𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

i’ll see the worth in you when you can’t :)

[nightshao]

ⓘ in this corner, words turn into worlds.

ᯓ★ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ NIGHTS

val ⋮ they/them ⋮ 21+ ⋮ intj ⋮ filo-cad

I write for svt only ⋮ the8 + seokboo + hoshi

network: @svthub

sick person so might be ia for most of the time..

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this blog may contain explicit themes (MDNI), please read the guidelines before diving into my works

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[nightshao]

𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒊𝒎

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Yoon Jeonghan x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ You realise someone’s been following you — but when a private investigator steps in to help, it becomes clear the stalker isn’t after money or lust at all.. he’s trying to protect you from something worse.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Fluff, Stalker au, Dark Romance, Mystery, Little confusing.. ready your minds lol, Jeonghan be a little fcked up here.., Porn w/ Plot (please proceed to READ ALL WARNINGS for your safety)

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 13.3k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, FICTIONAL WORK ONLY, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (f. receiving), tongue fucking (f. receiving), grinding, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, restraining hands, stalking, kidnapping, blindfold sex, body worship, dirty talk, degradation, crying from pleasure and pain, dacryphilia, loud moans, possessiveness, creampie, nipple sucking, swing fling position (without ropes), pinning to the wall, squirting, a little dubcon, coming inside without consent, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of gun and fights, lying, scene of getting chased, mention of implied death (no mcd don’t worry)

🎧 ➙ RunRunRun by Dutch Melrose ⋮ R U Mine by Arctic Monkeys ⋮ Let the World Burn by Chris Grey ⋮ Hooked by Why Don’t We ⋮ Shameless by Camila Cabello

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ Finally wrote something in this genre — it’s been a dream hahaha just a heads up!! if you haven’t read my guidelines, this au (and all my other works) does not include any non-consensual or implied sexual assault, as I’m not comfortable writing those. thank you for understanding.

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You lived a quiet life, the kind that repeated itself like clockwork. 6:45 a.m., the alarm buzzed. You’d hit snooze twice, drag yourself to the bathroom, stare at the mirror long enough to ask if you really needed a job, then decide yes — rent existed.

The apartment wasn’t much. A one-bedroom squeezed between a laundry shop and an old tailor’s place that never seemed open. But it was yours. Quiet enough for thoughts to echo, small enough that you could find your keys in thirty seconds flat.

By 7:15, you were walking to the corner cafe. The barista, Yuna, already knew your order — earl grey matcha latte, less ice, “because you look like someone trying to survive corporate life.” You’d laugh, pretend to be offended, then leave her a tip anyway.

At 7:32, you boarded the 45B bus. Always the same seat: third row from the back, left side by the window. You’d plug in your earphones, open your notes app, and scroll through the outline for your next article. Another routine. Another day.

Your phone buzzed.

Seokmin ☀️: “You alive?”

Y/N: “Barely.”

Seokmin ☀️: “Tea before work?”

Y/N: “Already on it. Earl grey matcha latte secured.”

Seokmin ☀️: “You and that sugar addiction are gonna die together.”

You smiled faintly, tucking the phone away. Seokmin had been your friend since college — one of those people who texted you good morning and didn’t expect much else, which you appreciated.

The city outside blurred past — gray streets, billboards, faces you’d forget by lunch. It wasn’t until you got off the bus, tea in one hand and bag in the other, that you noticed something strange. Nothing loud. Nothing dramatic. Just.. the feeling.

Like the air had thickened. You brushed it off, turned the corner to your building. Someone laughed behind you — too far to see, but close enough to feel the vibration of it. You didn’t turn around.

The first week, it was just little things. A key left on the counter instead of the hook. A mug on the table when you swore you hadn’t made coffee yet. You blamed it on stress — deadlines, exhaustion, too many late nights spent staring at a blinking cursor on your laptop. You even joked about it to Seokmin over the phone.

“You’re just tired,” he said. “Maybe get an actual hobby. One that doesn’t involve caffeine and self-loathing.” “Wow, thanks. You should try Hallmark cards.” “I’m serious. Rest.” You tried. You really did.

But then came the footsteps. Soft ones. Muffled, like someone walking barefoot down your hallway when the clock hit past midnight. You froze the first time you heard them — the kind of frozen where your heartbeat becomes a drum in your ears. You turned off your laptop screen, the glow disappearing from the room, and listened.

Nothing. Then something. A creak — just one. From the other side of your bedroom door. You waited, barely breathing. When you finally gathered enough courage to stand and flick the light on, the sound stopped. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

You checked every corner. The bathroom. The kitchen. Even under the bed, though you hated how cliche that was. No one. But your door was open. Not wide, just an inch. Enough to make your stomach twist.

You were sure you’d locked it. You always locked it.

That night, you pushed a chair against the doorknob before crawling under the blanket, eyes fixed on the crack of darkness beneath the frame. You didn’t sleep that well. You only blinked.

The next morning, the world was normal again. Almost too normal. People laughed in the cafe. The barista flirted with a customer. Seokmin spammed you with memes during your break. You told yourself last night didn’t happen. That it was a dream born from exhaustion.

Until you caught your reflection in the cafe window — not directly, but enough to notice something odd. Behind you, blurred by the reflection, was a figure.

Still. Watching. You turned around. Nothing. Just a crowd. Your pulse quickened. You shook your head, forced out a laugh at yourself, and went back to your drink.

But the feeling stayed. That weight between your shoulder blades. That quiet whisper in your mind; someone’s watching. And when you got home that night, your apartment door was locked exactly how you’d left it but the chair you’d wedged beneath the knob was moved.

—

The weekend came with rare sunshine, the kind that made the city glow gold instead of grey. Seokmin had dragged you out of the apartment with promises of ‘emotional recovery’ and ‘vitamin D therapy.’

“You can’t live off caffeine and fear,” he said as you both walked through the mall. “Says the guy who once cried over a coffee machine breaking.” “That was a tragic event.” You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

The day felt good — or at least it tried to be. You wandered through stores, tried ridiculous sunglasses, made fun of overpriced candles. Seokmin even convinced you to try one of those claw machines.

“Watch and learn,” he said dramatically, shoving a coin in. “You said that last time, and you won a plastic frog.” “That frog had character.” “Whatever Seok.. I’m not wasting money for that again hahaha.”

When he failed again, you laughed so hard you had to lean against the glass, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. For a moment, everything — the footsteps, the open door, the uneasy nights — all faded into background noise.

“See?” Seokmin said, grinning, “you’re smiling again. Told you-” “-that I need vitamin D and claw machine therapy,” you finished for him. You stopped for boba after, sitting on a bench near the fountain. Seokmin scrolled through his phone while you talked about work and deadlines. It was easy. Familiar.

But even while you laughed, something felt.. off. Your gaze drifted toward the glass storefront beside you, catching the reflection of the crowd moving past. And that’s when you saw him.

A man — standing perfectly still across the street. Too still. He wasn’t on his phone. He wasn’t looking around.

He was looking at you.

He didn’t flinch when you blinked. Didn’t move when someone passed in front of him. His face was calm — too calm — framed by short dark hair that almost caught the afternoon light. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

You turned your head sharply, scanning the street. But all you see was just cars, a few people, a vendor calling out for customers. Your pulse stuttered.

“Hey,” Seokmin said, nudging you with his elbow, “you okay?” “Yeah,” you breathed out, eyes darting back to the glass. “Just.. thought I saw someone I knew.” He followed your gaze, shrugged, and went back to his drink.

You laughed softly, but it sounded hollow even to you. Because in the reflection of the store window — in that faint shimmer of light and glass — you could’ve sworn you saw movement again.

A hand. Lifting, slowly. Waving at you.

—

You didn’t sleep that night. Every creak of the apartment, every hum of passing cars — it all sounded too close. Too deliberate. By morning, you were running on nerves. You met Seokmin at your usual cafe, trying to keep your voice steady as you told him everything.

“You’re sure it’s not just.. coincidence?” he asked carefully, stirring his drink. You gave him a look. “Doors don’t unlock themselves, Seok. Neither do windows.” He sighed, leaning back. “Ok, ok, fair. But did you see the guy again?”

You hesitated. “Not exactly. But I felt him. Like someone was watching.” For a second, Seokmin didn’t say anything — just drummed his fingers on the table, his expression clouded. Then he stood abruptly. “You’re going to the police.”

“Seok-” “No, I’m serious. This isn’t some Netflix thriller, okay? If someone’s following you, you report it.” You wanted to argue, but you didn’t have the energy to fight logic.

So that afternoon, you went. The police station smelled faintly of paper and disinfectant. You sat at a metal desk, recounting everything — the sounds, the reflection, the ajar door — to an officer who typed slower than you thought humanly possible.

When you finished, he gave you a practiced smile. “We’ll keep a record,” he said. “But without any hard evidence — photos, videos, physical proof — there’s not much we can do for now.” You stared at him. “So I just.. wait?”

He shrugged, sympathetic but detached. “Try not to be alone. Keep your doors locked.” That was it.

Two hours, a filed report, and the same fear sitting heavier in your chest. Later, you found yourself slumped in Seokmin’s passenger seat, the city lights blurring outside. “They didn’t do shit, did they?” he muttered.

You stayed quiet. “God, I hate this. Ok, listen,” he said suddenly, turning to you. “My brother’s friend, Joshua Hong. He’s a private investigator. Works with missing persons, surveillance cases, the whole thing. He’s legit. I’ll give my brother a call, yeah?”

You blinked at him. “A private investigator? Isn’t that a little much?” “So is getting stalked, Y/N.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. He softened at that, giving your shoulder a light nudge. “Hey. We’ll figure this out. Promise.” Outside, the light turned red, and through the glass reflection of the car window, you thought you saw something again.

Your hand tightened around your seatbelt, tension coiling through your chest. Seokmin noticed instantly — of course he did — and started cracking his usual corny jokes to lighten the air.

“But seriously,” he said after a beat, “you can crash at my place for the meantime. Just until things settle.” You immediately shook your head, crossing your arms in an exaggerated X over your chest. “No way. I’m fine, really. Don’t worry too much — I’ll give you a call when I’m about to get kidnapped.”

He groaned, rubbing his face. “That’s not funny.” “Wasn’t meant to be,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

—

Joshua Hong was exactly what you expected a private investigator to be — calm, composed, and quietly observant. He had that kind of presence that didn’t fill the room, but grounded it instead. His tone was even, professional, and his words carried a kind of warmth that immediately made you breathe easier.

“We’ll start simple,” Joshua said, setting his sleek laptop on a small dining table. “Hidden cameras, motion sensors by your door, and one in your hallway. Nothing invasive, just precautionary.”

You nodded, watching him work. His movements were methodical, fingers steady as he adjusted each tiny device. The soft click of tools against your counter became oddly comforting.

“You’ve had the locks changed, right?” he asked, glancing up at you. “Twice,” you replied. “Good. Still-” he gave a faint, knowing smile “-it’s better to assume someone persistent can find a way in.” That line chilled you more than you expected.

When he finished setting up, Joshua insisted on walking you home from the station that evening “for observation purposes,” he’d said — there was something protective in his tone that made you trust him.

The night air was cool. Streetlights flickered as the two of you walked side by side. He kept a small distance, his hands in his coat pockets, scanning the road ahead every so often. “You don’t have to be scared all the time,” Joshua said softly, almost as if reading your mind. “Sometimes fear keeps us sharp. Just don’t let it keep you trapped.”

You smiled faintly. “You sound like you’ve done this too many times.” “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, eyes flicking briefly to your reflection in the glass of a closed bakery window. Then his gaze hardened.

He stepped closer, his voice suddenly low. “Don’t look. Just keep walking.” Your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to turn your head — your peripheral vision caught it: a tall figure across the street, half-hidden by shadow, standing too still.

Joshua’s hand subtly brushed against your back, guiding you forward. “That’s him, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. Your throat went dry. “I think so.” When you finally dared to glance again — the street was empty.

“Mhmm.. got it. A little possessive towards you. huh?”

The following weekend, your apartment felt different. Not scary, not heavy — just quiet in a way that didn’t feel threatening anymore. Joshua’s cameras blinked faintly in the corners, their tiny red lights oddly reassuring.

Seokmin sprawled across your couch with a bag of chips, his legs taking up all the space like he owned the place. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever say this,” he began, crunching loudly, “but these spy cameras make your apartment look expensive.”

You laughed, grabbing the remote and tossing a pillow at him. “You’re such an idiot. They’re for my safety, not your entertainment.” He grinned, holding the chip bag like a mic. “Sure, sure. But admit it the whole setup’s kinda hot. Joshua Hong? Total movie detective name. Tell me he doesn’t look like he solves cases and breaks hearts.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “He’s nice. Professional. That’s it.” Seokmin gasped dramatically. “That’s it? You’re saying that with the face of someone who replayed his voice in her head after he left.” You threw another pillow. “I did not!”

“Please,” he said, sitting up, chip crumbs on his shirt. “The way you talk about him — ‘his voice was calm, his hands steady, his presence reassuring—’ like, come on, are you writing a romance novel or a police report? I bet he’s attractive, based on your description he is, I’ll shoot my shot.”

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “I think he’s straight,” you finally managed to say between giggles. Seokmin clutched his chest like you’d stabbed him. “Unbelievable. Not only am I replaced by a heartthrob detective, but he’s also straight? God really said ‘no crumbs for you, Seokmin.’”

The two of you broke into laughter again, echoing through the small space. For the first time in weeks, you felt at peace. The tension in your shoulders loosened. The silence of the apartment didn’t feel like someone was listening anymore — it just felt like home.

When Seokmin finally left that night, you cleaned up the coffee mugs, humming softly to yourself. The camera light blinked from the corner of the ceiling — steady, blinking, safe.

You smiled faintly at it. “Goodnight,” you murmured playfully. Then you turned off the lights. From across the street, unseen through the blinds, someone else whispered your name despite not being heard — the sound low and reverent. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

—

Joshua’s eyes stayed glued to the monitor. The footage played in fast-forward — hours of mundane living condensed into seconds: you brushing your hair, watering your plants, cooking dinner. Then, a flicker. The screen glitched.

He slowed the playback. The kitchen light dimmed, blinked twice — and there, in that split-second of darkness, a figure appeared by the hallway mirror. Pale. Still. Gone when the light steadied. Joshua froze the frame and leaned in. The face was barely visible, half-shadowed, but he could make out the faint curve of a smile.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. He clicked through the other cameras — same pattern. Every time the lights flickered, the figure was there. Always standing just far enough to not trigger motion sensors. Always watching. He took a steadying breath, then dialed your number.

“Hey,” you answered, casual, unaware. “What’s up?” “Don’t panic,” he said, his tone professional but tight. “You weren’t imagining things. It’s the same man who’s following us. He’s smart.. careful. He only moves when the lights go out.”

You went quiet. “That doesn’t make sense.” “I know. I’ve cross-checked timestamps. Every time your lights flickered — that was him. Always the same figure. Always in the same spots.” “Can you see his face?”

Joshua hesitated, cursor hovering over the blurred image. “…Barely. But I’ll find out who he is. I promise.” I promised myself that I won’t let things go out of control again.

Hours later, Joshua sat in his car outside a dusty municipal records building. He’d been tracing addresses, permits, anything tied to the neighbourhood. And there it was — a file from six years ago. Yoon Jeonghan.

Registered address: two blocks from your apartment. Evicted after a building fire. Joshua’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “How is he..?” He looked back at the printed photo of the man in the security footage. Same outline. Same shape of the face. He then caught himself not being able to breathe slowly for some reason.

—

Meanwhile, you sat in your favorite cafe, hands trembling slightly as you stirred your drink. It was early evening — the time of day you used to love, before every shadow started feeling alive. You’d started noticing patterns too. The man who keeps on following you, it’s the same man every damn time, the same man who keeps appearing everywhere.

Every time you changed your schedule, the silence followed you. But when you went back to routine — there he was again, slipping into your life like he knew every step you’d take. When you got home that night, the lights flickered once. Your phone buzzed.

Unknown number: You shouldn’t have stayed out this late. It’s dangerous.

—

The stairwell was quiet that night — too quiet. The kind of silence that made every step echo longer than it should. You’d stayed late at work, trying to drown your thoughts in unfinished tasks. Joshua’s warnings looped in your head. You tightened your coat around you and pressed the elevator button. Out of order.

Fine. Stairs it is. The lights buzzed overhead, dim and uneven. You took the first few steps down, one hand on the railing, phone gripped in the other. You told yourself you’d call Seokmin the second you reached your floor. You told yourself you were fine.

Then- a voice. Low. Calm. Behind you. “Don’t turn around.” Your breath caught. “I said don’t.”

You froze halfway down the stairs. You didn’t scream, didn’t move — just calculated. The tone wasn’t threatening; it was steady. Too steady. “You’ve been looking for me,” the voice continued, closer now, “and I’ve been trying very hard to keep you safe.”

Your fingers hovered over your phone screen. Emergency call. One press away. “Who are you?” you asked, keeping your voice even. “And why the hell are you following me?” A soft laugh echoed down the stairwell. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

That made your pulse stutter. You risked a glance over your shoulder — and finally saw him. Tall. Pale skin. Attractive. Under the flickering light. A face too calm for the situation, framed by soft short dark hair that looked almost black in the dimness.

His eyes caught yours. And there it was — that same calm, unblinking stare from the reflection in the shop window. He said your name like it belonged to him. “You need to stop.” “Stop what?”

“Digging. Asking. Looking.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re making it harder for me to protect you.” “Protect me from what?” you bit back. He stepped forward once, slow and deliberate, but kept a distance. His gaze didn’t waver. “From what’s coming.”

You forced a scoff, but it came out shaky. “You sound insane.” “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But I’m the only reason you’re still breathing.” He glanced at the flickering bulb above you, then at your phone — still clutched tight. “Call him if you want,” he murmured. “He won’t get here in time.”

You straightened, hiding the tremor in your hands. “You think I’m scared of you?” He smiled — soft, heartbreakingly gentle. “No. But you should be.”

For a long second, the two of you stood in silence. Then a door opened somewhere above — a neighbour coming home, faint footsteps echoing down. You blinked, and the man was gone. Just like that.

Only the faint smell of perfume lingered — clean, expensive, almost comforting. You exhaled shakily, hand pressed to your chest. The next morning, you found a note slipped under your door.

Don’t go out tonight.

—

Joshua showed up at your apartment, Jeonghan, the stalker keeps on appearing and talking to you already. Is that even his real name? If I’m a stalker, would I tell my name? Eyes shadowed from lack of sleep and worry. He didn’t even knock properly this time — just a sharp, impatient rhythm against the door before stepping in once you opened it.

“You should’ve called me,” he said, voice low but tense. “You said you’d call me if anything happened.” You set your mug down on the counter, trying to keep your composure. “I didn’t exactly have time to schedule it, Joshua. He was just.. there.”

Joshua dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “He cornered you? Did he touch you?” “No. He didn’t.” You hesitated, remembering the way Jeonghan had spoken. Calm. Knowing. “He just talked.”

“That’s what they all do at first,” Joshua muttered, pacing near the window where one of the hidden cameras blinked faintly. “They act calm so you let your guard down. He’s escalating, Y/N. You need to stay somewhere else for a while-”

“I can’t,” you cut in. “Joshua, listen to me.” He turned, brow furrowed. “He knew things,” you said quietly, Joshua swallowed. “Things he shouldn’t.” “Like what?”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “He mentioned my dad’s watch. The one that broke years ago, after he died — I don’t even wear it anymore.” Joshua’s expression barely flickered. “He could’ve seen old photos.” You shook your head. “He also mentioned a scar on my shoulder. The one I can’t even remember how I got when I woke up from a hospital before. I don’t even remember telling Seokmin about that. No one knows, Joshua.”

He froze. “What else did he say?” You hesitated again. There was something about repeating Jeonghan’s words that made them feel heavier. “He said I needed to stop digging before it’s too late. That I’m making it harder for him to protect me.”

Joshua let out a disbelieving laugh — too sharp to sound amused. “Protect you? He’s delusional.” “Maybe,” you said softly, staring at the faint reflection of the both of you in the window glass. “But what if he’s not lying about everything?”

Joshua’s jaw clenched. “You’re starting to sound like him.” “I’m just saying something’s not adding up.”

He took a slow breath, then crouched down in front of you, his voice lowering — not angry now, just tired and careful. “Y/N, listen. Guys like him.. they study people. They’ll learn every little thing about your life so it feels like fate when they show up. It’s not supernatural, it’s obsession. He’s manipulating you.”

You looked at him, really looked, at the concern tightening his features. The rational explanation made sense — but deep down, something about it didn’t sit right. Jeonghan didn’t look like a man trying to manipulate you. He looked like someone who already knew how the story would end.

You swallowed hard. “He said the lights would flicker again.” Joshua’s brows furrowed. “When?” You hesitated. “Tonight.” He stood abruptly, grabbing his phone. “Then I’m not leaving you alone.”

You forced a small, humourless smile. “You really think staying here will stop the lights from going out?” Joshua looked at you then — really looked. “No. But it’ll stop him from coming back.”

—

The light flickered once. Twice. Then the hallway went dark. Jeonghan exhaled, leaning back against the cold wall of the stairwell, letting the shadows swallow him whole. The static hum of the building’s electricity faded into silence — just as he’d meant it to. He was the one who kept on breaking the lights anyway.

He wasn’t doing it to scare her. Never to scare her. It was the only way to draw them out. They always came with the dark — the echoes, the fragments of what erased her before. Every time the lights went out, he could feel them moving. Lingering around her. Searching for the pulse that used to belong to his.

Not this time. Not again.

He tilted his head, eyes catching the faint glow through the crack under her door. He could feel her presence, her heartbeat, even from here — uneven, but alive. That was enough to keep him breathing, even when his lungs shouldn’t work anymore.

“Stay inside,” he murmured, the words more for himself than her. “Don’t make me lose you again.” His gaze drifted toward the window, the reflection just clear enough to catch his own face. It was strange, how it always looked more human when he thought of her.

Then he saw him. Joshua Hong.

Standing near her window, phone in hand, his expression tense, protective — too close. Too comfortable in her space. Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, a flash of something ugly curling in his chest along with a bad memory.

He shouldn’t care. She was safer with someone near. That was the point. That’s why he hadn’t gone inside tonight. He’d promised himself he’d keep his distance unless it was absolutely necessary. But still..

Still, the sight of Joshua sitting where he’s supposed to sit, speaking to her softly like she was something fragile, like he understood her, like he could- Jeonghan’s hand twitched. He could almost hear her laugh through the walls. The sound was faint, muffled — but it cut deeper than anything else could.

“She doesn’t remember you,” he whispered under his breath, half to mock himself, half to calm the ache in his chest. “She doesn’t even know you exist.” But it didn’t matter. Because he remembered.

He remembered the first time he saw her when they were kids — not here, but before. A different place. The same eyes, though. Always the same eyes. The same promise whispered against his neck before everything burned away.

“Next time,” she’d said back then, “we can be more than friends.” And he believed that. He always did. Even if it meant becoming the monster that haunted her.

His gaze flicked back toward her window, where Joshua’s silhouette moved closer to hers. For a second, it looked like Joshua reached out, brushed something from her cheek — and Jeonghan’s hands curled into fists. He forced himself to look away, digging his nails into his palms until the sting anchored him.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he muttered. “Joshua Hong” The overhead light sputtered, the power surging again — he’d let it. She didn’t like the dark. He knew that.

But before he turned to leave, Jeonghan looked back once more. Through the reflection of the glass, through the hum of static between them — and whispered to no one, “They’re coming again, sweetheart. And you don’t even remember dying last time.”

You hadn’t told Joshua.

Not about the camera you disabled. Not about the spare keys you quietly copied. And definitely not about the way you’d been following the man who was following you. You weren’t sure when it stopped being fearful and started feeling like.. curiosity.

Maybe it was because every time you thought he’d cornered you, he never did. Every time you panicked, the danger somehow missed you by inches. Coincidence? You didn’t believe in that anymore.

It started with the flickers. You traced the pattern — the times the lights went out, the streets where it happened, the buildings that lost power for just a second before you felt eyes on you. It wasn’t random. It was like breadcrumbs. And you followed them.

Tonight, the trail led you two blocks from your apartment, down an alley that smelled faintly of rust and rain. The old tenement building at the end was abandoned — or should’ve been. One of the upper windows glowed faintly gold. You pressed your hand to the door. It was unlocked.

Inside, the air was still. The kind of still that hummed — not silence, but waiting. Your shoes clicked softly on the floor as you stepped through. The walls were lined with photos — hundreds of them, printed and pinned, overlapping like scales. You stopped breathing for a moment.

All of them were you.

You, at the cafe. You, on the bus. You, standing by your window, drinking from a chipped mug. You, in the office.

But that wasn’t what froze you. What froze you were the others. The people around you. Your coworkers, your neighbours, even Joshua and Seokmin. Each photo had red circles, strings connecting faces, handwritten notes in neat cursive “Same company.” “Was there last time.” “With friends again.”

You took a step back, your pulse hammering, your throat dry. “What the fuck?” you whispered, reaching for one of the pinned notes. The handwriting was careful — not frantic like a madman’s, but methodical. Deliberate.

She’s in danger again.

A noise — a soft click — came from the corner of the room. Your breath caught. You turned slowly. A camera light blinked once. Taking a picture of you. And you realised.. he’d let you find this place. He was watching you right now.

You swallowed hard, scanning the walls again. Photos. Clippings. Maps. One photo stood out from the rest: it was burned around the edges, faded from age. It showed you — smiling, different hair, different time — standing beside him. Jeonghan. His arm draped casually over your shoulder, both of you laughing.

Your fingers trembled as you touched the image. The date scribbled on the back made your stomach twist. Twenty years ago. You took a shaky breath. “Who are you?”

A faint voice — the one that made your spine straighten every time — echoed from the small speaker near the desk. “I told you,” Jeonghan murmured. His tone was low, steady, the faintest hint of amusement curling beneath the words. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Your pulse spiked. “You wanted me to.” A pause. Then a soft, knowing chuckle. “Of course I did. I wanted to see how far you’d go.” “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, forcing your voice not to shake. “Why do you have these people’s photos- my photos?!”

His tone shifted, suddenly softer. “Because you liked getting photographed” You froze. “What?” “Such a shame, you can’t even remember me,” he said, almost to himself. “But you will. Feel free to leave if you want, Y/N.”

There was a click, and then silence — the speaker went dead. You stared at it for a long time, the echo of his voice still humming in your bones. And when you looked back at the wall, your eyes caught the smallest detail you hadn’t noticed before — a single line of text scrawled beneath one of your more recent photos.

She’s getting closer. Good.

And you took that clue to leave the place. To leave him.

—

You didn’t hear your phone ring at first. It buzzed for a full minute on the desk beside you before you picked it up, still half-focused on the memory of the wall of photos. “Hello?”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” You flinched. “Seokmin?” “Don’t ‘Seokmin?’ me, Y/N!” His voice cracked halfway between panic and anger. “Joshua just called me- which he never does btw- he said you’ve been off-grid all day, not answering him, not picking up your phone, and now he thinks-” “Calm down-”

“Calm down?! You’re investigating a stalker, not shopping for snacks!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine. I just needed to look into something-” “Without telling anyone?” You hesitated. “If I told Joshua, he’d stop me. You know that.”

“Because that’s his job, Y/N!” His voice wavered again, softer now. “You can’t just go off like some detective in a thriller movie.. this isn’t funny.” “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” “Then what were you trying to be, huh? Brave? Smart?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to answer. He exhaled sharply through the line. “You sound like you’re shaking,” he said, voice low. “Are you safe right now?” “I am,” you lied. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Seokmin” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. You could hear him sniffle faintly — he was crying. “Look,” he said finally, voice breaking, “I’m not trying to yell at you, ok? I just- shit, I’m scared. You’re out there chasing something that’s already chasing you.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.” “Promise me you’ll stop,” he said. You stared at your wall and tried to remember what you saw in Jeonghan's room, the inked notes, the string connections that all pointed back to you. You wanted to promise. You really did.

But you couldn’t.

“Seokmin..” He swallowed audibly. Then, after a pause: “Just be safe, ok?”

You smiled faintly, even though he couldn’t see it. “I will.” “Don’t you dare make me regret trusting you.”

The call ended.

—

Rain blurred the city lights into streaks of silver and gold. The streets were empty at this hour, the kind of quiet that made every echo sound too close. You and Joshua ran through the alley, your breaths ragged and quick.

“Keep moving!” Joshua shouted over the downpour, his hand gripping yours tightly. “He doesn’t like running anyways” The lights overhead flickered once. Twice. Then every streetlamp buzzed, dimming in unison. How did he even knew that?

“Joshua-” “Go!”

You turned the corner and ran, water splashing beneath your shoes. Your chest burned, throat raw from gasping. You didn’t dare look back — you could feel it instead. The weight of eyes on your back, the soft hum of someone’s footsteps keeping perfect rhythm with your own.

You broke into the next street, but Joshua wasn’t behind you anymore. The sound of the rain swallowed everything. “Joshua?” you called out, voice trembling. “Where are you?”

No answer. Joshua and I were talking about how he had already gathered clues and was ready to act on his own. He’d figured out a way to lure Jeonghan out and finally put an end to this madness. But before we could even make it to the authorities’ office, we got cornered in the street.

You slowed down, heartbeat pounding in your ears, until a voice — calm and steady — cut through the rainfall. “You shouldn’t run from me.” Your blood went cold. You turned around, and there he was.

Jeonghan stood beneath the flickering light of a lamppost, his black button-up shirt, the collar standing high and crisp against his neck, soaked through, his hair clinging to his face. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Just watching.

“Don’t come closer,” you warned, stepping back. Your voice cracked. He smiled faintly, that same quiet, unsettling calm in his tone. “You don’t understand yet, do you?” “Stop following me!” You were shaking now, half from the cold, half from the fear.

“Whatever you want, I don’t have it-” “I don’t want anything from you.” His voice softened, almost tender. “I’m here for you.” “Why.. why me?” He tilted his head, eyes glinting under the streetlight. “Because it’s you.”

You stumbled backward, heart racing. The streetlight above you flickered again — brighter, then dark. You couldn’t see his face for a second, and when it lit up again, he was closer. Sharp jawline, smooth and defined. His lips are full, relaxed yet carrying an unreadable expression. What draws you in most, are his eyes, half-lidded under the fall of his hair, holding that distant, unbothered calm that feels almost dangerous.

“Jeonghan, please,” you whispered, tears mixing with the rain. “Just let me go.” He took another slow step forward, eyes locked on yours. “If I do that, you’ll die. I’ll die too.”

You turned and ran. Your breath hitched as you sprinted down the slick pavement, lungs burning. The rain came down harder, blurring everything. You could hear him calling your name — not yelling, just softly, like he was coaxing you home.

“Stop running. You’ll fall.”

You cried harder, the sound breaking from your throat. Your legs felt heavy, your shoes slipping on the wet ground. The streets all looked the same now — turn after turn, wall after wall — until you realised he’d led you here. You were running in circles.

The flicker came again, and you caught a glimpse of him through the rain. Still walking. Still calm. Still there.

“Please,” you sobbed, breath shaking, “why are you doing this to me?” His answer came closer now, like he was right behind you. “I told you, I’m keeping you safe.”

You turned one last corner — then froze. A shadow blocked the path ahead. The lights flickered, went out completely, and the rain turned into silence. You gasped, stepping backward.

And then everything went black.

When you woke, the first thing you felt was warmth. Too much of it. A blanket — soft, heavy — was tucked up to your chin, and something faintly floral lingered in the air. Not your apartment. Not Seokmin’s house. Not even Joshua’s office. Your eyes flew open.

The room was dim, the light a golden pool cast from a single desk lamp. Four walls, concrete, unfinished. A small window barred with metal. On a nearby table sat your phone, dead. Your shoes were gone, replaced with a pair of oversized socks.

Your heartbeat jumped into your throat. “Easy,” a voice murmured. You turned sharply. Jeonghan was seated in a chair by the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His hair was damp again, falling over his eyes, and there was a small cut along his jaw. The kind that didn’t belong to a man who’d just slept peacefully.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. “Don’t scream,” he said softly. “The walls are soundproof anyway.” You froze.

He sighed, like he was tired, and stood up — too slow, too calm. “You fainted back there, but don’t worry, you’ll be safe here with me.” “Safe?” you snapped, voice trembling. “You kidnapped me.”

“Would you rather be dead?” The words hit like ice water. He said them so casually, so matter-of-factly, that you almost believed him. Jeonghan walked to the counter and poured something into a cup — tea, the same tea you always drink. He brought it over and set it beside you.

“Drink.” “I’m not thirsty.” “Yes, you are.” His voice stayed level, but something sharp slipped beneath it. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. Your hands are shaking.”

He reached out to steady them before you could pull away. His palms were warm, steady. You hated the way it made your chest ache. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, softer now. “But I can’t let you go yet.”

You swallowed hard. “Why?” He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You think I’d ever let them touch you again?” You stared at him, heartbeat pounding. “Them?” His gaze flickered toward the door, then back to you. “They found you once before. They erased everything. You think I’d let that happen again?”

You shook your head, backing into the wall. “You sound insane.” “Maybe.” His tone was almost gentle. “But you’re alive. Because of me.”

He moved closer — not enough to touch, but enough that you could see the subtle twitch in his jaw, the sleeplessness under his eyes. His voice dropped low, almost tender

“You can hate me if it keeps you breathing.”

For a moment, the room went still. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled the silence. You could feel his eyes on you, too intent, too knowing. When you didn’t respond, Jeonghan exhaled and stepped back, setting a small bowl of food on the table.

“Eat. Sleep after. You need both.” He turned toward the door. “Jeonghan.” He paused, looking back over his shoulder. You wanted to scream at him, curse him, demand to leave — but the words that slipped out were smaller than you meant.

“Why?” For the first time, his smile faltered. “Because you were supposed to be gone already.” Then he left, the lock clicking softly behind him.

—

You tested your luck the next morning. The moment you heard the faint click of the outer door, you slipped from bed and tried the handle. Locked. Of course. You searched for another exit, maybe a window latch, a vent — something. Nothing.

When Jeonghan came back, you were standing by the door with your arms crossed. “You can’t keep me here,” you said. He only raised a brow, setting a small tray down on the table. “And yet, you haven’t stopped trying.”

“Because I’m not staying.” He walked closer slowly and deliberately, until the air between you tightened. “You’ll stay until it’s safe.” “Safe from what? From you?” That made him smile. “From everything else.”

You didn’t move when he brushed past you to open the curtains. Light poured in — soft morning gold. He looked too normal in it, like he didn’t belong to the darkness that had brought you here. You forced yourself to look away. “You can’t decide what’s best for me.”

“I already did,” he said quietly. Your pulse spiked. He reached up then, fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve to fix where it had slipped off your shoulder. Too gentle, too casual, and yet you froze.

“You’re still shaking,” he murmured. “I told you to eat.” You met his eyes. “Stop acting like you care.” Something flickered there — amusement? Pain? You couldn’t tell. He leaned just close enough for you to feel his breath against your temple.

“You’re hurting me,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t change what’s coming.” Then he stepped back, leaving the words to sink in, the quiet too heavy.

—

It had been a week. You stopped counting days after the third. The walls blurred together, and the air felt heavier the longer you stayed. Jeonghan came and went, silent most times, always bringing food, checking if you’d eaten. You didn’t resist anymore. You couldn’t.

When he walked in that evening, you were sitting on the floor, staring at the untouched meal he’d left that morning. He sighed — soft, weary. “You’re still not eating.” “I’m tired,” you muttered.

“I know.” His voice cracked a little, and before you could look up, he crouched in front of you, taking your hands into his. His palms were warm; yours weren’t. You tried to pull away, but he didn’t let you.

“I don’t want this anymore,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be scared every time you’re near.” Jeonghan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his thumbs brushed over your knuckles — almost like he was memorising them.

“I know,” he said again. “And I wish I could tell you that you’ll never have to be. But it’s not true.” That was when the tears came — silent, angry, helpless. He lifted a hand to your face, wiped them before they fell.

“Why?” you asked, voice trembling. “Why are you doing this? Why me? You never answer my questions!” He hesitated. Then exhaled a long, tired breath. “Because this isn’t the first time they’ve tried to take you.”

You frowned, confused, but he didn’t stop. “I used to work for them. A covert intelligence group — off the books, off the radar. Joshua did too. He just doesn’t remember me.” He laughed once, bitter. “He was the golden one. Always clean, always perfect. I was the one who got my hands dirty.”

He stared at the floor, eyes dark with something between guilt and longing. “One of our cases went wrong. You.. were a witness. You weren’t supposed to see what you did, but you helped me anyway. You saved me. And when they found out, they made sure to erase you from everything — your records, your memory, even from the people who once knew you.”

Your chest tightened. “You’re lying.” “I wish I was.”

He let go of your hands then, only to reach for the locket that hung loosely from your neck — one you’d found in your old belongings but never knew why you kept. “I gave you this,” he whispered. “You told me it made you feel safe.”

You stared at it, at him. “Then why didn’t you stop them?” His throat worked, and his eyes flickered with something raw — regret. “Because I didn’t get there in time. And when I did.. you were gone. Not dead. Just.. erased. Everything you were, everything we were.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. “I thought letting you live a normal life was enough,” he said finally. “But they didn’t stop watching. They were waiting for a chance to finish what they started. So I came back.”

“To protect me,” you whispered bitterly.

“To protect what’s left of you.”

He smiled faintly — sad, tired, broken. “Even if you’ll never remember why I loved you in the first place.”

—

Joshua’s office was a mess of papers and open monitors. Every wall was covered with pinned photos, maps, and scribbled notes — connections only he could follow. Seokmin sat slouched on the couch, rubbing both hands down his face. “You’re telling me you can trace her phone but not her?”

Joshua didn’t answer. His jaw was tight as he stared at the flickering red dot on the screen. “The signal’s active but unstable. Like someone keeps turning it on and off. Whoever took her knows how to scramble location pings.” “Whoever-” Seokmin’s voice cracked. “Just say it. It’s Jeonghan, right?”

