetables. “Good!”

Jake looked at you for some sort of explanation, but you simply shrugged. He’d just have to get used to your mom’s crazy.

“You know, you’re just as handsome as she described,” your mom told Jake with a wink.

“Mom, please!” you exclaimed, cheeks burning with heat. You liked it better when she was threatening your boyfriend with a knife, but he was relieved by the new turn this conversation had taken.

“What else has she said?”

“Oh, you know, just your typical he’s so smart, he’s so cute, he’s so funny-”

“Okay, that’s it!” you cut in before your mom could spill more on you. You ignored Jake’s noises of complaint as you grabbed him by the shoulders and led him towards the door. “I think it’s time for you to go home, no?”

“Y/N, come on!” Jake whined, giggling.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Jake?” your mom offered, making you stop in your tracks. You stared wide-eyed at her but she just looked at Jake, wearing an inviting smile.

“Sure!” Jake beamed. “I just need to call my mom.”

“Oh, invite her along! I always make enough to feed an army, anyway.”

“Really?” Jake asked, incredulous. Since his brother had left for university, it had always been just he and his mom at the dinner table. The thought of sharing a meal with you and your mom filled his heart with warmth.

“Yeah!”

Jake smiled giddily as he got his phone out. “Thanks, she’ll be stoked.”

Although you both wanted to help your mom, she urged you to stay outside with the dogs and enjoy the last rays of sunshine of the day, insisting she didn’t need any help. So you and Jake spent some time throwing sticks for Kiwi and Layla and giggling at their cuteness. Kiwi quickly got exhausted and came to lie down at your feet, but Layla was tireless. “Your dog, your responsibility,” you said as you sat down next to Kiwi, rubbing his tummy and watching Jake throw the stick over and over again for Layla.

Jake was as relentless as Layla, and every time she ran after the stick, he ran to you and pressed a kiss to another part of your face, making you giggle every time. Once on your forehead, once on your nose, once on your cheek, then the other, and once on your lips.

Then his mom rang the bell, and as your mom opened the door for her, the oddest thing happened - they called out each other’s name and hugged as if they were old friends. You and Jake exchanged a confused look before turning your attention back to them.

“What a coincidence!”

“Right! Such a small world, I can’t believe you’re my daughter’s boyfriend’s mom.”

“Boyfriend? Gosh, has he finally asked her out? I was going crazy seeing him moping around in his room!”

“Mom!” Jake yelled, face already reddening as you burst into laughter.

You joined them inside the house and set the table while your mom finished up dinner. Jake’s mom had brought a bottle of red wine as a gift, so she poured two glasses for her and your mom, but you and Jake stuck to Sprite.

Apparently, they knew each other from some yoga class they both went to every Sunday - you found out this was the woman your mom often went out for lunch or drinks with. They were so excited to meet each other like this that they talked most of the time, leaving you and Jake to eat your food quietly and giggling every time you made eye contact or your feet touched under the table.

Just as you were about to take your last bite of lasagna, your phone pinged with a message. Curiously, so did Jake’s. Chaewon had sent a message into the group chat, asking to meet her at work when her shift was done because she was craving an Oreo milkshake.

chae bae y/n u better come ik ur not doing anything better tonight anyway

You scoffed. You were doing something better.

“Shit, today’s Friday! The boys are waiting for me at the diner, I completely forgot,” Jake exclaimed as he read the messages on his phone.

“Language, Jake,” his mom scolded.

“At the diner?” you repeated.

“Yeah, that one we went to last time. Why?” Jake asked when he noticed your surprised expression.

“That’s where Chaewon wants to meet.”

You both turned to your respective moms, silently asking for permission to leave the dinner table.

“Just go,” your mother said with a smile.

“I’ll take Layla home later,” Jake’s mom added.

You thanked them before rushing to get a bag and heading to the bus stop, hoping a bus would come by soon. Twenty minutes later, you were opening the doors of the diner and looking around for your friends, who were nowhere to be found. You were fishing your phone out of your pocket to call Chaewon when a familiar voice caught your and Jake’s attention.

“What are they doing together?” you heard Jay say, followed by loud shushes. You turned your head to find all five of your friends (plus Jaemin) crammed in a booth in the corner that was somewhat hidden from the rest of the restaurant. But they were trying so hard to be discreet that it made their presence even more obvious - they hid their faces with their hands as if that would make them disappear from your view. You and Jake shared a look before chuckling, shaking your head at your friends.

“Whatever, they’ve clearly found us,” Jay sighed and exited the booth, walking towards the two of you.

“Were you guys trying to get us to make up or something?” Jake asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah, we grouped up and planned this whole thing. It was a real team effort.”

“It might’ve worked better if you hadn’t all stayed here, you guys were so obvious,” you chided.

“Tell that to your friends over there! They insisted on watching it unfold,” Jay grumbled, and you looked behind him to see your friends frantically waving at you.

You switched to a bigger booth that could accommodate all seven of you, and as soon as you’d placed your orders, Yena practically pounced on you, demanding an explanation as to how the two of you were already made up.

You turned to look at Jake and smiled at him before answering. “It’s all thanks to Kiwi, really,” you told Yena.

“Kiwi? As in your dog Kiwi?” Chaewon asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Mh-hm.” In your peripheral, you noticed Jake tilting his head at you.

“You mean Layla, right?”

You imitated his head movement. “No, I mean Kiwi.”

“But Layla made me go to the park today. I wouldn’t have gone there if it wasn’t for her,” Jake insisted, giving you an are you being serious look that you mirrored.

“I wasn’t going to go outside at all but Kiwi kept bugging me to take him on a walk, that’s why I was in the park in the first place. It’s thanks to Kiwi,” you repeated.

“It’s thanks to Layla,” Jake retorted, playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

“Trouble in paradise,” Jaemin whispered, and Hyewon slapped his arm.

The whole table was silent as you and Jake stared each other down, waiting to see who would cave first. It was like everyone could breathe again when Jake’s face broke out into a grin and he rested his arm behind your shoulders. “Okay, it’s thanks to Kiwi,” he conceded, making you hum in satisfaction. You rested your head on his shoulder and ignored Yena’s groan of disgust at the PDA.

But Jake, as always, wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. “And Layla.”

—

02.06.202X - 12:18

rodrigo hater y/n i can see you being gross from across the courtyard can u guys not feed each other ur still on school grounds and ur ruining my day have some decency

sweet hyewon you guys are super cute <3 jaemin and i only have the same lunch period once a week i miss him

rodrigo hater ugh wheres chaewon she’d have my back

you hyewon love u yena frigg off you’re not going to like this… i think she’s with sunghoon rodrigo hater WHAT

sweet hyewon omg hahahaha saw it coming cuuuuute

rodrigo hater i hate you all so much you’re all kicked out of my celibacy club

chae bae we weren’t part of it in the first place

rodrigo hater GO AWAY YOU TRAITOR

03.06.202X - 09:15

you jake wake up wake up wake up please

jake ??? R U okay?

you kiwi keeps whining i think he wants to see layla come over?

jake . did u just wake me up before 10 am on a sunday morning for this

you i made pancakes?

jake i’m going back to sleep

you but i miss you :(

jake running

07.06.202X - 16:39

stink #1 hey

jake no

stink #1 wtf man

jake im busy

stink #1 smooching ur girl?

jake yeah stay mad bro

stink #1 where’s hoon

stink #2 he’s at ice skating practice with me <3 this is chaewon btw

jake AYO????

stink #1 HE GAVE YOU ACCESS TO HIS PHONE???

stink #2 hehehe bye losers

stink #1 oh my god jake this is huge

jake right… our little boy he’s grown so much

stink #1 i’m getting teary eyed anyway i wanted to say i think we should invite the girls to bro night more often it’s always fun with them

jake oh? if u wanna see yena just say so bro

stink #1 fuck u man

jake ur literally so obvious you get 100% more obnoxious when she’s around

stink #1 idc she laughs at my jokes

jake which is proof that there’s something wrong w her anyway i’ll ask my girl about it

stink #1 ew and thx ^^

09.06.202X - 17:03

jakey-poo y/nnnnnn y/n hellloooooo y/n y/n y/n baby :(((( where are u what r u doing i miss you hello y/n my baby darling angel pls answer me layla misses you

you jake sim

jakey-poo HIIIIII

you jay is a genius i’m anime pomodoroing the hell out of this essay it’s working so well i’m almost done with it already

jakey-poo don’t compliment another man ever again i’m going to cry

you but jay’s your friend

jakey-poo i’ll kill him if i have to

you gosh okay jay’s an idiot

jakey-poo hahaha he is ice cream after dinner ???

you duh

31.07.202X - 21:03

jakey-poo i’m waiting for you outside the theater baby we have a lot of talking to do. i can’t believe you kissed someone else in front of me

you jake baby it was just acting <3 you know you’re the only one i really kiss

jakey-poo i know i am so come here and kiss me quick you did so well and you were so pretty on stage and i love you so much COME QUICK I WANNA KISS YOU

you i’m hurrying i promise but a lot of people are trying to talk to me :(

jakey-poo ofc they are you killed it my baby’s already famous <3

you hehe love you my jakey-poo

jakey-poo STOP IT WITH THAT

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 (ask to be removed/added!)

#@ : uc #enhypen x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen fluff #jake sim fluff #jake x reader #jake fluff #enhypen scenarios #jake sim scenarios #enhypen imagines #jake sim imagines #enhypen angst #jake sim angst

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number1jeonginstan · 4 months

Text

Hi guys! @singsangseung decided to collab this Valentine's Day to post some interesting stories to help celebrate the holiday with the SKZ members!

February 6th - Chan: Hard Launch Relationship - Nessa

February 7th - Lee Know: Exhibitionism - Ju

February 8th - Changbin: Food Play - Nessa

February 9th - Hyunjin: Sex Dice - Ju

February 10th - Han: Free Use - Ju

February 11th - Felix: Cooking - Nessa

February 12th - Seungmin: Photobooth - Nessa

February 13th - I.N: Lingerie - Ju

February 14th - Surprise!!!

the dividers were created by @cafekitsune (the top one) and @reveriesources (the bottom divider)

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diybabe666 · 4 months

Text

Happy holidays, imagine I'm a babe on some old Xmas black n white tv special.

Are your eyes looking at my girl bulge or my nipples 🤭🫦🖤

Follow my new FREE OF or join the party and sub to my all access OF page of 3 years. I've made hundreds of videos, solo and with partners/collabs and pro scenes too :)

#girl bulge #pantylover #mtf trans #trans goddess #transmodel #transfem #trans nsft #transgirl #femboii #sissi femboi #nsft trans #queer nsft #nsft mtf #bi nsft #submisive sissy #feminine sissy #alt girl #nipplicous

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cybrsan · 4 months

Text

Miracle Of The Season — J.JK

STORY SUMMARY: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

PAIRING: Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, smut ; second chance romance, angel AU, soulmate AU

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: Heavy themes of religious trauma, an initially negative view of Christianity transforming into a more neutral/respectful view of individual faiths, initial dismissal of other religions, difficult self-growth journey, homelessness, very brief mentions of murder and rape

OTHER/NSFW WARNINGS: Sharing one-bed trope (kinda), mistletoe trope (teehee), first time, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, unprotected sex

A/N: This is a lot. The story definitely got away from me, but I think that's because there was so much I wanted to say. I definitely could have made this longer, and if I had time/wasn't such a slow writer, I probably would have. It's a heavy topic, but it's one that is near and dear to my heart and one that I think a lot of people can relate to. If you do, I hope this story feels a bit healing.

A/N 2: This is based on the vibes of his song "Standing Next To You" and the m/v for it.

LINKS: Part of the Jingle All The Way! collab with my talented, wonderful friends. Cross-posted on AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad. Banner made by the lovely @kithtaehyung.

"—let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

You take a deep, calming breath as you pass the carolers. Their cheerful voices grate on your nerves, but you keep your head down and continue walking. Lashing out at them won't do any good, even if it might give you a moment of satisfaction. It's not like they're the source of your irritation anyway; the crowded streets are abuzz with the unrelenting chaos of the Christmas season, and you have been on edge all morning.

Turning a corner, you enter a street closer to the shelter you have been calling home for the past year and a half. Immediately, some of your tension dissipates, and you feel like you can breathe a bit easier. There are fewer lights here and less noise, but a few decorations still attract your attention, like a moth to a flame. A nativity scene is proudly displayed in someone's window, and you stop dead in your tracks.

"Freedom of religion, my ass," you mutter bitterly as you tear your gaze away. Why does everyone and their mother seem to celebrate this stupid holiday?

You know that for many, Christmas isn’t necessarily a holy season. Some humans just use the holiday as an excuse to wear obnoxious sweaters, play the same song on repeat, and spoil one another with gifts. Yet reminders of the celestial realm, of the life you have been cast out from, are everywhere. The nativity, for one. Then there are the carolers singing their songs, and the cartoonish cherub decals that can be found on shop windows, holding banners that proclaim, “Buy one, get one 20% off!” Even the name of the holiday is marked by one of His monikers. Christmas.

It makes you sick.

The weather doesn't help, either. Drawing your coat more tightly around yourself, you try to ignore the relentless chill that settles deep in your bones. You’re definitely not dressed warmly enough, ill-prepared considering the sensation of being cold is something you’re still getting used to. It is yet another item you have added to your ever-growing list of "whys.” The question of why God created snow joins the ranks of "why did He make spiders?" and "why is He the most selfish being in existence?"

You sniff. Perhaps you let your emotions get the best of you at times.

Emotions. Another thing that’s somewhat new. As an angel, you didn’t really have those. The only thing you ever thought about was following orders and how better you could praise His name. Ugh. It’s hard to believe now that you were ever so single-minded. Though, towards the end, you suppose that wasn’t the case. It all went awry when you started this “list” of yours—when you started questioning things.

The moment that doubt had first crept into your mind seems like a lifetime ago. Reaching the status of archangel was something you had been working toward for millennia. It was a position that allowed you to work more closely with humanity; you were able to actually guide their paths and alter their destiny.

At first, it was everything you had ever wanted. The miracles that occurred because of your intervention made you feel like you were doing something worthwhile. But you quickly learned that not all of your missions would be quite as fulfilling.

You will never forget the first time you were put in charge of administering a holy test. The man had done nothing wrong, yet your higher-ups still insisted that he needed to be "tried by fire." The divine reasons were beyond comprehension, or so you were told. But watching the man suffer as everything he loved was taken from him, seeing the desperation and despair in his eyes… It felt wrong. That feeling stayed with you even as you watched the man's faith remain unbroken. Somehow, that made it worse.

And then there were those who committed sinful acts and escaped punishment. You saw murderers and rapists living their lives in peace while innocent souls suffered unjustly at their hands. The scales of justice seemed unfairly balanced, and you began to feel crushed by the weight of your guilt.

Thus, the degradation process began. For the longest time, you thought it was a myth, a scary story told to keep angels in line. If you doubt, if you disobey, you begin withering away into nothingness. You'll start to feel things, to lose your sense of purpose. It will be painful and overwhelming and, eventually, you'll cease to exist entirely. You were told that if it were to happen, you must report it to a superior at once. But you were terrified.

There was only one person you trusted enough to share the way you were feeling—your other half, your celestial counterpart. The one who knew you like no other did. Your Astrom, Jungkook.

There is an old celestial folk tale that documents the first creation of an Astrom pair. It is said God took one star and split it into two. Neither half could live without the other, nor would they want to. It is difficult to describe the way you felt for him, as angels are devoid of personal desires or emotions as humans experience them. It was simply as if being with him was as natural as breathing. He was the only being other than the Creator that you felt beholden to, that you admired.

When you first revealed your doubts to him, he simply listened, displaying a level of patience that you found comforting. He answered your questions about morality, about justice as best he could, trying to reassure you that everything happened for a reason. Yet no matter how persuasively he argued, your doubts wouldn't go away.

Eventually, you began to start contemplating letting yourself fall from grace. The thought was terrifying, but at the same time, there was a certain allure to it. To Fall meant to renounce your celestial responsibilities, and that included no longer having to inflict pain on innocent souls.

When you confessed this dangerous thought to him, Jungkook gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. All you remember is what he said next: "If you Fall, I shall Fall with you."

His words had been unexpected, and you didn’t know whether to take comfort in them or not. You didn’t want him to share your fate, to bear the burden of your guilt. Could you live with yourself if he Fell too? The answer was an obvious no. But the mere thought of being alone in your struggle was something you couldn’t stomach either. So, you attempted to keep your dissent to a minimum and perform your duties as required. But it wasn’t long before everything fell apart regardless.

Eventually, you were discovered and brought before the celestial court. You were accused of blasphemy since questioning Him was an unforgivable sin and sentenced to Fall, to be cast out from the life you have always known. Yet, the real blow came when you found out who had betrayed you.

Jungkook.

Your Astrom.

The one you had trusted implicitly, the other half of your celestial star, had betrayed you in the name of divine loyalty. The pain of the Fall, the feeling of your grace ripped from your body, the scorching burn of your wings as they turned to ash—none of this could compete with the raw, gut-wrenching anguish of his betrayal.

Even now, months later, remembering makes you feel as if you can't breathe, as if you might die. Every memory of him is like a punch to the gut, and the city, so full of noise and life, does nothing to drown out the agony. Some days, the pain is so vivid and unbearable that it feels as though you are Falling all over again.

A rough shove against your shoulder makes you stumble, and the man who ran into you barely grunts out an apology before continuing past. At least the disruption is a timely one, allowing you to pull yourself out of your thoughts before you spiral. There’s no point focusing on the past when there’s nothing you to do to change it, especially not when you have a myriad of new human concerns to deal with.

Your job hunt was, once again, unsuccessful. You keep telling yourself that it’s because it’s so close to the holidays and you’ll have a better chance once the new year comes. In reality, you’re sure it’s because you have no experience, no schooling, and no useful knowledge.

At least you’re familiar enough with the city now that zoning out didn’t prevent you from getting to your destination.

Lost Star Shelter.

The place you’ve been calling home. It’s certainly not perfect, but little on Earth ever is. You feel awful stepping past the crowd of people waiting outside its doors, knowing that they, like you, have nowhere else to go. You've been fortunate enough to secure your spot due to your volunteering efforts and the fact that the manager, Naomi, seems to have taken a liking to you. But not everyone is so lucky.

You step inside, greeted by the familiar smells of disinfectant and something cooking in the kitchen. The place is buzzing with activity as usual—mothers trying to soothe crying children, elderly folks chatting away in groups, and a few lone souls quietly scrawling job applications.

"Long day?" Naomi catches your gaze from behind the front desk, her warm smile a stark contrast to the weariness etched in the lines of her face.

"Isn't it always?" You head over and pick up the clipboard she slides toward you, scanning your list of tasks for the day. As expected, it's long hours of mindless labor, but you don't mind. Not only do you need to earn your place here, but volunteering gives you a sense of purpose similar to your previous heavenly duties. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you're actually helping, not harming.

"First on the list," Naomi points to an item at the top of your clipboard, "is the donations room. We just had a big drop-off and could use some extra hands sorting through it all. But grab some dinner before you start, okay?"

You nod, her straightforward nature getting a slight smile out of you. "Yes, ma'am."

You navigate your way towards the crowded dining area, where a line of people has formed, waiting for their turn to get served. The cooks, all volunteers like yourself, are bustling about, serving portions of the day's meal which looks to be a thick stew accompanied by fresh bread. The food is simple but hearty, more than enough to keep you working through the evening. You make a mental note to slip into the kitchen later and thank them for their hard work.

You find an empty seat at one of the long tables that occupy the space, making yourself at home amongst the people who are engrossing themselves in their meals or with idle chatter. You even join in on a conversation with some older women across the table, who are engaged in a spirited debate about soap operas. Your knowledge of pop culture is sparse at best, but they seem delighted to fill you in on the latest drama, their laughter infectious.

After your meal, you make your way towards the donations room. The sight of piled-up clothes, toys, blankets, and other items is both overwhelming and heartwarming. Naomi wasn't kidding when she said they'd received a large drop-off. It's a daunting task, but you roll up your sleeves and get to work. You start by sorting through the clutter, meticulously separating everything into various categories—men's clothes, women's clothes, children's clothes, etc., and items that need repairs or cleaning. Hours pass by unnoticed, the rhythm of work almost meditative.

Your thoughts inevitably wander back to Jungkook. A pang of longing shoots through you. He was the one who would always be by your side when you had to perform menial tasks like this in the celestial realm. You wonder what he would think of your new life. Does he look down on you from up high with pity or disdain, or does he simply not think of you at all? You aren't sure if you even want to know the answer.

As time wears on, the room gradually becomes less cluttered and more organized. You're just about to take a break when Naomi appears at the doorway, her aging features softened by the warm glow of the hallway light behind her. She takes in your progress with an approving nod.

"You've done well," she says, stepping into the room.

You can't help but feel a sense of pride at her words. "Thank you, Naomi."

She strolls around the room, her observant gaze sweeping over the sorted piles, her hands touching a few items here and there.

"It's amazing," she finally says, "how much kindness there is out there, even when it seems like everything is falling apart. No matter how rough things get, we can choose to be generous, choose to help others. That's what makes us human."

Her words resonate with you. You’ve seen the worst and best of humanity firsthand; the same species that wages wars also unite in times of crisis, offering support and showing kindness to total strangers. How much is influenced by higher powers and how much is purely human nature, you wouldn't presume to know. Your very existence has blurred the lines between supernatural influence and mortal will.

"True," you say, looking up at Naomi from where you're still seated on the floor surrounded by donations. "That’s a nice way to look at things."

Naomi's smile broadens at that, and she gives one last cursory glance around the room before saying, "Well, I'll let you get back to work. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Naomi," you call after her as she steps out into the hallway, half-waving at you as she goes.

A little over an hour later, you step back to admire your work. Each item has been categorized, ready to be cleaned and redistributed. You move on to your next set of responsibilities: cleaning up the common areas and helping close up for the night.

The smell of cleaning supplies clings to your skin as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters—a small, shared room filled with single beds. Careful not to disturb anyone, you move towards your assigned bed, its familiar creaks and groans echoing softly under your weight as you settle into it. Exhaustion pulls at your muscles, but you need to wash up and change before you sleep.

You grab your shower caddy, change of clothes, and quietly make your way to the women’s bathroom. The fluorescent white lights flicker to life as you enter, revealing a row of curtained shower cubicles. You choose one at the end and let the water heat up as you undress. The hot water cascades over your tired body, soothing your muscles and washing away the sweat and grime that has built up throughout the day.

Shower done and teeth brushed, you pull on fresh clothes and make your way back to your bed. As you settle back down under the covers, you notice something strange on your bedsheet. A crisp scorch mark is visible against the fabric, and when you observe it more closely, you're shocked to realize that the shape almost looks like… fingers? Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Impossible," you whisper to yourself.

The sight of these burns is not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you have been the cause of such marks before. It is a common occurrence when celestial beings interact with the mortal world—remnants of their powerful energy left behind. But as you stare at them now, a sense of unease creeps over you. Could it be Jungkook? The thought flickers through your mind, but you quickly brush it aside. Why would he make himself known in this way and then vanish without even seeing you? You can't allow yourself to hope.

Dismissing the thought, you force yourself to rationalize that it must have been an accident. Perhaps someone burned it while it was being ironed. It’s easy enough to convince yourself; after all, it’s only three and a half slender marks—it could be anything. But the unease remains as you lay down on the bed, your mind filled with questions. You eventually succumb to sleep from sheer exhaustion, your dreams filled with memories of Jungkook.

The next day passes in a blur—the usual routine of job applications, food preparation, and cleaning duties. The burn mark on your bedsheet remains a mystery. You track down the volunteer who did the laundry, and she swears she wouldn't be so careless as to burn someone’s belongings. Despite her assurances, it's the only explanation you are willing to believe. You return to your bed to find that the sheet has been replaced with a fresh one, the burn mark gone as if it never existed.

You spot an older man sitting on a bed in the corner; his mouth moves silently, and the rosary beads dangling from his fingers lead you to believe he’s praying. A small, faux Christmas tree, no larger than a water bottle, stands on a box next to him. The sight stirs something with you, an uncomfortable feeling once again settling in your gut. You don’t understand his faith. How can someone continue to pray to a God that has obviously forsaken him?

You wait until the man finishes and safely tucks the rosary beads into his shirt pocket, right above his heart, before you approach.

“Excuse me?”

He looks up at you with a smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. "What can I help you with, dear?"

"I noticed you praying," you begin tentatively. Despite your personal qualms with religion, you don’t want to seem as if you are disrespecting him or his beliefs. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how do you keep your faith? Under these circumstances?"

He doesn't seem bothered at all by your blunt question. Instead, he chuckles softly and pats the bed beside him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitate a moment before complying.

"Faith isn't about having all the answers," he starts, his voice a mere whisper in the quiet room. "It isn't about being rewarded for good deeds or punished for bad ones. It's about hope. It's about believing that things will get better."

“Hope? Still? Despite… despite being here? I mean, aren’t you upset with God?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as well, a mixture of curiosity and frustration seeping into your words.

He remains silent for a while, his gaze wandering towards the small Christmas tree on the box beside him.

"No, I'm not upset with God," he finally replies. "Man is given free will, and it is man who chooses what to do with it. Crisis, poverty… God didn't create these. They're the consequences of human choices." His words are sincere, spoken with a calmness that only comes from years of contemplation. "God doesn't promise us that life will always be easy or free from hardships. But He does promise that He will be there in those times of trouble. You see, faith isn't about expecting God to fix our problems, but about having the strength to face them."

“I envy your strength,” you admit with a hint of admiration in your voice.

“Strength is born from struggle, dear. You’ll find your way soon enough.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The conversation lingers in your mind long after the man's words have faded into silence. You sit on your bunk, staring at the ceiling, pondering them. His unshakable faith is both alien and inspiring to you. Even when you were an archangel, before any doubts seeped into your mind, your faith was nothing like his. It was a duty, an obligation, a resolute certainty that was less about personal beliefs and more about the world you were born into.

His mention of hope sticks out to you the most. You look around the room again, taking note of the different symbols of faith scattered across the room—crosses, menorahs, and even a small prayer mat in one corner. Each person in this room believes in something larger than themselves, something that gives them hope. And you? You're not certain what you believe in anymore. But maybe, just maybe, some of your anger has been misplaced.

As the daylight fades, you find yourself wandering outside, the crisp evening air bringing a kind of comfort you couldn't find inside. You walk aimlessly, your feet following the now-familiar sidewalks. You end up in a park, and you make a seat for yourself on a deserted bench.

Looking up into the sky, now painted with hues of orange and pink, you let yourself miss Heaven for just a minute. To miss Jungkook. Even the Creator. You can never go back to worshipping Him, nor do you want to, but you can't deny the connection that once was. As much as you wish everything never happened, you are grateful for how much you've grown since.

Suddenly, you’re disoriented by a bright flash of light and a shrill, piercing sound that makes your entire body jolt. You shut your eyes and cover your ears, but it does nothing to dull the pain. It's as if the noise is coming from inside your mind. You half-crawl, half-fall off the bench, curling in on yourself, unable to think anything, do anything, until it finally comes to a stop.

The world pauses around you; the birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, and people are frozen where they walk. A familiar feeling washes over you, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Even in this form, even as a human, his presence calls to your very soul. You hadn’t realized how incomplete you felt, how empty you were, without him by your side. He’s your other half, and he always will be. The realization makes you want to cry. You had hoped after the Fall, after you became human, that would cease to be true. You can’t stand the fact that you’re still irrevocably tied to him, even after all that he’s done. As always, fate is cruel.

“Y/N.”

He speaks your name with a quiet reverence as if he can hardly believe you’re there in front of him. The familiar, honeyed tone of his voice reignites your longing for him with full force, but you still stubbornly keep your eyes closed. You can’t look at him. You aren’t strong enough.

“I cannot believe you are alive.”

What?

His statement shocks you enough that your eyes fly open of their own accord, and for the first time in months, you're met with the sight of Jungkook. You're not sure if you perceive him differently now that you are mortal, but he's even more captivating than you remember.

His dark hair curls softly atop his head and is tousled ever-so-perfectly. His skin is beautifully tanned, and the way his tall figure is silhouetted against the sun makes it seem like he's glowing. His wings are obsidian, gargantuan in size, seemingly consuming the entire park with their reach. He's magnificent, so beautiful it hurts.

But it is his eyes that have you frozen in your spot—those beautiful, brown doe eyes, filled with so much emotion that it takes your breath away. He's not supposed to be able to feel unless… unless he has begun the degradation process, as you had.

“Y/N,” he repeats, his voice trembling. "I thought you were dead."

“I don't understand,” you manage to choke out, trying to sound more composed than you feel. You pull yourself to your feet, grimacing at the pain radiating throughout your body. How much of it is physical and how much is emotional, you can't tell.

He takes a step closer to you, his hands outstretched as if to ensure that you're real, but you recoil instinctively. He flinches at your reaction but still grabs your arms, grip unrelenting even as you attempt to pull away from him.

“Protective markings have been burned onto your ribs.” Hurt flashes across his features. “Were you hiding from me?”

“What? No.” You manage to break free and back up a few steps, putting some distance between you. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, remembering how he always seemed to know what you were thinking even before you did. "I didn't even know I had them."

"I need you to explain everything," he demands.

“You need me to explain?" You scoff and cross your arms over your chest defensively. "What about you?”

“Me?” He tilts his head slightly, his confusion obvious.

“Yes, you!" You take a step closer, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "After all, you’re how I ended up in this situation, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

"You betrayed me!" you hiss. “I confided in you, and you told me you understood. That you were with me. And then you turned around and proclaimed me a blasphemer!”

He doesn’t respond right away, and it’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his head as he pieces things together. “Y/N… I would never.”

His admittance makes you pause. Angels aren’t supposed to lie, though you know not everyone abides by that law. However, Jungkook has always been one of the most dedicated to the commandments.

“That’s not what Namsu told me.”

“Namsu? The Throne?”

“Yes, the Throne. The one who exiled me on the orders of up high.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You… were exiled? You did not wither?”

"Wither?" you scoff. "That's a myth, Jungkook. A cover-up to hide the fact that when angels start to stand up for what they think is right, they get cast out. And it's thanks to you that I'm here now."

"I… no." The intensity behind the word takes you aback. "I just wanted to help you; I thought you were sick. I went to one of the Cherubim for guidance—I would have never turned you in for some kind of punishment."

His words hang in the air, making your heart pound in your chest. He was trying to help you? The thought sends a flurry of conflicting emotions through you.

"Help me?" You repeat his words, mocking him in your disbelief. "Your way of helping got me exiled! Cast down and made mortal."

"I did not—" He cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Yet it did!" you snap, crossing your arms tightly around yourself as if they could somehow shield you from the pain his presence brings. "And now I'm here, and nothing will ever be the same!"

"I am so sorry." His apology is whispered so softly that you almost don't catch it. But you do, and it hits you like a punch in the gut.

Your head feels as if it's about to implode. He didn't purposefully betray you—in fact, he was trying to save you. But even so, his actions have led to your downfall, and now you're stuck here on earth, far from the light of Heaven, vulnerable and mortal, while he remains immortal and untouchable. Perhaps that's the part that hurts the most. The fact that now you are separated not by betrayal but by the very nature of your beings.

Your voice cracks as tears fill your eyes. "If all this is true, then why wouldn’t you have looked for me?”

“I looked everywhere at first, but I could not sense you anymore.” If it was possible, you think he would be crying too. “Namsu is the one who told me what happened. He said that you… that your doubt consumed you, and you did not survive.”

The information hits you like a ton of bricks. Your knees almost give out for a second time, but Jungkook reaches out and grabs you by the elbows, steadying you.

"I… I had no idea." A bitter laugh escapes your lips as you look up at him. "You didn't know anything, and I presumed the worst of you."

His fingers tighten around your arms in a reassuring squeeze. "We can always start over, Y/N."

"Start over?" you echo, incredulous. "You make it sound so easy."

"And why would it not be? We were not the ones to blame for our separation. Come back with me."

"I'm human now. The only way I can come back is… is if I'm dead."

His grip loosens, his face paling at your words. "I did not mean to suggest… Of course, I do not want you to die," he hastily corrects himself, glancing down at the ground. His wings flutter uneasily behind him, betraying his discomfort. "There must be another way."

"If there was, would it even be safe? I mean, why would Namsu do this?" you ask, staring at him. You're not sure if you're asking him or simply musing aloud. Even so, the question hangs heavily in the silence between you.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jungkook speaks again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, "I wish I had the answers you seek, but I don't. All I know is that I will do everything in my power to rectify this situation." He turns away from you, scanning the horizon as if searching for something. "I need to return and confront Namsu. He must account for his actions."

"No, it's too dangerous. What if he forces you to Fall, too? You can't risk it, Jungkook."

He looks back at you, his expression hardening. "I will not let him get away with this, Y/N," he says resolutely. "Deception is not a virtue of a Throne, especially not in such grave matters."

"And you won't let him, but you need to go about this carefully. Going to him directly won't work—he's too powerful."

Jungkook tilts his head, regarding you skeptically. "It almost sounds as if you are asking me to be deceitful."

"Not deceitful, just… stealthy?"

He doesn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowed as he mulls over your words. After a moment, he exhales slowly, pulling back from you to pace the grass in thought. "Stealthy," he repeats slowly, his voice distant. "That would require careful planning. Secret meetings. Misdirection."

"Yes," you agree, watching him closely. "All of that."

He stops suddenly, turning to look at you. "Very well. I will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this."

Your chest tightens, and you gnaw at your bottom lip. His resolve both comforts and worries you. You don't want him to risk himself for you, but part of you is happy that he is willing.

"However,” Jungkook breaks your train of thought. "It sounds like I may need to be a little bit more human to pull this off. After all, none of this comes easily to angels, but mortals lie all the time."

You raise an eyebrow. "And how are you going to achieve that?"

"You will have to teach me, of course." He says this as if doing so will be the easiest thing in the world. “The degradation process has already started for me, as I am sure you are aware. It should be easy.”

"You're serious?"

Jungkook had always been so straight-laced, the epitome of angelic perfection. The idea of him playing at being human is almost laughable.

"Completely," he responds, his intense gaze never wavering. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring Namsu to justice and try to fix this. Fix us. If that requires adopting some mortal habits, then so be it."

"Alright," you finally concede, shaking your head in amusement. "Time for a crash course in 'how to be a human' 101."

He smiles faintly at that, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards just so. It's a small thing, barely noticeable amidst the tension still hanging heavily in the air between you two, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that the way you felt about him in Heaven, despite not being able to feel, was some kind of love. You don't know where that leaves you now or what you're going to do about it, but procrastination is another human skill you have come to love. Maybe you'll teach him that eventually.

"Lesson one," you start, pointing a finger at him in mock sternness. "Humans don't always speak so formally or in such grandiose phrases. ‘I am going to bring Namsu to justice' sounds archaic or like something a two-bit superhero would say."

His lips quirk upward into a more genuine smile this time. "I see," he replies, his voice deliberately casual. "So how would a human say it?"

"Well, for starters, you could use slang," you suggest.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an almost comical look of concentration on his face. “Slang,” he repeats, testing the word on his tongue.

“Yes, slang. Humans don’t always pronounce every single word, and they often come up with new, shorter words to replace certain phrases. You could say something like, 'Namsu’s gonna get what he deserves.'”

He nods, repeating your words slowly. “Namsu... is going to get what he deserves.”

You burst out laughing at his attempt. The prim, stoic angel fumbling his way through human speech? It is truly a sight to behold.

"Laughing at my expense?" He feigns hurt, but there's a playful twinkle in his eyes that gives him away. "I guess that's lesson two then: humans are full of mirth and mockery."

"You're catching on quickly," you reply, still giggling slightly. “And yes, we like to laugh.”

He observes you a moment longer before finally allowing a soft chuckle to escape his lips. It's a deep, rich sound, but it feels tentative like he's not quite sure if he's doing it right.

“Laughing…" he murmurs, puzzling over the concept. “Such a peculiar expression of joy. But I like it."

"As you should," you reply, a grin still playing across your face. "It's one of the best parts about being human."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "It suits you."

"Hm? What does?"

"Being human."

"I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

"There is a certain spontaneity in humans. A vibrancy that angels lack." Jungkook’s gaze intensifies, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he steps closer. "It makes you shine more brightly. Like the sun."

He's so close to you now that you can make out the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words wash over you, warming you from the inside out.

"That—" You clear your throat, trying to steady your shaking voice. "That sounds like a compliment."

"It is," he confirms, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a brief second before rising back to meet your eyes. "But it is also an observation. A fact."

You want to kiss him. The thought shocks you—you've never kissed someone before, let alone wanted to. It must be a human impulse. You can't help but imagine what it might feel like, the warmth of his lips against yours, his skin beneath your fingertips. You want to feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. But the danger of your respective positions impedes that thought, and you push it down. He's an angel. You're not. Him being your Astrom, the connection you had before your Fall, none of it matters now.

"Okay," you manage to squeak out, trying to ignore the electricity that seems to be sparking between your too-close bodies. "Human lesson number three: we're big on personal space."

"Oh?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow but doesn't step away. "Is this too close?"

You swallow hard. "A bit."

You swear you see a hint of mischievousness cross his features before he complies, stepping back just enough to leave a sliver of space between you. "Better?"

"Now you're just teasing me," you retort, though there's a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Is that frowned upon?"

"No," you admit. "In fact, it's quite human of you. Now, it’s time for a real challenge." He looks at you quizzically. "We have to convince Naomi to let you stay at the shelter."

"Ah," he nods, understanding dawning on him. "I see. Another part of being human—negotiation."

"Exactly."

"Then lead the way." With a snap of his fingers, time resumes for the two of you and his wings have disappeared, making him appear fully human, and you head back to Lost Star.

"Naomi, please," you beg, giving your boss the best puppy eyes you can muster. "He needs a place to stay."

Naomi crosses her arms over her chest and drags her gaze over Jungkook in a way that suggests she's scrutinizing every cell of his being, from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. "There's no extra beds, hun. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

"Then he can stay with me!"

"You and him, sharing that tiny little twin bed?" She scoffs. "I'd like to see you try."

"We'll make it work!"

"It's still against the rules. One body to one bed."

"I know it's not ideal, but just for a few days until we figure out something else," you urge her. "I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't important."

Jungkook steps forward, interjecting smoothly, "I will respect the rules, and if you feel my presence is harmful or disruptive in any way, I will leave immediately."

Naomi looks between you and Jungkook, and then she sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Fine, but only for a little while. And you can't sleep in the main room. Take my office—the couch is a pull-out."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You pull her into a hug that she returns with a loving exasperation.

"If there's even a whiff of trouble, both of you are gone, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am! I wouldn't expect anything less."

You grab Jungkook’s hand, dragging him along behind you as you lead him through the shelter. You pass through some of the busier living areas, and it's as if everyone can’t help but stare at him. You can only assume that, despite his wings being hidden, he still emits some sort of otherworldly aura that draws people in. Plus, by human standards, you suppose he's quite attractive.

Jungkook seems unbothered by the attention, too focused on his surroundings and curiously taking in every detail.

"All these people live here?" he asks, incredulous. "This place is quite small."

"Shh! Lesson four: lower your voice when you're talking about other people. The last thing we need is for someone to overhear and think you're judging them."

"Apologies," Jungkook replies, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But my previous comment was not meant to be judgmental. I’m just… surprised. I thought humans usually lived in family units, but everyone here doesn't seem to be related."

I’m. Doesn’t. He’s already using contractions—you must either be a good teacher or he’s a quick learner.

"You're right," you agree, and as you glance around, your heart aches a little. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that. This place is for those who have lost their families or homes."

"Lost their homes? Like in a fire?"

"Sometimes. Or maybe they didn't have enough money to pay their taxes."

"I don't understand. Are there not enough homes for everyone? Why do you need to pay for such a basic need?"

You pause, the innocence of his question hitting you surprisingly hard. Of course he wouldn't understand the complexities of human society, of money and social class, of poverty and wealth disparity. You didn't either; at least, not until you Fell and were forced to figure it out.

"That is a complicated issue," you admit, running a hand through your hair. "And not all humans agree on how to solve it. Some people think everyone should have a home, regardless of whether or not they can pay for it. Others think that if you can't afford it, you don't deserve one."

He looks so confused that you would be tempted to laugh if the tone of the conversation wasn't so serious. "That doesn't seem fair. In heaven, everyone has a place."

"Yes, well, Earth isn't heaven." There's a bitterness to your words that you hadn't intended. "And why our Creator chooses to leave things like this is a mystery to me. I mean, why not use some of His power to help?"

"The ways of the Almighty are impossible for us to understand," Jungkook quietly replies. "And it's not for us to question."

You snort in response, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, aren't you a dutiful little angel?"

Jungkook frowns, clearly not understanding your sarcasm. You sigh and shake your head.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. It's just hard to wrap my head around sometimes. It's why my so-called degradation process started in the first place. Look at them—" You gesture to the people huddled together around the small television in the corner of the room, others sharing a meal or helping to care for the younger children. "They're good people. Why do they deserve to suffer?"

Silence lingers between you for a moment. When he responds, he doesn’t answer your question. “Their heavenly rewards shall be plentiful as long as they keep to their faith.”

“Does that make all of this okay?" You scoff. "Why are they being tested like this? In fact, why do they even need to believe at all to be given a home in the celestial realm? If a person is good-hearted, why isn’t that enough?”

Jungkook looks away from you. "I don't like these questions."

“You don’t like them? Or you don’t like how uncomfortable they make you feel?”

Before he can even bother replying, you let go of his hand and open the door to Naomi's office, hurrying inside, eager to get some space. It's small and cramped, filled with stacks of paper, an old wooden desk strewn with an old computer and various office supplies, and a well-worn couch wedged against the wall.

"It's not much," you say. "But it's home for now, I guess."

"Home," Jungkook repeats softly, eyes scanning the room. He zeroes in the billboard behind Naomi's desk, filled with photos of smiling people, letters from those that she has helped. A smile tugs at his lips. "It's nice."

"You say that now. Just wait until you're trying to sleep and a couch spring is digging into your back."

"I don't actually need to sleep," he reminds you.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Right, I forgot. At least we won't be fighting for the blanket."

"I can pretend to," Jungkook offers, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "The idea of laying next to you is not unwelcome."

You blush, taken aback. "W-what… you…" You take a deep breath. "No, that won't be necessary. And lesson five: don't flirt with people unless you mean it."

"What is 'flirt’?”

"Flirting," you explain, trying to keep your blush under control, "is when people say or do things that suggest they're attracted to each other."

"I see." He pauses for just a moment before asking, "And how do I know if I'm attracted to someone?"

You sigh exasperatedly. Who knew teaching an angel to be human could be so tiring?

"It's… well, it's kind of hard to explain. Especially because, as an angel, you don't really feel, at least not until the degradation process is nearing its end. But basically, it's like you have an inexplicable urge to be around this person a lot. You think about them often, their happiness makes you happy, and you want to be closer to them, maybe even touch them or hold them. Some people also might feel their heart beat faster, or a fluttering in their stomach."

As you speak, Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. They gleam with curiosity and understanding, drinking in every word you say. He seems to be processing the concept, and then he suddenly smiles. "So, like how I feel about you."

Caught off-guard, you blink at him, speechless for a moment. And then the panic seeps in.

"No, Jungkook, that's not correct," you insist, your words tumbling out in haste and denial. "You can't… we can't… you're an angel. I'm—" Fallen, you want to say. Human, you need to say. But you don't.

"Why not?" he asks simply, his gaze steady.

"Because!" You scramble for an explanation, desperate to avoid the truth of your own feelings stirring within you. "Because angels aren't supposed to feel that way."

"But I am no longer a pure angel," Jungkook counters. "The degradation process has begun. We discussed this already."

"But that doesn't matter! The whole reason we are doing this is so you can learn the skills you need to figure out a way to stop Namsu from forcing anyone else to Fall. Once you do, you'll be able to stay in Heaven because withering isn't real." Before he can say anything else, you open the door. "I'm gonna grab my stuff from my bed. I'll… I'll be back in a second."

You slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook alone in the room. It's a struggle to keep your composure as you head towards your bed. All you can think of is his words, the nonchalance with which he said them. You can feel your traitorous heart yearning for him, but you can't let it sway you. Whether it was an accident or not, his betrayal led to your Fall. Led to you being human. And he's an angel. No matter what you feel or what he thinks he feels, nothing can happen between you now.

As you gather your meager belongings, the man you spoke with earlier approaches you with a sympathetic expression. "You alright, dear? You didn't get evicted, did you? I'll give Naomi a piece of mind if that's the case."

"No, no," you quickly reassure him with a forced smile. "My… my friend needs a place to stay for awhile, and there's a one body to one bed policy. Naomi was kind enough to let us use the couch in her office for a few days until we figure something else out."

"Your friend, hm?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "That fellow you walked in with? Can't say I blame you. He's quite a looker."

"It's not like that," you blush, hurriedly stuffing the rest of your belongings into your bag. "Anyway, don't worry. You'll still see me around."

The man grins and gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. This place would be much drearier without you."

You bid him goodbye with a wave and make your way back to Naomi's office, feeling like you're walking towards the edge of a cliff. As you open the door, you find Jungkook staring out the window. The streetlight spills in through the gap in the curtains, bathing him in a soft glow. He turns as you enter.

"Gathered your belongings?" he asks, his voice calm as if the previous conversation never happened. For a moment, you feel robbed—does he not understand the gravity of what he said? But you suppose it's better this way. Easier, at least.

"Yes," you respond, a bit more brusquely than intended, setting your bag down on the floor. He's still staring at you, and you flush under his gaze. "I'm just going to set up the couch. And stop staring at me so intently. Humans get nervous about stuff like that."

"Another lesson," he remarks. "Understood." Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then turns back to the window without a word.

You get to work, unfolding the couch and covering it with your bedding. The silence between you is thick; you can feel the tension radiating off of Jungkook despite his apparent calm. Your heart pounds in your ears as you busy yourself with smoothing out some wrinkles in the sheets, a futile distraction.

With a deep breath, you break the silence. "Alright, I'm done."

Jungkook turns to look, and his eyes scan the makeshift bed you've prepared. "You've made it look inviting."

"Should be okay for a few nights," you reply curtly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm, uh, gonna go ready for bed. I know you don't sleep, but feel free to sit at her desk or something. Make yourself comfortable."

You exit the room and head down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. You can’t shake off his confession and your own rush to deny him. The truth of your feelings, or rather the depth of them, is something you aren't ready to face.

After getting ready for bed, you hesitantly return to Naomi's office. The door creaks upon opening, and Jungkook turns from where he's seated at Naomi's desk, looking up at you with his intense gaze.

"Goodnight," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray how uneasy you feel.

Jungkook nods. "Goodnight," he replies, and his voice is gentle, concerned. You feel a pang of guilt at the distance you've created between the two of you but say nothing more, falling into a fitful sleep.

Sometime during the night, Jungkook figured out how to work Naomi's dinosaur of a computer and discovered the wonderful thing that is the internet. When you wake, he flocks to your side like an excited child, eager to share everything he has learned about humans, their emotions, and their behavior.

"Slow down, Jungkook," you chuckle, holding up a hand to halt his barrage of words. "I can't absorb all of that at once."

"Oh," he says, blinking in surprise. "I forget that human minds process information more slowly. Should I take this as another lesson?"

You shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Sure, go for it."

Despite the tension last night and everything unsaid between the two of you, you find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with him. He's eager to learn and keen on understanding humanity—your humanity. Throughout the day, he continues his studies, glued to the computer screen as you complete your daily volunteering. He takes breaks every once in a while to come find you and ask questions.

"I've come across some terms that are perplexing," he says, leaning on the front desk as you catalog some information. "'Memes' and 'emojis' appear prominently in human interactions online, but I don’t really know what they are or how they’re used.”

You answer question after question until you realize you aren’t getting work done, so you have to come up with a plan B. Leading him back to Naomi’s office, you pull up Netflix on the computer. Jungkook watches the screen in fascination as you explain streaming and scroll through all the shows.

"Let's try Friends," you say, clicking on the thumbnail.

You leave him to watch as you finish up your tasks for the day, checking occasionally to see that he’s still engrossed in the show. Instead of constantly badgering you with questions, he writes them on a notepad you provided and waits until the end of the day to go over them with you. You answer each one as best you can, completely endeared by him.

It's during one of the show's more depressing moments that he asks you about lying and betrayal, echoing the heavy undertones from the other day. His question takes you by surprise, his gaze focused intensely on your face as he waits for an answer.

"Lying is a tough one," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Sometimes it's out of fear or selfishness. Sometimes people lie because they're trying to protect themselves."

"And betrayal?" Jungkook asks, his voice unnaturally calm.

You sigh, looking down at your hands. "Betrayal… it's when someone breaks your trust. It hurts, Jungkook. It hurts a lot."

He watches you for several long moments before finally speaking again. "I see," he says softly. "And that's what you thought I did to you?"

You swallow hard, feeling the knot in your chest tighten. "Jungkook," you start, but falter, not knowing how to put your feelings into words.

"I did not mean to betray you," Jungkook continues. "I realize that my actions may have led you to believe that I deceived you, but it was not my intention. I'm sorry."

"I know." You believe him completely, but the wound is still so fresh that you can’t bring yourself to fully trust him again. Not yet. "I know you didn't mean to, but an apology doesn't fix everything. Consider it another lesson—trust, once broken, isn't so easily mended."

Jungkook plays with the skin around his nails, an anxious habit he seems to be developing the more human-like he becomes. After a moment, he says, "I understand. I will try harder."

"Try harder doing what?"

"To understand you better. To understand all humans more, their emotions and their beliefs. Maybe understanding what trust really is will teach me how to earn it back and make up for my mistakes." He's so earnest, so genuine, it almost brings tears to your eyes. "I think I want this as much as I want Namsu to answer for his crimes, if not more. And maybe that makes little sense, but maybe… maybe that's quite human of me."

"And maybe that's progress," you say softly, looking at Jungkook with newfound hope.

Your new normal is spending your days with your time split between performing your volunteering duties and teaching Jungkook all about human life.

Christmas is only a week away now, and everyone around you seems to be buzzing with excitement. At this point, even the inside of the shelter has been decorated. The hallways are lined with lights and garlands, and the common areas even have a few trees set up with donated presents underneath. And, as much as you have dreaded the holiday, you can't deny that watching Jungkook experience it for the first time makes you hate it a little less.

Despite the initial stiffness that comes with being an angel unfamiliar with human life, he has quickly adapted to life at the shelter. He's kind and patient, and he’s always eager to help out where he can. The children, in particular, have taken a liking to him. He's become their favorite storyteller and always has the kids hanging onto his every word.

One afternoon, you find him sitting with them, singing a song in an ancient celestial language. Everyone will assume it’s some gibberish language he’s made up for one of his stories, but it reminds you of home. His voice is beautiful, melodic and soothing, with a honeyed quality to it that would make anyone stop and listen.

You stand in the doorway and watch, a smile tugging at your lips. He catches your eye and winks, the action so human and unexpected that it startles a laugh out of you. The children turn to see what's so funny, but you just shake your head, telling them to continue listening.

He comes to you when he finishes, smiling brightly. "Did you enjoy the song as well?"

"I did," you reply truthfully, your heart fluttering at his attention. The feelings you have been trying to resist are becoming increasingly persistent the more time you spend with him.

"That's good to hear.”

Suddenly, the kids clamor over to you both, giggling and pointing at something above you. You look up, and all the color drains from your face. Mistletoe. Who the hell put it here?

Jungkook looks between you and the mistletoe, obviously confused. “Why are you angry with that plant? It’s quite beautiful.”

