I would like to ask the cooper out on a date to the festival please.
We'll play balloon dart, eat churros, cheesy corndog and tanghulu. I also have tickets to the stand up comedy show (husband) and the bouncy castles.
(Cold husband!Yeosang who gradually fell head over heels for you but sucks at showing his affection. One day discovers your fanfiction/romance book stash and you can take the wheel from there 😌.PLEASE. I'LL GIVE YOU MY SOUL.)
synopsis : In a cold, arranged marriage, a cheerful wife longs for affection. When her husband discovers her romance stories, he awkwardly begins learning how to love—slowly turning their relationship into something real.
genre : slice of life, mafia au, angst, slow-burn, comfort, fluff, little comedy
warnings : none
author’s note : im on holiday rn so ill be posting more hehe 😝
word count : 1.7k
The first thing you learned about your husband was that he didn’t smile.
Not at the wedding. Not during the vows.
Not even when the officiant tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about “till death do you part” sounding a little too literal considering his line of work.
Kang Yeosang had simply stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, hands steady, expression unreadable—like he wasn’t marrying you, but signing a contract.
Which, to be fair, he kind of was.
You weren’t naive.
You knew exactly what this marriage was: a strategic alliance between your family and his.
Stability. Protection. Power consolidation.
All the very romantic things that made mafia deals go smoothly.
What you didn’t expect… was how quiet he would be. Not cold in the dramatic, cruel way.
Just… distant.
Like he existed slightly outside of your world.
He spoke when necessary. Ate with precision. Moved like someone always calculating three steps ahead.
Even at home, where most people would relax, Yeosang remained composed—back straight, voice low, emotions tucked away behind a wall you couldn’t even see the edges of.
At first, you tried.
“Do you like tea or coffee?” you had asked on the third morning after moving in.
“Either.”
“…Okay, but which do you prefer?”
A pause.
“Tea.”
You beamed. “Great! I’ll remember that.”
He nodded once. That was it.
No “thank you.” No follow-up.
Just… Yeosang.
You refused to let that discourage you.
If he was a wall, you’d be ivy.
You talked about everything.
Your day. The neighbor’s weird cat. A random documentary you watched. A joke you found funny.
He listened, always. That was the strange part.
He never interrupted, never dismissed you, never told you to stop talking. He just… didn’t respond much.
Still, you noticed things.
Like how his gaze would linger just a fraction longer when you laughed.
Or how he’d subtly adjust the air conditioning because you once mentioned you got cold easily.
Or how your favorite snacks would magically appear in the pantry after you offhandedly said you liked them.
He didn’t show his affection with his words.
He… executed it.
Quietly. Efficiently.
Like everything else he did.
You shared a room.
A large one, elegant and impersonal at first, until you filled it with small touches—books on the nightstand, soft blankets, a ridiculous amount of pillows Yeosang never complained about.
The bed, however, remained a clear line of demarcation.
You on one side. Him on the other.
He never crossed it. Not even in his sleep. Not even once.
It wasn’t rejection, exactly. It just… felt like distance.
And sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and Yeosang’s breathing was steady beside you, you’d stare at the ceiling and wonder—
Does he even like me?
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
If there was one thing you didn’t share with him, it was your stash.
Hidden carefully in the bottom drawer of your desk, beneath neatly folded scarves and old notebooks, was your treasure trove:
Romance novels. Fanfiction printouts.
Dog-eared pages, highlighted lines, sticky notes marking your favorite scenes.
Soft love. Slow burns. Confessions whispered in the dark.
The kind of affection your marriage didn’t quite have.
It wasn’t that you expected Yeosang to suddenly turn into a dramatic romantic lead.
But sometimes—
Okay, a lot of times—
you wished he’d just… reach for you.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
It happened on a completely normal afternoon.
Which, in hindsight, was exactly how life liked to ruin you.
You had left in a hurry, rushing out to meet a friend, completely forgetting that you’d left your drawer slightly open.
And Yeosang… had come home early.
He wasn’t looking for anything in particular.
Just a document he thought might be on your desk.
He noticed the drawer because it wasn’t perfectly aligned.
And Yeosang was, unfortunately, a man who noticed everything.
So he opened it.
And found…books. A lot of books.
He frowned slightly, picking one up. The cover was… pink.
Suspiciously pink.
He flipped it open.
Read a line. Paused. Read another.
His expression didn’t change much. But his ears turned slightly red.
“His fingers traced her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her skin—”
Yeosang closed the book.