Joshua looked up then, eyes dark under the pale glow of the monitors. “Yeah. It’s him. Do you remember from six years ago.. Min?” For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the low hum of the computer filled the room. “Of course I do.. Josh”

Joshua’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, hesitant. “If she’s still got her phone, maybe-” “Call her,” Seokmin interrupted, voice shaking but firm. “Please, just call her.” Joshua dialed, heart thudding. The third ring — a click. “Y/N?” Static. Then a low breath.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you safe? Just say something so I know you’re-” The line shifted, a sound of movement, and then another voice came through — smooth, calm, unhurried. “Joshua Hong,” Jeonghan drawled. “You never were good at staying out of things that didn’t concern you.”

Joshua’s back straightened. “Put her on the phone.” Jeonghan hummed, and you heard a faint gasp in the background. “She’s right here.” Then, quieter, “Tell him you’re fine.”

You hesitated, your voice small. “I’m fine.” “Tell him you don’t need him.” Your throat tightened. “I- I don’t need you, Joshua.” Jeonghan smiled faintly, though Joshua could hear it more than see it. “Good girl.”

Joshua’s knuckles turned white around the phone. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Yoon Jeonghan?” “I’m keeping her alive,” Jeonghan said simply, Joshua could hear whimpers on the other side. “Something you couldn’t do before.”

“That’s not protection. That’s control.” “You wouldn’t understand.” Jeonghan’s voice dropped to a low whisper — not anger, but something worse. “You don’t know what it’s like to love someone so much you’d rather chain her than bury her.”

For a moment, there was silence, heavy, breathless. Joshua could almost hear Y/N’s trembling breath on the other end. “Jeonghan-” Joshua started, but the call was cut off “Stop bothering us.”

The room fell still again. Seokmin swallowed hard, Joshua didn’t even notice he was already standing beside him. “What did he say?” Joshua stared at the blank screen, Joshua remembers who Jeonghan is. Who Jeonghan was. “Enough,” he murmured, “..to know he’s not letting her go.”

—

“You know,” Jeonghan mumbled, pulling away slightly to watch you try to muffle your cries with a pillow. “You did better hiding your moans than your screams.”

The room was filled with the sound of soft moans and heavy breathing. Your back arched deeply off the table as Jeonghan gripped your thighs, lifting your hips off the surface completely. The position made his cock hit your deepest spots perfectly, making your whole body feel weak.

“Mmph,” you tried to suppress your noises as he pulled almost all the way out, only to push back inside roughly. Your big, round bottom smacked loudly against the table each time. You bit your lower lip hard to keep from screaming loudly. “Jeonghan!”

How did we end up here.. you’re asking?

“Why did you love me…?” you whispered, searching his face, desperate for an answer.

Jeonghan didn’t look at you right away. His gaze flickered to the floor, then the wall, anywhere but your eyes — as if the truth might hurt more if he saw the way you were looking at him. “Because you were the only person,” he murmured, voice breaking with quiet conviction, “who looked at me and saw who I am. Not an orphan. Not a weapon. Just.. me.”

You blinked back tears, heart twisting at the pain in his voice. Slowly, almost timidly, you reached up, fingers brushing his jaw — cold at first, then warm beneath your touch. “You still are,” you whispered.

That was all it took. Jeonghan exhaled shakily, eyes closing as he leaned forward. His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing your skin like a promise he couldn’t keep. And then, wordlessly, he kissed you. At first you winced, trying to pull back, but he deepened the kiss.

Jeonghan murmured against your mouth, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours instead. His hand stayed at the back of your neck, gently holding you in place. “Don't pull away.” His thumb caressed your jaw lightly. “Not now.” His hips moved slowly, like he wants to make love instead of fucking.

“No.. Jeonghan,” you whispered weakly, trying to push him away slightly as he started grinding against you. His hands gripped your hips firmly to keep you in place. “Stop... I don't want this,” you pleaded softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes again.

He paused, his expression turning cold as he looked at you. The gentle touch disappeared instantly, replaced with rough handling as he suddenly lifted you up off the floor. Your legs wrapped around his waist automatically as he carried you back to the table. He dropped you onto it harshly.

“I’ll make you remember who I was to you.”

His voice was low and dangerous as he stepped between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and spread them wide, pulling your pants and underwear down roughly. His hands moved to unbuckle his belt, eyes locked with yours coldly. “Jeonghan.. please.”

His cock pressed against your folds, but instead of pushing inside like you expected he’ll do, he clicked his tongue stopped. His hands gripped your thighs tightly before suddenly pushing them further apart and lowering his head between your legs instead.

He licked your slit that made your whole body shiver. His tongue moved slowly, deliberately, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for ages. He licked it over and over again before finally pushing his tongue deep inside you. He held you in place as he ate you out. “Ughh- mhmmm”

You gasped, your hips lifting off the table automatically as Jeonghan’s tongue pushed deep inside your core. It wasn’t gentle or romantic — it was hungry and frustrated, like he was angry that he’d been denied this pleasure for so long. You kept repeating to yourself, you don’t like this.

As you were about to reach your climax, Jeonghan suddenly pulled away, making you whimper in frustration as your fingers tightened in his hair. He looked up at you with a smirk, his face shiny with your arousal. “You’re saying please for what again?” he asked mockingly before standing up.

Jeonghan hovered over you, his fingers gently touching your folds but not moving any further. His eyes locked onto yours, watching as tears still streamed down your cheeks. He stayed like that for a moment, just staring at you intensely before finally speaking.

“Push me away now,” he whispered hoarsely, his thumb gently brushing over your clit without pressure. His self-control was slipping, seeing you like this — so vulnerable and beautiful. If you didn't push him away soon, he would lose it and fuck you right there. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

The moment your lips pressed against his, he lost all sense of reason. He kissed you back fiercely, aggressively pushing his tongue into your mouth as his hands gripped your face. His fingers immediately plunged inside you without warning, curling upwards to hit that spot that made you moan into his kiss.

You remained complaining, wanting to push him away, but your body rejected the strength. He answered Joshua’s call in the middle of him pounding in you. Who would not be scared?! “Stop complaining. I already ended the call before you even moaned,” Jeonghan murmured, thrusting into you harder as he threw your phone on the bed. “Joshua didn’t hear a thing.”

As if on cue, Jeonghan hit an especially sensitive spot inside you, making you arch your back and let out a loud, long moan. The table creaked even louder, the sound filling the room along with your moans.

“Sucks that the room is soundproof,” Jeonghan groaned, thrusting into you deeply. “I would want the whole neighbourhood to know my name” He gripped your hips tightly, making the table bounce loudly with each thrust, making dents on the wall. The position hit your G-spot perfectly with each snap of his hips. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, “Ahhh- Jeonghan! Right there.. Ahhhn”

“Is this what you want, hmm?” Jeonghan teased between thrusts, his voice low and husky. “Being kidnapped and fucked everyday by me?” He slowed his thrusts, swirling his hips to grind against your spot. Your cunt clenched tightly around him at the suggestion, making him laugh darkly.

“Damnit” He muttered, his thrusts growing quicker as your cunt tightened around him. “Your reactions are driving me crazy,” he growled, swirling his hips again to hit your sweet spot. “Do you squeeze like this when men kidnap you in your fantasies?”

Your moans turned into incoherent whimpers and cries as Jeonghan continued to tease and fuck you mercilessly. “Answer me,” he demanded, his hand reaching around to play with your clit roughly. “Do you imagine getting fucked by strangers every night?”

Both moans grew even louder and more desperate at the dirty talk, your slit squeezing him so tightly he thought his dick might get chopped off. “Fuck, you’re so tight” he groaned, imagining you having the fantasies. “You're into being forced and used, aren't you?”

“And if I say yes..?” Your heavy-lidded eyes, tear stains down your cheeks, and saliva dripping from your open mouth as you tried to form words was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. His hand slapped your clit, thumb pressing hard as he snapped “Answer me properly, sweetheart.” “UGH-! Yes.. yes”

Jeonghan smirked, his eyes darkening with lust as he reached under the drawer and pulled out a black blindfold. You immediately knew what he was planning, your eyes widening slightly as he leaned down to kiss you before placing the blindfold over your eyes.

He tightened the blindfold around your head, knowing exactly how much you hated darkness. He chuckled darkly as you immediately started to whimper and cry, your hands reaching out blindly as if searching for him. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, smirking against your lips. “You need to get used to darkness, sweetheart.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine. He knew how much this terrified you — the lack of sight, the unknown — and he was using it against you to heighten his own pleasure. His thrusts became harder and your tears came running down your cheek again.

He leaned back slightly, watching as tears streamed down your face, your body shook with sobs, having no eyesight with the blindfold covering your eyes. His cock throbbed inside you at the sight of your vulnerability. “Does this scare you?” he asked mockingly, knowing full well it did.

Jeonghan’s grip on your wrists tightened painfully as he began to fuck you in a fast pace, his hips slamming against yours with brutal force. “You’re so pathetic” he taunted, knowing his words would only make you cry harder.

He felt your body tensing up, your breath hitching as your orgasm built rapidly. Jeonghan smirked, knowing he was pushing you right to the edge. He slowed his thrusts slightly, wanting to draw out your pleasure without reaching his own climax just yet. “You coming, sweetheart?” You could only nod.

“Did I fucked you enough for you to lose your ability to speak, Y/N?” “Yes! Yes I’m coming.. I hate you- aghh”

Your orgasm hit you suddenly, your blindfolded state making everything feel more intense. You cried out loudly, your cunt clamping down around his cock as you came hard. Jeonghan groaned, loving how your terror made your orgasms even stronger, as you shake in his hold.

“Jeonghan.. jeonghan- hannie..” “Fuck” Jeonghan growled as you screamed his name over and over, completely lost in your orgasm. He growled more to the nickname that slipped your mouth. Your juices making his own release hover dangerously close. But he wasn't done with you yet.

As soon as your orgasm finished, he pulled out abruptly and flipped you onto your stomach. He lifted you easily, carrying you to the wall, pinning you against it with your face pressed into the cold surface and your ass tilted out towards him. Still completely blindfolded.

“Jeonghan..? I can’t see- AHH” Without warning, he slammed his hard cock back into your used, dripping cunt again. You screamed his name again as he began to pound into you mercilessly, your body bouncing off the wall with each brutal thrust. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto him as he fucked you standing up.

Jeonghan’s groans filled the room as he lost himself in the sensation of your tight cunt wrapped around him. He became completely non-verbal, his grunts and growls the only sounds escaping his lips as he fucked you harder and faster against the wall, reaching his high as well.

Your second orgasm struck without you noticing it as Jeonghan’s teeth sank into your shoulder. You screamed his name, your slit gripping his cock tightly as he finally reached his climax, mixing his hot cum with yours deep inside your womb. Am I even safe today..? “Why..? Ugh- inside..”

Still buried deep inside you, he held your body against the wall as both of your bodies shook from the intense orgasms. His hands moved to grip your hips tightly as he pulsed inside you, filling you even more. The blindfold remained, keeping you disoriented and vulnerable.

Suddenly, Jeonghan pulled out slightly before slamming back in one last time, pushing his remaining cum deeper inside you. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily against your neck before slowly pulling out completely. His cum mixed with yours began leaking out slightly as he held you upright against the wall.

Without a word, he slowly slid down your body, carrying your legs over his shoulders and pinning your hips even higher on the wall. He buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately diving into your messy slit to taste the mixed cum leaking out. He pushed it back inside you with his tongue, groaning at the taste of both of you.

“Fuckin- hmmm aghh” Your moans filled the room as his tongue still inside you, your cunt clenching around the flowing liquid. His breath was heavy and ragged against your sensitive flesh as he continued to lick and suck, keeping his cum trapped deep, sending more vibrations and heat in between your legs.

After thoroughly cleaning your folds with his tongue, Jeonghan suddenly stood up and threw you to a soft mattress, you assume it’s the bed, making you shriek as you were completely unaware of what’s happening. “Jeonghan..?” The room fell silent except for the creaking of the bed as he crawled over you, his thin figure caging you in.

“Only here, sweetheart,” he whispered against your ear, his face hovering just inches above yours. You could feel his breath on your skin and the weight of his body pressing down on you, but you still couldn’t see anything through the blindfold. His hands gripped your wrists above your head, pinning you down.

“Still can’t see a thing, can you?” he murmured, his hips shifting slightly. Before you could respond, he was pushing back inside your cum-filled cunt slowly, making you gasp. “Just admit, it’s making you more excited.” It is. Oh hell it is.

“Your little pussy is so messy right now.. so fucking full of my cum,” he groaned, pushing deeper until his balls slapped against your ass. “And here I am, filling it up even more.” He began to move, his length sliding in and out of your soaked folds, creating wet, sloppy noises.

“It hurts now-” You cried in overstimulation. You just came and now he’s fucking you again. “Shh, sweetheart.. just feel me,” Jeonghan whispered hoarsely as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. Your moans filled the room, “That's it- take my cock..”

“Do you feel that?” he growled, his fingers tightening around your wrists as he continued to pound into you. “Feels like your little pussy is getting even tighter” He broke off with a groan as he felt you start to clench around him, knowing exactly what was happening.

“Gonna make a fucking mess of the bed” he whispered against your ear, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic. “Go on..” He released one of your wrists to reach one of your breasts, playing at your nipple.

“Stop-” You wriggled beneath him, trying to make sense of the strong sensation in your lower belly. “Jeonghan! Sto- please” You whimpered, “I think.. I’m gonna pee- ahh! It feels like-” You tried to push him off you. “Oh my dear sweetheart.. that’s not pee. Shh.. you’re fine. Go on, my little squirter.”

Ignoring your pleas, Jeonghan continued to thrust and exchanged his fingers with his mouth on your nipple, pushing you more to reach your orgasm. “Scream my name, when you did so” he groaned, his hips bucking wildly against yours. “Squirt all over my fucking dick.”

Your body convulsed and a powerful jet of fluid gushed out of you, soaking the both of you and the bed beneath. “JEONGHAN- AGHHH UHH MHMM” You cried out in shock and embarrassment as more liquid followed the first, Jeonghan’s cock still buried deep inside you, triggering wave after wave of intense pleasure.

As your cunt continued to spasm and squirt around him, Jeonghan let out a deep groan and came hard inside you again. He kissed you fiercely as he tried to silence any sounds escaping from your mouth due to the overwhelming sensation of both of you orgasming together intensely.

Slowly pulling out of you, he carefully removed the blindfold. Your eyes fluttered open, still dilated and sensitive from the intense experience. You looked at him with a mix of post-orgasm haze and slight embarrassment, which only made him harder again. Those innocent eyes.. Fuck.

The world outside his hideout was silent again. Morning light began to creep through the cracks of the boarded windows, brushing faint gold over the floor. You were fast asleep, breath steady for the first time in days.

Jeonghan sat at the edge of the bed, shirt messy, eyes unfocused. He traced a hand through your hair and whispered something you didn’t hear. It sounded like a prayer. Across the city, Joshua’s office was alive with static. The faint buzz of the tracker Seokmin got from Joshua’s coworkers “Got it,” Seokmin said, leaning closer to the monitor. “Signal’s faint, but it’s moving again.”

Joshua straightened, the exhaustion in his eyes burning into focus. It’s been weeks of not being able to sleep “How far?” “An hour out of the city. Old industrial area,” Seokmin replied. “She must’ve turned the phone on again — or someone did.” Joshua said, completely aware who turned it on.. Jeonghan. But why? I would never understand that man.

Joshua grabbed his coat, already heading for the door. “Then we don’t wait. I’ll go, stay here, it's not safe.” Seokmin looked up. “You really think I’m not going with you? That’s my friend! My safety is not my priority right now!”

Joshua didn’t answer right away. He’s amused, those weeks of him being relentless, Seokmin didn’t leave his office, if Joshua’s determined to find you, Seokmin’s thrice. “It’s dangerous,” he said finally. “You’re putting yourself in danger” “Like I didn’t before after what you did to her six years ago.”

The static from the tracker grew louder — a slow, pulsing beat. And for the first time, it wasn’t just noise. It was a countdown. Joshua then let Seokmin ride his car.

—

The hideout was silent when Joshua and Seokmin arrived. The old warehouse loomed over the pier, half-eaten by rust and fog. Only one dim light flickered through a narrow window — a weak pulse of life inside a dead building.

Joshua raised a hand, signaling Seokmin to stay close. The heavy door creaked open with a long metallic groan. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the concrete floor as they entered, flashlights sweeping across the room. There’s another room inside, when they opened it, the room looked completely normal. Almost too normal and warm. Then they saw her.

You were there — lying on a narrow bed, wrapped in a blanket. Peaceful. Breathing evenly. Not a single mark on your skin. Seokmin froze, disbelief flashing across his face before he bolted forward. “Y/N!”

He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You’re okay.. you’re really okay.” His voice cracked. “God, I thought-” He couldn’t finish, tears spilling freely as he pressed your hand to his forehead.

Joshua stayed outside. His gun was drawn, his eyes sweeping the shadows. The silence wasn’t right. He could feel someone watching. Then, from the far corner of the room, a voice — soft, quiet, almost too calm.

“She’s safe.”

Joshua spun, gun raised, but stopped. Jeonghan stood in the doorway leading to another room, his hands slightly raised, no weapon in sight. The dim light softened the sharpness of his features — he looked exhausted, pale, and strangely at peace. “She needs rest,” Jeonghan said quietly. “Don’t wake her, just carry her back.”

“Don’t go near her,” Joshua said, keeping his aim steady. Jeonghan only smiled faintly. “You won’t need that.” His eyes flicked to the gun, then back to Joshua’s face. “If I wanted to hurt her, I would’ve done it long before you got here, I thought you’re the smart one between us.”

Joshua froze. “Why.. why did you do this?” Jeonghan exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward you. “You might not remember me Shua-” “I do Han.” Now it’s Jeonghan’s time to freeze, eyes widened as he looked at Joshua again.

“You were my partner for how many years, do you really don’t have that faith in me to think I’ve forgotten about you. You quit years ago and left me all alone, thinking you died. It ate me alive Han! Guilt ate me up..” Joshua held his gun down and closed his eyes for a minute.

Jeonghan was utterly shocked, especially when Seokmin came out of the room, holding you, your arms on his shoulders, completely awake. “I’m asking you why?” Joshua repeated his question, emphasising it word by word.

“Because she’s safer now than she’s ever been. They won’t find her again. They can’t. Not after what I’ve done.” Jeonghan said, looking directly at you. Joshua frowned. “What does that mean? What bullshit are you saying this time?!”

But Jeonghan only gave him a small, tired smile — the kind that looked like surrender. “Just make sure she remembers me.. Shua.” A cold gust blew through the open doorway. When Joshua turned his head to glance at Seokmin for a second — Jeonghan was gone.

—

Your body ached, heavy, sore, every muscle complaining with every small movement. The bandages around your arm tugged when you tried to sit up. The room was familiar. A couch. Some blankets. A half-folded laundry basket in the corner. Seokmin’s place.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Seokmin said quickly, appearing from the kitchen with a steaming mug. His voice was gentle, softer than usual — the kind of tone people use when they’re afraid you might break. “You’re still recovering. Here.” He set the mug beside you, carefully adjusting the blanket over your legs. His fingers lingered for a second too long — maybe to make sure you were really there.

You gave a faint smile. “Thanks, Seok.” He nodded, avoiding your eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You scared us,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “You have no idea what it was like! This is the second time I don’t want to lose y-” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together, swallowing hard.

Before you could say anything, another voice broke the quiet. “She needs rest, Min.” Joshua stood near the doorway, his posture stiff, arms crossed. The shadows under his eyes were darker than you remembered. He looked older — worn in the way only guilt could age someone.

Seokmin glanced at him, then back at you. “I’ll get some soup ready.” He left quietly, closing the door behind him.

You sat there for a while, listening to the rain. It had been raining for weeks. As if the world couldn’t stop grieving. Joshua didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared at the floor, jaw clenched, his thoughts somewhere you couldn’t reach. Finally, you whispered, “He didn’t hurt me.”

Joshua’s head lifted slightly, though his face remained unreadable. “I know.” You studied him — the way his hand twitched at his side, the tension that never left his shoulders. “You knew him,” you said carefully. “Jeonghan.”

His silence was answer enough. “He told me.. but I don’t understand,” you continued softly. “Why did it feel like he cared? Even when he was-” You stopped, remembering the way Jeonghan’s voice trembled when he said your name. “What was he to you?”

Joshua exhaled through his nose — a slow, tired sound that carried years’ worth of ghosts. “He was my partner,” he said quietly. “Six years ago. Before everything went to hell.” You blinked. “Partner?”

“In the network,” he explained, voice low and steady. “I handled papers. He handled guns. We were.. close. Too close, maybe. Until one day, he vanished. No trace. Everyone thought he was dead. I thought he was dead.” His jaw tightened. “We were working a high-risk case at the time. I thought I lost him because of me.”

He paused, his fingers curling into a fist. “I blamed myself. Every mission after that, every failure, every death — I told myself it was because I wasn’t enough to save him.. to save you.” You hesitated, throat tightening, not fully understanding what he meant. “And me?”

Joshua finally looked up, his eyes heavy. “You were part of something bigger, long before you knew it,” he said quietly. “You’re.. part of our enemy.”

Your breath hitched. “What?” His eyes flickered — not cruel, but haunted. “You and Jeonghan.. both of you were friends. But you betrayed him.”

“Next time.. we can be more than friends,” you said, voice low and cold. You were standing on a rooftop, the wind biting through your jacket, gun raised at Jeonghan’s head. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His eyes were steady, almost peaceful.

You smirked, finger tightening on the trigger. But before you could fire, a shot rang out. Your body jerked. Pain exploded through your shoulder — burning, sharp.

You looked down. Blood. Your blood. Ahh.. so I’m the one who got shot. Jeonghan’s expression shattered. Fear. Desperation. He screamed your name — once, broken and raw — before everything went dark.

And the last thing you saw before collapsing was the man holding the gun. Jeonghan’s partner, Joshua.

Your breath hitched as the memory slammed into you. “That’s why he hated me,” Joshua murmured, voice trembling now, “because I almost killed you.” You stared at him, heart aching, the pieces finally fitting together in all the wrong ways.

“Jeonghan always believed in saving one person, even if it meant losing everything else,” Joshua continued softly. “That person was you.” The room was quiet for a long time. The rain had softened to a drizzle, the scent of soup drifting from the kitchen.

You swallowed hard. “That’s not what he told me.” Joshua’s eyes darkened. “He lied, Y/N. You survived but lost your memories. Do you really think he’d let you remember what you were supposed to do to him? He knows you better than anyone. He knew you’d run.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Joshua looked away, eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. “I helped you because I knew ever since the beginning. He’s not the same Jeonghan we used to know. I never wanted to aim the gun at you before, but I had to stop you from pulling the trigger on him.”

He drew a long breath. “I wanted you to live normally.. maybe then, my guilt wouldn’t eat me alive. But him?” His voice cracked, quiet but final.

“He’s obsessed. Too much. He changed ever since what happened and I don’t want you to be in danger again.”

You shifted your position, hugged your knees to your chest, mind spinning. “Then.. who’s ‘them’? Who is Jeonghan saving me from?” Your voice was small, tentative, but the question burned in your chest.

Joshua moved forward, sat beside you, hands clasped tightly. His gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the apartment, but the weight in his words made the room shrink around you. “I don’t know.. himself? Me?,” he said, voice low but steady. He let out a short, bitter laugh, almost hollow. “Y/N.. we dismantled your organisation years ago. After Jeonghan left, you’ve been safe. You were always safe.”

You blinked, confusion and disbelief tangling inside you. “Then why?” “I was the one who kept checking on you, in the hospital, long after Seokmin thought everything was fine,” Joshua continued, jaw tight. “I made sure someone was there if you needed me. I was the one who told Wonwoo, Seokmin’s brother, to call me, knowing you’d need protection — not from anyone else, but from him.”

His eyes finally met yours, intense and raw. “He’s not protecting you. He’s controlling you.”

The words hit you like ice. For a moment, silence filled the room. Rain tapped against the windows, soft and relentless, and the realisation began to settle: everything Jeonghan had done — every act of ‘care,’ every whispered warning — had been a cage, and you had been trapped inside it without even knowing.

“Find him.” You said that made Joshua flinch a little, not believing what you just said. You look at his eyes and repeat what you said, “find him, Joshua please. I need to talk to him.”

The door slammed behind Jeonghan with a heavy thud. Joshua’s coworkers had restrained him, forcing him into a stark, fluorescent-lit room — one of those cold, impersonal interrogation rooms that smelled faintly of bleach and authority.

Jeonghan thrashed against the cuffs, eyes blazing with fury. “Didn’t I tell you? I’d leave you all alone! Just leave me alone too?!” His voice was sharp, desperate, tinged with a dangerous edge that made the room seem smaller, hotter. Joshua stayed calm, unflinching. “I know you’ll never leave her alone,” he said quietly, almost coldly.

A smirk curved Jeonghan’s lips, dark and knowing, as he chuckled. The tension in the room thickened. He straightened, his movements deliberate, cuffed hands held behind him, and began pacing toward Joshua. “You smarty.. good shoes,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ve always been.”

Joshua’s gaze remained steady, but his jaw tightened slightly. There was history there — unspoken words and old wounds — and Jeonghan could feel it like a pulse.

Then the smirk faltered. His dark eyes widened slightly as they landed on you, standing at the doorway. Time seemed to stall. Joshua stepped back, nodding briefly, giving you space.

Jeonghan froze mid-step. The sound of your quiet breathing filled the room. You crossed the floor slowly, the faintest click of your shoes on the tile echoing like a heartbeat. “Aren’t you gonna sit?” you asked softly, tilting your head, calm but pointed.

For the first time in hours, Jeonghan’s smirk wavered. He glanced at the cold chair in the corner, then back at you, as if measuring whether this moment could ever be safe or if it had already passed. “Jeonghan, sit.” And he did.

The chair scraped lightly against the floor as Jeonghan finally sat, hands cuffed behind him, the table creating a careful distance between you. Silence hung thick, heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

Finally, he broke it, voice low, hesitant. “How are you?” You didn’t answer. He leaned forward slightly, the faintest tremor betraying him. “Did Joshua hurt you? Are yo-”

“Joshua treated me better than how you did,” you cut him off, your words calm, measured. His jaw clenched, sharp lines forming on his face as he looked away, frustration and something darker simmering just beneath his skin. I need to see first if you’re gonna continue lying on my face.

I need to know if the Jeonghan before is still in you.

“Jeonghan.. can I ask?” you began, voice quiet but steady. He lifted his gaze to you, the storm in his eyes giving way to something raw. “Who am I?”

The truth spilled from him, slow and unguarded. He told you everything — why he stalked you, why he abducted you, why he did everything. He admitted it all, confessing that every action had been fueled by fear of losing you again. That he had wanted to give you a choice, to let you live without him if you wished. “Leave me alone, if you want, sweetheart.”

He is. Hannie is still there.

You let the weight of his words sink in, then surprised him with a quiet, sharp declaration “My memories.. they came back, weeks after Joshua found you.” For a moment, the room felt colder, the light harsher, his breath caught in his throat. Then, something broke in him. He leaned forward, voice trembling, tears starting to fall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken and raw, each word heavy with guilt.

“I’m so sorry.. I’m sorry, Y/N. God.. I’m so sorry.” You stood, heart aching at the sight of him like this, and moved closer, hands lifting to cup his face. His tears kept coming, hot and unrelenting, and he didn’t stop, didn’t try to pull away. “Why are you crying?” you asked softly, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks.

“Because- because you were better off not remembering your dark past,” he choked out. “But my selfish acts.. only brought you back. I- I failed you.”

“Hey.. aren’t I supposed to be angry at Shua and not at you?” He only looked at you, with tears on his eyes. “I already forgiven Shua, Jeonghan.. you should too.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his confession pressing against your ribs. “You made me feel safe and terrified at the same time,” you murmured. “That’s what love looks like when you’ve forgotten how to be human,” he replied, voice shaking, tears spilling freely.

“Then learn again.. with me,” you whispered, leaning closer.

You pressed your palms firmly against his cheeks, searching his eyes for the boy you remembered, the man he had been — flawed, brave, obsessive, but fiercely yours. Slowly, you brought your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, a question, a bridge. Then it deepened, desperate and tender, as if to make up for all the time, all the fear, all the distance. His tears never stopped, and neither did your embrace.

In that moment, the world outside — the chase, the danger, the past — melted away. There was only him. Only you. Only the fragile, broken, beautiful thread of love that had somehow survived everything.

Even though his hands are cuffed at his back, you could feel how he never stopped the kiss and only wants to deepen it more, not wanting to feel the air if that means his lips being pulled away from yours. You laughed, softly, and pulled away, making his eyes, lingered on yours, confused and betrayed.

“I don’t think continuing this here is a good thing.”

“Why..?”

“There are cameras, Jeonghan.”

You looked at him, pressed your lips again, and repeated what you said that made him cry even more.

“There are cameras, hon.. my Hannie.”

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ If you’re reading this — thank you so much for reading!! likes and reblogs are super appreciated ❤️ I wrote this one so fast hahaha it’s funny because this plot has been stuck in my head for months already. anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!! stay tuned for the next one, kinktober’s almost ending :((

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar @minghaooswife

If you’d like to be part of my permanent taglist, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask!! I’d love to include you ❤️

[nchonny]

this is literally the best thing i've ever read in fucking YEARS.

[nightshao]

thank you so much!! ❤️

[nightshao]

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Wen Junhui x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ When you inherits an estate, you expects creaking floors and dust — not a ghost who swears you’re his wife. The house breathes with memories that aren’t yours, and every night, a soft voice whispers your name. Jun isn’t frightening; he’s heartbreakingly gentle, waiting for a love you've forgotten.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Angst, Ghost x Human, Dark Romance, Mention of Past Lives, Slow burn (I think??), Tragic Romance, Love beyond Death, “You forgot me but I never did” type of shit, Porn w/ Plot (and yes, YOU CAN SKIP the sex scene if not comfortable with the smut warnings)

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 12.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (both f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, neck grab, restraining hands, sensory description, necromancy, wax play, temperature play, soft dominance, implied somnophilia, body worship (jun be obsessed hahaha), dirty talk, ghost sex, dom! jun, sub! reader, crying from pleasure and pain, dacryphilia, loud moans (for both of them), possessiveness, creampie, clit stimulation

🎧 ➙ No sense by Justin Bieber ⋮ Fetish by Selena Gomez ⋮ Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ ahh I adore this story so much!! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m usually known for my angst works, so I guess this is my moment to shine hahaha. please don’t hesitate to click out or skip the explicit parts if they make you uncomfortable — this one gets a little intense with the kinktober themes 😭 anyways, reblogs (w/ or w/o tags) are always appreciated. love you lots!!

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The house was older than your name.

It stood past the last turn of the countryside road, half-swallowed by the forest, where even the birds refused to sing. The lawyer had given you the address over a call that sounded static, voice clipped, rushed — like he didn’t want to linger on the topic too long.

“An inheritance, Miss L/N,” he’d said. “A private estate. Been untouched for years. You’re the last living relative.” “Relative of who?” you’d asked. “Of the previous owner, Miss Wen.. if I remember correctly. Distant, very distant. She had no direct heirs. You might want to- ah -look through the documents yourself.”

The call ended before you could ask more.

Now, standing at the foot of the property, suitcase in hand, you realised how words could never have prepared you for this.

It was enormous, but not in the modern sense. The house was alive in its decay — a mansion of forgotten gold and black wood, wrapped in ivy that crawled like veins up the cracked stone. The windows glowed faintly amber, reflecting the dying sun. Even the wind that brushed against your skin felt heavy with something unsaid.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, pushing the rusted gates open. “Creepy, but not.. haunted. Hopefully.”

Your footsteps echoed across the gravel path leading up to the grand doors. Each step felt like trespassing on someone’s memory. When you finally pushed the door open, it didn’t screech or fight you like an old hinge should — it sighed, like the house itself was breathing you in.

The first thing that hit you was the smell — grass and rain, faint but fresh, like someone had opened a window minutes ago. The foyer stretched out before you, the chandelier above still glittering under years of dust. Paintings lined the walls. Not landscapes, not still lifes — just portraits. Of the same man.

You paused in front of one. He was handsome in a way that felt wrong for being immortalised in oil paint — sharp jaw, dark, tousled hair that falls around his neck in soft layers, eyes are gentle yet piercing. Scattered across his skin are small, striking moles — near his lips, another on his cheek, and gracing his forehead — as if even the universe couldn’t resist marking beauty where it found it.

Someone had painted him with devotion. You leaned closer. “Whoever you were,” you whispered, “you were definitely the favourite.”

The next few hours passed in quiet exploration. Every room was preserved — sheets draped over furniture, candles that looked half-burned but untouched by time, books still open mid-page on desks. It was eerie, yes, but also intimate. Like someone had just stepped out of the room and would return any minute.

By dusk, exhaustion caught up with you. You found the master bedroom on the second floor — and stopped cold. It was clean. No dust. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets turned down as though waiting. There was even a small vase by the window, a single white rose standing tall in it. You frowned.

“Someone’s been here,” you murmured. Then, louder, calling out just in case, “Hello? Is anyone-?” Silence. Except the faint hum of wind through the old vents. You hesitated, then sighed. “Guess I’ll just lock the door.”

The bed was too soft. Too inviting. You sat down anyway. The pillow smelled faintly of cedar and musk, a scent that didn’t belong to you. Still, the fatigue was pulling you under, and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

—

A breath brushed your neck. So real, so warm, it made every hair on your body stand on end. “You came back.” You bolted upright, eyes scanning the room. “Who’s there?” Nothing. Only the curtains swaying even though the windows were closed.

Your heart hammered as you reached for your phone flashlight. Its glow hit the mirror across the room — and froze you in place. In the reflection, someone stood behind you. A man, tall and pale, dressed in white collared shirt, neckline framing a single pearl necklace that adds a delicate contrast to his look.

Over it, he wears a black tweed jacket interwoven with silver threads, catching light in subtle glints. His expression wasn’t threatening. If anything, he looked relieved. He smiled softly. “You shouldn’t be afraid. I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned around. Empty. Your throat felt dry. “I’m-” You laughed weakly to yourself, trying to shake it off. “definitely calling the real estate agent tomorrow.”

You climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket tightly around your shoulders. But your body refused to relax. When your breathing finally steadied, you noticed something that made your pulse skip again. Your dress.

It had slipped halfway off your shoulder, your collarbone bare. And on your skin, faint as breath, was the outline of a handprint. You stared at it until your eyes blurred, until the scent of roses filled the air, until sleep pulled you back into the dark.

And somewhere, between waking and dreaming, you heard him whisper again — closer this time, almost tender “I’m glad you’re back, Wen Y/N.”

Morning came gently — too gently for an abandoned place. The light that poured through the curtains was soft and gold, catching the dust in the air like glitter. You sat up slowly, your body still wrapped in that hazy, half-remembered dream. There was no handprint now. No scent of smoke or roses. Just quiet.

“Okay,” you whispered, rubbing your eyes. “Maybe I just freaked myself out.” You checked your phone. Now we’re talking. I can definitely live here, there's a signal. It showed the time, 7:43 a.m. You must’ve slept like a rock.

After washing up with the little water that still ran in the bathroom sink, you wandered downstairs. The house looked different in daylight — less ominous, more tragically beautiful. Every surface was layered with dust except for a few areas: the stairs’ rail, the main hallway, the parlour table. Like someone had constantly wiped them.

You knelt beside one of the portraits in the living room and dusted it gently with your sleeve. The man’s painted gaze met yours again, unblinking and patient. His eyes were dark brown, almost gold under the varnish.

There were at least eight portraits in the entire house, all of him. Each painted a little differently: one in uniform, another in casual robes, another holding a book. You moved to the last one by the fireplace — this time, he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood beside him. The artist hadn’t captured her face clearly, but she wore a white dress and veil, hand resting delicately on the man’s arm. A wedding portrait. You tilted your head, curiosity pricking at you. “So.. you were married,” you murmured, brushing the edge of the frame. “And I’m guessing your wife didn’t inherit the place. Lucky me.”

You took a step back, hands on your hips. The house was huge, but not unmanageable. You could make it feel like home again. So you started cleaning.

At first, it was just idle — opening windows, letting air in, humming faintly under your breath. But then something strange happened. The longer you worked, the more you noticed subtle traces of order that weren’t yours: beds already made, a vase refilled with white roses, curtains tied back differently. Someone — or something — had been maintaining this house all along.

You shook your head, deciding to distract yourself before your imagination spiraled like last night. Grabbing your phone, you opened your messages to message your best friend.

Y/N: guess who inherited a horror movie set 😭

Hao 😈: LMAOOO don’t tell me it’s that creepy old mansion your mom mentioned??

Y/N: yeah. the one with zero neighbors and 800 ghosts per square meter

Hao 😈: pls send pics 😭😭

Y/N: hold up

You snapped a few photos: the cracked chandelier, the grand staircase, one of the portraits — you didn’t even realise until later that it was the wedding one.

Y/N: okay ngl it’s pretty. like victorian pretty. you should come here.

Hao 😈: looks like somewhere a hot ghost would haunt.

Y/N: stop! 😭😭

Hao 😈: no bc imagine waking up w/ a ghost husband like “good morning my bride” 💀

Y/N: STOP IT HAO I SWEAR I’LL MOVE OUT

Hao 😈: u say that but u also said ur into tragic romance when bored soooo 👀

You laughed out loud, the sound echoing across the empty hall.

Y/N: fine. if a ghost husband appears i’ll let u know so u can write my obituary.

Hao 😈: deal

You pocketed your phone, still smiling. The house felt a little less lonely now. By afternoon, sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, scattering coloured light on the floor. You carried an armful of old books back to the library and froze when you saw one already open on the table — one you knew you hadn’t touched.

Its pages were lined with elegant handwriting. You could barely read the faded ink, but you caught one phrase clearly underlined: “Bound beyond death, by name and vow.” A chill ran down your arms. You shut the book gently, heart thudding. “Okay.. enough cleaning for today.”

Outside, the wind had stopped entirely. The forest was silent. The only sound left in the house was your breathing — and somewhere, faintly, a low hum. Like someone singing through the walls.

The house was quiet that night. Too quiet.

You settled at the desk with your laptop, your only source of light a small lamp you’d brought from your old apartment. The rest of the room lay in shadows, the wallpaper peeling faintly in the corners as if the air itself had been holding its breath for years.

You cracked your knuckles, muttering, “Okay. Chapter sixty-three. Let’s do this.” The blinking cursor greeted you like an old friend.