“It’s a tradition, of sorts.” You say the word with disdain. “When a couple—not that we are one—walks under the mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.”

“Kiss?”

“We don’t have to, it’s stupid—”

“No, let’s do it. It's a part of the human experience, right? Let's consider it another lesson."

Heat rushes to your face, and you stutter incoherently, looking around the room for a way to escape. But the children are watching expectantly, their eyes wide and eager. You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Alright… close your eyes," you tell him.

He listens obediently, his eyes fluttering closed. You had never noticed just how long and pretty his eyelashes were until now. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath and lean in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you're greeted with a perplexed expression as he opens his eyes.

"That was nice," he says after a brief pause. "But that’s really what a kiss is? In the show, they did it a bit more like—"

He leans in to demonstrate what he means, his lips brushing against yours. It's soft and a bit awkward at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, pulling you closer. Against your better judgment, you let him, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. His lips are softer than you would have expected. His fingers lightly squeeze your waist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and it's not until you hear some of the children giggling that you are reminded you have an audience.

You quickly pull away, breathless and flushed with embarrassment. Jungkook, however, is grinning from ear to ear. "That," he says. "That is how they did it."

"Again! Again!" one of the kids shouts, pulling at your arm.

Jungkook chuckles at his enthusiasm. "I think we should get back to our story," he says, ruffling the boy’s hair lovingly. Then, turning back to you, he murmurs, "Thank you. For the lesson."

You can barely speak coherently, but you manage to squeak out a small “you’re welcome” before rushing out of the room. How on Earth are you supposed to get your tasks done now? It's impossible to focus, your mind running in circles over his touch, the feel of his lips against yours.

When you return to Naomi’s office later that night, you’re relieved to see that Jungkook isn't there yet. You take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and process your thoughts, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over your lips. A shiver passes through your body, a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach. You drop your hand, clenching it into a fist to stop the trembling.

"Nervous?" a voice asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Jungkook is standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"I… no," you say.

"Don't lie," he chides gently, sitting next to you on the bed. “I can tell when you do that now, you know.” He keeps to a respectful distance, but he turns his gaze to you. “I think I'm starting to really understand this human thing. Emotions and all that.”

"Is that so?"

"Yes. They can be painful sometimes but also quite beautiful."

You watch as he turns his gaze back towards the room, and silence stretches between you again. However, it’s different now from how it used to be; it's not awkward or unsettling, but comfortable. His vulnerability makes you want to be honest, to admit to the way you feel.

Just as you’re about to say something, he continues, "But now it's time for me to learn about something else. I need to start strategizing for the coming confrontation."

"Right, Namsu," you say. You almost forgot about Jungkook’s original intentions. You clap your hands and get up, heading to the computer. "Alright. Let's research."

With Jungkook sufficiently prepared, the time soon comes for him to return to the celestial realm. However, he insists on leaving at night, so he can spend the day with you. He referred to it as "a date," and you practically tripped over your own feet, much to his enjoyment. He has certainly developed a penchant for teasing you.

You decide to take him into the heart of the city, so he can observe people in their natural element. There seem to be even more decorations than you remember, and people are bustling about to finish their last-minute shopping. However, you find yourself handling the chaos a lot better with Jungkook by your side.

He hasn't let go of your hand since you stepped out of the shelter, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over your knuckles. Every once in a while, he squeezes it lightly, a silent assurance that he’s there. Whether he notices your nerves and is doing it to comfort you or is doing it because he wants to, you're grateful for it.

His doe eyes dart this way and that, eagerly drinking in the scenery. You try to explain what everything is—the office buildings, luxury apartments, and tiny shops buried in alleyways—but he's more interested in the people. It isn't until you stop in front of a Hindu temple that his attention is finally captured by a building. He cocks his head to the side, eyes wide in wonder as he takes in the sight of it. The temple is a beautiful structure, with elaborate carvings and statues lining its walls.

"What is this place?" he asks, his voice full of awe.

"It's a place of worship for those that practice Hinduism," you explain.

His eyes sparkle with interest as he takes a step closer to the building. "Can we go inside?"

You glance at him, surprised by his request. But something in his earnest gaze breaks down your hesitation. "Sure," you say softly, leading him inside.

The inside of the temple is even more impressive than the outside. There are vibrant murals depicting different gods and an intoxicating scent of incense that fills the air. You gesture to the bell at the entrance. “Would you like to ring it?”

“What’s it for?” he asks, picking it up gently.

“It’s supposed to be a way to announce your arrival to the deities.”

Jungkook shakes it, the twinkling of the bell echoing in the large room. “Pretty,” he remarks as he places it back where it belongs.

He then follows your lead as you move towards the main shrine, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize what you're about to do. An angel of the Christian God at the altar of a different one? You're almost afraid you'll be struck down where you stand.

He takes in the offerings with a small smile. "It's all quite beautiful," he remarks. "It's a shame that their gods aren't real."

You know Jungkook means no harm and that it is what he has been conditioned to think for thousands of years, but you still bristle at his easy dismissal of their beliefs. “We’re real. Our God is real. Who’s to say the gods of their religion are not?”

"There is one God. That is what we were taught."

"Yes, it is. But we were also led to believe the withering was real. Just because it is said does not mean that it is true.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment, eyes still fixed on the offerings. Then he turns to you. "You truly believe that?"

"I don't know," you confess, feeling a little exposed. “I don't know what I believe anymore. I'm just… questioning. It's complicated."

"You have given me a lot to think about," he admits, his tone quiet. “For all I know, you might be right. I shouldn't have dismissed their beliefs so easily. I apologize.”

You stare at him in surprise; you hadn't expected him to back down so easily. "It's okay," you reassure him. "I'd say being open-minded is another lesson, but unfortunately, not all humans are."

You continue to walk around the city, introducing Jungkook to as many things as possible. Everything he does fills you with affection, whether it be him trying hot dogs from a street vendor and declaring them divine, or joining some kids who were playing soccer in a park. At one point, he kicks the ball so hard that it lands in a tree branch, and you can’t help but laugh as he clumsily climbs up to retrieve it.

When night falls, you end up at the pier, watching the shimmering water beneath the stars. Jungkook is oddly quiet, looking out at the horizon with a distant expression. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but it does leave you feeling a little uneasy. You reach for his hand, and he startles slightly before turning to look at you.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.

He smiles slightly. “I’m guessing that’s some sort of human expression, and you’re not actually going to give me a penny.”

“You would be correct.”

“I’m thinking about a lot of things.” He exhales as if letting out a breath he has been holding. "You, for one. But I'm always thinking of you so that much isn't a surprise." You blush and swat at his arm. "But I’m also thinking about my beliefs."

"What about them?"

He takes a moment to get his thoughts in order, grabbing your hand more tightly as if you're his anchor in a stormy sea. He answers your question with another. "What if everything we have been taught is wrong? I mean, we have never spoken with the Almighty directly. Angels, apostles, they can all take His words and twist them for their own purposes. We've seen it in action with Namsu, and with how the Bible has been changed to promote hatred."

You're taken aback by his frankness, the depth of his vulnerability. You have no answers for him, but you can relate to him and offer what little understanding you have come to have.

"So maybe it is wrong, and things have gotten taken out of context or changed as the years have gone on. Like you said, we cannot talk to Him, so we can’t ask for the truth. Or, maybe it is all part of a bigger plan, and unwavering faith is the answer.” You pause, steeling your resolve, before continuing, “But it isn’t for me. I can’t live that way. But how you decide to live is your choice. Who you are is your choice. I cannot decide that for you, and neither can He.”

He frowns. "I don't know how to make that choice. Who even am I? What am I without my purpose? Without Him?"

"Perhaps we're not defined by a single purpose we've been given," you answer quietly. "Maybe we're more than that."

"More than our purpose?"

"Yeah," you say, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe we don't need a purpose. Maybe it's okay to just exist."

Jungkook’s gaze turns thoughtful, considering your words as if they are the most precious thing in the world. "Just exist," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment, he stands up, looking at you with a newfound fire blazing in his eyes. "I need to return. I will talk to some of my confidants, gather information, and then confront Namsu."

You knew it was coming, but your stomach still drops. You're scared for him, for what will happen when he leaves. But you see the determination in his eyes, the steel in his gaze. You know better than to try and stop him now.

"You'll be careful, right?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

"I will."

He pulls you up and envelops you in his arms. His embrace is comforting, protective, and for a brief moment, it makes you forget about all your worries.

"Promise me," you whisper into his chest.

"I promise," he says, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. He pulls away after a moment, but not before brushing his lips against your temple. "I will return. For you."

His words weigh heavy in the air as he pulls away fully, breaking the physical contact between you two. His gaze lingers on you for another moment before he turns away and disappears into the night. You're left standing on the pier alone, the cold wind making you shiver. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you head back to Lost Star, where you have nothing to do but wait.

It’s Christmas Eve before you know it. The holiday you have been dreading feels even worse with Jungkook’s absence, and frankly, you don’t know how to handle it. You plaster a smile on your face for the sake of the children, playing along with their excitement over what presents they are going to get and stories of Santa Claus. But every time someone brings Jungkook up, wondering where he is, you feel tempted to run to Naomi’s office and hide.

Speaking of Naomi, she has been keeping a close watch over you, mothering you as per usual. You know she can tell that something has happened. Once you step away from the festivities to do some of your work, she pulls you aside.

“Honey, what’s going on? These days you seem so out of it; you’re just flitting around room to room, acting like a ghost.” When you don’t answer, she frowns. “It’s because of that boy, isn’t it?”

"He… he needed to go home. He had some things he needed to figure out," you manage to say. It's not a lie, just an oversimplification of the truth.

She wraps an arm around you. "He's going to come back. I saw the way he looked at you, and you at him. And if he doesn't, well, screw him."

"Naomi!"

"Sorry, sorry. He was sweet and all, but you're my girl. I'll always have your back." Naomi declares, patting you on the back.

You accept her comfort, fighting back your tears. If only she knew your fear didn’t revolve around him coming back—of course, part of you is scared that something will happen to him, but the rational part of your brain, the part that knows his strength, has no doubts he'll be alright. In actuality, your biggest fear is that he won't be able to stay with you, and you’ll have to go through the pain of losing him all over again.

He's an angel. You're human. There's no future there. Your traitorous heart made you fall harder and harder for him without sparing that a moment's thought, and now you have to will yourself to accept that you'll always be in love with someone you cannot have.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, nothing but forced cheer and mindless chatter. Naomi sticks by your side as much as she can, making sure to redirect everyone who asks you questions about Jungkook. You're grateful for her presence, her constant support, and now more than ever, you realize how lucky you truly are to have her in your life.

As soon as everyone is in bed and your tasks for the day are done, you seek out the solitude of the pier once again. You've been coming here daily since he left. A sentimental thing, mostly, since it was the last place you saw him. But you also hope each night will be the night he returns.

The wind is strong tonight, the kind that chills you down to your bones, and the stars are hidden behind the clouds. You wrap your scarf more tightly around yourself, gazing aimlessly at the turbulent water. Suddenly, there's a bright light and a shrill noise. You aren't scared this time, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as it was. He must have tempered it somehow, made it less painful for you.

The light fades, leaving behind a figure that is unmistakably Jungkook. The sight of him fills you with such relief and happiness that you rush forward, throwing your arms around him. He envelops you in his arms, his wings folding around you, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he buries his face in your hair.

"I missed you very much," he says, breathing deeply.

"I missed you too," you whisper, tears prickling at your eyes. "I knew you'd come back."

"I said I would, didn't I?" he teases, pulling away just enough to look at you. "And I have news."

"What happened?"

You stay locked in his embrace as he speaks, bringing one of your hands to his face to stroke his cheek, to follow the line of his jaw with your fingers. He lets you, as eager to feel your touch as you are to feel his.

"I confronted Namsu," he begins. "But I wasn't alone. There were other angels who had started the 'degradation' process, those who were too fearful of retribution to say anything. I told them everything, and we confronted the other Thrones about Namsu and everything he had done. They didn’t approve of his actions, and they punished him for it."

"Really?" You ask, eyes wide with surprise. "Just like that? They believed you?"

A soft laugh bubbles up from him. "It wasn't quite that simple. There was plenty of arguing, plenty of disbelief. I’d never seen anything like it. But in the end, Namsu was banished from the celestial realm."

Relief washes over you at his words, the tension you hadn't even realized you were carrying leaving your body. "That's incredible.”

Jungkook shrugs slightly, but there’s an unmistakable look of pride in his eyes. "I’m just glad he has gotten what he deserves. Now you have justice." He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"And what about the others? The ones who have started to degrade?" Your heart clenches at the thought of them being punished for something beyond their control.

"They're safe," Jungkook assures you quickly. "The Thrones have promised to take care of it all. They're going to convene with Him, to see if the Heavenly teachings can be altered. Things are changing up there; I think it's all going to be alright."

You're overwhelmed with emotion, both relief and dread tugging at you simultaneously. It is good to know that things will be changing, but what is done to you has been done. And now, Jungkook has no reason to stay with you. You take a step back from him.

"What about you?" you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze.

"What about me?"

"You have no reason to stay anymore. You can return to your normal duties. You did what was right, and everything is fixed."

"I did what was right, yes, and I'm sure things will be much better from now on," Jungkook agrees. But he steps forward, taking your hands in his and looking deep into your eyes. "But now, I need to do what's right for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, my star." Your heart stutters at the endearment. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you."

"But… you can only do that if you're—"

"Human, yes," he interrupts.

"Jungkook! You can't! You can't Fall for me," you half-shout, half-whisper. "You're a good angel, you—"

"Y/N." The force behind his voice stops you. "Even before you showed me the beauty of being human, before I knew how to feel, before I even knew what love was, I would have done anything for you.” His confession takes your breath away, and you wobble on your feet, moving a few steps back from him in your shock. “If you had simply asked it of me, I would have stood with you in the fires of hell for all eternity and still been grateful for each moment spent at your side."

The tears you were holding back begin to fall. "You would have?"

“I would. I can. I will.” He moves closer to you with each beat between words until he stands directly in front of you, only a hair's breadth away. Gently, hesitantly—as if for the first time—he takes your hand and presses it to his chest right above where a human heart would be. “Just say the words, and I will fall for you. I will forsake myself and turn my back on Heaven. The pain of losing my wings will be inconsequential compared to the pain of having to be without you.”

"W-what words?"

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. "You know what I want to hear. Be honest. Even better, be selfish, like a human. Tell me what you really want, and I will oblige."

You hesitate. You have been fighting your feelings this entire time, so sure of the fact that Jungkook would choose to continue his life as an angel. You never wanted him to Fall for you, to be torn away from the life he has always known the way you were. But he deserves to make the choice himself. If he wants your honesty, you will give it to him.

"Speak, Y/N," Jungkook urges, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I want…" You begin slowly, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you. I want you to stay with me." He grins, relief clear in his eyes. "Then I will."

"But you shouldn't have to Fall!"

"Fall or not, it won't change anything," he assures you. "I chose this path before even knowing there was a choice. I chose you from the second we were created.”

"Even if that means giving up everything?" you ask.

Jungkook’s expression softens. He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "Does it seem like I’m giving up everything?" he muses aloud, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because from where I stand, it seems like I’m gaining everything.”

"Smooth-talker,” you laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek. He brushes it off with his thumb, his gaze softening even further.

For a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. It's quiet except for your breathing and the sound of waves crashing against the pier. You have been so afraid of asking him to make this choice, and yet he seems so certain about it, as if it was what he wanted all along.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask him one more time, seeking reassurance. "Once done, there's no going back."

His answer is immediate, "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

"This will change everything," you say again.

"I know," he replies simply.

"Come find me when it's over," you whisper, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll be at the shelter."

As you go to leave, you can't help but glance back over your shoulder at Jungkook, taking in the appearance of him and his wings one last time. He's still standing there, watching you go with love evident in his gaze. It quells some of your worries. And then you blink, and he’s gone.

The hours that creep by feel like days. You busy yourself with meaningless tasks, cleaning the office, flipping through an old book left on the table, scrolling TikTok. None of it does anything to dull your anxiety, and you're weighing the pros and cons of tearing your hair out before you finally hear a knock on the door. You shoot up to your feet, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you open the door, and there he stands. "I'm here," he says simply. "As I promised."

You pull him into a hug once again, burying your head into his chest. You can hear the beat of his human heart and, unable to stop yourself, you burst into tears. You know the pain he just went through, can remember experiencing it yourself like it was yesterday, and you can hardly believe he went through something so awful to be with you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tightening your hold on him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he coos, gently stroking your hair. "This was my choice."

You swallow hard and pull back from him so you can look into his eyes, searching for any sign of regret. You find none.

"Are you okay?" You ask anyway, your heart aching at the thought of what he has given up.

"I am," he assures, his voice full of conviction. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, and when he pulls away, he's smiling. "I wondered if doing that would feel different now that I'm fully human."

"And does it?" you ask, smiling back up at him.

"Yes," he admits, tracing an invisible line down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver at his touch. "It feels more real. Stronger somehow. It's like you're the break of dawn after a long night."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Being human certainly hasn't changed the fact that you have a way with words."

"Only when it comes to you," he replies, his fingers never ceasing their journey across your skin. They make their way back to your waist, where he plays with the hem of your shirt. "There's one lesson we never covered, you know."

"A-and what would that be?" you squeak as his fingers caress the smooth skin of your stomach.

His voice drops lower, and he tugs you closer by your belt loops. "Human intimacy."

You flush at his audacity but don't pull away. "And what would be the best way for me to teach you about that?"

"Hm…" He leans down so that his lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath with each word he speaks. "I think I would respond well to some hands-on practice."

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his lips press against yours in a slow, searing kiss that turns your knees to jelly. He takes his time exploring your mouth, his lips moving delicately against yours. His hands are warm on your skin, trailing up and down your back as he pulls you closer.

"Then I suppose we should get started," you manage to whisper when you finally break apart, breathless.

Jungkook moves into the room, closing the door behind him, and sits down on the edge of the pull-out bed. He stares up at you, his once-innocent doe eyes now dark and hooded with desire. You float towards him as if being pulled by a magnet, and he pulls you down so that you’re straddling his lap. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your touch.

"I think I should warn you," he says, hands sliding down to rest right above the curve of your ass, "I might be a slow learner."

You roll your eyes, a short, playful chuckle escaping from your lips. "I think I can handle that."

The room fills with an easy silence as you continue to explore each other, experiencing sensations new for the both of you. His hands trace every curve and dip of your body, his touch curious yet surprisingly confident. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, his jaw, his chest, and then find their way under his shirt to the newly-formed scars on his back. They are rough against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth skin.

"You aren't in pain?”

“No,” he assures you, his hands sliding to a similar position on your own back. "Were you for long after?"

"No, but I'm still worried," you smile sheepishly.

He laughs and kisses your nose. "Don't be. Don't feel like you have to be gentle with me. I won't break."

You laugh in return, your eyes twinkling with delight and a touch of mischief. "Is that a challenge, Jungkook?"

He hums in response, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe."

His teasing reply only spurs you on. Rising to the bait, you lean in to kiss him, this time with a boldness that leaves him momentarily stunned. But he recovers quickly, matching your fervor and deepening the kiss. Your hands weave into his hair, pulling him closer, and his hips jut up against you almost involuntarily. You moan at the sensation, and he stills.

"What was that?" he asks.

"That," you breathe out, "is what human intimacy sounds like."

"I want to hear it again."

His lips find yours again and this time it's deep and demanding, all teeth and tongue and the promise of what’s to come. His hands grab your waist, forcing you to grind down against him as he once again lifts his hips up to meet your core. Another moan escapes your lips, the sound quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, his fingertips skimming against the skin of your lower back. Eagerly, you lift your arms, and he pulls it off over your head.

"Jungkook…" you whimper, clutching at his shoulders. He responds by nuzzling into your neck, his hot breath making you shiver with pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, his lips tracing the column of your throat, down to your chest.

He places a gentle kiss above each breast before descending lower still, sucking one into his mouth. His lips and tongue move expertly, drawing gasps from you as your nerves ignite with pleasure. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you securely against him as he devotes himself entirely to exploring the new terrain, and you grind against him wantonly. You can feel that your panties are soaked with the proof of your desire.

"Jungkook," you say again, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His name is a plea, a prayer. "I need more."

He pulls back, his lips swollen from his ministrations. "And so I'll give it to you."

You eagerly crawl off of him, shimmying out of your jeans, before settling with your back against the pillows. You grab at the air, beckoning him closer. He does the same, now only in his boxers, and slots himself on top of you, his bare skin against yours intensifying the burning desire coursing through your veins. His hard length presses against your core, and you whine.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits in a low voice, his hot breath fanning against your face as his eyes search yours for assurance.

You reach up, caressing his cheek. "It's okay," you soothe him, your hands then trailing down his back to rest on his hips, encouraging him closer. "We'll figure it out together."

His lips find your neck as his hands explore every inch of you, his rough fingers exploring the softness of your flesh. He slides one down over your stomach and lower still, feather-light touches teasing you until you're gasping beneath him. His fingers trace the edge of your panties before sliding the fabric down. You lift your hips, aiding him in removing the last barrier between you. He tosses them aside before returning his attention to you, his fingers skimming along your trembling thighs. His fingers move gradually, inching steadily upward until he's touching you where you're most sensitive. You let out a soft gasp, gripping the sheets.

"Is this okay?" he asks. You nod eagerly, unable to get the words out, and he chuckles, placing a gentle kiss at the base of your throat. "Good."

Always the over-achiever, he slides down your body until his face is level with your core, focusing intently on his work. His fingers move with a slow, calculated rhythm that quickly has you dripping for him. Eventually, he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

"Am I doing this right?" he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

"You must be," you gasp out, encouraging him with a roll of your hips. "Don't stop."

Grinning, he adds a second finger, working you open until you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your back arches off the bed as his fingers work their magic, curling in just the right way that has you seeing stars. Praise tumbles from your lips, but you're sure that it just sounds like nonsense, your thoughts too muddled to form coherent words.

"You're so wet," he murmurs in a low, gravelly voice that only adds fuel to your desire.

Without warning, he lowers his mouth to your core, his lips and tongue joining his exploring fingers. The sensation is electric; your breath hitches, and an animalistic moan escapes you. He takes it as a sign of encouragement, doubling his efforts. Your fingers find their way to his hair, threading into the dark strands, seeking purchase. You can't help but pull, and he moans against you, the vibrations only furthering your pleasure.

"Jungkook," you warn, "I'm—"

A coil of white heat tightens within you before snapping. His name slips from your lips as you climax, sparks dancing behind your eyelids as he continues to pleasure you, eagerly lapping up your release. He doesn't stop, not until you physically pull him away from you, body shaking with overstimulation. He climbs back up your body, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

His pupils are blown out with desire, his hair slicked back with sweat, and he's so attractive that just the sight of him has you clenching your thighs together.

You nod, cupping his face in your hands. "More than okay," you assure him. "That was amazing. Now," you slide your fingers down his chest, sliding over the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see what we can do about you."

You hook your thumbs around the fabric and pull them downwards, and he does the rest of the work, kicking them off. You reach down, your fingers tentatively wrapping around his cock. He gasps, his head falling forward against your chest as you begin to stroke him with a slow, measured rhythm.

He nearly whines, his grip tightening on your hips. "That feels… I can't…" His words dissolve into soft, broken moans as you continue to work him over.

Suddenly overtaken with need, you stop, pulling him in for another searing kiss. "I need you inside of me, Jungkook," you gasp against his lips, "Please."

Your hand guides him back to your core, and his breath hitches. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, you lift your hips to meet him. He pushes into you carefully, slowly, each inch an intense sensation for both of you. Your body clenches around him as if welcoming him home, a strangled moan escaping your lips. One of his hands clasps yours, bringing it to rest on the side of your head while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths fanning your skin. He's shaking against you, and you feel just as overwhelmed.

You squeeze the hand that's holding yours, urging him on. "You're okay," you whisper, "I'm okay. Move."

He nods, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back inside of you. Your body jolts at the sensation, gasping his name over and over.

"You feel incredible," he breathes out, the statement more for himself than for you. “So perfect.” Your fingers thread through his hair once more, pulling him down to meet your lips.

His hips set a steady rhythm, filling the room with soft sounds of skin on skin and heavy panting. He lets out a low groan as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside of you that has you crying out and grabbing at him wherever you can reach. You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your head back against the pillows.

"That's it," you whine, "Right there. It feels so good—"

Your words cut off into a choked moan as he thrusts into you at that exact spot again and again, his movements becoming more erratic. He's close—you can tell by the way his body tenses and how he gasps desperately into your mouth.

"I'm… I'm—" he stammers out, breath hitching between each word.

"I know," you gasp out, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Me too."

You pull him as close as possible, holding him to you as you both chase your release. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your nails dig into his skin as a wave of pleasure crashes over you, even more intense than the last. You moan his name as you come, shuddering beneath him. He moans into your neck as he follows you over the edge, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he buries himself deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breathing tickling your skin. He stays there, nestled inside of you, his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rapid rhythm of your own. You feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him on top of you and within you. You caress his back, slowly tracing the contours of his scars with gentle strokes, the action soothing for both of you.

Eventually, he shifts, carefully pulling himself out of you and collapsing onto his back next to you. His hand searches blindly for yours, lacing your fingers together once he finds it. He brings your joined hands up to his lips and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Is… are you…" He lifts his head to meet your eyes, unable to form words.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Good," he whispers, a contented sigh escaping him.

His eyes roam over your face once more before closing, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. Together, you lay there under the sheets, and the silence goes on for so long that you almost think he fell asleep.

Then suddenly, you hear him say, voice barely above a whisper, "I love you." You look over to see him staring up at you with adoration in his gaze and a soft smile on his lips. "I know I don't have to say it since surely there can be no doubt that everything I have done for you is out of love. But I want to say it anyway. I want to continue saying it for the rest of my life. I have loved you since before I even had the capacity to feel it, and I will continue to love you until time ceases to exist."

His confession leaves you breathless, and you can do little but turn on your side, grab his face, and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"I love you too, Jungkook," you whisper against his lips, "So very, very much."

He lets out an audible sigh of relief as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for your response. His free hand reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape. "I knew you would say so, but I'm happy to hear it all the same."

The two of you get ready for bed, and, for the first time since commandeering Naomi’s office, you fall asleep together in each other's arms.

The day you have been dreading has arrived—Christmas. Despite your initial hatred, however, you find yourself actually participating in the festivities around the shelter. Just like as many others do, you aren't going to consider it a holy day. You're going to use it as an excuse to be happy and spend time with your loved ones.

You join the group of children who sit by the pile of gifts, their excitement palpable as they eagerly wait for Naomi to declare it time to open them. Small hands tug at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him down to their level as they bombard him with questions about where he's been. He settles down amongst them, answering their questions as honestly as he can. His eyes meet yours over the sea of eager faces, and he stretches out a hand towards you, inviting you to join him. You sit right on his lap, making some of the kids giggle.

"Alright, everyone, it's time!" Naomi's voice echoes through the shelter, immediately quieting the children down.

As each name is called out and the kids scramble to collect their gifts, you can't help but smile. The pure delight on their faces is infectious. Noticing your happiness, Jungkook pulls you back so that you’re leaning against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He places a gentle kiss on your neck, murmuring, "You seem happy."

"I am," you say, placing your hands over his. "The holidays aren't so bad with you around."

"I'm glad." He turns your head so he can place a quick kiss on your lips, one that is light and soft and sweet, full of love. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Jungkook," you echo, smiling brightly.

Later, Naomi corners the two of you, pulling you aside. "I've been thinking about what to give you," she says. "I—"

"Naomi, you don't have to give me anything!"

"Don't interrupt me," she scolds, but there's no bite behind it. "Like I was saying, I was thinking it over, and I realized that the best gift I could offer is not anything material. From tomorrow on, you will officially be a supervisor. A paid supervisor."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at Jungkook, who is beaming at you with pride. You turn back to Naomi, stuttering out a response.

"B-but Naomi, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," she interrupts, her tone firm. "From the day you arrived here, you have been working as hard as any of us. You deserve this." Before you can argue any further, she thrusts a small envelope into your hands. "Consider it an early Christmas gift and your first paycheck. And my office? It's yours."

"Thank you, Naomi," you manage, your voice choked with emotion. You pull her into a hug, hoping it can express everything you don't know how to say.

She pats your back, chuckling. "If anything, it's an excuse for me to take some time off. I'm getting old and need to start sharing the burden. Don't expect it to be a walk in the park!"

You pull away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "Of course not. I'm ready to be worked to the bone, ma'am."

"That's what I like to hear," she comments, her voice carrying an undertone of pride. She turns to Jungkook, her gaze soft but words sharp. "Take care of her, will you?"

"Always," he replies without a moment's hesitation, which earns him a small nod from Naomi.

Eventually, the celebrations wind down and people start to retreat to their beds until only you and Jungkook remain. Instead of doing the same, you decide to return to the pier and watch the water for a bit, not ready for the day to end. The two of you walk in comfortable silence, hands linked tightly as if promising not to let go.

Sitting at the edge of the pier, Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His body heat seeps into your skin, fighting away the cold, and you rest your head on his chest, letting his strong, steady heartbeat lull you into contentment.

"Who would've thought we would end up here?" you reflect, staring out at the ocean.

Jungkook laughs softly, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. "I don't think either of us could have predicted this."

"I never thought I would be happy that any of this happened, but I am. Are you?"

His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you. "More than I could possibly put into words," he admits.

"Will you miss it, though? Heaven?"

"I thought I would," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "But Earth has its own kind of heaven. You're here. Naomi is here. The children are here. I have so much more yet to discover, to experience." His gaze returns to you, eyes soft and full of love. "How could I miss anything when I have all of this?”

Your heart swells at his words, his declaration warming you like nothing else could. You reach up to cup his face, your fingers lightly brushing his lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment at your touch before opening again to hold your gaze.

"You're right," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves. "This is our heaven. Here, with each other. And who knows, maybe we'll end up back there someday."

"You think?" Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow. "I must say, I'm a little surprised hearing that from you. I didn't think you had faith anymore or wanted it for that matter."

You shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't have my original beliefs anymore, that's for sure, but I don't resent it all like I once did, either. I think I've just found a new kind of faith. A faith in myself, in people, in goodness, and in love. There are so many different kinds of religions out there, and at their core, they're all about trying to understand the world around us, trying to find ways to cope and move forward. I think that's what I'm doing now, in my own way."

"That's beautiful," Jungkook says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Somehow both simple and complex. Just like life itself, I suppose."

"And what about you, Jungkook?” you ask, pecking him on the lips. How will you move forward?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure, either. But I think I'm happy to find out, as long as it's with you."

You hold each other close, each hoping your touch can express what no words could possibly convey. Love. Gratitude. Hope. The promise of a shared journey. What more could you possibly ask for?

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook au #my fic #collab

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corroded-hellfire · 6 months

Text

Something Sweet - Eddie Munson x Reader

A collab with my beloved @munson-blurbs

An As You Wish story

Summary: When the Munson boys that you babysit ask you to join them for trick-or-treating, how can you say no? Especially when you have a massive crush on their father.

Note: Happy Halloween! Please enjoy the first time that reader gets to spend the holiday with the crazy Munson gang 🧡

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie, babysitter!reader, male masturbation

Words: 4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

It’s the week before Halloween, and while the weather has cooled and fall decor is in abundance, the Munson boys are still trying to determine their costumes.

“I can’t deciiiide,” Ryan whines to you, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic groan.

You take a seat next to him, scrunching up your nose in thought. “What’re we down to?” you ask.

“Vampire or Scooby-Doo.”

You consider both options, trying to drown out the sound of the Hey, Arnold episode Luke’s engrossed in. “Hmm…my vote is for vampire.” You laugh when his face pinches in a frown. “That right there tells me you wanna be Scooby-Doo. I knew I could help,” you teasingly add.

“Hey!” Luke calls out, startling you briefly.

“Hey is for horses.” You grin. “What’s up?”

“Can—”

The front door opens with a soft groan, and Eddie steps inside. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it on a hook near the door.

“Daddy!” Luke calls, pushing himself off the ground and running full speed at his father.

Eddie catches him easily and tosses the small boy over his shoulder as he walks further into the house. Luke’s little legs kick excitedly against Eddie’s torso.

“Hello, my two jesters.” Eddie smiles, holding onto Luke with one hand and ruffling Ryan’s hair with the other.

“Whatsa jester?” Luke asks from behind his father’s back.

“Like a clown but fancier. For a king,” Ryan tells him.

“And Princess,” Eddie addresses you, doing an abbreviated form of a bow with his son slung over his shoulder, being sure not to drop him.

The name and gesture make you giggle nonetheless, and you can feel the heat climbing in your cheeks.

Eddie heads towards the kitchen, but Luke starts to flail in his grip, legs kicking dangerously close to a light fixture on the wall that’s already had to be replaced twice because of incidents involving the little boy.

“Waaaait! I hadda question!”

“What’s up?” Eddie asks as he plops Luke back down on the floor.

Luke raises his eyebrows. “Not for you.” His tone implies that this should have been obvious. The five-year-old turns towards you and gives you his best pleading smile, complete with batted eyelashes. “Will you come trick-or-treating with me and Ryan? Pleeeeease?”

Ryan instantly loves the idea and bounds over to the stand next to his brother, both of them giving you those large Munson eyes that you’re helpless against.

“Yes, pleeeeeease!” Ryan adds, jutting out his lower lip in a puppy dog-esque pout.

As if you could say no to them. You didn’t want to either, really. It’d be fun to go around with them, and you’d never turn down time with Eddie.

Speak of the devil… “As long as it’s okay with your dad,” you tell them.

As one, the boys spin around to face Eddie, giving him the same longing stare.

“Don’t give me that look; I invented it,” Eddie tells them before looking at you over their heads. “But, of course. You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Yesssss!” The boys cheer and you give Eddie a grateful smile. He nods in return before grabbing a beer from the fridge, opening it using the side of the countertop. For some reason, it’s incredibly attractive to you, and you smile at him.

“Ryan!” Luke says loudly, jarring you out of your daydreams about your boss. Luke turns to his older brother and places his hands on his shoulders. “I have a very important question.”

“What?” Ryan asks, frowning in confusion.

“Are your pillowcases bigger than mine? Cause we gotta use whatever lets us get the most candy!”

“Ooh!” Ryan lights up at the idea. “I’m not sure, let’s go check.”

Eddie turns to you as the boys dart to their rooms. “How long do you think it’ll take them to realize they’re the same size?”

You just laugh, thumbs dancing around each other nervously. “I’m excited to trick-or-treat with you. Them. All of you.” Heat creeps up your neck in embarrassment.

If Eddie notices, he doesn’t show it.

“Yeah, me too. I gotta warn you, though,” he adds mischievously, “I’m more ‘tricks’ than ‘treats.’”

You furrow your brow. “What does that mean?”

He leans in so his lips are next to your ear, about to let you in on a secret.

“I’m home!” an already irritated voice calls from the front door. You’d been so caught up in your conversation (flirtation?) with Eddie that you hadn’t even heard Brittany come in.

Eddie lets out a small groan under his breath that you don’t think you were meant to hear—it’s just that his lips are so close to your ear.

Brittany strides down the hall and Eddie takes a subtle step away from you. His wife hardly spares a glance in the direction of you two as she continues down the hall towards the master bedroom.

“I should head out,” you say, eager to avoid any more Brittany appearances.

“Drive safe,” Eddie says. “Lots of weirdos out there around Halloween.”

“I’m a college student,” you remind him. “I’m very used to weirdos.”

Eddie chuckles and you give him a wave before walking out of the kitchen, exhaling a long-held breath once the door closes behind you.

On Halloween, Ryan and Luke come bounding out of school, even more hyper than usual. They come bearing crafts that they made in school and chatter on a mile a minute about the fun activities they’d done that day in their respective classes.

“Are you guys sure you need more candy?” you tease. “Looks like you’ve had enough sugar to last a lifetime.”

They just chant “more candy” in response, and you regret even asking. One of them hyper, you could handle no problem. But when it’s both of them? This is how you assume zookeepers feel while trying to care for the monkeys.

“Whatcha dressing up as tonight?” Luke asks once their chanting has come to an end.

“Ah, that’s just gonna have to remain a surprise,” you tell them, a smirk growing on your lips even though they can’t see it from the back seat.

Once they figure out that they’re not going to break you and get the information they want, the car ride is filled with them singing at the top of their lungs, even Ryan, who is usually much more reserved. They jump from song to song: some they must know because of Eddie and some from Disney movies.

Despite their protests to rifle through their bags when you get home, you manage to get them to eat some apple slices with peanut butter for a snack. Something healthy before their mouths feast on the pounds of sugar they’ll collect tonight.

They still have an abundance of energy, so you get the idea to teach them the Time Warp dance. It’s something you remember learning long ago—from your sister, actually. And even though they are far too young to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it’s still fun to pass on the iconic choreography to the brothers.

It also serves as a means to distract them since they’ve now tried twice to peek inside your bag and find out what your costume is. All attempts were unsuccessful. Maybe soon they’d actually start believing that you have eyes in the back of your head.

You’re just finishing up cleaning the dishes as they jump to the left and step to the right, when the front door opens. Fight or flight instinct kicks in as you freeze on the spot, ready to protect the boys against the mystery intruder. But you relax as soon as Eddie calls out, “who’s ready to trick-or-treat?”

Ryan and Luke run over to their dad as usual, even more excited than they normally are since he’s come home early.

“Look what we learned!” Luke exclaims, and the two of them execute the moves to The Time Warp as well as they can without music. It’s a little stiff and robotic, but they give it a valiant effort. At least Eddie was able to figure out what the hell they were doing.

“All right, little Riff Raffs,” Eddie chuckles, ruffling their hair. “Let’s get going before it gets too dark.”

“We’re not afraid of the dark!” Ryan protests.

Eddie points to you as you step out of the kitchen, a shit-eating grin on his face. “She is.”

If the boys weren’t there, you’d flip him off; instead, you stick out your tongue.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he coos, “I—we’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” you playfully gush, hands coming up to clasp beneath your chin and your voice going an octave higher to portray your role as the damsel in distress.

The boys shuffle off to their rooms to change into their costumes, and you go into the bathroom to do the same. You unzip the old, faded gray duffel bag and take your fairy costume out piece by piece, the bright colors contrasting nicely in the mostly black and white bathroom. It would be a little difficult to attach the baby blue wings in the cramped space of the bathroom, so you decide you’ll do that last, out in the living room. The off-white dress you zip yourself into is off the shoulder and the short skirt has layers of cream-colored chiffon resting atop one another. The ballet flats you slip into are the same shade of white as well, with a touch of silver glitter sprinkled on them thanks to one of your friends in the art department at school. Deciding it’s probably easier to put your fake pointed ears on before your flower crown, you struggle to get the right ear to stick. Once it’s successful, you pick up the beautiful, thick flower crown adorned with red roses, pink peonies, and yellow carnations. It takes a little maneuvering to get it to sit on your head just right, but you smile to yourself in the mirror once you’ve got it just how you want it. You inspect yourself as you’re looking in the mirror and decide you’re glad you chose this costume. Of course, since Eddie’s going to be seeing you in it you want to make sure it looks good.

Bringing the wings and bag out with you, you make your way back into the living room.

“What do you think?” you ask Eddie, mustering up all your courage to give a little twirl. The layers of your skirt spin with you, giving a cool breeze to the tops of your legs.

Eddie swallows thickly. “Wow, um, I mean, you’re…” Hot. Gorgeous. Sexy. The girl of my goddamn dreams. “…a fairy,” he decides lamely.

You nod, trying not to show your disappointment at his reaction, or lack thereof. “Yeah, I am,” you say softly. “My friend is going as one, too, so we’ll kinda match.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Which friend?”

“Just someone from school. But we’re both going to the same party tonight, so we figured it would be fun to have similar costumes.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Of course you’re going to a party. You’re young and carefree. Was he really expecting you to stay here with him and the boys? What would you do, curl up on the couch and watch Charlie Brown and his pumpkin while snacking on candy? And then after the kids go to bed, you and he would taste the chocolate on each others’ tongues—

“We’re ready!”

Luke’s announcement catches Eddie off guard and startles him. He’s quick to compose himself though and gives his boys a bright smile.

“Let’s head on out.”

“Wait, I’m coming!”

Luke’s slightly shorter legs have him trailing behind his big brother as they climb the small hill to the next house. The orange streetlight glints off the golden dog tag resting against Ryan’s, or Scooby Doo’s, throat. The younger Munson brother’s hand comes up to keep his pirate hat in place as he struggles to catch up.

The boys have all but forgotten that you and Eddie are there with them. The pair of you trail along behind the two excited boys, strolling leisurely in the chilly air and enjoying talking with one another.

“Do you think the constant running will balance out any effects from the sugar so that they might actually fall asleep before four in the morning?” Eddie asks. He shakes his head in amusement as Luke barrels up to the next door.

“Unlikely,” you say with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re all hopped up on candy again when you come home from work tomorrow.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you and even in the dim lighting as you walk in the dark patch between streetlights, you can tell how nonthreatening of a gesture it is on his face. You don’t dare for a moment think that Eddie isn’t capable of an intimidating look. Without a doubt, you know Eddie would flip a switch if anything happened to either of his children. You would never want to see anything happen to your two favorite boys, but part of you is curious what temper Eddie hides beneath the coveralls and metal band t-shirts.

“You want me to fire you, huh? Is that it?” Eddie teases, bringing you back to the conversation at hand.

“Oh, please,” you say, shrugging your bare shoulders. “You wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

You have no idea how right you are, Eddie thinks. He pretends to consider your words though, as he slips his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket—one better suited to combat the wind tonight than his usual leather.

“I don’t know,” Eddie playfully muses. “How about you ask that friend of yours tonight if they’d be interested in babysitting two adorable, if not slightly crazy, little boys?”

Your responding giggle is like air to Eddie; he needs it so desperately that it goes far beyond a want or a craving. Each laugh of yours has him feeling like he’s Tinker Bell who needs applause to keep himself alive.

“Lily serves coffee all day, so she could just as well give that to the kids. I think candy is the better option here,” you say, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts.

Okay, the friend tonight is a girl, Eddie thinks with relief, before it’s quickly replaced by guilt. Why should it matter to him anyway? But it does and he’s in deep enough where he can admit that to himself. She said they were going as fairies, of course it’s a girl friend. But aren’t you glad to have that bit of confirmation? Jesus Christ, Eddie. Stop having internalized conversations with yourself and listen to what the intoxicatingly beautiful fairy next to you is saying.

“…my sister’s for Thanksgiving, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen,” you’re saying as Eddie manages to zone back in. “Do you know what you guys will be doing?”

“Uh…” Eddie stammers as he tries to shake the cobwebs out of his brain. “I think it’s our house this year.” Eddie scratches at his stubble as he thinks back to whatever Brittany yammered on about Thanksgiving a few weeks ago. “My uncle might be coming over. Or Britt’s sister and family. I don’t know, I’d rather just go over to my uncle’s place, honestly. Bring the kids back to the home I grew up in and have a nice dinner.” He’s babbling, but he can’t stop himself. “H-Have you met Wayne?”

You nod, confirming with a kind smile. “A few times. He seems really nice, and he obviously loves the boys.”

“Yeah,” Eddie beams. He’s so used to Brittany bashing his uncle that he’s caught off-guard by your compliment. “He pretty much raised me, so Luke and Ryan are like grandkids to him.”

Your heart soars, yet you’re compelled to know why Wayne took care of him instead of his own parents. It’s not a discussion for right now, so you tuck the thought in your pocket and move on.

“If you need a babysitter to keep an eye on the kids while you get the cooking done, just let me know,” you chirp.

“Thanks, Fairy Princess.”

“Any time, Boring, Costume-less Man.”

Somehow despite all the energy they previously possessed, the boys drag their feet on the way back to the house. At one point, Eddie even throws Luke over his shoulder, the little boy slowing you all down so much with his tiny, tired steps. Happily, you hold his plastic pirate sword in one hand and pillowcase full of candy in the other as Luke is slumped down his dad’s back. Ryan trudges along beside you, each of his steps looking like it’s heavier than the last. You duck your head away to hide your smile; it’s just so nice to see him tuckered out after a fun evening with his family—and you, you mentally add. As much as you’d love to be part of this family, you’re still just a paid employee.

Even through his massive lack of energy, Luke still begs to go through his collected stash before they go to bed. Because he can tell his youngest is wilting fast, he gives the okay while Ryan gets his pajamas on and brushes his teeth.

“Both of you tuck me in?” Ryan asks sleepily, the palm of his hand rubbing his left eye.

“Sure thing, bud,” you tell him, following him to his room. You and Eddie tuck both of them in, watching contentedly as they snuggle into their blankets. They’re happy, innocent kids; just as they should be.

Eddie presses a kiss to each of their foreheads. Luke is nearly asleep, but Ryan musters up the energy to crinkle his nose, looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Can you kiss me, too?” he asks, yawning at the end of his question.

“Me, too,” mumbles Luke.

You look at Eddie for permission, not wanting to overstep bounds. He smiles and steps out of the way, and you place a soft kiss on their scalps and wish them sweet dreams.

“Thanks, Fairy Godmother,” Luke says with a sleepy smile.

Jesus Christ, I wish she was your mother, Eddie can’t help but reflexively think, shaking off the idea. Brittany. You’re married to Brittany, and she’s the love of your life. Something nags at him that he shouldn’t have to constantly remind himself about it.

Oblivious to Eddie’s inner turmoil, you giggle and muss up Luke’s soft curls. “See you tomorrow, First Mate Luke.”

“I’m the capt’n…” Luke slurs as he already falls headfirst into sleep.

Both you and Eddie head back out to the living room and you scoop up your duffel bag that now holds your clothes from earlier in the day.

Eddie takes full advantage of your back bring turned to let his eyes rake over you. “Have fun at your party tonight,” he says as he appreciates the curve of your ass. “Just be careful, yeah?”

His eyes automatically snap back up as you turn around to face him, hoping the pink tinge in the tips of his ears doesn’t give him away.

“Of course,” you assure him. You hike the strap of the bag over your shoulder and give Eddie a smile. “Thanks for letting me come with you guys tonight. I had a lot of fun.” I always have fun with you and the boys, you think.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “You did me a favor being there. Didn’t have to wrangle two hopped up munchkins on my own. Also, I had fun too.” Eddie feels the heat stinging his cheeks at the statement, but it’s the truth.

He walks you over to the front door and just before you reach for the doorknob you remember the wings attached to your back.

“Oh. Would you mind unhooking the wings for me? It’d be kind of hard to drive with them on.”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, uh, sure. How do they come off?” Eddie asks.

You turn your back towards him and maneuver yourself so he can see them better. “There’s a little hook about midway down my back. About where my bra clasp is.”

Eddie bites down on his lip to silence any noises that might have wanted to escape him at the reference to your bra and just how close his hands will be to it. That, plus the way your soft dress feels against his fingers as he undoes the hook and the heat radiating off your body has him half hard in his pants.

Okay, maybe three-quarters hard, but who’s measuring?

A shiver goes down your spine as well at the feeling of his hands so gentle against you. Guys your age just paw at you, treating you like a piece of meat. You’re not used to being handled so delicately. Eddie clears his throat and removes the wings, handing them to you when you turn around.

“Thanks,” you say, giving him a shy smile.

“No problem.” Thank you for giving me a reason to think about your bra.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you then.” He winces as he’s sure he’s coming off cold, but really, he’s just trying to keep his composure. You’re going to a college party with college guys; what could you possibly see in a man of his age, who has two kids of his own?

You open the front door and a chill wind bursts in, making you shiver.

“It gets cold earlier and earlier each year, I swear,” you joke lamely, forcing a smile through your nerves.

Before he can overthink it, Eddie quickly grabs his denim jacket off the hook near the door and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Here,” he says. “Can’t have you getting sick, can we?”

“Thanks. Again.” You pull the jacket tighter around you, reveling in his scent engulfing you. If the smell of his cologne lingers on your skin, you’ll be hesitant to wash it off. “I’ll bring this back tomorrow.”

“I trust you,” Eddie tells you with a playful wink that sends fireworks erupting in your belly.

On the inside, Eddie is thinking that you never have to give him back his jacket. He’d rather see you wearing it any day. Though, if he’s being honest, the sight of you in an item of his clothing is not helping the situation behind his fly.

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You give him one more smile before heading out to your car.

Eddie closes the door behind you and lets out a long groan. “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. He rubs his hands over his face as he heads towards the bathroom. Suddenly he has a whole new variety of fantasies about you to play in his head while he’s in the shower, starring one particular fairy princess.

As soon as the water is warm enough, he steps into the tub and wraps his hand around his cock. It only takes a few tugs—coupled with images of you—for him to get fully hard.

You, in your cute fairy costume.

You, flirting with him and showing off your body.

“Thassit,” Eddie mumbles to himself, “on your knees for me. Please.” He pictures you following his orders, opening up your mouth as he taps his length on your lips. “Good girl.”

He increases his pace, groaning as he jerks himself. “Love being in that pretty mouth of yours, honey. So warm and wet. Almost as good as your pussy, fuck.” He blinks the water from his eyes. “You knew what that costume would do to me, didn’t you? Knew how fuckin’ hot you looked, hmm? Would be a shame if someone were to…ruin it.”

He can’t help how quickly he cums, grunting and panting as he spills onto his hand. In his mind, his load drips down your once-flawless costume. “Poor little fairy. Christ, you look even better covered in my cum.”

Embarrassment sets in as his orgasm wanes. He needs to stop thinking about you this way. You’re twenty years old, you’re his kids’ babysitter, you’re forbidden fruit.

What he wouldn’t give to take a bite.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

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linawritestwst · 6 months

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wearing matching halloween outfits with your bf! (gn!reader)

(divider link)

this is my entry for @twistedchatterbox 's halloween collab! my prompt was "dress up (together)"!

characters: ace trappola, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, floyd leech, kalim al-asim, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, lilia vanrouge

genre: fluff

warnings: none

ace trappola.

♡ "come on, y/n, hurry up! the dorm leader's gonna be real mad if we-".. o-okay, he didn't expect that you'll choose an outfit that looks just like his, not counting some slight changes. he was pretty sure you're gonna go with something different. a-and why does his face feel so warm?.. ugh, this is embarrassing, he shouldn't feel this way just because you've decided to match with him.

♡ "ace, ace, look! hehe, don't i look cute?~" yes, you do. but obviously, he's not gonna tell you that. no, he's gonna go "halloween's whole thing is that you gotta look scary, not cute!" while his heart is beating so fast and his cheeks are only becoming more red. this shouldn't be a big deal, all of his dormmates are dressed up like this after all, but something about you two wearing the same outfit is.. like, it feels like something couples do, you know? even though you two ARE a couple, but still..

♡ "hmm? is it just me, or are you.. blushing?" okay, he has to get out of here. he quickly reminds you that you two are gonna be late, grabs your arm while trying not to look at you, even though it's so hard, and you two leave. you try so hard not to laugh because you know so well that he IS blushing right now. he's just trying so hard to act cool, but ends up being cute instead.

cater diamond.

♡ he also needs a moment before his brain can process what's going on. and when it actually does process it.. oh boy, he's gonna take SO MANY pictures of you. and he's also gonna take pictures WITH you! he needs everyone to know how adorable his s/o is and how good you two look together. it's just so cute, you two look like an actual couple!