Very calmly. Placed it back.
Opened another one.
“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.”
Pause. Blink.
Yeosang sat down.
And, for reasons even he couldn’t quite explain…kept reading.
You didn’t think anything was wrong when you walked in.
“Yeosang, I’m back!” you called cheerfully, slipping off your shoes.
No response. That wasn’t unusual.
You wandered into the bedroom—and froze.
Because your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Holding one of your books.
Your brain stopped functioning.
“…”
“…”
He looked up. You looked at him.
The book.
Him.
The book.
Him.
“I can explain,” you blurted.
“Explain what,” he asked calmly, holding up the book, “this?”
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“It’s—uh—it’s research.”
“Research.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“…life.”
A pause.
Then—
“…I see.”
He looked back at the page and continued reading.
You stood there. Processing.
“…Wait.”
You stepped closer.
“You’re just going to keep reading it?”
“I was in the middle of a chapter.”
“That’s not the point!”
He glanced at you.
“Then what is?”
Your face burned.
“That’s private!”
“I didn’t know that,” he said, tone even. “It was not labeled.”
“You don’t need a label, it’s obvious—!”
Another pause.
He closed the book gently. Looked at you.
“…Do you like this kind of thing?”
Your soul left your body.
“Why are you asking that?” you said weakly.
“You read a lot of it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!”
“It usually does.”
“That’s not—” you stopped. “Okay, yes, I like it, but that’s not the point!”
“What is the point?”
“The point is that you weren’t supposed to see it!”
“Why.”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“Why.”
“Because it just is!”
Yeosang studied you. Carefully.
“…It is about affection,” he said.
You froze.
“…What?”
“These stories,” he continued, flipping the book slightly, “they focus heavily on emotional and physical intimacy.”
You covered your face.
“I know what they’re about, Yeosang.”
“Do you want that?”
Your hands dropped. The room went quiet.
He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t even embarrassed.
He was just… asking.
Direct. Honest.
Like he always did.
And suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.
“…I mean,” you started, quieter now, “I don’t expect… all that dramatic stuff.”
He waited.
“I just…” you hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me.”
Silence.
“I do,” he said.
You blinked.
“…You do?”
“Yes.”
“…Oh.”
That was… not what you expected.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Something shifted after that.
Not dramatically. Not overnight.
But… noticeably. It started small.
One evening, you were reading on the couch when he sat beside you.
Closer than usual. Not touching.
Just… close.
You noticed. Said nothing.
Then—
His hand moved.
Slowly. Carefully.
And rested next to yours.
Not holding. Not quite touching.
Just… there.
You stared at it. Then at him.
He was looking straight ahead, completely composed.
But his fingers… twitched slightly. Like he wasn’t used to this either.
You smiled. And gently placed your hand over his.
He froze.
But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t react.
Just… stayed.
But his grip tightened. Just a little.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Yeosang approached affection like he approached everything else:
Methodically.
Which led to… some very interesting moments.
“You look… acceptable.”
“Acceptable???”
He paused.
“…Good.”
You burst out laughing. He looked mildly offended.
Another time, you were in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged you.
From behind. Stiffly.
Like he had read instructions but didn’t quite understand them.
You nearly dropped the spoon.
“…Yeosang?”
“…Yes.”
“…Are you okay?”
“I am attempting something.”
“…I can tell.”
Pause.
“…Is it working?”
You turned in his arms, smiling.
“Yeah. It is.”
The third time, you came home one day to find candles.
Everywhere. Way too many candles.
“Yeosang—why does it look like a ritual in here?”
“I read that this creates atmosphere.”
“…For what?”
He hesitated.
“…Romance.”
You stared at him.
Then laughed so hard you had to sit down.
He looked deeply confused.
Despite the awkwardness, the stiffness, the occasional complete misunderstanding of fictional tropes—
He was trying. For you.
And that mattered more than anything.
But the real moment—
The one that stayed with you came quietly. Like everything important did with him.
It was late.
You were half-asleep, curled up on your side of the bed.
When you felt it.
A shift. Warmth. Weight.
You blinked your eyes open.
And realized—
Yeosang had moved.
Closer. Not all the way.
But enough that his arm rested lightly over your waist.
Careful. Hesitant.
Like he was giving you the chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
Instead, you leaned back slightly. Into him.
He stiffened. But then relaxed.
And that meant a lot.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Yeosang didn’t become a completely different person.
He didn’t start making grand declarations or dramatic confessions.
But you started noticing more. A lot more.