Your book — To Breathe Again — had been a year in the making, and your editor had been hounding you for pages. The irony of working on a novel about necromancy wasn’t lost on you. You even laughed about it when you messaged Minghao earlier those years.

Y/N: if i start writing ghost love stories don’t pick me up, i’m doing the right thing

Hao 😈: u kinky mf

Y/N: shut up 😒

Hao 😈: ok but if u get possessed can u at least ask the ghost to edit my thesis

You shook your head, smiling to yourself before getting back to work. Hours passed unnoticed, the rhythm of typing filling the silence like a heartbeat. Sometimes you swore you could hear faint footsteps pacing the hallway — the kind that made the wooden floor groan softly, like memory itself stretching awake. Every time you paused to listen, the sound stopped.

Around 2 a.m., you leaned back in your chair and sighed. “One more paragraph,” you told yourself. But the words on the screen blurred together, and your head eventually dipped forward. You must’ve dozed off right there at the desk.

When you woke, it was morning again. The sun slanted through the tall windows, warm on your face. You blinked against the light, you woke up in the bed “ahm.. did I sleep walk here last night?” you mumbled, stretching your arms.

But your body felt sore in a way that didn’t make sense — like you’d been tossing in bed for hours, muscles overworked and trembling faintly. Your nightgown clung to your skin, a little too loose at the collar and ends almost reaching your hips.

You frowned, rubbing your eyes. It hurts. That’s when you noticed your laptop. The document you’d been writing was still open — but your last sentence had changed. Instead of “She pressed her hand against the cold stone altar..” the words now read:

She pressed her hand against the warmth of his chest and whispered, “I’m home.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t remember typing that. And yet.. the phrasing sounded exactly like something you would write. You closed the laptop slowly, the faint scent of something — cedar, musk, and roses — lingering in the air, as if someone had been beside you all night, breathing close enough to touch.

The smell of sizzling butter filled the kitchen, the sound of eggs hitting the pan soft and rhythmic. Sunlight pooled faintly through the old lace curtains, dust swirling in golden ribbons. You could almost pretend the house wasn’t haunted — that it was just another quiet morning.

Almost.

You rolled your shoulders, wincing. There was still a deep, dull ache running through your muscles, especially between your thighs. “Did I- sleep weird?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. You brushed off the thought with a nervous laugh and reached for the salt.

It must’ve been another one of those dreams. The kind that felt too real, too heavy. You remembered flashes — pale fingers tracing your skin, a whisper against your ear. The dream man’s touch had been so vivid that your body still remembered the heat. You’d seen his face this time too, clear and unblurred, framed by soft candlelight.

And it wasn’t just any face.

Your gaze drifted across the kitchen, toward the hallway where the portraits hung — the ones you’d noticed. You froze, spatula hovering midair.

The reflection in the hallway mirror caught him perfectly — the same slanted eyes, the same mouth curved like a secret. You blinked, once, twice, stepping closer to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks.

It was him.

The man from your dreams.

Your stomach dropped, pulse quickening in your throat. He’d been here all along, hanging silently in those frames, watching you from the moment you arrived.

You forced a shaky laugh, brushing stray hair from your face. “Okay. Creepy coincidence. It’s just- just the power of suggestion, right?” you told yourself, trying to sound convinced. “You saw the portrait before bed, your brain mashed it into a dream. Simple.”

The portrait didn’t answer. Behind you, the stove hissed. And for the briefest moment — just before you turned off the heat — you thought you heard a low voice whisper near your ear, soft and familiar “Good morning, my bride.”

You froze mid-breath.. again, every hair on your neck standing up. The voice was right there. Close enough that you could feel the faintest whisper of air brush past your ear. Your body reacted before your brain did.

“WHAT THE!” You spun around with the frying spatula raised like a weapon, egg still clinging to the edge. “WHO’S THERE?! I SWEAR I’LL- I’LL FLIP YOU TO HELL!!”

“Please don’t,” came a calm, almost amused voice from somewhere behind you. It wasn’t echoing, wasn’t hollow — it sounded real. Too real. “You’ll stain the walls with yolk, and I quite like our kitchen.”

Your eyes darting around the empty room. No one. Nothing. Just the faint sound of your pan still sizzling. Your heart hammered against your ribs. “Who- who said that?” Silence. Then, softly: “Jun.”

You blinked. “Jun..? What? Huh- ha?!” A small pause, then a low hum that almost sounded like a chuckle. “So you can hear me. That’s good.”

Your grip tightened on the spatula. “Okay. Either I’m losing it, or I’m being haunted by a polite ghost who cares about kitchen hygiene.” “Haunted?” Jun sounded genuinely offended. “That’s a rather cruel word for a husband, don’t you think?”

You gawked at the air. “Excuse me- husband?!” “Yes.” His tone softened, almost fond. “You’ve been wearing my ring.” You glanced down — and nearly dropped the spatula. On your left hand, glinting faintly in the sunlight, was a thin silver band. You had no idea when it got there.

“Oh hell no,” you whispered, yanking it off. “This is not happening.” Jun’s laugh was gentle, teasing. “You always say that. I miss hearing from you.”

“What- no, no, no! Don’t gaslight me, Casper!” “That’s not my name.” “I don’t care!” you shouted at the air. “You-! Get out of my house! Out! Whatever supernatural lease you think you have here, it’s over!”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” he said lightly. “This house is also mine.. and to you.” You dragged a hand down your face, spatula still clutched tight. “Great. Fantastic. I move into a cursed house, and my new roommate is a ghost husband with boundary issues.”

There was a low, almost bashful chuckle. “You weren’t complaining last night.” You froze, eyes wide. “Excuse me?” But the voice didn’t answer this time — just a faint, amused hum that faded into the creak of the old walls.

You pointed the spatula at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare ghost-laugh at me, Jun!” Somewhere, you swore you heard the faintest echo of a grin in his voice, that made you drop your spatula “You’re cute when you’re angry, my bride.”

—

You sat at the kitchen counter, laptop open, breakfast cold. The spatula still lay on the floor where you’d dropped it mid-crisis. Your phone buzzed beside your plate. You snatched it up like a lifeline.

[Group chat: “Emergency Life Updates (aka Therapy)]

Y/N: besties i think my house is haunted

Hao 😈: LMAOOOO it’s been 3 days, that’s a record. what happened suddenly??

Y/N: some man’s voice called me his wife while i was making eggs

Min 😵‍💫: ..was he hot at least???

Y/N: I DON’T KNOW I DIDN’T EVEN SEE HIM

Min 😵‍💫: so u married a ghost sight unseen 💀 bold of u

Y/N: IM NOT MARRIED

Hao 😈: sure kinky mf who’s writing a novel exactly with that plot, i think u manifested it loll

Y/N: also i think he’s a victorian ghost level polite. kept saying “my bride” like bro calm down

Min 😵‍💫: LMFAO STOPPPP this is going in my notes. “haunted by horny regency ghost”

Y/N: NO 😭😭

Hao 😈: did u check the portraits u sent me? maybe he’s one of those men 👀

Y/N: that’s the thing. IT’S HIM.

Hao 😈: oh.

Min 😵‍💫: …babe.

Hao 😈: are u sure ur not just having like, a super vivid lucid dream? u do write romance for a living.

Y/N: im literally wide awake and my ghost just argued with me about kitchen cleanliness

Hao 😈: sounds husband material to me. when’s the wedding??

Min 😵‍💫: more like when was the wedding LMAOOO

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why are my friends like this,” you muttered aloud. Why is Mingyu missing out of all times.. Seokmin and Minghao are no help. From somewhere down the hall, a familiar voice replied, low and teasing, “Are you in distress?”

You shrieked and nearly dropped your phone. “HAO HE’S HERE AGAIN.”

Hao 😈: ok listen before u start performing an exorcism, record it. i want receipts.

Y/N: u want me to RECORD THE DEMON?

Hao 😈: for science.

Y/N: i hate you.

You peeked over your shoulder, heart pounding. “Jun?” “I’m here,” came the smooth reply, closer now. “You don’t need to shout, my love.” You stiffened. “Don’t call me that!” “I can’t,” he said softly, like it was the saddest truth in the world. “You’re all I have left.”

The words hung in the air, so gentle it almost made you forget the absurdity of the moment. Almost. You typed one last message with shaky fingers.

Y/N: ok yeah maybe the ghost husband is kinda sad and not bad

Min 😵‍💫: so u admit he’s hot

Y/N: BLOCKED.

You set your phone down, exhaling deeply. “Okay.. Jun,” you muttered, scanning the empty room. “If we’re really doing this ghost tenant thing, why are you still here?” A quiet laugh brushed your ear like wind.

“Devotion. It ties me to the house.. to you.” You groaned. “Oh my god. He’s poetic too.”

It started the same way it had the last two nights. The soft creak of floorboards. The faint shift of weight on the mattress. The air cooling around you as if someone had opened a window. You didn’t move this time.

“Jun,” you whispered into the dark. “You’re here again, aren’t you?” Silence, then “I always am.” His voice came from beside you, smooth as velvet, threaded with something ancient. “You sleep so restlessly when I’m not.” “I sleep restlessly because there’s a ghost in my bed,” you muttered, sitting up halfway.

“Do you even.. sleep?” He chuckled, the sound low and fond. “No. Not anymore.” You exhaled through your nose, squinting into the faint light spilling through the curtains. “Okay, let’s try this again. Who are you, Jun?”

“I’ve told you,” he said gently. “I am your husband.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer. A name and a marital claim don’t explain why I wake up sore, by the way.” A pause. His voice softened, almost guilty. “I haven’t touched you without your consent.”

You arched a brow toward the darkness. “Really? Because my sore thighs say otherwise.” “I swear it.” His tone deepened, steady and earnest. “Your body aches from something else — the remnants of the bond. The house.. it remembers. And through it, so does your body.”

“The house remembers?” you repeated, half a scoff, half a laugh. “Jun, that’s not- that’s not even science. That’s..” “Magic,” he finished for you, quiet but unyielding.

You stared at the shadows for a long moment. “You expect me to believe that I’m some reincarnated bride living in a haunted love nest?” “I don’t expect you to believe,” he murmured. “Only to listen.”

Your throat tightened — something about the way he said it felt real. Too real. You tried to sound casual. “Then why are you here? Why can’t you just.. move on? Find peace, cross the afterlife, whatever ghosts are supposed to do.”

A silence. Then the faintest brush of a cold fingertip against your wrist — hesitant, reverent. “Because my peace was buried with you.” You froze. “You’ve got the wrong girl,” you whispered, voice trembling despite yourself.

“Perhaps,” Jun said softly. “But tell me, why do you wake up with my name on your lips?” You blinked, stunned. “I- I don’t.” “You do,” he said simply. There was no arrogance in it, only sorrow.

You fell quiet for a moment, staring at the darkness that felt far too alive. “You really didn’t do anything?” “No,” he said, and this time his voice was gentle enough to make you believe him. “Only kissed you when you were dreaming. You looked so lonely.”

Your heart squeezed. “That’s still technically not consent.” He laughed quietly, the sound curling through the air like smoke. “Then I’ll ask properly next time.”

You sighed, lying back down. “There’s not going to be a next time.” “I said that once too,” he murmured. You pulled the blanket over your face, trying to hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic for someone dead.”

“I was dramatic before I died,” he countered, teasing now. “You said you liked it.” You turned to where you thought he was, whispering, “You talk too much.” “And you listen too little.”

Somewhere between his chuckle and your quiet hum of annoyance, your eyes slipped closed. The bed dipped slightly, just enough for you to feel the outline of someone lying beside you. And though you told yourself you didn’t believe in ghosts, you still whispered, just before sleep took you,

“Goodnight, Jun.” A hand — cold but gentle — brushed your hair back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

—

You pushed the front door open with your shoulder, grocery bags cutting into your fingers, sunlight spilling in behind you.

“Jun!” you called out, voice echoing across the empty living room. “I was literally talking to you outside for ten minutes simply about if you do eat or not, and then I realised-” You paused dramatically, setting the bags down on the counter. “You weren’t even there!”

There was a soft hum from somewhere near the hallway — warm, amused. “Why are you talking to yourself outside?” Jun said. You glared toward the voice. “Don’t turn this on me. The delivery guy looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I thought you’re with me. This past few weeks, you never leave me alone”

He chuckled quietly, the sound wrapping around you. “Would you rather I scare other people half to death? Also, I can’t help you outside anyway”

You huffed, unpacking the paper bags. “Still. You could’ve… I don’t know. Come with me? You never go out.” There was a pause — not defensive, just words. “I can’t,” he said simply. Your hands stilled on a carton of milk. “Can’t?”

“The house is my boundary,” he explained. “My anchor. I’m bound here — by the curse, by memory, by you. Step beyond the threshold and I start to fade.” You turned toward the sound, heart softening. “That’s awful.”

“It’s tolerable,” he murmured. “I was alone here for so long before you came.” Your chest tightened. “Jun..” He spoke again, light but wistful. “Besides, I like it here. You fill the rooms with noise and scent and warmth. It’s almost enough to feel alive again.”

You rolled your eyes — to hide the sudden pang of emotion. “You sound like a bad poem.” “I was a bad poet once,” he teased. “You threw my drafts into the fire.” You froze mid-unpacking. “What?” He laughed, low and delighted. “Ah — perhaps that was another life.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.” “I missed being called that,” he said softly.

The quiet after that settled gently, like a comfortable silence between old friends, or husband and wife..? You busied yourself with arranging the vegetables, pretending you didn’t notice the way the air thickened slightly around you — Jun standing close, unseen but undeniably there.

“Hey,” you said after a moment. “If you can’t go out.. what do you do all day when I’m gone?” “I watch,” he said simply. “Creepy.” “Protectively,” he amended, amused. “I walk through the halls. Listen to the wind. Sometimes I read over your shoulder when you’re writing.”

You shot a look toward the dark corner of the kitchen. “That’s definitely creepy.” “Then perhaps,” he said, voice warm with laughter, “I’ll keep doing it.” You couldn’t help it — you laughed too, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Jun.”

“I was told I made an impossible husband,” he said, tone dipping into something soft, almost nostalgic. “But I like to think I’m improving.” You ignored the way your heart skipped. “Keep the flattery for someone you can actually touch.”

Another pause — this one quieter, heavier. Then: “I can touch you.. just to remind you,” he murmured.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. The light from the window dimmed as clouds rolled in outside, shadows crawling gently across the old wood floor. You pretended to focus on your groceries again, voice light but trembling slightly.

“Well,” you said, “if you’re going to touch me, at least help me unpack next time.” A faint rustle answered you — the bag of rice shifting slightly on its own, sliding closer to the cabinet.

You froze. Then laughed, a soft disbelieving sound. “Show-off.” From behind you hear his amused whisper, low and tender “Only for my wife.”

—

It was past midnight, the kind of hour where even the wind outside seemed half-asleep. The house was wrapped in silence, save for the soft rustle of paper as you turned another page of your book. The lamp beside your bed cast a warm circle of light that didn’t quite reach the corners of the room, where the dark always seemed to breathe.

You could feel him there. “Jun,” you said quietly, without looking up. “Are you here?” A pause — then that familiar voice, soft and close. “I’m always here.”

You smiled faintly, still reading. “That’s supposed to be comforting, right?” “I suppose that depends,” he murmured, “on whether you believe I’m haunting you or protecting you.”

You tilted your head toward the voice. “You keep saying you’re not haunting me, but it sure feels like it sometimes.” “Would a haunt make your tea every morning?” he teased gently.

“That was you?” You blinked. “I thought I was just.. sleepwalking.” “I can’t do much,” he said quietly, “but I can move little things when the night is kind to me.”

You shut the book slowly, the words blurring. “Why do you do it?” “Because you forget to take care of yourself when you write,” he said simply. “You get lost. I don’t want to see you vanish the way I did.”

Your breath caught. “The way you did?” He didn’t answer at first — only silence, deep and heavy, filled the room. Then, softly “I loved too fiercely. Enough to tether my soul here.” You looked toward the darkness, where you thought his voice had come from. “For her? Your wife?”

A faint laugh, like wind through old glass. “For you.” The room suddenly felt colder, your heart lurching against your ribs. “Jun, that’s-” “I know,” he interrupted gently. “It doesn’t make sense. Not to you. Not yet.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, eyes scanning the space though you knew you wouldn’t see him. “You sound like a tragic novel waiting to happen.” “Perhaps that’s why you were drawn here,” he said softly. “Writers always return to unfinished stories.”

You exhaled, half a sigh, half a shaky laugh. “You make everything sound like fate.” “Isn’t it?” His voice was closer now — you swore you felt the faintest brush of fingers along your hair, so gentle you might’ve imagined it.

“You should sleep,” he murmured. “The world outside can wait.” “Are you staying?” you asked, eyes drooping. “I never left.” You smiled faintly, a small surrender, before your eyelids fluttered closed.

Jun stayed — unseen but so achingly near, his presence hovering like a heartbeat in the dark. And when your breathing evened out, his whisper came, softer than a sigh “You once told me you’d find me again. I suppose you always keep your promises.”

The cafe was the kind that looked like a Pinterest board come to life — soft lighting, fern leaves drooping over every table, the faint hum of an espresso machine mixing with lo-fi music. You sat by the window with your laptop open, pretending to edit your manuscript while your three best friends interrogated you like you were on trial.

“So,” Hao started, sipping his iced latte dramatically, “how’s married life?” You choked on your drink. “What- excuse me?” Min snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You literally sent us a picture of another portrait and said, He’s kinda hot for a dead guy. Don’t tell me you’re not crushing on the house ghost.”

You pressed your fingers against your temple. “I was joking!” “Were you, though?” Gyu cut in, deadpan as ever. “You also texted last night that someone made you tea again. Either you have a kind spirit or a trespasser with excellent domestic skills.”

Seokmin gasped theatrically. “Or maybe both!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s a ghost.” “Then why are you blushing?” Minghao leaned forward with a grin. “Look at her, Seok- she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” you hissed, but your cheeks burned hotter than the cappuccino in front of you. “He’s just..” You stopped, realising how ridiculous it would sound to admit that Jun talked to you every night. That he teased you, cared for you, comforted you in ways that humans can’t even do.

Mingyu leaned back, stirring his coffee lazily. “You’re acting like you’ve got a boyfriend who only comes out after dark.” You glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Seokmin propped his chin on his hands. “Not yet.”

Hao laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “God, this is gonna be one of her novels, isn’t it? Lonely writer moves into a haunted house, ghost falls in love with her, she says it’s a curse, but he says it’s destiny-”

“Stop quoting my life!” you interrupted, waving your spoon like a weapon. “You guys are the worst.” “We’re the realists,” Min said, still smirking. “You just happen to be living inside your own plot twist.”

For a moment, they all laughed, that kind of carefree, echoing laugh that only happens in midday cafes. You joined in too, trying to drown out the strange warmth you felt under your ribs.

Your laughter stuttered, your eyes darting toward the window. The glass reflected only you and your friends — no one else. You sometimes think every time you’re outside, is he bored at home? Is he okay? That quiet presence. A part of you just wants to stay at home.

“See?” Min teased, nudging you. “She’s spacing out. Probably thinking about her ghost husband.” You forced a laugh, looking back at him, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something like that.”

The cafe hummed with lazy afternoon chatter. You sat across from Minghao, Seokmin, and Mingyu, who somehow turned what was supposed to be a casual catch-up into a full-blown roast session.

“You’re into ghosts now, huh? So that’s why you’re not dating anyone alive?” Hao said, chuckling. You jabbed a straw at him. “Minghao, I swear to God-” Gyu raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name again?” You hesitated. The word caught on your tongue. “Jun.”

All three of them stared for a beat before Min smirked. “Jun? You even named him?” “I didn’t name him!” you said quickly. “That’s what he-” You froze. “That’s what his real wife, maybe, called him.”

“Right.” Mingyu nodded, clearly unconvinced. “So this ghost talks to you, cooks for you, and sleeps beside you-” “He doesn’t sleep beside me!” you blurted, heat rising to your cheeks. “He just- he-” “Uh-huh.” Seokmin grinned. “You’re doomed, man. She’s in deep.”

You tried to laugh it off, but your pulse was unsteady. Because later, when you were back home and the house greeted you with that quiet stillness, the laughter from earlier still echoed faintly in your head — you called Jun, yet no one was responding.

You frowned. He always answered when you came home. Even just a faint, teasing whisper — You’re late, little human. But tonight, nothing. Just the quiet hum of air through the vents and the faint ticking of the antique clock in the foyer.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, forcing a laugh. “So we’re doing the ghost-silent-treatment thing now? Cute.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, slamming a cabinet or two a little louder than necessary. Still nothing. The quiet felt heavier now — not the peaceful kind, but the kind that watches you.

“Jun.” You called again, voice sharper. “If you’re mad at me for something, at least say it. Don’t just.. vanish.” The air stirred faintly behind you, like a breath on your neck. You turned, but the space was empty. A shiver ran down your arms.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re sulking because I went out with my friends.” You rolled your eyes, more to convince yourself than anything. “You’re not seriously mad, right?” Still nothing. You exhaled. “Fine. Silent treatment it is. You win. I’ll just talk to myself then.”

You started rambling, pacing the living room like a stand-up comic trying to fill dead air. “For the record, they’re friends. Normal, breathing, alive friends who buy me coffee and don’t haunt my house.”

The chandelier above flickered faintly. You stopped. “Did I strike a nerve there?” A faint hum of energy prickled across your skin — the sign that he was listening, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You sighed, softer now. “You know, it’s kind of unfair. You disappear when I talk to other people, but then you act like I’m supposed to just stay here waiting for you to materialise out of thin air.” The silence stretched.

You pressed your lips together. “I’m not yours, Jun.”

That’s when you heard it — not a loud voice, but something that slid into your mind like a thought that wasn’t yours. “Aren’t you?” You froze. The temperature dropped suddenly, enough for your breath to fog in front of you.

“You wear my ring,” his voice murmured now, closer, though he still wasn’t visible. “You live in my house. You sleep in my bed. You call my name every night without realising it.”

You spun toward the sound. “You didn’t answer when I came home. You scared me.” “I know.” The reply was soft, low, guilty — but underneath it, something darker stirred. “You talked about me with them,” Jun continued, voice drifting between the walls, nearer and nearer. “You laughed. You blushed. Did you enjoy that?”

“Jun,” you warned, heart pounding, “how did you even-? Don’t do this.” He let out a breath of what almost sounded like a laugh. “You think I don’t feel it? Every time someone says your name, every time you smile at someone else, it burns.”

Your pulse quickened, a strange mix of fear and warmth tightening in your chest. “You’re not even alive, Jun. What are you implying?” “Maybe not,” he whispered. “But you still make me feel it.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the faint outline of his form starting to shimmer near the hallway mirror — not solid yet, just smoke and memory. “Then don’t disappear like that again,” you said quietly. “If you can feel something, then talk to me. Don’t just.. leave.”

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the faintest smile crossed his half-formed face. “You missed me.” You scoffed. “You were sulking.” “I was angry,” he corrected. “Because for a moment, I thought maybe you preferred your men.” You looked at the mirror — at his faint, sorrowful expression behind your reflection.

“They're not my men.. they’re my friends. You’re impossible,” you whispered. “And you,” Jun said softly, “are the only thing I’ve wanted in centuries.”

The room stilled. The air grew warmer. You felt the ghost of fingers trace the outline of your wrist — not cold, but not quite warm either. Just real enough to make you tremble.

Jun's reflection leaned closer, his gaze locked on your lips. His hands moved from your wrist to either side of your head, trapping you gently between his ghostly palms. “Say you're mine,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t answer. He held your hands and pulled you near the mirror, “Do you need to see me, for you to talk?” he said, a little annoyed, you’re not sure whether to you or to himself. You looked directly at the mirror, memorising his ethereal face.

His hands framed your face, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he stared into your eyes, making you look at his direction directly, nothing, you can see nothing. But you could feel his presence, his breath ghosting over your neck. “I'm not in the mirror, my wife” he murmured, voice coming from both directions. “I'm here.”

The ghostly hands slid from your cheeks to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He leaned in closer, his translucent lips hovering just above yours. “Let me kiss you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Please.”

You smiled.. “only because you asked this time.” Jun's reflection smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He loved when you teased him, even a little. It meant you weren't scared of him. “Only because I asked?” He repeated softly, his voice ghosting over your lips. “You admitted before that you did without my consent.”

His expression turned serious, one hand moving to gently grasp your chin, turning your face slightly as if preparing to kiss you but stopping himself. “I’m sorry. That was my mistake.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “This time.. will be different.”

He stared at you intently, his hands steady and gentle. “I'll ask for permission every time. I'll wait for your agreement. And if you say no, I'll stop.” His voice was quiet, sincere. His eyes searched yours, looking for understanding.

You parted your lips slightly to answer. “Then go on.” That was all Jun needed. He surged forward, capturing your mouth softly at first. He tested your response — one hand cupped your cheek possessively while the other slid around your waist. You hummed softly, making him deeper. Now this is weird but also kinda hot.. I’m kissing the air.

Jun’s kiss grew more insistent, his tongue gently probing your mouth. He tasted sweet, like a phantom memory of honey and mint. His hands roamed from your waist downwards until they gripped onto your hips firmly pulling you closer towards him. You can feel him.

You gasped against his mouth as he pulled you closer, his cold hands gripping your hips tightly. Jun took advantage of your open mouth, deepening the kiss even further by pushing his tongue inside. He tangled it with yours, exploring your mouth thoroughly as if he was trying to memorise the taste of you. “Fucking hell, you taste like heaven.”

“For someone who’s dead, you curse so strongly.” You said laughing in between the kisses. In the mirror, you can see him smirking against your lips, his voice husky and amused. “Even ghosts can curse when they’re kissing someone they’ve been longing for.” His hands slid down to your thighs lifting them slightly as if trying to pull them around his waist.

You giggled, the sound muffled against his mouth. Jun groaned, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He pulled harder, attempting to wrap your legs around his unseen waist. The mirror grew warmer, fogging up completely as their kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

“Jun.. my imaginations may be wild, yet I can’t do this to someone I can only see in the mirror”

Jun’s smirk faltered. For a second, his reflection looked as though it was flickering — as if even his smile could no longer hold shape. Then he stepped back, his eyes dark and distant. “You can’t see me because you’re not supposed to.”

Before you could ask what that meant, his hand — cold but firm — grasped your wrist. The mirror rippled like water as he pulled you through the hallway. You stumbled after him, feet barely touching the ground, until you reached a door you had never opened before. It was the last one at the end of the corridor at the third floor — carved oak, locked since the day you moved in.

“Jun, wait-” But the door creaked open on its own, revealing a dimly lit room heavy with the scent of old wood and faded perfume. Dust particles drifted lazily in the air, but beneath the decay, everything was preserved. A canopy bed stood at the center, its sheets neat, untouched. A wedding veil lay folded at the pillow’s edge.

“This room” you whispered. “I never-” “Because you weren’t meant to remember it.”

Jun’s voice was quieter now, stripped of playfulness, stripped of warmth. He stood by the window, you can’t even see his figure under the pale afternoon light. You could see the garden though — but you know his eyes were solid, endless, tired.

“You walk through this house like a stranger because you are one. But once, you weren’t.” Your chest tightened. “What are you saying?” He looked at you, a faint tremor in his hands. “You can’t see me because you can’t even remember who I am.”

The words felt like a knife — sharp, but dull in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I just moved here. I just-” Jun shook his head. “No. You came back.” He stepped closer. His voice softened, trembling with a kind of desperation you’d never heard from him before.

“You promised me you would, before you died.” Your breath caught. “Died?” “Before you died,” he said again, slower this time, as if tasting every syllable. “You said you would find me. You said, ‘Wait for me. Even if it takes lifetimes, I’ll come back.’”

You blinked rapidly, a faint ringing in your ears. Your mind refused to accept it — but your body remembered something. A pulse in your fingertips. A flash of a wedding ring. A man’s laughter. A voice saying My Jun.

He continued, eyes glimmering like glass. “I remembered everything. That’s my curse. I have lived every life remembering you — who you were, how you died, how you looked at me the day we said our vows. Every damn lifetime.”

The room felt like it was spinning. You staggered back a step and looked around the room, dizzy. That’s where you realise, this room is the real master bedroom, with another portrait.. where Jun and the same woman from downstairs. The difference is that you could see her face clearly now.

A face that is very familiar to you. A face that you see everyday. It’s your face. It’s you. “No.. Jun, that can’t be real. That’s-” “You’ve always said that,” he whispered. “Every life. Every time we meet, you never remember at first. But I always do. And every time, I find you.”

You shook your head, heart pounding painfully. “Then why am I here? Why this house?” “Because it’s where we lived,” Jun said simply. “Where I built a home for you. And where I died waiting when you didn’t come back.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked around the room, his gaze softening with memory. “They called it devotion. I called it punishment. I’ve been bound here, in this house, between life and death, waiting for you. Every creak of the floorboards, every breeze through the window — it’s been you I’ve been calling.”

You sank onto the edge of the bed, the veil beside you brushing against your hands. “Then.. I died?” Jun nodded slowly. “You did. In this life, you lost control of your car the day before our wedding anniversary. You were coming here.” He knelt before you, his touch barely grazing your knee, but warm now, almost human.

“You survived,” he whispered. “But you lost your memory. You forgot me.” Tears burned your eyes before you even realised you were crying. “So that’s why I can’t see you. Because part of me still refuses to remember.”

Jun smiled sadly, brushing your tears away with fingers that faded halfway through the motion. “You can’t see me because you don’t believe in me anymore. And without your belief, I’m barely here.”

You tried reaching out to touch him, his hands guiding your hands to his face — his cheek, his hair, anything solid — but your hand passed through his face like mist.

Until it didn’t.

Warmth bloomed under your touch. Solid. Living. Real. You gasped softly, feeling your heartbeat stumble as Jun’s features sharpened in front of you — the faint curve of his smile, the mole beneath his eye, the soft slope of his nose. He was no longer just a shimmer in the mirror; he was right there.

He was beautiful. And familiar. He’s divine.

The air pulsed once and then everything tilted. The floor beneath your feet dissolved, colours shifting, walls melting into light. You blinked and suddenly, the world changed.

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of white sakura trees, their petals falling like snow. You stood under an arch woven with lilies and pearls, your hands trembling as Jun slid a ring onto your finger.

“Do you promise to haunt me even if I die first?” you teased, your voice catching from laughter and tears. Jun’s lips curved into that same half-smile you’d later dream about. “I’d rather haunt the world than live in it without you.”

You threw your head back, laughing softly, pressing your forehead to his. “That sounds like a curse.”He smiled against your lips. “Then I’ll gladly be cursed.”

—

You stood in front of the house you live in now — only brighter, newer. Boxes piled high on the porch, sunlight filtering through the vines climbing the walls. Jun appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Our forever home,” he said, kissing your temple.

“It’s old,” you murmured. “And it creaks.” “So do we, sometimes.” You laughed, swatting at him. “That’s not romantic.”

He leaned closer, whispering, “Then let me try again.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Our love will creak too, old, stubborn, and impossible to let go.”

—

The sound of clinking porcelain. You sat at the wooden kitchen table, hair still messy from sleep, while Jun poured you tea with that same careful grace he did everything with.

He kissed the back of your hand. “You always forget breakfast when you write.” “And you always act like I’ll starve in two hours,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Because you will,” he replied, sliding the cup toward you. “My wife, the novelist who forgets she has a body.” You smiled, reaching out to tug him closer by the tie. “You talk too much hubby.”

He chuckled. “I love you” you smiled “I love you more”

—

The clock struck midnight, the house silent except for the faint hum of the record player. You were in your pajamas, barefoot on the hardwood floor. Jun appeared behind you, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me,” he said simply. “There’s no music.” “There’s us.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his. He spun you once, your laughter echoing in the dim light. The two of you swayed lazily, the world shrinking to the warmth of his hands on your waist and the sound of your quiet breaths syncing together.

—

Thunder boomed outside, rain drumming against the windows. You were both huddled in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a single blanket. “Tell me something true,” you murmured, tracing his palm with your finger.

Jun’s gaze softened. “When I first saw you, I thought I had seen you before. Like in a dream that I’d already lived.” “And did you?” you asked.

His silence was long, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Maybe I’ll tell you in another life.” You frowned. “That’s unfair.” “Then stay with me in this one,” he whispered, voice low, almost pleading.

Both of you laughed, as the warmth between you two became one, cuddling at the stormy weather at the bed.

—

“Jun, stop reading over my shoulder!” you groaned, swatting him lightly with your pen. “I can’t help it,” he said, grinning. “Your characters sound like us.” “They do not.”

“They do. ‘The stubborn man who won’t take no for an answer,’” he quoted dramatically, pointing to the page. “That’s clearly me.” You threw a crumpled paper at him. “Then I’ll kill your character next.”

“Then I’ll haunt you,” he teased, eyes glimmering. You rolled your eyes. “Then I’ll marry you out of guilt.” “Perfect. My plan worked.”

—

Sunlight peeked through sheer curtains, painting soft stripes across the bed. Jun’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his chest rising and falling behind you.

“Jun,” you murmured sleepily. “You’re heavy.” He chuckled, half-asleep. “You used to like it.” “I changed my mind.” He buried his face into your hair. “Too late. You married me.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. “You’re impossible.” He kissed your shoulder. “So are you. That’s why it works.”

—

The dining room was dim except for candles you hastily lit on a lopsided cake. Jun entered the room and froze, eyes widening as you yelled, “Happy birthday!” “I told you not to-”

“You think I listen to you?” you said, grinning. “Make a wish before I eat it all.” He stared at you for a moment before blowing the candles out. “I already did.”

You blinked. “What’d you wish for?” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “To live long enough to grow old with you.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s so cheesy.”

But he smiled softly. “Cheesy things are true things.”

—

The smell of oil paint filled the room. You sat by the window, sunlight catching in your hair while Jun worked on a portrait of you. “You’re taking forever,” you complained, swinging your legs.

He looked up from the canvas, smirking. “You move too much.” “I’m bored.” “Then talk to me.” You tilted your head. “What should I say?”

“Say something I can remember,” he said. You smiled. “I love you.” He paused, brush mid-air. “That’ll do.”

The memories collided with reality, your breath ragged as you stumbled back. The house, the mirror, the kitchen — everything shimmered and settled again into the dim golden light of dusk.

You were crying. Not from fear, but from the weight of recognition. “Jun,” you whispered, your hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I remember everything.”

Jun smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. His thumb brushed the corner of your lips like he’d done a thousand times before. “You came back to me.”

Your lips trembled. “And you waited.” He nodded once, a soft, broken laugh escaping him. “Every lifetime.”

His smile turned into a hungry kiss as he pressed you against the old bed where you shared countless moments together you’ve forgotten. His hands roamed over familiar curves remembered through centuries of waiting — for this exact moment where memory returned fully between two souls meant to be entwined forever.

His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed along your jawline. Suddenly, he pressed a cold finger to your neck, activating a necromantic chill that made you gasp and arch into him. “Do you remember my touch?” He whispered huskily

A wicked smile spread across his face as he remembered your kinks. He reached over to the bedside table and lit a candle, the flame flickering to life in the dim room. He started playing with temperatures, his breath, his touch being entirely cold, and the candle.. the wax. He dribbled hot wax onto your collarbone, watching as you gasped and your eyes fluttered closed. He knew exactly what you liked.

He kissed down your neck, his mouth alternately hot and cold like fire and ice. “Wife.. you taste so good.” His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone with wax on it as he slowly unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more skin for him to worship.

One hand continued the slow torture of dripping hot wax onto your skin while the other hand slipped under your bra, teasing your nipple with cold fingertips. “Cold or hot first?” He didn't wait for an answer, switching between hot wax poured onto your chest and his ice-cold hands caressing your skin.

This leaves you shivering and gasping beneath his touch. He unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere as he continued his assault on your senses, his mouth claiming one hardening nipple while his fingers played with the other.

Junhui worshipped your body like he’d been starved for centuries — because he had been. His mouth trailed down to your stomach, kissing and licking each inch of skin he uncovered. He unbuttoned your pants slowly, almost reverently, pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.

He spread your legs gently, his cold hands contrasting with the heat of your core. He leaned down, blowing a cool breath over your clit before he spoke. “I remember everything about you. Every moan, every gasp, every shiver.”

“And I remember how you used to drive me crazy with that mouth of yours.” You spread your legs wider, teasing him deliberately. Jun groaned, pressing a freezing cold kiss directly onto your clit. “Stop teasing me with your knowledge of my body,”

His cold tongue replaced his lips, licking a slow path up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. He used his fingers to spread you open further, his ice-cold digits pushing inside you suddenly. You gasped and bucked against him. “Uhmm-hmm jun..” “You used to call me hubby.” He murmured.

“My hubby,” He growled against your sensitive folds, his fingers curling inside you while his tongue worked overtime on your clit. He remembered every spot that made you moan hubby. His other hand snaked up to pinch one of your nipples hard, making you arch into him.

“You used to grab my hair and fuck my face when I do this..” He demonstrated by sucking hard on your clit while pushing three cold fingers deep inside you, curling them exactly how you used to love. “Ugh! Fuck-”

You instantly wrapped your legs around his head, gripping his hair tightly and riding his face as you moaned his name like a prayer. Jun moaned loudly, his fingers freezing cold inside you as he remembered how much he loved being used by you.

“God, you always ride my face hard when I touch you like this.” He added another finger, spreading them wide inside you, hitting your favourite spot. He blew cold air onto your clit again, watching your body tightly coil with remembered pleasure.

“Stop reminiscing,” You pushed his head away sharply. He laughed softly, his mouth wet with your arousal. “No more remembering how you used to bounce on my face?” He teased, trying to pull your hips back down onto his mouth. You smacked his head lightly, “Asshole.”

He caught your hips sharply, pulling you back. He spread your legs wide, feasting on you like a starving man. His fingers still inside you, curving them perfectly as he ate you loudly, slurping and sucking your clit like it was his last meal.

Your body tightened like a bowstring as he remembered exactly how you liked it. Within minutes, you were crying out, your legs shaking as you came hard against his mouth. “Junhui- God! Aghh Oh my- fuck!”

He kept eating you through your orgasm, his cold fingers never stopping their relentless attack on that sweet spot inside you. He loved how you tasted, how you moaned his name like a dirty prayer. When your legs finally stopped shaking, he pulled away slowly, licking his lips.