♡ he is so excited, he can't stop smiling and he keeps holding your hand the entire time. every time you do something cute, he immediately takes a picture. come on, y/n, at least smile a little!~ but if you're not comfortable with that, he'll understand. if you don't want him to post those photos, he won't, please trust him. he can just keep them for himself to look at later <3

♡ oh, but now you have to be prepared for wearing matching outfits with him for like.. every single holiday. cater loves matching with you too much, it's just so nice and so fun and.. um.. m-maybe it feels like your relationship is actually serious a-and you actually love him and- n-no, he probably shouldn't talk about it. he doesn't want you to think he's weird, haha..

leona kingscholar.

♡ .. why exactly are you dressed like this? is this the outfit that you were so proud of earlier? why is he finding out about this only now? sure, all savanaclaw students are wearing the same outfit, but.. he just knows that you chose this exact outfit just because you wanted to match with him and nobody else. ugh, why are you like this..

♡ okay, he has to admit that you being so happy and acting all excited is kinda cute. no, he won't admit it out loud, shut up. he will just silently admire you when you don't notice it and if you're very, very lucky, you can see the corner of his mouth turn up a little, forming a smile, but the moment he sees you looking at him, he'll immediately turn away. not so good with being honest about his feelings, is he?

♡ you just keep following him around the entire time and the savanaclaw students try so hard not to tease their dorm leader about it, but they know well what's gonna happen if they do so, so instead they just try to see it as their dorm leader being so cool and having an extremely loyal s/o. eventually leona becomes kinda annoyed with you refusing to leave him alone, so maybe a quick kiss on the lips will shut you up at least for a minute?

azul ashengrotto.

♡ hm.. for some reason you changing is taking a bit more time than azul expected.. he'll wait, of course, but he still asks you if you're having any problems with anything, just in case. "o-oh, uh, it's just a little hard to move with these things.. they really are like bandages, haha." .. bandages? hold on, isn't that octavinelle's theme this year? ".. darling, i am sorry if this sounds rude, but could it be that our costumes are actually more similar than i thought they would be?" ".. yes-"

♡ .. y/n. when he said that your costumes could be similar, he didn't think your costume will be an exact copy of his. what is going on, y/n. and why is his heart beating so fast. why does he actually find it cute. oh no. quick, he can't show it, he doesn't want you to make fun of him even though you most likely wouldn't. he clears his throat and tries to stay calm, but it's hard, because it's like.. you planned this as a surprise for him, didn't you?

♡ you wanted to make him happy and well, congratulations, this mission was a success. he softly kisses your hand and tells you that this outfit suits you well and even if you fall because of the "bandages", he'll be right there to catch you, so you don't have to worry about anything. except he's wrong and it's actually him who trips like five minutes later and you have to catch him.

floyd leech.

♡ "shrimpy!~ ugh, what's taking you so long.. huh." yeah, sorry, floyd is not like azul. he's not gonna wait. you're being too slow? yeah, he's coming in. he has no shame. and well.. he really did not expect you to wear the same costume as him. like, if he remembers correctly, you've said that you will wear something different?.. haha, it's okay, shrimpy, he likes surprises.

♡ i hope you're ready for lots and lots of affection from him. he's gonna hug you, he's gonna squeeze you, he's gonna pick you up (he doesn't care about your height. he WILL pick you up. you have no choice), he's gonna bite you- okay, okay, fine, he'll try to calm down. he can't promise anything though. it's just!! you're so cute!! and so squishy!! and so biteable!!

♡ hey, hey, you two are going to wear matching outfits for other holidays too, right? come on, you gotta do it. and you look so cute in this particular outfit too.. be careful though and watch where you're going, because he might use the bandage-like details of your outfit to make you trip and fall right into his arms. come on, don't be mad at him, it was just a silly little prank~

kalim al-asim.

♡ .. he is SO happy. he's literally jumping and running around and his eyes are so sparkly and his smile is brighter than the sun itself, you actually have to close your eyes. he literally goes :O and points at you and turns to jamil and turns back to you and goes "JAMIL!! THEY'RE- WE'RE- WE'RE MATCHING!!!" jamil has to calm him down and say that's just something everyone in scarabia is wearing, but kalim refuses to listen to him.

♡ i hope you're patient enough because kalim is just. he's just a cute little puppy who will run around and will show you off to everyone he knows. "hey!! hey!! hi, look, this is y/n, my s/o! o-oh, you already know them? ohh, you must be very happy to see them again then!" he's literally acting like spongebob in that one episode where he made squidward wear a salmon costume and introduced him to everyone.

♡ but again, kalim is actually very happy because the concept of you two doing something together, even if it's just wearing the same outfit, is just so.. like, it warms his heart. it makes him feel like you two really are together, you know? like you two really are a part of each other's lives and maybe there's a chance that you'll be able to spend the rest of your lives together.

vil schoenheit.

♡ you're taking a little more time than he expected. but before vil can say or do anything, he suddenly hears your voice and turns to you. "haha, s-sorry, this outfit was a little hard to put on.. man, it's so detailed." hm? what does that mean- oh. oh. you're wearing the same outfit as him. oh. his head goes empty for a second, but only for a second, even though that second means a lot to someone like him, before he can react properly.

♡ but before he can say anything about your outfit, he notices that your hair is a little messy. and what about your makeup? dear, you know that you would look so much better with different colors.. no, no, this won't do. he has to help you out. he immediately drops everything he was doing before this just so that he can fix your hair and makeup. yes, he doesn't want to be late, but also, it'd be a shame to just let his s/o look like this while he's serving as always..

♡ while he's working on your makeup, he can feel that you're a little worried, most likely about him "not paying attention to your outfit". he smiles softly and kisses your forehead before telling you that you shouldn't think so low of him. of course, he noticed it. and of course, he loves how you look in it. it's an honor for him to wear matching outfits with someone like you. he just thinks that if you two are going to match, you both deserve to look like the most beautiful couple of this school (even if you two already are one)~

idia shroud.

♡ "guess who?~" you ask playfully, covering idia's eyes with your hands. he screams and starts shaking, but he still recognizes your voice. "u-uh.. y-y/n?.." "aaaaand you're right!" you let idia look at you and finally see what you're wearing. wait. wait hold on. hold on, let him just. n-never mind, his brain totally stopped working. girl help he's about to lose consciousness. not because you're so scary, but because you're so cute.

♡ oh. oh his s/o is matching with him. oh sevens. okay, let him just. let him just take a deep breath, in and out. look, what did you expect from him, it's not something that happens every day! okay, you really are wearing pretty much the same outfit as him. but.. why? "oh, i just thought it'd be fun", you shrug your shoulders. idia is shocked to hear just how chill your answer is, but you know that he'd be more shocked to hear the real reason why you did this.

♡ hm? so what's the real reason? uhh.. honestly, you just wanted to see his reaction. you thought it'd be cute and you were right. your boyfriend is going insane in a good way, his face is red, his hair is pink and his little brother is trying to calm him down. ortho is a little confused at first, but then he looks at you and. ohhhh, okay, he gets it. "ah, are you just so happy that you'll be able to match with y/n?" "ORTHO PLEASE-"

lilia vanrouge.

♡ you aren't sure if this is a good idea. you aren't prepared for all the teasing from lilia that's most definitely going to happen. but also the idea of matching with him sounded so cute.. so here you are. lilia was actually in the middle of talking to other diasomnia students, but he could still feel that you're here, so as soon as he was done, he looked at you and. u-uh.. are you going crazy or did his face just become slightly more red than usual?

♡ his face really did go red, but only for a minute, and right after that lilia basically runs to hug you and that hug is so sudden, you both fall on the ground. he laughs and apologizes to you, he was just so happy to see you and you look sooooo cute! here, let him help you get up. to be honest, he actually was kinda hoping to match with you.. and you look even better than he imagined!

♡ you can just see how proud he is of you being his s/o and he doesn't leave you alone for the entirety of the event. that's it, he's holding your hand and going "ah, have you already met my lovely partner?" and looking at you like you're the best thing that has ever happened to him and you have no choice. and yes, prepare yourself for a huge amount of teasing and flirting and hope that your heart can handle it.

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justveeing · 4 months

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“I’ve observed that this plant has meaning for humans. For some reason they feel induced to kiss if they pass under it together.” “It’s just a silly old tradition, Spock. No one’s obligated to do anything they don’t want to.” “Do you… enjoy partaking of this tradition, Jim?” “Like I said. It’s only an excuse.” - gunstreet, "Way From Within"

For this year's @ksadvent, @gunstreet and I teamed up for another collab!! You can read the her story HERE. You will find an amazing SNW-themed story full of time-loop shenanigans, rom-com elements, baby spirk, and one of my illustrations for each chapter. Happy Holidays!!!

#star trek #spirk #star trek fanart #james t. kirk #spock #fanfic #ksadvent #lordrawstrek

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onlymingyus · 1 year

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Holidate (Snowventeen Collab)

pairing; yoon jeonghan x afab reader

genre; smut, angst, fluff

warnings; fake boyfriend au, artist!jeonghan, stress about lying, unrealized feelings, conflict with family, reader’s parents are in the fic, joshua hong as a best friend, pretty heavy angst, eating and drinking mentioned, protected sex, oral (f receiving), handjob, fingering, light scratching, light breast play

svthub snowventeen collab master list - snowventeen tag list

w/c; 13k and some change

a/n; this will be my last snowventeen fic and for some reason as with most of my holiday fics this one got out of hand with length. I hope you enjoy it. thank you to @junkissed-replies, @duhnova, and @wonwussy for reading/proofreading.

“Why me?” Jeonghan’s brow raises in amusement giving you a full once over while you stand in front of him. He was one of your best friends but he really could be a dick when he wanted to be. “Because for one, you said you aren’t doing anything with your family for the holidays. Two, you are…classically attractive, and three, I need your help.”

When you call him attractive, Jeonghan’s smirk widens dramatically, leaning over the kitchen counter towards you lifting his hand to push your hair behind your ear causing you to take a breath. “You think I’m attractive?” Of course that would be the only part of the entire explanation he would have latched on to. Sighing loudly, you push his hand down causing Jeonghan to laugh and stand at his full height again.

“Will you go with me or not? I’m sure there will be someone there to torture, besides me.” Jeonghan runs his thumb along his bottom lip and gives you another once over lost in thought. A sigh escaping his lips when he nods causing you to smile melting his facade for a brief moment. You watch his face soften, his smile genuine until he clears his throat and glances down to his phone.

“I’m sure it will be fun and then you’ll owe me. I’m not sure how you’ll ever pay me back for this one though.” You sigh loudly at his words, lifting your shoulders in a dramatic shrug causing Jeonghan to laugh while he watches you. “I’ll buy you some paint or cook for you for like a week.” As much as he wanted to hold his over you for longer, Jeonghan couldn’t help the smile on his lips at your ideas of paying him back. They were both so genuine things he would enjoy from you but mostly just knowing that both would include your company.

You watch him nod, his lips pursed in thought causing his face to look somehow even more strikingly handsome. You found yourself more often than not wanting to smack the smug look off his face but you knew you never could. “Tell you what, I’ll keep those in the bank,” Jeonghan points at his head at the mention of the bank, his lips turning up in a smirk causing you to roll your eyes as he continues speaking. “and I’ll let you know what I decide. For now, gorgeous, you can call me boyfriend.” You really were going to regret this.

Your stomach was in knots by the time that you and Jeonghan pulled up outside of your family home. He had been a perfect gentleman and actually helpful most of the trip. Trying to help you stay calm, telling you he would make this easy. “We’ve been friends for years, Y/N. I know you better than you know yourself. I can play your boyfriend without a problem.” Then why was your brain screaming that your family would know you were lying?

This had all been so that you could stop the questions of when you were going to find a boyfriend, when you were going to get married, and most of all so you could stop the “well, you know your eggs are dying each and every day” conversations. For the past few years you were the center of attention for all the wrong reasons so this year you had taken it into your own hands to change the script.

Sliding out of the car, you swallow hard starting to turn towards the trunk of the Uber only to feel Jeonghan take your hand, hearing him tsk at you. “You are going to have to act like my girlfriend too. This is a two way street darling. So, though I don’t know who those people watching from the window are, I think it would be better if I carried in our bags, don’t you agree?”

Your eyes scan the front of the house seeing the face of your cousin, your mother, and one of your aunts watching you like a hawk. A large smile on your mother’s face while her hands gripped at the front of her dress trying to remain calm, you were so much like her. You had been nervous before, now you are terrified, your hands were sweating and Jeonghan could feel you trembling.

“Oh my god, they are gonna know I’m lying.” Jeonghan sighs at your words reaching up to push your hair from your forehead while the Uber driver sets the bags at his feet muttering a simple goodbye before the car pulls out of the driveway. “No they won’t. I won’t let this fail, when have you ever seen me fail anything?”

He had a point, he was good at everything. It was truly disgusting the more you thought about it. You found yourself instinctively leaning into Jeonghan’s hand making him smirk a bit, his own stomach doing flips but he was much better at hiding it. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. So just go with the flow and try to follow my lead. I’ll try to follow yours, okay?”

When you nod, Jeonghan smiles, his eyes glancing towards the window seeing even more people watching the two of you now. “Mm we have quite the audience. Don’t pull away…” You start to ask from what but Jeonghan leans in pressing his lips to yours letting them brush over yours so softly it takes your breath away. Shock sets in only once he pulls back his hand on your cheek covering your reaction from the onlookers, only a look of admiration on his face even as he wants to laugh at your wide eyes. “Couples kiss, you are going to have to get used to that, baby.”

“Oh my god, you’ve never kissed me before.” Jeonghan laughs, his thumb brushing along your cheek for a moment longer before he finally steps away to pick up both bags glancing back to wink at you. “Yeah, well I’ve never had a reason or occasion to kiss you before. Now let’s go in before they come out here. You have to introduce me to your family.”

You were still in shock walking slightly behind Jeonghan while taking the lead, making you bite the bullet and head towards the house. “You keep calling me pet names, you called me baby.” Jeonghan laughs, glancing over to you with a nod, “You are so observant today. I did call you baby because couples also use pet names. I thought it would be strange if we didn’t use them. You can call me anything you want, unless it’s something that would be obviously embarrassing. Y/N, take a deep breath, you look like you are going to pass out.”

His words are deaf in your ears when the front door opens, your mom’s voice cutting through the silence. “Y/N! Hi honey, you didn’t let us know you had landed and that you’d be bringing a guest.” You start to speak but Jeonghan can see how your lips barely seem to move so he takes over leaning to sit down the bags on the first step of the house, a bright smile on his lips when he offers your mother his hand.

“I’m Yoon Jeonghan, I’m afraid much of this is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. Y/N wanted to give you all a heads up but I thought it would be more fun if I was more of a surprise, a gift in a way. I know how important she is to you all, she has to be if she’s so important to me.” Your mother’s breath is shallow while she holds Jeonghan’s hand, his charming words cutting through her like a knife.

“Oh…it’s okay Jeonghan. I just, I’m afraid dear that I have only heard your name a few times from my daughter and with how you are speaking about her…” She lets the words trail off hoping that Jeonghan would fill in the blanks while her eyes fall on you, your cheeks burning as others stand in the doorway of the family home.

Jeonghan laughs moving to put his arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip pulling you closer to him. “Again, my fault, I apologize. I hope you won’t hold that against your daughter or me, but if you are thinking that we are together you are correct. We have been for just under a year now.”

The two of you hadn’t discussed details of your dating life, that was hitting you now like a ton of bricks and you were incredibly grateful to Jeonghan for being so composed in coming up with a story on the spot. Glancing up at him you find yourself smiling softly making his throat tighten when his heart beats a bit faster.

Your mother’s voice cuts through you once again but you don’t look away from Jeonghan right away. “Oh! Oh my goodness, Y/N! He’s lovely, I wish you had told me. I don’t understand why you two have kept this so hush hush…”

Jeonghan grins, lifting his hand without thinking to brush over your cheek, making your mom coo out a sound of appreciation at how tender he appears with you even as he speaks. “I guess I just wanted to keep her to myself for a little while. No pressure to be anything but us.” You swallow hard nodding in agreement watching Jeonghan move to pick up the bags again. His eyes finding your mom once again letting her grab your hand pulling you closer to her.

“I’m so happy to see you with someone like this.” You laugh a bit out of nerves until you meet Jeonghan’s eyes and his smile. “I’m happy too, Mom.” Her laugh mirrors yours, her hand holding you tighter while pulling you up the stairs letting Jeonghan follow you both this time. “Okay let me get you both settled then you can introduce Jeonghan to everyone.”

The word ‘everyone’ echoed in your head all the way up the stairs and to your old bedroom where you stood still causing your mom to laugh. “Where is Jeonghan going to stay?” The laugh that escaped her lips caused you to jump slightly surprised only to feel Jeonghan behind you like a reliable rock. “Honey…I am not under any impression that if you two have been dating for around a year that you haven’t shared a room. He can stay with you, I don’t mind, besides we are tight on space. This is easiest.”

Jeonghan’s cheeks were warm this time, he had expected to have his own space away from you at least a night but he smiles at your mother leaning down to kiss the side of your head reassuringly. “This is perfect Mrs. Y/L/N. I’d rather be close to Y/N anyway.” You both watch her smile, a nod of her head when she pushes the door opening showing you the same bedroom you had used since a child. You find yourself happy you had taken down most of the embarrassing posters and changed out the bedding set a few years ago.

“Once you two are settled please come down. We are going to have drinks soon and like I said, you have to introduce your boyfriend to everyone. I know they are literally holding themselves back from climbing the stairs to get a look at him.” Another nervous laugh slips from your lips but you nod, leaning to kiss your mother’s cheek shutting the door with a small creaking sound.

Jeonghan watches you lean your forehead against the wood, his eyes curiously moving along your body while he drops the bags next to the bed and sits on it. “Y/N…she didn’t know. We are doing fine.” Your throat felt like it was closing up but you nod and glance back at Jeonghan furrowing your brows seeing him sitting on your bed. “Oh my god, how are we going to do this? You, sleeping in here, with me.”

A small sigh slips from Jeonghan’s lips, he didn’t see what the big deal was with sharing the bed but clearly it was making you freak out. Standing he glances around the room seeing a thick blanket picking it up showing it to you. “Just provide me with a pillow. I can sleep on the floor.” You felt horrible, the idea of him sleeping on the floor but at the same time it did make you calm down some. It seemed easier than sharing the bed with him.

Nodding you move further into the room while Jeonghan lays the blanket on the bed turning back towards you offering you his hand. “The others won’t be as easy as my mom. She’s easily charmed.” You watch a smirk spread over Jeonghan’s lips when he takes your hand running his thumb along the back of it lifting his brow.

“Well I’m incredibly charming, Y/N. You just keep up with the story in case we get separated. With that said, we probably need a firmer one, we didn’t really talk about that.” He watches you nod while obviously chewing on your cheek. “Okay, dating for just under a year. We’ve been friends for years, which is true. I asked you out for dinner, I’m a gentleman so that makes sense.”

When you roll your eyes Jeonghan laughs fighting the urge to lift his hand to brush over your cheek again. “Well I am, just ask your mom. So dinner, it became two then three dates and finally we just decided to become an item. You like that I paint…” You furrow your brows at Jeonghan’s words tilting your head.

“Yeah I do, so?” His fingers hold your thumb, stroking your skin gently without much thought, a laugh so smooth exiting his mouth it makes you have to hold back a shiver. “I’m just pointing out an easy point of conversation. I like how determined you are, smart, and kind…you were easy to fall in love with.”

Your brows furrow, you swallow hard finding it almost difficult to do so making your next words come out slightly strained. “Well your painting can’t be the only thing I like about you.” Jeonghan grins, raising his brow, lifting his free hand to gesture for you to continue. “Then tell me darling, what else do you love about me.”

The word love makes you pause, your mouth opening and closing one too many times making Jeonghan laugh. “God you are adorable…” When your hand connects with his chest, the smack weak but still getting your point across, Jeonghan continues to laugh, lifting both hands this time in defeat. “I…fine, I love that you are talented, your paintings, you are intelligent, charming, and deep down…and I mean way deep in your twisted little soul you are one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

It was Jeonghan’s turn to swallow hard, his cheeks burning slightly while he laughed to hide his own feelings. “See, that wasn’t so hard. This will be easy as pie. Even I have to admit looking at us this all makes sense. So…we continue to go with the flow.”

Jeonghan’s words make you take in another shaky breath, something becoming far too common for you recently. His eyes are still moving over your face in thought until you finally nod your head and meet his eyes. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. Let me just freshen up a little bit and we can go downstairs.” Watching you move from him, Jeonghan bites at his bottom lip when you move into the ensuite bathroom. At least you two were lucky enough to have that extra space to yourselves which would make showering easier on this trip without drawing suspicions.

Behind closed doors you take a few steadying breaths looking at yourself in the mirror, the water running into the sink in front of you loud enough that you hoped Jeonghan wouldn’t hear your panicked sighs. You had always been more attracted to Jeonghan than you wanted to admit to yourself much less him, and now you were stuck in the same bedroom with him for close to a week. You knew you had put yourself into this predicament and yet it didn’t seem to help you feel any less panicked about it.

By the time you come out of the bathroom Jeonghan is sitting back on your bed looking at his phone, both bags on the dresser open. “You opened my bag?” Without looking up Jeonghan nods with a sound of acknowledgement. “In case you needed something before we headed down. I was going to look for your toiletries bag but I didn’t wanna overstep. Especially since you packed your lacy things on top.”

Your cheeks burn hotter than you thought they could, a scoff falling from your lips when you move over to your bag digging through things slightly to find your smaller bag taking it out putting it down harder than necessary. “What’s wrong Y/N? I didn’t mess with them. They are pretty, shame no one sees them.”

“Yoon Jeonghan…I said to torture someone besides me while we are here. Oh my god, please stop talking about my underwear and my sex life.” Jeonghan laughs under his breath, moving to stand, finding his way to stand behind you looking over your shoulder into the mirror. “Sorry, you make it too easy sometimes. I’ll be good, promise.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror while Jeonghan lifts his hand offering you his pinky as his promise. Your brows furrow but you lift your hand linking your pinky awkwardly with his not moving to turn around. Jeonghan’s hand slides along your hip, a smirk on his lips briefly until he pulls away with a sigh. “Waiting on you, baby. I’m ready to go meet the family.”

Most of the introductions had gone much like your mother’s until you had reached your cousin Patricia. Her eyes lingered just a little too long on Jeonghan for a woman who was already in a relationship, her smirk too knowing. “It’s just so funny to me that no one knew about you beforehand, Jeonghan. Y/N is really not great at keeping secrets. In fact she’s always been a little too loose-lipped for her own good, ever since we were kids.”

Your eyes fell on her left hand, she had been moving it more than she needed to trying to get you or Jeonghan one to say something about the ridiculously large diamond situated on her ring finger. Jeonghan laughs a bit strained, his fingers pressing into your side while he takes a deep breath into your hair trying to stay calm while dealing with the woman. “Mm, you smell so good.” At his words, your cheeks burn but a smile spreads across your cheeks at how genuine he seems even as you meet his eyes.

Patricia watches the interaction only to roll her eyes at the theatrics and clear her throat. “As I was saying…” Her sentence is cut short when Jeonghan looks back at your cousin with a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips that you had only seen when he was truly irritated. “That I am a well kept secret, Trish…we wanted it that way. I liked having her all to myself. No annoying phone calls from relatives…on either side asking when we’d take the next steps.”

“Mm right, and it’s Patricia. I’d prefer that, if you don’t mind.” Jeonghan just smiles, lowering his head in a small nod that you know meant he would call her Trish a few more times now knowing it bothered her. When Patricia lifts her hand obviously to push her hair behind her shoulder, a laugh slipping from her lips, Jeonghan sighs, noticing you giving her the attention she wanted.

You hadn’t meant to look at the ring again but she was throwing it in your face and the moment she noticed you looking Paticia gasped with such fake surprise you felt sick to your stomach. “Oh, yeah, oh my god Y/N look at this. Liam proposed last week, and I just had to say yes. He really is the most amazing man I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Jeonghan watches you reluctantly congratulate her, your fingers brushing barely over hers to acknowledge the ring. “You can touch it, it’s 4 carats. Cost him a literal fortune but he said I was worth it and who am I to argue. “ Patricia’s words were starting to grate on Jeonghan’s brain, especially when he watched one of your aunts, assuming it was the woman’s mother approach and start to gush over the engagement to you.

“We are just overjoyed. We seriously expected you to be first Y/N. Your mother has honestly been disappointed every single year dear. Such a shame, but now since you seem to have a dashing young man…maybe he will make an honest woman out of you yet.” That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back in Jeonghan’s head.

“I already have, or we are well on our way.” Your brows furrow heavily at Jeonghan’s words, the two women in front of you suddenly speechless, their eyes fixated on the man standing at your side. His eyes fall on your confused ones, you watch him smile, a look of confidence on his face. “Sorry baby, I know you wanted to wait but it is the holidays. Besides…I’d rather them all know you are going to be my wife.”

As if his words were a beacon in the room, your mother was at your side within seconds. Her hands grabbing your hands looking for a ring causing your cousin to laugh in disbelief. “She’s, well, she’s not even wearing a ring.” She had a point, you thought to yourself. This hadn’t been the plan, not even in the realm of the plan. This was so far off script that you were also speechless.

Jeonghan however shrugged, a gentle smile on his lips when he met Patricia’s eyes. “We didn’t want to rub our good fortune into the face of others. The holidays are supposed to be about family and coming together. That’s why Y/N wanted to wait but after meeting you all, this felt like the exact right time to let you all know.”

It seemed to be enough to silence your cousin for the time being, Jeonghan watched her take a step back allowing your mother to step in closer to you. Her excitement obviously keeps you and Jeonghan distracted until he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes find the hand before who it belongs to only for Jeonghan to swallow hard when he meets the eyes of your father.

“Could we have a talk, son?” Your eyes were now on your father and Jeonghan even when your mother told you he would be fine and to just stay with her. “Oh..yeah I know but, uh Daddy, be nice!” Your words barely reach the man’s ears but you hear a gruff sound that lets you know he heard you request. Jeonghan wrings his hands together, his nerves taking over him more than they had the entire night when he finds himself in a corner of the living room away from most of the guests.

“Um, sir…I feel like I should apologize for just springing this on everyone. I should have of course asked for permission be–” His words were cut short when Jeonghan watches the man smile, your father’s larger hand moving to gently slap at his cheek. “I appreciate that you considered it now. I have been watching you with her, Y/N looks happy. That’s all I need or want, Jeonghan. Don’t break my little girl’s heart, that’s what I wanted to tell you away from everyone else.”

Jeonghan stands perfectly still, the hand falling from his face while the man keeps his eyes fixed on him waiting for him to speak. “I–I won’t, I swear.” Now he felt like you had when the two of you had arrived. The man was going to know he was lying, not about perhaps breaking your heart but about it all. Swallowing hard, Jeonghan puts on a smile and lifts his hand to scratch at his eyebrow in thought.

“I believe you, and don’t keep any more of the details from us. I’m afraid my wife might lose her mind if you try, and I’ll lose mine in the process of that. I look forward to meeting your parents one day soon, hopefully.” Jeonghan holds back a groan at the idea of how he was going to turn this back around after he left here. He was going to break your mother’s heart but that was something he’d have to worry about next week.

“Uh, yes sir. I’m sure they would be very happy to meet you as well.”

At the end of the night you found yourself sitting on your bed, your hands tugging at your sleep shirt in an attempt to pull it further down your legs while Jeonghan made a makeshift bed on the floor near you. Reaching for the other pillow on your bed you offer it to him when he looks up from kneeling on the floor, his eyes lingering over your bareskin without much shame causing you to swallow hard.

“Jeonghan…” You watch him smile glancing away to put the pillow down muttering his apologies though it wasn’t your intention. “No, I was just going to say, the marriage thing? What the hell? We don’t even have a ring…that wasn’t the plan. That goes way beyond you pretending to be my boyfriend, don’t you think?”

Turning to lay down on the blanket, Jeonghan makes a face to the feeling of the hard floor against his back before letting out a small sigh. “I just got frustrated at your cousin, she’s a real bitch. You looked like a deer in the headlights when it came to her, so I lost it and it just kinda happened. I’ll get you a ring tomorrow.”

It was that simple? He could just get a ring tomorrow. When you scoff, Jeonghan glances up to you on the bed, a smile on his lips at your reaction. “What? Are you mad? Everyone seemed so happy about it. I mean except Trish.” Furrowing your brows you let out a breath moving to lay down on the bed looking up at the ceiling in the low light while Jeonghan’s eyes still remain on what he can see of you even as you pull the covers over your body.

“I’m not mad, I’m just worried. That was a huge jump and it’s going to be a huge disappointment later.” Jeonghan felt that same sinking feeling he had felt when talking with your father earlier. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, and to leave you with the clean up later. “Y/N…I can try to fix–” You speak over Jeonghan cutting him off causing him to smile, his teeth catching his bottom lip.

“However, it is nice to watch Patricia not be the center of attention and get what she wants for once.” Turning on your side, you look at Jeonghan, your eyes moving across his face until he notices meeting your eyes causing him to laugh. “Then we will let you have your moment, babe.”

Shaking your head, you tuck your chin into the covers with a half surprised sound trying to get comfortable when Jeonghan calls you another pet name. “No one is here to hear you call me babe.” A smile still on his face, Jeonghan shrugs, turning his face back towards the ceiling letting a soft breath slip from his lips. “No, but I’m just letting you get used to hearing it.”

The sound of the knock at the door didn’t seem real at first. You whine not wanting to wait up, turning your face into the pillow you mutter in your sleep but then hear your mother’s voice telling you that she has breakfast in bed for you and your fiancé. “Huh?”

“I have some breakfast for you honey. Are you decent? Unlock the door and I’ll bring it in.” Panic sets in when you glance to the floor to see a still sleeping Jeonghan. Sliding out of the bed you kneel beside him and put your hand over his mouth speaking in whispers when he wakes up shocked to see you leaning over him. “My mom is here with breakfast. Get in the fucking bed!”

Jeonghan shakes his head trying to understand what is happening but another knock and the impatience in your mother’s voice sends him into a similar panic as you get him moving. You watch him move around your bed, the pillow back in its original place, his legs under the covers while you throw the blanket over your comforter trying to make it look as if the two of you had been using it for extra warmth.

“Mom, I’m coming!” Making sure Jeonghan was settled, you see him nod before you open the door and offer her a smile, your fingers pulling at your nightshirt similar to the night before when you had tried to hide your legs from Jeonghan. “You didn’t have to bring us breakfast. We could have come down to eat…”

“I know honey, but it’s already after 9 and you hadn’t come down yet so I figured I would just bring it up. I assumed the two of you were up late…being young.” You grimace at her connotation causing her to laugh while she approaches the bed, her smile on full display for Jeonghan. When he leans to take the tray of food and coffee from her, your mother coos in appreciation glancing back at you happily. “I adore him, he’s such a gentleman. Do you two have plans today?”

You start to speak, but Jeonghan is quicker with a smile on his face. “Mm yes, Y/N has promised to take me into town. Show me around a little bit, I hope you don’t mind Mrs. Y/L/N. “ Your mom laughs giddy with excitement, shaking her head with a hand on her chest. “I don’t mind at all but please Jeonghan, you are literally part of the family now. Call me Mom, I insist.”

Jeonghan glances at you then nods, clearing his throat while moving the tray so you can sit back down on the bed next to him. “Of course…Mom. I’ll be sure to get her back well before dinner.” The two of you watch your mother fuss over you for a moment longer before she finally leaves the room shutting the door with a small squeak leaving you both in silence.

“That was too close of a call. We can’t take that long to answer the door again…” Jeonghan nods in agreement, stabbing a fork into some scrambled eggs lifting them towards you, surprising you when he offers you the first bite of food. Watching you take the food he smiles a bit and shrugs. “You’ll just have to share your bed with your future husband.”

Walking around downtown in your hometown felt different this year. It always felt a little strange after being gone for a few months but this year it was like seeing it through different eyes. Jeonghan had let you point out a few stores to him, he had commented on how quant it all felt in comparison to where he had grown up and where the two of you lived now.

Now you were sitting outside of a store, a bag at your feet and a drink in your hand while you waited for Jeonghan to finish his errand. You had an idea of what he was up to but if you thought too much about it your stomach began to feel twisted up with nerves. It wasn’t real but it was terrifying how quickly you had to begin reminding yourself of that.

Jeonghan thanked the woman at the counter reaching out to take the small bag containing a velvet box. It had taken him far too long to decide on a ring, especially for a relationship that wasn’t real. His brain just couldn’t seem to tell his heart the same as he slipped the bag into his jacket pocket and headed out onto the sidewalk turning back up to where he had left you.

You were breathtaking, just sitting on a bench, the sun on your skin and in your hair. Jeonghan smiled to himself watching you for just a moment longer than he probably should have while you fidgeted with your phone almost seemingly out of nerves before he felt his own phone go off in his pocket. You had obviously sent him a text message and he couldn’t blame you. He had taken so long on his task but he didn’t take his phone out instead he pushed forward simply saying your name causing you to look up with a smile spreading over your pretty face when you saw him.

“I’m really sorry, I know that took me forever. Oh you went shopping too? What did you get?” Jeonghan glanced at the larger bag on the ground next to your feet with curiosity. “Uh I’ll show you when we get back to the house…I sent you a text just a minute ago. I was just getting worried about you. I know you don’t know this area.”

You had been worried about him, Jeonghan’s chest tightened slightly but he managed to keep a straight face putting on a slight smirk. “I found you didn’t I?” When you nod, Jeonghan sits beside you reaching for your drink, taking a sip of the coffee with a pleased sound even as you stare at him in disbelief.

“What? What is that look for? Couples share drinks, darling.” Jeonghan watches you shake your head, your head lowering trying to hide an amused smile giving him time to take out the small bag removing the box. “Mm, Y/N?” Hearing your name you think Jeonghan wants you to take your drink back but when you go to reach for it you find a velvet box in his hand instead, making you lose not only your train of thought but also your breath.

Sensing your panic, Jeonghan scoots closer taking your left hand a laugh under his breath. “Don’t make it a big deal. You might hate it anyway…” You doubted it very much but yet you couldn’t find the words to come up with a witty comeback while you watched him open the box. Your eyes move over the ring, a pear shaped diamond, the band containing more small diamonds that caught the sun in an almost blinding way.

“I mean, if you really do hate it…the lady said I could exchange it within 48 hours–” Without thinking you move your left hand from his once the ring was settled in place to place your palm against Jeonghan’s cheek. Your lips brush against his gently taking his breath away this time. When it clicks what you’ve done, the apologies start under your breath but Jeonghan laughs, shaking his head.

“Why are you sorry? Couples kiss, especially engaged ones.” All you could think was there was no one here to watch the two of you kiss. There was no reason for you to have done it but his lips were back on yours, his hand pulling you closer by the back of your neck deepening the kiss further. You feel your chest tightening knowing you should pull away and remind both of you that this wasn’t real but it felt too nice to just give into the moment.

Jeonghan smiles against your lips when you don’t pull away. His stomach flips with excitement because though he knows he should pull away he doesn’t want to. He had found himself wanting to get closer to you before this entire trip and situation but he had never known how to approach it. He had been afraid to ruin what to him seemed like the perfect friendship.

When Jeonghan’s tongue glides along yours for the first time, that is when your brain fires off a panic, a small whine slipping from your lips. Jeonghan sighs against your lips leaning his forehead against yours nodding. “Sorry…that was too much.” You wanted to tell him it wasn’t, that you were just afraid of what this all meant or what it could mean but instead you only nod.

“I promised your mom we would be back in time for dinner. I need to keep that promise.”

You found yourself surprised how with even the weight of an expensive ring on your finger, your mother fawning over you, Jeonghan caused your nerves to calm with a single look. Dinner was much more simple with less family over though you knew that wouldn’t last in the days to come. More family would be back for dinners and holiday celebrations but you could take what calm you could get. Especially if that meant time away from your aunt and cousin.

After dinner Jeonghan had been able to help you slip away without much trouble using his charm, something you were actually beginning to enjoy. Maybe you could get used to being around him more. No, that wasn’t a thought you needed in your mind, no matter how easy he was making this.

Watching him from the bed you find yourself smiling to yourself before you remember the bag you had brought home from the shopping trip now sitting in the arm chair in the corner of the room. “Oh! Jeonghan, I almost forgot.” Your voice is almost unexpected, especially with how excited you sounded saying his name, Jeonghan jumps slightly laughing under his breath when he turns to watch you crawling over the bed, your shirt riding up your legs.

Jeonghan finds himself sucking in a breath to suppress a soft groan to the image, the look of your thighs on display like this was not something he had thought he would see but he had often imagined them. “What…uh, what did you forget?” You glance over at his stuttered words, a smile on your lips when you drag the large bag on to the bed and pat next to it for him to join you.

“I bought you a present, ya know…since I owe you for all of this.” Moving towards the bed Jeonghan takes a breath, trying to keep his eyes from your legs and instead on your face and the bag once you start to take out the art supplies making his heart melt. “You didn’t seem to bring any. You are always painting back home…I thought you might miss it while we are here. I don’t think they aren’t like fantastic , but it’s something to play with.”

Sitting on the bed Jeonghan takes the brushes from your hands letting his fingers slip over yours making you shiver slightly. You meet his eyes briefly before clearing your throat returning to your task taking out a few different sized canvases, some tubes of paint, and pencils. “I know there are more things you use, and normally you’d choose oil but the lady at the store said for travel, gouache would be easier for little projects.”

You really had thought about everything, Jeonghan smiled shaking his head taking a tube of the paint into his hands looking it over. “This is wonderful, babe. Thank you…seriously.” Your stomach tightens at the pet name and how it flows off his lips even with no one watching the two of you. When you reply with a meek, “You’re welcome” Jeonghan looks up with a laugh tilting his head. “Are you okay?”

Nodding you move from your knees to pull at your nightshirt trying to cover your skin once again. “Uh yeah, no I’m fine. Just a little tired…we had a busy day.” Jeonghan’s eyes fall on your hands fussing with the front of your shirt much like your mom seemed to do with her dresses or shirt when she was lost in thought. A smile on his lips even when he nods moving to stand moving the art supplies from the bed sitting them to the side.

“Then we should call it a night. Tomorrow is going to be another busy day, or evening I suppose. Your dad was telling me that the family is coming back over for dinner.” You nod moving under the covers, your heart beating fast while you watch Jeonghan move around the bed. His eyes catching yours and how nervous you clearly were.

“I promise I’ll be a good boy. I’ll keep my hands to myself and everything.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at Jeonghan’s words, feeling the bed sink down very slightly under his weight. A small happy sigh leaving his lips at the difference between the floor and the hard floor hitting him like a train. “God, your bed is comfortable.”

You feel a bit of guilt watching him turn on his side, his face nuzzling into the pillow making you smile slightly when he allows himself to get comfortable. You knew this had to be better than the floor, you couldn’t imagine how much his back must hurt with just a blanket to lay on. “I’m sorry Jeonghan.”

A sound of tired confusion leaves his lips, Jeonghan’s eyes opening to look at you laying on your side looking at him. The sight of you like this once again taking his breath away more than he had anticipated. “Why are you sorry?” He watches you shrug slightly clearly thinking too hard with how your brows pinch together.

“I shouldn’t have made you sleep on the floor in the first place. We are both adults, that was incredibly childish of me. I just…get more nervous around you than I probably should.” Jeonghan grins, his brow raising in curiosity. He wanted to press you and get to the bottom of why you were nervous around him but he felt like he already knew the answer, he just wished you’d say it. “Mm, well don’t be so worried about things. They say things happen for a reason right?”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and turn on your back causing Jeonghan to stifle his own laugh by biting his lips. God you were so pretty even in a dark room, he had you in a bed and all he wanted to do was kiss you again but he had made a promise. “Goodnight Jeonghan.” Your voice cuts through the silence and his thoughts, Jeonghan makes a sound nodding his head a soft, “Goodnight” muttered into the night.

Jeonghan had woken up in the bed alone, he had been a bit sad about that but he wasn’t upset about how much better his back felt. He could hear the sounds of your family downstairs but he also knew there was no rush to go down. He wanted to give you time with them alone, he owed that to you. He had been on your heels almost the entire time since the two of you had walked in the front door.

Taking his time, Jeonghan took out the bag of art supplies you had gotten for him, unwrapping each one with extreme care. A smile on his lips while he balanced his phone on his shoulder letting it ring while he waited for Joshua Hong to pick up on the other end. It had been a few days since he had really talked to any of his other friends, including his best friend, and a lot had happened.

“Realize there is a time difference you, asshole.” Jeonghan laughs hearing the tired voice of his best friend, shrugging while he shifts in the floor using one of the smallest canvases as a paint pallet to hold a few different colors while he balances a larger canvas against his leg. “Morning to you too, Sunshine. I need to talk to you so get your ass up, it’s not that early. You are just lazy.”

Joshua groans, lifting his phone from his ear making a face realizing that Jeonghan was right. It was early morning but it wasn’t so early he could make too much of an argument. “I’m not lazy, I was out late having fun. You remember what that is like? Going out trying to get laid? Instead of playing boyfriend?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, his focus split between the painting he was working on and the teasing coming from the phone. “I’m playing fiancé actually…” Hearing this development Joshua sits up in his bed rubbing his eyes as if that would change what he had heard. “Pardon me? Who’s fucking idea was that?”

“Uh, mine actually. It was kind of an accident. Well not really but I’m not sure how to explain it. I was annoyed with her cousin. She’s such a bitch, trying to make Y/N feel like shit. I was tired of it so I just kinda said we were already engaged.” Jeonghan scoffed, hearing the laugh from the phone while Joshua tried to process what he had just been told.

Adjusting the phone on his shoulder, Jeonghan lifts his hand holding the paintbrush, accidentally smearing the blue paint on his cheek. “Did you tell her that you’re in love with her too during this accidental proposal?” Joshua’s words strung but Jeonghan scoffed again, rinsing his brush out more vigorously than necessary.

“I’m not in love with her, it was a crush…and I’m helping a friend. Don’t make this something awkward.” Hearing the sounds of painting, something Joshua was very accustomed to being friends with Jeonghan for so long, he raised a brow leaning forward on his bed. “Okay, did you take painting things with you on this trip? Because that is lame as fuck. Spend time with your girlfriend, I’m sorry your fiancée. And two, sure friends travel across the country to help each other and propose on accident all the time.”

When yet another scoff slips from his mouth, Jeonghan sits up looking at his works thus far before dipping into the yellow paint making a face at Joshua’s words. “No, I didn't travel with painting supplies. Y/N bought me some yesterday, when I was buying her a ring actually. As for traveling across the country, all that bullshit you just said, I’d do it for you so yes for friends, I’d do a lot.”

Joshua laughs in disbelief hearing that Jeonghan had bought you a ring but his words make his laugh fall short. “Ugh, I’d rather you didn’t. You seem perfectly happy in your relationship Hannie.” The cutesy version of Jeonghan’s name coming out of Joshua’s mouth like a taunt. “Are you that jealous, Shua? Did you want me to propose to you by accident first?”

Jeonghan laughs hearing Joshua’s complaints about how stupid he is and how he’s stuck his foot in it this time. “Yeah…I fucking know, but I’ll figure it out. Honestly it’s not bad, I…nevermind.” Joshua smirks a bit when Jeonghan stops himself from admitting anything though he wasn’t an idiot. He had known for a long time how Jeonghan felt about you even if Jeonghan himself was too afraid to admit it.

“Right, well you two enjoy the honeymoon and call me later.” Jeonghan wanted to come back with some witty comeback, something to make Joshua eat his words but the sound of the door opening behind him caused him to stop. “Uh yeah we will and I’ll do that. See ya.”

You smile seeing Jeonghan sitting in the middle of the floor, paint on his cheeks, nose, and neck. It made you happy to see him using the supplies because you knew how important it was to him. Jeonghan watches your eyes move over him and then the painting, the sound of the door closing behind you when you step further into the room.

“It’s so pretty Jeonghan. I was afraid I hadn’t gotten you enough colors to really make anything. I should have known you could make pretty much anything look good.” Jeonghan grins a bit shyly at your attention especially after his conversation with Joshua. You watch as he scratches the back of his neck only managing to smear more paint on to his skin causing you to laugh.

“Jeonghan, baby…you have paint all over you.” Raising a brow, Jeonghan feels his cheeks burn hearing you call him a pet name for the first time. Even if you were using it to tease him slightly. Leaning down you use your fingers to push at the paint on his cheek, your eyes meeting his making you shy now. The look of adoration in his eyes before he lifts his brush pushing it against your jaw playfully.

“Now you do too.” Jeonghan watches you gasp softly the feeling of the cold paint on your skin, he drags the brush along your neck raising his brow when you don’t pull away automatically. The sound of your breath hitching in your throat when Jeonghan puts the brush to the side reaching up to smear the paint along your skin with his thumb, a small laugh on his lips.

“I really want to kiss you.” Your hand slides to his forearm, your fingers pressing against his skin making Jeonghan take a breath, his eyes moving across your face landing on your lips when you finally speak. “No one is here to see it.” You watch a smile spread across his face, Jeonghan shakes his head leaning up to close the space speaking against your lips. “I know.”

Your mother seemed to notice a difference between you and Jeonghan. How he would reach out to hold your hand, lean over to kiss your cheek more often, and mostly how you couldn’t stop looking at him. She hadn’t doubted your affection for the man before but now it was so clear to see that she had to keep herself from staring at the two of you the entire dinner.

On the other side of the table, Patricia had only shown up with her mother. Liam had been called away on business, which seemed to be a usual occurrence for him. You had to admit you felt bad for her though at the moment you couldn’t find yourself caring that much especially when she was still doing her best to try to ruin your “moment”.

“The ring is cute, a bit small. The clarity seems a bit lackluster. You know Liam went to New York to get mine…” Jeonghan laughs softly against your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it. You can hear him barely mutter, “this bitch is getting on my last nerve” before he glances over to your cousin with a sigh. “New York you say? That’s fascinating, Trish.”

She watches as Jeonghan slides his hand delicately along yours, the ring catching the light, nothing wrong with it at all, in fact if put beside hers there was much left to be desired in comparison. Jeonghan had clearly put thought into your ring, not only to make sure it was nice but also about how it would look on your finger. “Not to brag but there’s nothing but clarity to this ring. It’s a French cut pavé diamond, 4.28 carats to be exact, vvs clarity grade. What did you say yours was again?”

Having not expected Jeonghan to have all the details of your ring and for it to be that nice, Patricia simply mutters her first name trying to remind him not to shorten it once again but Jeonghan smiles leaning to kiss your cheek again. “Anyway, the most important thing is how beautiful it looks on Y/N. I just wanted something that could come close to matching how stunning she is.”

You hear Patricia scoff then her mother’s hushed voice telling her to calm down. Your eyes finding your mother’s amused glance before she lowers her own trying not to laugh. Jeonghan grins against your hair muttering his apologies for taking it too far only to feel you shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’ve never seen her crumble so fast. She’s furious. Thank you for letting me feel like I’m special for once.”

Jeonghan’s smile fades slightly, lifting his hand to brush his knuckles against your cheek. All he could think was how much of a shame it was that you had to only feel that now. “I’ll try to make sure you feel like this more often, darling.”

You listened to the sound of the shower running from the bed, a book on your lap though you hadn’t read a single word. Your eyes looking over the diamond on your hand remembering all that Jeonghan had said about it and you the past few days. All that had happened the past few days. It felt like a whirlwind and as if you had been watching a movie. Like you were watching your life from the outside in.

Furrowing your brows, you sigh leaning your head back against the headboard not really noticing the sound of the shower cutting off or the sound of the door creaking open. Jeonghan watches you, shorts low on his hips, his chest still damp, a towel in his hand lifting it to his blonde hair to push it through catching some falling droplets.

You once again were taking away his breath by doing nothing. You had said you were going to read after your own shower. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you, give you some time to yourself, but now here you were, the book on your lap, but you were running your fingertips over your ring. It made Jeonghan’s chest tighten, his heart beat faster.

Jeonghan tosses the towel gently into the hamper, his eyes finding his now dried painting, a woman draped across a bed, she looked suspiciously like you but you hadn’t commented on it. His lips turned up in a slight smile when you made a sound of acknowledgement realizing he was in the room with you once again.

Your eyes travel over his bare back, the light from the lamps catching some stray water he hadn’t caught with his towel that made you want to run your hands over his skin to push it away, but you didn’t dare move or speak. Jeonghan turned back towards the bed, his eyes much less shy than they had been before when it came to you in this room.

He let them skirt over your leg on the outside of the comforter, up to the nightgown you had chosen to wear tonight instead of an old loose shirt. A smile pushing up at the corner of his lips when he walked around the bed crawling on to it to take the book off your lap closing it even when you start to complain. “You weren’t even reading it.”

“I might have been…besides, why did you take it?” You were asking silly questions and you both knew that. Jeonghan’s hand slides along your side causing your brows to furrow, your body instinctively sliding down in the bed slightly. “Jeonghan…we can’t. This isn’t real, it will ruin our friendship.”

Jeonghan furrows his brows, shaking his head, he would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Stopping, his hand resting over your hips, Jeonghan glances up letting his nose brush against your, his wet hair dripping still on to your skin. “We can but if you don’t want this, just say it. I’m tired of pretending. You say it isn’t real?”

A whine escapes your lips, your hips lifting towards him, your hand gripping his forearm as if you are trying to keep him from moving from you. His words biting into you, his lips hovering centimeters from yours for the taking. When you press your lips to his, Jeonghan takes that as his signal to continue, his leg moving between yours while his tongue slips into your mouth with a small groan.

You barely realize you are whining when Jeonghan pulls back, a smile on his lips while he shakes his head. “It feels pretty fucking real to me baby.” You didn’t speak because you weren’t sure you could trust yourself not to give away too much. The feeling of how you should run is so present and yet all you could do was pull him back to your waiting mouth.

Jeonghan hisses against your lips when you lift your hips brushing your leg against his now hard cock pressing against his shorts. His forehead resting against yours, Jeonghan’s hand drags your nightgown upwards exposing more of your skin to him. His eyes follow his hand only for him to groan your name when he sees some of the lace on your skin that he had teased you about at the beginning of the trip.

“God you are so fucking pretty. Can I take this off?” You nod, your eyes closed tightly, almost afraid to look at Jeonghan. You feel his mouth against your neck causing you to moan his name while his hands pull at the silk, his thumbs grazing your soft skin. Jeonghan only leans back when he has to pull the gown over your head causing him to gasp out a groan seeing you like this for the first time.

When you whimper out his name in a soft moan feeling the air on your breast, your nipples hardening, Jeonghan smirks slightly leaning you back on the bed. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me…please?” You arch your back pushing your breast towards his touch, his slender fingers tracing your nipples until you finally do open your eyes meeting his waiting gaze. “I’m gonna love you if you’ll let me.”

His words cause your skin to burn, Jeonghan can feel how warm you become, your thighs closing around his leg making him smile. “Please?” One word, a soft beg slipping out of your lips is almost enough to drive Jeonghan crazy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever make you beg, no matter how pretty you sounded doing it. He wanted to give you everything.

The feeling of your fingers running through his damp hair, the tug of the ring causes Jeonghan to groan, his lips pressing to the top of your chest before he works his way lower. His eyes glancing up at you at every small sound falling from your lips. When his tongue laps around your nipple, you lift your hand to bite at the meat of your thumb, a groan from his mouth causing a vibration to radiate through your skin.

Jeonghan lifts his head to take a breath, shaking his head to the sight in front of him. The way your chest was rising and falling, the way your lips looked around your hand. Your eyes had closed again but Jeonghan knew you could feel where he was and where he was going. You whine out when you feel his mouth near your belly button, his fingers twisting the band of your panties around them slowly working them down your hips.