The way he always made sure you ate. The way he’d stand just a little closer in public.
The way his hand would find yours without thinking.
The way he remembered everything you said.
Even the smallest things. Especially the smallest things.
And sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking… you’d catch it.
A soft expression. A quiet fondness.
Something warm.
Something yours.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
One night, you found something unexpected.
On your pillow. A book.
One of yours.
With… sticky notes. You picked it up slowly.
Opened it.
And saw annotations.
“This is unrealistic.”
“This is inefficient communication.”
“…This is acceptable.”
You laughed. Then flipped to the last page.
Where a single note waited.
“I am still learning. Be patient.”
Your chest tightened.
Soft. Full. Overwhelming.
You looked up.
And there he was. Standing by the door.
Watching you.
“You wrote this?” you asked.
“Yes.”
You smiled. Walked over.
“And what if I said you’re doing really well?”
He paused.
Then, very gently, he reached out.
Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“…That would be… good.”
“Yeosang?”
“Yes.”
“…Do you love me?”
A rare question.
Direct. Vulnerable.
He didn’t answer immediately.
You waited.
Then—
he stepped closer.
Rested his forehead lightly against yours.
And said, quietly:
“I would not be doing all of this… if I didn’t.”
Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not straight out of your books.
But somehow better.
Because it was him.
And as his hand found yours—steady now, no hesitation— you realized something.
Maybe your story wasn’t like the ones you read. Maybe it didn’t have grand speeches or perfect moments.
Hello Chae just popping in to say hey I hope your month has been splendid so far <3 i also realized we have the same color palette but flip flopped and i think that's so cute <3
omg hai lily 🥹🩷
im after tdy im finally on my holiday! i hope you’re doing well too 🫂
and matching indirectly without planning to is such a fated thing hehe 😝
babes i was at mingi too and damn the media is so fricking annoying like 2 women were chatting while MINGI IS RIGHT THERE and blocked half my pics pmo pmo pmo pmo and why r they holding their phones up when theyre RIGHT IN FRONT and yes i was in a pen it was so hot and sweaty
NOEE I HATE THAT FOR YOU OMG 😭
ik its their job but they can stand literally anywhere else but in front of us like we waited hours for this can you let us have our moment 😔
i saw people pushing in the pen so i hope you're ok 🥺 imma be so fr rn i saw mingi's face go black several times I think the heat was getting to him 😩
also this is very sudden but my hongjoong mafia rom com fic reached 1k likes 😻
thank yew so much for liking, reblogging and even just reading my works! everyone one of yalls encouragement and messages through the comments or my inbox mean so much to me 🥺🩷
ill continue to do my very best and cook up delicious fics for yall 😆🤞
Just want u to know I think ur writing is really amazing and have never doubted it is written by a real person💕💕 honestly can’t tell if people are trying to rage bait you or they seriously don’t have common sense, but I hope you don’t let it get to you too much
awiee thank yew 🥹🩷
idek what they want to achieve out of this but honestly i think im immune alr 😋
im super slow on posting bc i have sch and all and its super shag 😔 but im still here trust🤞🫂
@lcvejjoong has been gettin lots of AI accusations lately n I feel so annoyed because she’s literally one of the best ateez writers on here n she’s extremely nice too …
tho this is not a fic rec, I just want spread the love for her because I just know many atiny readers love her !!
#weluvuchaemwah
IM SAUR PISSED AWFFFFFFFFF
People need to realize and accept that AI is built off of humans and human writing styles. That’s literally how AI generates things, by analyzing and copying patterns within human behavior to make something “human like.” Sure there are a ton of details out there that give away something is AI but almost everytime i’ve seen a fic writer on here get accused, the accusation is almost completely baseless It’s like being in school and getting flagged for AI because I used an oxford comma or know what a semicolon is. I totally agree we should NOT use generative AI to write works and agree we should call out those who DO but we shouldn’t harass the same people over and over and over when they aren’t even using AI in the first place.
@lcvejjoong ignore the haters i’m sick of their ass
Nooo please don’t quit! I’m sorry people have been accusing you of using ai 😔 I personally love all your works and your writing style! I feel like you’re able to get emotions across super well and am always shocked by how affected I feel (in a good way). I hope you have been doing well and don’t forget to rest and hydrate! 💕🫶💕
awwiee thank yew anon 🥹🩷 im glad that there are still readers who enjoy my works 😭
assignments are bashing me but other than that im doing well! and make sure to hydrate yourself too 🫶
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