He sat up, his face glistening with your juices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “You taste even better than I remembered,” he said huskily. He spread his legs slightly, palming his hard, cold erection through his pants.

“My turn, hubby.”

You smirked and slowly removed his jacket and white collared shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs. He lifted his hips so you could pull down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. His massive, erect dick sprang free, slapping against his stomach with a wet smack.

His hands came up to grip your hair as you looked down at his length. He was already cold and hard, leaking pre-cum. “Take it in your mouth,” he ordered roughly, his Chinese accent thickening with desire. His hand tightened in your hair possessively. “Open Wen Y/N”

You spread your lips slowly, taking the tip of him into your hot mouth. He hissed sharply, his hips bucking slightly. “Damn it,” He muttered softly, watching your wet mouth stretch around him. “You used to deep throat like a pro.” He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you slightly.

His eyes rolled back as you suddenly took him deep into your throat without warning, your nose pressing against his balls. He let out a choked groan — “Fucking hell..” His hands tangled in your hair desperately as you started bobbing up and down rapidly, sucking hard “Shit.. shit- shit, you’re even better now!”

His cold dick throbbed in your mouth as you kept deepthroating him, your tongue pressing against the sensitive vein underneath. He could barely speak, his voice coming out strained “Fuck...fuck..fuck! Goddam- Ughh”

With a loud, muffled groan, he came down your throat, his hips jerking uncontrollably. You swallowed every drop before pulling off with a wet pop. He fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. “Still so noisy” You commented dryly, crawling up his body.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent. “Sure sure..” He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse. “You’re the loud one. Always screaming my name.” He started kissing and sucking on your neck possessively. “My hubby.. still so good for me.”

He rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his. I can’t even see the ceiling. His cold hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. His dark brown eyes bore into yours intensely. “Turns out, my wife gives even better head now. I wonder how else she’s improved.”

One hand slid under your thigh. “Spread for me, Y/N. Let me check if that tight hole still belongs to me only.” His voice was low and commanding.

He pushed your legs apart roughly, his cold dick already hardening again. I’m fucking a ghost. He’s so cold. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head against your sensitive spot. “You know what I love about this position?” He asked, his voice husky.

“What?” You barely said, “It lets me go deep,” He answered darkly, pushing your thighs back sharply and slamming inside you hard. He hit the bottom instantly, making you cry out loudly. “See?” He pulled back and thrust hard again, making you bounce on the bed. “Noisy.”

He started pounding into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your loud moans and cries. One hand remained on your wrist above your head holding it back while the other on your thighs “Fuck-” He groaned, “Too loud, my wife”

His thrusts became deeper and harder, hitting that spot inside you perfectly. Your loud moans turned into high-pitched screams as he fucked you brutally. “Shut up...shut up”

He slapped a hand over your mouth as you screamed during another deep thrust. “AHHH-” “Jesus,” He muttered against your neck, “You sound like a fucking porn star.” He bit down on your shoulder to muffle his own groan, still fucking you mercilessly.

Your world turned into a blur of cold hands gripping your body painfully, eyes glinting menacingly above you, and a ghostly cock pounding into you. You could feel every inch of him stretching you open, hitting depths you never knew existed. “Mmph..”

You felt possessed, fucked by a literal ghost who showed no mercy. His cold body slammed against yours relentlessly, making the headboard bang against the wall loudly. Your screams were echoing, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Tears streamed down your face from the intense pleasure-pain as he hit your cervix with every thrust. Your nails scrambled against his back, leaving red marks on his pale skin. You felt like you were being claimed by a supernatural being, completely at his mercy. “Nghh!”

Your tears only seemed to fuel his hunger for you. He watched, mesmerised, as they spilled down your cheeks and dripped onto the pillow. “Adorable,” He groaned, his voice laced with dark desire. “My pretty wife crying while I fuck you stupid.”

Mid-thrust, an abrupt memory flashed through his mind — the candle he had lit earlier, still burning softly nearby. A wicked smirk crossed his ghostly face as an idea struck him. “Hold that thought..” He suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and whimpering. “Don't move.”

He quickly reached the candle, dipping his cold fingers into the melted wax. The room fell silent except for your laboured breathing and soft sniffles. “I forgot you’re a ghost, and how you can’t feel pain.” He chuckled then looming over you with a sinister grin and wax-covered fingers. “Spread wider,” He ordered darkly. “Let's play a little game.”

Without warning, he pressed the warm wax against your sensitive entrance, pushing it inside you slowly. You gasped at the foreign feeling, your hole stretching to accommodate the wax. He added more, filling you up with the warm substance before snapping his fingers. “Cold now.” The wax instantly hardened inside you,

Leaving you with a feeling of extreme fullness and pressure. He pushed your legs back even further, until your knees were practically touching your ears. “Now, let's see how long this pretty little human can hold still while I fuck her with a frozen, wax-filled hole.”

He lined up his cock again, pushing the head against your entrance. He groaned as he slowly slid in, the hardened wax making you even tighter than before. “Goddamn,” He grunted, “You feel insane right now.”

With a sharp thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you. The sudden intrusion forced a loud, strangled moan from your throat. “Ahh..! F-fuck..!” You bucked your hips instinctively, only for the wax to shift inside you uncomfortably. “N-no...ahh- st-still..”

He wrapped a hand around your throat to hold you down as he started thrusting his hips slowly, each thrust causing the wax to grind against your prostate pleasurably. Your moans turned into broken whimpers as he fucked you with that unrelenting fullness. “Shh, my wife.. just take it”

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours with wet smacks. The wax inside you began to melt slightly from the friction, creating a warm, sticky sensation that had you moaning uncontrollably. “Ahh..ahh...ahhh!”

Your loud, desperate moans sent him over the edge. He slammed into you one last time, hitting your prostate dead on as he came hard inside you. “FUCK!” He groaned loudly, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot cum. “HUBBY!” You screamed as you cream his cock as well inside.

He stayed buried inside you, his heavy breathing gradually slowing as he nuzzled against your neck. The melted wax and his release dripped out of you messily, coating your inner thighs. After a moment, he pulled out slowly, watching as more fluid followed. “Mmm”

You looked down at the mess between your legs, then back up at him with confused eyes. “How.. how are you cumming? You're a ghost” He smirked mischievously, “Ghost sex has its perks, wife. My spirit can still produce semen.”

“And trust me, it feels just as good as real cum would.” He chuckled softly, floating down to clean himself up with some tissues he got at the night stand. “Plus, being dead means I can fuck you for hours without getting tired.”

Your eyes widen, completely not understanding what happened just now, “can I get pregnant..? BY A GHOST?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then shook his head with a soft laugh. “No, Y/N. You can’t get pregnant from ghost sex.” He explained, “My spirit might produce semen, but it lacks the necessary components to impregnate anyone.”

“Oh ok,” you sighed, relieved. His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as he went back up to top you, hovering between your legs. “So basically, I can fill you up as much as I want, and there’s zero risk of an actual baby.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and the night was long.

The morning light slipped through the old lace curtains, pooling soft gold across the floorboards. The air was warmer than usual — almost gentle, like the house itself didn’t want to disturb you. You stirred under the sheets, your body still aching in ways you couldn’t explain, every muscle sore but tingling with something that felt like longing.

This bed feels more like me, than the other bed. I love to be back.

Jun sat beside the bed, his elbow resting on the headboard, chin on his hand, smiling softly. “You’re awake,” he murmured. His voice was as calm as ever, but there was something different in his gaze — something steady, quiet, almost resigned.

You groaned, trying to sit up. “Remind me to never let a ghost manhandle me again.” He laughed — that deep, melodic laugh that used to echo down the hallways when the house was still alive. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you tried to swing your legs off the bed, “that was before I realized ghosts apparently have stamina.”

Jun leaned forward, catching your wrist before you could stand. “Careful,” he said softly. “Don’t move too fast. You’re still sore.” You rolled your eyes. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” he teased, standing and offering his hand anyway. “But let me handle you for once.” You took his hand without thinking — it felt solid now, warm even. The thought almost made your chest ache. “Since when did you get so smug?”

He smiled faintly, leading you toward the kitchen. “Since I got my wife back.” You froze mid-step, and for a moment, your breath caught. He said it so casually, like it was the most ordinary truth in the world. But something in his tone — that faint tremor beneath the calm — made your heart twist.

“Jun..” He only smiled again, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Breakfast first. Heavy hearts need coffee.”

He made pancakes. You didn’t even think ghosts could cook, but the smell of butter and sugar filled the air, and when you asked how he did it, Jun just shrugged. “You said you missed the scent of home,” he said, flipping one perfectly golden. “So I borrowed it from your memory.” You laughed. “That’s creepy and romantic. I can’t decide which.” “Can’t it be both?”

The rest of the day passed in a strange sort of domestic bliss. You both cleaned the bedroom — or at least, you did, and Jun hovered around you, pretending to help but mostly teasing you. He brushed wax off your cheek, steadying you every time you leaned too close.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked suddenly, when you caught him watching the sunlight through the window. He turned to you, smiling faintly. “Miss what?” “Being alive.” For a heartbeat, his smile faltered. Then he said quietly, “Not anymore. Everything I ever wanted.. is standing right here.”

You stared at him — the soft glow in his eyes, the way his voice trembled like he was holding back something heavy. You didn’t press. Instead, you reached out and brushed his hand — and this time, it felt entirely real.

Jun blinked, then smiled again, softer this time. “See? You’re getting stronger.” You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead — his lips almost warm now. “It means you’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Even when I’m not here to make pancakes for you.”

You looked up sharply. “What are you talking about-” “Nothing,” he interrupted, smiling again — that same too-gentle, too-final smile. “Just saying.. ghosts like me don’t get forever. So promise me, if I ever fade away” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “…don’t stop living.”

You didn’t know why, but the air grew heavier around you. The sunlight dimmed. You forced a laugh. “You’re being dramatic again.”

Jun chuckled softly, though his eyes were glistening in the light. “Maybe. But if being dramatic lets me stay in your memory, then I’ll take it.”

You stared at him for a long time, the ache in your chest tightening, and for a fleeting moment, you swore you could see through him — just a shimmer, like heat rising from pavement. But you blinked, and he was solid again. Smiling. Alive in his own way.

And so, you smiled back. “You’ll have to work harder than that to get rid of me.” He leaned in and kissed your lips. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

—

The night came gentle, like the world itself didn’t want to wake you. You sat on the veranda with Jun, a single candle flickering between you — its flame bending and swaying with the wind. The garden was quiet, the air thick with that faint sweetness of rose and memory.

Jun leaned back in his chair, watching you instead of the stars. You didn’t notice at first how still he’d become. “I used to dream of this,” he said softly. “Of what?” “Peace.” He smiled faintly, eyes never leaving your face. “I thought I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

You chuckled, sipping your tea. “You sound like someone who’s about to give a farewell speech.” “Maybe I am.” You frowned. “Jun.”

He turned toward you, eyes reflecting the candlelight, gold and endless and unbearably sad. “You remember everything now, don’t you?” You blinked. “What do you mean?” “Us,” he whispered. “Before this life. Before this house. Before the accident.”

The words hit you like a chill. The images — faint, half-remembered — started to surface. The rain. Screeching tires. The ring glinting against the pavement. Jun’s voice calling your name, desperate, echoing. And then.. nothing.

Your throat tightened. “I- I saw flashes. I thought they were dreams.” He reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was lighter than before — fading. “They were memories. The last ones we shared before everything ended.”

You shook your head, tears already welling. “Ended? No.. we found each other again, didn’t we? You said you waited for me-” “I did,” Jun said, smiling. “Every life I remembered, I searched for you. Sometimes I found you. Sometimes I didn’t. But this time..” He paused, his voice breaking. “This time, you came back to me.”

“Then why- why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I am.” You froze. “No.”

He moved closer, cupping your face, thumbs tracing slow circles over your tears. His hands were almost see-through now — light bleeding through his fingers. “My curse was to remember every life,” he said softly. “To live them all until I learned to let go.”

“Jun, stop-”

“But yours,” he whispered, “was to forget. To live free of the pain. To start again.”

—

The moment the words left his lips, something in your chest cracked open — a white flash of pain, too bright to bear. And then..

White walls. The soft hum of machines. A dull ache at the back of your head. You blinked your eyes open and found yourself lying on a hospital bed. Your throat was dry, your body heavy. The faint rhythm of a heart monitor keeps time with your shallow breathing.

“Mingyu- she’s awake!” You turned your head weakly. Three faces came into focus — Mingyu, Seokmin, and Minghao — all hovering near your bed, eyes wide with relief. Mingyu reached out, holding your hand tightly as if grounding you.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice trembling. “You scared us.” You looked at them, confused. “What.. happened?” Seokmin’s smile faltered. “You got into an accident. You’ve been out for a few days.”

You nodded slowly, your mind foggy. But as you looked at their faces — familiar yet oddly distant — you felt something off. Something hollow. “Was anyone else with me?” you asked after a moment.

They froze. Minghao looked down at the floor, his jaw tight. “No,” he said finally. “You were alone when they found you.” You frowned, trying to recall anything — a road, a sound, a name. But your head throbbed the harder you tried. There was nothing. Just blank space.

Days passed, and you went home, that doesn’t even feel like home. You walked through your apartment, touching the furniture, tracing the edges of picture frames that held no faces. You caught your reflection in the mirror and felt the strangest ache, like someone else should’ve been there beside you. Someone who wasn’t.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you sat on your bed and whispered into the dark — not knowing why, or to whom. “Maybe it’s not about moving on,” you murmured, clutching your chest where that invisible ache lived, “but trying to remember the memories I’ve already lost.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you even realised you were crying. You didn’t know what you were grieving — only that your heart was mourning something you couldn’t recall.

—

You sobbed, shaking your head violently. “Then why- why bring me back here? Why make me remember?” “Because you deserved to know you were loved,” Jun said, voice trembling. “Even after death. Even after forgetting. You were my heart in every lifetime, and I needed you to know that before I go.”

The candle flame flickered. His form wavered, the edges of him breaking apart like smoke. “No,” you cried, clutching his shirt — your hands passing through him. “Please, stay. I’ll remember you this time. I swear, Jun, I won’t forget”

He smiled faintly, leaning forward until his forehead touched yours. “You will. You have to. That’s how you live.” He said. You sobbed. “Then what now? What happens to us? To you” “You live,” he said gently. “You finish your book. You keep the house. You keep going.”

“As for me.. I’ll keep waiting. Like I always do.” You shook your head violently. “No. No, you can’t. You deserve to move on.” “How can I?” Jun whispered. “My heaven was you. This is my fate.. I finally have the reason to cross the afterlife for this life, Y/N.” You felt the warmth of his breath one last time as he whispered,

“Find me again, in another life, my bride” The candle went out.

Silence filled the house — that heavy, sacred kind of silence only grief can make.

You sat there long after, whispering his name into the darkness, your tears falling onto the wooden floor. When the morning light finally touched the veranda, there was no trace of him — just the faint scent of cedar and rose and the ghost of a handprint on your cheek.

And for a moment, as you looked toward the mirror inside the house, you swore you saw him smiling.

Then he was gone.

And on the bed beside you, the veil stirred gently — as if brushed by unseen hands. unheard voice.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ and that’s a wrap!! thank you so much for reading — I hope you liked it!! we’ve still got a few more left on our 2025 kinktober prompt list, next up is jeonghan, then wonwoo. see you all soon! stay safe, healthy, and a little unhinged, loves mwaa

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar

if you’d like to be part of my permanent taglist, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask!! I’d love to include you ❤️

[skzhotpot]

This was romantic as fuck. Someone get Jun cast in a role like this immediately because it fit SO WELL. I loved it!!!!

[nightshao]

yessss!! if that concept actually got casted for jun i would cry and never recover from the pain hajxjhsnd

[nightshao]

there are so many inbox.. i’ll try to answer within this week before i completely go ia (my head is starting to throb) i missed you all :(( thank you all for being so patient with me ❤️

[k-fic-collection]

Gifts of Appreciation M-R

To celebrate Christmas 2025, we decided that we’d host another Author Appreciation Event!

What that means, is that for the past two months, we had a form open for people to anonymously send notes of love and appreciation for k-pop authors on Tumblr. 

We received many notes and fic recommendations from many lovely people, and, as promised, we’ve compiled them into several posts based on alphabetical order.

We hope you enjoy reading the lovely notes and fics recommended below!

Appreciations for @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

“I have no words, that's how amazing your writing is. The way you write, ufff. The sentences deserve to be in literature books. I look forward to whatever you ever write, please know that your writing is so damn impactful, i sometimes highlight specific parts of them so that i can comeback and read them again and again.”

Recommended work by memoiresofaneternaldreamer

Two Sides of the Same Dog Tag

“Riot and Commander had the most insane chemistry going on there, the story was really raw and human, it captured how both MC s struggled in their own ways. 

I wont go too much in details as it may spoil the story but oh god. Some parts of the story hurt so bad, i didn't cry—i bawled my eyes out. And yet they were both so amazing, i cant believe i read such a beautiful story. The ending scene was also so well written.”

Till Death Do Us Part

“no words, this shit was a whole meal, the tropes? arranged marriage? secret spies? work in agencies? oh man sign me the fuck up. Oh to read it again for the first time.”

Appreciations for @miabebe

“i haven't had the pleasure to properly introduced myself uet except for screaming in your askbox once or twice and a million times in your comments lol, but i really wanted to say this: i’m making my way through your entire seventeen masterlist, and i only have one fic left before i can start the camp series. i’ve been putting that last fic on hold as i’m not in the right mindset yet, and i don’t want to ruin the experience. i already know i’m going to love it, just like i’ve loved everything i’ve read from you so far. tbh, i’m going to be so sad once i eventually finish the whole masterlist 😭 i’m really glad i found your writing. i hope you’re doing well, taking care of yourself, and feeling a bit of joy today. wishing you a really lovely holiday season.”

“We haven’t spoken in a long time, but I remember having such fun conversations and brainstorming with you! You’re lovely and your writing is incredible. I hope you come back to it soon, but if not, I still wish you the best! I hope you have a lovely holiday season and new year!”

“hi!! i’m a very very huge fan of camp seventeen and your reverse trope series!! everything is fantastic and i love your writing a lot, i hope you’re doing fine”

Recommended work by miabebe

Accidentally Kidnapping A Mafia Boss

“top tier!! I WILL NEVER SHUT UP”

Too Many Beds

The Intruder's Eye

“the plot twist in this is crazyyyyy”

Anything and Always

“This one, plus Seungcheol’s, and Joshua’s ones in this trio of stories are so fucking good it’s unreal. I highly recommend all three to anyone who enjoys psych thriller fics!” 

Camp Seventeen

Appreciations for @milfgyuu

“I haven’t read much of your work, but what I have read I have loved. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season and next year treats you well!”

Recommended work by milfgyuu

What's My Age Again?

“Hands down my favourite Jun fic I’ve read so far. It’s been a while since I read it (I should reread it soon) but I remember I found it hilarious” 

Lowlifes

“I loved and should really reread soon!” 

Vanilla

“A fun story to read!”

Appreciations for @miniseokminnies 

“I hope you have a lovely Christmas (or that time period if you don’t celebrate) and next year treats you well!”

Appreciations for @minisugakoobies

“Have a happy Christmas. Merry Christmas”

“I hope you have a lovely Christmas (or that time period if you don’t celebrate) and next year treats you well!”

Recommended work by minisugakoobies

half past three

“half past three changed my lifeeeeeee. It was so messy and so good pls never stop. Applause.”

Appreciations for @missgraylock

“I hope you have a lovely Christmas (or that time period if you don’t celebrate) and next year treats you well!”

Appreciations for @mr-cha-n

“I hope you have a lovely Christmas (or that time period if you don’t celebrate) and next year treats you well!”

Recommended work by mr-cha-n 

Echoes of Summer

“A genuinely wonderful story”

Appreciations for @mylovesstuffs

“CELESTEEEE 💀 I don’t even know how you do it. One day I’m sobbing at how good you are how good you write and the next i’m WHEEZING at your tags. How are you simultaneously sheakspeare AND unhinged?? Your brain chemistry must be doing parkour. Anygays I just wanted to say you’re one of my favorite writers to have on my dash. Your writing is incredible ✨ immaculate ✨. I hope you have the happiest holidays  and that your Joshua Hong behaves for once (he won’t)”

“Merry Christmas Celeste!!! English is not my first language but I will try to still write. I read your masterlist in two days and I STILL have new fics and reactions to read after a long week of work of 84 hours. I was in a bad place in September and I found myself rereading your masterlist. I found so much comfort in you. I hope you have a merry Christmas” 

“You, you little gremlin (affectionate) are one of my favourite people to talk to, even if you think otherwise. You’re a wonderful writer, and an even better person and friend. I would never trade our friendship, not even to get my hands on one of my emotional support kpop boys. Give yourself more credit for your writing and ideas! I love you and hope you have a wonderful holiday season and next year is better than this one has been.”

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ONE OF THE BEST PEOPLE AROUND ON CARATBLR!!! the best editor i could ever ask for, and also such a wonderful, beautiful friend <33”

Recommended work by mylovesstuffs

"It's not cute"

disturbia

“This is ongoing but goddamn I love it. Can’t wait for more parts!”

if you'll have me

Appreciations for @nerdycheol

“raeeee baby, hi! i hope you’re doing well these days!! i also wanted to thank you again for always being so kind everytime we talked (ofc we fool around a lot too—), and it means more than you probably will ever realise. i really appreciate you for being you, and for the love you bring just by existing around my orbit. hope you have an amazing holiday season.”

Recommended work by nerdycheol 

Track Record

Appreciations for @nightshao

“TO MY FAVORITE MOOT! you never disappoint with every fanfic you write and i will always stand by that. you have this incredible gift of bringing stories to life so vividly that they live in our imaginations long after we finish reading and thats such a beautiful talent to have as a writer. im forever grateful that i messaged you after our little interaction when i reblogged your ff, because youve become one of the most wonderful people ive had the joy of being friends with. i love you with all my heart. were so, so happy to welcome you here on tumblr, and heres to many more beautifully written ffs to come from you.💜”

“a new seventeen writer!! you deserve more hype, your’ works are awesome and you make the characters more real. i hope you like it in tumblr and continue to share your masterpieces!!”

Recommended work by nightshao

Ghost Bride

“i recommend ghost bride! i honestly thought they were an angst writer before this because the story was just that good beautifully written and painfully devastating in the best way. it hurt so good i swear i felt it in my body😹”

The Mating Season Program

Appreciations for @nothoughtsjustfic

“cheeeee, my cutie, i love you lots. you’re really one of like top-tier, platinum-edition human i know. we just always spiral into our weird little brain corners together and somehow it always feels right to me. i’ll be high and say the weirdest shit before dawn (my time) and you’ll worry about my sanity and then just accept it XD ily. you’re forever my gremlin and i don’t think i could ever realy show you how much i appreciate you being around me, and i’m grateful for you in ways that don’t even have… words. thank you for being you in the unfiltered, hilarious, comforting, and weird in all the exact ways that match mine. love you to the moon, the sun, and whatever bizarre detours we end up taking in between.”

Recommended work by nothoughtsjustfic

To Love Is To Let Go

Worthless

Appreciations for @okiedokrie

“I am terrible at coming up with genuine things to say, but you’re such a wonderful and supportive person. I’m really glad we’re friends despite the fact we don’t talk that much. I don’t know if you celebrate Christmas or not, but either way, I hope the season treats you well and that next year will be a better year full of love, happiness, and health!”

Appreciations for @onlymingyus

“I think you work really hard with everything you do and I think it’s incredible. I don’t know if you celebrate Christmas, but I hope you have a wonderful time either way, and that the new year treats you well!” 

Recommended work by onlymingyus 

Somebody

“This was such a great story, so well written! And DILF Seungcheol??? I don’t think I need to say any more”

Appreciations for @onlyseokmins

“You’re an absolute sweetheart and I hope your holiday season is as sweet as you.” 

Recommended work by onlyseokmins

$$60 billion

“This story truly has a chokehold on me. I read it and immediately looked up Trigun and started to watch it. I think about this story probably at least once every other month and mean to reread it, I just have a low attention span and forget 🤡”

Appreciations for @ourdawnishotterthanourday

“I feel like I should really be able to write a whole essay here, but words fail me. I really do love you; you’re one of my favourite people even if you’re too busy with your real life and I’m just a shit at staying in contact. I hope you find the time and energy to get back into writing in the new year; I know you miss it, and we miss you too. I love you and I truly hope that you have a wonderful Christmas.”

Recommended work by ourdawnishotterthanourday

F*ck My Thighs

“I think this was the first story I read of yours and I randomly think about it sometimes. I should really reread it but I keep forgetting 🤡”

RAW

“We love FreakMin in this house!”

Appreciations for @pars-ley

“I don't have words for the amount of appreciation I have for you! I'm so happy we met and became friends, as well as fellow writers.  So many ideas and ranting have been thrown around between us, and I want you to know that despite my ups and downs with writing, you've been a driving force in keeping me wanting to continue writing. I look forward to tons more brainstorming, and geeking out about our favorite guys. Happy Holidays and I appreciate you!💜”

Recommended work by pars-ley

When the leaves turn red

“I am recommending this because this is the first fic I read from her, and it hooked me. It's beautifully written and made me fall in love with less than 3k words. This is also the fic that broke the ice because I just had to gush about it to her, which started our friendship!”

Appreciations for @pr1nce-jm

“I hope you have a lovely Christmas (or that time period if you don’t celebrate) and next year treats you well!”

Recommended work by pr1nce-jm

quality control

“Such a sweet little story”

Appreciations for @ppyopulii

“hey jay!! we probably don’t know each other super well yet, but i just wanted to say that i think you’re really cool and absolutely deadpan funny. you always make me laugh without even trying, especially in response to my anxious texts lol… i promise, i was being so serious when i said we don’t have timeee! [i wont give any context]. please don’t stress about classwork, i know you’ll slay no matter what. hope you get a chance to relax a bit and enjoy the holidays too! happy holidays.”

“I hope you have a lovely Christmas (or that time period if you don’t celebrate) and next year treats you well!”

Recommended work by ppyopulii 

the study of prosody

“This was a really lovely story to read”

Thank you to everyone who sent in notes. We’re really happy that you participated in this event and helped us to show appreciation for some of the wonderful writers of k-pop Tumblr this Christmas season!

Appreciation compilation posts:  A-C. D-G. H-L. M-R. S1. S2. T-1.

Run and created by Head Librarian Chee and Head Librarian JiJi. Updated: 25/12/2025.

[nightshao]

y’all just killed me at this point in a very very good way.. i’m gonna cry i didn’t expect this AND THE FACT THAT I’M 2 MONTHS LATE 😭 thank you so much!! i promise to continue sharing my works here, thank you all so much for welcoming and accepting me ❤️

[nightshao]

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Wen Junhui x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ When you inherits an estate, you expects creaking floors and dust — not a ghost who swears you’re his wife. The house breathes with memories that aren’t yours, and every night, a soft voice whispers your name. Jun isn’t frightening; he’s heartbreakingly gentle, waiting for a love you've forgotten.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Angst, Ghost x Human, Dark Romance, Mention of Past Lives, Slow burn (I think??), Tragic Romance, Love beyond Death, “You forgot me but I never did” type of shit, Porn w/ Plot (and yes, YOU CAN SKIP the sex scene if not comfortable with the smut warnings)

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 12.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (both f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, neck grab, restraining hands, sensory description, necromancy, wax play, temperature play, soft dominance, implied somnophilia, body worship (jun be obsessed hahaha), dirty talk, ghost sex, dom! jun, sub! reader, crying from pleasure and pain, dacryphilia, loud moans (for both of them), possessiveness, creampie, clit stimulation

🎧 ➙ No sense by Justin Bieber ⋮ Fetish by Selena Gomez ⋮ Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ ahh I adore this story so much!! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m usually known for my angst works, so I guess this is my moment to shine hahaha. please don’t hesitate to click out or skip the explicit parts if they make you uncomfortable — this one gets a little intense with the kinktober themes 😭 anyways, reblogs (w/ or w/o tags) are always appreciated. love you lots!!

navigation ✮ masterlist ✮ guidelines

The house was older than your name.

It stood past the last turn of the countryside road, half-swallowed by the forest, where even the birds refused to sing. The lawyer had given you the address over a call that sounded static, voice clipped, rushed — like he didn’t want to linger on the topic too long.

“An inheritance, Miss L/N,” he’d said. “A private estate. Been untouched for years. You’re the last living relative.” “Relative of who?” you’d asked. “Of the previous owner, Miss Wen.. if I remember correctly. Distant, very distant. She had no direct heirs. You might want to- ah -look through the documents yourself.”

The call ended before you could ask more.

Now, standing at the foot of the property, suitcase in hand, you realised how words could never have prepared you for this.

It was enormous, but not in the modern sense. The house was alive in its decay — a mansion of forgotten gold and black wood, wrapped in ivy that crawled like veins up the cracked stone. The windows glowed faintly amber, reflecting the dying sun. Even the wind that brushed against your skin felt heavy with something unsaid.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, pushing the rusted gates open. “Creepy, but not.. haunted. Hopefully.”

Your footsteps echoed across the gravel path leading up to the grand doors. Each step felt like trespassing on someone’s memory. When you finally pushed the door open, it didn’t screech or fight you like an old hinge should — it sighed, like the house itself was breathing you in.

The first thing that hit you was the smell — grass and rain, faint but fresh, like someone had opened a window minutes ago. The foyer stretched out before you, the chandelier above still glittering under years of dust. Paintings lined the walls. Not landscapes, not still lifes — just portraits. Of the same man.

You paused in front of one. He was handsome in a way that felt wrong for being immortalised in oil paint — sharp jaw, dark, tousled hair that falls around his neck in soft layers, eyes are gentle yet piercing. Scattered across his skin are small, striking moles — near his lips, another on his cheek, and gracing his forehead — as if even the universe couldn’t resist marking beauty where it found it.

Someone had painted him with devotion. You leaned closer. “Whoever you were,” you whispered, “you were definitely the favourite.”

The next few hours passed in quiet exploration. Every room was preserved — sheets draped over furniture, candles that looked half-burned but untouched by time, books still open mid-page on desks. It was eerie, yes, but also intimate. Like someone had just stepped out of the room and would return any minute.

By dusk, exhaustion caught up with you. You found the master bedroom on the second floor — and stopped cold. It was clean. No dust. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets turned down as though waiting. There was even a small vase by the window, a single white rose standing tall in it. You frowned.

“Someone’s been here,” you murmured. Then, louder, calling out just in case, “Hello? Is anyone-?” Silence. Except the faint hum of wind through the old vents. You hesitated, then sighed. “Guess I’ll just lock the door.”

The bed was too soft. Too inviting. You sat down anyway. The pillow smelled faintly of cedar and musk, a scent that didn’t belong to you. Still, the fatigue was pulling you under, and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

—

A breath brushed your neck. So real, so warm, it made every hair on your body stand on end. “You came back.” You bolted upright, eyes scanning the room. “Who’s there?” Nothing. Only the curtains swaying even though the windows were closed.

Your heart hammered as you reached for your phone flashlight. Its glow hit the mirror across the room — and froze you in place. In the reflection, someone stood behind you. A man, tall and pale, dressed in white collared shirt, neckline framing a single pearl necklace that adds a delicate contrast to his look.

Over it, he wears a black tweed jacket interwoven with silver threads, catching light in subtle glints. His expression wasn’t threatening. If anything, he looked relieved. He smiled softly. “You shouldn’t be afraid. I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned around. Empty. Your throat felt dry. “I’m-” You laughed weakly to yourself, trying to shake it off. “definitely calling the real estate agent tomorrow.”

You climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket tightly around your shoulders. But your body refused to relax. When your breathing finally steadied, you noticed something that made your pulse skip again. Your dress.

It had slipped halfway off your shoulder, your collarbone bare. And on your skin, faint as breath, was the outline of a handprint. You stared at it until your eyes blurred, until the scent of roses filled the air, until sleep pulled you back into the dark.

And somewhere, between waking and dreaming, you heard him whisper again — closer this time, almost tender “I’m glad you’re back, Wen Y/N.”

Morning came gently — too gently for an abandoned place. The light that poured through the curtains was soft and gold, catching the dust in the air like glitter. You sat up slowly, your body still wrapped in that hazy, half-remembered dream. There was no handprint now. No scent of smoke or roses. Just quiet.

“Okay,” you whispered, rubbing your eyes. “Maybe I just freaked myself out.” You checked your phone. Now we’re talking. I can definitely live here, there's a signal. It showed the time, 7:43 a.m. You must’ve slept like a rock.

After washing up with the little water that still ran in the bathroom sink, you wandered downstairs. The house looked different in daylight — less ominous, more tragically beautiful. Every surface was layered with dust except for a few areas: the stairs’ rail, the main hallway, the parlour table. Like someone had constantly wiped them.

You knelt beside one of the portraits in the living room and dusted it gently with your sleeve. The man’s painted gaze met yours again, unblinking and patient. His eyes were dark brown, almost gold under the varnish.

There were at least eight portraits in the entire house, all of him. Each painted a little differently: one in uniform, another in casual robes, another holding a book. You moved to the last one by the fireplace — this time, he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood beside him. The artist hadn’t captured her face clearly, but she wore a white dress and veil, hand resting delicately on the man’s arm. A wedding portrait. You tilted your head, curiosity pricking at you. “So.. you were married,” you murmured, brushing the edge of the frame. “And I’m guessing your wife didn’t inherit the place. Lucky me.”

You took a step back, hands on your hips. The house was huge, but not unmanageable. You could make it feel like home again. So you started cleaning.

At first, it was just idle — opening windows, letting air in, humming faintly under your breath. But then something strange happened. The longer you worked, the more you noticed subtle traces of order that weren’t yours: beds already made, a vase refilled with white roses, curtains tied back differently. Someone — or something — had been maintaining this house all along.

You shook your head, deciding to distract yourself before your imagination spiraled like last night. Grabbing your phone, you opened your messages to message your best friend.

Y/N: guess who inherited a horror movie set 😭

Hao 😈: LMAOOO don’t tell me it’s that creepy old mansion your mom mentioned??

Y/N: yeah. the one with zero neighbors and 800 ghosts per square meter

Hao 😈: pls send pics 😭😭

Y/N: hold up

You snapped a few photos: the cracked chandelier, the grand staircase, one of the portraits — you didn’t even realise until later that it was the wedding one.

Y/N: okay ngl it’s pretty. like victorian pretty. you should come here.

Hao 😈: looks like somewhere a hot ghost would haunt.

Y/N: stop! 😭😭

Hao 😈: no bc imagine waking up w/ a ghost husband like “good morning my bride” 💀

Y/N: STOP IT HAO I SWEAR I’LL MOVE OUT

Hao 😈: u say that but u also said ur into tragic romance when bored soooo 👀

You laughed out loud, the sound echoing across the empty hall.

Y/N: fine. if a ghost husband appears i’ll let u know so u can write my obituary.

Hao 😈: deal

You pocketed your phone, still smiling. The house felt a little less lonely now. By afternoon, sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, scattering coloured light on the floor. You carried an armful of old books back to the library and froze when you saw one already open on the table — one you knew you hadn’t touched.

Its pages were lined with elegant handwriting. You could barely read the faded ink, but you caught one phrase clearly underlined: “Bound beyond death, by name and vow.” A chill ran down your arms. You shut the book gently, heart thudding. “Okay.. enough cleaning for today.”

Outside, the wind had stopped entirely. The forest was silent. The only sound left in the house was your breathing — and somewhere, faintly, a low hum. Like someone singing through the walls.

The house was quiet that night. Too quiet.

You settled at the desk with your laptop, your only source of light a small lamp you’d brought from your old apartment. The rest of the room lay in shadows, the wallpaper peeling faintly in the corners as if the air itself had been holding its breath for years.

You cracked your knuckles, muttering, “Okay. Chapter sixty-three. Let’s do this.” The blinking cursor greeted you like an old friend.

Your book — To Breathe Again — had been a year in the making, and your editor had been hounding you for pages. The irony of working on a novel about necromancy wasn’t lost on you. You even laughed about it when you messaged Minghao earlier those years.

Y/N: if i start writing ghost love stories don’t pick me up, i’m doing the right thing

Hao 😈: u kinky mf

Y/N: shut up 😒

Hao 😈: ok but if u get possessed can u at least ask the ghost to edit my thesis

You shook your head, smiling to yourself before getting back to work. Hours passed unnoticed, the rhythm of typing filling the silence like a heartbeat. Sometimes you swore you could hear faint footsteps pacing the hallway — the kind that made the wooden floor groan softly, like memory itself stretching awake. Every time you paused to listen, the sound stopped.

Around 2 a.m., you leaned back in your chair and sighed. “One more paragraph,” you told yourself. But the words on the screen blurred together, and your head eventually dipped forward. You must’ve dozed off right there at the desk.

When you woke, it was morning again. The sun slanted through the tall windows, warm on your face. You blinked against the light, you woke up in the bed “ahm.. did I sleep walk here last night?” you mumbled, stretching your arms.

But your body felt sore in a way that didn’t make sense — like you’d been tossing in bed for hours, muscles overworked and trembling faintly. Your nightgown clung to your skin, a little too loose at the collar and ends almost reaching your hips.

You frowned, rubbing your eyes. It hurts. That’s when you noticed your laptop. The document you’d been writing was still open — but your last sentence had changed. Instead of “She pressed her hand against the cold stone altar..” the words now read:

She pressed her hand against the warmth of his chest and whispered, “I’m home.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t remember typing that. And yet.. the phrasing sounded exactly like something you would write. You closed the laptop slowly, the faint scent of something — cedar, musk, and roses — lingering in the air, as if someone had been beside you all night, breathing close enough to touch.

The smell of sizzling butter filled the kitchen, the sound of eggs hitting the pan soft and rhythmic. Sunlight pooled faintly through the old lace curtains, dust swirling in golden ribbons. You could almost pretend the house wasn’t haunted — that it was just another quiet morning.

Almost.

You rolled your shoulders, wincing. There was still a deep, dull ache running through your muscles, especially between your thighs. “Did I- sleep weird?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. You brushed off the thought with a nervous laugh and reached for the salt.

It must’ve been another one of those dreams. The kind that felt too real, too heavy. You remembered flashes — pale fingers tracing your skin, a whisper against your ear. The dream man’s touch had been so vivid that your body still remembered the heat. You’d seen his face this time too, clear and unblurred, framed by soft candlelight.