It had been so long since you had been with anyone, and even longer since anyone had taken the time to really appreciate you like Jeonghan was. His soft lips brushing over every inch of your stomach and hips while he helped you lift your hips, pulling the lace along your legs. You open your eyes again when you feel him sit up, hearing him groan and mutter under his breath.

Jeonghan runs his hand over his mouth, dropping your panties behind him with the other. “I know I wanted to see you in the lace but this is so much better. Holy fuck, baby…” You start to speak though you aren’t sure what you were even going to say when you feel Jeonghan’s hand run along your inner thigh towards your center.

You were so wet, Jeonghan could see that but he had to feel it, taste you. Watching Jeonghan move on the bed, you whine at the loss of him but it’s quickly replaced with wonder while you watch him take off his shorts allowing you to see him for the first time. Jeonghan watches you swallow hard, a bit of pride taking over him. While he knew he wasn’t the biggest in the world, he didn’t have any reason to complain.

Watching him run his hand over his cock, you slowly let your eyes move back to his finding him watching you so intently. Jeonghan moves towards the chair where his jeans lay discarded to take out his wallet and a single condom making you laugh for the first time in a while. “Hey, it’s not funny. I’m just prepared…”

Jeonghan tosses the silver square onto the bed near you before he is moving back towards you himself. You reach out to touch him, your hands running over his shoulders causing Jeonghan to shiver, a smile on his lips when they press to skin once again. Feeling his fingers brush between your legs, you gasp in slight surprise arching off the bed. “Are you okay?”

Nodding you meet Jeonghan’s eyes, a smile on your lips, his fingers resting against your thigh just to make sure. “I..yeah, it’s just been a long time and I am nervous.” Jeonghan smiles, nodding in understanding. His lips meet yours gently so he can mutter against them between kisses. “I’ve got you. I’d never hurt you, you just tell me if you want me to stop or if you really like something.”

Jeonghan’s lips claim yours even while you nod, his fingers creating a v to rub along your wet folds separating them causing you to pull back from the kiss leaning your head back. Given access to your neck, he doesn’t waste the opportunity to explore your skin there, his tongue gliding along your skin up to your ear while his middle finger circles your entrance.

When Jeonghan feels your nails press into his skin, he takes that as you having had enough of his teasing, you moan so sweetly to the feeling of his finger pushing into you that his cock twitches. Your brain is on fire with feeling overwhelmed and aroused when Jeonghan’s shaft rubs against your thigh, his pre-cum smearing across your skin you can’t help but to reach between your bodies to wrap your fingers around him letting him slowly thrust into your hand.

With a choke groan against your throat, Jeonghan brows furrow tightly to your touch. The way your soft hand feels around his cock, if it were possible to be any harder he was sure he would have been in that moment. Your warm breath against the side of his head, Jeonghan has to reach to take your hand from him afraid you will cause him to cum too soon. “Too good baby, fuck. Scoot down in bed for me?”

You nod and Jeonghan slides back helping you to move further down into the bed, his hands sliding along your legs to push them apart so he can slide between them. “God there is so much I want to do with you.” His words cause you to shiver, his hair beginning to air dry tickling your skin while he works kisses back down your body. Jeonghan’s right hand moving to pull your calf onto his shoulder, his eyes meeting you once more before you feel his tongue run along your slit.

“Fuck, Jeonghan…” The words were so soft, a whine on your breath, Jeonghan felt like his head was floating hearing you whining for him. The taste of you on his tongue driving him to push his face in closer to you using his free hand to separate your folds giving him access to your clit. When his lips wrap around it, a tiny bit of pressure as he sucks, you squirm trying to close your thighs but find it impossible without squeezing his head between your legs.

Jeonghan grins against your pussy, groans of appreciation, muttering how fucking good you are when he presses his finger back into you, making you gasp his name. Your fingers digging into the bedding under you and his hair between your legs, pulling just enough to make him groan a bit louder. “Gonna…oh god…”

You were doing your best to stay quiet, Jeonghan didn’t know why that was turning him on even more, spurring him on to push you harder in a way. But when he knows you are about to cum for the first time, Jeonghan groans, nodding against you, adding a second finger feeling you stretch around them right before the coil snaps causing you to gasp out the most erotic sound he had ever experienced.

Your fingers shaking against his scalp from how intense your first orgasm felt, you only loosen your grip when Jeonghan moves to slide up your body, his lips finding yours again. You moan to the taste of yourself on his lips. His hand moving to grab the condom on the bed, you only feel him part from you again for a moment so he can open it and roll it down his length before he is back between your legs.

“You’re perfect, did you know that?” His words cause you to look away, turning your face even as you feel his hand move between your legs, the head of his cock lining up with you. Jeonghan’s free hand moves to your chin turning your face back towards him, a groan on his breath when he pushes into you, “Look at me, please, baby? I wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you.”

The words didn’t cause your skin to burn any less, you wanted to look away but found it impossible when you met his eyes, your lips parting in a silent moan to the feeling of his cock stretching you as he thrusts in fully. “Oh my god…” Jeonghan moves his hand to run his thumb along your bottom lip, his hips getting into a rhythm when you wrap your leg around his hip allowing him to go deeper and harder.

“Feel so good, God…I’ve wanted this for so long. Such a fucking idiot for waiting this long.” The words are spoken on a groan, Jeonghan’s forehead resting against yours. His breath becomes shallow with each thrust and how your body pulls him back into you. “Fuck, Y/N…I love you. I should have told you that before this too.” You close your eyes, feeling tears gathering on the rim of your eyes, you weren’t sure what he wanted you to say. Especially right now, in this situation, he was just lost in the moment.

Lifting your hand you push it against his cheek, lifting your head to meet his lips in an attempt to make him stop talking, which seems to work. Jeonghan groans into your mouth, feeling you tightening around him, your walls quivering as you get close to another orgasm just as quickly as he was approaching his own. He wanted to keep telling you how he felt because it felt like the right time but your kiss was just too sweet, the way your bodies were fitting together was too perfect.

You whine on his lips falling back over that edge, your nails raking across his back causing him to hiss into the kiss. Jeonghan buries his face in the crook of your neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic and shallow but with one last hard, deep thrust you feel the warmth of him spilling into the condom. His hot breath causes chill bumps to spread across your skin, your fingers running through his hair at the back of his neck while he comes down from his climax.

After a few moments, Jeonghan pulls from you and slides from the bed taking care of the condom heading into the bathroom where you hear the sound of running water. You run your hand over your face, contemplating how many mistakes you had just made. Tears finally slip from your eyes when his words echo through your head once again, “I love you. I should have told you that before.”

“It isn’t even real.” You mutter to yourself running your hand over your face pushing the tears away.

Jeonghan could tell you were putting on an act with him, more so than you had before. A frown on his face when you pulled away from a kiss to your cheek even in front of your family, Jeonghan sighed, reaching to take your hand. You let him slide his fingers along yours but you avoid his gaze until he says your name and he can see the sadness in your eyes.

“Baby, are you okay?” No one was close enough to hear the two of you speaking but it was still good out in the open to keep up the act you supposed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why Jeonghan?” You watch him furrow his brows leaning back some to look at you a bit more. “You have been acting strange since this morning. Is this about last night? Do you regret it?”

When you look away, Jeonghan feels his heart sink slightly. You did regret it, you didn’t even have to say it. “Uh, well fuck. Okay…well I don’t. I meant everything I said.” You scoff barely meeting his eyes, how could he say that when you knew the type of person Jeonghan was. He and Joshua would go out every weekend, sometimes even more during the week to pick up girls to get laid so how was this not just another exploit for him or just the feelings of the week getting to his head.

“No you didn’t Jeonghan, and that’s okay. I don’t blame you for that. None of this is real…one more day of this and you will be free to get your head clear of me.” You lift your hand knowing people were starting to watch you, pushing your thumb along his cheek trying to hide his disappointment.

“It’s real, Y/N. Why do you get to say it isn’t?” Shaking your head, you knew this wasn’t the place for this conversation. You weren’t having this conversation when he was drunk on an idea. Standing you take your hand from him and put on a fake smile. “Because I’m a realist.”

Your mom followed you when you walked away from Jeonghan as if she could sense the tension. Jeonghan stayed where he was for a few moments longer, shaking his head before heading outside to clear his head. You were wrong, you were fighting against your own feelings for some reason that Jeonghan couldn’t understand.

He had never been this vulnerable with someone in his life. You literally had his heart in your hands and he wasn’t sure what you were going to do with it.

The next day the both of you had different motives. You were trying to act like you were the happy engaged woman you were supposed to be while Jeonghan had to act like he wasn’t trying to figure you out. In the bedroom you were even more distant. Barely willing to speak to him other than to discuss flight details, and how you were sorry for putting him through this.

Jeonghan wasn’t sure how many different ways he could explain to you that there was nowhere else he would want to be. He wanted to reach inside of your head and shake your brain to make you see things for how they were and not like you were seeing them. Instead he relied on being kind and gentle with you simply reminding you that this was real and how much he cared about you.

The day of your flight, Jeonghan watched you hug your mom and dad, his heart sad at having to leave knowing you were sad doing the same. There was so much love in the house when it was just your immediate family and he could understand why he had fallen in love with you so easily so long ago and how it had been so easy to admit it to you now.

Leaning down to hug your mom, Jeonghan laughs at her kind goodbye and requests for him to help you keep in better touch with your family. “I will do my best. She’s pretty stubborn when she wants to be.” Your mom laughs, her eyes full of love when she meets Jeonghan’s eyes reaching up to pat his cheek. “Yes she is, you will have your hands full, dear.” That much he knew, but it’s all he wanted, that opportunity to be the person who shared that with you now.

Getting into the car after helping you in, Jeonghan glances over to you frowning when you turn your head in order to avoid his gaze. “Y/N, can we please talk about this? We are going to be stuck on a plane for hours, you can’t just avoid talking and looking at me for 5 hours.” You could, you think to yourself but you knew you were being unfair to Jeonghan.

Your fingers play with the ring on your finger while the car heads down the highway towards the airport, your eyes finally looking up to meet Jeonghan’s. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been awful the past couple of days. I did warn you that what happened might hurt our friendship. You are a wonderful man…I feel like I took advantage of you this entire time.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, starting to speak when you reach over to take his hands, placing something metal into his palm. He didn’t need to look down to know what you had put there, he felt his heart sink, tears threatening his eyes but he kept them at bay nodding. “I wanted you to keep it. You didn’t take advantage of anything and I don’t think anything hurt us. I’ve told you, this is real. It’s real for me.”

Shaking your head you glance back out of the window while Jeonghan looks down at the diamond ring in his hand. “You just feel that way right now. You are too close to me, once you get some time away from me…you will realize we both just got a little caught up in it all.”

He wanted to argue with you but the lump in his throat wouldn’t allow it. Instead Jeonghan remained silent, his fingers playing with the ring until the car pulled up outside of the airport. He put it into his pocket and helped the driver to take out the bags letting you take yours when you requested it. Jeonghan’s eyes fixed on yours the entire way through security and while you waited for your flight.

He hadn’t taken the ring back out until the plane was in the air. You had fallen asleep, your head unknown to you resting against his shoulder, Jeonghan let the light from the window catch the diamond to make patterns on the seat in front of him. He felt sick with all the things he wanted to change, all the things he wanted to say. How could he make you understand?

By the time the plane was landing, Jeonghan reached to run his hand over your cheek, waking you up gently with the ring tucked back in his pocket. You could tell something was different about him but you weren’t willing to ask, afraid you would break his resolve or your own. “Sorry…” You mutter realizing you had been leaning against Jeonghan who shrugs only offering you a smile.

“You didn’t bother me, I’m just glad you got some rest.” He was too kind, you could still sense the sarcastic man under the layers but there was this new wall built. Nodding, you clear your throat glancing away, your thumb subconsciously playing with your ring finger, missing the feeling and weight of the ring on your hand.

Jeonghan helped you with your bag and with making your way to the front of the airport where the two of you had agreed to part ways after the trip. Watching you closely, Jeonghan sighs when you start to speak but end up stopping yourself several times causing him to speak instead.

“Y/N, don’t say anything until I finish. Can you do that much for me?” You nod, tears already prickling your eyes. The urge to turn and run causes your feet to ache but you manage to stay still with your eyes on Jeonghan. “You say it isn’t real, that what happened wasn’t supposed to happen. I disagree, because to me this is, or was very real. I’ve been in love with you for years but I was too stupid and prideful to say anything. I guess that’s what got me in this mess right now. So I can’t really blame you for reacting like you are.”

Jeonghan feels his stomach turning when tears build in your eyes, he hadn’t meant to make you cry but he had to finish what he was saying. “But I can’t make you love me back, I told you’d I’d never hurt you and I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to do.” Standing your ground, even as Jeonghan moves forward you let out a small whimper when he takes your hand and you feel the cold metal in your palm.

“I bought it for you for a reason.” Your eyes close when Jeonghan leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, you feel a slight wet feeling to his cheek when he turns to walk away. Your eyes open when the panic starts to set in, your gaze dropping to the ring in your hand feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“Wait….” Your voice is so quiet you barely hear it yourself but when you say it again and yell his name dropping your bag, Jeonghan turns around surprised to find you running towards him. His own bag hitting the ground he is ready to catch you, his arms wrapping around you, his lips meeting yours.

Jeonghan lifts his hands running his thumbs along your cheeks between kisses trying to push away your tears whispering, “Shh, it’s okay baby…I know.” You shake your head reaching up to grab his wrists pulling his hands down, he can feel the ring back on your finger when he meets your eyes again hearing what his heart had been longing for for years.

“It’s real for me too. I love you too. I’m sorry. It’s real…”

Jeonghan smiles, nodding his forehead resting against yours while he tries to calm you down, his mutters echoing your own. Joshua watches from his car, leaning against the driver’s side with a sigh at the sight muttering to himself, “Bout damn time…glad I cleaned out my backseat. Told him I’d be taking them both home.”

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#jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svthub #caratwritersclub #svt smut #jeonghan angst #seventeen angst #svt angst #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #jeonghan fluff #svt fluff #svt x reader #svthub.collab #snowventeen #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic

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yoonia · 3 months

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A Christmas Fix — 02 (m) | kth

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, fake dating trope on the side, minor body insecurities (implied), fight scene, some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, pregnant sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 29,410 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Author Notes | And we're finally at the end. Thank you so much for everyone who has read part 1, and those of you who have been so patient with me. I'm sorry I had to wait for a day to post this. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the journey to see how this story ends :)

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: ⤎ previous chapter

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

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The house has been quiet all morning.

There is only one day left before Christmas Eve, and everyone has been busy for the past couple of days. Your mother and Honey are hosting the Christmas Eve’s family dinner this year, with close relatives from their side of the family joining in, so everyone has been busy going around and about to prepare for it.

After days filled with all the bustling activities, it feels like you finally have some downtime. With both of your parents gone—your mother is out with Honey to shop for a couple of necessities needed for the event, and your stepfather out doing some errands, assisted by Taehyung in place of Hansol—it feels like you can finally breathe easy.

While the pre-Christmas rush helped smother the loud thinking constantly happening inside your head, the silence that you are experiencing now feels comforting. The underlying tension that is also present, however, isn’t so much.

When you agreed to stay home and help out with the rest of the Christmas baking still needed to be done, you didn’t expect that Alia had volunteered to stay behind and help too. So you have been using this silence as a protective shield.

Almost an hour has passed since the two of you started getting busy in the kitchen. No meaningful conversation has been shared so far, aside from the times you had to talk through the recipes together or talking about passing things over. The only sounds that are keeping you company are the occasional sounds of kitchenware hitting the counter, the shuffling sounds coming from both you and Alia as you move around the kitchen, and the burning oven behind your back.

Slowly, you are beginning to enjoy this routine, finding calmness in the steady rhythm of baking and cooking which helps quiet the voices in your head. Too bad it doesn’t last long enough for you to relish it when Alia suddenly speaks, bringing up something other than the task in your hand for a change.

“I’ve been wondering for a while, but you look like you had a rough night. Is your stomach still bothering you?” she asks, breaking the silence.

To say that you are caught off-guard seems like an understatement. And you have no idea how to respond to her question. For her to suddenly ask something personal is completely unexpected.

It’s not that the two of you never had an actual conversation with one another like a pair of normal human beings. It’s just she never seemed to truly care or have any interest in getting to know about you other than the stories shared at family dinners with your parents around.

It’s making it even harder to answer when you have this underlying guilt brewing inside you. A feeling that comes from hiding a secret that keeps getting heavier to carry. And you are afraid that the moment you open your mouth to speak, they will all come spilling out of you.

You wish you could just lie to her face. Tell her that everything is fine so you can continue working in silence.

But when you look up and actually look at her, she seems—genuine, in her concern, and almost as much with her curiosity.

But there is no malice or pretence in her question that you find yourself reaching out to accept the olive branch that she is offering you and answer, “It’s—okay. I mean, it’s been pretty rough the past few nights. I think it’s because of the lack of sleep I’ve been getting.”

And you’re not completely lying. Because the past couple of nights have been rough. But you couldn’t possibly explain to her why.

Alia scrunches her nose, oblivious to this. “I heard from Honey that you get this way when you’re stressed out. Has work been stressful for you lately? I mean, with your latest work promotion, I can only imagine that you’ve only gotten busier lately.”

You purse your lips and avoid her gaze, once again biting back the secret that is threatening to slip out.

“Maybe—” you start to answer, “I haven’t been eating well, and I’ve messed up my sleeping schedule so bad lately, that it’s been hard to fix it even when I’m home. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I woke up with a headache this morning.”

Alia frowns. “Have you been taking meds? I have some vitamins that may help you sleep better. I’ve been taking them lately to—”

Thinking about taking vitamins makes you cringe. The doctor’s warnings come floating through your mind—reminding you that you should be wary of the medicines and vitamins to take, as they may not be safe enough for the baby in your belly, her warning about keeping your stress level low, and her reminder of watching over your diet at the beginning of your pregnancy.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t usually take medicines or vitamins to help me sleep,” you gently refuse. Even without your doctor’s warnings, you know that nothing could really help you with your sleeping problems.

Because the truth is, your nausea and ‘stomach bug‘ haven’t been the sole reason why you have been having trouble sleeping as of late.

It was Taehyung.

Ever since you came across Taehyung that night in the hallway, memories from the night of your wild hookup have been coming back to you. They have been haunting you at night, whether you were sitting in bed wide awake or when you were deep in your restless sleep.

When sleep failed you, you would be left spending long hours recounting every action and every conversation that you could remember. Every single detail had been coming back to you in bits and pieces jumbling together, and you would spend the next long hours trying to piece everything together. You went through it all to answer the resounding questions that are still messing up with your mind.

How many times did we do it that night?

More than twice, for sure, you recall each time you try to look back. Was it three, or four times?

You remember feeling sore and tired the next day, yet you were content enough to sleep the whole flight away towards your dream vacation with your whole body humming with the waning pleasure. And while you weren’t completely drunk that night, you were surely tipsy enough that you were unable to memorise every single moment with a clear mind.

But the biggest question that you have yet to answer—

He really did wear condoms that night, didn’t he?

You remember watching him roll the condom down the length of his impressive cock. It wasn’t really a memory that you could easily erase, no matter how tipsy-minded you were that night. Not when the way he did it left you completely transfixed.

For some reason, everything about the first intercourse you had with him remains vivid in your memory. Because it was the first time for you to ever feel that kind of pleasure. To feel wanton and free with someone who was willing to help you open up a part of you which had been locked and sheltered during the long period of time you spent in your past relationship.

The second time always seems a bit blurry. But you can still recall waking up to his sinful lips devouring your sore pussy in the middle of the night.

He claimed it as a way to make up for the rough and dominating way he took you the first time and the lack of foreplay. So he spoiled you by giving you pleasure through his mouth and tongue and the work of his fingers, before he fucked you gently, slowly, until you were arching into him and crying out his name once again as he helped you embrace your slow rising climax.

And the third time—

“Um, earth to ________.”

Alia’s sharp voice pulls you out of your dark thoughts. Her curiosity seems to grow more palpable, and so does the concerned look you see on her face.

“Are you okay? Seriously, you don’t look so well. You keep spacing out today and now it’s like you’re burning up or something.”

With a gasp, you reach up and touch your cheeks, quickly realising that she is right. You are burning up. Except that instead of burning from a fever, your body is growing hot from the inside for a different kind of reason.

You are burning from being drowned in your dirty thoughts and recounting all the pleasure that you felt back then. To be thinking about all the wanton things that you shared with—

Your eyes fall open as you draw a shocked gasp. Realising too late that you are thinking about your stepsister’s new boyfriend while she is sitting right in front of you. Guilt pierces through your chest right at that moment, and you quickly rise from your seat.

“Excuse me, I think I need to cool down a little bit. I’ll be right back,” you quickly say to her before slipping away from the kitchen without waiting for her response.

Needing distance from Alia, you rush to your bedroom upstairs, finding solace in your safe space as you lock yourself in it. The feeling of shame washes over you. You can’t believe that you had allowed yourself to think of dark, sultry thoughts while you were sitting right across your stepsister.

Worse yet, that doing so made you feel aroused.

The same thing always happens each time you think back about that night. As if your body has memorised what your mind has failed to remember. Each memory of his touch brings back sparks on your skin, reigniting the same reaction that he managed to draw from you then.

By the time you lie down on your bed, the heat in your body has spread all over the place. Even to the places that you didn’t expect to be affected, as it spreads down between your legs.

At the same time, your skin seems to be humming with need. There is a desire that has been awakened simply by reliving that night in your thoughts, which would be impossible to quench.

You close your eyes, and immediately feel as though you are under a spell. Your hands begin to move on their own, searching for the source of the heat rushing within your body. They continue travelling their way down, following the pulses that you feel emerging from your core.

You slip one hand down your pants, reaching down until you feel skin. A gasp threatens to come out when the tips of your fingers are met with dampened skin. Just as expected, thinking about that night and the things you did with Taehyung then has made you wet.

Your fingers tremble, and your heart starts pounding like crazy as you continue touching yourself. Slipping your fingers across your slit, you make use of the slickness that has formed to slide back and forth, playing with yourself until you feel only pleasure. A shudder erupts through you as you stroke your clit.

You shouldn’t be doing this. But before you can stop yourself, an image of his face hovering right above you comes to you. In that moment, you are back to the night when you were with him.

The fingers that are touching your hot center are no longer yours. They may not be the same size as his fingers, and not as firm, but your memory easily replaces your dainty digits with Taehyung’s longer and wider ones as you push them into your throbbing core.

There is a voice in your head that keeps telling you how wrong for you to be doing this. How inappropriate for you to be thinking naughty thoughts about someone who isn’t yours and pleasuring yourself with it.

But your body wouldn’t listen.

Your hand continues to move, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy while your hips push back against them. The pleasure rises, increasing quickly the faster you move your hand, the more you ride your fingers like an animal in heat.

And you don’t stop until your orgasm starts building. It keeps growing stronger, until everything within you snaps.

As you fall into bliss, his face is all you see. His voice is the one you hear instead of the soft, muffled moans coming out of your lips, whispering to you the same sweet soothing voice that he gave you that night while you were succumbing to pleasure.

“Good girl. You’re amazing, Red. Rest up, and we’ll play again once you’re ready.”

“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.”

You start to roll your eyes before you remember that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. For the past hour, you have been on the phone with your roommate while you were hiding from your family.

Locked in the safety of your bedroom for the second time today because you still couldn’t get over the mortification that has fallen upon you after this morning’s blunder.

Having your arousal slowly pooling between your legs by the mere thought of Taehyung and the sinful deed you shared with him seemed scandalous. Allowing it to happen while you were sitting right in front of his girlfriend, someone closely related to you, made you feel as if you were more deserving to be burned in hell rather than sharing the joy and laughter of Christmas.

And instead of brushing those nasty thoughts away, you took it one step further by seeking pleasure with the touch of your fingers. With your head filled with thoughts of Taehyung and while your stepsister was waiting downstairs for you to return.

Shame and guilt plagued you once you were done. And you were also too sated and tired to even function. But you couldn’t hide in your bedroom for long. Doing so would only cause people to grow suspicious of your behaviour, and you already gained enough unsolicited attention to let it happen.

So after cleaning yourself up and wiping off any remnants of your misdeed, you put your big girl pants on and went back downstairs to finish the Christmas baking with your stepsister. This time, you kept to yourself more, avoiding as much conversation with Alia while you continued to pretend that nothing happened while you were away.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to be alone with her for far too long when everyone returned from their outing.

Masking your shame no longer became a struggle when you stopped being the main focus of the room. Everyone was busy with Christmas Eve’s preparation; your mother with the holiday decorations, your stepfather with his handiwork as he went out to fix the porch and the locks on the front door, while you and Alia remained in the kitchen to finish baking.

Honey stayed nearby, as she sat at the kitchen counter, watching everyone doing their own thing while she was nursing a mug filled with steaming hot cocoa and sharing the most recent gossip about the old ladies living in her apartment complex.

While all of this was happening around you, you were blessed with the absence of Taehyung, who was said to have gone back to the motel where he and Alia have been staying to finish some work before Christmas Day.

You didn’t question it, trying not to care too much about him and making use of him being gone to try and forget everything that had happened.

But then lunchtime came, and he returned just in time to rejoin your family for the meal. Seeing his face again, hearing his voice, watching how your stepsister kept being all touchy feeling with her boyfriend and clinging to him all the time gave you an unpleasant feeling that you felt sick to the stomach.

That was when you rushed back into your bedroom. You convinced yourself that you weren’t hiding from them. That you simply needed some time alone; alone with your thoughts, to gather your wits, and calm your nerves that had become unsettled during lunch while he was once again sitting right across the table, subtly watching you when others weren’t looking.

But being alone with your thoughts hadn’t been quite helpful.

Your mind kept wandering into places that you shouldn’t dare to visit. You needed someone to talk to. To vent and get everything out of your system. And Skye, who is currently on the other side of the country to be with her family, was the best option to call.

And yet, after telling her everything that has happened and keeping her up to date with the latest developments, you are starting to regret calling her.

“Do tell me why you, of all people, would call this catastrophe a miracle?” you ask her while pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head feels tense, although you are relieved that it has somehow stopped pounding after sharing all of the drama to your roommate through the phone call.

You can hear the subtle sound of her humming to herself, contemplating her answer. “I mean, think about it. We already made an elaborate plan to track him down, to the point that we nearly booked a ticket to go back to the place where your flight made a stop for transit in case we can’t easily find him,” she says with the same no-nonsense tone of voice that she always uses when she is laying out all of the facts, “and then he suddenly appears, right at your family’s home, as if saying ‘Here I am, look no further’.”

She laughs, and you can picture her shaking her head when she adds, “Tell me that’s not a miracle.”

Instead of answering her, you only bite your lips. It does sound almost too good to be true. Except for the one simple fact that is impossible to ignore. “You’re forgetting the fact that he’s here as Alia’s plus one. I’d say it’s a curse, instead of a miracle.”

You can her chuckling bitterly on the other side of the phone. “And once again, I’m going to say that I don’t envy you.”

You let out a groan as you fall back on the bed. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know, sweetie,” she says, comforting you with a sigh. “It’s just so absurd to think about all the coincidences happening around this baby business.”

You close your eyes, hating the fact that she’s right. There are too many coincidences happening around you, and it’s astonishing to think that everything could come to this point.

“Yeah, it does sound absurd.”

“I’m just sad I’m not there to witness it,” she says, laughing, while you barely have the energy to scoff at her.

For the longest time, Skye has always been the one you turn to whenever you need someone to vent about your ordeal with your stepsister. But compared to the other times you clashed against Alia, this one surely takes the cake.

“You haven’t told him about the baby, have you?”

You wince. “No,” you answer with s sigh. “I can’t think of a way to do it.”

And you have been avoiding being in the same room with him to even have the chance to talk about it. Not that you would have found that chance anyway if you did, as Alia has always been by his side. You suddenly remember the way Alia suddenly sidled to his side when he was alone at a time, making a complete show about her doting on him.

Grimacing, you shake the image out of your head. “I’ve thought of different scenarios involving me talking to him and revealing about my pregnancy, but everything has changed now that Alia is involved in this.”

Skye grows silent for a moment. “Just tell him,” she says. Her voice softens, which only means that she is being serious about this. “The sooner the better, even more so because he is involved with Alia. It’s better to let him know now rather than later, once they’ve been dating longer and the baby is here.”

You bite your lips again, refraining to tell her that you had thought about the same thing. “He did say he wanted to talk—”

But he never made it clear what he wanted to talk about. What is there to talk about if he still has no clue about the baby? Is he trying to convince you again not to let Alia know about your past hookup? How would that work if you’re having a baby together from that hookup?

You hate to admit it, but being kept as a secret feels—painful.

“Well—” Skye hesitantly says, “It’s not like you’re planning to have an actual relationship with him, right?”

Her question makes your stomach drop. Have you ever really had any hope of having a relationship with him, just because you are expecting a baby with him?

Thinking back to the night of your hookup makes you look back and relive the emotions that you felt that night. You are sure that you felt a connection with him that night. A connection that you never felt before with anyone else. It felt real, yet you denied it simply because neither of you had been using your true identities when you climbed on that bed together. It had seemed to you that both of you had only wanted that night to be a one-time thing.

The sparks you felt with him had also been real, and you are quite sure that you felt them again the last time you were alone with him in that hallway, when he confronted you after the first family dinner that you shared with him. Sometimes, you can also feel that same sparks coming back whenever he is in the room, no matter how far away you try to distance yourself from him.

Could it be that somewhere along the line, you had unknowingly harboured hope that you could be together again? When did this happen?

Or did having his baby growing inside you make you think that you could somehow build something real with him, to develop the connection that you felt that night into something else entirely?

Is that why seeing him with Alia has been bothering you so much? Not only because you are hiding this secret, but also because nothing can come out of it once you come clean to him?

Not for the first time today, you feel like you’re about to throw up.

You only had one night with him. You keep reminding yourself this, hoping that it will be able to snap you out of the silly illusion that you had allowed your mind to possess.

“No, I just want him to know about the baby,” you answer weakly, hoping that voicing this promise out loud would help put an end to your wishful thinking. To stop it before it gets too far.

“But having this baby with me while he’s dating my stepsister will complicate things. And things are already complicated between me and Alia.”

“Right,” Skye sighs on the phone. Knowing exactly what you mean without you having to say it out loud.

Over the years, Skye had both witnessed and heard every single spectacle that had become a major part of your relationship with Alia. You can tell that she understands what to expect once this thing blows up.

“You’re right. I can’t imagine how she’ll react,” you hear her say, before releasing an overly dramatic sigh, and you immediately know where this is going. “Maybe she wouldn’t have hated you so much if you didn’t break that doll of hers when you were a kid.”

You scream into the pillows while she laughs historically on the phone. “Why do you have to bring that up?” you groan, hating yourself for sharing this with her during one of your late-night drinking fests. “Out of all the ludicrous things I shared with you, that’s the one crossing your mind right now?”

“Hey, you were the one who brought it up first. How would you know that it wasn’t true?”

“How could you possibly remember that when I barely could?” you whine out loud.

One drunken night was all it took for you to disclose the severity of your childhood crime. Even if you barely remember the details of it. Thankfully, your roommate had been the only witness to listen to your drunk confession.

“It was an accident that happened ages ago, and I already told you that she couldn’t have possibly started resenting me for years because of that ugly doll.”

Because it sounds ridiculous if you think about it with a sober mind. And you refuse to believe the disdain that Alia has shown you for years had all stemmed from the small incident that happened when you were a child.

At nine years old, your small family—originally consisting only of you, your mother, and your sweet grandmother, Honey—suddenly expanded. Everything changed for you the day your stepfather, Cliff, came into the picture. Not only did he fill the void that was left behind by your late father, but he also brought with him another girl, and you suddenly had an older sister to play with and to look up to.

A few years older than you, Alia appeared in your eyes like the coolest kid you have ever met. Beautiful, smart, witty, though she could act a bit snobbish whenever you tried to play with her, yet she still shared her bedroom, her toys, and sometimes her collection of dolls.

One sleepover, a pair of clumsy little hands, and a ripped old doll later, everything turned the other way around. It happened so long ago that you eventually forgot about it. As Alia entered high school, she rarely came to visit her father, and the incident was simply overlooked with all the other things happening in your life soon after.

The moment she came back into the picture, Alia began acting differently towards you and your relationship was quick to turn dreary.

Forced smiles and tensed, courteous chats. The hard and solemn look coming through her eyes that she would always reserve for you when others weren’t looking, always at the times when you earned everyone’s attention or when you accomplished something good in life. Plotting schemes by arranging her own agendas to match the significant moments of your lifetime—graduation days, birthdays, anniversaries—oftentimes forcing Cliff to have to choose between being there for you or to be by his biological daughter’s side, while mostly finding excuses to miss out on your important dates altogether.

After another incident where she caused another drama back home years ago, you came back to your apartment with an opened bottle of tequila and spent the night drunk-venting with Skye.

Somehow, as you drunkenly wondered why your stepsister would treat you with so much disdain, that small incident from a long time ago came back to mind. And that moment, it seemed that your subconscious linked the incident with the way she treated you years after, and you let it slip to Skye for her to later make it a running joke between the two of you whenever you came to vent about your stepsister drama.

But really now…all of that hate and drama over a doll?

As if that would justify the way she has been treating you for years. It also makes you wonder if last year’s incident had anything to do with that as well.

Shaking your head, you hate to think of what kind of hell she will be giving you once she finds out that you are carrying a baby from the man she’s been flaunting around since the day she came home.

You shudder at the mere thought of it.

“You know that my offer still stands, right?” Skye suddenly questions you, much to your relief, as she changes the topic right before your head begins to ache again. “If things get too hard or if he wants nothing to do with the baby, or if he mistreats you at all after knowing that he got you pregnant, we can still run away and raise the baby together. Maybe Europe is a bit too far, and too cold for me, so how about Australia?”

Unprepared to hear her comment, you immediately erupt into laughter. Like always, your best friend knows how to ease your mind. The tension that comes from the stress is lifted, and so are your worries.

It doesn’t change the fact that you are still going to have to face the music the moment you are given the chance to, but at least you are starting to see some light waiting at the end of this.

“Running away sounds awfully tempting right now, I’m not going to lie,” you murmur into the call, knowing that Skye can hear you perfectly. But she wouldn’t be able to see it as you rise from your bed and reach out to the beside table, picking up the sonogram which you had gotten right before you left for home.

Running away does sound tempting. But it is not the choice that you can make. And you won’t.

You are going to have that talk with Taehyung and tell him everything. Soon. You just need to be ready to face his reaction and the consequences of what the truth might bring.

As much as you kept telling yourself to prioritise finding the chance to speak to Taehyung, all of your bravado simply vanished by the time you rejoined your family for dinner.

Sitting down at dinner, once again taking the front row seat to watch Alia making a good show of being the doting girlfriend, as she kept clinging onto Taehyung while he was trying to keep his composure in front of you, you felt suffocated.

And you couldn’t escape it.

You had done it once, masking your discomfort with your sickness. And then doing it again a couple of more times under various excuses while everyone was spending time together.

Despite feeling like you wanted to run away, you were running out of excuses and there was nowhere for you to hide. Even once dinner is over, your attempt to escape unnoticed quickly fails when Taehyung finds you first.

“What are you up to now?” you nearly snap at him as Taehyung slips into view, intercepting you when you are about to slip past the backdoor, hoping to get some fresh air.

Pursing his lips, he hides his smile and shrugs. “Nothing, just trying to see what you’ve been up to.”

You squint your eyes at him, finding him suspicious. “Does Alia even know you’re here? Cornering me instead of chaperoning her out there?”

As you cross your arms over your chest, challenging him with your question, Taehyung simply stares at you with an amused look in his eyes. “You know, everyone is in the living room and they’re wondering where you are. Honey is about to make a show of making that rum cocktail that she was bragging about at dinner.”

An overwhelming feeling of craving and queasiness comes over you as you picture Honey and her rum cocktails that you would normally enjoy during the holidays. You swallow the tightness in your throat and force a smile. “So you offered to look for me?”

Taehyung grins, making it seem like he has no fault whatsoever for being where he shouldn’t be. “I’m currently free, so why not?”

You scoff at him and shake your head when you fail to hide your smile. “Yeah, well. I doubt that they’ll be missing me.”

There’s already Alia in the room with them to steal the show and everyone’s attention anyway, you silently wonder.

And yours.

Surprisingly, a frown forms on his face upon hearing this. “That’s where you’re wrong. Honey kept asking for you. Said something about making a special recipe for your, um…stomach bug,” he says with a small smile, and then lowers his voice to add, “and I also wondered why you weren’t there.”

Your heart makes a sudden leap inside your chest. “Thank you for caring,” you say to him with a sarcastic tone of voice, trying not to look deeper into it or feel to happy about him looking for you.

Having the flutter in your chest gives you more reason to walk away. “Please tell Honey I’m sorry that I can’t join her tonight. I’m not feeling up to it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks before you can get away. “I remember that you enjoyed drinking sweet cocktails the last time we met. With how Honey kept bragging about it, I’m a bit curious to try the drinks she’s making. Don’t you?

Of course, you would be interested, you wonder. But I can’t possibly drink whatever it is that Honey is concocting, even if I feel like I need a glass of whatever she is offering.

But he doesn’t need to know that yet—or should he?

Suddenly, you start doubting yourself. You can feel the words hanging by the tip of your tongue already, the urge to spill everything to him right this moment grows so strongly as you look at his smug face.

So what if he wanted to wait until the time is right to talk? When is the right time to talk about this?

You take a quick glance around, noticing that you are all alone with him. This would be the perfect chance to tell him about the pregnancy, wouldn’t it?

“Maybe her cocktail can help you feel more at ease and less—tense,” he suddenly adds with a hint of a teasing tone in his voice that rubs you the wrong way, taking away every good will you ever have of talking to him properly about your ordeal.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve dinner. There’s going to be enough drinking then,” you say to him while gritting your teeth. But you know that it would be highly unlikely that you are going to drink even then.

You realise that you will have to find more excuses tomorrow to avoid any alcoholic drinks being passed onto your hands. But you can figure that out later. You first need to figure out how to share him the news.

“You should go back. Alia would be looking for you by now,” you say to him with a bite while avoiding his eyes as you try to walk around him, yet he stops you from running away again.

This time, he isn’t using his words.

Your entire body freezes as he catches your wrist. Once he knows that he has gotten you right where he wants you to, he starts pulling you gently back to him. You look up at his face, surprised that he would do something so daring when he was the one who had been so adamant about keeping your history with him a secret.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, yet you don’t make a move to pull away. You throw a quick glance towards the hallway leading to the living room, worrying that someone might suddenly show up. “Are you crazy? What if someone comes here?”

Taehyung steps closer until you can feel his warmth engulfing you. He only stops once his chest is merely a few inches away from yours. His move seems menacing, and so does the look in his eyes as he looks at your face.

Those are the same eyes that had been looking back at you that night. You get to see the same look you saw then. Passionate. Enthralling. He grounds you with nowhere else to go even without having to restrain you to him, only refraining you from escaping him with nothing more but the look in his eyes.

Suddenly, the room feels tight. As though there is not enough air in your chest for you to breathe, much less to speak. And he is getting too close for comfort.

His hold on your wrist loosens, yet he doesn’t pull away. The dark look in his eyes also wanes, and he looks almost as if he is in pain when he leans down, getting even closer until your faces are almost touching each other.

“Is it making you feel uneasy that I’m around? Is that why you keep running away from me when I’m there?” he questions you with a voice so soft that you would have missed it if he hasn’t been this close, with his lips hovering close to yours.

So close that you can almost feel his kiss, even without touching. Each word he murmurs to you sends your skin shivering, while the cavities inside your chest seem to tighten on themselves when he whispers, “You might be able to ignore it and pretend nothing happened, but I can’t.”

You take a sharp inhale of breath. What is he saying right now?

Suddenly, you feel as if you have just walked into a dream. The same feeling that you had that night returns to you; all the sparks that seem to be floating in the air around you; the way your head seems to be in a haze, as if his entire presence is intoxicating you.

And his words are making your head spin.

Once again, you feel as if you are under his spell. But at the same time, you feel irritated at him for doing this. For choosing to act like this now, when he was just holding hands with your stepsister just moments ago.

While your irritation lights up, he rubs his thumb across your wrist, and the sparks explode around you like fireworks. “Tell me you’re not feeling it too.”

And just like that, his voice snaps you right out of the spell that he placed on you. Closing your eyes, you suck a deep breath and try to compose yourself.

“This isn’t right. Alia is in the next room,” you grit your teeth. You open your eyes and glare at him. “You were the one who told me not to tell Alia about us. Was that not your way of telling me to forget everything?”

Taehyung’s eyes grow wide and he slowly pulls back. To his credit, his face is filled with shame when you remind him of his own words.

Leaning closer, you whisper to him, doing your best to keep your voice from shaking when you question him, “Or do you make it a habit of jumping from one woman to another as long as it’s convenient for you?”

He winces. Once again, he looks pained after hearing your accusation. “We’re going to talk. Once the time is right,” he whispers. He clenches his jaw, looking tense for a moment until he lets everything go with a sigh. “But you need to stop avoiding me.”

You rear back, not expecting to find that he has noticed that you have been deliberately keeping your distance.

How are you going to explain to him the reason why you can’t possibly stay in the same room with him?

For you, the reason is quite obvious. You are still feeling it now, when your skin feels tight and your chest grows warm the longer you are in close proximity to him. Even when you entered a room once he left, you could still feel his presence lingering around you, and it was starting to drive you insane.

And yes, seeing him with Alia bothers you so much that you can never bear being there to witness it.

After your last conversation where he made it seem like he wanted to move on and forget everything, you thought that he would only notice Alia and wouldn’t care to notice your predicament. But obviously, he isn’t completely oblivious to your turmoil.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you insist.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he questions you with an accusing tone. “I don’t think I imagined it when I saw you turning away and running out of the room whenever I came in.”

He is right, and you find it impossible to lie about it when you barely tried to hide it.

Tired of holding out the truth, you finally admit to him with a small voice, “No, you’re not imagining things. Do you really think it’s fun for me to watch you both together with Alia getting all over you the entire time you’re here?”

The light in his eyes dims. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he sighs, “I’ll talk to her so she can tone it down.”

You shake your head and chuckle bitterly. “Don’t bother. She’s your girlfriend. I’ll be out of here right after Christmas anyway.”

This makes him frown. “Look, ______,” he starts, but you are too exhausted to deal with this right now to listen.

“I have to go,” you whisper as you pull your hand away. “We’ll have that talk—”

Because there are a lot of things that I need to tell you.

“And then I’m gone and you can go back to Alia with her family thing on Christmas Day. But tomorrow night, we talk. Right after the family dinner.”

Not bothering to wait for his response, you turn and walk away, once again leaving him behind in that dimly lit hallway as you search for solace, somewhere far, far away from him.

Taehyung has been restless.

He has been feeling uneasy for days. The truth is, it has been like this for him since the moment he stepped foot into Alia’s father’s house and saw you standing there. It has been a struggle to hide it and keep everything in. But last night, after talking to you again, the urge to speak to you about everything and explain himself has been growing even stronger.

The look that you gave him when he first saw you has been haunting him, weighing him with guilt. Ever since that night six weeks ago, he has kept your smile deeply ingrained in his memory; the coy smile that you gave him as you flirted with him at the bar; the sultry look you wore when you clung onto him at the elevator while testing his limits with your lips tracing his neck; the content smile that he saw on your face the morning after the long, passionate night he shared with you before he took you again one last time.

And yet, the smile that he kept wishing to see again for the past month was not there when he finally met you again. The expression that he has yearned to see had been replaced with shock, as you stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlights, while at the same time, you also seemed as if you had just witnessed someone kicking your puppy.

Which was quite understandable, looking back at it now. It must have been a complete shock for you to see him entering your home, holding Alia’s hand and introducing himself as her boyfriend. Just as shocking it was for him to find out that you are Alia’s stepsister.

Fuck, how did things get so messed up?

”You’re not ready yet.”

Taehyung has been so out of it when he enters the motel’s bedroom that he fails to notice Alia watching him. Sitting right in front of the dressing table, she barely gives him a glance as she is busy putting on her makeup and doing her hair for the night.

Normally, she doesn’t take this much time getting ready. But Taehyung understands that tonight is different.

According to Alia, the family’s Christmas Eve dinner is a small annual gathering that is quite important for them. Held on behalf of Honey, who often spends the holiday with Cliff’s side of the family. It is when family members and second cousins would come to her Dad’s house to celebrate both the holidays and Honey’s good health.

Ever since early this morning, Alia has been saying how she needs to look as her best self tonight—spoken in her own words—because she wants to make a good impression on her stepmother’s family. The only problem was that she also made it clear that she wanted Taehyung to play his role as her boyfriend perfectly, to continue to show that they have a great relationship right in front of everyone, just the same way he has been doing it for the past few days.

It shouldn’t be bothering him so much that she would ask him to do this. Since that was the main reason why he is here in the first place.

The original plan had been simple. All he had to do this holiday was to accompany Alia on her trip home to see her family. The family gathering from her mother’s side has always been so stressful, and he simply wanted to help her lessen the pressure so she could enjoy the holidays for once.

Yet her mother’s special Christmas gathering tomorrow had not been the only thing that was bothering Alia before this holiday came around. Once Taehyung agreed to be her plus one, she extended her desperate plea for help by asking him to come with her as she spends Christmas and the upcoming days to it with her father’s family before heading to see her mother.

He can’t remember well what Alia told him about having to be here. He understood the reason when it came to her mother, but he barely knew anything about her father’s family. He remembers her talking about something that had to do with clearing her name. Obviously, he should’ve paid more attention, and maybe he should’ve taken the time to know more about Cliff’s family.

Not that it matters now. When he has travelled all the way here for this, and now he is stuck in this mess without having any clue how to fix it.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung blinks. “What?”

Alia doesn’t say a thing at first. For a moment, Taehyung wonders if she notices anything when she tilts her head at him, finally looking directly at him as if she is trying to read him.

Yet he is proven wrong when Alia merely sighs. “I just said that you need to get ready,” Alia says, unaware of the battle happening inside Taehyung’s mind. Before he can say a thing, Alia averts her gaze and looks back at the mirror as if she is trying to solve a puzzle. “You need to look your best if you’re going to stay beside me and we’re going to be late if you’re not moving it.”

Chuckling to himself, Taehyung walks over to stand right behind her. With his face appearing in the mirror, she has no choice but to look at him. “Should I wear my best suit tonight, then?” he taunts her as he leans down, breathing in her perfume that is a bit too extravagant to his liking.

I was right, this perfume is nowhere near my taste, he says to himself, while he silently recalls breathing in your perfume and thinking just how much it suited you.

Alia looks up at him through the mirror and rolls her eyes. “You can wear whatever. A suit would be too much, since we’re having the dinner at home, not at some fancy and way too expensive restaurant like how my Mom would have it. You did bring your suit, didn’t you? Wear that at my Mom’s party tomorrow,” Alia instructs him, and for some reason, it doesn’t make him feel good about it.

Usually, he wouldn’t take it to heart and just laugh it off when she acts this bossy around him. Not this time, however. The entire situation has made him grow a bit resentful to her, something that he has been realising for a while now, even if it isn’t fair for her to be treated this way when it wasn’t really her fault.

Alia keeps her eyes on the mirror when she continues to speak to him. “Wear that black jacket that you love so much. You always look good in it,” she says, flickering her gaze in a teasing way when she adds, “Even I would swoon when I see you wearing it, and that doesn’t happen a lot.”

Taehyung scoffs at Alia and lowers his head to avoid her gaze. The black jacket brings back a lot of memories. He didn’t think much of it when he brought it with him on this trip, but maybe a part of him already felt that he would be needing it.

Would it be okay to wear it tonight, right in front of her?

“Are you okay?” Alia’s voice snaps him out of his musings. As he looks up to meet her gaze through the mirror, she surprises him by not only softening her voice, but looking as if she is worried about him. “You know, you don’t seem like yourself lately.”

How nice of you to notice, Taehyung wonders to himself but bites his tongue so he wouldn’t let those words slip. He has been wondering for a while now just how she could remain oblivious to everything that has been happening around her.

If only she would notice how uncomfortable he feels whenever she clings to him, or how their act in front of her family bothers you so much.

Maybe she does notice it, he muses. Maybe she’s been doing it on purpose by pushing it on him. Does it have to do with—

Before Taehyung could finish his own thoughts, Alia seems to have enough of his silence and turns on her seat to look at him straight in the eyes.

“What is it? Spill.”

Taehyung only continues to remain silent, having no idea how to answer that question or if he should try to. Even if he can explain himself, where should he even start?

Is this the part where he needs to tell her that her stepsister—the reason why Alia decided to come to see her Dad after spending weeks complaining that she didn’t have any desire to, and also the reason why she is trying so damn hard to impress everyone this holiday, even to the point of bringing Taehyung home to meet her family—was his last sex partner?

“You need to tell her.”

Taehyung closes his eyes as your voice echoes through his head, as if you are the voice of his conscience.

You were right. He needs to tell Alia about his connection to you. But knowing her mood swings, and the reason why she has been trying to be ‘perfect’ the entire time she was spending time with Cliff’s family, he was hoping that he could postpone talking to her about it until tonight’s big family dinner is done.

An event that Alia claimed to be more important for her than her mother’s fancy family gathering.

No, I need to talk to her first, he decides. Maybe we could figure something out once she knows everything.

“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed. You didn’t tell me—” he stops himself as he almost let it slip that it was your presence that bothers him.

You didn’t tell me anything about your stepsister.

He keeps those words to himself. But he makes a mental note to bring it up once he gets back to her again by the end of the night to have a different kind of conversation to the one he is having with you. “So, black jacket, huh? Got it.”

“Good, now go get ready and make it quick. The trip from here back to Dad’s house will take some time,” Alia says with a sigh as she turns back to the mirror, her concern is quick to vanish as she proceeds to complain, “We could’ve spared that trip if you hadn’t insisted that we stay in this motel instead of using the guest room like me and my Dad suggested.”

“I already told you,” Taehyung says with a deep chuckle, leaning back down again to whisper, “I’m a terrible actor.”

He straightens up while looking pleased with himself for drawing a frown on Alia’s face. “And being in your Dad’s house the entire time we’re here would cost me too much work. The gig would’ve been up before you know it.”

“Fine, whatever. Just go,” Alia waves him off.

Taehyung nods and makes his way to the door. He stops before he opens it and asks her, “Remember what I asked earlier?”

Once again, Alia rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah, tone it down with the clingy girlfriend act. I get it. Now go get ready, we’re going to be late.”

Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief to hear it. He can’t seem to forget the way the light in your eyes seemed to dim when you talked about the way he kept putting on the new couple act in front of you. On top of this whole mess, the last thing he wants is to leave you feeling hurt by his actions, so he made a deal with Alia to tone it down, even if he couldn’t explain to her the reason why.

Pleased to know that Alia is listening to him for once, and that he has at least one problem handled before tonight, Taehyung leaves Alia’s motel room, closing the door behind him with a click before he goes to his own room to get ready.

You turn to your side and have a good look at yourself in the mirror. On instinct, your hands run down your belly, pressing down gently at the spot where the baby should be.

The knitted dress that you have chosen to wear tonight may not be the fanciest one, but it is the one that feels comfortable on your skin. It isn’t tight enough on your body to make you feel self-conscious about yourself and definitely not enough to show the changes happening in your body.

With just over six weeks of gestation, the baby bump isn’t showing that much yet. But you can still feel the way your body is changing. Perhaps it is all happening in your mind, only from knowing that you are keeping a living being inside you, but you can almost see it when you look at yourself in the mirror that you cannot help but try to do anything you can to hide it from your family.