And it wasn’t just any face.

Your gaze drifted across the kitchen, toward the hallway where the portraits hung — the ones you’d noticed. You froze, spatula hovering midair.

The reflection in the hallway mirror caught him perfectly — the same slanted eyes, the same mouth curved like a secret. You blinked, once, twice, stepping closer to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks.

It was him.

The man from your dreams.

Your stomach dropped, pulse quickening in your throat. He’d been here all along, hanging silently in those frames, watching you from the moment you arrived.

You forced a shaky laugh, brushing stray hair from your face. “Okay. Creepy coincidence. It’s just- just the power of suggestion, right?” you told yourself, trying to sound convinced. “You saw the portrait before bed, your brain mashed it into a dream. Simple.”

The portrait didn’t answer. Behind you, the stove hissed. And for the briefest moment — just before you turned off the heat — you thought you heard a low voice whisper near your ear, soft and familiar “Good morning, my bride.”

You froze mid-breath.. again, every hair on your neck standing up. The voice was right there. Close enough that you could feel the faintest whisper of air brush past your ear. Your body reacted before your brain did.

“WHAT THE!” You spun around with the frying spatula raised like a weapon, egg still clinging to the edge. “WHO’S THERE?! I SWEAR I’LL- I’LL FLIP YOU TO HELL!!”

“Please don’t,” came a calm, almost amused voice from somewhere behind you. It wasn’t echoing, wasn’t hollow — it sounded real. Too real. “You’ll stain the walls with yolk, and I quite like our kitchen.”

Your eyes darting around the empty room. No one. Nothing. Just the faint sound of your pan still sizzling. Your heart hammered against your ribs. “Who- who said that?” Silence. Then, softly: “Jun.”

You blinked. “Jun..? What? Huh- ha?!” A small pause, then a low hum that almost sounded like a chuckle. “So you can hear me. That’s good.”

Your grip tightened on the spatula. “Okay. Either I’m losing it, or I’m being haunted by a polite ghost who cares about kitchen hygiene.” “Haunted?” Jun sounded genuinely offended. “That’s a rather cruel word for a husband, don’t you think?”

You gawked at the air. “Excuse me- husband?!” “Yes.” His tone softened, almost fond. “You’ve been wearing my ring.” You glanced down — and nearly dropped the spatula. On your left hand, glinting faintly in the sunlight, was a thin silver band. You had no idea when it got there.

“Oh hell no,” you whispered, yanking it off. “This is not happening.” Jun’s laugh was gentle, teasing. “You always say that. I miss hearing from you.”

“What- no, no, no! Don’t gaslight me, Casper!” “That’s not my name.” “I don’t care!” you shouted at the air. “You-! Get out of my house! Out! Whatever supernatural lease you think you have here, it’s over!”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” he said lightly. “This house is also mine.. and to you.” You dragged a hand down your face, spatula still clutched tight. “Great. Fantastic. I move into a cursed house, and my new roommate is a ghost husband with boundary issues.”

There was a low, almost bashful chuckle. “You weren’t complaining last night.” You froze, eyes wide. “Excuse me?” But the voice didn’t answer this time — just a faint, amused hum that faded into the creak of the old walls.

You pointed the spatula at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare ghost-laugh at me, Jun!” Somewhere, you swore you heard the faintest echo of a grin in his voice, that made you drop your spatula “You’re cute when you’re angry, my bride.”

—

You sat at the kitchen counter, laptop open, breakfast cold. The spatula still lay on the floor where you’d dropped it mid-crisis. Your phone buzzed beside your plate. You snatched it up like a lifeline.

[Group chat: “Emergency Life Updates (aka Therapy)]

Y/N: besties i think my house is haunted

Hao 😈: LMAOOOO it’s been 3 days, that’s a record. what happened suddenly??

Y/N: some man’s voice called me his wife while i was making eggs

Min 😵‍💫: ..was he hot at least???

Y/N: I DON’T KNOW I DIDN’T EVEN SEE HIM

Min 😵‍💫: so u married a ghost sight unseen 💀 bold of u

Y/N: IM NOT MARRIED

Hao 😈: sure kinky mf who’s writing a novel exactly with that plot, i think u manifested it loll

Y/N: also i think he’s a victorian ghost level polite. kept saying “my bride” like bro calm down

Min 😵‍💫: LMFAO STOPPPP this is going in my notes. “haunted by horny regency ghost”

Y/N: NO 😭😭

Hao 😈: did u check the portraits u sent me? maybe he’s one of those men 👀

Y/N: that’s the thing. IT’S HIM.

Hao 😈: oh.

Min 😵‍💫: …babe.

Hao 😈: are u sure ur not just having like, a super vivid lucid dream? u do write romance for a living.

Y/N: im literally wide awake and my ghost just argued with me about kitchen cleanliness

Hao 😈: sounds husband material to me. when’s the wedding??

Min 😵‍💫: more like when was the wedding LMAOOO

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why are my friends like this,” you muttered aloud. Why is Mingyu missing out of all times.. Seokmin and Minghao are no help. From somewhere down the hall, a familiar voice replied, low and teasing, “Are you in distress?”

You shrieked and nearly dropped your phone. “HAO HE’S HERE AGAIN.”

Hao 😈: ok listen before u start performing an exorcism, record it. i want receipts.

Y/N: u want me to RECORD THE DEMON?

Hao 😈: for science.

Y/N: i hate you.

You peeked over your shoulder, heart pounding. “Jun?” “I’m here,” came the smooth reply, closer now. “You don’t need to shout, my love.” You stiffened. “Don’t call me that!” “I can’t,” he said softly, like it was the saddest truth in the world. “You’re all I have left.”

The words hung in the air, so gentle it almost made you forget the absurdity of the moment. Almost. You typed one last message with shaky fingers.

Y/N: ok yeah maybe the ghost husband is kinda sad and not bad

Min 😵‍💫: so u admit he’s hot

Y/N: BLOCKED.

You set your phone down, exhaling deeply. “Okay.. Jun,” you muttered, scanning the empty room. “If we’re really doing this ghost tenant thing, why are you still here?” A quiet laugh brushed your ear like wind.

“Devotion. It ties me to the house.. to you.” You groaned. “Oh my god. He’s poetic too.”

It started the same way it had the last two nights. The soft creak of floorboards. The faint shift of weight on the mattress. The air cooling around you as if someone had opened a window. You didn’t move this time.

“Jun,” you whispered into the dark. “You’re here again, aren’t you?” Silence, then “I always am.” His voice came from beside you, smooth as velvet, threaded with something ancient. “You sleep so restlessly when I’m not.” “I sleep restlessly because there’s a ghost in my bed,” you muttered, sitting up halfway.

“Do you even.. sleep?” He chuckled, the sound low and fond. “No. Not anymore.” You exhaled through your nose, squinting into the faint light spilling through the curtains. “Okay, let’s try this again. Who are you, Jun?”

“I’ve told you,” he said gently. “I am your husband.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer. A name and a marital claim don’t explain why I wake up sore, by the way.” A pause. His voice softened, almost guilty. “I haven’t touched you without your consent.”

You arched a brow toward the darkness. “Really? Because my sore thighs say otherwise.” “I swear it.” His tone deepened, steady and earnest. “Your body aches from something else — the remnants of the bond. The house.. it remembers. And through it, so does your body.”

“The house remembers?” you repeated, half a scoff, half a laugh. “Jun, that’s not- that’s not even science. That’s..” “Magic,” he finished for you, quiet but unyielding.

You stared at the shadows for a long moment. “You expect me to believe that I’m some reincarnated bride living in a haunted love nest?” “I don’t expect you to believe,” he murmured. “Only to listen.”

Your throat tightened — something about the way he said it felt real. Too real. You tried to sound casual. “Then why are you here? Why can’t you just.. move on? Find peace, cross the afterlife, whatever ghosts are supposed to do.”

A silence. Then the faintest brush of a cold fingertip against your wrist — hesitant, reverent. “Because my peace was buried with you.” You froze. “You’ve got the wrong girl,” you whispered, voice trembling despite yourself.

“Perhaps,” Jun said softly. “But tell me, why do you wake up with my name on your lips?” You blinked, stunned. “I- I don’t.” “You do,” he said simply. There was no arrogance in it, only sorrow.

You fell quiet for a moment, staring at the darkness that felt far too alive. “You really didn’t do anything?” “No,” he said, and this time his voice was gentle enough to make you believe him. “Only kissed you when you were dreaming. You looked so lonely.”

Your heart squeezed. “That’s still technically not consent.” He laughed quietly, the sound curling through the air like smoke. “Then I’ll ask properly next time.”

You sighed, lying back down. “There’s not going to be a next time.” “I said that once too,” he murmured. You pulled the blanket over your face, trying to hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic for someone dead.”

“I was dramatic before I died,” he countered, teasing now. “You said you liked it.” You turned to where you thought he was, whispering, “You talk too much.” “And you listen too little.”

Somewhere between his chuckle and your quiet hum of annoyance, your eyes slipped closed. The bed dipped slightly, just enough for you to feel the outline of someone lying beside you. And though you told yourself you didn’t believe in ghosts, you still whispered, just before sleep took you,

“Goodnight, Jun.” A hand — cold but gentle — brushed your hair back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

—

You pushed the front door open with your shoulder, grocery bags cutting into your fingers, sunlight spilling in behind you.

“Jun!” you called out, voice echoing across the empty living room. “I was literally talking to you outside for ten minutes simply about if you do eat or not, and then I realised-” You paused dramatically, setting the bags down on the counter. “You weren’t even there!”

There was a soft hum from somewhere near the hallway — warm, amused. “Why are you talking to yourself outside?” Jun said. You glared toward the voice. “Don’t turn this on me. The delivery guy looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I thought you’re with me. This past few weeks, you never leave me alone”

He chuckled quietly, the sound wrapping around you. “Would you rather I scare other people half to death? Also, I can’t help you outside anyway”

You huffed, unpacking the paper bags. “Still. You could’ve… I don’t know. Come with me? You never go out.” There was a pause — not defensive, just words. “I can’t,” he said simply. Your hands stilled on a carton of milk. “Can’t?”

“The house is my boundary,” he explained. “My anchor. I’m bound here — by the curse, by memory, by you. Step beyond the threshold and I start to fade.” You turned toward the sound, heart softening. “That’s awful.”

“It’s tolerable,” he murmured. “I was alone here for so long before you came.” Your chest tightened. “Jun..” He spoke again, light but wistful. “Besides, I like it here. You fill the rooms with noise and scent and warmth. It’s almost enough to feel alive again.”

You rolled your eyes — to hide the sudden pang of emotion. “You sound like a bad poem.” “I was a bad poet once,” he teased. “You threw my drafts into the fire.” You froze mid-unpacking. “What?” He laughed, low and delighted. “Ah — perhaps that was another life.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.” “I missed being called that,” he said softly.

The quiet after that settled gently, like a comfortable silence between old friends, or husband and wife..? You busied yourself with arranging the vegetables, pretending you didn’t notice the way the air thickened slightly around you — Jun standing close, unseen but undeniably there.

“Hey,” you said after a moment. “If you can’t go out.. what do you do all day when I’m gone?” “I watch,” he said simply. “Creepy.” “Protectively,” he amended, amused. “I walk through the halls. Listen to the wind. Sometimes I read over your shoulder when you’re writing.”

You shot a look toward the dark corner of the kitchen. “That’s definitely creepy.” “Then perhaps,” he said, voice warm with laughter, “I’ll keep doing it.” You couldn’t help it — you laughed too, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Jun.”

“I was told I made an impossible husband,” he said, tone dipping into something soft, almost nostalgic. “But I like to think I’m improving.” You ignored the way your heart skipped. “Keep the flattery for someone you can actually touch.”

Another pause — this one quieter, heavier. Then: “I can touch you.. just to remind you,” he murmured.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. The light from the window dimmed as clouds rolled in outside, shadows crawling gently across the old wood floor. You pretended to focus on your groceries again, voice light but trembling slightly.

“Well,” you said, “if you’re going to touch me, at least help me unpack next time.” A faint rustle answered you — the bag of rice shifting slightly on its own, sliding closer to the cabinet.

You froze. Then laughed, a soft disbelieving sound. “Show-off.” From behind you hear his amused whisper, low and tender “Only for my wife.”

—

It was past midnight, the kind of hour where even the wind outside seemed half-asleep. The house was wrapped in silence, save for the soft rustle of paper as you turned another page of your book. The lamp beside your bed cast a warm circle of light that didn’t quite reach the corners of the room, where the dark always seemed to breathe.

You could feel him there. “Jun,” you said quietly, without looking up. “Are you here?” A pause — then that familiar voice, soft and close. “I’m always here.”

You smiled faintly, still reading. “That’s supposed to be comforting, right?” “I suppose that depends,” he murmured, “on whether you believe I’m haunting you or protecting you.”

You tilted your head toward the voice. “You keep saying you’re not haunting me, but it sure feels like it sometimes.” “Would a haunt make your tea every morning?” he teased gently.

“That was you?” You blinked. “I thought I was just.. sleepwalking.” “I can’t do much,” he said quietly, “but I can move little things when the night is kind to me.”

You shut the book slowly, the words blurring. “Why do you do it?” “Because you forget to take care of yourself when you write,” he said simply. “You get lost. I don’t want to see you vanish the way I did.”

Your breath caught. “The way you did?” He didn’t answer at first — only silence, deep and heavy, filled the room. Then, softly “I loved too fiercely. Enough to tether my soul here.” You looked toward the darkness, where you thought his voice had come from. “For her? Your wife?”

A faint laugh, like wind through old glass. “For you.” The room suddenly felt colder, your heart lurching against your ribs. “Jun, that’s-” “I know,” he interrupted gently. “It doesn’t make sense. Not to you. Not yet.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, eyes scanning the space though you knew you wouldn’t see him. “You sound like a tragic novel waiting to happen.” “Perhaps that’s why you were drawn here,” he said softly. “Writers always return to unfinished stories.”

You exhaled, half a sigh, half a shaky laugh. “You make everything sound like fate.” “Isn’t it?” His voice was closer now — you swore you felt the faintest brush of fingers along your hair, so gentle you might’ve imagined it.

“You should sleep,” he murmured. “The world outside can wait.” “Are you staying?” you asked, eyes drooping. “I never left.” You smiled faintly, a small surrender, before your eyelids fluttered closed.

Jun stayed — unseen but so achingly near, his presence hovering like a heartbeat in the dark. And when your breathing evened out, his whisper came, softer than a sigh “You once told me you’d find me again. I suppose you always keep your promises.”

The cafe was the kind that looked like a Pinterest board come to life — soft lighting, fern leaves drooping over every table, the faint hum of an espresso machine mixing with lo-fi music. You sat by the window with your laptop open, pretending to edit your manuscript while your three best friends interrogated you like you were on trial.

“So,” Hao started, sipping his iced latte dramatically, “how’s married life?” You choked on your drink. “What- excuse me?” Min snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You literally sent us a picture of another portrait and said, He’s kinda hot for a dead guy. Don’t tell me you’re not crushing on the house ghost.”

You pressed your fingers against your temple. “I was joking!” “Were you, though?” Gyu cut in, deadpan as ever. “You also texted last night that someone made you tea again. Either you have a kind spirit or a trespasser with excellent domestic skills.”

Seokmin gasped theatrically. “Or maybe both!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s a ghost.” “Then why are you blushing?” Minghao leaned forward with a grin. “Look at her, Seok- she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” you hissed, but your cheeks burned hotter than the cappuccino in front of you. “He’s just..” You stopped, realising how ridiculous it would sound to admit that Jun talked to you every night. That he teased you, cared for you, comforted you in ways that humans can’t even do.

Mingyu leaned back, stirring his coffee lazily. “You’re acting like you’ve got a boyfriend who only comes out after dark.” You glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Seokmin propped his chin on his hands. “Not yet.”

Hao laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “God, this is gonna be one of her novels, isn’t it? Lonely writer moves into a haunted house, ghost falls in love with her, she says it’s a curse, but he says it’s destiny-”

“Stop quoting my life!” you interrupted, waving your spoon like a weapon. “You guys are the worst.” “We’re the realists,” Min said, still smirking. “You just happen to be living inside your own plot twist.”

For a moment, they all laughed, that kind of carefree, echoing laugh that only happens in midday cafes. You joined in too, trying to drown out the strange warmth you felt under your ribs.

Your laughter stuttered, your eyes darting toward the window. The glass reflected only you and your friends — no one else. You sometimes think every time you’re outside, is he bored at home? Is he okay? That quiet presence. A part of you just wants to stay at home.

“See?” Min teased, nudging you. “She’s spacing out. Probably thinking about her ghost husband.” You forced a laugh, looking back at him, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something like that.”

The cafe hummed with lazy afternoon chatter. You sat across from Minghao, Seokmin, and Mingyu, who somehow turned what was supposed to be a casual catch-up into a full-blown roast session.

“You’re into ghosts now, huh? So that’s why you’re not dating anyone alive?” Hao said, chuckling. You jabbed a straw at him. “Minghao, I swear to God-” Gyu raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name again?” You hesitated. The word caught on your tongue. “Jun.”

All three of them stared for a beat before Min smirked. “Jun? You even named him?” “I didn’t name him!” you said quickly. “That’s what he-” You froze. “That’s what his real wife, maybe, called him.”

“Right.” Mingyu nodded, clearly unconvinced. “So this ghost talks to you, cooks for you, and sleeps beside you-” “He doesn’t sleep beside me!” you blurted, heat rising to your cheeks. “He just- he-” “Uh-huh.” Seokmin grinned. “You’re doomed, man. She’s in deep.”

You tried to laugh it off, but your pulse was unsteady. Because later, when you were back home and the house greeted you with that quiet stillness, the laughter from earlier still echoed faintly in your head — you called Jun, yet no one was responding.

You frowned. He always answered when you came home. Even just a faint, teasing whisper — You’re late, little human. But tonight, nothing. Just the quiet hum of air through the vents and the faint ticking of the antique clock in the foyer.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, forcing a laugh. “So we’re doing the ghost-silent-treatment thing now? Cute.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, slamming a cabinet or two a little louder than necessary. Still nothing. The quiet felt heavier now — not the peaceful kind, but the kind that watches you.

“Jun.” You called again, voice sharper. “If you’re mad at me for something, at least say it. Don’t just.. vanish.” The air stirred faintly behind you, like a breath on your neck. You turned, but the space was empty. A shiver ran down your arms.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re sulking because I went out with my friends.” You rolled your eyes, more to convince yourself than anything. “You’re not seriously mad, right?” Still nothing. You exhaled. “Fine. Silent treatment it is. You win. I’ll just talk to myself then.”

You started rambling, pacing the living room like a stand-up comic trying to fill dead air. “For the record, they’re friends. Normal, breathing, alive friends who buy me coffee and don’t haunt my house.”

The chandelier above flickered faintly. You stopped. “Did I strike a nerve there?” A faint hum of energy prickled across your skin — the sign that he was listening, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You sighed, softer now. “You know, it’s kind of unfair. You disappear when I talk to other people, but then you act like I’m supposed to just stay here waiting for you to materialise out of thin air.” The silence stretched.

You pressed your lips together. “I’m not yours, Jun.”

That’s when you heard it — not a loud voice, but something that slid into your mind like a thought that wasn’t yours. “Aren’t you?” You froze. The temperature dropped suddenly, enough for your breath to fog in front of you.

“You wear my ring,” his voice murmured now, closer, though he still wasn’t visible. “You live in my house. You sleep in my bed. You call my name every night without realising it.”

You spun toward the sound. “You didn’t answer when I came home. You scared me.” “I know.” The reply was soft, low, guilty — but underneath it, something darker stirred. “You talked about me with them,” Jun continued, voice drifting between the walls, nearer and nearer. “You laughed. You blushed. Did you enjoy that?”

“Jun,” you warned, heart pounding, “how did you even-? Don’t do this.” He let out a breath of what almost sounded like a laugh. “You think I don’t feel it? Every time someone says your name, every time you smile at someone else, it burns.”

Your pulse quickened, a strange mix of fear and warmth tightening in your chest. “You’re not even alive, Jun. What are you implying?” “Maybe not,” he whispered. “But you still make me feel it.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the faint outline of his form starting to shimmer near the hallway mirror — not solid yet, just smoke and memory. “Then don’t disappear like that again,” you said quietly. “If you can feel something, then talk to me. Don’t just.. leave.”

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the faintest smile crossed his half-formed face. “You missed me.” You scoffed. “You were sulking.” “I was angry,” he corrected. “Because for a moment, I thought maybe you preferred your men.” You looked at the mirror — at his faint, sorrowful expression behind your reflection.

“They're not my men.. they’re my friends. You’re impossible,” you whispered. “And you,” Jun said softly, “are the only thing I’ve wanted in centuries.”

The room stilled. The air grew warmer. You felt the ghost of fingers trace the outline of your wrist — not cold, but not quite warm either. Just real enough to make you tremble.

Jun's reflection leaned closer, his gaze locked on your lips. His hands moved from your wrist to either side of your head, trapping you gently between his ghostly palms. “Say you're mine,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t answer. He held your hands and pulled you near the mirror, “Do you need to see me, for you to talk?” he said, a little annoyed, you’re not sure whether to you or to himself. You looked directly at the mirror, memorising his ethereal face.

His hands framed your face, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he stared into your eyes, making you look at his direction directly, nothing, you can see nothing. But you could feel his presence, his breath ghosting over your neck. “I'm not in the mirror, my wife” he murmured, voice coming from both directions. “I'm here.”

The ghostly hands slid from your cheeks to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He leaned in closer, his translucent lips hovering just above yours. “Let me kiss you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Please.”

You smiled.. “only because you asked this time.” Jun's reflection smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He loved when you teased him, even a little. It meant you weren't scared of him. “Only because I asked?” He repeated softly, his voice ghosting over your lips. “You admitted before that you did without my consent.”

His expression turned serious, one hand moving to gently grasp your chin, turning your face slightly as if preparing to kiss you but stopping himself. “I’m sorry. That was my mistake.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “This time.. will be different.”

He stared at you intently, his hands steady and gentle. “I'll ask for permission every time. I'll wait for your agreement. And if you say no, I'll stop.” His voice was quiet, sincere. His eyes searched yours, looking for understanding.

You parted your lips slightly to answer. “Then go on.” That was all Jun needed. He surged forward, capturing your mouth softly at first. He tested your response — one hand cupped your cheek possessively while the other slid around your waist. You hummed softly, making him deeper. Now this is weird but also kinda hot.. I’m kissing the air.

Jun’s kiss grew more insistent, his tongue gently probing your mouth. He tasted sweet, like a phantom memory of honey and mint. His hands roamed from your waist downwards until they gripped onto your hips firmly pulling you closer towards him. You can feel him.

You gasped against his mouth as he pulled you closer, his cold hands gripping your hips tightly. Jun took advantage of your open mouth, deepening the kiss even further by pushing his tongue inside. He tangled it with yours, exploring your mouth thoroughly as if he was trying to memorise the taste of you. “Fucking hell, you taste like heaven.”

“For someone who’s dead, you curse so strongly.” You said laughing in between the kisses. In the mirror, you can see him smirking against your lips, his voice husky and amused. “Even ghosts can curse when they’re kissing someone they’ve been longing for.” His hands slid down to your thighs lifting them slightly as if trying to pull them around his waist.

You giggled, the sound muffled against his mouth. Jun groaned, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He pulled harder, attempting to wrap your legs around his unseen waist. The mirror grew warmer, fogging up completely as their kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

“Jun.. my imaginations may be wild, yet I can’t do this to someone I can only see in the mirror”

Jun’s smirk faltered. For a second, his reflection looked as though it was flickering — as if even his smile could no longer hold shape. Then he stepped back, his eyes dark and distant. “You can’t see me because you’re not supposed to.”

Before you could ask what that meant, his hand — cold but firm — grasped your wrist. The mirror rippled like water as he pulled you through the hallway. You stumbled after him, feet barely touching the ground, until you reached a door you had never opened before. It was the last one at the end of the corridor at the third floor — carved oak, locked since the day you moved in.

“Jun, wait-” But the door creaked open on its own, revealing a dimly lit room heavy with the scent of old wood and faded perfume. Dust particles drifted lazily in the air, but beneath the decay, everything was preserved. A canopy bed stood at the center, its sheets neat, untouched. A wedding veil lay folded at the pillow’s edge.

“This room” you whispered. “I never-” “Because you weren’t meant to remember it.”

Jun’s voice was quieter now, stripped of playfulness, stripped of warmth. He stood by the window, you can’t even see his figure under the pale afternoon light. You could see the garden though — but you know his eyes were solid, endless, tired.

“You walk through this house like a stranger because you are one. But once, you weren’t.” Your chest tightened. “What are you saying?” He looked at you, a faint tremor in his hands. “You can’t see me because you can’t even remember who I am.”

The words felt like a knife — sharp, but dull in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I just moved here. I just-” Jun shook his head. “No. You came back.” He stepped closer. His voice softened, trembling with a kind of desperation you’d never heard from him before.

“You promised me you would, before you died.” Your breath caught. “Died?” “Before you died,” he said again, slower this time, as if tasting every syllable. “You said you would find me. You said, ‘Wait for me. Even if it takes lifetimes, I’ll come back.’”

You blinked rapidly, a faint ringing in your ears. Your mind refused to accept it — but your body remembered something. A pulse in your fingertips. A flash of a wedding ring. A man’s laughter. A voice saying My Jun.

He continued, eyes glimmering like glass. “I remembered everything. That’s my curse. I have lived every life remembering you — who you were, how you died, how you looked at me the day we said our vows. Every damn lifetime.”

The room felt like it was spinning. You staggered back a step and looked around the room, dizzy. That’s where you realise, this room is the real master bedroom, with another portrait.. where Jun and the same woman from downstairs. The difference is that you could see her face clearly now.

A face that is very familiar to you. A face that you see everyday. It’s your face. It’s you. “No.. Jun, that can’t be real. That’s-” “You’ve always said that,” he whispered. “Every life. Every time we meet, you never remember at first. But I always do. And every time, I find you.”

You shook your head, heart pounding painfully. “Then why am I here? Why this house?” “Because it’s where we lived,” Jun said simply. “Where I built a home for you. And where I died waiting when you didn’t come back.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked around the room, his gaze softening with memory. “They called it devotion. I called it punishment. I’ve been bound here, in this house, between life and death, waiting for you. Every creak of the floorboards, every breeze through the window — it’s been you I’ve been calling.”

You sank onto the edge of the bed, the veil beside you brushing against your hands. “Then.. I died?” Jun nodded slowly. “You did. In this life, you lost control of your car the day before our wedding anniversary. You were coming here.” He knelt before you, his touch barely grazing your knee, but warm now, almost human.

“You survived,” he whispered. “But you lost your memory. You forgot me.” Tears burned your eyes before you even realised you were crying. “So that’s why I can’t see you. Because part of me still refuses to remember.”

Jun smiled sadly, brushing your tears away with fingers that faded halfway through the motion. “You can’t see me because you don’t believe in me anymore. And without your belief, I’m barely here.”

You tried reaching out to touch him, his hands guiding your hands to his face — his cheek, his hair, anything solid — but your hand passed through his face like mist.

Until it didn’t.

Warmth bloomed under your touch. Solid. Living. Real. You gasped softly, feeling your heartbeat stumble as Jun’s features sharpened in front of you — the faint curve of his smile, the mole beneath his eye, the soft slope of his nose. He was no longer just a shimmer in the mirror; he was right there.

He was beautiful. And familiar. He’s divine.

The air pulsed once and then everything tilted. The floor beneath your feet dissolved, colours shifting, walls melting into light. You blinked and suddenly, the world changed.

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of white sakura trees, their petals falling like snow. You stood under an arch woven with lilies and pearls, your hands trembling as Jun slid a ring onto your finger.

“Do you promise to haunt me even if I die first?” you teased, your voice catching from laughter and tears. Jun’s lips curved into that same half-smile you’d later dream about. “I’d rather haunt the world than live in it without you.”

You threw your head back, laughing softly, pressing your forehead to his. “That sounds like a curse.”He smiled against your lips. “Then I’ll gladly be cursed.”

—

You stood in front of the house you live in now — only brighter, newer. Boxes piled high on the porch, sunlight filtering through the vines climbing the walls. Jun appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Our forever home,” he said, kissing your temple.

“It’s old,” you murmured. “And it creaks.” “So do we, sometimes.” You laughed, swatting at him. “That’s not romantic.”

He leaned closer, whispering, “Then let me try again.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Our love will creak too, old, stubborn, and impossible to let go.”

—

The sound of clinking porcelain. You sat at the wooden kitchen table, hair still messy from sleep, while Jun poured you tea with that same careful grace he did everything with.

He kissed the back of your hand. “You always forget breakfast when you write.” “And you always act like I’ll starve in two hours,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Because you will,” he replied, sliding the cup toward you. “My wife, the novelist who forgets she has a body.” You smiled, reaching out to tug him closer by the tie. “You talk too much hubby.”

He chuckled. “I love you” you smiled “I love you more”

—

The clock struck midnight, the house silent except for the faint hum of the record player. You were in your pajamas, barefoot on the hardwood floor. Jun appeared behind you, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me,” he said simply. “There’s no music.” “There’s us.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his. He spun you once, your laughter echoing in the dim light. The two of you swayed lazily, the world shrinking to the warmth of his hands on your waist and the sound of your quiet breaths syncing together.

—

Thunder boomed outside, rain drumming against the windows. You were both huddled in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a single blanket. “Tell me something true,” you murmured, tracing his palm with your finger.

Jun’s gaze softened. “When I first saw you, I thought I had seen you before. Like in a dream that I’d already lived.” “And did you?” you asked.

His silence was long, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Maybe I’ll tell you in another life.” You frowned. “That’s unfair.” “Then stay with me in this one,” he whispered, voice low, almost pleading.

Both of you laughed, as the warmth between you two became one, cuddling at the stormy weather at the bed.

—

“Jun, stop reading over my shoulder!” you groaned, swatting him lightly with your pen. “I can’t help it,” he said, grinning. “Your characters sound like us.” “They do not.”

“They do. ‘The stubborn man who won’t take no for an answer,’” he quoted dramatically, pointing to the page. “That’s clearly me.” You threw a crumpled paper at him. “Then I’ll kill your character next.”

“Then I’ll haunt you,” he teased, eyes glimmering. You rolled your eyes. “Then I’ll marry you out of guilt.” “Perfect. My plan worked.”

—

Sunlight peeked through sheer curtains, painting soft stripes across the bed. Jun’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his chest rising and falling behind you.

“Jun,” you murmured sleepily. “You’re heavy.” He chuckled, half-asleep. “You used to like it.” “I changed my mind.” He buried his face into your hair. “Too late. You married me.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. “You’re impossible.” He kissed your shoulder. “So are you. That’s why it works.”

—

The dining room was dim except for candles you hastily lit on a lopsided cake. Jun entered the room and froze, eyes widening as you yelled, “Happy birthday!” “I told you not to-”

“You think I listen to you?” you said, grinning. “Make a wish before I eat it all.” He stared at you for a moment before blowing the candles out. “I already did.”

You blinked. “What’d you wish for?” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “To live long enough to grow old with you.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s so cheesy.”

But he smiled softly. “Cheesy things are true things.”

—

The smell of oil paint filled the room. You sat by the window, sunlight catching in your hair while Jun worked on a portrait of you. “You’re taking forever,” you complained, swinging your legs.

He looked up from the canvas, smirking. “You move too much.” “I’m bored.” “Then talk to me.” You tilted your head. “What should I say?”

“Say something I can remember,” he said. You smiled. “I love you.” He paused, brush mid-air. “That’ll do.”

The memories collided with reality, your breath ragged as you stumbled back. The house, the mirror, the kitchen — everything shimmered and settled again into the dim golden light of dusk.

You were crying. Not from fear, but from the weight of recognition. “Jun,” you whispered, your hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I remember everything.”

Jun smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. His thumb brushed the corner of your lips like he’d done a thousand times before. “You came back to me.”

Your lips trembled. “And you waited.” He nodded once, a soft, broken laugh escaping him. “Every lifetime.”

His smile turned into a hungry kiss as he pressed you against the old bed where you shared countless moments together you’ve forgotten. His hands roamed over familiar curves remembered through centuries of waiting — for this exact moment where memory returned fully between two souls meant to be entwined forever.

His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed along your jawline. Suddenly, he pressed a cold finger to your neck, activating a necromantic chill that made you gasp and arch into him. “Do you remember my touch?” He whispered huskily

A wicked smile spread across his face as he remembered your kinks. He reached over to the bedside table and lit a candle, the flame flickering to life in the dim room. He started playing with temperatures, his breath, his touch being entirely cold, and the candle.. the wax. He dribbled hot wax onto your collarbone, watching as you gasped and your eyes fluttered closed. He knew exactly what you liked.

He kissed down your neck, his mouth alternately hot and cold like fire and ice. “Wife.. you taste so good.” His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone with wax on it as he slowly unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more skin for him to worship.

One hand continued the slow torture of dripping hot wax onto your skin while the other hand slipped under your bra, teasing your nipple with cold fingertips. “Cold or hot first?” He didn't wait for an answer, switching between hot wax poured onto your chest and his ice-cold hands caressing your skin.

This leaves you shivering and gasping beneath his touch. He unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere as he continued his assault on your senses, his mouth claiming one hardening nipple while his fingers played with the other.

Junhui worshipped your body like he’d been starved for centuries — because he had been. His mouth trailed down to your stomach, kissing and licking each inch of skin he uncovered. He unbuttoned your pants slowly, almost reverently, pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.

He spread your legs gently, his cold hands contrasting with the heat of your core. He leaned down, blowing a cool breath over your clit before he spoke. “I remember everything about you. Every moan, every gasp, every shiver.”

“And I remember how you used to drive me crazy with that mouth of yours.” You spread your legs wider, teasing him deliberately. Jun groaned, pressing a freezing cold kiss directly onto your clit. “Stop teasing me with your knowledge of my body,”

His cold tongue replaced his lips, licking a slow path up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. He used his fingers to spread you open further, his ice-cold digits pushing inside you suddenly. You gasped and bucked against him. “Uhmm-hmm jun..” “You used to call me hubby.” He murmured.

“My hubby,” He growled against your sensitive folds, his fingers curling inside you while his tongue worked overtime on your clit. He remembered every spot that made you moan hubby. His other hand snaked up to pinch one of your nipples hard, making you arch into him.

“You used to grab my hair and fuck my face when I do this..” He demonstrated by sucking hard on your clit while pushing three cold fingers deep inside you, curling them exactly how you used to love. “Ugh! Fuck-”

You instantly wrapped your legs around his head, gripping his hair tightly and riding his face as you moaned his name like a prayer. Jun moaned loudly, his fingers freezing cold inside you as he remembered how much he loved being used by you.

“God, you always ride my face hard when I touch you like this.” He added another finger, spreading them wide inside you, hitting your favourite spot. He blew cold air onto your clit again, watching your body tightly coil with remembered pleasure.

“Stop reminiscing,” You pushed his head away sharply. He laughed softly, his mouth wet with your arousal. “No more remembering how you used to bounce on my face?” He teased, trying to pull your hips back down onto his mouth. You smacked his head lightly, “Asshole.”

He caught your hips sharply, pulling you back. He spread your legs wide, feasting on you like a starving man. His fingers still inside you, curving them perfectly as he ate you loudly, slurping and sucking your clit like it was his last meal.

Your body tightened like a bowstring as he remembered exactly how you liked it. Within minutes, you were crying out, your legs shaking as you came hard against his mouth. “Junhui- God! Aghh Oh my- fuck!”

He kept eating you through your orgasm, his cold fingers never stopping their relentless attack on that sweet spot inside you. He loved how you tasted, how you moaned his name like a dirty prayer. When your legs finally stopped shaking, he pulled away slowly, licking his lips.

He sat up, his face glistening with your juices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “You taste even better than I remembered,” he said huskily. He spread his legs slightly, palming his hard, cold erection through his pants.

“My turn, hubby.”

You smirked and slowly removed his jacket and white collared shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs. He lifted his hips so you could pull down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. His massive, erect dick sprang free, slapping against his stomach with a wet smack.

His hands came up to grip your hair as you looked down at his length. He was already cold and hard, leaking pre-cum. “Take it in your mouth,” he ordered roughly, his Chinese accent thickening with desire. His hand tightened in your hair possessively. “Open Wen Y/N”

You spread your lips slowly, taking the tip of him into your hot mouth. He hissed sharply, his hips bucking slightly. “Damn it,” He muttered softly, watching your wet mouth stretch around him. “You used to deep throat like a pro.” He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you slightly.

His eyes rolled back as you suddenly took him deep into your throat without warning, your nose pressing against his balls. He let out a choked groan — “Fucking hell..” His hands tangled in your hair desperately as you started bobbing up and down rapidly, sucking hard “Shit.. shit- shit, you’re even better now!”

His cold dick throbbed in your mouth as you kept deepthroating him, your tongue pressing against the sensitive vein underneath. He could barely speak, his voice coming out strained “Fuck...fuck..fuck! Goddam- Ughh”

With a loud, muffled groan, he came down your throat, his hips jerking uncontrollably. You swallowed every drop before pulling off with a wet pop. He fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. “Still so noisy” You commented dryly, crawling up his body.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent. “Sure sure..” He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse. “You’re the loud one. Always screaming my name.” He started kissing and sucking on your neck possessively. “My hubby.. still so good for me.”

He rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his. I can’t even see the ceiling. His cold hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. His dark brown eyes bore into yours intensely. “Turns out, my wife gives even better head now. I wonder how else she’s improved.”

One hand slid under your thigh. “Spread for me, Y/N. Let me check if that tight hole still belongs to me only.” His voice was low and commanding.

He pushed your legs apart roughly, his cold dick already hardening again. I’m fucking a ghost. He’s so cold. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head against your sensitive spot. “You know what I love about this position?” He asked, his voice husky.

“What?” You barely said, “It lets me go deep,” He answered darkly, pushing your thighs back sharply and slamming inside you hard. He hit the bottom instantly, making you cry out loudly. “See?” He pulled back and thrust hard again, making you bounce on the bed. “Noisy.”