For now, at least. Only until you are ready to reveal everything to them.

Thinking about this only makes you grow more anxious. You have been feeling this way since morning, all for the thought of having to face Taehyung again, and to finally talk about everything that is needed to be said before the night ends.

“Tonight,” you tell yourself as you straighten up to look at your reflection in the mirror for one last time. “I’m going to tell him about the baby tonight.”

Tonight will be the only chance you will ever have to talk to him, after all.

Tomorrow, Taehyung will join Alia to visit her birth mother. Alia’s mother has always held a massive luncheon or dinner event on Christmas Day that Alia would be required to attend, so you doubt that she would miss it this year, even if you had always overheard her complaining about it to your stepfather.

Every year, Alia would always prioritise her mother’s family event over her father’s during the holiday season. Coming from a wealthy family, Alia’s mother had always appeared to you like a different breed. Her holiday parties had always been so fancy, almost too extravagant compared to your family’s simple ones.

Every year, Alia would focus on preparing for those events, always stressing about it before going, and barely focusing on her days spent with her father and his family that it did come as a surprise to you when she came early this year to join your family and to even get herself involved.

Perhaps that was the reason why she had decided to bring a date with her this time around, and to introduce her boyfriend to the family like you did with your ex.

Shaking the thoughts of Alia out of your mind, you finish getting ready and walk over to your purse. With gentle fingers, you pull out the sonogram that you had printed during your latest trip to the doctor.

Holding it up under the light, you brush your fingertips across the blurry image of your growing baby. Sometimes it is still hard for you to process the fact that you are carrying a human child within you. Even through the nausea, the cravings, the lethargy, and any other peculiar things that have become parts of your life as of late, you still have a hard time grasping this fact.

But this sonogram shows you the undeniable proof that the baby is there. You had even gotten the chance to hear the baby’s faint heartbeat on your last appointment, making it clear that you are carrying a life inside you.

A life that seems so fragile, that you have developed a strong urge to protect it from the world. Even from its father, if he ever tries to deny or reject it.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper to yourself while brushing your fingers on the picture again, speaking of it like a mantra. At the same time, it also feels as if you are talking to your baby, soothing it like you would if the baby is here with you. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s just get through tonight first.”

For a moment, you contemplate between carrying the sonogram with you or to leave it here. With no purse or a pocket to hide it in, you finally decide to leave it on top of the bedside table until you are ready to show it to Taehyung later tonight.

With one last look at the mirror, you rub your palms down your dress and give yourself the final pep talk before heading out. “Let’s go,” you whisper to yourself as you walk out of your bedroom, strengthening your shoulders and keeping your chin up as you prepare yourself to face the inevitable.

It’s finally Christmas Eve.

The holiday spirit hasn’t completely sunk in on you until you finally sat down at the table for the annual Christmas dinner, surrounded by your immediate family and the family members that you haven’t met for a period of time while you have been pursuing your dreams away in the city.

Outside, the temperature has dropped down even lower than before. The layer of snow that your stepfather had spent hours shovelling away are piling up with fresh ones as snowflakes keep falling from the evening sky, while the windows would tremble once or twice with the flowing breeze that seemed to have picked up as the day turned into evening.

Inside, however, the warmth of the festive season fills the air, as everyone gathers around the overflowing feast that has been set up on the table—your grandmother’s specially made ham and turkey with the additional main of lamb skewers and turkey meatballs, Aunt Dara’s potato bake and baked salmon, and Uncle Marco’s signature casseroles, with smaller bowls of side dishes set on the side.

A couple of bowls of the fennel salad that you helped prepare are being passed around on the table. Once everyone is done with their meal, your home-made cinnamon bread rolls and your cousin June’s apple and caramel pie are ready to be served as desserts.

Once everyone has filled the dining room, your mother’s Christmas decorations which you perviously thought was overdone no longer seemed as much. The twinkling lights and the fragrant pine garlands adorning the room are enough to rival the festive sweaters and bright-coloured dresses that everyone is wearing for the night. The scent of cinnamon and cloves wafts around you all the way from the kitchen, and it makes your head swim even without sipping on the champagne that are being passed around.

As everyone took their seats at the table, you stepfather stepped aside to let Honey take the head of the table as the matriarch of the family and the night’s host. The radiant smile on her face which never seems to wane sets the mood in the entire room, helping you to also forget about your personal troubles that no longer seem as dire as your mind had made them up to be.

The laughter and chatter filling the room becomes the perfect distraction that you need to pay no heed to the unwavering gaze that Taehyung keeps stealing your way. Even as he chats with June who had sat down by his side, Taehyung continues to throw a few not-so-subtle glances your way, making you feel uneasy and self-conscious whenever you aren’t having your attention dragged away from your younger cousin, Maya, who is chattering right beside you while sipping her glass of champagne.

You turn your gaze at Alia, who had chosen to sit by Cliff’s brother, Kyle, who had decided to join your family this year. Too busy catching up with her uncle, she doesn’t seem to notice her own boyfriend’s wandering eyes. She doesn’t even seem to care as much as she should, you realise, as you have also noticed that she hasn’t been clinging or openly doting on Taehyung throughout the night since they had gotten back from the motel.

It has given you a sense of relief, because you can finally have one night where your heart isn’t being crushed from watching them together, but also a twinge of guilt, knowing that your last conversation with Taehyung may have had something to do with it. She did appear tense when she first came in, and you never figured out why when it quickly faded the moment she saw her uncle in the room, and her stiff expression quickly turned into relief.

The sounds of glasses clinking and the pouring champagne continues on as everyone is starting to finish their meal. Nursing the glass of fresh juice that you have had all through dinner, you hope that nobody notices that you have left the glass of champagne on your side mostly untouched—apart from the occasional raise of the glass when someone makes a toast or pressing your lips lightly on its rim to disguise the fact that you are not drinking any drop of it.

Not too long, dinner is over, and everyone filters into the spacious living room to gather around the fireplace while the kids loiter around the Christmas tree to curiously shift through the wrapped presents to try and find which one of them would be theirs.

There are a selective few that separate themselves to head out to the back porch to smoke and talk business—mostly your male cousins—while the others quickly follow Honey to where she has set up the minibar for her signature rum cocktails and act as the designated bartender for the night.

As you follow to join everyone in the living room, the impending conversation that you are about to have with Taehyung keeps weighing you down, making you grow more anxious with each passing second. It makes you feel vulnerable, causing you to be hyper-aware of his presence inside the room even before you catch the sight of him mingling with your family.

Moving one feet after the other without tripping feels like a struggle under the heat of his gaze. It bothers you to no end to notice that Taehyung seems to have disregarded any last bit of subtlety, when he is now openly staring at you even while he is chatting with someone else by the Christmas tree.

You have no idea if anyone, especially Alia, has noticed it. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone has caught on, when he makes it so obvious that he is watching you from across the room.

The only reprieve that you have to cover you from Taehyung’s gaze and the silent questions that may linger within any observant pair of eyes would be your grandmother, Honey, who steals most of the attention by running the show as she mixes her sweet cocktails and shares new stories about her friends back at her apartment complex and gossips that she heard recently from the neighbours here.

“Congratulations.”

A deep voice greets you, pulling you out of the stupor that you are in. You look over to see Kyle, your stepfather’s younger brother, coming to your side.

It was a nice surprise to see him this year to join your family gathering, as your step-uncle has been working at another state for the past year and you haven’t seen each other since. Carrying a glass of wine with him—red, just the way he enjoys it—instead of a glass of cocktail, he gives you a warm smile that looks like a mirror image to his older brother.

“I heard from your Dad that you just got another promotion. I’m guessing that this gathering is part of the celebration too?” he asks, while your skin warms at the mention of your stepfather.

For as long as you could remember, you have been calling Cliff as ‘Dad’. You can no longer remember how it started, but ever since you were little, the only ‘Dad’ you have ever known has been Cliff, not the birth father who had been gone almost your entire life. He may not be your birth father, and there has been no talking about him adopting you yet, but he is the one and only Dad that you’ll ever know.

Having someone else noticing and acknowledging it feels gratifying. Especially when it is coming from his side of the family.

Nodding your head, you answer your step-uncle with a bashful smile. “Yeah, that’s what Honey said and she insisted that we host the annual dinner this year instead of Aunt Dara. But we all know that she’s the main star of the show,” you joke with him as you nod your chin to point at Honey, who is teasing your mother about dropping rum into her hot cocoa instead of taking one of her sweet cocktails.

Kyle laughs with you as he watches the scene. “Still, you should be proud of yourself.”

“Oh, I am proud,” you answer him with a smile. “I worked hard for it, but I’m feeling a bit guilty too since the busier I had gotten, the lesser I was able to make time to contact my parents.”

Your step-uncle nods. “You can’t help it. That’s often the cost of building a career,” he says, understanding your situation, as he too has the same troubles of making time for his family with his busy life.

“But your parents would understand. In fact, your Dad has been bragging about his girls quite a lot lately. One who keeps traveling across the globe to see the world, while the other who keeps climbing the corporate ladder, and I have to say—” he sighs, “I’m kind of jealous.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Has he now?” you chuckle a little, somehow feeling good about being your stepfather’s pride. “Oh, you shouldn’t be feeling too jealous of Dad. You know your kids are doing great too. They’re both in college now, aren’t they?”

At the mention of his children, Kyle’s eyes seem to grow brighter. He speaks with a voice full of pride as he talks about the two young boys who had just returned from the back porch and now huddling in front of the fireplace to warm up while bickering on their own.

You stay to talk to him for a while longer, until your stepfather steals him away to share a bottle of a much stronger liquor in another room and you continue to mingle with the other family members that you haven’t met for a while.

By the time you are done catching up, the object of your frustration—who is coincidentally also the father of your baby—forgotten, you are feeling drained and your legs are giving up from standing for too long that you unceremoniously collapse on the couch in the corner of the room without a single care.

For a moment, you find calmness by sitting on your own, staying in the corner where you are mostly unnoticed. The festivities is still high around you, but you find freedom here, away from everyone’s attention. Too bad that you aren’t given the chance to savour it when someone decides to slide in and sit right next to you.

“So—I suppose that aside from the cocktail tasting, the gift exchange is going to be the main part of the night’s event, huh?”

A shudder rocks through your body. His deep, distinctive voice does that to you even when you hear it in your dreams. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself before turning to him, hoping that you have enough strength to look at his face without feeling like your heart is about to burst.

Slowly, you turn to look at him, and immediately, your entire body betrays you. Your heartbeat picks up, and the cavity in your chest is overflowing with gentle flutters, as if there are a thousand of butterfly wings inside you coming awake with just one look at his face. Taehyung lets his gaze linger on the children who are showing off their wrapped gifts to their parents before looking back at you.

Your cheeks burn the moment your eyes meet each other, and you look away before it gets too much. “Yes, we’re exchanging gifts before the night ends, and then everyone will go on their merry way. Some drunk, while relying on their designated drivers or a cab, and some others to continue with their own thing back home,” you explain to him while trying to keep your voice calm. “It started mostly with Honey being the one giving out the gifts on the Eve, since it’s her thing to give something to everyone she cares about.”

A smile is lifted on your face while you watch Honey handing out small wrapped boxes of gifts to the children first before the older ones get their turns. The cheerful laughter shared by everyone who has received Honey’s special gifts fills the room. Curious expressions that quickly turn into joy has always been the high point of these Christmas gatherings in your family.

You should be there to join them, to enjoy the festivities, yet with everything that has been going on, you are feeling too overwhelmed to take part in it. “After a while, the relatives who are often invited to these things started joining in, bringing in their own gifts in addition to the plates of food that they bring for dinner.”

“Sounds like so much fun,” Taehyung muses. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

“Why are you sitting back here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Alia?” you question him as you wonder why he would be so daring to join you instead of staying by his girlfriend’s side and play his role as her plus one. “You could’ve asked Alia about these things.”

Taehyung grins. “She’s busy with her own thing. Besides, every time I ask her about these things, she would just brush it off and tell me to ask someone else.”

Frowning, you find his comment to be odd. It isn’t something that you could expect to hear from a new couple such as them. Lest of all from one half of the couple that haven’t been shy with their constant public display of affection from the day they arrived.

Once again avoiding Taehyung’s gaze as he looks at you again, you find Alia across the room, conversing with one of Kyle’s sons. Judging from the way she seems to be enjoying herself with the glass of cocktail in her hand, she doesn’t seem to care much about what her boyfriend is up to, much less to feel curious enough to find him.

That’s odd, but it’s not really my problem, is it?

You remind yourself and put your curiosity aside. “You could’ve asked Honey. You seem to have grown closer to her lately,” you tease Taehyung, pointing out how often he has been spending time with your grandmother whenever he isn’t busy helping others in the house or catering to Alia’s need for attention.

Taehyung chuckles softly. “How could I bother the host of the party? Look at her enjoying herself. She’s the superstar tonight, so I’d rather not take her out of the spotlight just to be my guide.”

Even without looking, you can hear the smile in his voice as he talks about your grandmother. And when you look ahead, you can obviously see that he isn’t completely wrong.

Honey is clearly having the time of her life; whether it’s about watching the happy faces receiving her gifts or seeing people enjoying the drinks she is making. She may have lessened her own drinking habit—except for the occasional drop of rum that she sneaks into her hot drinks—but she still knows how to make amazing sweet and fruity cocktails for others to enjoy.

That should explain why you have the penchant for sweet alcoholic drinks instead of the bitter ones whenever you feel like it.

“So,” you turn to Taehyung with a sly smile. “I guess that means I’ve earned the honour to answer your questions?”

Taehyung seems surprised to see that you smiling back at him. His gaze softens, and so does his voice when he leans closer to say, “You’re the only person I know in this room.”

Fuck. Your cheeks shouldn’t be getting warm just because he says something like this. You look away to hide it. “Is Alia the jealous type? Would it bother her to see us chatting as friendly as we do now?”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t think she even bothers to notice. Not tonight, anyway.”

“Yeah…she can be the least perceptive person in the room sometimes,” you sigh as you watch your stepsister joking with her cousin without a single glance at her boyfriend. Realising what you just said, you turn to Taehyung to apologise. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine,” he scoffs. “Trust me, I know it full well from experience.”

There is a sarcastic tone in his voice that should have made you wonder about his comment. Yet there is a bitterness that you feel inside after hearing those words. Of course, he would have enough experience dealing with Alia’s attitude.

They are dating, after all.

You look away and bite back that bitter taste in your tongue. “Right, of course.”

Unlike Alia who can be completely insensitive to her surroundings, Taehyung notices your change of mood right away. You feel him sliding closer, just enough to allow him to speak in a low voice, but not enough to make people grow curious or suspicious that something is going on between the two of you.

“You promised that we could talk,” he says, almost a whisper under the noises around you.

Your stomach feels tight with nerves. It’s time. “I did, and we do,” you say to him while clenching your hands. You are beginning to wonder if you had made the right decision of leaving the sonogram behind. Maybe bringing him back to your bedroom wouldn’t be a good idea. “I have—something to tell you. Something important.”

Taehyung nods. “Do you think we can slip out of the room unnoticed?”

“You mean…now? You want to do it right now?” you hiss at him, glancing at Alia before looking back at him again. “Wouldn’t Alia be looking for you?”

Taehyung merely scoffs. “Like I said, she’s busy. Once she gets a few more glasses of drink, she’ll be more focused on looking for a sofa to lie down on instead of noticing that I’m gone.”

As if on cue, Alia’s laughter echoes through the room, and she turns away to joke with both of her male cousins now. You also notice that she has somehow gotten a fresh glass of cocktail in her hand, and she must have drank it halfway already by the looks of it.

Looking around the room, you notice that the guests crowding the living room is slowly dwindling. Most of your relatives who had gotten enough of Honey’s cocktail and received their gifts are starting to bid their goodbyes, hoping that they could return home before it gets too late and preferably before each of their designated drivers join in with the drinking. Yet there are some family members who have yet to show any sign of leaving soon, still enjoying their chat with Honey by the Christmas tree.

There will be no other chance, you tell yourself as you silently make a decision. The lesser people there are left, the more obvious it would be for everyone that you had gone missing from the room.

And with whom you may have disappeared together.

“Can you, uh—meet me in my room in about ten minutes, maybe less? I think we can get some privacy there and people don’t normally get upstairs unless they’re staying the night.” And because I left the sonogram there.

That’s right, it would be easier to show the sonogram to him right away when you tell him everything, just as how you initially planned it, even if you haven’t been too sure about it. “I’ll have to mingle a bit more and make sure that Honey can see me before I disappear. She’ll be looking for me if I don’t join her even if for a minute.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Taehyung says as he straightens up, “You go ahead and talk to Honey, and I’ll sneak us out some drinks so we have something to do while we talk.”

“Drinks. Right. Good idea,” you simply say to him, not bothering to try and turn down his offer, or to insist him to bring you the non-alcoholic ones. He’ll figure things out later once you are alone with him anyway.

With a nod, Taehyung rises from his seat and walks over to June, your cousin who seems to have gotten along with Taehyung over dinner. You wait for a few more minutes before making your move. Honey seems to be busy as more and more relatives are preparing to leave. So you turn to Aunt Dara and have a quick chat with her, making sure that the two of you remain within Honey’s peripheral vision so she can still see you.

Too restless to linger around and stay a bit longer, in not more than five minutes, you end your conversation and turn away from your aunt, hoping that you can slip away from the room before anyone notices your stealthy escape. Not even Honey. Because the moment you are caught by your grandmother, you know it would make it even harder for you to leave the room.

But just as you slip through the guests, staying clear from your mother’s relatives who are crowding Honey, your grandmother catches the sight of you and calls out—

“______, there you are. We were just talking about you. Come over here,” she says, waving her hand so you can join her and the small group that still remains to accompany her after a couple of more relatives have left the party.

Fuck. Too late.

Forcing a smile, you slither towards her, practically dragging your feet. “What is it, Honey?”

Honey leans against the minibar and picks up a small bottle. She continues mixing and pouring the drinks as she starts talking to you, “I was just talking to them about your recent promotion and how proud you made us. And then Jennie here shared that she is starting a new job and moving to the same city where you work. I told them that you have a big apartment that I love so much—”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Honey, I already told you. I don’t own the place, I rent it with a roommate.”

“Anyway,” she brushes you off, “I wondered if you could be a dear and help Jennie out to find a nice apartment. You know people in the city can be a bit sneaky. We’ve heard stories of young girls getting scammed the first time they’ve gone into a big city, so obviously, I was worried.”

Before you can say anything, Jennie raises her hand and cuts in, “I told Honey that I’ve already been looking up at a few places so—”

Jennie’s voice fades in and out and you can barely focus on what she is trying to tell you. Something about making arrangements with property agents to look up for a few affordable apartments not far from where you live. But your attention is being drawn elsewhere, as you notice from the corner of your eyes, that Taehyung is nodding at June and walking away, barely giving you a glance as he slides towards the small corner table filled with bottles of beer to grab the drinks he promised you.

“You know what, why don’t you call me up once you start moving. Maybe you can crash at my place and use the couch while you’re looking. Then I’ll see if I can arrange my schedules to go with you when you’re looking into those apartments so you won’t have to go alone.”

“That sounds great!” Jennie says, looking relieved, and you see it as a chance to also slip away so you can get to your bedroom before Taehyung could.

“Honey, I—”

“See? I told you that _____ is an angel,” Honey cuts you off before you can get a word out. Then she turns to you, handing you the glass of cocktail that she was mixing while you were chatting with your cousin.

“Here, you should try this. I made this specially for you,” she says as she gives the drink a few more stirs. “I remember that you loved the rose scented drinks I bought you, so I ordered this infused—”

You bite your lips, trying to hide away your revulsion as Honey raises the glass to you so you can take it from her. On reflect, you lift your hands to refuse. “No, thank you, Honey. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for cocktails right now. I’ve just finished my hot chocolate, after all.”

“That’s too bad. Well, I guess someone else has to taste this one for me.” She pouts, making you feel guilty for refusing her offer as she lowers her hand. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen you drinking tonight. In fact, I haven’t seen you drink any alcoholic drink at all this holiday. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Your stomach drops. An incredulous laugh leaves your lips. “W-what?”

What did she say? You wonder. You must’ve heard her wrong. Right?

Honey shrugs as she puts away the rejected drink and places it on top of the minibar. “Seeing how you keep getting sick and avoiding alcoholic drinks since you got here, I would think that you’re secretly pregnant,” she says while laughing and looking proud, as if she was simply throwing her crude joke as she usually does without realising how spot on it was to the truth. “Are you carrying a child in that belly, dear?”

The room falls into a rapt hush after Honey throws that comment into the room. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, while Honey remains unfazed, still wearing her curious smile as if she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Honey? W-what are you saying?” you nervously ask her, while your sweet grandmother merely shrugs and innocently waves you off.

“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. Just thinking out loud. It’s just that seeing you get sick every morning, and being so sensitive with certain smells reminds me a lot of myself when I was pregnant with your Mom. You haven’t even touched a drop of alcohol I offered since you got home, and I know that you barely touched your glass of champagne during dinner,” she says with a wicked chuckle. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t. You tried to hide it, but I knew. I have eyes, you know.”

Fuck. I didn’t think she would notice.

Gritting your teeth, you can only curse at yourself for acting such a fool. You thought you were being clever about it, but you must have been distracted by Taehyung’s presence at dinner that you failed to notice that Honey had kept her eyes on you all night.

“I—”

You try to speak, but words fail you. How do you respond? What do you say to this?

Ever since from the moment you came back home, you had expected that Honey would be the one who is able to put the pieces together, being the perceptive person that she is, and she had been the reason why you have been extra careful in hiding it, especially when you were around her.

Never once did you ever expect that she would so quick to draw up this conclusion and speak of it so nonchalantly with a few relatives are still around.

“Mom, stop talking nonsense,” your mother gently chastises your grandmother while laughing nervously. She looks back and forth between you and her mother, her eyes flickering on your face, then to your belly, as if she is trying to find what she has been missing. “_____ can’t be pregnant. Right, sweetie?”

Your tears begin to form. “I, uh—I don’t—”

Your head starts spinning harder the more you try to speak up, to explain, knowing that it would be futile to lie. Not to Honey. And certainly not to your parents.

Under the attention and distress, feeling the burden of having all eyes on you, all of them waiting for your answer, your hands move on their own, finding comfort in embracing the very spot where your growing baby is hidden as you press your palms on your barely-there bump. Noticing this, a collective gasp spreads through the room. Honey’s smile falters, while your mother’s eyes grow wide in shock.

But the most devastating of all is to see your stepfather walking around his brother to get to you from across the room. “You’re pregnant?” Cliff asks you carefully as he slowly comes to your side. When you look up at is shock slowly turns into rage when he asks, “Is that why that prick left you? Did he get you pregnant and choose to walk away like a fucking coward?”

“No, Dad. I—”

While you are struggling to answer him, your stepfather’s voice continues to rise. “Tell me where he is and I’ll chase that fucker—”

Everything moves in slow motion. Your stepfather who keeps cursing at your ex. Your Mom who keeps pulling him back to try and calm him down, and her pleading gaze silently asking you to explain. The whispering gasps and questions shared among the nervous glances that the guests are sending each other.

Everyone is talking at the same time, while you continue having a hard time to speak up. Your stomach feels tight. Even the touch of your hands no longer bring the calming warmth that your body needs.

Gentle hands press down on your arms as you are slowly being pulled away from the chaos. You can only make out Jennie and Honey’s voices whispering to you, guiding you to breathe while helping you to sit down before you would pass out.

Amidst the confusion, your eyes travel across the room, immediately finding Taehyung who is standing there in the corner with a frown on his face and a couple of bottles of drinks in his hands. As your eyes are locked with one another from the distance, you can see him processing through everything. His emotions are clearly written in his gaze; confusion, bewilderment, wonder.

You have no idea what kind of look that he sees on your face, but slowly, you can tell that everything seems to sink in on him. A dawning realisation sparks through his eyes when he finally puts the pieces together, and his shoulders fall to slump.

He knows.

And he isn’t the only one who is putting the pieces together.

With a quick glance, you find Alia standing on the other side of the room, her eyes keep flickering between you and Taehyung, evidently noticing the silent exchange happening between the two of you. There is a clear sign of shock and hurt in her eyes that you get to see a glimpse of when she looks at you one last time, before she turns away and runs out of the room.

“You need to rest. The stress wouldn’t be good for you.”

Jennie’s voice sounds subdued, worrying. She has always been shy, but she seems particularly cautious as she looks at you. As if she is trying her best not to look down at your belly. But her presence here and her small, careful voice offers you comfort. Something that you need as you lean against the doorway to your bedroom, feeling a bit too weak to stand on your own.

“I’m sorry you got entangled in all of this,” is all that you can say to her. You feel guilty for having your cousin and your aunt roped into this whole drama, all because they had been there to witness it when everything unfolded.

While your step-uncle, Kyle, took over escorting the departing guests, and your mother is somewhere in the house to talk with your stepfather, Jennie had volunteered to help escort you back to your room. She becomes the calming force amidst the storm that helps clear your mind.

“It’s fine,” she waves you off. “You’ll be paying me back once I’ve moved closer to you anyway. The couch is still available, right? You said I could crash until I’m settled.”

That helps bring a smile to your face. “Yes, my door is always open. I’ll let my roommate know that you’re coming. She’s usually open to welcoming family who needs help anyway,” you say to her with full gratitude before adding, “Thank you for staying to help.”

She nods and begins to turn away. “I better go check on Honey and see if my Mom is ready to go. I’ll see you soon.”

Too exhausted to say anything else, you simply thank her one last time and watch her go down the hall before closing the door. Once again, the silence in your bedroom gives you the perfect solace. It does nothing to erase the weight in your chest, however, or give you the answer you need as you wonder how you are going to talk to Taehyung about the whole thing.

You never expected that things would turn into such a mess, robbing any chance of you telling Taehyung about the baby properly, free of drama and uncertainty.

Just as you start dragging your feet towards the bed, you hear a soft knocking on the door, pulling you back to it. Thinking it might be Jennie, you immediately open it. “Did you forget—” Your voice falls to a hush when you find Taehyung standing there instead, giving you a small smile that draws back all the slow flutters in your chest.

“Oh, hi.”

“Hey,” he gently greets you. His smile is cautious, restrained, and his exhale of breath seems shaky. But he sounds calm when he speaks to you, “May I come in?”

You prepare yourself to answer, but your eyes flicker out the hallway, searching, a gesture that he easily notices. “Alia is with your parents. They’re worried about you, but your Mom seemed a bit frantic because she didn’t see the signs. Alia probably won’t be looking for me until later. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Okay,” you answer him with a sigh of relief. “Come in,” you beckon him, stepping aside so he can enter your room.

He steps deeper into your room while you take your time, gathering courage before you can turn to face him. His voice fills your room as he continues to talk, “I left our drinks downstairs. Things were so chaotic, so it slipped my mind—”

“That’s okay, it’s—” you say in return, failing to notice that his voice has faded out into silence. When you finally turn to him, you find him standing in front of your bedside table, his eyes are locked on the tiny thing that he is holding up under the dim light of the bedroom.

He found the sonogram.

“How far along are you?” His voice seems quiet against your thundering heartbeat, drowning even in the silence surrounding you.

You draw an unsteady breath before speaking up. “Six weeks, give or take.”

Taehyung remains silent for a moment longer before a sigh comes out of him. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asks, still with his eyes on the sonogram. His expression is unreadable, something which you cannot fault him with, knowing that this must have come as a shock to him.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve gone to you sooner,” you quickly apologise to him. A part of you wants to rush by his side, even if you cannot decide whether you want to calm and soothe him or rip that sonogram from his hand. Yet your legs seem frozen, and you are locked at one spot with no ability to move.

“From the moment I found out, I was planning to find you and figure out how to share the news to you in person, but then you showed up here with Alia, and I got”—blindsided, aghast, confused, terrified—”I just couldn’t figure out how to do it.”

“So, I was right. This baby is mine.”

Just as he says those words, you finally understand the look that he is wearing on his face. Captivated. Entranced. Amused. As if this revelation is more fascinating to him rather than it is frightening. It brings a twinge of hope rising inside you, telling you that maybe you can both figure out on how to deal with this.

But what about Alia?

“It was from that night, wasn’t it?” he asks again, breaking you out of your thoughts—from thinking about Alia. And you can almost sure that you catch the corner of his lips lifting to a smile.

“Yeah,” you cautiously say to him. “It happened the night we got together. I’ve never been with anyone else since—”

“What is this all about?” A deep voice bellows through your small bedroom, cutting through your words before you can finish talking. Both you and Taehyung turn to the door, noticing too late that your stepfather is standing there, watching the two of you with grief and horror in his eyes.

“Dad—what you are doing here?” you ask him as your eyes flicker towards the door behind him.

Crap. Distracted by your own nerves that had been affected by Taehyung’s arrival, you must have failed to shut the door tightly behind you.

“I came to check on you and apologise for freaking out,” Cliff says, frown deepening, his voice and the expression you see on his face convey a mixture of anger and hurt. “But what is he doing in here?” he continues, pointing at Taehyung. “Why is he in your room, when he’s supposed to be with Alia?”

The atmosphere grows heavier, yet Taehyung—the brave soul that he is—carefully steps forward to face your stepfather. “Cliff, I can explain—”

“And what did I just heard about the two of you being together? Is that baby—” Cliff turns to point at you, then back at Taehyung again while keeping his eyes on you, expecting you to answer him. “Was he the one responsible?”

Still holding the sonogram in his hand, Taehyung straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin. And it seems to be enough to answer your stepfather’s question. But what it only does is to aggravate Cliff even more. The air crackles with his rage, and he moves so fast—too fast for your mind to comprehend—as he grabs the front of Taehyung’s shirt and starts dragging him out of your bedroom.

“Dad, no!”

The moment you see your stepfather dragging Taehyung out the door, that is when you snap out of it and start running to chase them. As you run out the door, you see Alia who was clearly on her way to your bedroom. Her eyes are wide with shock, and though you are unable to interpret the gloss in her eyes—whether they are tears of hurt or her tipsiness—you can tell that she has been standing there long enough before anyone noticed.

But was she there long enough to hear everything?

“Daddy? What are you doing?” Alia screams out, though she doesn’t make any move, seemingly in shock to see her father dragging Taehyung across the hallway.

“Alia, you need to stop him!”

Your scream snaps her out of her shock, and she quickly rushes to chase both men down the stairs. You try to follow them as fast as you can, but your heart is racing, your legs feel weak, you can barely manage to come down the stairs without tumbling down.

“Careful!” Alia snaps at you in panic as she catches you at the final flight of stairs. You lift your head to thank her for helping you, only for her to give you no chance to as she turns away right after, chasing after her Dad who is now dragging her boyfriend out the yard.

Once the both of you are out the house, you can hear your stepfather’s voice bellowing through the air. His accusations echo through the chilly night, his eyes are blazing with frustration and rage, and he still has his hand pulling at Taehyung’s shirt, nearly lifting him off the ground as he continues shouting profanities between his grievance.

“—the fuck are you trying to pull?” he yells at Taehyung’s face, and you wince at how loud he is being against the silent night.

The only relief you can savour is the fact that he hasn’t gone physical. No hits are thrown, and the only rough handling he has been doing is to shake Taehyung back and forth with his tight grip on his shirt as he demands the truth. An answer. Anything that could clear this whole misunderstanding.

Taehyung’s eyes dart over Cliff’s shoulder as he notices you and Alia coming. Your stepfather follows his gaze and is caught by surprised to see you chasing him. But as he looks at you, his gaze hardens as he pleads, “Tell me that it’s not true. Tell me that you weren’t sleeping with him while he’s seeing your sister.”

No, it’s not true. They weren’t together. You remember hearing Taehyung denying it when you first questioned it, so it must’ve been the truth. Right?

The night you hooked up with him flashes through your head. That night from six weeks ago, the shared moment that he claimed to be a time where he hadn’t gotten involved with Alia. You want to speak up, to deny that he was playing both you and Alia, that the only thing behind this whole mess had been mere coincidence.

If only you could stop shaking. Get some words out. Anything.

But your chest feels tight. You can barely breathe in air, much less to let your voice out.

“Cliff, please! I told you, I can explain!” Taehyung tries to get your stepfather to listen. You see his hand reaching to grab Cliff’s wrist, though it doesn’t seem that the hold would budge no matter what he does to pull it off. His eyes turn to you, then to Alia, right before he screams out with fear in his eyes, “Alia!”

“Don’t you dare say her name!” Cliff yells at him, and you force yourself to speak.

“Sto—” you try once, failing when your chest tightens. “Stop,” you cry out again, “Dad, please—”

Your voice comes out as nothing more than dried paper, a silent hush compared to the loud voices as Cliff and Taehyung continue to argue with each other at the center of the front yard. But Alia is standing close enough to you to hear it. Close enough to see your hands shaking, your face turning pale and sickly, and she quickly moves right in front of you, standing between you and the quarrelling men.

“Daddy, stop yelling. You’re going to stress ______ out,” she yells at her Dad while pushing you behind her to keep you away from them, as if she is making sure you won’t get hurt.

She’s…defending me?

Your head starts spinning harder. Everything is so confusing right now, and it makes you feel worse when you look at Alia, seeing her getting caught in the crossfire as she tries to separate the two while shielding you from the chaos.

“And it’s not Taehyung’s fault!” she yells again, and this time, it seems to do the trick, because Cliff finally lets Taehyung go.

Now free from your stepfather’s clutch, Taehyung steps back. He tries to catch his breath while fixing his shirt. You notice then that he is still holding your sonogram, surprising you when even amidst all the chaos, he is still gripping onto it protectively.

“How is it not his fault?” Cliff snaps at your stepsister. “Why are you defending this asshole? He slept with your sister when he’s dating you, and he even dared to show his face at my—”

“Because we’re not dating!” Alia cuts him off with a scream, and everything stops. Her scream even shuts the voices in your head, drawing a single question in their place—

What—? What did she just say?

With all eyes on her, Alia begins to shake with nerves. And then the truth spills out of her mouth. “We, uh—Taehyung and I—we’re friends. I wasn’t planning to come this year but you kept calling me to come for Honey’s family dinner, and—” she says, stuttering as she points at her father, and then turns to face you to add, “I thought that your—I mean, Hansol. I thought he was going to come with you this year like he always did and I didn’t want you to think that—”

Drawing a shaky breath, she pushes through her nerves and forces the rest of the truth to come out. “I asked Taehyung to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend so you wouldn’t think that I was going to try to make a move on Hansol again.”

“Wait—what?” Taehyung snaps at her. He seems confused, and it is evident in your eyes that he never got to hear this part of the ordeal from Alia when he signed up for—whatever it was that they had agreed upon. “What did you do?”

Alia opens her mouth to continue, yet Cliff cuts her off before she could. “Enough,” he says, no longer yelling. His voice sounds drained, exasperated, and yet there is an eerie calmness underneath that makes your skin shiver with fear. His silent rage terrifies you more than his loud, raging voice does, while the defeated look in his eyes hurts you deeply. “Alia, get inside. And you—” he turns to point at Taehyung. “Get out of my sight.”

“Dad, no—” you step forward to stop him, yet Cliff doesn’t even look at you when he calmly orders Alia to move.

“Alia, get your sister back in her room,” he says as he turns away, making his way back into the house.

Left with no other choice, and feeling like the fight has left you, you let Alia place her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you turn to Taehyung one last time as she starts guiding you back to the house, but then your stomach drops when he remains silent. His eyes are cold, as if he is trying to mask his true emotions as he looks at you. Something twists in your gut as if he had pierced a knife deeply through it. “Tae, wait—”

A small smile is lifted on his lips, though it seems closer to a sneer, something which doesn’t seem to reach the pained look in his eyes, and that is the only thing that he gives you before he turns away and leaves the property without saying a single word.

Sleep, without a doubt, has become fruitless.

All night, you have been tossing and turning in your bed. Even when you manage to close your eyes and doze off a little, your stepfather’s grievance and Taehyung’s bereft smile flash through your mind, sending you to an abrupt wake each time.

At the very last time you find yourself being forcefully pulled away from your restless sleep, you glance out the window, its curtains left partly opened, you see the shadows of nightfall slowly shifting. A blush of hue in gradient colours of purple and grey is beginning to emerge amidst the dark, and you can feel it in your skin the awakening of dawn.

Too anxious to remain still on your cold bed, adrenaline and stress still flowing violently through your body, you finally give up trying to rest and tiptoe your way downstairs.

The stillness in the house at night has always been something that you have come so familiar with, but as you walk down the stairs and into the quiet kitchen, the house feels more eerie that it usually does. You can almost hear the creaking sound of the floors and the walls around you, as if they are whispering to you all the things that they have witnessed from the night before.

The air feels unusually cold. You fight the temptation to light up the fireplace once more and huddle up right in front of it, resisting only to avoid waking everyone else up, and then walk into the kitchen in search for another source of warmth.

You are just beginning to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate to warm up when a figure steps into the archway leading towards the hallway. You turn with a jump, realising with relief that it is Alia.

Giving you a hesitant smile, she walks into the kitchen. With her arms wrapped around herself and a thick shawl cloaking her shoulders, you realise that you are not the only one struggling with the cold.

“Can’t sleep? Or did you wake up too early?” she asks you with a soft whisper.

“A little bit of both. How about you?”

She stands by the kitchen counter to watch you work. “Tried to sleep, but I kept having nightmares. I was running downstairs to catch up with Dad, and it kept repeating over and over”—she visibly shudders—“and then I woke up with this crappy headache.”

You give her a smile and tip your chin at the high stool right by the counter. “Take a seat. I’ll make more,” you offer her, which she accepts with a smile.

Neither of you says a word for a moment, only breaking the silence once you are done pouring the hot drinks into two separate mugs and handing one to her while whispering, “Here you go,” to which she responds with a soft, sleepy murmur, “Thank you.”

Taking the seat on one end of the counter with Alia sitting on the other, silence stretches between the two of you once again. There is an awkward tension in the air. You cannot remember when you have ever found yourself alone with Alia like this, deep in the night and with nothing else to do but to talk. Not since those many years ago when you were children.

You remember how your parents made you share the same bedroom. It was their way of getting you to bond with your new stepsister at the time. Even then, you could tell that Alia wasn’t exactly thrilled by it, already so used to having her own bedroom before she had to split her time between spending the weekdays with her mother and then with her father on the weekends.

But at least back then, the silence didn’t feel as stifling. And she had let you borrow her personal things to play with, as long as you got out of her way. And that included her books—so many of them, you remember—with her occasionally sitting right beside you so she could read you some of the hard ones to follow for a little child.

Taking a sip of your hot cocoa, you decide that you have had enough of this silence. “So—” you breathe out a sigh. “You and Taehyung.”

Alia groans and closes her eyes. “You heard me last night, didn’t you? I know I was drunk off my ass, but it’s true,” she says, scoffing as she glances sideways and meets your gaze when you do the same, “It’s stupid, I know.”

You sip your drink before asking, “Why did you have to go make an entire scheme out of this?”

“I don’t know,” she breathes out an exhausted sigh. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.” Her voice sounds wistful when she says this, and then she breaks out into a bitter chuckle. “But I guess, just like a ton of other bad decisions I’ve made my entire life, it only added to the long list of fuck-ups that have tainted most of my adult life.”

You let out a snort, something that is so uncharacteristically you, but still comes out with all honesty. “At least you’re taking accountability of it,” you say to her almost teasingly, “I know some people who wouldn’t even admit that they fucked up and simply move on while everyone had to pick up the mess they left behind.”

Alia laughs. You can see her eyes warming up. “When did you meet him? How did it all happen?”

Your lips curl up to a smile. You drink your hot drink slowly before you begin telling her everything—the trip that you went to after your breakup, the frustrating debacle with your flight getting delayed and cancelled and meeting him at transit, the hookup, everything that you already shared with Skye the first time you revealed about your first promiscuous night abroad with the stranger, the agreement you both made about shedding your identities, which had lead to this whole mess, and more.

Surprisingly enough, Alia merely responds with a soft chuckle. As if this is something that is to be expected when it involves her friend. “That explains it,” she muses softly. She has this faraway look in her eyes for a moment, as if recalling something in the past—perhaps something that happened during that period of time.

“He was going through some stuff when we got in contact again about a year after the last time we met. We lost contact again briefly during that time”—the time he went to take that trip, you tell yourself—”I think he said he was off to some sort of a business trip and was using it to ‘escape’ from everything. He never told me any of the details, though.”

You are curious, wanting to know more. But you also know that it isn’t your place to pry. You can also tell that Alia may not answer if you try to ask her. Yet she then surprises you by adding, “Then he contacted me not too long ago and said something about needing my help. I thought it was a wild coincidence and decided to use the chance to get him to help me in return. One thing lead to another, and here we are now.”

You both share a laugh, despite how pitiful the two of you seem at this moment.

When you both grow quiet once more, each of you taking the moment to savour your drink and the silence that is starting to bring more comfort than the uneasiness you felt earlier, your mind wanders. You recall the events that have been happening for the past few days, to tonight, seeing everything with a new light now that the truth has come out. You also find that you no longer feel the weight of your secret shadowing you, allowing you to breathe easier.

And then the conversation you had with Skye on the phone from a while ago comes back to you.

“I’m sorry I broke your doll,” you suddenly blurt out, while Alia snaps her head to look over to you.

“What? Which doll?” she asks, her face is filled with incomprehension, before her expression shifts into knowing, and then to shock. “Oh, that one? That was a long time ago!”

You laugh at her reaction. “Yeah, but it feels like you started resenting me since then.”

“No, I’m—” she shakes her head and scoffs at you. “It’s actually fine. I hated that doll. That was the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever owned when I was a kid.”

“What—?” you let out an incredulous laugh. “But you made it look like I’ve ruined your entire world. All hell broke loose because of it so I thought—”

Alia laughs, though she also looks somewhat guilty when she explains everything to you. “One of Dad’s ex-girlfriends bought it for me on my eighth birthday. I never liked any of the women he brought home and introduced me, but she was probably the sanest and most normal one of all,” she calmly tells you, quickly adding, “That was before your Mom came in, by the way.”

That makes you smile. Especially when you notice that her eyes are filled with fondness as she talks about your mother.

“Anyway, she gave me the doll as a gift after she went for a trip abroad, and maybe I did like it because it made me happy to know that she thought about me. But the older I got, the weirder it felt for me to keep it, but every time I wanted to get rid of the doll, it made me feel guilty for even considering it because of how sweet she was to me,” she winces as she recalls the past. “When you ruined the doll, I was actually relieved. But I couldn’t show it to Dad since he thought I loved the doll so much that he even went out on his way to help take care of the doll for a long time, so I made it seem like losing the doll made me sad.”

Your jaw drops and you laugh again. “Damn, I can’t believe I was gaslighted and framed by a twelve year-old.”

“Sucks to be you,” Alia laughs back at you as she sips her drink. “Sorry for causing you some childhood trauma or whatever.”

“It wasn’t so much of a trauma,” you say to her while scoffing. But that incident did leave an impression on you, regardless. And it wasn’t a good one. Looking back on it now, it does seem ridiculous for you to let it haunt your memories for so long.

You are just about to share your thoughts to Alia when she finally speaks again.

“On your eleventh birthday, you started calling him Dad,” she says, her voice dull, but you can feel the weight of her words when you hear them. It takes a moment for it to sink in, until you finally realise—

“Oh—” Oh. You swallow hard and take a deep breath, realising that she is talking about Cliff. “Did you, uh—were you worried that I might take him away from you?”

Alia smiles bitterly. “I’m not sure. Maybe?” She shrugs. “As a kid, I may have harboured an unrealistic fantasy that one day, my Mom and Dad would make up, get back together, and everything would be back to how it used to be.”

She looks at you with a small smile. “But then Daddy met your Mom, and my Mom became more unhinged after the divorce and dealing with the consequences of her affair that it was becoming more obvious Dad would have never taken her back, no matter what.”

The more she speaks, sharing her deep, darkest secret, the more you are able to understand her. For all these years, you simply thought that Alia has resented you for childish reasons. You never knew that she had nurtured the heartbreak of an innocent child for so many years. Silently hurting without anyone else knowing.

“But it was the day you began calling him Dad that finally broke me out of that fantasy and forced me to accept that they were never going back together,” she says, sighing deeply with a broken smile on her face, which only deepens the guilt that you feel for becoming a part of it. “Maybe—that was the moment I started seeing you differently.”

“I—didn’t know,” you murmur, and then you begin to recall how Alia kept avoiding to spend time with her father on the weekends when she was a teenager. “You started to come by less and less by then.”

Your parents had excused Alia’s absence at the time as her newfound need of being independent. But you know better now.

Alia releases a sigh, as if opening to you is helping her relief some of her own weight. “Dad was so happy because you and your family welcomed him into your lives. I guess that was really important to him. The more I watched him having a new family that was a whole, the more I resented it. Seeing you with Daddy—” she stops with a sharp intake of breath, “I guess the child in me felt like I was being replaced and I couldn’t take it.”

“Alia—”

She cuts you off with one look, with a gaze that is surprisingly warm. “You know what’s worse?” she asks.

“The way Dad keeps bragging about you in front of me and anyone from his side of the family whenever he has the chance to. You have always been smarter, you’ve gained everything you wanted in life with your own effort. You have a good job, a nice apartment and, for a time, you had a long-time boyfriend, while I’m still floating through life,” she says with a wistful tone of voice instead of a bitter one. “I have no steady job, and I’m still moving around instead of settling down, which left me with no chance to start any serious relationship to brag about in front of everyone. So I suppose that makes me feel inferior when I have to face you.”

You have no idea what to say. Because you had no idea about any of this. Still, you feel guilty, even if none of this was your fault when all you ever did was live your life the way you wanted it to.

“Last year, I think that’s when I came to my limit,” Alia adds with a chuckle. “I guess somewhere in my mind, I had this thought that since you already stole my Dad, maybe I could steal something that was yours for a change.”

Once again, your jaw drops. You let out a gasp. “Hey, that’s fucked up!”

She laughs at your reaction. “I know! And I’m sorry, alright?” she says, still laughing and lifting both of her hands at you. But she quickly sobers up, looking genuinely concerned when she asks, “Seriously, though. Did you break up—”

You quickly shake your head. “No. He chose his career over our relationship,” you admit to her. “He has always been like that. He’s always so crazy about work, a perfectionist, and not only does he have a big ego, he also has big ambitions. I think he pushed me to match his pace, whether he realised it or not, which became the reason why I managed to gained everything I have now.”

Looking back, you have to admit that your ex was the one who gave you the drive which helped you get where you are now. As much as you hate to admit it, you do owe him that much for your current life, despite everything.

“In a way, he pushed and motivated me to constantly be a better version of myself. But, deep down, I was starting to get tired of it.” You recall all the fights, the arguments, the agony that you felt when he belittled you for your need to start going in your own pace instead of following his. “I never realised how exhausting it was with him until we broke up. He made me feel like I was on a race against him instead of in a relationship where we were both equals in life.”

Alia slowly nods her head with a silent understanding. “What happened last year with your ex was also the reason why I asked Taehyung to come with me,” she confesses with a shy smile.

“I felt so bad for everything that happened, and I had no idea how to fix it. I thought that if I brought someone with me this year, not only would I be able to shut my Mom up about trying to hook me up with some snobby guy from her circle and pushing me into marriage”—she rolls her eyes—”I would also be able to show everyone here, and you, that I had no desire to steal your boyfriend from you.”

You grin at her. “That explains why it was shocking for you to find out that I already broke up.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “That thwarted all of my plans.” You laugh together while she continues to complain about it. How she had meticulously planned everything to clear her reputation and avoid adding more drama between you.

“But I couldn’t give up the gig. I know that Dad still keeps in touch with my Mom once in a while because of me, and she would call him to check on me if she’d heard I was coming, so if I let everyone know that Taehyung and I aren’t actually dating, my Mom would sit me down next to any bachelor of the year that she had chosen for me at the family gathering with just a snap of her fingers,” she sneers, lifting her hand to snap her fingers in the same manner that you imagine her mother would do.

“And, as always, I had to mess everything up too because of my stupid plans,” she heavily sighs. “Sorry, by the way.”

Scoffing lightly, you simply wave her off. “It’s not your fault. If only Taehyung and I had talked when we had the chance,” you finally admit, realising that you are also to blame for avoiding to speak to him right away, “Or if he had told you about me when I asked him to, then maybe the three of us could have figured something out.”

Alia nods her head in agreement, and then her lips rise to a slow smile. “I didn’t expect that Honey would be the one stirring the pot when it was already boiling.”

That makes you laugh again. “Honestly? I had expected that Honey would be the first to notice. I just didn’t expect her to blast me right in front of the whole family.”

Sipping her hot cocoa slowly, Alia hums. “Maybe it was meant to work that way. Or else, I feel like neither of us would find any chance to spill out the truth, as bitter and ridiculous it might sound to admit,” she says, and you cannot help but agree with her. Even with no resolution have yet to be made, you can feel some of the weight of your troubles being lifted from you.

Everything may have gone messy, yet for some reason, the future doesn’t seem so bleak when you are looking at it one last time. Then Alia gently adds, further encouraging the hope that is slowly blooming inside you.

“Taehyung—he won’t be joining me to see my Mom. He’s driving back home, either in the morning or before noon, I’m not sure. You should go see him and talk.”

“I—” you swallow hard. “I want to. We do need to talk, but—”

Alia stops you by shaking her head. “No buts. You have a baby on the way, and I’m sure—seeing his reaction last night—he would want to be a part of it. Only if you’d let him.”

That immediately shuts you up, taking away all the excuses that you have to run away and avoid facing him. You still remember seeing the way he was clutching your sonogram possessively as if it was his lifeline, and you have yet to get the sonogram back from him when he left.

“Even without the baby—” Alia continues, noticing how you are still deep in your thoughts. “The favour that I mentioned? I think it might have something to do with you. I’m not sure what it was though, because he hasn’t had the chance to say anything about it. He only said that it had something to do with what happened during his trip from that time.”

You know that she is right. The only problem is mustering the courage to go and see him in person. After what your family had put him through last night, you have no idea how to face him, feeling too guilty that he got roped into so much mess because you couldn’t tell him the truth when you had the chance.

“Well, while you take your time considering it, I should go back to my room. I have another Christmas event that I would need to mentally prepare to,” Alia says as she steps out of her seat. You watch her walking around the counter to put away her empty mug before smiling at you. “Thanks for the nice chat, and the hot chocolate.”

You return her smile and nod. “So—are we good?”

That makes her chuckle. She stops before going out into the hall and shrugs. “Yeah, you’re okay. I guess we are.”

“Does that mean we’re friends now?” you tease her, drawing a scoff from her.

“Ugh—don’t push your luck, kid. Don’t even think about us being sisters,” she says, pointing at you.

“Never would’ve dreamed of it,” you respond with a chuckle. Still, you are overcome with relief now that the old tension between you are lifted. “Good luck with your Mom.”

“Thanks. Good luck with—” she says, “well, everything.” She turns away, but not before giving you one final warning, “I’m serious. Go talk to him. Don’t worry about the others, or about how Daddy would react. I’ll hold down the fort and explain everything to them until you’re back.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens just as your stomach tightens with churning doubt.

The thought of seeing Taehyung, alone, seems nerve-racking. You have no idea what to expect once you get there, or what you are going to say, which only makes you even more nervous the further you are getting from home.

Your thoughts are filled with worrying that things may not go as planned. Not that you really had any plan to go with other than to talk to him, stop him from leaving, and maybe find out what the future hold—if there is any hope there.

The weather outside seems dreary, which is no help at all. Even under the winter sunlight that appears brighter than usual, the snow keeps falling thickly from the sky, the trees standing on either side of the streets are swaying dangerously towards various directions due to the intense wind.

Weather does hate me, you wonder to yourself as you glance through the side mirror, wondering why these things keep happening to you during critical times such as this one.

Getting more impatient, the urge to press down on the accelerator feels so strong, yet you fight it the best you can, recalling the promise you made when you stepped out of the house.

Honey was right, it was a bad idea to be driving out under this weather. She was the one who warned you about the weather when you were about to leave, which you simply ignored because the sky was bright, the wind was steady, and your intention to see Taehyung was strong.

You should have learned from experience and took your time checking today’s weather forecast to find out just how quickly the weather could change.

Looking at the fierce weather, it seems obvious that things are about to get even worse. A white jeep breezes past your tiny city car, causing your car to sway, and you feel a pull to match its speed. But then you see it nearly slipping on the road as the jeep makes a turn right ahead, and you heart stops. Your car slows as you start hearing Honey’s voice warning you about how easy the road becomes slippery on days like this.

“Drive carefully. Even if you want to risk your life getting out there, at least think about that baby,” Honey’s voice echoes in your head, stopping you before you could even think of picking up speed again once the road clears up before you.

“There’s nothing to worry about. With this weather, he couldn’t have left yet,” you convince yourself, though your doubt keeps pushing back nearly tenfold.

He couldn’t just leave, right?

Turning with reduced speed on the next intersection, you curse under your breath. It feels like it’s taking you forever to reach the motel, and when you still see no sign of getting any closer to the motel, you begin to wonder if you’ll manage to get there at all.

“Damn it, Alia. Why did you have to choose that motel? There’s a bunch of them closer to home.”

Obviously, there is nobody here to answer your question. So the only thing that you can do is to force yourself to calm down, focus on the road—and in not slipping or sending your car into a ditch—and find the motel as fast—and as safely—as you can.

Quiet Peaks Motel. Room 1109.

You almost laughed when Alia gave you the room number where Taehyung has been staying in. The irony of having those numbers shown to your face, reminding you of that night from six weeks ago.

“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.”

You let out a scoff as Skye’s words ring back to you. Christmas miracle my butt, you inwardly scoff at the notion. A queer coincidence, that’s what this is.

Not too long, you are driving your car into the small parking lot of Quiet Peaks Motel. With your head covered under the hood of your coat, you challenge the cold to rush into the motel without taking a look around to see if his car is still here. Past the receptionist desk, you follow Alia’s guide to find Taehyung’s room.

Room 1109.

Shaking off the snow that has gotten all over your body, you take a deep breath, and knock on the door. A few seconds pass.

No answer.

Another knock, just a bit harder this time. And all you have in return is silence. No. No. No—

You raise your hand again, ready to give it another try while refusing to accept the possibility that he is no longer there, when finally—finally—you hear a click, and the door slowly opens. Taehyung appears before you, with wide, curious eyes and a smile slowly lifting on his lips, like a piece of a fantasy manifesting into something real.

“You’re still here,” you breathe a sigh of relief, drawing a low chuckle from him.

Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest as he hovers by the doorway, the small smile on his face unwavering. “Alia called. Warned me not to run away,” he gently says.

The thought of him driving off to leave town, running away before you could see him, feels like a bolt piercing through your heart. “Were you—trying to run?”

“I felt the urge to,” he admit while lowering his gaze, briefly avoiding your eyes. “But I couldn’t.”

You can hear the sound of your heartbeat. “Because of the blizzard happening outside?”

Taehyung looks up, and his smile deepens when he steps aside. “Why don’t you come in? It’s getting colder. You can warm up inside.” There is a playful glint in his eyes which says the unspoken words—

With me.

Drawn by the look in his eyes, your legs begin to move on their own. Your arm brushes against him as you walk past him, just barely, and your skin prickles warmly, as if the thick winter coat that you are wearing is nonexistent.

Taehyung takes your coat, shaking the remaining snow that is still attached to it before hanging it on the coat rack by the door while you step out of your snow-coated boots, refusing to leave trails of snow and dirt on his floor as he pulls you inside. He guides you to take a seat on the edge of the bed while he takes the one-seater from the corner of the room and places it across from you.

Sitting back, he wears a playful smile on his face. He seems giddy, with a twinge of wariness that is quite noticeable coming out of him—both feelings are something that you also share as you sit with your back straightened while your legs are shaking.

Sitting here like this allows you to get a good look at Taehyung. And for the first time, you notice the boyish charm in him that looks—adorable. You can see it better when he smiles, when he looks at you with an expectant look in his yes, and when he doesn’t seem to be able to remain calm.

You have no idea why you had never seen this side of him before. Has he been hiding this part of him? Because, if you want to be honest with yourself, you like seeing this side of Taehyung, maybe even more than the side that he has allowed you to see before today.

If comfort is a person, this side of him fits the picture, you wonder to yourself with a smile.

Speaking of pictures—

Your eyes travel around the room, taking notice of the place where he has been staying at. The room is undoubtedly smaller than the suite that he booked back at the transit hotel, but not any smaller than your own bedroom back home. The bed that you are sitting on feels soft, with wooden bed frames that makes it seem sturdy. There is a single vanity table that stretches out on one wall, also functioning as a writing desk, an electric fireplace in the corner that is running with a soft hum, and a wall-mounted television that has been kept on with its volume lowered to fill the room with its white noise.

Your eyes fall on the long table, on the small object that catches your attention.

“Would you like to drink?” Taehyung asks you as the silence stretches out for too long, and you look at him with a smile.

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Nodding, he rises from his seat to grab a drink from the corner cabinet, while you do the same. Drawn towards the small object that Taehyung had placed on the table like a precious jewel—your sonogram.

“I didn’t mean to keep it with me. But throughout all the chaos happening last night—” you can hear his voice getting closer and closer, yet you do nothing to look his way. Holding up the sonogram between your fingers, your eyes are focused completely on it, fixated at the clear proof of your future. You still have your eyes on it as his warmth comes pressing on your back, his voice feels like a gentle brush on your skin as he whispers close—

“—I just couldn’t let it go. It felt surreal whenever I looked at it. It was almost as if—I was actually holding that baby in my hands, and I needed to protect it.”

His words send your mind into a daze, even when you notice the tremble in his voice. Everything he does next seems like parts of a dream. You notice his hand reaching out beside you, placing two objects which seem to be bottles of fresh juice on top of the table. And his hand stays there, palm pressing on the edge of the desk while his other hand is resting on your other side, practically caging you in place.

Slowly, you turn around to face him. The sudden closeness makes you feel dizzy, yet the feeling is incomparable to the way your body is reacting when you look into his eyes.

His dark eyes somehow appear even darker from up close. You feel nothing carnal in the way he is looking at you, nor the way he is giving you no chance to escape. But there is the heat that you feel reaching out to you, vibrating through his chest together with his heavy breath.

“We are—” he murmurs, stopping briefly with a deep exhale of breath. “We’re expecting a baby.” He speaks as if he is trying to rewire his brain into accepting reality.

Your heart starts racing when you hear his words.

We. That word seals everything in.

And you can feel that sense of acceptance coming from him. You can easily see it written all over his face; in his gaze that looks resolved and in his warm smile that seems inviting. And then you get to see it coming together when he takes you in, his eyes landing on your belly. Even though covered under your thick sweater, he looks at you as if he can see what is hidden underneath.

“We’re expecting a baby,” you whisper with a smile. “It’s still early. Very early. Which is why you might not see any changes, like seeing the baby in its fully grown form, or find out the gender yet, but we can already hear the heartbeat. We can arrange so you can join me on my next appointment with the doctor. That is, if you’d like.”

Putting all of your hopes into words feels risky. But thinking about him being there puts a smile on your face. That smile fades for a brief moment when you realise that you are also putting your heart at risk of being broken—be it from him, or from life.

“Anything could still happen,” you add with a wry smile. The sceptical part of you slowly sneaking its way into your mind to take control. “But if you’re willing to go through this with me and—”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence when he suddenly reaches out to touch you. He brushes your cheek with the gentle touch of his fingers, and wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you gently to him until you are nearly pressed into his chest. You bring your palms up to his chest in reflex, pressing against him as a barrier, separating you from his overwhelming warmth.

You can feel his heartbeat picking up under your palms, just as your own heartbeat starts thundering inside your chest.

“Last night, Cliff stole my chance to figure out or express how I felt about this,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I was in so much shock both from the news and then Cliff’s reaction that I couldn’t say a word about it. But the moment I left your home and spent the night alone in this room, I finally got the chance to process everything.”

He stops, shaking his head before pressing his lips on your temple. “Still, I can’t believe that this is happening. But this is our new reality right now and I have to face it. No matter at what cost,” he whispers with his lips hovering against your temple.

“What—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m all in,” he says, pulling back so he can look at you. “I told you, didn’t I? You never really left my mind after that night. I’m not sure why, but waking up in the morning to see you gone back then got me curious and, well—” he chuckles. “It was all the reason why I got roped into Alia’s sneaky scheme, which I’m beginning to regret ever being a part of, but since we’re here anyway.”

Taehyung lets out a dramatic sigh, drawing a curious smile to your face.

His chest rises and falls as he exhales a deep breath. “Alia promised to help me once we’ve done the deal. And although I never told her specifically what I needed help with—” he grins, looking as if he is thinking back to the day he planned out this whole scheme with your stepsister.

A scheme where he pretended to be dating her to trick your and Alia’s family.

“Actually, I was already trying to find you. Alia has a lot of connections, gathered by traveling to different places and jumping between odd jobs, so I thought that maybe she would know how to solve that problem of mine,” he admits, and your skin flushes warmly when you realise that not only has he been thinking of you this whole time, but he had also thought of looking for you when you thought that he would have simply forgotten everything and moved on.

“Things may have gone differently than I imagined, and not entirely in the right order. But technically speaking, she made it happen, just as promised,” he chuckles again, looking just amused at the situation as you are. “If I had known about the baby, I wouldn’t have asked you to hide from Alia that we got together at one point,” he grimaces. “I wasn’t sure what kind of situation Alia was in that would require her having a fake boyfriend, so I don’t know what telling her that we hooked up would do.”

Frowning, you simply shake your head and murmur, “No, I should’ve told you right away. But like I said, I wasn’t prepared to see my baby’s daddy coming into my parents’ home holding hands with my stepsister.”

Taehyung smiles and rubs his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Your body shudders under his touch, but you cover it with a sigh. “Likewise,” you whisper. “But can we please stop talking about Alia right now?”

He barks out a laugh. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he says with a wide grin on his face. “Maybe you’ll be more interested in talking about something else, then?”

You suck a deep breath as his eyes bore into yours. Even before he says it, you can somehow tell what he is thinking. There is something in his eyes that makes you feel hot inside. Something that feels intimidating, yet comforting at the same time, and it makes you want to dive into whatever it is that is offering you.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung starts staring at you the same way he did that night—with the same passion and hunger that are enough to engulf you as a whole.

While you are captivated with his gaze, Taehyung leans in, stealing a kiss from your lips before you realise what is happening. He begins with a gentle, tentative kiss, as if he is testing to see how you are going to react. But with your emotion heightened, and relief warming your chest, the innocent kiss that he is giving you is already enough to send heat flushing through your body.

Your fingers sink into his sweater in a desperate clutch as you return his kiss, pressing your mouth onto his without any inhibitions. A sigh escapes from your throat, while he releases a deep grunt and begins to deepen the kiss.

His tongue presses between the seams of your lips, penetrating into your mouth in seek of control. All the heat inside you starts swirling violently as he devours your lips, and it’s driving you crazy. Your thundering heartbeat presses against your chest and he keeps stealing your breath, leaving you gasping the moment he releases your lips.

Yet Taehyung doesn’t stop. Giving you a few more pecks on your swollen lips, he then moves his kisses down the column of your throat, and your head falls back in an instant, helping him to travel lower until he rests his lips beneath your earlobe where he breathes out a sigh.

“This wasn’t—” you gasp as he nips at your pulse, rocking your entire body at the touch of his teeth on your skin, “This wasn’t the reason why I came here for.”

“Are you sure?” he hums against your skin. “We can stop if you want to. But you have to be the one to say the words.” His words make you swoon, but contrary to what he is saying to you, Taehyung continues to press his lips on your skin, making it hard for you to say a thing. “It’s been pure torture having to hold back, being in the same room with you but unable to do anything about it.”

He leans back, looking at you with a deep gaze as he brushes his thumb across your swollen lips. “I kept seeing these lips and wishing I could kiss it.”

Silently admitting that you feel the same way for him, your eyes move to his lips, noticing its swell, the faint crimson shade and the moisture that are left there after kissing you, and hazily blurt out, “Did you kiss Alia with that same mouth?”

“Fuck, no!” he says, making you laugh when he seems horrified at the thought of kissing your stepsister. “We’re friends, but not that close as friends to be smooching at each other.”

The way he is scrunching his nose still makes you giggle. “Sorry, but—you know, I had to make sure.”

Taehyung snorts. “Of course you do,” he grumbles, although the mirth in his eyes turns, as he gives you an understanding look through them, now knowing what kind of relationship that you share with Alia. “There are a lot of things about your stepsister that you might not know about.”

His words remind you of the short conversation that you had with your stepsister this morning. Deep down, you realise that he is right. With so many years spent harbouring a deep misunderstanding between one another, you realise that you never really knew her at all. Closing your eyes, you tell yourself that you can revisit this later.

“Are you going to spend the rest of the day trying to butter me up so I can start being best friends with my stepsister, or are you going to kiss me again?” you question him with a grin on your face once you open your eyes again.

He returns your grin with his own, showing you that same boyish charm that makes you swoon as he murmurs, “I think I like the second option a lot better.”

Giggling, you release your grip on his sweater and move to wrap your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway just as he leans down to capture your lips again. “An excellent choice, Sir. I do like that option much better as well.”

Once his lips descend on yours once again, they don’t come down gently. They crash into yours, and you can feel his urgency, his hunger, everything that he had spent days withholding for the sake of the god-awful scheme. The kiss melts every cell in your body. It weakens your knees, leaving your arms as the only thing holding you up against him.

His hands feel hot on your skin as he runs them down your waist, your hips, the heat penetrating through your thick sweater and jeans. You instinctively arch your chest against his, while your legs are moving, rubbing against each other when his touch sends your pulse rising, hot blood flowing down right between your legs.

Fuck, why I am so sensitive?

Right as you are wondering if your pregnancy has anything to do with the way your body is reacting, Taehyung folds his body and grabs the back of your thighs to lift you up.

“Oh, God—” you pull away with a gasp, surprised with the sudden lost of balance. Tightening your arms around his neck, you hold on to him as he turns. His smile widens, looking as if he is proud of himself, and then he drops you onto the bed, gentle as he puts you down until you are lying on your back.

You shift backwards until you are at the center of the bed with him following close behind. His gaze remains on your face as he starts crawling over the mattress, not stopping until he is hovering above you. He doesn’t settle his weight on top of you right away, but instead grabs a gentle hold at the hem of your sweater. With a quick work of his hands, the sweater is gone, tossed somewhere across the room. He doesn’t let you see where it went as he bends down, hovering close above you.

“Doesn’t this make you think back about that night?” he asks, with a deep voice that has your entire body trembling. He ignites more reaction out of you with a gentle kiss at the crook of your neck.

“Something is”—you gasp, shuddering under his kiss—“something is different, though.”

His warm breath comes brushing on your skin with his deep chuckle. “You can tell, huh? I did some workout after that vacation,” he brags to you while wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“I’d say you may have gotten your money’s worth. A little bit,” you tease him as you reach down between your bodies for his zipper.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your palm. Even while hidden under his pants, you can feel the heat coming from him as you rub your palm against his covered bulge, moving it back and forth until you feel him hardening under your touch.

“Are you going to continue staring at me, or are you going to fuck me?” you whisper, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with how much you need him.

And he is the only one to blame. When his sole existence stirs your every being. With one glance coming from his eyes, butterfly wings flutter inside your body, touching all the crevices that aren’t filled with past hurt and the baby’s presence and filling them with warmth.

With one touch, your whole body comes alight, and you are feeling it now as he brushes his fingers along the expanse of your waist. As tough your blood is on fire as it runs through your veins, even with nothing more but a light graze on your skin.

Taehyung licks his lips. His desire is written so clearly on his face. But then his gaze moves down your body, lingering on your stomach that is completely exposed now that you no longer have your sweater covering your skin.

“Will it be okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. His voice sounds tight, filled with worries, which gives your chest a tight pinch.

When was the last time you had someone—other than your family—to be so concerned about your wellbeing? Granted, there is a baby that is involved in all of this, and it would be normal for him to care, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like he is seeing right through you.

“I think I read somewhere that the baby will be okay,” you look down at your stomach and start rubbing your hand gently over it. “Maybe we can go gentle. At least until we get to see the OB and ask more.”

“Good idea,” he says with a smile, while you feel soft inside. But when his hand begins to move again, his thumb grazing down your exposed stomach, the heat rises back up and he is back in the game.

His smouldering gaze feels like a complete opposite to the softness in his voice when he says, “Alright, I can do gentle. Just tell me if it gets too much, or you can lead the pace so I won’t make any mistake.”

He wears the same wicked smile that stole your heart many nights ago as he lifts off from your body. You watch with your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as he begins stripping himself. His sweater comes off, showing you his hard chest and filled arms which you haven’t had the chance to appreciate in the past.

This time, you get to see everything with a clear mind. Instead of feeling hazy with intoxication, all you can feel now is the haze coming from your need for him.

Reaching down to his pants, he pushes down his zipper. With a mocking grin, he makes a great gesture of pushing down his pants, only to stop once he hears your moan.

“God, I missed hearing that sound coming out of your lips,“ he murmurs. He immediately returns to you and pushes your pants and panties down in one motion. Your bra comes off right before your butt comes back down on the bed. Having not an inch of your skin covered while you are lying there makes you feel exposed and vulnerable. Yet he keeps a gentle hold on your waist, holding you still while he takes you in.

“I remember thinking that you were beautiful, but it beats seeing you in this kind of light to see what I didn’t get to see,” he murmurs, almost groaning as he takes you in.

Licking your lips, you hold back, keeping your voice from trembling to answer, “We were both kinda drunk, so—”

“Were we?” he chuckles softly and returns to you again, as if he can’t take being apart from you for too long. He presses his lips on your collarbone and whispers, “Good thing we get the chance to change that.”

Your legs come up and wrap around his waist the moment he is back on top of you. The way his hard chest is pressing on your bare breasts feels heavenly. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest, almost at the same rhythm as yours. But your attention is quickly drawn away once you try to move your hips to get comfortable beneath his weight, only to unintentionally rub yourself against his body.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as you brush against him. Heat pools right at the depth of your core once you feel just how badly he wants you. It grows more intense as he pushes back into you, rubbing his covered cock against your center until you feel your wet arousal soiling the front of his pants.

Yet still, the friction isn’t enough to satiate your needs.

“Taehyung—”

The moment he hears you calling his name—his real name—something dark and feral flashes through his gaze. As if saying his name in the heat of desire snaps something inside him that needs to be unleashed.

His mouth comes down to capture yours just then, claiming you with a deep kiss. You writhe beneath him while he devours your lips, pressing against his center in a silent plea to have him striping himself off of the restricting pants and letting you feel him.

Without saying a word, he understands what you are asking for and complies. With a reluctant sigh, he pulls back. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time as he pushes down his pants and boxer briefs until he is completely bare. His hard cock immediately springs free right before your eyes, drawing your attention towards it the same way it did the first night you were with him.

“Say it again,” he says to you with a deep voice. A rough sigh escapes him as he wraps his hand around his girth and starts stroking himself, making himself hard and ready while he pleads with you, “Say my name.”

“Taehyung,” you call him with a soft moan, and he lets go every last bit of his restrictions and covers your whole body with his.

His mouth crashes down on yours, kissing you passionately until your body grows hot. A moan slips from you, and his tongue sweeps in between your parted lips, getting entangled with yours and you are immediately lost. You barely notice it when his hand moves down, slipping between your bodies to find the source of your heat.

He flicks at your nether lips, drawing a gasp from your lips, and your hips rise up to welcome him. Then he slides a finger into your pulsing core, entering you until you are arching against his chest, overwhelmed with the sensation that he draws out of your body as he buries his finger deeper into your pussy.

While he slides his finger in and out of you, his mouth remains pressed on yours, swallowing every sound you are making. Drowning every cries, every moans, while he continues devouring you as though you are his lifeline.

The pleasure rises, and your body starts moving on its own before you can control it. You start grinding against his finger, needing more. It starts with a slow rock, but the more the pleasure climbs within your body, you continue grinding harder and harder onto his hand. This seems to amuse him, as you can feel his smile growing against his lips before he pulls away, freeing you from his searing kiss.

Yet his hand continues to move, not resting until you can finally find release. “That’s it, ______. Give it to me, baby. Come for me,” he whispers with his deep voice like a spell.

Under his encouraging words and his relentless strokes, you finally reach your orgasm. It feels so intense you can almost feel as if your body shatters in his hold, with your breath coming out in broken pants and your moans rising higher.

With a gentle move, he pulls his finger out of you, leaving behind a series of small spasms inside your pussy from the climax.

You immediately feel empty. But he doesn’t make you wait long as he positions himself between your parted legs, and his heavy hard-on comes right where his finger had been. His cock slides in between your slit, moving back and forth as he rocks his hips. The friction draws the slick sound of your release as he continues rubbing the entire length of his cock against your hot cunt.

As your body continues to shudder beneath him, Taehyung lets out a deep groan. “Can’t wait, baby. Need to be inside you now.”

“Yes, fuck me, Taehyung,” you cry out, and those exact words are the ones that draw him to move.

You should have been prepared for it, yet your mind and body are somewhat occupied. Distracted by the blinding pleasure that he keeps pulling out of you, you are not ready when he slams his cock into you. You instantly cry out, and Taehyung stills inside you.

You can feel your muscles clenching, pulsing around him in small spasms of pleasure at the sudden invasion. It draws a moan out of him, and he holds you in his arms to help soothe you through it until you are more accustomed to his width filling you up.

“You okay, baby? I’m sorry,” he whispers with his lips pressing gently on your skin. Starting from your neck, your chin, and then he keeps making his way up to capture your parted lips. His kiss is soft, barely a flutter, but with every pulse rising in your body, you can feel the heat shooting right into your core.

You wait just long enough until the pounding sound of your heartbeat eases before answering him, “I’m okay.”

You start to wiggle under his weight, moving your hips to test if it’s going to hurt. When you feel that your muscles are no longer tense, and nothing but pleasure rushes through your body, you start moving your hips more. Grinding down his length, you can feel your hot walls contracting around his thick cock. It draws a sharp hiss out of his lips, and he jerks his hips against you, as though he is close to losing control.

“Are you going to stay there the entire time we’re here”—you tease him while tightening your legs around his waist, your hands on his hard shoulders—”or are you going to fuck me?”

Taehyung lets out a deep chuckle and begins to move. “So impatient. It’s been a while, so I’m only letting you act like a brat just this once,” he growls against your lips as he rocks his hips, moving in a slow pace.

It feels so good. But you want more. You need more.

With your heels pressing on his back, you rock back against him, grinding into his cock. He reacts with a groan, murmuring to you, “Fuck, that feels good. You want more?”

The pleasure continues climbing. It starts to feel overwhelming that words fail you. The only thing you can give him is a nod. A sharp gasp comes out of your lips when he starts picking up his pace, going faster while pushing deeper with each thrust.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he nearly begs, sounding desperate when you have yet to give him words in response to him. “Please, baby. Promise me. I’m barely holding on here, but I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.”

His voice goes in and out of your senses, yet you still manage to hear what he is trying to say. “I’m fine, Taehyung. I won’t hide it, I promise.”

He lets out a relieved sigh and smashes his lips on yours. “Good,” he groans against your lips. “Hang on tight then, baby.”

Those words become the last warning as the force and speed of his thrusts escalate, hitting you deep and hard until your toes are curling and your throat feels tight with the urge to cry out in pleasure. Your chest rises in an arch at the sensations you are getting as your hard nipples are rubbing against his chest.

But your mind is clear enough for you to do exactly what he asked of you.

Your legs are pressing around him, not tight enough to make it hard for him to move, but enough to keep you attached to him. Your arms are around him, fingers running up to the nape of his neck and pulling at the back of his hair, while the other hand runs down his back, nails sinking into his skin as he takes you on a wild ride.

Pleasure explodes through your body under his hard strokes. Your mouth falls open with a series of strained cries, calling his name. You wish he would lean down, to kiss you, to drown the sounds of pleasure that you are unable to hold in. Yet Taehyung chooses to pull back, allowing himself to keep his eyes on you as he continues with his relentless thrusts, making sure that he wouldn’t miss any sign of pain that may show on your face.

But the pain that you had expected to come from his rough lovemaking only extends the pleasure. The wet sounds of his thrusts pushing deep inside you fills the room, growing intense by the minute. Your skin flushes warmly as blood pulses deep in your core, your pussy walls flutter around his girth, letting him know how close you are to reach the edge.

“Are you close, baby? Do you want to come?” he whispers to you with a groan, and you find yourself crying out,

“Yes, Taehyung—I’m close. Please, let me cum. Please—”

With his hands reaching down your hips, he lifts your bottom half slightly off the mattress, placing you in a new angle that allows him to reach deeper. Your whole body quakes once he finds your sweet spot, and as he repeatedly pushes his cock against that hidden spot inside you, you soon feel him pushing you over the edge, with him not slowing down even for just a moment. And you take it all while you continue clinging desperately to him with your nails sinking into the skin on his back.

Pleasure flares through you like fireworks. A new wave of raw pleasure overcomes you, and your body erupts with the first wave of your orgasm. It flows smoothly through your body, but still intense enough to knock the air out of your chest. You cry out with a strained voice, your entire body shuddering beneath him.

You heave as wave after wave of pleasure overcome your body, yet Taehyung shows no sign of stopping. Still not having enough, he still fills you up with long, deep strokes that rock your body and the entire bed together.

With every shake of your body, your nipples grow hard that they start to hurt as your skin keeps rubbing against his chest. Looking between you, Taehyung’s eyes turn darker with lust. You force yourself to watch him through your haze, feeling more than seeing it when he runs one hand down your belly.

His big palm stays there, as if silently greeting the baby growing inside, before it continues to travel lower, finding home right where your bodies are joined. With his thumb and forefinger, he flicks at your engorged clit. Already throbbing and growing sensitive with the amount of frictions happening all at once, it sends your hips rising as another wave of pleasure rises from your core.

Deep groans escape his lips as he savours the sight of you embracing the pleasure, and he continues playing with your clit—rubbing, flicking, pinching, drawing pain and pleasure over the constant thrusting of his cock. And just when you are feeling it building up once more from within, the telltale of your orgasm that you have been depraved of for so long, Taehyung leans down, capturing one taut nipple between his mouth and bites down.

"Oh god. Oh god. I'm going to come again,” you cry out with your hips rising to meet each hard thrust that he is giving you.

“Yes, that’s it. Cum for me like a good girl," he croons against your skin, which sends you straight into the next round of climax while you are still riding the aftershock of your last one.

Your body shudders as another orgasm rocks your entire body, and your muscles clamp around his hard cock, sucking him with a tight clench as he thrusts in and out, pushing deep and sending your body shaking violently as you finally succumb into an earth-shattering orgasm that takes away the last drop of strength that you still have.

And the force of your final orgasm is what sets him off.

With a deep groan, and a rough tremble of his chest, Taehyung finally finds his release. You can feel his warmth filling your insides, his cock twitching and pumping between your spasming walls, and you are almost sure that the wicked sensation of him filling you up with his cum is enough to send you to a smaller, much more subtle climax.

It takes a while for you to come down from the height of your release, and Taehyung is there, helping you to ride off your orgasm with the slow strokes of his cock and the gentle brush of his fingers as he slowly comes to halt.

Once everything is done, your body is completely spent that you are unable to move. Your legs have turned languid as Taehyung gently drops them back onto the bed. The room is filled with the sound of deep breathing as both of you are fighting to catch your breaths.

You can barely feel your arms moving, but essentially, he is freed from your tight hold, allowing him to pull out of you before dropping down beside you.

The room no longer feels cold now that your entire body is burning hot. Seeing the thin sheet of sweat on his skin, you know that Taehyung is feeling the same heat, yet it doesn’t stop him from turning to his side and wrapping his arms around you to pull you close.

The sound of your intense heartbeat makes it hard for you to listen to any other sounds. You feel so tired. The lack of sleep you had last night is making it hard for you to fight off the drowsiness that is coming over you. Feeling relieved and sated, you just want to give in to sleep.

Your eyelids keep growing heavy, and once your breath is calm, you can feel Taehyung’s gentle kiss pressing on your temple. His voice is barely a whisper when he murmurs to you, “——sleep, rest for a while. It’s not like we’re in any rush to get anywhere, right?”

You open your mouth to answer him, yet your body fights against it. His words seem to act like a spell, when you are soon taken deep into slumber, falling into a dreamless sleep with his arms wrapped around your body.

When you finally come to, the soft light of the afternoon sun is slowly penetrating through the windows.

It feels warm inside, especially now that you have a blanket covering your naked body and his heavy arm resting languidly around your waist, yet you know that the same cannot be said with the weather outside. Even without opening your eyes, you can still hear the sound of the fierce wind hitting the windows, and you doubt that the road would be safe enough for you to drive out of this place.

You find yourself curling against Taehyung’s bare chest as you properly come to wake. His heartbeat is steady, and you can feel it when he starts waking up.

“Hey, there—” you whisper, greeting him with a sleepy smile, which he returns with his goofy smile. “Was I asleep for a long time?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, not long enough,” he whispers. “I also just woke up, though. So—”

Chuckling softly, you stretch out next to him. Your muscles are lax, and while you still feel worn-out, the short nap has restored your energy some. It helps clear your mind, yet you still refuse to move a muscle.

Glancing at Taehyung, you notice that he has a faraway look in his eyes. He keeps his gaze out the window, and you start wondering what he is thinking about.

“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” Taehyung asks you with a gentle sigh.

You close your eyes briefly and sigh contently before answering, “With the baby? I mean, it might be a struggle at first. I know because I haven’t really grasp the fact that I’m carrying your baby, but—”

“No, I’m not talking about this,” he says with his hand waving around your entangled bodies. “I’m talking about—” he waves his hand to point at the window. The muted light of the sun that you saw earlier is still looking bleak, more of a pale-grey than the usual golden, with the wild swirls of snow dropping from the sky and no sign of the blizzard letting up anytime soon. “That.”

He sighs. “I feel like we’ve had strings of bad luck constantly following us.”

Smiling against his chest, you know what he is trying to say. “We slept together twice, and both happened due to bad weather,” you deliberately deduce his thoughts with a hum. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” he says with a delirious chuckle, finding it somewhat funny now that you have voiced his thoughts out loud. “Looks like we’re stranded together, again, until the wind starts letting up. They say it’s going to be soon, but I’m not sure.”

You cannot stop smiling the more you think about it. “Funny how it keeps happening to us, huh? At least we can remember this day as the first Christmas morning we celebrated together,” you say this with a grin, as you pull back to rub at your stomach from over the blanket. “Just the three of us.”

Taehyung follows your gaze and scoffs. “Way to go for making me feel guilty about stealing you from your family on Christmas Day,” he grumbles, making you laugh. “And if we’re actually doing this, uh—this relationship, do you think it’ll be weird?”

You look up to him, seeing the frown forming on his face. Before you can question what he means by it, Taehyung continues to explain, “Maybe I shouldn’t come to see your family again next Christmas, or anytime soon. At least until we’re settled and everyone has forgotten about everything.”

The way he says it, and the way he looks when he did, makes you want to laugh. “I think we’re good. And you can always join us next year. Besides, the holidays aren’t so bad with you around. Not this year. It beats sitting down and listening to other people’s stories for once.”

Hearing this, Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you. “Even with all the drama we had with your sister?” he asks, sounding doubtful. “In case you forgot, I almost had a brawl with your stepfather.”

For the first time ever, you doesn’t feel any need to correct him by calling Alia as your stepsister. That thought makes you smile. But you keep it to yourself, and instead lean up to kiss his cheek to help ease his mind out of it.

“What we had?” you question him with a teasing voice, “that’s nothing. You haven’t experienced having Aunt Janey around. Have you ever read or heard those Reddit stories about entitled aunts? She would have gotten all the trophies if anyone in the family has ever written anything about her online.”

You smile as Taehyung listens to you with a chuckle, and you can feel his worries slowly being lifted. “And as for Dad—” you let out a sigh as you think about your protective stepfather, “let’s just hope that Alia manages to butter him up to let things go. You know that he’s weak when it comes to her. Or, you can buy him a drink the next time you see him.”

Taehyung purses his lips as he considers this. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to believe your words, but he still nods his head either way. “Fine, I guess we can talk about that later. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there, I suppose?” he asks with a bashful smile. “Why don’t we focus on you for now, and the baby?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow while holding up the blanket with the other arm to cover your nakedness from his hungry eyes. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he says with a grin as he sits up against the bed’s headrest. “Should we continue and maybe do this with a late lunch, though? I’m starving. I couldn’t eat anything at breakfast.”

“Are you famished for food, or—” you tease him by leaning closer, “Do you have an appetite for another thing?

He groans. “If the second option has anything to do with you, then the answer would be both. But we need to get some food in our system if we want to get back into the other.”

Laughing, you finally step out of the bed to call for the room service. You continue to spend the rest of the day with him, chatting over the meal, talking about your future plans and all the mundane things that you need to know about each other, before the heat between you picks up again and he pulls you back into bed.

Warmth envelopes you the entire time you are with him, regardless of the winter storm that is still happening outside of these walls.

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading this story! Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. See you in the next story :)

#k-vanity #bangtanwhq #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts x reader

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whimsical-roasting · 9 months

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Jamie Tartt and the Five Love Language

THERES SO MUCH I COULD SAYYY and special thanks to @caapsiizzereads for helping me brainstorm some of these!! ugh just wanna love on the babyboy so much yknow??

TELL ME IF THERE'S MORE YOU CAN THINK OFFFFF

Words of Affirmations:

HE HAS A PRAISE KINK. ITS LITERALLYYYYYYY CANNON

Babyboy is so precious…… he knows how it feels not to get kind words, and so he just can’t help but give them out to you

“Woah, babe…your mind..” in a stunned manner when you go off about something you’re passionate about

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers at night as you fall asleep

Has a shared spotify playlist that you both can collab on, and it’s just songs (lyrics) that remind you of each other!! Jamie plays it when he’s heading to away games in the coach, and it makes him feel a bit calmer

Giving you ALL the praise and dirty talk during sexy time “you’re so fucking beautiful”, “you make me feel so so good” “holy fuck angel”

Sometimes just stares at you randomly with a goofy look and you’re like ??? what ??? what is it ?? did he realise i’m ugly or my nose is weird or wHAT !!!???!! and he’s just like, “you look like sunshine”, all smitten and shit

Kisses each feature on your body and says “my favourite” to every. single. one.

“I believe in ya!”

Desperately wants to make sure you guys have a couple’s song - something meaningful that describes how he feels about you that he can play for you both… like Sweet Nothings by Taylor Swift/Hearts Don’t Break Around You by Ed Sheeran/Simple Things by Miguel

Plays that song after fights when the silences are still tender; when you’re drunk and slow dancing in the kitchen at 3am; when you’re getting dressed for a gala, and he’s fixing his hair, and you’re putting on your earrings

“I adore you, sweetheart”, “you look like a pretty flower”, “me heart fuckin sings seeing ya”

Physical Touch:

Absent-mindedly plays with your hair

Nuzzles face into your neck and then peppers kisses on your shoulder

Massages/scratches your scalp cause he knows how good it feels when you do it for him

Traces patterns on your knee and thighs if you sit next to him

Gotta be holding hands at all times

Pinky promises are sacred… probs locks pinkies and then kisses his thumb to “stamp it”

Slapping his ass as he walks past you, and so he’s always covering his butt, complaining “babeeee you can’t do thattttt”, but then he’ll be all pouty if one day you don’t slap his ass when he walks past… “do you not love me anymore?”

He will randomly come up to you, wrap your arms around you, getting as close as possible and tuck his face between your shoulder and neck, saying that he’s recharging

Always gotta be touching some part of you.. it’s the only way to live tbh

Gift Giving:

Remember when Jamie was like, “can’t I just buy them all PS5s as a sorry??” “what better thing to spend money on than love?“ LMFAOOOO babyboy :”) he means well

The amount of effort he put into Roy’s gift for Uncle’s Day <3

Jamie would fucking love getting you fancy, expensive gifts around big occasions (birthdays, holidays etc.)

BUT I think he’d also love getting you smaller gifts like… Sunday morning flowers, or stocking up on different kinds of herbal tea in his kitchen cause he knows sometimes you’re in the mood for a random cuppa on quiet evenings

Personally, someone like me loves cute tea cups/mugs, so I think buying two mugs to keep in his house cause “they’re so cute, and I wanted them for us” would make him so happy!! He doesn’t even use them all that much, but just seeing them in the cupboard makes him smiley

The kind to want matching outfits or colour-coordinated outfits - most def would buy you both matching sneakers (so would Isaac/most of the team with his S/O)

Gets you a ‘J’ gold chain and wears a gold one with your initial

If he sees some targeted ad on your insta or something for what you’ve searched up he’s like hmmm,,,,,,i might just,,,*add to cart*

Quality Time:

Wants to spend all his time with you!! Ofc he does!!!

Is happy to just sit in silence, stroking your calves he watches tiktok with your legs on his lap!! Esp if you’re like reading/doing work on your laptop

He just wants to be there yknow? And he tries not to be annoying but the little puppy can’t help but wanna talk and touch and, ultimately, annoy you

Tries to invite you to all his events? “Can me girlfriend come?”

Even the ones that aren’t for guests, “babeeee, what do ya mean you won’t come to Colin’s guys' night? I swear they’ll be fine with it…probably!!” “can I come to girl’s night with ya? I’ll let you paint me nails…come on.. Pleaseeee?”

Texts you periodically during the night regardless ahahaha

I like the idea of, “hey I gotta drive somewhere, and it’s gonna take me 30 minutes..can you talk?” whilst one of you is in the car and the other’s at home or, I dunno, has some time during their day

Date nightssssss every two weeks… OR if the season gets busy and he’s also exhausted from Roy’s trainings then SPECIFIC carved out time to be affectionate and date-y

“I’m so sorry, love, I know we had that reservation tonight, but I came home knackered and just crashed…” “Jaim, it’s okay-” “No, no, it’s not! I’m so fucking dead from training I don’t even get to take ya out anymore! What if- what if you wanted a picnic, huh!” “Baby, it’s okay, really.. How about we set up a picnic on the living room floor and order takeout? Something that Roy’ll let you eat, yea?” “I’m so fucking grateful for ya, angel, I swear”

He always wants you to watch him score a goal on FIFA cause he’s a child ahahaha… probably teaches you how to play and then pouts when you score as Obisanya

Wants to try out random hobbies with you - sip and paint cause “I’ll have an excuse to draw outta the lines”; knitting cause “Bumbercatch said it’s soothin, babe”; quick dry clay but he makes a big circular lump at first and grins at you “look babe!! I made a football!”

Acts of Service:

HIM TEACHING ROY HOW TO RIDE A BIKE

Makes you coffee once he’s back from his 4am training

Always offers you his jacket/coat

“I know this was stressing ya, babe, so I took care of it”

“Don’t worry, love, I’ve been practising this dish just for you.. I won’t burn it this time, promise”

Late night cravings???? McDonald’s fries and an Oreo Mcflurry?? He’s already slipping on his jacket and finding his keys (imagine how attentive he’d be with your weird ass pregnancy cravings omg)

ALWAYS opens doors for you... Probably yells “WAIT” when in the car with you just so he can jog out and open your door with a grin

Always down to carry your purse, puts it on his shoulder like it’s HIS despite having his lil bum bag across his chest

Nightime or morning routine, he probs has to get ready before you so he lays out your skincare for you. Probs adds toothpaste on your brush if he hears you getting ready to enter the bathroom

Probably the main one driving everywhere, but if you drive and need to fill up your tank, he’ll be the one to get out and fill it then pay,,, he’s almost offended that you say you’re capable of doing so yourself, “babe, what am I here for?!”

Tries to eat in accordance with your dietary requirements (e.g. I’m vegetarian) if you guys have date night - or he’ll always have like mouthwash and gum so he can kiss ya later without making you feel uncomfortable!!

“Ooh babe, they have the ravioli ya like and the vodka gnocchi!! Okay, you order the ravioli, and I’ll get the gnocchi and we’ll split, yea?” “Hey Jaim, can we order fries too?” “Fuck yea!”

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt #phil dunster #jamie tartt love languages #tell me moreeee #i didn't proof read so gl bae

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kithtaehyung · 4 months

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back to december (teaser) (m) | ksj

title: back to december (teaser) pairing: brother's best friend!seokjin x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, wedding au, second chance au summary: ever since you left town to pursue your dreams, life has fast forwarded into one big blur. so when you hit pause to attend your brother’s wedding exactly three years later, your brain instinctively resets and rewinds. because you have to spend it with the very person that had been there at the start. the one person you regret leaving behind. note: this originally started as a one-shot for @raplinesmoon for the maui relief fundraiser, but turned into something more. since it also fit into the mold of this holiday collab, here we are! note 2: this is part of the jingle all the way collaboration with @kpopfanfictrash, @leahsfavefics, @cybrsan, @yoonia, and @sugaurora! all the holiday collab fics have the phrase “the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.” warnings: [explicit warnings to be posted on drop day!] language, alcohol, angst lol, time switches/flashbacks, seokjin being the sweetest until he’s not >:)), reader being damn cool, overthinking, bbf!jin needs his own warning i am warning y’all now, horribly great jokes, winter themes, relationship failures, stress/anxiety, jin being jin, did i say angst?, falling into cold water, a lot of gd yearning mood: back to december - taylor swift, halley's comet - billie eilish, universe/snowing in la - thuy teaser word count: 1.2k | est. word count: uhhh 20k+ lol wanna be on the taglist? add yourself here! est. drop date: january 2024

It all started with an accident in winter.

Ever the gracious hosts, your family decided to throw a cookout for your brother’s birthday, inviting everyone in the neighborhood and its outskirts to join in celebration. While your brother was initially opposed to being outside in the frost, word got around that his crush of three years running would be present, which suddenly warmed him right up to the whole idea.

Typical.

You were also initially opposed—having to sit through the festivities while your older sibling hogged all the attention—until you discovered your own downfall was attending, too.

Because of course he would.

And if he was coming, you were set on making your naive self presentable and noticeable, and you still consider the day of the party to be the best you’ve ever carried yourself. You were confident, you were radiant.

Until you got bumped into the backyard pool.

You don’t even recall who knocked you in. All you remember was water rushing into your vision, and paddling through outright shame and embarrassment when you shakily swam your freezing bones to the ledge. Everyone saw you: your friends, your family, your brother’s older circle and acquaintances. In your adolescence, it was the literal worst thing to have happened to anyone in the history of ever.

But someone’s outstretched hand greeted you when you got to the pool’s edge.

And when you looked up, you questioned if you hit the bottom on the way in because the face you were seeing was a shock. Were you deceased? Did you somehow swim to heaven’s beach?

No. It was really him, the very person you got all dressed up for.

Seokjin. Handsome, reserved, off-limits friend of your brother Seokjin.

Years later, you still question why he was the one helping you out. But it didn’t matter at the time because all you wanted was to get thawed out as soon as possible.

“Come on,” he had urged. “You’ll get sick.”

Trembling because of the cold and nothing else, you took his hand and let him haul you into the house, wondering what the hell was going on the entire time. Why was he the one helping you? Where the hell was your brother?

Because not only did he lead you inside, but the boy also accompanied you to your bathroom, grabbing a towel off its rack and wrapping it around your knocking shoulder blades.

“Grab some clothes, okay?”

“Huh?”

“Go get clothes,” Seokjin ordered, moving towards your shower. “And change out of those as soon as you can.”

“Oh.” Blinking, you couldn’t decide if your shivers were from the fall or his comments. But either way, you were shaking horrendously. “Yeah, okay.”

After that, you remember being so cold you couldn’t even move your legs. Which meant that Seokjin had to lead you to your room and wait at the entrance while you hastily grabbed whatever you could find.

There was no way he was gonna catch the cutesy patterns of your underwear. No way.

When you were done, Seokjin brought you back into the restroom, the spray of water echoing through the festively decorated space. “It should be warm enough now,” he urged. “Don’t wait.”

“Thank you,” you finally huffed, hating how your shakes stifled your gratitude. “You can, uhm. Go back out there now.”

“Mm.” In the doorway, his eyes reflected the bright lights so perfectly. To this day, you still remember the way you compared them to stars. “Well. Umm. Good luck.”

And you will never forget the way you felt heat before you even touched the run of the shower.

“Yes, it’s all set. We are still on for Monday.”

“Good. This is the meeting we absolutely cannot miss.”

“Umm, yes—I mean—Understood.”

“Is everything okay over there?”

Rushing to close the door of your rental, you bite back a curse as your suit jacket catches in the edge. Because of course it does after the frantic day you’ve already had. “Yes! Everything’s”—you smush your top against your side while shutting the door again—“Fine! But I do have to go.”

“Sure, sure. Oh, one more thing—”

Right. Rummaging through your purse, you locate the keys at the very bottom while trying to ingest the four things being tossed into your ear, locking the car in a fast walk to the massive mountainside property ahead of you.

“ —then we’ll finalize the merger. Got that?”

Holy shit, your brother must be doing even better than you or his fiance is loaded.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Yes, Mr. Hamada, we can do that.”

“Mm. What did we say about language.”

“Apologies.” Damn your filthy mouth for running even faster in cold weather. Because it is the goddamn arctic out here. “I will say I have been getting better, though.”

“Improvement won’t matter if you fuck up during the meeting.”

“Alright, buddy.” Your superior’s laugh grates your ear as you haul ass into the warm estate, worry suddenly gripping you when you realize that no one is walking around.

Shit, are you that late? Did you miss everything?

Skittering right to the main doors, you start to panic. Are these the main doors? They look like them. Fancy. Very fancy. Shit, shit, shit, is the wedding over—

A full body bumps into your side as you round a table bursting with flowers. Having a sound enough mind to cover your receiver, you react in a shout, “Hey, watch it—”

“Sorry!”

Wait. You know that voice.

Even though it’s one that you haven’t heard in years.

“…Jin?”

Everything slowly stops as the man turns and, if you weren’t so in shock, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes traveled from your heels to your perfectly trimmed brows.

You expect both something and nothing. Because when it comes to the person standing in front of you, there’s no telling what he’ll destroy you with next.

But what comes out is merely a tiny, chest-constricting,

“Hello.”

You stare, and stare, and stare some more. Even your boss cannot bring you back to the present with his incessant poking.

Because Jin looks so fucking handsome in his suit that’s not quite dressed yet, with hair that’s swept just enough to throw you off planet earth. Even the way his tie lounges around his neck gives you pause, because it showcases how broad his shoulders have become.

How can he look the same and yet so heartbreakingly different?

“I—”

“Later, tuna fish.”

Your heart lurches.

“They’re waiting for me.”

To your dismay, Seokjin presses a soft hand on your shoulder while passing through the ornate entrance, his lingering burn searing through as you watch him button his suit on the run.

Well. At least you didn’t miss the wedding.

You hear your sibling’s hearty shout echo throughout the hall, but you have to physically tear yourself from your spot to finally answer your boss.

And to not fixate on the one person you thought you were safe from today.

But of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be? Him and your brother have been inseparable since the beginning, and you should’ve known even being on different planets wouldn’t keep them apart too long.

Speaking of…

Traveling to another galaxy might solve the numbing ache in your chest. Maybe you should consider that gigantic leap yourself.

Because seeing Jin again brings you back to December.

And the frost you feel in your bones overshadows any weather brewing outside.

tbc.

wheee! we have a teaser! | join the taglist!

a/n: isi i hope you know what monster you're about to unleash lmao. here's to another holiday seokjin! gosh, he will keep haunting me and i love him for it. second chance with isi's initial brother's best friend!jin request? gotta love it. the one-two-three punch, i reckon. anyways, hope y'all enjoyed the teaser and i am so so nervous about the main drop but hope you like that, as well :'))

links: jingle all the way collab ; masterlist

#let's get it!#bts fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fic #*latest #*ryenfictalk #holidaycollab #fic:btd #seokjin x you #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #seokjin smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #ryenwrites

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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

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real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’.

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back.

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume.

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.”

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.��

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit.

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #a hyung holiday

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sailoryooons · 1 year

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F*ck Christmas | myg (m)

❆ Paring: Yoongi x f. reader

❆ Summary: Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

❆ Word Count: 23,466

❆ Genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

❆ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❆ Warnings: Reader is miserable to start this and isn't very nice to Yoongi because she has Feelings and unpacked issues, a lot of nostalgia, mentions of depression and depictions of anxiety, mentions of parent deaths (Yoonig's mom, readers dad), a lot of familial guilt, reader isn't always The Best, Yoongi's dad has some failing memory with old age, Yoongi and reader and their endless pining, cheesy and very contrived scenarios, explicit language, recreational drinking, explicit sexual content including, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving) fingering (f. receiving), Big Dick Yoongi, bodily fluids, established safeword, honestly emotional fucking ok, reader being a bit in subspace/overwhelmed during sex, cheesy as fuck ending

❆ Published: December 28, 2022

❆ A/N: Holy shit this is finally done. It is days, late, about 10k more words than it was supposed to be because I couldn't shut the fuck up, and it is not my favorite thing I have ever written, but I hope that you enjoy it anyway, and that you find some comfort if you have a hard time during the holidays like I sure as shit do (which is why this fic is legit so late ijsdgkjng). Eternally grateful to M for being my mental crutch during this process, reading to make sure it doesn't suck and constantly assuring me I'm not writing a total car wreck. Super pleased to have been able to write with @here2bbtstrash @gimmethatagustd and @nabiolive so please please please make sure you check out their fics when they're posted (Jai's is posted now so GO READ!!!!)

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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The monotonous shuffle of feet, mechanical click of the baggage claim conveyor, and three-toned chime before a muffled and completely unintelligible airport announcement work together in tandem to make a grating symphony.

You spot your neon green, plastic suitcase drifting through the black flaps of the conveyer. As it nears, a cluster of people block your access, huddling and waiting for their bags right up against it. With an angry sigh, you navigate around them, throwing a glare as you reach for your back and haul it off the conveyor.

People who crowd baggage claim when their bags aren’t out are at the top of your travel intolerances, second only to people who clap when the plane lands.

Wheeling your suitcase toward the entrance as fast as you can, you look at your lock screen to see that your mother has blown up your phone with text messages.

[Mom]: Gate G

[Mom]: I’m at gate G

[Mom]: I still have the white Macaran. Gate G I am waiting by it.

[Mom]: What are you wearing? I will try to pull up closer.

[Mom]: They are asking me not to wait. Do you have your bags yet? Is it close to Gate G?

“For the love of Christ,” you mutter under your breath, shoving the device in your pocket.

The airport doors open, making a stuttering suction sound as they do. Cold air hits you in the face, making you flinch and squint.

Just near the column marked ‘G’ your mother waits in her white car, waving wildly when she sees you. Despite your temporary annoyance, you give her a tight-lipped grin as she climbs out of the car, running to you with hand motions signaling she wants your bag.