He started pounding into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your loud moans and cries. One hand remained on your wrist above your head holding it back while the other on your thighs “Fuck-” He groaned, “Too loud, my wife”

His thrusts became deeper and harder, hitting that spot inside you perfectly. Your loud moans turned into high-pitched screams as he fucked you brutally. “Shut up...shut up”

He slapped a hand over your mouth as you screamed during another deep thrust. “AHHH-” “Jesus,” He muttered against your neck, “You sound like a fucking porn star.” He bit down on your shoulder to muffle his own groan, still fucking you mercilessly.

Your world turned into a blur of cold hands gripping your body painfully, eyes glinting menacingly above you, and a ghostly cock pounding into you. You could feel every inch of him stretching you open, hitting depths you never knew existed. “Mmph..”

You felt possessed, fucked by a literal ghost who showed no mercy. His cold body slammed against yours relentlessly, making the headboard bang against the wall loudly. Your screams were echoing, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Tears streamed down your face from the intense pleasure-pain as he hit your cervix with every thrust. Your nails scrambled against his back, leaving red marks on his pale skin. You felt like you were being claimed by a supernatural being, completely at his mercy. “Nghh!”

Your tears only seemed to fuel his hunger for you. He watched, mesmerised, as they spilled down your cheeks and dripped onto the pillow. “Adorable,” He groaned, his voice laced with dark desire. “My pretty wife crying while I fuck you stupid.”

Mid-thrust, an abrupt memory flashed through his mind — the candle he had lit earlier, still burning softly nearby. A wicked smirk crossed his ghostly face as an idea struck him. “Hold that thought..” He suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and whimpering. “Don't move.”

He quickly reached the candle, dipping his cold fingers into the melted wax. The room fell silent except for your laboured breathing and soft sniffles. “I forgot you’re a ghost, and how you can’t feel pain.” He chuckled then looming over you with a sinister grin and wax-covered fingers. “Spread wider,” He ordered darkly. “Let's play a little game.”

Without warning, he pressed the warm wax against your sensitive entrance, pushing it inside you slowly. You gasped at the foreign feeling, your hole stretching to accommodate the wax. He added more, filling you up with the warm substance before snapping his fingers. “Cold now.” The wax instantly hardened inside you,

Leaving you with a feeling of extreme fullness and pressure. He pushed your legs back even further, until your knees were practically touching your ears. “Now, let's see how long this pretty little human can hold still while I fuck her with a frozen, wax-filled hole.”

He lined up his cock again, pushing the head against your entrance. He groaned as he slowly slid in, the hardened wax making you even tighter than before. “Goddamn,” He grunted, “You feel insane right now.”

With a sharp thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you. The sudden intrusion forced a loud, strangled moan from your throat. “Ahh..! F-fuck..!” You bucked your hips instinctively, only for the wax to shift inside you uncomfortably. “N-no...ahh- st-still..”

He wrapped a hand around your throat to hold you down as he started thrusting his hips slowly, each thrust causing the wax to grind against your prostate pleasurably. Your moans turned into broken whimpers as he fucked you with that unrelenting fullness. “Shh, my wife.. just take it”

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours with wet smacks. The wax inside you began to melt slightly from the friction, creating a warm, sticky sensation that had you moaning uncontrollably. “Ahh..ahh...ahhh!”

Your loud, desperate moans sent him over the edge. He slammed into you one last time, hitting your prostate dead on as he came hard inside you. “FUCK!” He groaned loudly, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot cum. “HUBBY!” You screamed as you cream his cock as well inside.

He stayed buried inside you, his heavy breathing gradually slowing as he nuzzled against your neck. The melted wax and his release dripped out of you messily, coating your inner thighs. After a moment, he pulled out slowly, watching as more fluid followed. “Mmm”

You looked down at the mess between your legs, then back up at him with confused eyes. “How.. how are you cumming? You're a ghost” He smirked mischievously, “Ghost sex has its perks, wife. My spirit can still produce semen.”

“And trust me, it feels just as good as real cum would.” He chuckled softly, floating down to clean himself up with some tissues he got at the night stand. “Plus, being dead means I can fuck you for hours without getting tired.”

Your eyes widen, completely not understanding what happened just now, “can I get pregnant..? BY A GHOST?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then shook his head with a soft laugh. “No, Y/N. You can’t get pregnant from ghost sex.” He explained, “My spirit might produce semen, but it lacks the necessary components to impregnate anyone.”

“Oh ok,” you sighed, relieved. His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as he went back up to top you, hovering between your legs. “So basically, I can fill you up as much as I want, and there’s zero risk of an actual baby.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and the night was long.

The morning light slipped through the old lace curtains, pooling soft gold across the floorboards. The air was warmer than usual — almost gentle, like the house itself didn’t want to disturb you. You stirred under the sheets, your body still aching in ways you couldn’t explain, every muscle sore but tingling with something that felt like longing.

This bed feels more like me, than the other bed. I love to be back.

Jun sat beside the bed, his elbow resting on the headboard, chin on his hand, smiling softly. “You’re awake,” he murmured. His voice was as calm as ever, but there was something different in his gaze — something steady, quiet, almost resigned.

You groaned, trying to sit up. “Remind me to never let a ghost manhandle me again.” He laughed — that deep, melodic laugh that used to echo down the hallways when the house was still alive. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you tried to swing your legs off the bed, “that was before I realized ghosts apparently have stamina.”

Jun leaned forward, catching your wrist before you could stand. “Careful,” he said softly. “Don’t move too fast. You’re still sore.” You rolled your eyes. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” he teased, standing and offering his hand anyway. “But let me handle you for once.” You took his hand without thinking — it felt solid now, warm even. The thought almost made your chest ache. “Since when did you get so smug?”

He smiled faintly, leading you toward the kitchen. “Since I got my wife back.” You froze mid-step, and for a moment, your breath caught. He said it so casually, like it was the most ordinary truth in the world. But something in his tone — that faint tremor beneath the calm — made your heart twist.

“Jun..” He only smiled again, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Breakfast first. Heavy hearts need coffee.”

He made pancakes. You didn’t even think ghosts could cook, but the smell of butter and sugar filled the air, and when you asked how he did it, Jun just shrugged. “You said you missed the scent of home,” he said, flipping one perfectly golden. “So I borrowed it from your memory.” You laughed. “That’s creepy and romantic. I can’t decide which.” “Can’t it be both?”

The rest of the day passed in a strange sort of domestic bliss. You both cleaned the bedroom — or at least, you did, and Jun hovered around you, pretending to help but mostly teasing you. He brushed wax off your cheek, steadying you every time you leaned too close.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked suddenly, when you caught him watching the sunlight through the window. He turned to you, smiling faintly. “Miss what?” “Being alive.” For a heartbeat, his smile faltered. Then he said quietly, “Not anymore. Everything I ever wanted.. is standing right here.”

You stared at him — the soft glow in his eyes, the way his voice trembled like he was holding back something heavy. You didn’t press. Instead, you reached out and brushed his hand — and this time, it felt entirely real.

Jun blinked, then smiled again, softer this time. “See? You’re getting stronger.” You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead — his lips almost warm now. “It means you’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Even when I’m not here to make pancakes for you.”

You looked up sharply. “What are you talking about-” “Nothing,” he interrupted, smiling again — that same too-gentle, too-final smile. “Just saying.. ghosts like me don’t get forever. So promise me, if I ever fade away” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “…don’t stop living.”

You didn’t know why, but the air grew heavier around you. The sunlight dimmed. You forced a laugh. “You’re being dramatic again.”

Jun chuckled softly, though his eyes were glistening in the light. “Maybe. But if being dramatic lets me stay in your memory, then I’ll take it.”

You stared at him for a long time, the ache in your chest tightening, and for a fleeting moment, you swore you could see through him — just a shimmer, like heat rising from pavement. But you blinked, and he was solid again. Smiling. Alive in his own way.

And so, you smiled back. “You’ll have to work harder than that to get rid of me.” He leaned in and kissed your lips. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

—

The night came gentle, like the world itself didn’t want to wake you. You sat on the veranda with Jun, a single candle flickering between you — its flame bending and swaying with the wind. The garden was quiet, the air thick with that faint sweetness of rose and memory.

Jun leaned back in his chair, watching you instead of the stars. You didn’t notice at first how still he’d become. “I used to dream of this,” he said softly. “Of what?” “Peace.” He smiled faintly, eyes never leaving your face. “I thought I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

You chuckled, sipping your tea. “You sound like someone who’s about to give a farewell speech.” “Maybe I am.” You frowned. “Jun.”

He turned toward you, eyes reflecting the candlelight, gold and endless and unbearably sad. “You remember everything now, don’t you?” You blinked. “What do you mean?” “Us,” he whispered. “Before this life. Before this house. Before the accident.”

The words hit you like a chill. The images — faint, half-remembered — started to surface. The rain. Screeching tires. The ring glinting against the pavement. Jun’s voice calling your name, desperate, echoing. And then.. nothing.

Your throat tightened. “I- I saw flashes. I thought they were dreams.” He reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was lighter than before — fading. “They were memories. The last ones we shared before everything ended.”

You shook your head, tears already welling. “Ended? No.. we found each other again, didn’t we? You said you waited for me-” “I did,” Jun said, smiling. “Every life I remembered, I searched for you. Sometimes I found you. Sometimes I didn’t. But this time..” He paused, his voice breaking. “This time, you came back to me.”

“Then why- why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I am.” You froze. “No.”

He moved closer, cupping your face, thumbs tracing slow circles over your tears. His hands were almost see-through now — light bleeding through his fingers. “My curse was to remember every life,” he said softly. “To live them all until I learned to let go.”

“Jun, stop-”

“But yours,” he whispered, “was to forget. To live free of the pain. To start again.”

—

The moment the words left his lips, something in your chest cracked open — a white flash of pain, too bright to bear. And then..

White walls. The soft hum of machines. A dull ache at the back of your head. You blinked your eyes open and found yourself lying on a hospital bed. Your throat was dry, your body heavy. The faint rhythm of a heart monitor keeps time with your shallow breathing.

“Mingyu- she’s awake!” You turned your head weakly. Three faces came into focus — Mingyu, Seokmin, and Minghao — all hovering near your bed, eyes wide with relief. Mingyu reached out, holding your hand tightly as if grounding you.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice trembling. “You scared us.” You looked at them, confused. “What.. happened?” Seokmin’s smile faltered. “You got into an accident. You’ve been out for a few days.”

You nodded slowly, your mind foggy. But as you looked at their faces — familiar yet oddly distant — you felt something off. Something hollow. “Was anyone else with me?” you asked after a moment.

They froze. Minghao looked down at the floor, his jaw tight. “No,” he said finally. “You were alone when they found you.” You frowned, trying to recall anything — a road, a sound, a name. But your head throbbed the harder you tried. There was nothing. Just blank space.

Days passed, and you went home, that doesn’t even feel like home. You walked through your apartment, touching the furniture, tracing the edges of picture frames that held no faces. You caught your reflection in the mirror and felt the strangest ache, like someone else should’ve been there beside you. Someone who wasn’t.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you sat on your bed and whispered into the dark — not knowing why, or to whom. “Maybe it’s not about moving on,” you murmured, clutching your chest where that invisible ache lived, “but trying to remember the memories I’ve already lost.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you even realised you were crying. You didn’t know what you were grieving — only that your heart was mourning something you couldn’t recall.

—

You sobbed, shaking your head violently. “Then why- why bring me back here? Why make me remember?” “Because you deserved to know you were loved,” Jun said, voice trembling. “Even after death. Even after forgetting. You were my heart in every lifetime, and I needed you to know that before I go.”

The candle flame flickered. His form wavered, the edges of him breaking apart like smoke. “No,” you cried, clutching his shirt — your hands passing through him. “Please, stay. I’ll remember you this time. I swear, Jun, I won’t forget”

He smiled faintly, leaning forward until his forehead touched yours. “You will. You have to. That’s how you live.” He said. You sobbed. “Then what now? What happens to us? To you” “You live,” he said gently. “You finish your book. You keep the house. You keep going.”

“As for me.. I’ll keep waiting. Like I always do.” You shook your head violently. “No. No, you can’t. You deserve to move on.” “How can I?” Jun whispered. “My heaven was you. This is my fate.. I finally have the reason to cross the afterlife for this life, Y/N.” You felt the warmth of his breath one last time as he whispered,

“Find me again, in another life, my bride” The candle went out.

Silence filled the house — that heavy, sacred kind of silence only grief can make.

You sat there long after, whispering his name into the darkness, your tears falling onto the wooden floor. When the morning light finally touched the veranda, there was no trace of him — just the faint scent of cedar and rose and the ghost of a handprint on your cheek.

And for a moment, as you looked toward the mirror inside the house, you swore you saw him smiling.

Then he was gone.

And on the bed beside you, the veil stirred gently — as if brushed by unseen hands. unheard voice.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ and that’s a wrap!! thank you so much for reading — I hope you liked it!! we’ve still got a few more left on our 2025 kinktober prompt list, next up is jeonghan, then wonwoo. see you all soon! stay safe, healthy, and a little unhinged, loves mwaa

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar

if you’d like to be part of my permanent taglist, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask!! I’d love to include you ❤️

[ne6nguts]

I don’t know what to else other than OW?!28;82$: this is so painfully good 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕💕

[nightshao]

😭😭 thank you for reading!! i hope i didn’t hurt you that much hahahahaha

[chwedout]

🩷 my colour + my bias(es) tag game 🩷

take this quiz and find photos of your bias(es) that match your colour!

thank you plum @chimivx for tagging me!💖

tagging: @yeonbins, @bamgeut, @uservernon, @haologram, and @sn4psh00t (no pressure ofc!)

[sn4psh00t]

Oohh!! Thank you for tagging me!! 💕

I’m tagging: @gentleisa @starlightkyeom @haologram (yes ur getting tagged twice sorry) @pochaccoups @aeristudios and whoever wants to do it!! No pressure <3

[gentleisa]

AH! Josie I'm just now getting to this but thank you for tagging me <333

tagging: @hannieween @pomegranate-teardrop @livmarauder @onionhassayyo @nightshao as well as anyone else who would like to do this!

[nightshao]

well this is 2 months late.. hahahaha thank you so much for tagging me!! ❤️

and because my head hurts now.. i don’t want to think of anyone to tag 😭 feel free to reblog if you want!!

[mondemoon]

🧺 > JEONGHAN X READER FIC RECS

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back to you | @woncheolisms

w.c: 3.4k

Themes: dark romance, smut, mafia au, toxic relationship

it doesn't matter if you run away. jeonghan will find you, and he will bring you back.

Poison | @makeitworse

w.c: 16.7k

Themes: mystery, thriller, smut, college au

there's no quitting jeonghan once his love's in your veins, in spite of the blood he must spill to stay there.

my guardian demon sucks at his job | @shuaflix

w.c: 23,610

Themes: supernatural, fluff, romance, angst, smut, demon x mortal

just when you thought your luck couldn't get any worse, you accidentally manage to summon an ancient demon prince named jeonghan out of a scrap of paper from your statistics textbook. now, you're tasked with figuring out how to return your so-called "guardian demon" back to where he came from before he can stir up more trouble.

the odds | @dxnheng

w.c: 9.7k

Themes: romance, angst, action, best friends to lovers, fake dating

in which you and yoon jeonghan, the tributes from district four, must fake being madly in love in order to ensure your survival. only, it seems like the odds are never in your favour.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

More readings to come !ᯓᡣ𐭩

[nightshao]

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Wen Junhui x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ When you inherits an estate, you expects creaking floors and dust — not a ghost who swears you’re his wife. The house breathes with memories that aren’t yours, and every night, a soft voice whispers your name. Jun isn’t frightening; he’s heartbreakingly gentle, waiting for a love you've forgotten.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Angst, Ghost x Human, Dark Romance, Mention of Past Lives, Slow burn (I think??), Tragic Romance, Love beyond Death, “You forgot me but I never did” type of shit, Porn w/ Plot (and yes, YOU CAN SKIP the sex scene if not comfortable with the smut warnings)

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 12.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (both f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, neck grab, restraining hands, sensory description, necromancy, wax play, temperature play, soft dominance, implied somnophilia, body worship (jun be obsessed hahaha), dirty talk, ghost sex, dom! jun, sub! reader, crying from pleasure and pain, dacryphilia, loud moans (for both of them), possessiveness, creampie, clit stimulation

🎧 ➙ No sense by Justin Bieber ⋮ Fetish by Selena Gomez ⋮ Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ ahh I adore this story so much!! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m usually known for my angst works, so I guess this is my moment to shine hahaha. please don’t hesitate to click out or skip the explicit parts if they make you uncomfortable — this one gets a little intense with the kinktober themes 😭 anyways, reblogs (w/ or w/o tags) are always appreciated. love you lots!!

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The house was older than your name.

It stood past the last turn of the countryside road, half-swallowed by the forest, where even the birds refused to sing. The lawyer had given you the address over a call that sounded static, voice clipped, rushed — like he didn’t want to linger on the topic too long.

“An inheritance, Miss L/N,” he’d said. “A private estate. Been untouched for years. You’re the last living relative.” “Relative of who?” you’d asked. “Of the previous owner, Miss Wen.. if I remember correctly. Distant, very distant. She had no direct heirs. You might want to- ah -look through the documents yourself.”

The call ended before you could ask more.

Now, standing at the foot of the property, suitcase in hand, you realised how words could never have prepared you for this.

It was enormous, but not in the modern sense. The house was alive in its decay — a mansion of forgotten gold and black wood, wrapped in ivy that crawled like veins up the cracked stone. The windows glowed faintly amber, reflecting the dying sun. Even the wind that brushed against your skin felt heavy with something unsaid.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, pushing the rusted gates open. “Creepy, but not.. haunted. Hopefully.”

Your footsteps echoed across the gravel path leading up to the grand doors. Each step felt like trespassing on someone’s memory. When you finally pushed the door open, it didn’t screech or fight you like an old hinge should — it sighed, like the house itself was breathing you in.

The first thing that hit you was the smell — grass and rain, faint but fresh, like someone had opened a window minutes ago. The foyer stretched out before you, the chandelier above still glittering under years of dust. Paintings lined the walls. Not landscapes, not still lifes — just portraits. Of the same man.

You paused in front of one. He was handsome in a way that felt wrong for being immortalised in oil paint — sharp jaw, dark, tousled hair that falls around his neck in soft layers, eyes are gentle yet piercing. Scattered across his skin are small, striking moles — near his lips, another on his cheek, and gracing his forehead — as if even the universe couldn’t resist marking beauty where it found it.

Someone had painted him with devotion. You leaned closer. “Whoever you were,” you whispered, “you were definitely the favourite.”

The next few hours passed in quiet exploration. Every room was preserved — sheets draped over furniture, candles that looked half-burned but untouched by time, books still open mid-page on desks. It was eerie, yes, but also intimate. Like someone had just stepped out of the room and would return any minute.

By dusk, exhaustion caught up with you. You found the master bedroom on the second floor — and stopped cold. It was clean. No dust. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets turned down as though waiting. There was even a small vase by the window, a single white rose standing tall in it. You frowned.

“Someone’s been here,” you murmured. Then, louder, calling out just in case, “Hello? Is anyone-?” Silence. Except the faint hum of wind through the old vents. You hesitated, then sighed. “Guess I’ll just lock the door.”

The bed was too soft. Too inviting. You sat down anyway. The pillow smelled faintly of cedar and musk, a scent that didn’t belong to you. Still, the fatigue was pulling you under, and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

—

A breath brushed your neck. So real, so warm, it made every hair on your body stand on end. “You came back.” You bolted upright, eyes scanning the room. “Who’s there?” Nothing. Only the curtains swaying even though the windows were closed.

Your heart hammered as you reached for your phone flashlight. Its glow hit the mirror across the room — and froze you in place. In the reflection, someone stood behind you. A man, tall and pale, dressed in white collared shirt, neckline framing a single pearl necklace that adds a delicate contrast to his look.

Over it, he wears a black tweed jacket interwoven with silver threads, catching light in subtle glints. His expression wasn’t threatening. If anything, he looked relieved. He smiled softly. “You shouldn’t be afraid. I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned around. Empty. Your throat felt dry. “I’m-” You laughed weakly to yourself, trying to shake it off. “definitely calling the real estate agent tomorrow.”

You climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket tightly around your shoulders. But your body refused to relax. When your breathing finally steadied, you noticed something that made your pulse skip again. Your dress.

It had slipped halfway off your shoulder, your collarbone bare. And on your skin, faint as breath, was the outline of a handprint. You stared at it until your eyes blurred, until the scent of roses filled the air, until sleep pulled you back into the dark.

And somewhere, between waking and dreaming, you heard him whisper again — closer this time, almost tender “I’m glad you’re back, Wen Y/N.”

Morning came gently — too gently for an abandoned place. The light that poured through the curtains was soft and gold, catching the dust in the air like glitter. You sat up slowly, your body still wrapped in that hazy, half-remembered dream. There was no handprint now. No scent of smoke or roses. Just quiet.

“Okay,” you whispered, rubbing your eyes. “Maybe I just freaked myself out.” You checked your phone. Now we’re talking. I can definitely live here, there's a signal. It showed the time, 7:43 a.m. You must’ve slept like a rock.

After washing up with the little water that still ran in the bathroom sink, you wandered downstairs. The house looked different in daylight — less ominous, more tragically beautiful. Every surface was layered with dust except for a few areas: the stairs’ rail, the main hallway, the parlour table. Like someone had constantly wiped them.

You knelt beside one of the portraits in the living room and dusted it gently with your sleeve. The man’s painted gaze met yours again, unblinking and patient. His eyes were dark brown, almost gold under the varnish.

There were at least eight portraits in the entire house, all of him. Each painted a little differently: one in uniform, another in casual robes, another holding a book. You moved to the last one by the fireplace — this time, he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood beside him. The artist hadn’t captured her face clearly, but she wore a white dress and veil, hand resting delicately on the man’s arm. A wedding portrait. You tilted your head, curiosity pricking at you. “So.. you were married,” you murmured, brushing the edge of the frame. “And I’m guessing your wife didn’t inherit the place. Lucky me.”

You took a step back, hands on your hips. The house was huge, but not unmanageable. You could make it feel like home again. So you started cleaning.

At first, it was just idle — opening windows, letting air in, humming faintly under your breath. But then something strange happened. The longer you worked, the more you noticed subtle traces of order that weren’t yours: beds already made, a vase refilled with white roses, curtains tied back differently. Someone — or something — had been maintaining this house all along.

You shook your head, deciding to distract yourself before your imagination spiraled like last night. Grabbing your phone, you opened your messages to message your best friend.

Y/N: guess who inherited a horror movie set 😭

Hao 😈: LMAOOO don’t tell me it’s that creepy old mansion your mom mentioned??

Y/N: yeah. the one with zero neighbors and 800 ghosts per square meter

Hao 😈: pls send pics 😭😭

Y/N: hold up

You snapped a few photos: the cracked chandelier, the grand staircase, one of the portraits — you didn’t even realise until later that it was the wedding one.

Y/N: okay ngl it’s pretty. like victorian pretty. you should come here.

Hao 😈: looks like somewhere a hot ghost would haunt.

Y/N: stop! 😭😭

Hao 😈: no bc imagine waking up w/ a ghost husband like “good morning my bride” 💀

Y/N: STOP IT HAO I SWEAR I’LL MOVE OUT

Hao 😈: u say that but u also said ur into tragic romance when bored soooo 👀

You laughed out loud, the sound echoing across the empty hall.

Y/N: fine. if a ghost husband appears i’ll let u know so u can write my obituary.

Hao 😈: deal

You pocketed your phone, still smiling. The house felt a little less lonely now. By afternoon, sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, scattering coloured light on the floor. You carried an armful of old books back to the library and froze when you saw one already open on the table — one you knew you hadn’t touched.

Its pages were lined with elegant handwriting. You could barely read the faded ink, but you caught one phrase clearly underlined: “Bound beyond death, by name and vow.” A chill ran down your arms. You shut the book gently, heart thudding. “Okay.. enough cleaning for today.”

Outside, the wind had stopped entirely. The forest was silent. The only sound left in the house was your breathing — and somewhere, faintly, a low hum. Like someone singing through the walls.

The house was quiet that night. Too quiet.

You settled at the desk with your laptop, your only source of light a small lamp you’d brought from your old apartment. The rest of the room lay in shadows, the wallpaper peeling faintly in the corners as if the air itself had been holding its breath for years.

You cracked your knuckles, muttering, “Okay. Chapter sixty-three. Let’s do this.” The blinking cursor greeted you like an old friend.

Your book — To Breathe Again — had been a year in the making, and your editor had been hounding you for pages. The irony of working on a novel about necromancy wasn’t lost on you. You even laughed about it when you messaged Minghao earlier those years.

Y/N: if i start writing ghost love stories don’t pick me up, i’m doing the right thing

Hao 😈: u kinky mf

Y/N: shut up 😒

Hao 😈: ok but if u get possessed can u at least ask the ghost to edit my thesis

You shook your head, smiling to yourself before getting back to work. Hours passed unnoticed, the rhythm of typing filling the silence like a heartbeat. Sometimes you swore you could hear faint footsteps pacing the hallway — the kind that made the wooden floor groan softly, like memory itself stretching awake. Every time you paused to listen, the sound stopped.

Around 2 a.m., you leaned back in your chair and sighed. “One more paragraph,” you told yourself. But the words on the screen blurred together, and your head eventually dipped forward. You must’ve dozed off right there at the desk.

When you woke, it was morning again. The sun slanted through the tall windows, warm on your face. You blinked against the light, you woke up in the bed “ahm.. did I sleep walk here last night?” you mumbled, stretching your arms.

But your body felt sore in a way that didn’t make sense — like you’d been tossing in bed for hours, muscles overworked and trembling faintly. Your nightgown clung to your skin, a little too loose at the collar and ends almost reaching your hips.

You frowned, rubbing your eyes. It hurts. That’s when you noticed your laptop. The document you’d been writing was still open — but your last sentence had changed. Instead of “She pressed her hand against the cold stone altar..” the words now read:

She pressed her hand against the warmth of his chest and whispered, “I’m home.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t remember typing that. And yet.. the phrasing sounded exactly like something you would write. You closed the laptop slowly, the faint scent of something — cedar, musk, and roses — lingering in the air, as if someone had been beside you all night, breathing close enough to touch.

The smell of sizzling butter filled the kitchen, the sound of eggs hitting the pan soft and rhythmic. Sunlight pooled faintly through the old lace curtains, dust swirling in golden ribbons. You could almost pretend the house wasn’t haunted — that it was just another quiet morning.

Almost.

You rolled your shoulders, wincing. There was still a deep, dull ache running through your muscles, especially between your thighs. “Did I- sleep weird?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. You brushed off the thought with a nervous laugh and reached for the salt.

It must’ve been another one of those dreams. The kind that felt too real, too heavy. You remembered flashes — pale fingers tracing your skin, a whisper against your ear. The dream man’s touch had been so vivid that your body still remembered the heat. You’d seen his face this time too, clear and unblurred, framed by soft candlelight.

And it wasn’t just any face.

Your gaze drifted across the kitchen, toward the hallway where the portraits hung — the ones you’d noticed. You froze, spatula hovering midair.

The reflection in the hallway mirror caught him perfectly — the same slanted eyes, the same mouth curved like a secret. You blinked, once, twice, stepping closer to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks.

It was him.

The man from your dreams.

Your stomach dropped, pulse quickening in your throat. He’d been here all along, hanging silently in those frames, watching you from the moment you arrived.

You forced a shaky laugh, brushing stray hair from your face. “Okay. Creepy coincidence. It’s just- just the power of suggestion, right?” you told yourself, trying to sound convinced. “You saw the portrait before bed, your brain mashed it into a dream. Simple.”

The portrait didn’t answer. Behind you, the stove hissed. And for the briefest moment — just before you turned off the heat — you thought you heard a low voice whisper near your ear, soft and familiar “Good morning, my bride.”

You froze mid-breath.. again, every hair on your neck standing up. The voice was right there. Close enough that you could feel the faintest whisper of air brush past your ear. Your body reacted before your brain did.

“WHAT THE!” You spun around with the frying spatula raised like a weapon, egg still clinging to the edge. “WHO’S THERE?! I SWEAR I’LL- I’LL FLIP YOU TO HELL!!”

“Please don’t,” came a calm, almost amused voice from somewhere behind you. It wasn’t echoing, wasn’t hollow — it sounded real. Too real. “You’ll stain the walls with yolk, and I quite like our kitchen.”

Your eyes darting around the empty room. No one. Nothing. Just the faint sound of your pan still sizzling. Your heart hammered against your ribs. “Who- who said that?” Silence. Then, softly: “Jun.”

You blinked. “Jun..? What? Huh- ha?!” A small pause, then a low hum that almost sounded like a chuckle. “So you can hear me. That’s good.”

Your grip tightened on the spatula. “Okay. Either I’m losing it, or I’m being haunted by a polite ghost who cares about kitchen hygiene.” “Haunted?” Jun sounded genuinely offended. “That’s a rather cruel word for a husband, don’t you think?”

You gawked at the air. “Excuse me- husband?!” “Yes.” His tone softened, almost fond. “You’ve been wearing my ring.” You glanced down — and nearly dropped the spatula. On your left hand, glinting faintly in the sunlight, was a thin silver band. You had no idea when it got there.

“Oh hell no,” you whispered, yanking it off. “This is not happening.” Jun’s laugh was gentle, teasing. “You always say that. I miss hearing from you.”

“What- no, no, no! Don’t gaslight me, Casper!” “That’s not my name.” “I don’t care!” you shouted at the air. “You-! Get out of my house! Out! Whatever supernatural lease you think you have here, it’s over!”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” he said lightly. “This house is also mine.. and to you.” You dragged a hand down your face, spatula still clutched tight. “Great. Fantastic. I move into a cursed house, and my new roommate is a ghost husband with boundary issues.”

There was a low, almost bashful chuckle. “You weren’t complaining last night.” You froze, eyes wide. “Excuse me?” But the voice didn’t answer this time — just a faint, amused hum that faded into the creak of the old walls.

You pointed the spatula at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare ghost-laugh at me, Jun!” Somewhere, you swore you heard the faintest echo of a grin in his voice, that made you drop your spatula “You’re cute when you’re angry, my bride.”

—

You sat at the kitchen counter, laptop open, breakfast cold. The spatula still lay on the floor where you’d dropped it mid-crisis. Your phone buzzed beside your plate. You snatched it up like a lifeline.

[Group chat: “Emergency Life Updates (aka Therapy)]

Y/N: besties i think my house is haunted

Hao 😈: LMAOOOO it’s been 3 days, that’s a record. what happened suddenly??

Y/N: some man’s voice called me his wife while i was making eggs

Min 😵‍💫: ..was he hot at least???

Y/N: I DON’T KNOW I DIDN’T EVEN SEE HIM

Min 😵‍💫: so u married a ghost sight unseen 💀 bold of u

Y/N: IM NOT MARRIED

Hao 😈: sure kinky mf who’s writing a novel exactly with that plot, i think u manifested it loll

Y/N: also i think he’s a victorian ghost level polite. kept saying “my bride” like bro calm down

Min 😵‍💫: LMFAO STOPPPP this is going in my notes. “haunted by horny regency ghost”

Y/N: NO 😭😭

Hao 😈: did u check the portraits u sent me? maybe he’s one of those men 👀

Y/N: that’s the thing. IT’S HIM.

Hao 😈: oh.

Min 😵‍💫: …babe.

Hao 😈: are u sure ur not just having like, a super vivid lucid dream? u do write romance for a living.

Y/N: im literally wide awake and my ghost just argued with me about kitchen cleanliness

Hao 😈: sounds husband material to me. when’s the wedding??

Min 😵‍💫: more like when was the wedding LMAOOO

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why are my friends like this,” you muttered aloud. Why is Mingyu missing out of all times.. Seokmin and Minghao are no help. From somewhere down the hall, a familiar voice replied, low and teasing, “Are you in distress?”

You shrieked and nearly dropped your phone. “HAO HE’S HERE AGAIN.”

Hao 😈: ok listen before u start performing an exorcism, record it. i want receipts.

Y/N: u want me to RECORD THE DEMON?

Hao 😈: for science.

Y/N: i hate you.

You peeked over your shoulder, heart pounding. “Jun?” “I’m here,” came the smooth reply, closer now. “You don’t need to shout, my love.” You stiffened. “Don’t call me that!” “I can’t,” he said softly, like it was the saddest truth in the world. “You’re all I have left.”

The words hung in the air, so gentle it almost made you forget the absurdity of the moment. Almost. You typed one last message with shaky fingers.

Y/N: ok yeah maybe the ghost husband is kinda sad and not bad

Min 😵‍💫: so u admit he’s hot

Y/N: BLOCKED.

You set your phone down, exhaling deeply. “Okay.. Jun,” you muttered, scanning the empty room. “If we’re really doing this ghost tenant thing, why are you still here?” A quiet laugh brushed your ear like wind.

“Devotion. It ties me to the house.. to you.” You groaned. “Oh my god. He’s poetic too.”

It started the same way it had the last two nights. The soft creak of floorboards. The faint shift of weight on the mattress. The air cooling around you as if someone had opened a window. You didn’t move this time.

“Jun,” you whispered into the dark. “You’re here again, aren’t you?” Silence, then “I always am.” His voice came from beside you, smooth as velvet, threaded with something ancient. “You sleep so restlessly when I’m not.” “I sleep restlessly because there’s a ghost in my bed,” you muttered, sitting up halfway.

“Do you even.. sleep?” He chuckled, the sound low and fond. “No. Not anymore.” You exhaled through your nose, squinting into the faint light spilling through the curtains. “Okay, let’s try this again. Who are you, Jun?”

“I’ve told you,” he said gently. “I am your husband.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer. A name and a marital claim don’t explain why I wake up sore, by the way.” A pause. His voice softened, almost guilty. “I haven’t touched you without your consent.”

You arched a brow toward the darkness. “Really? Because my sore thighs say otherwise.” “I swear it.” His tone deepened, steady and earnest. “Your body aches from something else — the remnants of the bond. The house.. it remembers. And through it, so does your body.”

“The house remembers?” you repeated, half a scoff, half a laugh. “Jun, that’s not- that’s not even science. That’s..” “Magic,” he finished for you, quiet but unyielding.

You stared at the shadows for a long moment. “You expect me to believe that I’m some reincarnated bride living in a haunted love nest?” “I don’t expect you to believe,” he murmured. “Only to listen.”

Your throat tightened — something about the way he said it felt real. Too real. You tried to sound casual. “Then why are you here? Why can’t you just.. move on? Find peace, cross the afterlife, whatever ghosts are supposed to do.”

A silence. Then the faintest brush of a cold fingertip against your wrist — hesitant, reverent. “Because my peace was buried with you.” You froze. “You’ve got the wrong girl,” you whispered, voice trembling despite yourself.

“Perhaps,” Jun said softly. “But tell me, why do you wake up with my name on your lips?” You blinked, stunned. “I- I don’t.” “You do,” he said simply. There was no arrogance in it, only sorrow.

You fell quiet for a moment, staring at the darkness that felt far too alive. “You really didn’t do anything?” “No,” he said, and this time his voice was gentle enough to make you believe him. “Only kissed you when you were dreaming. You looked so lonely.”

Your heart squeezed. “That’s still technically not consent.” He laughed quietly, the sound curling through the air like smoke. “Then I’ll ask properly next time.”

You sighed, lying back down. “There’s not going to be a next time.” “I said that once too,” he murmured. You pulled the blanket over your face, trying to hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic for someone dead.”

“I was dramatic before I died,” he countered, teasing now. “You said you liked it.” You turned to where you thought he was, whispering, “You talk too much.” “And you listen too little.”

Somewhere between his chuckle and your quiet hum of annoyance, your eyes slipped closed. The bed dipped slightly, just enough for you to feel the outline of someone lying beside you. And though you told yourself you didn’t believe in ghosts, you still whispered, just before sleep took you,

“Goodnight, Jun.” A hand — cold but gentle — brushed your hair back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

—

You pushed the front door open with your shoulder, grocery bags cutting into your fingers, sunlight spilling in behind you.

“Jun!” you called out, voice echoing across the empty living room. “I was literally talking to you outside for ten minutes simply about if you do eat or not, and then I realised-” You paused dramatically, setting the bags down on the counter. “You weren’t even there!”

There was a soft hum from somewhere near the hallway — warm, amused. “Why are you talking to yourself outside?” Jun said. You glared toward the voice. “Don’t turn this on me. The delivery guy looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I thought you’re with me. This past few weeks, you never leave me alone”

He chuckled quietly, the sound wrapping around you. “Would you rather I scare other people half to death? Also, I can’t help you outside anyway”

You huffed, unpacking the paper bags. “Still. You could’ve… I don’t know. Come with me? You never go out.” There was a pause — not defensive, just words. “I can’t,” he said simply. Your hands stilled on a carton of milk. “Can’t?”

“The house is my boundary,” he explained. “My anchor. I’m bound here — by the curse, by memory, by you. Step beyond the threshold and I start to fade.” You turned toward the sound, heart softening. “That’s awful.”

“It’s tolerable,” he murmured. “I was alone here for so long before you came.” Your chest tightened. “Jun..” He spoke again, light but wistful. “Besides, I like it here. You fill the rooms with noise and scent and warmth. It’s almost enough to feel alive again.”

You rolled your eyes — to hide the sudden pang of emotion. “You sound like a bad poem.” “I was a bad poet once,” he teased. “You threw my drafts into the fire.” You froze mid-unpacking. “What?” He laughed, low and delighted. “Ah — perhaps that was another life.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.” “I missed being called that,” he said softly.

The quiet after that settled gently, like a comfortable silence between old friends, or husband and wife..? You busied yourself with arranging the vegetables, pretending you didn’t notice the way the air thickened slightly around you — Jun standing close, unseen but undeniably there.

“Hey,” you said after a moment. “If you can’t go out.. what do you do all day when I’m gone?” “I watch,” he said simply. “Creepy.” “Protectively,” he amended, amused. “I walk through the halls. Listen to the wind. Sometimes I read over your shoulder when you’re writing.”

You shot a look toward the dark corner of the kitchen. “That’s definitely creepy.” “Then perhaps,” he said, voice warm with laughter, “I’ll keep doing it.” You couldn’t help it — you laughed too, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Jun.”