“Hi, hi!” she cheers, grabbing you quickly for a brief hug before making grabbing motions toward your bag. “Here, let me! Let me!”

“It’s fine,” you assure, trying to wheel the heavy bag away from you. You both end up wheeling it together, your mom refusing to let go of the handle until she’s opening the trunk and you’re hauling it into the back. “Thanks.”

Inside the car, the leather seats are heated and the hot air is blasting enough to threaten a nosebleed. You close the vents as your mother gets in, saying something you can’t hear over the blaring horns, slamming of her door, and fumbling with her seatbelt.

“What?”

“How was your flight?”

Awful. Long. Filled with absolute dread of the finality of your one-way ticket. Wondering if the movers had successfully delivered your shit to storage and dropped your car off at your mother’s house.

Naturally, you say none of these things. You offer canned responses with forced happiness that your mother doesn’t detect. She’s just happy to see you. The thought makes you soften a little.

Outside the world is covered in sheets of white. You know the winding roads well. Your mother talks about how it’s just the two of you for Christmas morning, but that she is volunteering at the homeless shelter on Christmas Eve. You take this in with a soft hum, eyes watching as you pass Mulberry street.

If you drive down another mile and take a left, you’ll be at Plaza Center, the mecca of your childhood with a movie theater, a Blockbuster turned Mattress Firm, Lucky Strike bowling alley, and a combination grocery store and liquor store where you used to huddle outside in the cold while waiting for someone’s fake ID to work.

Soft music plays in the background as the tires hum on the road. You pass by the newer additions to the town – Starbucks, Olive Garden, Longhorns – they’ve all replaced longtime restaurants and a laser tag place that you remember having three birthdays in a row at.

“Tired?” your mom asks, drawing you from trying to draw up the red brick houses from memory instead of watching them blur by. You hum. “You can take a nap later, get that airplane yuck off of you. Yoongi is working on fixing those damned cabinets. He ripped out the whole thing-“

“What?”

“What what?”

“Why is Yoongi in your house?”

Your mother blinks at you owlishly as she pulls up to the stop light. You realize suddenly that she’s in one of your father’s old sweatshirts from university. It cuts you like a knife as you readjust yourself in the seat, suddenly tense and griping the door.

“Min Yoongi still lives here?”

“Of course he does,” she scoffs and turns when the light changes. “Do you not keep up with him? You guys used to be such good friends.”

“Why is he at the house?”

“I just told you, he’s re-doing those damn cabinets. They had mold in them.”

For a moment, you just slow-blink at your mother. Min Yoongi is in her house – your house, now. You haven’t seen him since college. You knew he had moved back after school to help move his dad into a home, but he was supposed to leave once his dad was settled.

He was… well he was supposed to be a big-shot architect. You just assumed he was. It occurs to you that you can’t remember the last time you even looked at Yoongi’s social media, though that was more on purpose than you’d like to admit.

Who wants to see what their life-long crush is still up to after they’ve long stopped talking to you?

“So you had him do our cabinets? He’s an architect, not a contractor.”

“You really don’t know shit,” your mom laughs. “Yoongi took over his dad’s shop down on Miriam. Home Depot keeps trying to run him out, but most of us still like the comfort of Min’s Hardware. Plus, he spends the entire last quarter of the year building toys and the like for the children’s home and new chairs and furniture for the old folks home.”

You pause. “Is Old Man Min-“

It’s hard to bring yourself to finish the sentence. You remember the bleak affair of summer 09’ when Yoongi’s mother passed away, but you feel like someone would have told you if his father had passed.

Thankfully, your mother shakes her head. “Still kicking. Yoongi didn’t want to sell out to one of those land development companies, though. They kept trying to pressure him – they want to open up a Super Target – but he said no.”

“Huh.” You lean back in the seat as your mom turns down your street. There is a sense of trepidation as you pass rows of brick-and-mortar homes with nondescript cars in the drive. “Good for him. Fuck Target.”

“Yeah, well. I wouldn’t mind a target, but I certainly don’t want it to replace Min’s.”

A dark blue truck sits in the drive of your home. It’s hard not to focus on it, your eyes drifting from the swan-shaped mailbox to the giant blow-up decorations still wiggling, even covered in snow. The wind chimes are frozen on the porch and there’s a tarp on the swing set in front of the kitchen window.

The kitchen window, where you vaguely make out a shape with his back turned.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You have no reason to be nervous to see Min Yoongi and yet the thought of awkwardly walking into the kitchen like hey how are you threatens to make your demand your mom drive you back to the airport even though you have nowhere to go.

No home to go back to. No fiancé to-

Your mom shuts off the dark and slides out. She’s still rattling on about the developers buying up land and putting in condos and luxury apartments that no one can afford. You’re a beat behind her, slipping a little on the icy drive as you scramble out of the vehicle and retrieve your bag.

Inside your chest, your heart pounds against your ribcage. You keep glancing out the window, wondering if you’ll suddenly see Yoongi’s soft, sweet face. Kicking ice off her boots on the porch, your mother opens the door as she talks on, breezing in and to the side to take off her boots.

You step in awkwardly. Unfamiliar.

Everything in your view is the exact way you remember it, except suddenly… None of this feels like yours. Or like anything that has ever belonged to you. To your right, there is an open doorway that leads to the study – or the computer room as your dad chronically called it. It’s dark inside but you can see the indents on the carpet from the faded office chair, and the power-down Dell on the desk with multiple broken drawers.

On the right is a cubby where you can kick your shoes off and hang your bag. You follow your mother’s example and take off your boots, feeling in a daze as your eyes drift down the hall. There’s a set of stairs that lead to the second floor just beyond the door to the computer room, and the living room and kitchen open up at the end of the hall.

Christmas music and the smell of cinnamon float down. There’s a lump in your throat as your mom walks toward the living room – and ultimately where the kitchen is. And Yoongi. Who is apparently hammering at something loudly, from the sounds of all the banging that drowns out the sound of Michael Bublé.

“I’m gonna lay down,” you blurt before your mom can enter Yoongi’s line of vision. You’re frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, heart hammering. “The plane ride really exhausted me and I have a bit of a headache. Yoongi’s banging will make it worse.”

She frowns. “Well at least come to say hello.”

“I’ll see him later,” you assure her, moving toward the hardwood stairs and bending to pull up your bag. “It’s a small town, no big deal. Tell him I said hello.”

You’re halfway up the stairs when your mother says your name, irritation evident. You don’t respond, jogging the rest of the way. The bottom of your bag clips one of the stairs, making you stumble. You curse and recover before rushing down the right side of the hall, past the pictures on the wall and your open bathroom with the mermaid curtains straight into your room where you slam the door.

Leaning against it, you close your eyes and take a few breaths. In and out. In and out. Downstairs, the hammering pauses. You assume your mother is talking to Yoongi. Guilt eats away at you like a worm to an apple. You shove it down and walk into your room proper, trying not to think about how you want to avoid the man downstairs at all costs.

Collapsing on your bed, you flinch and grab the mattress, forgetting how springy it is as they twang under the sudden weight. Your room is exactly how you left it. Aquamarine walls, a sea turtle lamp, a horrible collection of Justin Bieber memorabilia including a lunch box you can’t ever remember using, and an old box TV with a tiny DVD player.

A broken lava lamp stands frozen in time on the white, paint-chipped dresser. You wonder if it even turns on anymore. The rolling closet door is open, empty save for extra sheets and towels and a couple of Vera Bradley duffle bags your mom never tossed out.

Everything is the same and yet… you have never felt more like a stranger in your own home.

Pulling the scale pattern quilt from under you to wrap yourself in, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, although the hammering downstairs starts once again.

A knock on the door and your mom’s voice telling you to come eat dinner pries you from sleep. Your limbs feel heavy and your back and neck ache with the unfamiliarity of the springy bed. Your thoughts are honey-thick as you try to remember that you’re not in your apartment – your old apartment that is no longer yours – and that your ex is not with you.

Mouth dry and limbs sluggish, you manage to trek down the stairs, footsteps heavy and awkward. There's still Christmas music playing somewhere in the living room, but it’s at a manageable volume now. You try not to think about it too much, finding Christmas music particularly grating this year.

The smell of dinner drifts from the kitchen and your stomach growls viciously, reminding you that you only had cheese and crackers for lunch. You rub your eyes, entering the open concept area with the kitchen facing the living room and the dining room tucked on the side of the kitchen against the glass-paned windows that look out into the yard.

Your mom sets something on the table and straightens, gesturing to something on the island countertop as she says, “Will you bring those potatoes over, Yoongi? I keep forgetting them on the counter.”

Two things happen at once.

The first thing that happens is the slow-blink turning of your head, suddenly aware that a man is standing in your kitchen looking at you. Your feet glue themselves to the floor and your mouth parts a little in surprise and confusion that there is another human being in your house outside of you and your mother.

The second thing that happens is the surge of panic and curiosity slamming into one another, two rogue waves at war as they unsteady the sleeping waters of your mind post-nap. You feel the urge to turn on your heel and run back up the stairs, but you’re stuck staring at Yoongi, both terrified to see him and... well you haven’t seen him in a while. You’re curious.

Yoongi’s hair is blonde - a color he hasn’t had in years - with silky lowlights that look really good on him. Though most of it is tucked behind delicate, round ears that are decorated with his signature silver hoops, a few rogue strands fall endearingly over soft cat eyes. He’s broad in the shoulders, the material of his shirt pulled taught over the hint of biceps.

And Yoongi’s face – devastating as always. You always thought that he looked like a child of the moon goddess, smooth, milky skin with a rose-flushed mouth. His mouth as always looks soft, and as it breaks into a smile now when he sees you, it feels like the entire world might spin out of control.

“Have a good nap?” Yoongi questions. His voice is so much deeper, raspy, and soft, and nothing at all like what you remember. But it’s been how long since you’ve seen him? At least four years. Maybe five.

“Huh?” you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, your brain unable to connect the dots and form anything else.

Yoongi chuckles and ducks his head a bit, pink in the cheeks. He picks up the glass dish of potatoes that your mother asked for, rounding the island and putting it on the dining room table. He moves in your childhood home with ease, returning to the kitchen and popping up a drawer for a serving spoon.

“Jet lag, much?” that teasing tone of his is still there and you suddenly remember being in the ninth grade, hiding your face in your hands because he was poking fun at you for something innocent. “I don’t bite.”

“Why are you here?” Again, you’re unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth. This time, however, you have enough sense to realize how rude it sounds. Swallowing past the rapidly forming knot of anxiety, you move toward the table. “You don’t have a headache from all that hammering you’ve been doing?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits down at the table across from where your mother has seated herself, pouring a glass of red for herself. “You seem to have slept through it fine.”

“Yeah, well.” You sit down next to your mom, suddenly feeling defensive. “A five-hour flight will do that to you.”

Yoongi hums, agreeing as he glances up at you again. You’ve had dreams about those damn eyes, written about them in childhood diaries. Wondered about them late at night, when your ex was fast asleep next to you.

Thoughts and memories of Min Yoongi paint several parts of your life. Childhood crush. Close friend. The subject of your dreamy sighs. The crush had worn off around college, but there was always that something when you looked at him. Perhaps the acknowledgment that he was impossibly beautiful and charming.

Or maybe the inescapable fact that you might always harbor something extra for him.

Averting your gaze, you clear your throat and grab the bottle of wine from your mom, pouring a healthy amount. “Why are you ripping out the cabinets anyway?”

“There was mold in the back of them.” He accepts a plate of meat from your mother. “I came over to help your mom pull down that bone china she keeps hidden away and found it.”

You glance at your mom. “You couldn’t use a ladder?”

“You try having old hips,” she huffs. “Yoongi isn’t that far. He’s a doll and he’s always a phone call away.”

There is nothing wrong with Yoongi helping your aging mom. At least, that is what you tell yourself as she asks Yoongi about a TV show both of them have been watching. You fill your plate and listen to them, hovering on the edge of a conversation you can’t contribute to.

“And then she had the nerve to act like she was holier than thou,” your mother agrees, shaking her head. “The Greens are going to get theirs, now that Alicent was exposed for a snake.”

Yoongi snorts. “I don’t know, no one ever gets punished the way we want on that show.”

“Who is Alicent?” you ask, dubious.

Both of them look at you. Your mom waves you off with a roll of her eyes at Yoongi. “She doesn’t watch TV. I’ve been begging her to watch for weeks now. Thankfully you caved in.”

“I just don’t have time for TV.”

Your mom pats your hand delicately. It doesn’t feel comforting like it should. “I know. Thankfully I can gossip about it with Yoongi.”

They seem comfortable. Your mom laughs as Yoongi rants about some character arch you have never heard of. You watch as your mom cuts into her steak alongside him, handing him sauce for his diced pieces. He thanks her easily, not missing a beat as he uncaps it.

Suddenly, you feel like a stranger in your own house. All this time you’ve been living on the other side of the country, Yoongi has been here doing... whatever it is that he does. Making himself comfortable in your home. Filling a space for you. And now that you’re here, it’s like you don’t exist.

No one asks you how you’ve been. No one asks for a single detail about your life. Whether it’s out of pity because they know you’ve been left out in the cold with no home, no fiance, and leave from work because... well they felt bad that you were cheated on and booted from your apartment.

It's like you don’t exist anywhere. You don’t exist in your mom’s life. You don’t exist in Yoongi’s.

And it drives you mad.

You get up abruptly from the table, startling both of them. “I’m feeling ill,” you mutter tightly. You’re moving away from the table as your mother sputters, surprised. “I’ll try to eat later, I’m going to lie down.”

“Do you need help up the stairs?”

Yoongi’s question and concern seem genuine. It makes the sudden gnawing feeling inside of you even worse. “No,” you snap. “Enjoy your dinner and conversation.”

They both call after you as you turn and hightail it out of the kitchen and toward the steps. Everything feels blurry and the tightening of your threat is the only warning of sudden tears. It feels silly and pathetic, to suddenly be worked up into a frenzy over – well you’re not really sure over what. But it doesn’t sting any less, whatever this sense of feeling left out is.

Crawling into your bed, you pull the covers over your head just like you used to when you lived here last. The tears burn hot down your face and you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, as though you can grind the tear ducts to dust.

You hate being home. You hate that it doesn’t feel like home. But most of all, you hate that at the height of your misery and embarrassing life, Min Yoongi now has front row tickets.

Somehow, you manage to sleep.

The sound of thunder wakes you up in the morning. No, it’s not thunder. Thunder comes and goes in slow rolls of sound, fading, and building in a gentle percussion. This is the constant booming of something bang bang banging in a repetitive pattern.

Irritation drags you from sleep. You peel the covers from over your face, blinking and groaning in the morning light that filters through the curtain. Crust forms in the corner of your eye. You rub furiously until you see colors explode behind your lids.

Blinking until your room swims into view, you stare up at the ceiling a little longer until you remember that you’re in your childhood room. And that the loud banging sound coming from downstairs is probably Yoongi.

The sticky, nasty feeling from last night curls inside of you again. Less potent, but still there. Looking back on it, you feel a little dramatic. Watching Yoongi and your mom exist in a space so easily without you while you were there triggered a sliver of guilt you had been nursing since you decided to move home.

Even now, you ignore the feeling as you slip down the stairs and toward the kitchen. The hunger is demanding and ever-present, and though you’re unsure you want to face Yoongi again after last night, you can’t ignore the dizziness from lack of food.

Sunlight filters in through the kitchen window. Dust motes float in the air, suspended in gold light. There are pieces of wood and metal piles of hinges and knobs, screws rolling across the counter, and plastic-wrapped pieces of hinges and bolts, but it’s still your kitchen.

There’s still white backsplash against the sink with a yellow duck soap dispenser. There’s a black fridge with chip-clip magnets holding up pictures of your family, your graduation photos, and drawings that you created as a child. The island countertop is buried in Yoongi’s supplies, but you imagine that if it weren’t, there’d be fake fruit in a basket with mugs full of tea gone cold.

Today, Yoongi is in a black, oversized t-shirt, and a beanie. There’s a small speaker next to him, Michael Bublé singing clearly through the kitchen as Yoongi slides a shelf into one of the newly constructed cabinets.

“You really like Bublé.”

Yoongi flinches, turning around to see you hovering and hesitating near the kitchen counter. He grins a little, wiping his hands on his pants. His blonde hair just barely peaks out from underneath the beanie and his face is flushed red as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on the counter. There are dark circles under his eyes, but he otherwise looks beautiful first thing in the morning.

“I like Christmas music,” he offers with a shrug. “Tis the season.”

“Hmm.” Your eyes scan the kitchen. “Is there a way to make coffee in this mess?”

He nodes and moves a cabinet, revealing the coffee maker. “Ta-da.” You huff once in laughter before going to your fridge in search of creamer. You sense Yoongi’s dark gaze on you as you do. “How are you feeling?”

“Hmm?”

“From last night? Feeling better?”

“Oh.” You shut the fridge and avoid his gaze. “Yeah.”

He hums. You flick the lid on the coffee and pause, looking around the kitchen for one of the pods to make the coffee. Yoongi leans over with a chuckle and pulls open a drawer, revealing rows of neatly placed Keurig cups.

“Thanks,” you say flatly.

“Mhmm.” You pop it in and turn the machine on. “How long is your cabinet project going to take?”

“I’ll be finished by tomorrow. Why? Want me gone that bad?”

“You’re loud.”

“Comes with the nature of the job. Sorry, usually no one is here in the morning. Your mom is at the park.”

“Since when does she go on walks?”

He shrugs, dubious of your confusion. “She always goes on walks. Jeez, you have been gone a long time.”

“So what?” You snap, arms crossed. “You know everything about my mom now?”

“I spend a lot of time with her. I help her around the house and she brings me lunch and makes dinner sometimes. I keep her company.”

Tension creeps into your shoulders and neck. Pressing your mouth into a firm line, you turn your back to him, unable to make eye contact as the little sliver of guilt in you strikes at him, viper quick. “Cause I wasn’t here to do it, right?”

“That isn’t at all what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Your name leaves his mouth with a sigh. “Have I done something to upset you? You haven’t seemed keen on me being here since last night. I was excited to see you after all this time and catch up.”

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“I mean it’s been five years-”

“Sorry I left town because I had a life. I get it, I left home and left my parents here and my mom has been lonely since my dad passed. You’re a knight in shining armor, I get it.”

“What?” You ignore looking at him, despite shuffling closer to you as you pour creamer into your coffee. You feel a nasty tension in your throat. Somewhere, you know that you’ve launched a hate campaign against Yoongi within twenty-four hours of being home. And yet you don’t look at him. “I - wow. Okay, I didn’t think that of you at all. We seem to be on wildly different pages, why would I ever think that?”

Before you can answer, the front door opens and closes. Your mom's arrival has you slithering toward the kitchen’s exit, throwing Yoongi a glance. His frown is deep and genuine concern flickers in his eyes. “I don’t think that,” Yoongi ventures again, trying to keep you in the conversation. “I think a lot of things about you, but that isn’t one. This conversation has really gotten away from me, can we start over?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter. “Sorry for assuming.”

Your mom waves, shrugging off ice-covered boots and a jacket at the door. You wave and rush out that you’re going up for a shower to wash off the airport funk. She waves you off and grins, heading down the hall and launching into a conversation with Yoongi.

A nasty feeling trails you up the steps. You don’t even make it to the top of the stairs before you already know you’ve been irrational, emotional, and completely out of line. But seeing Yoongi after all this time, seeing the way he’s there for your mom in ways you aren’t, and nursing wounds of moving home against your will and plans… it’s a lot to swallow.

In your room, you sit on the bed with your coffee on the nightstand, head dropped into your hands as you cry. It’s been coming all night. It’s been coming since you caught your ex in the apartment with another person. It’s been coming since you were no longer what they wanted in mind, body, and soul. It had been coming since you were asked to leave the apartments because you had moved in - not the other way around.

The pain festering inside of you for the last two and a half weeks isn’t Yoongi’s fault. In fact, part of you is surprised that your grief and guilt at dedicating the last five years to someone who you didn’t even like that much and who has now cheated on you has surfaced in the face of Min Yoongi.

It isn’t his fault that you rarely came home to start. It isn’t his fault that after Christmas two years ago, you didn’t want to come home at all. Didn’t want to be in a home without your dad. Didn’t want to be in a home that wasn’t in your new city, away from old failures, away from old hurts. Didn’t want to be in a home down the street from the Mins.

“Jeez,” you laugh at yourself, no mirth evident. “What better way to kick off seeing Yoongi again?”

Yoongi finishes the cabinets the next day and you manage to avoid seeing him again, unsure how to fix the weirdness.

A few days later, you come down to see your mom on the couch, tucked into a flannel-patterned blanket, and watching Hallmark movies. You cringe at the thought of poorly budgeted, badly scripted movies. Your mom, however, has always loved them. And your dad always watched them with her.

Something softens inside of you. You can’t remember the last time your ex willingly watched anything they were uninterested in for your sake. Perhaps because they had long been fucking someone else.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you trail to your mom, slipping wordlessly onto the couch and pulling an extra blanket over your legging and socks. Your mom shoots you a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the edges. She reaches over, patting your hand and squeezing it before settling in, keeping her hand on yours.

Though you turn to the TV, your eyes sting as you try to focus on the plot of a newly single woman who has moved back to her sleepy hometown during the holidays. Naturally, there is a storied past with the beautiful but sensitive male lead who owns a failing bookshop. It’s unsurprising when the female lead takes a job there unwillingly, and you watch

“These are very cheesy,” you observe, watching as the two leads fall in love over clumsily spilled coffees, one full of Christmas cheer and one that hates Christmas. “Why do you like them so much?”

Your mom shrugs. “They always have a happy ending, they’re easy to follow along, and they fuel that little hope that the holidays have something a little special.” She looks at you when you grunt and she sighs. “I know you haven’t had very good holidays the last few years. But you used to really enjoy them.”

“They’re just… too much. It’s just another day.”

“Hmm. They mean a lot to some people, though. Take Yoongi for example - he’s doing extra work at the shop selling wares, making pieces for Christmas, and trying to finish making toys for the children’s home this year. He hardly sleeps.”

You think about the dark circles under Yoongi’s eyes that morning. “That’s a lot.”

“He could use the help.” She glances at you from the corner of her eye. “You know where the shop is.”

“Yeah.”

Morning fades into afternoon. You find yourself shaking your head around a mouthful of a sandwich with crunchy chips in the middle as your mom settles next to you, placing a glass of iced tea on the table. Your legs are crossed and you lean forward to press greasy, chip fingers into the paper towel you’re using as a napkin.

“She is so stupid if she doesn’t believe him,” you mumble around your mouth full of food. “Like hello? He has no reason to lie to her.”

Your mom's laughter fills the room and she shrugs. Somehow, you’re on your third Hallmark movie, and you haven’t managed to move or do anything productive with your day, like unpacking your bags or looking at the computer room full of the shit that the movers delivered to your mother’s house now that you don’t have a house.

“If she believed him,” your mom says with a sip of tea, “Then there wouldn’t be any drama. And without drama, there would be no movie.”

“Ugh, all of these movies are the same.”

And yet you make no move to turn it off or leave.

When you finish your sandwich and settle back, full and bloated, you realize that you’re rather enjoying just a day watching cheesy movies with your mom. Even if they hit a little close to home on the narrative of your current situation.

But no - you’re different. Your life is real, and you’re stuck without a home and without a place to go. Clenching your jaw, you force the memories and the words to leave. You don’t want to think about the way your ex gently asked if you had somewhere else to go. You don’t want to think about the words I’m sorry. I love you but I’m not in love with you anymore.

I mean, you weren’t either but… marriage still seemed like an okay option. A good social move. Something you’d be content with, even if you weren’t head over heels in love.

“Here,” you hold your hand to her for her empty plates. “I’ll do the dishes.”

Getting away from the TV gives you a second to breathe. The rush of the faucet drowns out the sound of the TV, warm water rushing over your fingers as you run the plates underwater.

Outside, the world is a blanket of snow. You can see Mr. Park across the street shoveling the drive as his wife gets into the car, the taillights kicking on. The grass is frozen, a sea of ice and frozen Christmas decorations.

In the drive, your car is parked next to your mom’s sedan. She hadn’t mentioned that it was delivered, but you don’t know where you would go anyway. You don’t really have any friends to visit. At least, not anyone you’ve kept in touch with enough to call up and go to lunch.

The absence of Yoongi’s truck reminds you that he had been working on the cabinets, drawing your eyes to his craftsmanship as you flip the sink off. With dried hands, you brush your fingers over the lightly stained wood. It’s smooth and cool to the touch, the curves and indents artfully done.

Yoongi had always been an exceptional artist. His passion has been in buildings and even interior design, but you’re not surprised to see that he’s as easily a handyman and woodworker as he is anything else.

You think back to what your mom said about him, alone for the holidays and working hard. A sour taste sits heavy on your tongue as you think about your barbed words.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you lean against the counter and pull your phone out, flipping through social media until you find his page. There isn’t much in the way of family and friends, but there are plenty of photos of new projects and a beautiful black cat.

I was excited to see you after all this time and catch up.

Heaving a sigh, you push off the counter and announce that you’re going to get dressed to run a few places, telling your mom to make you a list if she needs anything.

Getting dressed is harder than you expect. The urge to crawl back into bed and go to sleep almost wins out, but you somehow manage to pull on the jeans and thick sweater, followed by a scarf and jacket.

There is something empty and strange about the motions. It feels like you’ve forgotten the movement, the slide of clothes foreign to your skin. After two weeks of making phone calls and arrangements for an over-priced hotel bed, you supposed you haven’t gotten dressed much recently.

Picking up the list from your mom and giving her a kiss, you’re out of the door, glancing down at her slanted script. You huff, laughter cut short by the bite of cold wind. Of course everything she needs is from Min’s Hardware, though you had been planning to go by there anyway.

With a deep breath and squared shoulders, you get in the car and think about how the hell to apologize to Yoongi.

Min’s Hardware had its first building expansion when you were in tenth grade. You remember how excited you were when Yoongi told you that his parents bought out the recently emptied arcade next door to add a lumber department. Even in tenth grade, Yoongi had sketched out aisles and systems for the store, layout after layout of the most functional way to accommodate the expansion.

Before opening day, the two of you and some other kids in the neighborhood had run through the aisles, the smell of cedar and pine and fresh sawdust so wonderfully potent it made you dizzy. Yoongi specifically had shown you the different types of wood and pliability, explaining what he would use each for.

By then, it was summer heading into eleventh grade and he had already decided he wanted to be an architect. He had insane drawings for new shopping centers the next city over, and wild renderings of his dream buildings full of avant-garde but functional structures.

From the parking lot, you can see that Yoongi still occupies the same two spaces Min’s has stood in since tenth grade. Except now it shares a parking lot with a Starbucks and Chipotle building, melded together. The line for coffee snakes around the building into the empty parking lot in front of Min’s, a mismatched creature of metal and purring engines.

Icy ground makes you slip a bit before you steady yourself on the door handle, gasp stuck in your chest before you can breathe out slowly, confident that you won’t slide and bust your ass.

From the outside, Min’s looks both the same and different. There is a new sign above the store, now with its own light humming in the dark, gray winter sky. Tinted windows prevent you from seeing inside entirely, but you can see the faint outline of racks as you approach.

Standing in front of the double doors, you suddenly feel the urge to spin on your heel and run in the other direction. If the inside still looks the same, though, the counter is right next to the door, which means if Yoongi is there, he can see you.

Standing. Staring. Looking at the cold, metal handle of the door and not doing anything.

“Rip the bandaid off,” you mutter to yourself.

Yanking the door open startles you, the bell on the door chiming wildly with the force of your pull. It’s the same bell that was here when you were a teen, and a tingle slithers down your back at the memory.

It's warm. The smell of mixed wood hits you, soothing and fresh. To your left is a counter with an elderly gentleman reading a book. He looks up behind the POS system, grinning at you. He’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with a festive sweater to match the Christmas soundtrack playing over the speakers.

Your eyes flicker to his badge and you fold your lips to stop the giggle that threatens to escape when you look at his name tag: Elf Ian.

“Good afternoon, miss!” he greets, shuffling behind the counter. There’s no one else in the store as you crane your head away from the register, looking at the rows and rows of hardware and things for sale. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Yoongi?”

“Mr. Min is back in the carpentry section. I can take you there.”

You wave him off with a smile. “No, that's okay, I know the way.”

“Really? You’ve been here before? You look like a new face.”

“It’s been a while,” you admit, admiring the layout of the store, each of the towering metal shelves marked with aisle numbers and departments: electrical, flooring, lighting, hardware, paint, heating and cooling, and so on. It’s not as comprehensive as a Home Depot or a Lowe’s, but Min’s has everything that a small town needs. “Back and to the right?”

He nods with a smile.

The Rockettes play overhead as you wander toward the back of the store. You take the paint aisle, admiring all of the colorful paint swatch papers. Your shoes scuff on the floor, speckled with some paint splatter near the spray section as though some kids got into the supply.

You distinctly remember Yoongi accidentally spraying a bright pink into the air once.

All of the pricing is written in neat, slanted handwriting on thick brown pieces of paper. You pause at the end of an aisle, reaching out to press a finger against one to trace the letters. You recognize the font from years worth of scribbled and pressed flat architecture designs.

The carpentry section has rows and rows of wood of different shapes, sizes, and variety. Behind all of that is a sizable desk for specialty services, and you know that the door leads to a room that houses Yoongi’s woodworking shop. It had once been the bowling alley section of the arcade before Old Man Min bought out the unit.

No one mans the tall, L-shaped desk. There are several binders with types of wood, types of stains, project ideas, samples, and frames. You smile when you see some you recognize, the peeling plastic of the front evidence of old age.

A large counter behind the desk has a few wrapped items that Yoongi must have to be shipped or picked up. There’s a cup of coffee that looks like it’s gone cold, a jar full of wrapped mints for the taking, and a small button that says ‘push for service’ next to the POS system.

Swallowing thickly, you press the button. An automated chime echoes from behind the wooden swing door that leads to the woodshop. Before Yoongi took over, his father used to make furniture, fill custom orders and make repairs. It’s no surprise that Yoongi has opted to take over this portion, especially if he’s making custom orders for the children’s home.

The door swings open, breaking your trance. Yoongi pulls up short, eyebrows raise as he wipes sawdust from his apron. He’s in a sweater and jeans today, the sleeves pushed up to his elbow to help him work and his blonde hair shaggy and a little unruly. The pink sheen on his cheeks and nose is all you need to know he had been working pretty hard.

“Hi,” he offers tentatively, looking you up and down. You hate that he looks so guarded. “Coming to custom order a rocking horse?”

You grin. “Actually I was wondering if you did chairs?”

“Hmmm.” He shuffles toward the counter, dropping his hesitance as he leans on his elbows, a sideways smirk on his face. Despite everything, it makes your stomach flip. “We do all kinds of chairs. Rocking, dining, bar stools, even church pews.”

“Wow, Min’s really is the best and where expectations are beyond the Minimum.”

Yoongi groans and covers his face with his hands, flushed pink as you laugh at him. “That’s not even our jingle anymore, okay? I was a kid when I came up with it.”

“I thought it was cute!”

“Yeah, you thought Jackson was cute in the fifth grade too.”

“Isn’t he on his third kid?”

Yoongi gives a loud laugh. “Sixth, Miss I Failed Algebra Twice. He and Jiah have their hands full, I just dropped off a new crib yesterday.”

You whistle, crossing your arms over your chest. Yoongi looks at you, eyes glittering as he smiles. It does something to you, to see your childhood crush here and happy. It’s at such odds with where you are in your life that you don’t know what to make of it. Even Jackson is married and happy with kids.

“Impressive. You do a lot.”

He hums in agreement and stands up to stretch. “Holidays are always a demand. I’m just trying to keep up to make everyone’s Christmas magical.” You scrunch your nose at that and he frowns. “What?”

“Why does Christmas have to be extra special? It’s just another day.”

He beckons you to come around the counter and to the back as he turns to head for the swinging door. “Come on, Scrooge. Let me spread the magic of Christmas and lead you on your journey to redemption.”

Ignoring the ‘employees only’ sign on the waist-tall swing door that leads to behind the counter, you scoff and roll your eyes. Yoongi stands in the doorway leading to the back, propping it open with a foot for you. As you pass him, the bright light of his shop and the smell of wood stain and chemicals hits you instantly.

“What do I need to redeem myself for?”

He lets the door swing shut and follows you in, taking the lead as he heads towards a table filled with goods. “For whatever you feel like you need it for.”

Yoongi’s words feel ominous and tug at your heartstrings. You suppose you do feel the need to make up for picking a fight with him. Which is why you ended up here in the first place, despite your mother’s list.

The shop is a little different than you remember it, but some things are the same. There are giant slabs of wood to choose from in neat shelving, massive wood-cutting machines and saws with warning labels and plastic cards over serrated metal, tubs of chemicals to cleanse wood and shelves of bottles of different liquids for all of Yoongi’s processes.

At a young age, you were never allowed back in the woodshop. The first day Old Man Min had finally let you come around the corner was just as magical as it feels now. It’s large and daunting, with all of the unfamiliar machinery and the loud hum of an air compressor near the back of the shop.

A wireless speaker stands on a cluttered counter, blaring holiday tunes over the whine of the compressor until the machine kicks off and it’s just the echo of Grandma Got Ran Over by A Reindeer.

“It’s weird being back here again,” you murmur, eyes sweeping the toys and pieces of furniture Yoongi has on a table with a laminated sign: children’s home. “You’re really making all of this yourself?”

“Mhmm.” He leans against the table, crossing his arms. “Someone has to. They needed extra toys this year but specifically, some serious upgrades to the rooms of the residents. I’m doing what I can, free of charge, of course.”

“You’re a saint.”

He puts his hands together in mock prayer and bats his eyes before you break out into laughter. He shrugs and murmurs, “Just someone who wants to help. They deserve good furniture year-round, but especially on the holidays.”

“Since when do you like the holidays so much?”

“Since I’ve started spending them alone.”

The answer hits you in the gut. Hard. You stop admiring the shop to look at Yoongi. There’s a soft openness to his face that unnerves you. Brutal honesty offered in exchange for nothing. No expectation for you to share, but proof that he has enough trust for you - however unearned - to just admit what he feels out loud.

That kind of introspection and understanding of self terrifies you. So instead of sharing something of yourself or offering a gentle word to communicate that you get it, or you’re sorry, you gesture to the table where he has carving knives and pieces of wood. “What are you working on?”

If your shift in conversation bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Yoongi rolls with your stilted punches, turning and walking to the table. “Working on carving some designs into the drawer faces for these nightstands I made.”

“They’re beautiful.”

And they are. Flowers and vines curl on the edges of the wood, perfectly placed in the four corners of the slab. You reach out a hand and hesitate, looking at him to ask permission. He nods and you press your fingers along the grooves he’s carved, following the rough cuts, careful not to get a splinter.

“You’re still artistic as hell.”

“Thanks. It’s hard on my hands and then I have to sand them all with paper to get into the small details which is hell.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. His words about redemption echo in your head: for whatever you feel like you need it for.

“Need help?” He looks at you, surprised by your offer. You’re a little surprised too, but the way that you snapped at Yoongi haunts you and there’s something… else that is gnawing at you and has been since you saw him in your kitchen that first night on your return. “I’m serious.”

“If you want to sand some of these down…”

You nod. “I think I remember how. Do you still keep the sandpaper in that Husky drawer?”

He gives you a crooked grin and nods. “Oooo she remembers. I’m honored.”

You feel warmth in your cheeks. “Tell me what needs to be sanded. I’ll do my best.”

With a smile larger than what you probably deserve, Yoongi quickly rehashes how to hold the sanding paper, the technique he wants you to use, and assigns you a pile of drawer faces. With your project in front of you, Yoongi goes back to his own thing, the steady hammer against his carving tools drowning out any thoughts swirling in your mind.

At first, it’s slow going. Your shoulders are tense and you keep glancing at Yoongi, a little nervous and wondering why you offered to help. It wasn’t what you had intended to do when you walked into the store, but it feels like the best way to say sorry.

It also means you don’t have to audibly admit that you were being weird and embarrassing with him in your kitchen.

Time passes and the tension in your shoulders begins to bleed out. The scritch scritch scritch of the sandpaper in your hands is soothing, the repetitive motions creating a soft buzz in your ears as you zone out on your task.

Focusing on small things has always been a good thing for you. Even when you were little, having something that you could throw yourself into and let your anxieties and thoughts drift away to somewhere far away where they could not hurt you was paramount.

Now, as the time passes without you noticing, thoughts of your cheating ex-fiance and old apartment melt away like ice on a snow drive. it’s just the pressure in your fingertips, manipulating the sandpaper into different folds to get into the creases of the design.

Yoongi’s presence stirs your stomach and heart as you look up. He looks over your shoulder at your work before leaning in close to pick up one of the slabs of wood. He’s removed his gloves and runs his fingers over the designs.

A shiver brushes up your spine as you zero in on Yoongi’s fingers. You have no idea if it’s your newly single status or the fact that it’s Yoongi that makes you stare open-mouthed and hypnotized. His fingers look a little callused from working wood, but you wonder how they’d feel if-

“Not bad,” he hums, giving you a grin before setting down the wood. “I’m pretty impressed. You haven’t lost your touch.”

“Please,” you mutter, looking down at the table and picking at splinters. “I helped you for hours when we were kids.”

“That’s cause I helped you with your math. It’s getting late and I’m a little tired. You hungry?”

You realize that you are. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you flip it over to see a few texts from your mom and realize that it’s almost seven at night. A sound of surprise escapes you and Yoongi laughs, tapping your elbow gently before walking away.

“Come on,” he insists. “We close early on Sundays. Help me turn all this shit off and close up and we can get food. My treat for helping out.”

“Yes to food, but you don’t have to-”

He waves you off. “Let me do something nice for you, yeah?”

Closing the store feels oddly familiar. While you have never watched Yoongi do it as the owner and operator, there were times as a kid when you finished your homework at the woodshop counter with Yoongi while you waited for his dad to get off and take you home after school.

The Min’s don’t live far from your home and based on your mom calling Yoongi for every little thing, you assume that he lives in his childhood home now that his dad is in a home for elders.

Outside, the world is winter-dark and bitter cold. it’s not snowing, but it’s that dreary in-between that makes everything feel heavy and cold-wet. Yoongi shuffles you toward his truck, both of you shivering and cursing as you slide into the cab and he turns it on, cranking the heat and turning on the seat warmers.

“Nice truck,” you comment. And it is nice. “New?”

“New-ish. Being the owner of Min’s Hardware really has its perks.”

You hum. “So you do own it? Just you?”

He nods, putting the car in drive and heading toward an unknown destination. Yoongi keeps his dark eyes on the road as he says, “Bought it from the Old Man when he decided to go into a senior living facility. He’s up at Retger’s - he loves it - but he wanted to put everything in my name before his mind started slipping.”

“I see.” You pick at the hem of your jacket, something heavy settling in your stomach. “How is he?”

“Happy. They have a great staff and a lot for him to do. His memory is on the downside of things. He always remembers me but he gets confused about his days and when I last saw him or what we talked about.”

“Is that hard?”

You almost kick yourself for the question. It slips out before you can ask, and you think of course it’s fucking hard. It’s his dad.

“It is,” Yoongi admits with a drawn-out sigh. Dead air hangs between the two of you as he navigates the backroads of your home, little streets and turns stitching into your very being. “Not sure what’s worse, though,” he adds, glancing at you. “Knowing that the days are numbered and being able to prepare, or losing him suddenly.”

It’s like a constrictor squeezes your windpipe as you look out the window. You can’t see the stars through the tops of the trees, but you get a glimpse of a swollen moon for a second. It’s beautiful and bright, your new point of focus as you nod.

“I think we can agree that losing a parent is hard,” you offer. “Doesn’t matter how much notice you had.” You hesitate, then go for it. “I haven’t really figured out how to navigate life post-dad. It’s part of why I never come home. I think… I think my mom suffers from it a little.”

For a few moments, Yoongi is silent. You sink further into the seat. Though the admission weighs heavy on you, pressing you down down down into the leather seat, it also feels… good to admit it. Like running a burn under freezing cold water, the sting poignant but soothing at the same time.

“I think that it’s okay to have your own life.” His voice is very quiet and he looks at you sideways. “And that we all deal with grief in a manner of ways. No one begrudges you for it, least of all your mom. I think you should cut yourself some slack.”

“Hmm,” is your only reply.

Orange parking lot lights come into view. You chuckle a bit when Yoongi turns into Mars Diner. It’s something out of a Jetson’s episode, with large metal pieces like Saturn’s tilted rings arching over the building and a sun-bleached rocket blasting into the sky.

The lot is full and through frosted windows, you can make out shapes of people in booths. A few kids hang around outside, leaning against their cars and sitting on tailgates, breath misting in the cold.

Yoongi parks the truck and hops out. You’re quick to follow, shutting the door with a firm click and hiding your hands from the cold in your jacket pockets. The door opens and the bell dings, sound pouring out as a family deposits themself onto the sidewalk.

“Hey there Yoongi,” one of the men says, backing up to hold the door open as the two of you approach. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Scott, it’s going well. How are those new stairs treating you?”

“Sturdy as can be. Thanks again for swinging by to help out.” The man - Scott Ledgfield, you realize - looks at you and squints before he says, “Holy shit kiddo, I haven’t seen you since you were a teenager.”

You look at the town’s local pharmacist with a tight grin, immediately feeling the eyes of his family and friends turn on you, ears pricked by the sound of someone old-but-new returning to the neighborhood. You give a small wave to the people you know.

“Uh,” you stammer. “Just got back. It’s nice to see you, Mr. Ledgefield.”

Your mom’s friend opens his mouth to perhaps ask more but Yoongi shuffles you toward the door and throws a hand in a farewell wave. “Jin will kill us if we keep this damn door open.”

Just as you step into the restaurant in full, the door clanging shut behind you, a familiar voice hollers behind the counter. “Yoongi, don’t keep that damn door open!”

Inside the diner is exactly how you remember it. A round kitchen sits at the core of the building with two large serving windows facing the door. A full, 360-serving counter circles the kitchen with red vinyl stools in front of them, and booths with planet chandeliers over them are full of people looking over laminated menus.

At the helm of it all is Kim Seokjin standing at the register as he rips a receipt out of the machine, grinning as he hands it over to the woman he’s ringing out. There’s a chrome-color apron tied around his waist and he has a rocket ship name tag that says: Captain Kim.

“Wow,” you mutter as Yoongi waits patiently for the couple in front of him to pay. “Jin running this place with his parents now?”

“Mhmm. Kim Senior is in the back still making everything and his mom does all the billing and admin now. Jin does… well, what doesn’t he do?”

“Yes,” Seokjin agrees as the couple leaves and he leans on the counter, a plastic grin on his face. “What don’t I do?” His eyes slide to you. “Huh. I heard you were coming back to town and thought they were bullshitting me.”

“Who is they?”

He waves his hand, before telling another server to jump on the register before he opens a swinging piece of counter open with his hip. “You know, the collective they everyone uses when they’re referencing the entire town.”

“I see.”

Seokjin looks the same as he did in college - broad shoulders, narrow waist, beautiful face and dark eyes that shine with trouble or mirth, depending on who you ask. He gestures to you and Yoongi to follow and you do, heading to the back corner near a frosted window that still has plates and baskets on the table.

“How have you been?” Seokjin asks as he begins collecting the previous diners' things. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you back here.”

“I’m okay. I think it’s just temporary, I haven't worked it out yet.”

“Hmm, we always say it’s temporary and now look at us - Yoongi is running Min’s and I’m one burnt hash brown from being spatula’d by a customer.”

The vinyl covering sticks to your jeans as you try to slide. You’re forced to hop your way into the booth as Seokjin places the dirty plates and dishes on a round platter and grabs a bottle of cleaner from behind Yoongi’s side of the booth.

“Well,” you venture awkwardly. “There’s nothing wrong with being home, right?”

“No,” he agrees and gives you a look that you can’t read. “There’s not.”

Awkward silence hangs in the air at his tone. You chew on your lip and can’t help but feel like somehow you’ve offended him. You weren’t really friends with Seokjin growing up, but he was a friend of friends, and you knew him well enough to attend birthday parties growing up.

Now, you reach for a menu and busy yourself with it as Yoongi clears his throat and asks how business has been with the holiday only a few days away. Seokjin’s tone with you melts away as he answers Yoongi’s question, slinging a towel over his shoulder while chatting.

A girl who looks in her late teens comes over with an order sheet and pen, sending Seokjin back toward the register where someone has a gift card that no one knows how to ring up. He leaves with a roll of his eyes as the server takes your order before scurrying away.

“Don’t let Jin make you feel weird,” Yoongi says airly, looking over the menu. The dim light from Saturn and Uranus reflect in his dark eyes when you peek at him over your menu. “He thinks you have a chip on your shoulder.”

You smack the table with your menu. “Why on earth does he think that?”

“Have some respect for the decor. We’re not on earth, we’re in space.”

“Yoongi.”

“Look,” he sighs, putting his menu down. “When you graduated, you were very hellbent on letting everyone know that you didn’t want to come back. Then you got a very nice job in the city, and did just that and never turned back. Which is fine, I respect the hell out of you for it. But you didn’t talk to anyone, and now that you’re back under… whatever circumstances, you act like being here is going to hurt your reputation.”

“I’ve barely seen anyone while I’ve been here.”

“It’s… the posture and the way you look at everyone.” You frown and he grins, reaching over the table to poke the space between your eyebrows. “It’s that,” He insists. “You look at everyone with a very intense scowl and like you have better things to do. That’s all.”

“Do you think that?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

He looks up at you, expression soft. “I think a lot of things about you. Having a chip on your shoulder isn’t one of them.”

Before you can unravel the weight of his words and the rush of something you feel in response, the server returns with your glass of hard cider and Yoongi’s dark beer. You mull over his thoughts while he places his order and you rattle off your favorite, which you’re pleased to see is still on the menu.

Quiet settles over the booth as you sip your drink, averting your gaze. He thinks you have a chip on your shoulder.

When you think about it, you realize that you sort of do.

Back when you had graduated high school and went to college just an hour away, you swore you wouldn’t go back and take up a job just to stay close to family and what you always knew. Coming from a small town, you felt like you had yet to see the world or experience anything real.

Even in college, it always felt like you were too close. All the same kids you went to high school with became your apartment neighbors and your university classmates, and everyone went to the same parties and fucked the same people.

It was like watching high school repeat all over again. Bringing home drama from college to the holidays, and then hearing what so-and-so did while they were home from school.

The thought of ever coming back was suffocating. So you took the first job you found that felt like it was lightyears away, stuck right in the middle of corporate America in a screaming city that you could hardly sleep in for the first few months because you were overwhelmed and a little afraid.

City life had become addicting though, and seeing all your little hometown friends go back to mom-and-pop jobs while you climbed the corporate ladder, got engaged and sent really nice presents home as an apology for going to Aspen for Christmas instead of seeing your parents felt powerful and liberating.

And then your dad died on Christmas. While you were out with friends at a resort. That had been the first blow, the first reason to start thinking that the holidays weren’t for being cheerful, or for celebrating or for… anything, really.

With that mindset, you spent the next Christmas with your fiance tucked away in your apartment, just the two of you. It had been your anti-Christmas, doing everything that was the opposite. You watched horror movies and ate popsicles, you decorated your house for Halloween and Valentine's day, you did everything possible to forget that you weren’t home opening presents with your parents - no just your mom now - and it worked.

Now, you’re sitting in your hometown diner across the table from the one person who has always been the exception to the rule, with Christmas music blaring over the speakers and every person wishing you a happy holiday that walks by the table.

A pit opens up inside of your stomach as you stare at the bubbles rushing to the top of your cider. The same, nasty feeling that made you snap at Yoongi in the kitchen rises up instead of you, a hydra ready to grow more heads and become an untamable beast.

“Where did you wander off to?” Yoongi’s question startles you from your thoughts and you look up at him. “You were so caught up I thought you might make your cider explode like Professor X.”

You laugh, surprising yourself. “Did you just make an X-Men reference?”

“Yeah, I still like comics, okay?”

You hum. “I was thinking that…” You take a large swig of your cider to press the tightness in your throat back. “I was thinking that maybe I do have a chip on my shoulder. I just… the holidays honestly bring out the worst in me, and I think I was already sour about being home.”

Like your admission of guilt on the way over, you feel lighter admitting your thoughts to Yoongi. There’s a pause in the conversation as your server puts down a burger in front of him and your chicken sandwich in front of you.

“I think,” Yoongi says slowly as he pops a fry in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “That it’s really easy for the people here to write off anyone who dares to do a little bit better than what they grew up with. For people like Jin, he always knew he’d come back home. I think it’s equal parts jealousy and wanting respect.”

“I don’t mean to make anyone feel disrespected,” you murmur. “Honestly, my distaste for coming home is more to do with the time of year than anything.”

“How so?”

Between bites of your dinner, you tell Yoongi about how your holidays have been over the last few years. How you stopped going home for them because it felt suffocating to be in a house with parents who didn’t understand anything about your love for being somewhere far away. How you stopped going home because if you stayed away with your friends and coworkers, you didn’t have to see how much they missed you.

All this time, you’d been running from guilt. Especially after the passing of your father. Even the sound of holiday music and the pressure to make plans to visit and buy gifts for people you were now somewhat unfamiliar with was enough anxiety to make the thought of Christmas and all of its bullshit unbearable.

Once your dad died, the thought of the holiday season was even worse. It meant going home and crying on Christmas because it was just you and your mom. It meant getting thinking of your pity text messages instead of well wishes and happy holidays. It meant forgetting a pair of scissors to open gifts because that was your dad’s job, and it meant that there was an inescapable void in your home.

Yoongi settles against the booth, looking at you with sad eyes. But what’s more, there is empathy there. Understanding. You don’t feel pitied or judged by Yoongi and the relief that washes over you as you spill your guts out at your favorite dinner is overwhelming.

You get another round of cider and you tell him about your cheating ex. How you were kicked from the apartment that hadn’t been yours from the start. How it’s one more negative feeling associated with Christmas, and how it was forcing you to go back to a place you wanted to see least of all, during a time you hated. How you… didn’t even care so much that the relationship was over. That you were just angry about having to find somewhere else to live and a little embarrassed that everyone saw it coming but you.

Sipping his beer, Yoongi sighs. “I’m going to say something that I want you to consider, and not take personally.”

You push around a cold french fry on your plate. “No promises.”

His smile is fleeting. “The holidays didn’t steal these things from you.”

The words hang heavy in the air between the two of you.

Elsewhere, the music has turned down a bit. It’s getting later and the dinner rush has faded to a soft hum in the background. The bell on the door chimes less and there are more empty booths than there are full. Seokjin disappears to the back for a much-earned break.

It’s a simple concept that Yoongi has given you and yet you want to fight him on it.

The holidays didn’t steal these things from you. Well no, they hadn’t. But it seemed that your bad luck was recurring, cycling back at the same time every year. Doomed to make your dread stronger and stronger with each passing Christmas.

“That might be true,” you admit. “But it’s not like I’m the only person who hates the holidays. I mean, at least I have a reason and it’s not some sort of anti-corporate America speel.” He opens his mouth but you cut him off. “Which, by the way, is a very valid point. Hallmark makes all of its money on being a Christmas vampire feeding off the people like me who have trouble going home for the holidays. Except I reject it.”

“There is another alternative.”

“And what’s that?”

“Embrace that life fucking sucks but eventually we can figure it out. If we want to and if we have the means.”

“What if we don’t have the means?”

Yoongi gives you a severe look. “Does your insurance cover therapy?” You nod. “Good, you have the means. If healing from this anxiety and guilt is something you’re interested in. Come on, I want dessert.”