“I was told I made an impossible husband,” he said, tone dipping into something soft, almost nostalgic. “But I like to think I’m improving.” You ignored the way your heart skipped. “Keep the flattery for someone you can actually touch.”

Another pause — this one quieter, heavier. Then: “I can touch you.. just to remind you,” he murmured.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. The light from the window dimmed as clouds rolled in outside, shadows crawling gently across the old wood floor. You pretended to focus on your groceries again, voice light but trembling slightly.

“Well,” you said, “if you’re going to touch me, at least help me unpack next time.” A faint rustle answered you — the bag of rice shifting slightly on its own, sliding closer to the cabinet.

You froze. Then laughed, a soft disbelieving sound. “Show-off.” From behind you hear his amused whisper, low and tender “Only for my wife.”

—

It was past midnight, the kind of hour where even the wind outside seemed half-asleep. The house was wrapped in silence, save for the soft rustle of paper as you turned another page of your book. The lamp beside your bed cast a warm circle of light that didn’t quite reach the corners of the room, where the dark always seemed to breathe.

You could feel him there. “Jun,” you said quietly, without looking up. “Are you here?” A pause — then that familiar voice, soft and close. “I’m always here.”

You smiled faintly, still reading. “That’s supposed to be comforting, right?” “I suppose that depends,” he murmured, “on whether you believe I’m haunting you or protecting you.”

You tilted your head toward the voice. “You keep saying you’re not haunting me, but it sure feels like it sometimes.” “Would a haunt make your tea every morning?” he teased gently.

“That was you?” You blinked. “I thought I was just.. sleepwalking.” “I can’t do much,” he said quietly, “but I can move little things when the night is kind to me.”

You shut the book slowly, the words blurring. “Why do you do it?” “Because you forget to take care of yourself when you write,” he said simply. “You get lost. I don’t want to see you vanish the way I did.”

Your breath caught. “The way you did?” He didn’t answer at first — only silence, deep and heavy, filled the room. Then, softly “I loved too fiercely. Enough to tether my soul here.” You looked toward the darkness, where you thought his voice had come from. “For her? Your wife?”

A faint laugh, like wind through old glass. “For you.” The room suddenly felt colder, your heart lurching against your ribs. “Jun, that’s-” “I know,” he interrupted gently. “It doesn’t make sense. Not to you. Not yet.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, eyes scanning the space though you knew you wouldn’t see him. “You sound like a tragic novel waiting to happen.” “Perhaps that’s why you were drawn here,” he said softly. “Writers always return to unfinished stories.”

You exhaled, half a sigh, half a shaky laugh. “You make everything sound like fate.” “Isn’t it?” His voice was closer now — you swore you felt the faintest brush of fingers along your hair, so gentle you might’ve imagined it.

“You should sleep,” he murmured. “The world outside can wait.” “Are you staying?” you asked, eyes drooping. “I never left.” You smiled faintly, a small surrender, before your eyelids fluttered closed.

Jun stayed — unseen but so achingly near, his presence hovering like a heartbeat in the dark. And when your breathing evened out, his whisper came, softer than a sigh “You once told me you’d find me again. I suppose you always keep your promises.”

The cafe was the kind that looked like a Pinterest board come to life — soft lighting, fern leaves drooping over every table, the faint hum of an espresso machine mixing with lo-fi music. You sat by the window with your laptop open, pretending to edit your manuscript while your three best friends interrogated you like you were on trial.

“So,” Hao started, sipping his iced latte dramatically, “how’s married life?” You choked on your drink. “What- excuse me?” Min snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You literally sent us a picture of another portrait and said, He’s kinda hot for a dead guy. Don’t tell me you’re not crushing on the house ghost.”

You pressed your fingers against your temple. “I was joking!” “Were you, though?” Gyu cut in, deadpan as ever. “You also texted last night that someone made you tea again. Either you have a kind spirit or a trespasser with excellent domestic skills.”

Seokmin gasped theatrically. “Or maybe both!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s a ghost.” “Then why are you blushing?” Minghao leaned forward with a grin. “Look at her, Seok- she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” you hissed, but your cheeks burned hotter than the cappuccino in front of you. “He’s just..” You stopped, realising how ridiculous it would sound to admit that Jun talked to you every night. That he teased you, cared for you, comforted you in ways that humans can’t even do.

Mingyu leaned back, stirring his coffee lazily. “You’re acting like you’ve got a boyfriend who only comes out after dark.” You glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Seokmin propped his chin on his hands. “Not yet.”

Hao laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “God, this is gonna be one of her novels, isn’t it? Lonely writer moves into a haunted house, ghost falls in love with her, she says it’s a curse, but he says it’s destiny-”

“Stop quoting my life!” you interrupted, waving your spoon like a weapon. “You guys are the worst.” “We’re the realists,” Min said, still smirking. “You just happen to be living inside your own plot twist.”

For a moment, they all laughed, that kind of carefree, echoing laugh that only happens in midday cafes. You joined in too, trying to drown out the strange warmth you felt under your ribs.

Your laughter stuttered, your eyes darting toward the window. The glass reflected only you and your friends — no one else. You sometimes think every time you’re outside, is he bored at home? Is he okay? That quiet presence. A part of you just wants to stay at home.

“See?” Min teased, nudging you. “She’s spacing out. Probably thinking about her ghost husband.” You forced a laugh, looking back at him, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something like that.”

The cafe hummed with lazy afternoon chatter. You sat across from Minghao, Seokmin, and Mingyu, who somehow turned what was supposed to be a casual catch-up into a full-blown roast session.

“You’re into ghosts now, huh? So that’s why you’re not dating anyone alive?” Hao said, chuckling. You jabbed a straw at him. “Minghao, I swear to God-” Gyu raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name again?” You hesitated. The word caught on your tongue. “Jun.”

All three of them stared for a beat before Min smirked. “Jun? You even named him?” “I didn’t name him!” you said quickly. “That’s what he-” You froze. “That’s what his real wife, maybe, called him.”

“Right.” Mingyu nodded, clearly unconvinced. “So this ghost talks to you, cooks for you, and sleeps beside you-” “He doesn’t sleep beside me!” you blurted, heat rising to your cheeks. “He just- he-” “Uh-huh.” Seokmin grinned. “You’re doomed, man. She’s in deep.”

You tried to laugh it off, but your pulse was unsteady. Because later, when you were back home and the house greeted you with that quiet stillness, the laughter from earlier still echoed faintly in your head — you called Jun, yet no one was responding.

You frowned. He always answered when you came home. Even just a faint, teasing whisper — You’re late, little human. But tonight, nothing. Just the quiet hum of air through the vents and the faint ticking of the antique clock in the foyer.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, forcing a laugh. “So we’re doing the ghost-silent-treatment thing now? Cute.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, slamming a cabinet or two a little louder than necessary. Still nothing. The quiet felt heavier now — not the peaceful kind, but the kind that watches you.

“Jun.” You called again, voice sharper. “If you’re mad at me for something, at least say it. Don’t just.. vanish.” The air stirred faintly behind you, like a breath on your neck. You turned, but the space was empty. A shiver ran down your arms.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re sulking because I went out with my friends.” You rolled your eyes, more to convince yourself than anything. “You’re not seriously mad, right?” Still nothing. You exhaled. “Fine. Silent treatment it is. You win. I’ll just talk to myself then.”

You started rambling, pacing the living room like a stand-up comic trying to fill dead air. “For the record, they’re friends. Normal, breathing, alive friends who buy me coffee and don’t haunt my house.”

The chandelier above flickered faintly. You stopped. “Did I strike a nerve there?” A faint hum of energy prickled across your skin — the sign that he was listening, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You sighed, softer now. “You know, it’s kind of unfair. You disappear when I talk to other people, but then you act like I’m supposed to just stay here waiting for you to materialise out of thin air.” The silence stretched.

You pressed your lips together. “I’m not yours, Jun.”

That’s when you heard it — not a loud voice, but something that slid into your mind like a thought that wasn’t yours. “Aren’t you?” You froze. The temperature dropped suddenly, enough for your breath to fog in front of you.

“You wear my ring,” his voice murmured now, closer, though he still wasn’t visible. “You live in my house. You sleep in my bed. You call my name every night without realising it.”

You spun toward the sound. “You didn’t answer when I came home. You scared me.” “I know.” The reply was soft, low, guilty — but underneath it, something darker stirred. “You talked about me with them,” Jun continued, voice drifting between the walls, nearer and nearer. “You laughed. You blushed. Did you enjoy that?”

“Jun,” you warned, heart pounding, “how did you even-? Don’t do this.” He let out a breath of what almost sounded like a laugh. “You think I don’t feel it? Every time someone says your name, every time you smile at someone else, it burns.”

Your pulse quickened, a strange mix of fear and warmth tightening in your chest. “You’re not even alive, Jun. What are you implying?” “Maybe not,” he whispered. “But you still make me feel it.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the faint outline of his form starting to shimmer near the hallway mirror — not solid yet, just smoke and memory. “Then don’t disappear like that again,” you said quietly. “If you can feel something, then talk to me. Don’t just.. leave.”

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the faintest smile crossed his half-formed face. “You missed me.” You scoffed. “You were sulking.” “I was angry,” he corrected. “Because for a moment, I thought maybe you preferred your men.” You looked at the mirror — at his faint, sorrowful expression behind your reflection.

“They're not my men.. they’re my friends. You’re impossible,” you whispered. “And you,” Jun said softly, “are the only thing I’ve wanted in centuries.”

The room stilled. The air grew warmer. You felt the ghost of fingers trace the outline of your wrist — not cold, but not quite warm either. Just real enough to make you tremble.

Jun's reflection leaned closer, his gaze locked on your lips. His hands moved from your wrist to either side of your head, trapping you gently between his ghostly palms. “Say you're mine,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t answer. He held your hands and pulled you near the mirror, “Do you need to see me, for you to talk?” he said, a little annoyed, you’re not sure whether to you or to himself. You looked directly at the mirror, memorising his ethereal face.

His hands framed your face, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he stared into your eyes, making you look at his direction directly, nothing, you can see nothing. But you could feel his presence, his breath ghosting over your neck. “I'm not in the mirror, my wife” he murmured, voice coming from both directions. “I'm here.”

The ghostly hands slid from your cheeks to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He leaned in closer, his translucent lips hovering just above yours. “Let me kiss you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Please.”

You smiled.. “only because you asked this time.” Jun's reflection smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He loved when you teased him, even a little. It meant you weren't scared of him. “Only because I asked?” He repeated softly, his voice ghosting over your lips. “You admitted before that you did without my consent.”

His expression turned serious, one hand moving to gently grasp your chin, turning your face slightly as if preparing to kiss you but stopping himself. “I’m sorry. That was my mistake.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “This time.. will be different.”

He stared at you intently, his hands steady and gentle. “I'll ask for permission every time. I'll wait for your agreement. And if you say no, I'll stop.” His voice was quiet, sincere. His eyes searched yours, looking for understanding.

You parted your lips slightly to answer. “Then go on.” That was all Jun needed. He surged forward, capturing your mouth softly at first. He tested your response — one hand cupped your cheek possessively while the other slid around your waist. You hummed softly, making him deeper. Now this is weird but also kinda hot.. I’m kissing the air.

Jun’s kiss grew more insistent, his tongue gently probing your mouth. He tasted sweet, like a phantom memory of honey and mint. His hands roamed from your waist downwards until they gripped onto your hips firmly pulling you closer towards him. You can feel him.

You gasped against his mouth as he pulled you closer, his cold hands gripping your hips tightly. Jun took advantage of your open mouth, deepening the kiss even further by pushing his tongue inside. He tangled it with yours, exploring your mouth thoroughly as if he was trying to memorise the taste of you. “Fucking hell, you taste like heaven.”

“For someone who’s dead, you curse so strongly.” You said laughing in between the kisses. In the mirror, you can see him smirking against your lips, his voice husky and amused. “Even ghosts can curse when they’re kissing someone they’ve been longing for.” His hands slid down to your thighs lifting them slightly as if trying to pull them around his waist.

You giggled, the sound muffled against his mouth. Jun groaned, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He pulled harder, attempting to wrap your legs around his unseen waist. The mirror grew warmer, fogging up completely as their kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

“Jun.. my imaginations may be wild, yet I can’t do this to someone I can only see in the mirror”

Jun’s smirk faltered. For a second, his reflection looked as though it was flickering — as if even his smile could no longer hold shape. Then he stepped back, his eyes dark and distant. “You can’t see me because you’re not supposed to.”

Before you could ask what that meant, his hand — cold but firm — grasped your wrist. The mirror rippled like water as he pulled you through the hallway. You stumbled after him, feet barely touching the ground, until you reached a door you had never opened before. It was the last one at the end of the corridor at the third floor — carved oak, locked since the day you moved in.

“Jun, wait-” But the door creaked open on its own, revealing a dimly lit room heavy with the scent of old wood and faded perfume. Dust particles drifted lazily in the air, but beneath the decay, everything was preserved. A canopy bed stood at the center, its sheets neat, untouched. A wedding veil lay folded at the pillow’s edge.

“This room” you whispered. “I never-” “Because you weren’t meant to remember it.”

Jun’s voice was quieter now, stripped of playfulness, stripped of warmth. He stood by the window, you can’t even see his figure under the pale afternoon light. You could see the garden though — but you know his eyes were solid, endless, tired.

“You walk through this house like a stranger because you are one. But once, you weren’t.” Your chest tightened. “What are you saying?” He looked at you, a faint tremor in his hands. “You can’t see me because you can’t even remember who I am.”

The words felt like a knife — sharp, but dull in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I just moved here. I just-” Jun shook his head. “No. You came back.” He stepped closer. His voice softened, trembling with a kind of desperation you’d never heard from him before.

“You promised me you would, before you died.” Your breath caught. “Died?” “Before you died,” he said again, slower this time, as if tasting every syllable. “You said you would find me. You said, ‘Wait for me. Even if it takes lifetimes, I’ll come back.’”

You blinked rapidly, a faint ringing in your ears. Your mind refused to accept it — but your body remembered something. A pulse in your fingertips. A flash of a wedding ring. A man’s laughter. A voice saying My Jun.

He continued, eyes glimmering like glass. “I remembered everything. That’s my curse. I have lived every life remembering you — who you were, how you died, how you looked at me the day we said our vows. Every damn lifetime.”

The room felt like it was spinning. You staggered back a step and looked around the room, dizzy. That’s where you realise, this room is the real master bedroom, with another portrait.. where Jun and the same woman from downstairs. The difference is that you could see her face clearly now.

A face that is very familiar to you. A face that you see everyday. It’s your face. It’s you. “No.. Jun, that can’t be real. That’s-” “You’ve always said that,” he whispered. “Every life. Every time we meet, you never remember at first. But I always do. And every time, I find you.”

You shook your head, heart pounding painfully. “Then why am I here? Why this house?” “Because it’s where we lived,” Jun said simply. “Where I built a home for you. And where I died waiting when you didn’t come back.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked around the room, his gaze softening with memory. “They called it devotion. I called it punishment. I’ve been bound here, in this house, between life and death, waiting for you. Every creak of the floorboards, every breeze through the window — it’s been you I’ve been calling.”

You sank onto the edge of the bed, the veil beside you brushing against your hands. “Then.. I died?” Jun nodded slowly. “You did. In this life, you lost control of your car the day before our wedding anniversary. You were coming here.” He knelt before you, his touch barely grazing your knee, but warm now, almost human.

“You survived,” he whispered. “But you lost your memory. You forgot me.” Tears burned your eyes before you even realised you were crying. “So that’s why I can’t see you. Because part of me still refuses to remember.”

Jun smiled sadly, brushing your tears away with fingers that faded halfway through the motion. “You can’t see me because you don’t believe in me anymore. And without your belief, I’m barely here.”

You tried reaching out to touch him, his hands guiding your hands to his face — his cheek, his hair, anything solid — but your hand passed through his face like mist.

Until it didn’t.

Warmth bloomed under your touch. Solid. Living. Real. You gasped softly, feeling your heartbeat stumble as Jun’s features sharpened in front of you — the faint curve of his smile, the mole beneath his eye, the soft slope of his nose. He was no longer just a shimmer in the mirror; he was right there.

He was beautiful. And familiar. He’s divine.

The air pulsed once and then everything tilted. The floor beneath your feet dissolved, colours shifting, walls melting into light. You blinked and suddenly, the world changed.

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of white sakura trees, their petals falling like snow. You stood under an arch woven with lilies and pearls, your hands trembling as Jun slid a ring onto your finger.

“Do you promise to haunt me even if I die first?” you teased, your voice catching from laughter and tears. Jun’s lips curved into that same half-smile you’d later dream about. “I’d rather haunt the world than live in it without you.”

You threw your head back, laughing softly, pressing your forehead to his. “That sounds like a curse.”He smiled against your lips. “Then I’ll gladly be cursed.”

—

You stood in front of the house you live in now — only brighter, newer. Boxes piled high on the porch, sunlight filtering through the vines climbing the walls. Jun appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Our forever home,” he said, kissing your temple.

“It’s old,” you murmured. “And it creaks.” “So do we, sometimes.” You laughed, swatting at him. “That’s not romantic.”

He leaned closer, whispering, “Then let me try again.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Our love will creak too, old, stubborn, and impossible to let go.”

—

The sound of clinking porcelain. You sat at the wooden kitchen table, hair still messy from sleep, while Jun poured you tea with that same careful grace he did everything with.

He kissed the back of your hand. “You always forget breakfast when you write.” “And you always act like I’ll starve in two hours,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Because you will,” he replied, sliding the cup toward you. “My wife, the novelist who forgets she has a body.” You smiled, reaching out to tug him closer by the tie. “You talk too much hubby.”

He chuckled. “I love you” you smiled “I love you more”

—

The clock struck midnight, the house silent except for the faint hum of the record player. You were in your pajamas, barefoot on the hardwood floor. Jun appeared behind you, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me,” he said simply. “There’s no music.” “There’s us.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his. He spun you once, your laughter echoing in the dim light. The two of you swayed lazily, the world shrinking to the warmth of his hands on your waist and the sound of your quiet breaths syncing together.

—

Thunder boomed outside, rain drumming against the windows. You were both huddled in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a single blanket. “Tell me something true,” you murmured, tracing his palm with your finger.

Jun’s gaze softened. “When I first saw you, I thought I had seen you before. Like in a dream that I’d already lived.” “And did you?” you asked.

His silence was long, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Maybe I’ll tell you in another life.” You frowned. “That’s unfair.” “Then stay with me in this one,” he whispered, voice low, almost pleading.

Both of you laughed, as the warmth between you two became one, cuddling at the stormy weather at the bed.

—

“Jun, stop reading over my shoulder!” you groaned, swatting him lightly with your pen. “I can’t help it,” he said, grinning. “Your characters sound like us.” “They do not.”

“They do. ‘The stubborn man who won’t take no for an answer,’” he quoted dramatically, pointing to the page. “That’s clearly me.” You threw a crumpled paper at him. “Then I’ll kill your character next.”

“Then I’ll haunt you,” he teased, eyes glimmering. You rolled your eyes. “Then I’ll marry you out of guilt.” “Perfect. My plan worked.”

—

Sunlight peeked through sheer curtains, painting soft stripes across the bed. Jun’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his chest rising and falling behind you.

“Jun,” you murmured sleepily. “You’re heavy.” He chuckled, half-asleep. “You used to like it.” “I changed my mind.” He buried his face into your hair. “Too late. You married me.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. “You’re impossible.” He kissed your shoulder. “So are you. That’s why it works.”

—

The dining room was dim except for candles you hastily lit on a lopsided cake. Jun entered the room and froze, eyes widening as you yelled, “Happy birthday!” “I told you not to-”

“You think I listen to you?” you said, grinning. “Make a wish before I eat it all.” He stared at you for a moment before blowing the candles out. “I already did.”

You blinked. “What’d you wish for?” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “To live long enough to grow old with you.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s so cheesy.”

But he smiled softly. “Cheesy things are true things.”

—

The smell of oil paint filled the room. You sat by the window, sunlight catching in your hair while Jun worked on a portrait of you. “You’re taking forever,” you complained, swinging your legs.

He looked up from the canvas, smirking. “You move too much.” “I’m bored.” “Then talk to me.” You tilted your head. “What should I say?”

“Say something I can remember,” he said. You smiled. “I love you.” He paused, brush mid-air. “That’ll do.”

The memories collided with reality, your breath ragged as you stumbled back. The house, the mirror, the kitchen — everything shimmered and settled again into the dim golden light of dusk.

You were crying. Not from fear, but from the weight of recognition. “Jun,” you whispered, your hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I remember everything.”

Jun smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. His thumb brushed the corner of your lips like he’d done a thousand times before. “You came back to me.”

Your lips trembled. “And you waited.” He nodded once, a soft, broken laugh escaping him. “Every lifetime.”

His smile turned into a hungry kiss as he pressed you against the old bed where you shared countless moments together you’ve forgotten. His hands roamed over familiar curves remembered through centuries of waiting — for this exact moment where memory returned fully between two souls meant to be entwined forever.

His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed along your jawline. Suddenly, he pressed a cold finger to your neck, activating a necromantic chill that made you gasp and arch into him. “Do you remember my touch?” He whispered huskily

A wicked smile spread across his face as he remembered your kinks. He reached over to the bedside table and lit a candle, the flame flickering to life in the dim room. He started playing with temperatures, his breath, his touch being entirely cold, and the candle.. the wax. He dribbled hot wax onto your collarbone, watching as you gasped and your eyes fluttered closed. He knew exactly what you liked.

He kissed down your neck, his mouth alternately hot and cold like fire and ice. “Wife.. you taste so good.” His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone with wax on it as he slowly unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more skin for him to worship.

One hand continued the slow torture of dripping hot wax onto your skin while the other hand slipped under your bra, teasing your nipple with cold fingertips. “Cold or hot first?” He didn't wait for an answer, switching between hot wax poured onto your chest and his ice-cold hands caressing your skin.

This leaves you shivering and gasping beneath his touch. He unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere as he continued his assault on your senses, his mouth claiming one hardening nipple while his fingers played with the other.

Junhui worshipped your body like he’d been starved for centuries — because he had been. His mouth trailed down to your stomach, kissing and licking each inch of skin he uncovered. He unbuttoned your pants slowly, almost reverently, pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.

He spread your legs gently, his cold hands contrasting with the heat of your core. He leaned down, blowing a cool breath over your clit before he spoke. “I remember everything about you. Every moan, every gasp, every shiver.”

“And I remember how you used to drive me crazy with that mouth of yours.” You spread your legs wider, teasing him deliberately. Jun groaned, pressing a freezing cold kiss directly onto your clit. “Stop teasing me with your knowledge of my body,”

His cold tongue replaced his lips, licking a slow path up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. He used his fingers to spread you open further, his ice-cold digits pushing inside you suddenly. You gasped and bucked against him. “Uhmm-hmm jun..” “You used to call me hubby.” He murmured.

“My hubby,” He growled against your sensitive folds, his fingers curling inside you while his tongue worked overtime on your clit. He remembered every spot that made you moan hubby. His other hand snaked up to pinch one of your nipples hard, making you arch into him.

“You used to grab my hair and fuck my face when I do this..” He demonstrated by sucking hard on your clit while pushing three cold fingers deep inside you, curling them exactly how you used to love. “Ugh! Fuck-”

You instantly wrapped your legs around his head, gripping his hair tightly and riding his face as you moaned his name like a prayer. Jun moaned loudly, his fingers freezing cold inside you as he remembered how much he loved being used by you.

“God, you always ride my face hard when I touch you like this.” He added another finger, spreading them wide inside you, hitting your favourite spot. He blew cold air onto your clit again, watching your body tightly coil with remembered pleasure.

“Stop reminiscing,” You pushed his head away sharply. He laughed softly, his mouth wet with your arousal. “No more remembering how you used to bounce on my face?” He teased, trying to pull your hips back down onto his mouth. You smacked his head lightly, “Asshole.”

He caught your hips sharply, pulling you back. He spread your legs wide, feasting on you like a starving man. His fingers still inside you, curving them perfectly as he ate you loudly, slurping and sucking your clit like it was his last meal.

Your body tightened like a bowstring as he remembered exactly how you liked it. Within minutes, you were crying out, your legs shaking as you came hard against his mouth. “Junhui- God! Aghh Oh my- fuck!”

He kept eating you through your orgasm, his cold fingers never stopping their relentless attack on that sweet spot inside you. He loved how you tasted, how you moaned his name like a dirty prayer. When your legs finally stopped shaking, he pulled away slowly, licking his lips.

He sat up, his face glistening with your juices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “You taste even better than I remembered,” he said huskily. He spread his legs slightly, palming his hard, cold erection through his pants.

“My turn, hubby.”

You smirked and slowly removed his jacket and white collared shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs. He lifted his hips so you could pull down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. His massive, erect dick sprang free, slapping against his stomach with a wet smack.

His hands came up to grip your hair as you looked down at his length. He was already cold and hard, leaking pre-cum. “Take it in your mouth,” he ordered roughly, his Chinese accent thickening with desire. His hand tightened in your hair possessively. “Open Wen Y/N”

You spread your lips slowly, taking the tip of him into your hot mouth. He hissed sharply, his hips bucking slightly. “Damn it,” He muttered softly, watching your wet mouth stretch around him. “You used to deep throat like a pro.” He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you slightly.

His eyes rolled back as you suddenly took him deep into your throat without warning, your nose pressing against his balls. He let out a choked groan — “Fucking hell..” His hands tangled in your hair desperately as you started bobbing up and down rapidly, sucking hard “Shit.. shit- shit, you’re even better now!”

His cold dick throbbed in your mouth as you kept deepthroating him, your tongue pressing against the sensitive vein underneath. He could barely speak, his voice coming out strained “Fuck...fuck..fuck! Goddam- Ughh”

With a loud, muffled groan, he came down your throat, his hips jerking uncontrollably. You swallowed every drop before pulling off with a wet pop. He fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. “Still so noisy” You commented dryly, crawling up his body.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent. “Sure sure..” He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse. “You’re the loud one. Always screaming my name.” He started kissing and sucking on your neck possessively. “My hubby.. still so good for me.”

He rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his. I can’t even see the ceiling. His cold hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. His dark brown eyes bore into yours intensely. “Turns out, my wife gives even better head now. I wonder how else she’s improved.”

One hand slid under your thigh. “Spread for me, Y/N. Let me check if that tight hole still belongs to me only.” His voice was low and commanding.

He pushed your legs apart roughly, his cold dick already hardening again. I’m fucking a ghost. He’s so cold. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head against your sensitive spot. “You know what I love about this position?” He asked, his voice husky.

“What?” You barely said, “It lets me go deep,” He answered darkly, pushing your thighs back sharply and slamming inside you hard. He hit the bottom instantly, making you cry out loudly. “See?” He pulled back and thrust hard again, making you bounce on the bed. “Noisy.”

He started pounding into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your loud moans and cries. One hand remained on your wrist above your head holding it back while the other on your thighs “Fuck-” He groaned, “Too loud, my wife”

His thrusts became deeper and harder, hitting that spot inside you perfectly. Your loud moans turned into high-pitched screams as he fucked you brutally. “Shut up...shut up”

He slapped a hand over your mouth as you screamed during another deep thrust. “AHHH-” “Jesus,” He muttered against your neck, “You sound like a fucking porn star.” He bit down on your shoulder to muffle his own groan, still fucking you mercilessly.

Your world turned into a blur of cold hands gripping your body painfully, eyes glinting menacingly above you, and a ghostly cock pounding into you. You could feel every inch of him stretching you open, hitting depths you never knew existed. “Mmph..”

You felt possessed, fucked by a literal ghost who showed no mercy. His cold body slammed against yours relentlessly, making the headboard bang against the wall loudly. Your screams were echoing, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Tears streamed down your face from the intense pleasure-pain as he hit your cervix with every thrust. Your nails scrambled against his back, leaving red marks on his pale skin. You felt like you were being claimed by a supernatural being, completely at his mercy. “Nghh!”

Your tears only seemed to fuel his hunger for you. He watched, mesmerised, as they spilled down your cheeks and dripped onto the pillow. “Adorable,” He groaned, his voice laced with dark desire. “My pretty wife crying while I fuck you stupid.”

Mid-thrust, an abrupt memory flashed through his mind — the candle he had lit earlier, still burning softly nearby. A wicked smirk crossed his ghostly face as an idea struck him. “Hold that thought..” He suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and whimpering. “Don't move.”

He quickly reached the candle, dipping his cold fingers into the melted wax. The room fell silent except for your laboured breathing and soft sniffles. “I forgot you’re a ghost, and how you can’t feel pain.” He chuckled then looming over you with a sinister grin and wax-covered fingers. “Spread wider,” He ordered darkly. “Let's play a little game.”

Without warning, he pressed the warm wax against your sensitive entrance, pushing it inside you slowly. You gasped at the foreign feeling, your hole stretching to accommodate the wax. He added more, filling you up with the warm substance before snapping his fingers. “Cold now.” The wax instantly hardened inside you,

Leaving you with a feeling of extreme fullness and pressure. He pushed your legs back even further, until your knees were practically touching your ears. “Now, let's see how long this pretty little human can hold still while I fuck her with a frozen, wax-filled hole.”

He lined up his cock again, pushing the head against your entrance. He groaned as he slowly slid in, the hardened wax making you even tighter than before. “Goddamn,” He grunted, “You feel insane right now.”

With a sharp thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you. The sudden intrusion forced a loud, strangled moan from your throat. “Ahh..! F-fuck..!” You bucked your hips instinctively, only for the wax to shift inside you uncomfortably. “N-no...ahh- st-still..”

He wrapped a hand around your throat to hold you down as he started thrusting his hips slowly, each thrust causing the wax to grind against your prostate pleasurably. Your moans turned into broken whimpers as he fucked you with that unrelenting fullness. “Shh, my wife.. just take it”

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours with wet smacks. The wax inside you began to melt slightly from the friction, creating a warm, sticky sensation that had you moaning uncontrollably. “Ahh..ahh...ahhh!”

Your loud, desperate moans sent him over the edge. He slammed into you one last time, hitting your prostate dead on as he came hard inside you. “FUCK!” He groaned loudly, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot cum. “HUBBY!” You screamed as you cream his cock as well inside.

He stayed buried inside you, his heavy breathing gradually slowing as he nuzzled against your neck. The melted wax and his release dripped out of you messily, coating your inner thighs. After a moment, he pulled out slowly, watching as more fluid followed. “Mmm”

You looked down at the mess between your legs, then back up at him with confused eyes. “How.. how are you cumming? You're a ghost” He smirked mischievously, “Ghost sex has its perks, wife. My spirit can still produce semen.”

“And trust me, it feels just as good as real cum would.” He chuckled softly, floating down to clean himself up with some tissues he got at the night stand. “Plus, being dead means I can fuck you for hours without getting tired.”

Your eyes widen, completely not understanding what happened just now, “can I get pregnant..? BY A GHOST?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then shook his head with a soft laugh. “No, Y/N. You can’t get pregnant from ghost sex.” He explained, “My spirit might produce semen, but it lacks the necessary components to impregnate anyone.”

“Oh ok,” you sighed, relieved. His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as he went back up to top you, hovering between your legs. “So basically, I can fill you up as much as I want, and there’s zero risk of an actual baby.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and the night was long.

The morning light slipped through the old lace curtains, pooling soft gold across the floorboards. The air was warmer than usual — almost gentle, like the house itself didn’t want to disturb you. You stirred under the sheets, your body still aching in ways you couldn’t explain, every muscle sore but tingling with something that felt like longing.

This bed feels more like me, than the other bed. I love to be back.

Jun sat beside the bed, his elbow resting on the headboard, chin on his hand, smiling softly. “You’re awake,” he murmured. His voice was as calm as ever, but there was something different in his gaze — something steady, quiet, almost resigned.

You groaned, trying to sit up. “Remind me to never let a ghost manhandle me again.” He laughed — that deep, melodic laugh that used to echo down the hallways when the house was still alive. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you tried to swing your legs off the bed, “that was before I realized ghosts apparently have stamina.”

Jun leaned forward, catching your wrist before you could stand. “Careful,” he said softly. “Don’t move too fast. You’re still sore.” You rolled your eyes. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” he teased, standing and offering his hand anyway. “But let me handle you for once.” You took his hand without thinking — it felt solid now, warm even. The thought almost made your chest ache. “Since when did you get so smug?”

He smiled faintly, leading you toward the kitchen. “Since I got my wife back.” You froze mid-step, and for a moment, your breath caught. He said it so casually, like it was the most ordinary truth in the world. But something in his tone — that faint tremor beneath the calm — made your heart twist.

“Jun..” He only smiled again, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Breakfast first. Heavy hearts need coffee.”

He made pancakes. You didn’t even think ghosts could cook, but the smell of butter and sugar filled the air, and when you asked how he did it, Jun just shrugged. “You said you missed the scent of home,” he said, flipping one perfectly golden. “So I borrowed it from your memory.” You laughed. “That’s creepy and romantic. I can’t decide which.” “Can’t it be both?”

The rest of the day passed in a strange sort of domestic bliss. You both cleaned the bedroom — or at least, you did, and Jun hovered around you, pretending to help but mostly teasing you. He brushed wax off your cheek, steadying you every time you leaned too close.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked suddenly, when you caught him watching the sunlight through the window. He turned to you, smiling faintly. “Miss what?” “Being alive.” For a heartbeat, his smile faltered. Then he said quietly, “Not anymore. Everything I ever wanted.. is standing right here.”

You stared at him — the soft glow in his eyes, the way his voice trembled like he was holding back something heavy. You didn’t press. Instead, you reached out and brushed his hand — and this time, it felt entirely real.

Jun blinked, then smiled again, softer this time. “See? You’re getting stronger.” You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead — his lips almost warm now. “It means you’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Even when I’m not here to make pancakes for you.”

You looked up sharply. “What are you talking about-” “Nothing,” he interrupted, smiling again — that same too-gentle, too-final smile. “Just saying.. ghosts like me don’t get forever. So promise me, if I ever fade away” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “…don’t stop living.”

You didn’t know why, but the air grew heavier around you. The sunlight dimmed. You forced a laugh. “You’re being dramatic again.”

Jun chuckled softly, though his eyes were glistening in the light. “Maybe. But if being dramatic lets me stay in your memory, then I’ll take it.”

You stared at him for a long time, the ache in your chest tightening, and for a fleeting moment, you swore you could see through him — just a shimmer, like heat rising from pavement. But you blinked, and he was solid again. Smiling. Alive in his own way.

And so, you smiled back. “You’ll have to work harder than that to get rid of me.” He leaned in and kissed your lips. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

—

The night came gentle, like the world itself didn’t want to wake you. You sat on the veranda with Jun, a single candle flickering between you — its flame bending and swaying with the wind. The garden was quiet, the air thick with that faint sweetness of rose and memory.

Jun leaned back in his chair, watching you instead of the stars. You didn’t notice at first how still he’d become. “I used to dream of this,” he said softly. “Of what?” “Peace.” He smiled faintly, eyes never leaving your face. “I thought I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

You chuckled, sipping your tea. “You sound like someone who’s about to give a farewell speech.” “Maybe I am.” You frowned. “Jun.”

He turned toward you, eyes reflecting the candlelight, gold and endless and unbearably sad. “You remember everything now, don’t you?” You blinked. “What do you mean?” “Us,” he whispered. “Before this life. Before this house. Before the accident.”

The words hit you like a chill. The images — faint, half-remembered — started to surface. The rain. Screeching tires. The ring glinting against the pavement. Jun’s voice calling your name, desperate, echoing. And then.. nothing.

Your throat tightened. “I- I saw flashes. I thought they were dreams.” He reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was lighter than before — fading. “They were memories. The last ones we shared before everything ended.”

You shook your head, tears already welling. “Ended? No.. we found each other again, didn’t we? You said you waited for me-” “I did,” Jun said, smiling. “Every life I remembered, I searched for you. Sometimes I found you. Sometimes I didn’t. But this time..” He paused, his voice breaking. “This time, you came back to me.”

“Then why- why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I am.” You froze. “No.”

He moved closer, cupping your face, thumbs tracing slow circles over your tears. His hands were almost see-through now — light bleeding through his fingers. “My curse was to remember every life,” he said softly. “To live them all until I learned to let go.”

“Jun, stop-”

“But yours,” he whispered, “was to forget. To live free of the pain. To start again.”

—

The moment the words left his lips, something in your chest cracked open — a white flash of pain, too bright to bear. And then..

White walls. The soft hum of machines. A dull ache at the back of your head. You blinked your eyes open and found yourself lying on a hospital bed. Your throat was dry, your body heavy. The faint rhythm of a heart monitor keeps time with your shallow breathing.

“Mingyu- she’s awake!” You turned your head weakly. Three faces came into focus — Mingyu, Seokmin, and Minghao — all hovering near your bed, eyes wide with relief. Mingyu reached out, holding your hand tightly as if grounding you.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice trembling. “You scared us.” You looked at them, confused. “What.. happened?” Seokmin’s smile faltered. “You got into an accident. You’ve been out for a few days.”

You nodded slowly, your mind foggy. But as you looked at their faces — familiar yet oddly distant — you felt something off. Something hollow. “Was anyone else with me?” you asked after a moment.

They froze. Minghao looked down at the floor, his jaw tight. “No,” he said finally. “You were alone when they found you.” You frowned, trying to recall anything — a road, a sound, a name. But your head throbbed the harder you tried. There was nothing. Just blank space.

Days passed, and you went home, that doesn’t even feel like home. You walked through your apartment, touching the furniture, tracing the edges of picture frames that held no faces. You caught your reflection in the mirror and felt the strangest ache, like someone else should’ve been there beside you. Someone who wasn’t.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you sat on your bed and whispered into the dark — not knowing why, or to whom. “Maybe it’s not about moving on,” you murmured, clutching your chest where that invisible ache lived, “but trying to remember the memories I’ve already lost.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you even realised you were crying. You didn’t know what you were grieving — only that your heart was mourning something you couldn’t recall.

—

You sobbed, shaking your head violently. “Then why- why bring me back here? Why make me remember?” “Because you deserved to know you were loved,” Jun said, voice trembling. “Even after death. Even after forgetting. You were my heart in every lifetime, and I needed you to know that before I go.”