Later that night, when you have had an overwhelming amount of fudge and talked to Yoongi about anything and everything that doesn’t involve Christmas or any of the horrible feelings you’ve spilled to him all day long, you lay in bed flicking through your phone on one hand while you hold a thin, plastic card in another.

Squinting as the phone brightness increases when a new webpage is loaded, you manage to find what you’re looking for, typing in your insurance information and answering a few questions before you hit send.

Once done, you set the phone on the nightstand and settle in your bed, heart pounding as you stare up at the ceiling and wonder how fast you’ll hear back on a request for a therapy consultation.

All the while, Yoongi’s words circle round and round in your mind: Embrace the fact that life fucking sucks, but eventually we can figure it out.

You roll on your side and squeeze your eyes shut and dare to hope that maybe Yoongi is right.

A routine nestles its way into your life before you’re aware of it. You get up and go downstairs for breakfast.

Once in the dining room, you have breakfast with your mom, trying not to get queasy over the fact that your dad’s chair remains empty at the head of the table. Sometimes, Yoongi is there in the morning and has breakfast with the two of you. Those days are much easier to fill the silence.

After breakfast, you shower and pick through your belongings, trying to rearrange your old room and make it somewhat adaptable to the lifestyle you had at your apartment. Adjusting to the fact that your mom is up at six in the morning on the dot and is ready for lunch by eleven nearly drives you to the edge, but you manage.

Most days you find yourself wandering to the back of Min’s Hardware and asking if Yoongi needs help. He always seems surprised to see you back, no matter how many days in a row you find yourself there, chewing on the corner of your lip.

The silence that comes with helping Yoongi has become an addiction. You notice that he no longer plays Christmas music in the shop when you’re around, opting for just general pop. You’re both thankful and a little embarrassed, but you say nothing as he gives you projects to sand or stain.

When you’re both tired and your fingers are cramping and worse for wear, you break for lunch. Sometimes you go to your house where your mom has fixed you both a meal. Other times, you pop by the diner where Seokjin gives you lunch on the house.

Seokjin comes around, the more he sees you with Yoongi. You’re still a little extra nice around him, trying to prove that you don’t think you’re better than him. You just… don’t know how to be him. Don’t know how to settle into life like everyone else so easily has.

It’s two weeks in that Yoongi upends your carefully crafted routine by leaning against your workstation - you don’t know when it became yours - and says, “What are you doing for Christmas Eve? I know your mom is volunteering and she said you weren’t but I don’t want to assume you’re… not doing anything.”

Today, Yoongi is in a green sweater and jeans, the sleeves of his shirt wrapped around his hands as he works. His hair is unstyled, showing just how long it’s gotten. It’s darker at the root where his natural color grows in, but even so, he looks beautiful as ever. Unsettlingly beautiful. The kind that makes you a little shy when he puts his full attention on you these days, especially when he shows you how to do something by gently touching your elbow or your wrist.

“Ummm.” You race to think of a response, but the words are sticky in your brain with his proximity. Usually, he does his own things, but every time Yoongi comes close these days, your brain gets a little out of sorts. “I was going to do like my little anti-Christmas thing and watch Halloweentown, I guess.”

“Maybe one day I’ll join you on that. For now, I wanted to see if you wanted to um - join me.”

“Join you what?”

He presses his lips flat and raises his brow at the poorly articulated question. “For Christmas Eve. It isn’t very exciting or anything, but I usually have dinner at the home with my dad. They make a great honey ham and then Seokjin has a party at his house after everyone leaves their family dinners. Alcohol is encouraged.”

“Oh.” You blink once. Twice. “You want me to have dinner with you and your dad?”

Blossom-pink blush spreads over Yoongi’s cheek and nose. You chew your bottom lip as you watch him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he picks at stray splinters on the table. “I just thought maybe you didn’t want to be alone.”

Yoongi’s words from a few days ago echo in your mind when you asked when he started being such a fan of the holidays: when I started spending them alone.

The thought of spending time with Yoongi with his dad, tucked into a corner of an elderly home with cheesy holiday decorations and staff that talks too gently, and putting on a show for those who feel alone and sad is dizzying. It terrifies you. It makes you want to run.

Which is why you swallow past the stone in your throat and say, “Um. Sure. Yes. I would like to go with you.”

He bites his bottom lip, trying to fight a smile. You clench all over, seizing up at how cute he is when he does that. “Really?”

“Yeah, Min. Really.”

“Wow, you haven’t called me Min in… a min.”

“God that was so cheesy.”

“Mhmm. We’re closed tomorrow because I’m helping out at the children’s home but I’ll pick you up at five Saturday. They serve dinner really early there.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi grins, all gums and round cheeks and shining eyes and for a moment, you forget that you’re supposed to be heartbroken and sour and pitiful. His smile stops everything and you immediately want to say something clever to make him do it again.

Instead, you just nod awkwardly and say, “Okay.”

Piles and piles of clothes litter your floor as you yank on an oversized peacoat and rush to the bathroom to check your outfit. You’ve been through at least fifteen different combinations and messed up your neatly place hair, and you still are unsure what the fuck you’re supposed to wear to a Christmas Eve dinner at an elderly home with the Mins.

You are very out of your depth.

When your phone dings and you see that Yoongi has arrived to get you, you scream in frustration and decide that wide-leg jeans paired with black combat boots, a black turtleneck and an oversized coat will have to do. It’s something you would have worn back in the city, but you’re unsure if it’s a little too casual for this.

Outside, the wind snaps against your face, stinging your nose and lips. You fight the urge to lick your lips and remove the very faint, pink lip stain there as you rush to the truck where Yoongi waves enthusiastically.

Yoongi’s gummy grin warms you more than the heated interior of the cab when you jump into the passenger seat, shuffling the crinkling gift back in your lap as you shiver and stick your hands in front of the air vents to warm them.

“You look nice,” Yoongi says as a greeting, putting the truck in reverse and looking in his mirrors. “What’s the gift?”

“Um-” Embarrassment heats your cheeks immediately. “I uh, got your dad something? I felt sort of weird showing up without a gift. I don’t know. Is that stupid? I can leave it-”

Your name is soft on his lips as he pauses in the middle of the street to look at you. You stop your rambling, staring at him. His eyes are dark pools, glittering in the dying afternoon sun as he smiles at you. His hair is shaggy again today like he air-dried it and the tawny colored coat makes his hair even more vibrant.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Yoongi says gently, smiling. His lips look soft and pink today - well they always look like that, but you notice a little extra today. “That’s not stupid. It’s incredibly kind.”

“It’s - um - I know he used to really love reading all those mythology books and he was fond of the stuff with Odin and Thor? So I got him a Norse mythology one? It had a cool tree on it.”

For a few moments, Yoongi stares at you, unblinking. The truck is in drive, but he has his foot on the brake so it just sits in front of your house collecting little bits of snow. The weight of his gaze threatens to make you melt into the seat. You drop your gaze to the red and green package in your lap, trying to figure out how to explain that the idea was dumb.

“You are incredibly thoughtful.” Yoongi’s voice is so soft you’re almost sure you imagined him speaking at all. You glance up and he has a look you can’t unpack on his face, but it’s something like fondness, perhaps. “He will absolutely love that. I got him an Egyptian one.”

“Are you sure?”

Yoongi takes a hand off the wheel and reaches over the center console to squeeze your hand where it’s gripped tight on the present. His fingers are calloused and rough from the years in the shop, but his touch is soft. Reverent. Your hand feels like it’s tingling even after he lets go and says, “I promise. Thank you. It’ll mean a lot to him, but it means even more to me.”

Still a little nervous and dizzy from the simple touch of his hand, you nod.

Finally, Yoongi pulls into the road and starts driving, quiet as his eyes focus on navigating to the center of town. Music plays softly in the background and you glance out the slightly frosted window.

Outside, families unpack themselves from cars, hurrying in bundles of jackets and loaded with presents to the doorsteps that are cast open for other family members and friends to help them in. Your heart squeezes at the thought and you look away from all of the houses and lights, instead focusing on the lines painted on the road.

It feels like forever ago it was your family casting open your doors to house Christmas Eve with your extended family. But your uncle and his wife had long since moved away, and their kids had their own kids to celebrate with, and though the invitation was probably there for you and your mom to visit, it felt weird being with your dad's family when your dad was… not around.

“Dad may or may not remember you,” Yoongi hums as he drives. “I think he will because he’s good about people from the past, but he might not get your name right. I don’t correct him because it can confuse and frustrate him, so just go with whatever if you can.”

“Of course. I’ll just follow your lead.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he drives with one hand on the wheel, one hand hanging off the center console where he leans on his elbow. “He has a little trouble with train of thought, just let him get it out. He hates when you try and finish sentences for him.”

You smile. “He’s always hated that. You were the most impatient son ever.”

“Well, practice has made perfect. I’m a changed man.”

“Uh-huh.”

The home is covered in holiday decor as you expected. Cars line the lot of what would look like apartment buildings if the sign out front didn’t indicate that it was a senior living center. Honestly, they look better than most of the apartments you’ve had in the city, a single reminder that everything is so much more affordable when you step out of your self-made comfort zone.

Ice and snow crunch beneath your boots in the parking lot. The two of you hurry along, shivering and laughing in the cold. Yoongi surprises you when he pulls you in by the waist, pressing you to his side to walk in a quick, albeit warmer, huddle to the main building.

Warmth hits you in the face and melts back the cold as you step inside, a shiver racking up your spine. There’s a massive Christmas tree in the lobby with a ‘donated’ sign in the front thanking a local company for the tree, and there are hand-crafted ornaments that from another sign, inform you they were made by the children in the orphanage on the other side of town.

Christmas music tinkles lightly overhead as Yoongi leads you to a counter where a woman with a Christmas vest and a bright smile greets him enthusiastically. It’s obvious that she’s familiar with him as she rattles off how his dad has been doing, scribbling his name on a tag with a candy cane heart and handing it over to him.

Tag in hand, Yoongi awkwardly shuffles to the side to reveal you to the woman behind the desk, whose name tag says Esther. Her eyes go round and her mouth forms a small ‘o’ when she sees you, surprised that Yoongi has brought a guest. You hate to admit that you feel a little pleased if it’s not common for him to bring other people here.

Ignoring that, you give her your name and she hesitates, glancing at Yoongi. He nods his head with a tiny frown before she scribbles your name onto the tag and hands it over to you, an unreadable expression now on her face.

“Enjoy.”

Sticking the tag on your jacket, you glance at Yoongi as he leads the way toward the common room where they’re having dinner. “Well, I don’t think she likes me.”

He hums noncommittally and you say nothing more, following his twists and turns until you’re in a large common area nearly bursting at the seams with Feliz Navidad and tinsel. There are people of varying ages inside sitting around pop-up round tables and folding chairs. Red and green plastic table clothes cover the tables, little gift-wrapped boxes act as centerpieces. There’s another tree donated in the corner by Min’s, making you poke Yoongi’s side and gesture to the tree.

Shy, Yoongi shrugs and scurries away from you, spotting his dad sitting on a sectional looking up at the glittering tree. You hesitate to follow, a little lost as you watch Yoongi call his dad’s name gently, catching his attention. They look so much alike that it’s dizzying to watch as his dad stands up, bringing Yoongi into a tight hug.

You clench your jaw, willing the sudden burning in your eyes to go away. You feel your palms sweat and your throat constricts, making you look away from them as they hold each other by the shoulders, exchanging greetings that you can’t hear from the middle of the room.

All around you are people with their moms and dads. The room is crushed with holiday cheer, held hands, kisses on cheeks and tight hugs. You start to realize this was a terrible idea, excuses and ways to leave flipping through your mind like a Rolodex when Yoongi calls your name.

Turning to face them, you feel like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide, mouth agape, frame tense. Yoongi gives you a nod as he leads his dad to you. Old Man Min walks well enough, and is a little shorter than Yoongi with peppered hair, kind eyes and a knitted scarf that looks like something perhaps your mom made.

“You look just like your father!” His dad greets, throwing open his arms when he sees you. Your stomach drops to your ass at the declaration, but you force a smile, bending down a bit to hug him quickly. “I haven’t seen you since… I last saw you!”

That makes you laugh. “It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m just glad Yoongi finally brought you! I’ve been asking to see his girlfriend for two weeks!”

“Dad,” Yoongi admonishes giving you an apologetic look. “She’s… not.”

Old Man Min waves him off as he heads towards the serving line where there is an array of holiday-themed catered food. “I’m starving. I’ve been waiting here all damned afternoon!”

“Sorry,” Yoongi whispers as he goes by you, upping his pace to keep up with his dad who has his sights set on food. “He does remember you very well, by the way.”

Ignoring hot coal burning in the pit of your stomach at the comparison to your father, you shuffle in line behind Yoongi. All of the workers behind the table serving recognize him immediately, brightening and greeting him with dazzling smiles and heart eyes.

Next to him, you raise your brows and watch as he shyly interacts with them all, answering the same questions over and over and thanking them for putting on a wonderful dinner. They bask in the shower of his praise until he leans over to you and insists you get the mac and cheese. Yoongi doesn’t notice the shift, but you do, the staff immediately stiffens and goes quiet when they see you interact.

At a table tucked in the corner for just the three of you, you dig into your meal, answering all of Old Man Min’s questions he throws your way. They’re easy to answer: what do you do now, how is your mom, when did you come back. Some of the questions he repeats on accident or drifts off when asking, but you don’t mind, chewing around mac and cheese and waiting for him to get it out, or repeating your answer with the same vigor as before.

Yoongi seems nervous at first, neglecting his food to look back and forth between the two of you. You nudge him gently under the table and his dark eyes fall on you. You give him a face, trying to convey that you’re okay and he grins sheepishly, looking down at his meal and deciding it’s safe enough to start eating.

“So how did my son finally start dating you?” his dad demands, sipping his sweet tea. “I thought he would finally ask you out in high school and then… uh college, but he never did!”

“Dad,” Yoongi starts gently, but you’re quick to cut him off, touching Yoongi’s arm gently as you smile at his dad. “Recently,” you explain. You glance at Yoongi with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t know he had a crush on me in high school, though.”

“Ha! Of course he did! Why do you think he always wanted you over at the shop? Sure were over there than uh… what’s that girl's name? Jan’s daughter.”

“Jessa,” Yoongi offers softly, not meeting anyone’s eye as he becomes interested in pushing honeyed ham around his plate. “Dad you’re embarrassing me.”

“Yeah, Jenna! She was never at the shop nearly as much as you. Nice girl, not you though.” He stabs a piece of ham and shakes his head. “Always knew you’d be the one. Your dad and I were always sure of it.”

Yoongi tenses but you smile at Old Man Min. “Really?”

“Mhmm. Your dad was a hell of a guy! I remember back when we were in high school…”

Yoongi’s dad launches into a tale of when he and your father were kids and you’re shocked to discover that the unsettling feeling in your stomach starts to fade. You listen, chin in your palm and elbow propped on the table as you sip on cider to the adventures of your dad in his youth.

The wound stings a little but… it’s bearable. And it’s nice, to see Yoongi’s dad come alive and recall so many things from his own childhood. The color on Yoongi’s face and the way he keeps trying to hide his smile in the collar of his jacket says everything about how pleased he is to see his dad happy and healthy.

Almost without thinking, you reach over under the table and take Yoongi’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He looks up at you, brows raised. You can’t help but smile, really glad that he brought you here. Somehow, it is exactly what you needed.

Yoongi squeezes your hand back, making your heart pick up. As you start to pull away, he snatches your hand back, lacing your fingers and squeezing. You stare at him, surprised and flustered and feeling a little breathless as he settles in his chair, refusing to look at you as he holds your hand in his lap, engrossed in the tale his father is weaving.

With a nervous exhale, you lean back in your chair, content with the warmth of his hand and whatever the hell sparks with his touch.

Seokjin is very drunk and very happy to see you when he throws open the front door to his incredibly nice home in the new, gated community just beyond your old high school. The two-story home is full of warmth, people from your high school and college, and a lot of booze.

Immediately you’re uneasy, smiling awkwardly at the shocked faces of your old peers. Yoongi is heedless, though, keeping a hand on yours as he leads you through the party. You’re distracted by the firmness of his hold on you, the way it makes your head spin, the way that you don’t know what holding his hand means, but it’s nice.

And then you’re in the kitchen, pressed close to his side as you field questions from old friends that aren’t as much friends as they are nosy people from your past. No one asks about your handholding, but the way they glance down to where Yoongi has your fingers laced with his is enough to know it’s all anyone is going to talk about in whispered circles and for the next two weeks.

If Yoongi is bothered by this, he doesn’t show it. You however, are very in your head. The loose, happy feeling you had at dinner with his dad is replaced with stiff movements, quiet murmurs of hellos and asking how are you to people you don’t really care about, and cringing when a group of people pass by caroling room to room.

Yoongi senses the way you freeze up, the way you press yourself into the pantry as though you could melt into the wood and remain unseen. He tugs you toward a glass sliding door where there is a patio filled with smokers, all of them shivering and breathing smoke and steamed breath into the string lighting.

Going past them, Yoongi tugs you down into the back of the yard and to a gate. People whistle behind you and Yoongi throws a middle finger over his head, uncaring. He throws the latch and squeezes through the gate, so you follow.

Behind Seokjin’s house is a lake with a lit fountain, frozen and off for the winter season. He trudges toward it and sits down on damp grass, patting the spot next to him. Tentatively, you sit down and look over at him.

“Sorry.” His breath fogs in the cold. “I didn’t think about how shitty that might feel for you before inviting you.”

“It’s okay. I just… don’t really know how to answer their questions.”

“What do you mean?”

You pull at frozen grass to distract yourself from having to look at him. “I mean, I just broke up with my fiance a few weeks ago because I caught them cheating and now I show up to a party where everyone thinks I’m a stuck up holding your hand.”

“Not everyone thinks that.” You give him a look and he amends, “Okay, a lot of people do but not everyone.”

“Great.”

“If they saw you the way I do, they definitely wouldn’t think that.” You shoot him a questioning look as your heart beats a little bit faster. Your nerves start to tingle as you watch him figure out how to phrase what comes next. “You have no idea how nice it was to have you with me tonight. I’ve been doing that alone for years and I love spending time with my dad, but having someone else there to take the pressure off and to see him happy was… fuck it was really nice.”

The icy core around your heart that began to scrape itself together once you entered the party melts just a little bit. You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure what to say. Thankfully, Yoongi continues. “I know you don’t like the holidays because it reminds you of being home and everything you want to get away from, and of the bad things that happened to you. I didn’t like them for… fuck, for years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They sucked without my mom, but it wasn’t so bad because we’d come to spend time with you guys or go over to the Kims. My dad made it work, and even though it felt like a fucking gut punch those first few years after my mom died, I sort of adjusted.”

“And then?”

He sighs heavily, looking up at the moon. “And then dad’s old age happened. The man you got tonight was… man, it was good. He was great tonight, happy and present and vibrant. It’s not always like that though - it’s usually not. There are a lot of times when he might forget my mom is gone or might forget that he sold the shop to me and thinks he has to go to work and… it was really hard at first. Trying to make that adjustment.”

“You’re so patient, though.”

“I wasn’t always. Around the holidays I was trying to run the shop and visit him so he wouldn’t feel alone and deal with my own grief about how fucking alone everything felt. There wasn’t anyone to relate to and I was just…” Yoongi shrugs and runs a hand over his brow. “Honestly, I wasn’t very nice for a bit. It was really frustrating to learn new ways to talk to him and I just… hated everyone.”

Fuck you know how it feels. You look at Yoongi as he stares out at the frozen lake. You would never guess that Yoongi, who makes so many different things in his spare time for the holidays could be mean. Yoongi, who eats something different every time you go to Jin’s diner. Yoongi, who chased a stray cat around your backyard until he could bring it in and warm it up inside before taking it over to the shelter. Yoongi who has been unwaveringly kind, and invited you to Christmas Eve dinner so you wouldn’t be alone.

When you were teens, you could have bought that story. He had always been a little standoffish and hard around the edges. You were always in his inner circle, a rare witness to the way that he could melt for the people that he cared about. But the Yoongi of now does not seem like someone who hates the world like Yoongi of then had the potential to - and did.

It doesn’t make sense, this Yoongi that he talks about in the past and the Yoongi that you see in front of you. The Yoongi in front of you is gentle, kind, and soft with those around him. He never raises his voice, he is gentle with customers, and he often pulls more weight than he should at his own store to take the pressure off his employees.

“What changed, then?” you ask, desperately seeking an answer. In him, you see what you want to be. The calmness, the confidence in who he is and what he’s doing. He’s not drowning in his grief, or trying to reconcile a cacophony of feelings. At least, it doesn’t seem like it.

“Therapy, for starters,” he laughs and gives you a look as he lays back in the grass. You join him, feeling the cold sink into your coat, but you don’t care. You like laying here with him under a blanket of frozen stars with the muted sounds of the party just beyond the wooden gate.

He continues, “But also a lot of introspection and a lot of self-hate. This version you have of me now? It’s gone through a lot of pain and suffering and reconciling with myself. It’s not an easy process, but it is worth it. And it started with me not blaming Christmas for things that were just… beyond my control.”

“Fuck, so I have to apologize to Santa? I’m not even religious.”

Yoongi’s breath turns to fog as he laughs. You watch the way his eyes crinkle, shining with mirth under the gray light of the moon. He glows under the night sky – cheeks frozen-blush, lips chapped a little from the winter wind, nose cherry read. Droplets of dew cling to his long hair, a crown of diamonds on a prince spun from moonbeams.

At least, that’s what it feels like as you watch his laughter settle. Yoongi smiles up at the sky and that tight feeling constricts in your chest again. This version of him is so much softer than the teenager you remember. Warm at the edges, melted with a lifetime of experiences that have thawed that hard exterior.

Something like envy slithers through you. Envy that Yoongi has long healed from his hurts. That he seems to have settled here he is now, in happiness and knowing his path. He doesn’t have everything but he has enough, and as he turns to look at you, dark eyes sparkling, you can’t help but avert your gaze.

You don’t want him to see the inside of you.

“It’s more about Christmas as a concept,” Yoongi sighs, looking back up at the sky. Marshmallow clouds drift across a midnight canvas. You can only make out the brightest of stars here, the light pollution dimming the effect. “I’m not religious either, but the effect that the holidays can have on people is touching. Heartwarming. People love others a little extra.”

“Yeah, well they should do that year-round.”

“Small steps, small steps. Maybe it’s an open conversation at a dinner, or maybe it’s someone seeing family they haven't seen in a while. There are so many opportunities for love and warmth and chances to open your heart.”

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Make fun of me all you want,” he chuckles. “I know it sounds idealistic and a little bit naïve. But I’ve experienced too much sadness to keep thinking that’s all there is, and I’ve seen people’s lives change around the holidays. It’s special.”

You hum. “Why wait until the end of the year for all of that so-called happiness, then?”

“Life is hard - like really fucking hard. Sometimes when the end of the year is staring you right in the face, or when you're realizing it may be your last Christmas with an aging loved one is the push people need to brave that first step to being happy.”

“You’re celebrating procrastination.”

Yoongi sighs. He rolls over on his side and props his head up with his hand. You feel a flush of warmth curl through you under the weight of his full attention. Suddenly the cold hard ground you’ve opted to lay on doesn’t feel so bad.

“I’m celebrating people being moved to do something.” His tone is gentle. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He seems thoughtful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “I’m celebrating that sometimes the holidays are the worst time for people. But something small will happen to make them feel even a moment of happiness. Just one small second of relief from the fucking madness.”

You think about everything that’s happened in the last few weeks. A tightness constricts your throat and you try to swallow past it. It takes you a few moments, but you imagine what it would be like to have just a fucking second to catch your breath. To have a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness.

“I just…” Yoongi’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I want people to be happy. And it feels like maybe this time of year has more potential than most. So that’s what I celebrate. Not the gift and the capitalism and the hypocrisy of it all. But the little seconds in between.”

A long, slow breath of air leaves you. You watch it steam and curl toward the sky before fading. “Well, Yoongi. I wish I was nearly as optimistic.”

“Maybe you can be.” You glance at him and see him smiling. “Just give me a chance to persuade you, yeah? My work seems to be paying off so far.”

“It is. I have an appointment to talk to a therapist in three weeks. It’s just an introductory thing, but…”

“That’s great, honestly. I don’t want to say I’m proud of you because that’s pretentious and you’re not doing this for me, but I really hope it helps.” Silence settles between you. It isn’t uncomfortable, but you are cold, despite the warmth that blooms when he studies your face. “Wanna go inside and drink a fuck ton of wine and then Irish exit?”

“Fuck yeah,” you laugh, letting him help you to your feet.

Back inside of the party, you do just that. Yoongi plies you with sweet, red wine until there’s a cotton-soft buzz in your body. You’re a little bit nicer to people who still whisper when you walk by, and you even let Seokjin drag you into a single karaoke performance of Baby It’s Cold Outside.

It’s already embarrassing to show how horrible you are at singing, but to make matters worse, you cannot stop glancing over at Yoongi who leans against the wall of the living room, a plastic wine up in his hand, dark eyes focused only on you.

Heat pools in your lower stomach at his gaze, watching it darken by the minute. You do not miss when Jessa - who Old Man Min has dubbed Jenna - approaches Yoongi tentatively. And yet he is dismissive, the overly-warm and kind exterior replaced with something sharper. Hungrier.

And his focus is entirely on you.

When you finish the song and wander over to him, breathless, he keeps his eyes pinned on you. Fathomless pools that draw you in until you feel like you’re falling falling falling, weightless and breathless. No one has ever looked at you like that. Not even your fiance.

“What?” you ask, voice shaking as you lean against the wall, face tilted up toward him. You feel warm and wine-slow all over, limbs heavy and comfortable. Your lashes flutter when you slow blink at him. His lips are stained red from wine. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“What way?”

Embolden by sweet wine, your talk on the lawn and your innocent hand holding, you huff. “In a way that makes me want to be stupid and kiss you.”

“That would make you stupid?”

You drop your gaze and press the rim of your plastic cup to your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I kind of want to do it, but I don’t… know?”

His voice is lower and deeper, soft against your sense as he leans in a little. “So you want to kiss me?” You nod. “But you don’t know if you want to kiss me?”

“I don’t want you to think it’s… I haven’t been single for long. I don’t want you to think that of me. It isn’t because of that. I’ve wanted to for like years and - yeah.”

“I already told you. I think a lot of things of you. That isn’t one.” His gaze flickers around the party. You don’t realize how close he is until he turns back to you, warm breath fanning against your head. “How about we do our exit now and talk about that kiss where there’s not so many eyes, hmm?”

Mutely, you nod at him. Now you definitely want to kiss Yoongi. He’s gone from the soft, gummy-grin man full of holiday cheer to a darker, calm version of himself that is new. Confident. And quite frankly toe-curling.

Yoongi wraps his fingers around yours and leads you to the exit, saying nothing to anyone that you pass by. Then you’re out in the cold and he’s unlocking the truck, popping open your door and pulling you toward it.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Very,” he promises, voice raspy. “I only live across the stoplight, remember?”

“Ohhh.” You get into the passenger seat, leaning your head on it and looking at Yoongi, who is momentarily propped against your door. “You’re taking me home?”

He leans forward, eyes dropping to your mouth as he mutters, “Uh-huh.”

And then he’s kissing you and the entire world fades into the background.

Yoongi’s lips are just as soft as you imagined. You sink into the kiss, leaning forward into the heavenly press of his mouth. Everything shifts, the dizziness of the wine mulling into dizziness of Yoongi - the way he smells like cedar and rose, the way he presses your mouth open with his, the way he tastes like sweet notes of wine.

The soft brush of his tongue against yours makes your thighs squeeze together. He’s slow as he kisses you, taking his time to suck your tongue into his mouth, rolling his over yours languidly and fuck you’re going to die from just a kiss.

Yoongi pulls back and you whine, hands going to the collar of his jacket and pulling him back, missing the warmth of his mouth, the gentle pull of your lip between his teeth. “More,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his.

His chuckle buzzes through your mouth, a gentle tingle as you pull at his bottom lip with your teeth playfully. He groans as he kisses you, a little sloppier, with a little more tangled tongues and spit. The wet smack of his mouth against yours is interrupted when someone’s dog starts barking in one of the yards, startling you.

“Fuck,” he laughs, voice husky. “In your seat, come on. Let’s go.”

“Meh.”

He grins and pushes your leg back into the cab of the truck. “Greedy.”

Yoongi shuts the door and rounds the hood. Your eyes are glued to him as he gets in, your heart pounding in your chest as he starts the car. It occurs to you that you just kissed Yoongi. Min Yoongi, the one person you’ve been spending time with since you got back. The one person who you thought about late at night when your fiance was asleep and you were chasing thoughts of your past.

The one person who seemed to be willing to look a little deeper. To see that the poison inside of you wasn’t because you didn’t like anyone, or because you thought that you were better. It was because you were afraid and sad and didn’t know how to deal with anything.

Wordlessly, he reaches over the center console, placing his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. You shut your legs, stomach clenching at the feeling of his fingers brushing gently over your jeans. When you look at him, there’s a sideways smirk on his face and you know he knows that your stomach is flipping over the simple touch.

It feels like the drive lasts a thousand years. You’re squirming in the seat as Yoongi’s thumb brushes back and forth, giving you a squeeze now and again accompanied by a grin. You can’t help but smile back, heart in your fucking throat as you see all of the familiar houses pass you by.

The Min home is exactly like you remember it but with less cars. Yoongi parks in the drive, popping open the garage with the press of a button to reveal a workshop of tools, shelves for storage and a flickering overhead light that has been faulty since you were in middle school.

Outside, Yoongi reaches for your hand, pulling you close as you pass under the garage and toward the door that opens up into a white-tiled kitchen. The hum of the closing door follows you in as he flicks on a light, revealing a large kitchen with oak cabinets and a counter full of mail, a catch all, and various containers of sugar, and coffee and other items.

Yoongi chucks his keys and shuffles out of his jacket, tossing it on the counter and turning to you. He gives you a cunning smile and beckons you. There’s no denying his summons, your feet pulling you toward him automatically as he catches you by the waist, pulling you into his chest as he brushes his mouth against yours again.

Somehow, it feels normal to be doing this. To press your palms against his chest as he lounges lazily against his kitchen counter, one hand on your waist and one hand on the side of your neck as he tilts your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily. Like he’s waited an entire lifetime to do this.

The thought makes you pull away suddenly. You look up at him, his face flush and lips kiss-bitten and spit-slicked. His eyes flutter open, looking down at you half-lidded and dazed. “Hmm?”

“Did you really have a crush on me?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, tilting his head backward until it hits a cabinet. The hand on your neck is firm, a steady weight that sends your thoughts wild when his thumb brushes back and forth across the skin of your over-warmed throat.

“Of course I did. You paint so much of my life, you have no idea.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Cause I was terrified. I wasn’t very honest with myself back then, there was no way I could be honest with you. Then after college you got that nice ass job and I realized I was coming back home and I couldn’t go with you.”

“Even in college?”

“Yeah,” he whispers to the ceiling. “Even in college. I had this big idea to maybe tell you when we graduated. I was going to work at that new startup I told you about - it was only thirty minutes away from you. And then that didn’t happen and…” He shrugs. “I realized we weren’t on the same path. It seemed pointless.”

You stare at him for a few moments, thoughts flicking through your mind at a blinding pace. Yoongi had liked you in high school. In college. Had put off telling you because he didn’t think you’d be interested enough to stay, or to figure it out or to-

“I’d have dated you anyway,” you murmur. Carefully, you move a strand of blonde hair from his eyes when he looks down at you in surprise. “Yeah,” you laugh when you see his face. “Yoongi, I was totally head over heels for you in high school and in college. And then you dated Jessa and I just figured it would be embarrassing to tell you later so I just didn’t say anything.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Those first few months when you never texted me that you had settled in at your new job I figured you had new friends or just didn’t have time for me. I didn’t even…” You sigh. “I didn’t realize you didn’t move there. I was too nervous to look at your social media.”

“I barely update it anyways.”

“I know. It’s all your cat.” That piques your interest and you pull away from him, looking around. “Where is your kitty? I want to see.”

“I love that you are excited about my cat, but I would like to request that we look for him later. I have other things I wanna do.”

“Oh?”

Yoongi’s gaze is dark when you look back at him. Your fingers tighten in his shirt, going still under the razor-sharp look he gives you. “Yeah,” he confirms. “I want to show you how fucking bad I wanted you - do want you. And I don’t want you to think I’m just saying all this, or that I’m using a moment of weakness. Since you walked into the kitchen that night, I have not been able to stop thinking about every second of my life that I liked you. That I wanted to kiss you. That I wanted to fuck you until all you could think about was the way I felt.”

“Yoongi.”

“Hmm?”

“I would like that very much.”

Yoongi’s smile is dazzling, completely at ends with how he just said he wants to fuck you but you don’t care.

Especially when he gives you a chaste kiss to the mouth. Once. Twice. And leads you through the home that you already know. His bedroom is on the opposite side of where his parents slept, and when he opens the door to reveal a room lit by a single salt lamp, you almost expect it to be covered in drawings of buildings and filled with canvas prints of famous buildings around the world and sheets designed like graph paper.

Instead, you’re surprised to see an elevated room with newly painted, limewash walls, a heavy desk tucked into the corner with leather portfolios and neatly stacked papers, dark linen sheets folded neatly on the bed with several pillows - including decorative - against a beautiful headboard with a keen design you know is his.

The room looks lived in and elegant, and it smells like the sage and jasmine reed diffuser in the corner.

“You’re fucking hot,” you blurt, startling yourself and Yoongi. “Like your room is - adult. And you made that desk and headboard right? Fucking-” You look up at him and shake your head. “It’s really hot that you do all of these things.”

“Wow. Just the room does it for you, huh?”

You shove him playfully and he falls back on his bed, sitting with a soft bounce. He opens his legs and leans back on his palms, eyes drifting up and down your frame. He smirks, cool confidence making your hands shake as you take a step forward, suddenly feeling far more nervous than you ever have around him.

“Come here,” he purrs, lifting a hand and patting his thigh.

In a trance, you compy. Carefully you crawl into his lap, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his waist as you settle your ass between his legs. His hands wrap behind you, pressed into the small of your back as he leans forward, catching your mouth with his. He pulls your coat from your shoulders, dropping it to the floor as you settle your hand around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair.

Kissing Yoongi makes the world stop. Here, in his bedroom, in his lap, nothing else matters. It doesn’t matter that you’re living in your mom’s house again. It doesn’t matter that you have to figure out what to do about a new place to live. It doesn’t matter that a teeny-tiny part of you was relieved to find your fiance cheating. It doesn’t matter that you were more mad about being kicked out of the apartment than anything else.

All that matters is that something slides into place when Yoongi leans back, letting you fall onto his chest. You giggle into his mouth, letting the slide of your tongues and lips lull you into a sense of longing that you’ve harbored for years without realizing it.

You’re drowning in Yoongi. Your lungs are full of him, sending you gasping into his mouth when he rolls your hips against his, the friction sparking a fire in you. You’re completely lost in him, drifting further and further his mouth places hot, wet kisses on your jaw and neck.

It never occurred to you that you could want someone - Yoongi - this badly. You tremble on top of him as his fingers pull your shirt from the waistband of your jeans, fingers seeking the warmth of your skin.

Breathing becomes difficult, your lips ghosting across the tender skin of his neck, nipping lightly as his calloused fingers brush across your hips, digging in as he rocks you against him. You can’t help but shiver at the feeling of arousal in your stomach, fingers quaking as he lets out a soft moan next to your ear.

Gently, Yoongi rolls the two of you over, slotting himself between your legs and pressing his clothed hard-on where you want him most. You look up at him as he pushes his hair out of his eyes, skin flushed and full of warmth and want. He is beautiful.

Something in you blooms, hungry and feral. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, squeezing his palms under yours. He grins, getting the hint as he gives your tits a gentle squeeze, working a light moan from you.

“You always had great tits,” Yoongi admits, thumbs circling the gentle hint of nipples through your shirt and bralette. You squirm under his touch and his grin grows wider. “Yeah? Sensitive, hmm?”

“Yes.”

With a pleased hum, Yoongi removes your shirt. It’s cold in his room, but he’s quick to bend down, his hands rubbing up and down your sides, chasing away the goosebumps as he looks up at you, mouth hovering over a peaked nipple.

Slowly, Yoongi flicks his tongue over your nipple. The sensation makes you kick against the mattress, the stimulation something but not nearly enough. You want more, your hands shooting to his forearms and digging your nails in.

Yoongi huffs, warm air gusting over your skin as he gives you what you want, lowering his mouth and wrapping it around your nipple, soaking the fabric of your bralette. Your eyelids flutter shut, one of his hands holding himself up and the other ghosting along your ribs back and forth, making you shiver repeatedly.

Pulling away, Yoongi plucks your nipple playfully with his teeth, making you squeal from a pinch of pain but a flood of pleasure. You feel lightheaded, teetering on the border between present and somewhere far away and he’s barely even touched you.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks. You realize his lips are ghosting against your chin. “You look a little dazed. We can stop.”

“No.” You shake your head, trying to dispel the fog and blinking down at him. “No it’s - it feels good. It’s hard to think when you touch me I just-” The words are stuck in your mouth and you squeeze your eyes shut.

He kisses your nose gently. “You just what?”

“I’m just really into it and it makes me feel all floaty and out of it but present. I don’t know. It’s overwhelming but good.”

“Do you want to keep going?” You nod. “Okay. You can stop at any time, okay? You ever used safe words?”

“No.”

He kisses you sweetly on the forehead, mouth drifting south until he’s nosing you lightly. His next words come out mumbled against your mouth, the hum sending a soft buzz through your lips. “Tell me a word we can use if you need to stop. No matter what we’re doing, the moment you feel uncomfortable, you use the word.”

“Christmas?”

He snickers and presses his forehead against you. “Fine, Christmas is fine.” He pecks your lips. “Okay.” He pulls your hand from your face, giving you a gentle, innocent kiss to the lips. It helps settle you a little. “Tell me what you like.”

“Umm.” Yoongi places butterfly kisses along your jaw, teeth nipping you lightly. You curse and feel your eyes roll back in your head as he sucks at your skin greedily, one of his hands coming up to brush a thumb back and forth over a nipple. “I don’t know.”

“No?” He pinches your right nipple and you moan loudly, earning a smile against your kiss-slicked neck. “You must like something. Do you like it slow? Rough? Messy? Do you like being choked? Hands above your head? Or in control?”

You shake your head. “Want me in control?” You nod. “Got it.” His hand drifts up to your neck and gives the sides a gentle squeeze. A thrill shoots through you and you lean up into him, nodding. “Yeah? Like having my hand around your throat?”

“Yes. I like…” Your words trail off for a moment as you think through the haze of Yoongi’s rasping voice and mouth. “Umm hard but sort of slow?”

“Mhmm.”

“And messy. Messy is good.”

Yoongi gives a satisfied hum. His hand leaves your nipple, brushing down your heated skin toward the apex of your thighs. He presses his fingers firmly over your clothed pussy, not nearly enough friction with underwear and jeans in the way. “And what about being eaten out? Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

You feel his smile against your throat. “Thank fuck. I’ve been dying to taste this fucking pussy.”

Suddenly you’re glad you have a safe word. Yoongi’s words send a fresh wave of arousal straight to your core, a moan leaving your lips as he worships your skin with his mouth. It feels like you could fall headfirst into him and never stop falling. The tension in your stomach is so tight you nearly snap when he unbuttons your jeans, everything he does is so overwhelming that there is almost an urge to cry.

It’s hard to piece together why you feel like this. Why there is an inferno screaming inside of you, begging to be let out. Why the press of Yoongi’s fingers over your damp panties nearly sends you into a blackout, why when he circles your clit through the fabric you let out a strangled noise.

But you think… maybe you know what it is.

Instead of thinking too hard about it, you focus on the way you’re short of breath. The way that your entire body is vibrating with energy. You look down to where Yoongi is on his knees between your legs, dark eyes looking up at you intently. His hands skate up and down the soft flesh of your inner thighs, squeezing periodically.

Way back when, you were always nervous letting people between your legs, letting them see the most intimate parts of you up close. It was anxiety-filled and you were constantly nervous about being wrong - or just. Anything.

But when Yoongi drops his gaze down to where your underwear sticks to your folds and lets out an appreciative curse, there’s no anxiety at all. Just a desire for Yoongi to make you his. For you to dig your fingers into him and make him yours.

Flashing you a wicked grin, he leans forward and gives a slow, wet lick over your panties. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, back arching and thighs twitching shut a little. The stimulation is more, but not enough. “Please don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, no? Want my mouth on this perfect pussy?”

“Please.”

He tucks his fingers under your underwear and pulls them down slowly, pressing a kiss to your knee absently. “You’re so much more pliant than I expected. Just want to be taken care of?”

Something inside you squeezes sharply and you shut your eyes, nodding. Realizing he can’t see you nodding, you whisper, “Yes.”

Firmly but slowly, Yoongi presses his palms into your thighs, spreading you wide. The stretch pulls your muscles but it’s a pleasant burn that is immediately forgotten when you feel his hot breath skate over your aching hole.

You have never wanted someone’s goddamn mouth this bad. Yoongi laughs and you realize that you’re squirming, wiggling your hips a little toward his mouth. You immediately stop, hands covering your face as you groan, realizing that you are pliant for him.

Embarrassment morphs into surprise and white hot pleasure when Yoongi licks you slowly from dripping hole to clit. Your breath gets stuck in your chest at the sensation, his tongue languidly rolling around your clit before he slow-drags it back down, dipping into your hole teasingly.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp as he repeats the motion, the flat of his tongue dragging upward. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

He hums contentedly, flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit playfully. Your thighs tighten and shake, and you’re only able to let out the breath you’ve been holding when he pulls away and gives a soft chuckle.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, shuffling and sliding his hands under your ass. His fingers grip you firmly and he pulls you to his mouth, using the grip on your ass to anchor you to him. “Can you look at me, baby?”

The new endearment makes your fingers clench in the sheets. It’s dizzying when you shift to your elbows, barely able to prop yourself up. The room tilts as he grins between your legs, lips glossed with your arousal.

“Want you to watch,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. It leaves a sticky mouth print. “Such a sweet little cunt.”

Yoongi’s words have no time to land. He leans forward and you watch with acute fascination as he sucks your clit gently between his lips. Your nerves turn to molten lava and though he wants you to watch, your head falls back and you feel your eyes roll, a whimper escaping your mouth as he suckles greedily.

Everything Yoongi does has always been art. He eats you out no different, alternately between eagerly tonguing every inch of you and sucking gently on your clit. You somehow manage to lift your heavy head, swimming with no thoughts but Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi to watch as he closes his eyes, humming delightedly as his greedy tongue slips into your clenching hole.

“Holy fuck,” you squeak. Your legs threaten to close as the knot in your stomach tightens. You know you’re going to come soon, knees squeezing his shoulders as he hums and sucks and licks, not letting a drop go to waste. “I’m gonnnaaa-”

You can’t finish the sentence. He knows you’re going to come, his tongue firmer, his mouth hungrier. His mouth is loud and wet against you, which might gross you out if you weren’t babbling, twisting your hips under him as the pressure in your stomach shot upward. You’re panting and nearly delirious when one hand slides from your ass to your hole, his thumb applying just enough pressure to relieve a bit of the ache.

“Fuck,” you squeak.

You come hard, eyes squeezed shut, Yoongi sucking your clit harshly and humming, the hum of his mouth sending you over and his thumb dipping into your hole to apply pressure. Under the force of your orgasm, you collapse to the bed, full-body twitching as his gluttonous mouth sucks at you, not letting up.

A numb-like tingle settles into your veins. You feel drunk, and not from the wine. Something headier that makes your thoughts white noise and your limbs heavy-soft. Yoongi gives your clit a kiss before squeezing your ass playfully, kissing his way up your stomach to your chest.

“How are you doing?” he asks gently.

“I think I just saw god,” you croak, voice hoarse from overuse. “Fuck. Fuck.”

He hums and licks into your mouth. You taste yourself on him, sticky-sweet and heady. He moans, dropping his hips to press against your slick thighs and still-dripping cunt. “Let me,” you mumble against his mouth, hand dropping between you and squeezing him over his jeans. Fuck. Your eyes flutter open, your hand feeling the full size of Yoongi’s cock. “Oh my god, do you have a big dick?”

Yoongi bursts into laughter, groaning and burying his head in your neck. He busies his mouth with placing sloppy kisses, more tongue than anything, against your pulse point. “I mean, yeah.”

“I mean, yeah,” you mimic in a high-pitched voice. He laughs and you squirm. Even his laugh is hot. “Well show me. I wanna suck you off.”

“Can I be honest?”

“You just made me come from tongue alone, so yeah.”

“If your mouth comes near my dick I might come. I was close to busting in my fucking jeans like a teenager just now. I’d love for you to suck me off another time, but I am living my dream right now and I might bust a nut immediately.”

You look at him owlishly. “Living your dream, huh?”

“Shut up,” he growls playfully. “Roll over on your stomach for me and put that perfect ass into the air, hmm?”

With sluggish limbs and your head spinning, you do what he asks. He snaps the back of your bralette and you let it fall down your arms before tossing it aside. Leaning on your elbows, you put your ass in the air, wiggling it for effect. He huffs out a laugh behind you and you turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off.

Underneath his clothes, Yoongi is flushed pink and smooth. You watch, dazed and appreciative as he undoes his jeans swiftly. There is something alluring about watching the way his hands work his pants off. His strong thighs flex when he straightens, tucking his thumbs underneath the waistband of his briefs to slide them down and -

“Holy fuck,” you blurt. Yoongi looks up at you, blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cock bobbing heavily against his stomach. He does have a big dick - thick and long with a flushed tip leaking precum that makes your mouth water. “You’re joking.”

For a moment, the confident Yoongi from a second ago wavers, face red as he shyly gets on the bed. “If we have to stop we can-”

“Please fuck me,” you beg. You don’t even hesitate, shuffling your knees so that your ass is higher. “I don’t care if it hurts. Please.”

His hands are on your ass, making your heart hammer in your chest. You think it might give out as Yoongi shuffles behind you, his thighs brushing against the back of yours. You feel the sticky crown of his cock against an asscheek, making you press backward to apply pressure. A sharp smack lands on your ass, earning both a cry and a moan from you.

“Don’t fucking start,” Yoongi growls. Both of his hands grip your ass as he slides his shaft between your sticky folds. Your forehead rests on sweaty sheets as you pant, feeling how hard and long he is. “Gonna fuck you open with my fingers a little.”

“Yoongi.”

“You said you wanted me to fuck you, baby. So let me.”

Yoongi’s hands drift from the apples of your ass to your fluttering hole. There’s a pit in your stomach, butterflies going wild as his fingers brush around your ring of muscles, hole twitching. His cock is pressed against your ass as he slides a finger in, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as he presses against your front wall, the smooth glide of his fingers addicting.

“More,” you whisper. “Please.”

He hums in agreement, sliding in another finger. It’s a stretch, but it’s good. Pleasure whites out everything else. There’s just the tight glide of his fingers, pressing against that soft spot in you. Everything he does, your stomach lurches, the pleasure turning you boneless as you continue to melt into the mattress, letting Yoongi slow-fuck you with his fingers until he decides you can take him.

Slowly, he removes his fingers, a line of arousal sticking to your ass as he uses both hands to spread you open. He moans, shuffling so that his cockhead catches your entrance, holding the blunt tip there for a second, letting your hole clench and unclench at the pressure.

“Holy fuck, please.”

“What was that?”

“Min Yoongi, plea-”

Your words turn into an embarrassing sound as he sinks deep into your pussy, so wet that he slides almost to the hilt. The wind gets knocked out of you and for a second, you lay there in white light, unable to think about anything but the painful stretch of his cock reaching deep deep.

There’s nothing else but the feel of him, hips pressed to your ass, hands rubbing up and down your back, letting your walls flutter around him as you adjust to the girth. And you do have to adjust, remembering to breathe through it. When the slight sting fades, you swivel your hips, making both of you sigh.

Taking the hint, Yoongi pulls out, using his hands on your ass to control both of your movements before he sinks back in, finding a smooth, steady rhythm that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. You’re gone in seconds, thoughts replaced by the livewire feeling in your stomach and the way Yoongi fucks you hard and deep, though his movements are slow.

Yoongi makes sounds behind you that make you fall apart that much faster. His hands are reverent and careful as he pulls you onto his cock, fucking you like you asked. Slow. With purpose. Every thrust is weighted, Yoongi putting his entire frame into each stroke as he fucks you into the mattress, punctuated by his stilted breaths.

“Fuck,” he swears. “You have no fucking idea the way I dreamed about this. Fucking-” he breaks off with a growl, fingers gripping you with bone-shattering strength. “Wanted to do everything with you. For years.”

Something inside of you snaps and you let out a muffled cry, realizing that you're near tears. Because yeah. You know what he means. You knew it when you saw him standing in the kitchen making a home with your mom. You knew it when you saw him carving rocking chairs and brushing sawdust out of your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp as he adjusts the angle, hitting your spot on the upstroke. It nearly sends you into space. “But me too.”

He smacks your ass, the sting almost sending you headfirst into your orgasm. “Yeah? Thought of me even when you weren’t here, hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Thought of me even when you were lying awake at night in a city without me?”

“Yes.”

He slaps your ass again and you feel your orgasm, so tight and intense that you think you might die if the pressure doesn’t pop. “Come on,” he grunts, a hand sliding around your waist and reading down to press tight circles on your clit. Your vision goes white. “Come for me, then. Fucking show me.”

It’s all you need. You come around Yoongi, squeezing him so tight and screaming viciously into his sheets. He grabs you tight and curses loudly behind you, immediately coming deep in your cunt, shivering against you as he pants through it. You’re barely aware that his weight is on top of you, your entire being somewhere else far away.

For a while, there is just gasping breaths and tangled limbs. You’re unsure how to string together words, your mind and bones melted. Your body twitching with post-orgasm tremors.

Strings of thoughts begin to pull together. The twine to make coherent ideas. Memories. Things. You feel the weight of Yoongi, who is only half on top of you as he tries to catch his breath. Tries to piece himself together, both of you collapsed and tangled in something beyond just bodies.

Whatever it is that just happened is more than just fucking and you know it. Know that Yoongi knows it. You’ve been dancing around an inevitable thought for weeks, while watching him hunched over his workstation, painting stain on a cabinet with his sweater sleeves pulled over his hand. Watching him shuffle boxes of dreidels that he hand-carved for the synagogue down the street.

The dread of coming home during the holidays was always about the association to your family. To your dad being gone. To the guilt gnawing at you for leaving your mom. But now, as he pulls the rest of himself off of you and rolls onto his back, hands grabbing you and pulling you to his sweaty side, you think that maybe being afraid of home was a little bit about him too. About the memory of him. About the little inkling of a crush that you never got over.

“Your mom is gonna give us so much shit in the morning,” he mumbles, words a little slurred. You curl into his side, tucking your face in his neck. He smells a little like cedar, a little like sex and sweat. “She might never let me in the house again.”

“Untrue. She loves you.”

“Hmm. It’s a start.” He sighs, words drifting off. “And no safe word needed. I could barely choke you out if I wanted. I thought I was gonna come as soon as I put it in. Holy fuck.”

“Fuck Christmas,” you laugh. “I want you to do that again. However you want to.” He snorts. “Also, I want to suck your dick in the morning. I didn’t get you a gift.”

“Fine,” he mumbles. “Sleep, yeah?”

You hum. “Yeah.”

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