The candle flame flickered. His form wavered, the edges of him breaking apart like smoke. “No,” you cried, clutching his shirt — your hands passing through him. “Please, stay. I’ll remember you this time. I swear, Jun, I won’t forget”

He smiled faintly, leaning forward until his forehead touched yours. “You will. You have to. That’s how you live.” He said. You sobbed. “Then what now? What happens to us? To you” “You live,” he said gently. “You finish your book. You keep the house. You keep going.”

“As for me.. I’ll keep waiting. Like I always do.” You shook your head violently. “No. No, you can’t. You deserve to move on.” “How can I?” Jun whispered. “My heaven was you. This is my fate.. I finally have the reason to cross the afterlife for this life, Y/N.” You felt the warmth of his breath one last time as he whispered,

“Find me again, in another life, my bride” The candle went out.

Silence filled the house — that heavy, sacred kind of silence only grief can make.

You sat there long after, whispering his name into the darkness, your tears falling onto the wooden floor. When the morning light finally touched the veranda, there was no trace of him — just the faint scent of cedar and rose and the ghost of a handprint on your cheek.

And for a moment, as you looked toward the mirror inside the house, you swore you saw him smiling.

Then he was gone.

And on the bed beside you, the veil stirred gently — as if brushed by unseen hands. unheard voice.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ and that’s a wrap!! thank you so much for reading — I hope you liked it!! we’ve still got a few more left on our 2025 kinktober prompt list, next up is jeonghan, then wonwoo. see you all soon! stay safe, healthy, and a little unhinged, loves mwaa

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar

if you’d like to be part of my permanent taglist, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask!! I’d love to include you ❤️

[jesuisstay]

Hellllll yeahhh

[nightshao]

wow the amount of people who keep on upping this angst of mine hahaha i’m tempted to hurt myself and reread

[nightshao]

thank you @cheers-to-you-th for tagging me! (though this is a little too, too late haha) these personality tests actually need to calm down, slapping these truths at my face, good heavens 😭

i’ll tag @lovelylonelinesssvt and anyone who wants to do it!! ❤️

[nightshao]

OMEGA VERSE MINGYU. RRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Kim Mingyu x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ Every year, unmated Alphas and Omegas are brought to a secluded island for a government-regulated “mating season.” You signed up by accident, thinking it was a summer internship. Mingyu signed up to find his mate. Now they’re trapped in a high-stakes world of pheromones, tests, and temptation.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Omegaverse, ABO Dynamics, Slow burn, Futuristic Sci-Fi, Dyatopian/Experimental Society, Fluff, Slight-angst, Subtle Pinning, Alpha x Omega, Forced Proximity, Attempt of Crack, Smut

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 12.2k + Epilogue (345)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, Omegaverse dynamics, ABO terms, knotting (alpha physically locking with omega), bonding bite (mating), intoxication (pheromones taking over them), explicit language, physical to sexual tension, teasing, mention of alcohol and party, first time x not first time (guess who’s who hahaha), protected sex, marking/bruises, dom. alpha! mingyu, sub! omega! reader, rough sex, lost control, dacryphilia, non-consensual undertone during rut (consent is given, but the rut intensifies uncontrollably; omega experiences pain), hair pulling, high pitch moans (a cry lol), territorial behaviour, pheromones play

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ i’ve been writing for years, but this is my very first attempt at an omegaverse story hahaha oml i hope i don’t disappoint! i’ve honestly been obsessed with ABO universes for the longest time. anywayy this one drained all my energy, kinktober is definitely going to be the end of me (in the best way ;)). enjoy reading, loves!!

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The helicopter blades tore through the sea air, scattering salt spray and the smell of fuel. You pressed your palms over the thin headset, trying to hear the attendant’s voice over the roar. “We’ll be landing in five! Keep your IDs visible!” Your badge swung against your chest — OMEGA PROGRAM INTERN | Cohort 07.

Intern. The word calmed you. It meant research, not risk. Or at least, that’s what you’d been told. Below, stretched an island that looked too perfect to be natural: dense forest, golden sand, and clusters of glass-and-wood houses reflecting sunlight like mirrors. Banners along the shoreline read THE MATING PROGRAM — FOR A STABLE TOMORROW.

You frowned. That name wasn’t in the email. The orientation materials had said Behavioural Study Internship, something about ‘pheromone analysis and socio-biological observation.’ Nothing about pairing. Your stomach fluttered, nerves, you told yourself.

The helicopter touched down with a sharp jolt. Heat and humidity rushed in as the door opened. Attendants in grey uniforms directed the group down a path toward a checkpoint lined with scanners. Each machine emitted a faint hum, releasing bursts of scent-neutralizing mist as people passed.

Your wristband beeped when you stepped through. Identity confirmed: Omega, Class C. You followed the others across the white-stone courtyard. Most were around your age, though some looked older — composed, confident, almost predatory. A few Omegas lingered near the edges, eyes downcast.

Then you saw him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair, tan skin, standing just beyond the group like he didn’t belong to it. The sun caught his badge for a moment: KIM MINGYU — ALPHA PARTICIPANT 09. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, yet there was something about him — stillness, focus, awareness of everything. When your eyes met, it was brief, but something in your chest skipped anyway. He looked away first.

A woman in a lab coat stepped onto the platform. Your voice carried through hidden speakers, clear and authoritative. “Welcome to the Mating Season Program. You have all been selected for a government study on compatibility between unbonded Alphas and Omegas. Over the next thirty days, you’ll be participating in controlled environmental trials designed to measure instinct alignment, emotional stability, and pheromone regulation.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. You blinked. Unbonded Alphas and Omegas? The woman continued, as if it were all routine. “Each Omega will be partnered with one Alpha for the duration of the program. These pairings are based on your registered scent and genetic data. Your cooperation ensures optimal results for the Harmony Initiative.”

Your grip on your tablet tightened. Partnered? Your eyes flicked up to the screen overhead displaying name pairings. The list scrolled slowly — then stopped on yours.

Omega 043 — L/N Y/N

Alpha 09 — Kim Mingyu

Your mouth went dry. Across the courtyard, Mingyu had seen it too. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. Then, as the orientation ended and attendants began herding pairs toward their designated cabins, he approached.

“Y/N L/N?” he asked, voice even. You looked up, startled. “Mingyu Kim.” He extended a hand. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Your fingers brushed his, hesitant but polite. His skin was warm. For a heartbeat, something faint slipped past the scent filter — smoke and sandalwood, clean but grounding. He must’ve noticed your reaction because he pulled back immediately, shutting his pheromones down like a switch.

“I thought this was a research internship,” you said, voice low. “Behavioural study, not this..” He paused. She wasn’t supposed to be here, that much was obvious. A clerical error, maybe. Every year, one or two Omegas signed up under the wrong classification and only realised after arrival. If he told you outright, panic would trigger an instinct flare, and the system would intervene.

So he smiled, faint and careful. “It’s still research,” he said. “Just a bit more hands-on than the usual type.” Your brows knit, but nodded slowly. “Ok.”

He wished he could tell you the truth. That the ‘Mating Program’ was less about research and more about control. That y’all were being watched, measured, tested like animals in a new kind of civilization experiment. But for now, silence was the safest option.

Both of you walked together toward your assigned cabin at the western ridge. The structure was small but clean — two narrow beds divided by a glowing sensor line, a kitchenette, and a single desk stacked with rule tablets. You picked one up and read aloud, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Participants must not cross the boundary without consent. Violation triggers restraint activation.” You looked at him. “They sound serious.” “They are,” he said. “Each wristband tracks pheromone spikes. If levels go too high, the staff intervenes.”

“Like a shock collar?” He tried to joke. “More like a gentle reminder to behave.” Your expression didn’t change. Outside, the speakers announced: “Group C, proceed to the mess hall for dinner rotation.”

You and Mingyu followed the illuminated path together. The air smelled faintly sterile, but underneath lingered something rawer — natural pheromones struggling beneath the mist, a constant hum of suppressed instinct. Mingyu could sense your tension with every step; you walked carefully, keeping distance, unconsciously staying downwind from him. Smart. Careful. Entirely unaware that you were being monitored for it.

In the mess hall, rows of tables filled with silent pairs. Observers watched from tinted glass windows behind them. You and Mingyu sat opposite each other, their trays identical, the food looks delicious. He made light conversation — weather, orientation chaos, first impressions of the island. You answered cautiously, then smiled once when he made a bad joke about synthetic protein bars. It softened something in him, that fleeting smile.

By the time you returned to your cabin, the sun had melted into an orange haze and the air was thick with the smell of salt and wood. When the lights dimmed automatically at ten, you lay on your bed, back turned toward the dividing line. Across the room, Mingyu sat against the headboard, scrolling through his tablet though he wasn’t reading.

He could hear your breathing steady, slow. He shouldn’t feel anything. He’d promised himself not to but the faint trace of your scent, hidden beneath your suppressant patch, found him anyway. Clover and Saltwater, quiet but alive.

He looked toward the dividing line, the faint blue glow cutting the room in half. “Soon, you’ll see me differently” he whispered to the dark. Even if you never knew what he was really here for.

—

Morning light seeped through the thin curtains, brushing across your face with a warmth that felt almost criminal in contrast to the controlled sterility of the cabin. You blinked once, twice, and realised you were sharing this small space with someone you didn’t really know. Someone whose scent.. already made your pulse hit erratic speeds.

Mingyu stirred across the sensor line, sitting up on his bed. His dark hair was tousled, one arm stretching across the pillow, and for a fleeting second, you noticed how perfectly normal he looked — how human, not just the perfect Alpha he was supposed to be in this government world. You coughed to cover the thrum in your chest, immediately realising it sounded more like a squeak than a natural sound.

“Morning,” he said casually, not looking at you, voice low, almost teasing in its ease. “Sleep well?” You grumbled. “I would have if the fan didn’t sound like a dying helicopter.”

He finally glanced at you, dark eyes narrowing in mock judgment. “Better a fan than me breathing next to you all night.” Her cheeks warmed. “I would have noticed if you weren’t as quiet as a-” You stopped yourself mid-sentence, realising you might have insulted him without meaning to.

He smirked, leaning back on his bed with a stretch that seemed deliberately slow, as if inviting you to notice. “Quiet as a what?” “Nothing,” you muttered, swatting at him playfully. “I didn’t mean anything.”

He chuckled softly, and it was that sound that made you pause. Something low in your chest fluttered. He didn’t just laugh — it was full-bodied and teasing. And just like that, the tiny lines of mistrust from the previous night softened.

Breakfast in the cabin was a quiet affair. The food, though, was undeniably amazing — fluffy eggs, perfectly toasted bread, and everything smelled like it had been made just for you — yet you barely touched yours. Your eyes kept drifting toward him, toward the way his fingers flexed over the wrapper, the way he stirred his protein shake with slow deliberation.

“You stare too much,” Mingyu said suddenly, not looking up from his breakfast. You froze, mid-bite. “I- what?!” “You were staring,” he said flatly, finally turning those sharp brown eyes on you. “Careful. It’s distracting.” Your heart stuttered, and swallowed hard. “I was not staring!”

“Sure,” he said with a teasing lilt, lifting an eyebrow. “Not staring at the only Alpha I’ve ever met who doesn’t reek of arrogance the second he walks in.” You sputtered, laughing despite yourself. “I wasn’t staring at you, Kim Mingyu. You’re imagining things.”

His smirk widened. “If I’m imagining it, why is your scent spiking near the breakfast table?” You froze. Your suppressor patch. Oh. Right. You had put it on backward this morning. He caught the flicker of panic in your eyes and sighed softly, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Here, let me fix it.”

Before she could protest, his hand hovered over the patch. “Hey! Don’t touch-” you began, but it was too late. The patch clicked into place properly under his careful fingers, and something inside your chest melted at how gentle he was.

“Better,” he said simply, leaning back. His gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, and you immediately busied yourself with the toast, as if rearranging crumbs could erase the awareness of him in the room.

By mid-day, they were led outside to the open training field. The first official test of The Mating Season Program awaited them: a ‘trust and coordination exercise,’ supposedly designed to measure instinct alignment and emotional synchronization. You weren't sure what that meant, but your stomach twisted in anticipation.

The field was circular, with low walls forming a maze-like pattern. Sensors glinted on every corner, and at the centre, a console projected instructions in holographic blue letters. A crowd of Alphas and Omegas milled around, each pair sizing up their partner nervously.

Mingyu kept a careful hand near yours as you were instructed to stand side by side. His scent pressed against you subtly, warm and grounding, and your instincts quivered in response. You swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close he was. “Relax,” he murmured, voice low enough for only you to hear. “We’re fine. Just follow the instructions.”

“I am relaxed,” you whispered back, though your fingers brushed his and you realised you weren't fooling anyone — not even yourself. The first task was deceptively simple: a blindfolded navigation exercise where one partner guided the other through the maze using only verbal commands. You were to wear the blindfold first.

“Your instructions better be good,” you teased, voice sharp with playful challenge. “I don’t trust you.” Mingyu’s lips twitched upward. “I’ve trained for this my entire life. Don’t embarrass me.” You snorted. “You? Embarrassed? That I’d pay to see.”

“Then let’s make it interesting,” he said, leaning closer with that infuriating grin. “Whoever gives the best verbal instructions wins. Loser has to grant one wish. No questions asked.” You raised a brow. “Oh, so we’re betting on who’s better at talking?” “More like who’s better at making the other listen,” he shot back smoothly.

The blindfold went on, and your hands extended in front. Mingyu’s warm presence hovered at your side, soft pressure against your elbow as he guided you step by step. His voice was steady, smooth, teasing when you hesitated: “Two steps forward. Perfect. Left- no, not that far. Lean more on me. There.”

Your heart raced for two reasons: one, because you were genuinely terrified of tripping into the sensors, and two.. because every time his hands brushed yours every time you almost lost your balance, faint sparks shot through your limbs, instincts whispering in ways you weren't ready to interpret.

“You’re.. better than I expected,” you admitted, half-grinning under the blindfold. Mingyu chuckled softly. “Careful with the compliments now, trust me, you’ll owe me later.” Your cheeks heated. “I doubt that.” “Trust me,” he said, voice dropping just enough to make you swallow audibly. “You will.”

Both of you navigated the maze successfully, the sensors registering their coordination. As the blindfold came off, You blinked at the bright sunlight, then up at Mingyu’s unreadable face. He gave you a small, teasing bow. “See? Perfect synchronization. We might actually survive this program yet.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. “Barely. Don’t think this means you’re winning any points.” “Oh, I’m keeping score,” he murmured under his breath, smirking curling faintly. “And you’re already in the lead.” Your stomach flipped, trying not to look at him too long, trying to focus on anything else — the maze, the sensors, the sky. But something about the way he watched you, amused and calculated, made every step and every laugh feel like a tiny spark building between them.

And you didn’t know if you wanted to resist it.

—

The air between you and him still buzzed from the maze test — heat, adrenaline, and something else that refused to cool. You kicked off your shoes the second they entered the cabin, muttering under your breath. “I said left,” you snapped, untying your ponytail and running a hand through your sweat-damp hair.

“I did go left.” Mingyu shut the door with a lazy shove of his foot. “You said left after the sensor beam, not before it.” “I didn’t need to specify!” He tossed his wristband onto the desk, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re impossible when you lose.”

“I didn’t lose-” you began, whirling around, but he was already laughing. His hair was sticking to his forehead, shirt clinging to his chest. He looked unfairly composed for someone who’d just spent an hour navigating traps and alarms. “You literally triggered a pheromone flare,” he teased, taking off his shirt, that made you look all around the cabin. “The system thought we were about to-”

“Shut up.” You turned away so fast you nearly tripped over your own bag. The faint flush climbing your neck betrayed you. You hated that he’d noticed, hated more that he was right — your scent had spiked a while ago when he caught your waist to stop you from colliding into the maze-wall. Just a second of contact, skin on skin, and your Omega instincts had misfired like static.

The air was thick with the aftermath: the lingering musk of Alpha exertion, salt on skin, faint ozone from the humidifiers trying — and failing — to neutralise the pheromones. You grabbed a towel and started wiping the surface of the table. “You smell awful.”

He raised a brow, sitting down on the edge of his bed, still smirking. “You’ve been smelling me all day. Didn’t seem to bother you then.” “That’s because I was too busy trying not to die in that maze!” you shot back, scrubbing harder at nothing in particular. “Now that we’re safe, I realise you reek of Alpha sweat and ego.”

He chuckled low in his throat, watching you dart from desk to counter to sink, fixing, straightening, aligning. “You know,” he said, “most people would just.. rest.” “You’re dripping on the floor,” you said, gesturing to where a trail of water and mud marked his path from the door. “Rest after cleaning. Not before.”

“Is this a thing you do, or are you just trying to distract yourself from how much you like bossing me around?” Your glare was sharp enough to cut through the humidity. “Excuse me?” He lifted his hands in mock surrender, but the grin stayed. “Nothing. Just saying — you keep giving me orders like I’m one of your research subjects.”

“Then listen better,” you muttered, bending down to pick up a discarded towel near his boots. You didn’t notice him move until you straightened up and nearly collided with his chest. The scent hit first — smoke, musky-woody, warm, and something deep that made your knees feel weaker than you’d ever admit. His hand went automatically to your elbow, steadying your body.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low. You froze, towel half-raised, his breath ghosting over your temple. Too close. Every nerve in your body was screaming in quiet chaos. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, stepping back, but there wasn’t much room. The cabin felt smaller somehow, the air heavier.

Mingyu’s eyes flicked over your face, your flushed cheeks, the damp strands of hair sticking to your neck. “You missed a spot,” he said finally, reaching past you to wipe a faint streak of dirt from your shoulder. His fingers brushed bare skin — accidental, maybe — but the spark that shot through your spine said otherwise.

You swatted his hand away. “You’re not helping.” “I’m trying,” he said, still smiling. “But you keep moving.” “Because you’re bad at this.” “Or you’re just-” He leaned closer, eyes glinting. “Too easy to distract.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but nothing came out. The silence that fell was deafening. Even the hum of the cabin filters seemed to fade under the sound of your heartbeat. His scent pressed against your senses again, heavier this time, dominant but controlled, deliberate.

Then, mercifully, you broke it. “I’m taking the shower first.” Mingyu blinked, then laughed — loud, genuine, disbelieving. “No way. I carried half the equipment during that test, I go first.” “You’re drenched in sweat-”

“Exactly my point.” “You’ll fog up the bathroom for an hour, you steam machine,” you snapped, pushing past him toward the bathroom door. He stepped sideways, blocking your path, half amused, half challenging. “Say please.” Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“Just trying to teach you basic manners, intern.” Your glare sharpened. “Move, Alpha.” The title rolled off your tongue like a threat, not a submission. His expression shifted — subtle, but noticeable. “Careful with that tone,” he murmured. “You might trigger something you can’t handle.”

Your pulse jumped. The air between you and Mingyu thickened again, instincts coiling tight and hot. Neither moved for a full heartbeat — his frame towering, yours unyielding, the invisible boundary of the cabin sensors glowing faintly behind them.

“I said move.” He didn’t. “Make me.” It wasn’t a challenge, not really. It was instinct, a dance of pheromones and pride. You tried to step around him, but your foot slipped slightly on the wet floor — his fault, probably — and before you could catch yourself, his hands were on your waist, steadying you. Again.

Your palms landed flat on his chest. Hard muscle, steady heartbeat, and warmth that sank through your fingers like fire. Neither of you breathed. “See?” he said quietly. “You’d fall apart without me.” “Arrogant,” you whispered back, though your voice came out softer than intended.

He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second — so fast you could have imagined it. Then he stepped back, letting the air rush between you again, pheromone scent filters whirring like they were working overtime. “Fine,” he said finally, smirking again to cover the crack in his composure. “Ladies first.”

Your brows furrowed, suspicious. “Really?” “Yeah,” he said, grabbing his towel and tossing it onto the bed. “If I go in first, you’ll just complain I left water everywhere.” “You will,” you said. “Then go. Before I change my mind.” You hesitated just long enough for him to notice, then turned toward the bathroom with forced calm. “Don’t mess anything while I’m gone.”

“No promises.” You closed the door a little harder than necessary. Mingyu exhaled, running a hand through his hair. The scent neutralizers hissed faintly, but the damage was already done.

Because under the sterile air and the hum of technology, the cabin still smelled faintly of clover and saltwater — and Mingyu’s desire.

The filters had worked all throughout the night, humming softly until the air finally smelled sterile again. When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the quiet — the kind of stillness that followed chaos. Then came the faint snoring from the other bed.

Mingyu was face-down, one arm dangling off the mattress, hair sticking up at every possible angle. He was shirtless again — why is he always shirtless!? His towel and some pillows had fallen halfway to the floor, and his blanket was tangled like he’d wrestled with it all night. You sighed, sitting up. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered. From the other bed, he grumbled, “Morning to you too.”

“You’re awake?” “Was. Until you started judging me.” He cracked one eye open, voice rough with sleep. “You always look at people this early?” “Only when they forget what gravity is.” You kicked his fallen towel toward him. “Pick that up before the cabin humidity mutates it into another species.”

He grinned, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head, muscles flexing in that unfair, casual way that made you instantly look away. “You’re really this uptight before breakfast?” “I’m this uptight because of you.” Before he could respond, the island’s PA system crackled to life. “Participants proceed to Test Center Three for compatibility calibration. Attendance is mandatory.”

You blinked. “Compatibility what?” He yawned. “Oh. That one.” “That one?!” “It’s not that bad,” he said, standing and grabbing his shirt. “It’s just like a scent test.”

“A scent test?” You nearly tripped while putting on your shoes. “You couldn’t have mentioned that before we signed up for the maze death trap yesterday?” “You didn’t ask.” You glared. “You’re lucky there are laws against killing people in controlled environments.”

“I’m sure there’s a loophole somewhere,” he said lightly, heading toward the sink and reaching for a toothbrush. “Brush fast, we’ll be late.” You squinted at him. “You don’t rush brushing your teeth, anyways you’re used to having a bad breath” You joked, trying to offend him

He shot you a mock-offended look, foam gathering at the corner of his mouth. “Wow. You wound me.” “Good,” you said, grabbing your own toothbrush and standing beside him, both of you brushing in silence — except for the muffled noises of running water and the occasional clink of toothbrush against the sink.

It was oddly domestic. Two strangers, side by side, spitting mint foam and pretending they weren’t stealing glances at each other in the mirror. Mingyu rinsed his mouth and flashed a grin, the toothpaste scent replacing the lingering sweat from the night before. “Better?”

“Barely,” you said, even though the clean mint scent actually helped. “Now hurry up before I report you”

He laughed, grabbing the door handle and swinging it open for you. “Come on, intern.”

—

The walk to the testing dome was a hike through controlled wilderness — beautiful tall trees, sensor drones hovering like dragonflies, the faint hum of machinery beneath the soil. The dome itself looked like a glass bubble dropped in the middle of paradise.

Inside, white light bounced off sterile walls. Beta Technicians in pale grey suits moved silently, like they’d been born in laboratories. Mingyu leaned in and whispered, “You’ll be fine. Just breathe normally.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You probably rehearse breathing for a living.” He chuckled. “You’d be surprised.” You heard them calling names — “Participant 0328 Joshua. Participant 0271 Ariana.” — an Omega and Alpha stepped forward all smiles, no single nervous cell at all, unlike you.

When they called both yours and Mingyu’s name, you stepped forward, heart pounding. The scientist gestured toward two adjacent glass pods. “Step in. Maintain composure. The system will measure your pheromone synchronization levels.”

You turned to Mingyu. “Our what?” “Basically,” he said, voice dropping to that maddeningly calm tone, “it’s a test that tracks how compatible our instincts are. Don’t panic.” “Why would I panic?” “You’re already panicking.” You scowled and stepped into your pod before he could tease you more.

The glass door hissed shut. The air inside was warm, slightly humid, carrying a faint trace of synthetic pheromones that clung to your senses like invisible smoke. Your pulse spiked. Across from you, Mingyu stood in his pod, hands behind his back, calm as a statue — except for the way his gaze never left you.

The monitor beside you blinked to life, showing two rhythm lines — one red, one blue — pulsing in sync. “Synchronization: 53%,” a voice said over the intercom. “Sunken baseline compatibility.” You frowned. “Sunken what now?”

Before anyone could answer, the test ended. The pod door slid open, releasing a faint hiss of air. You stepped out, dazed. “That was- weird. Why do I feel like we just participated in a sci-fi dating app experiment?”

“Because you kind of did,” Mingyu said, rubbing the back of his neck. A technician approached, handing him a sealed tablet. “Your pair data, sir.” He nodded, taking it without looking inside. You noticed immediately.

“What’s that?” you asked. “Just stats,” he said too casually, slipping the tablet into his jacket pocket. “You’re hiding something.” “I’m protecting you from boredom.” You crossed your arms. “You’re lying.” He grinned, walking backward as you followed. “Wouldn’t be the first time you accused me of that.”

“I’m not accusing. I’m stating a fact.” “Then we’re both right.” You rolled your eyes, pushing past him toward the exit — though your curiosity buzzed louder than your annoyance. Because you were sure of two things:

One, the machine wasn’t wrong about your heartbeat syncing with his; and two, Mingyu is definitely up to something.

—

Later that night, while you typed your work notes on the cabin’s desk, Mingyu lay sprawled on his bed again, tossing a small stress ball in the air. “Stop that,” you said without looking up. “You’re typing like you’re declaring war.”

“I’m trying to distract myself from the statistics in their synchronization metrics.” “Translation: you’re overanalyzing again.” You glared at him. “You didn’t even read the test results.” “Didn’t have to,” he said, catching the ball one last time and sitting up. “I already know how this goes.”

There was something in his voice — quiet, almost regretful and.. sad. But before you could ask, he smiled again. “You missed a spot on the counter, by the way.” Your pen flew across the room. “Alpha.” He ducked, laughing. “You’re cute when you’re homicidal.”

You pressed your palm over your face. “I hate you.” “You keep saying that,” he said, voice low, grin lazy. “Starting to sound like a lie.”

The PA announcement had come like a gift from the island gods: “Participants are requested to attend the evening social calibration event at the main beach. Attendance is highly recommended but not mandatory.”

You groaned, tugging at your damp shirt and placing your book beside your iced coffee, sitting straight, looking over Mingyu inside the cabin from the balcony. “Social calibration? They literally can’t make anything normal, can they?” Mingyu smirked, moving to the closet, trying to find something to wear. “Relax. It’s basically a party with rules and sensors. We survive, we socialise, we annoy each other.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds.. thrilling.” “Come on,” he said, walking over you, grabbing your arm lightly. “Let me show you what ‘thrilling’ looks like.”

—

The beach was a scene straight out of a movie. Soft waves lapped at the shore, glowing string lights stretched from palm tree to palm tree, and a bonfire crackled at the centre. The sand glowed gold in the firelight, and the scent of salt mixed with faintly synthetic pheromones from the island’s people. Alphas and Omegas milled around, drinks in hand, laughing, shouting, and occasionally bumping into each other.

“You’re- actually kinda beautiful when you’re not trying to kill me,” Mingyu muttered as you stepped carefully over a tide pool. “I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shot back, brushing sand off your leg. “Sure, sure.” He leaned closer to help flick sand off your ankle, his fingers brushing your skin. Instantly, your pulse spiked. He noticed, of course, but kept his smirk casual.

“Thanks,” you said quickly, stepping back. “You’re dangerous.” “Me? Nah.” His hand lingered near yours a fraction too long. “I’m helpful.” From across the fire, you caught sight of Joshua and Ariana — the partners you saw a week ago from the compatibility test — arms looped around each other, laughing way too loud. Joshua looked in your direction. “Oh, look at them,” he called, nodding towards you and Mingyu.

Ariana suddenly appeared beside you, snatching you away from Mingyu. “So, spill,” she said, leaning in with a sly grin. “How does Mingyu treat you? Does he.. boss you around? Protect you? Or is he all charm and teasing?” “I- uh.. he’s fine,” you stammered, trying to wiggle free. “We were just talking.”

Ariana raised a brow, completely unconvinced. “Talking? Oh please, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Admit it- he’s hooked!” Before you could protest, she started tugging you around the perimeter of the fire, narrating your interactions like a commentator at a sports match. “Notice how he always keeps a hand near you. Watch how he blocks other Alphas subtly. That’s classic possessive Alpha energy! That Alpha wants to bond with you, hundred percent.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to step back, but she only tightened her grip, dragging you toward the main circle of people. “Ahm.. I don’t think-” you protested, cheeks heating. “I’m not-” “You are! Don’t fight it.”

Just then, Mingyu returned from getting drinks with Joshua. His gaze immediately found you, and something about the way he strode across the sand made everyone else pause. Ariana, noticing, couldn’t resist: “Ooooh, protective much?” she teased loudly, smirking.

Mingyu, without breaking stride, reached out and took your hand from Ariana’s grip. “Never mind them,” he said casually, voice low enough only you could hear, yet sharp with quiet warning. He tugged you a little closer, brushing past any Alpha who might have gotten too near.

Ariana’s grin widened, but now it held a mischievous edge. “Well, since we’re being honest..” she leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Joshua and I, we already did it.”

Your mouth fell open. “You what?!” Joshua, standing a little behind her, puffed out his chest proudly. “Balcony, baby. The sensors can’t cover everything.” You froze, trying to process. “Balcony? How- how is that even possible with the sensor lines?”

Mingyu chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Why are you even asking that?” he teased, eyes glinting, clearly amused by your flustered state. You blinked at him, cheeks still hot. “Nevermind”

“Calm down, intern” he whispered, tugging you slightly toward the fire. “Let’s not dwell on that. Come on, the party's starting.”

And indeed, the party was in full swing. Soonyoung had claimed the sand dance floor, waving a classic Sex on the beach drink like a banner while flailing wildly. Jeonghan weaved between people, laughing and charming every Omega in sight. Minghao stayed calm, perched against a palm tree, quietly observing, while Seungcheol hovered near a group of guys, half-protective, towards Mila, his own partner in the program.

Mingyu kept you close as you navigated the crowd, his arm brushing yours, body subtly positioning to block any other Alpha getting too close. Each time someone attempted a ‘friendly’ approach, his eyes flicked over sharply, just enough to warn them without causing a scene. You noticed, secretly pleased and secretly flustered by the attention.

The night wore on, drinks circulated, and laughter rose louder. At one point, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bonfire circle with Hailey, Hansol’s partner, and Mingyu beside you, espresso martini in hand. He leaned back on his hands, smirking lazily. “So, tell me honestly, do you like being teased like that?”

“Teased?!” You spat a sip of your drink in mock offense. “No! Not at all.” He chuckled, eyes gleaming. “Uh-huh. That’s why your ears are red.” “I’m not red! You idiot.” you protested, though your voice wavered.

“You totally are,” he said softly, leaning closer. His hand brushed against yours as he reached for his drink, fingers grazing yours. The accidental contact made your pulse fastened. “So.. you think all the teasing is funny, huh?” You glanced up at him, mock glare in place, but your heartbeat says other wise.

“Very,” he admitted with a grin. “Especially watching you try to act composed.” A few rounds of drinks later, voices louder and movements sloppier, you found yourself laughing uncontrollably at one of Soonyoung’s ridiculous attempts at limbo under a string of lights. Mingyu’s laughter blended with yours, and for a moment, the island, the tests, and all the weird rules melted away.

At some point, he reached over and brushed sand from your arm. “Careful,” he murmured, his hand lingering just a moment too long. The warmth, the scent, the nearness — it all made your own pheromones flare.

You stared at him, a shiver crawling up your spine despite yourself. “Mingyu-” His eyes darkened as he caught your scent, fingers running through his hair, struggling to keep his composure while clearly unraveling inside.

Before either of you could think further, a slow, ridiculous party song started playing. Mingyu laughed, tugging you lightly toward the open sand dance area. “You know.. we could dance,” he said, hands finding your waist in the most natural, casual way possible. Almost touching your bare skin, as you wore a backless dress, his touch sending shivers.

“I- dance? Here? With everyone watching?” “Exactly,” he replied with a teasing smirk. Your Omega instincts screamed: too close, too warm, too him. And somehow, without either of you planning it, your lips pressed together in a brief, electrifying kiss.

“You owe me a wish from a week ago.. kiss me Y/N”

—

Mingyu’s eyes never left you as he guided you toward the open dance area, body moving seamlessly in rhythm with the chaotic energy of the party. He could feel your pulse spike — fast, shallow, trembling in time with his own. The scent hit him again, subtle but undeniable: your scent, sweet and seductive with that faint underlying Omega heat that had been building all evening.

God, he thought, she’s already lighting me up and we haven’t even…

To anyone else, he might have looked like a confident S-class Alpha enjoying a social gathering. But beneath the calm exterior, his mind was a storm. I didn’t come here for fun. I came here to find my mate.

The program, the tests, the chemical-laced air — all of it was designed to pair Omegas and Alphas according to pheromone compatibility and instinct. And Mingyu had known the moment he signed up that this would be his chance to claim what his body had been craving: a bonded Omega.

When he’d seen your scent and compatibility results, the analysis the program provided, he chose to not hand you, he’d hate how other partners already hit their 70%, other 80%, while you and his are only at 53%. The system had recommended certain Alphas for you, ways to bond subtly without overwhelming your instincts. But Mingyu ignored the suggestions, intentionally. He wanted you to choose him, to approach you without pressure, letting your instincts find him on their own.

No protocols. No lists. No instructions. Just us.

Until the kiss already happened.

It started slow, hesitant, almost accidental — your lips pressed to his in a fleeting spark of heat. But the instant they touched, Mingyu’s Alpha instincts flared. He could feel the soft pulse of your lips, the tremor of your Omega nerves beneath his fingertips, and it was intoxicating. He deepened it slightly, not forceful, but demanding attention, sliding one hand from your waist to your lower back, and another hand to your nape, drawing you closer.

Your scent hit him full force, sweet and warm and entirely drowning him, mixed with the faint tang of alcohol. His free hand twitched, almost involuntarily, toward your hair, tucking strands behind your ear, brushing your neck. He could feel your pulse racing against him, every beat an invitation, and the sharp, delicious ache of desire flaring up between his legs.

Damn it, he thought, lips still brushing yours, she’s all I can think about. She’s driving me crazy..

You were trembling slightly, startled at your own boldness yet unable to pull away. Every nerve in your body sang with the friction of proximity, the brush of skin, the subtle pressure of his Alpha body guiding yours without force. Your hands drifted to his chest, not pushing, not restraining, just tentatively pressing, feeling the warmth, the strong steady beat beneath his ribs.

He noticed, of course. Every instinct sharpened. The urge to mark, to claim, to protect — flared beneath his calm exterior — both your pheromones becoming more stronger. His lips moved against yours, teasing, testing, making sure you wanted it too before allowing the kiss to deepen, just slightly, lingering enough to ignite both your Omega desire and his own Alpha restraint.

From the crowd, the sounds of music, laughter, and distant shouts faded. There was only you and him. Your scent, warm and enticing, curling around him, pulling him in. Your heat pools low in your belly, pulse racing, breath hitching in short, uneven bursts.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and smoldering in the firelight. His fingers lingered on your waist, thumb brushing along the curve as if memorising you. “You taste like trouble,” he murmured, voice low, husky with Alpha hunger.

You shivered, caught between protest and want. “And you taste like danger,” you whispered back, cheeks aflame. His smirk deepened, leaning down so that his forehead touched yours briefly. “And yet.. you like it,” he said, almost a statement, almost an assurance for himself.

Your breath caught. Yes. Yes, you did. But the heat, the tension, the risk. The accidental brush of lips, the lingering touch, the cloudy smell of him — it was a full sensory overload, and you knew neither of you could resist this pull forever.

And in that charged moment, Mingyu’s hand tightened on your waist just slightly, his other brushing a wayward strand of hair behind your ear again. The taste of your Omega pheromones was like fire in his mouth, and though the dance floor was still chaotic behind you, in this little bubble of heat and proximity, the rest of the world could wait.

He was aware of every pulse in your body, every quiver, every tiny movement, and he savoured the quiet knowledge that your instincts were responding to him as strongly as his Alpha desire was to you. For a heartbeat, nothing else existed — just you, just him, and the unspoken promise of what could come next.

And even though neither of you said it, both knew: the game had begun.

“So that’s the pair everyone’s talking about!” Jeonghan shouted from across the sand, grinning wildly. “Better watch that balcony, Minghao and Lily! Their cabin is closest to yours.” He added, laughing. Soonyoung and Seungcheol hooted, waving drinks and laughing. “Don’t let them copy Joshua and Ariana!”

You yelped, breaking apart, cheeks flaming, stumbling back slightly. Mingyu groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I swear.. y’all need to shut the fuck up” “It’s nothing like that” you shouted, brushing sand off your arm, glaring at the group.

He chuckled, leaning close anyway, whispering in your ear, “Next time, say that straight to my face, after letting your pheromones consume me.”

You could only glare and roll your eyes, because somehow, despite the teasing, the sand, and the chaos of the island party.. It was perfect. The kiss is perfect and so is the man, who’s coming home with you.

—

And even in the midst of the noisy, glowing chaos of the beach party, there was only one truth Kim Mingyu couldn’t ignore ever since the beginning: he had found his Omega.

The morning sun poured through the cabin window, painting everything in soft gold. It’s already the middle of third week in the island. You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror when Mingyu appeared behind you, leaning casually against the doorframe. His bare chest glinted in the early light, a towel still draped over his shoulders.

“Morning, intern,” he said, voice low, teasing, but now laced with a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before. You turned, smirk ready. “Morning, Alpha. Still planning to trip me over my own feet today?”

He grinned, stepping closer, hands in his pockets. “Depends. Are you going to make me?” Your cheeks warmed. Something about the way he moved — broader, more confident — made your stomach twist. The kiss from that night lingered in every nerve, every glance. He was no longer just teasing. He was claiming. And he knew you’re being affected by it.

“I said don’t mess with me,” you warned, swatting his chest lightly. “Or what?” he countered, leaning so close that your shoulders brushed. His scent — smoke, sandalwood, warm Alpha dominance — washed over you, making your pulse spike. “You’re already flustered. Admit it.”

“I’m not flustered!” you argued, though your eyes threatened to betray you. He chuckled, a deep, knowing sound, and leaned closer to press a quick, fleeting brush of lips to your temple. “Sure,” he whispered. “Keep telling yourself that.”

—

Later, the PA system crackled to life: “Participants, please proceed to Test Center Six. Today’s evaluation: physical coordination and instinctual response exercise. Pair engagement required.” You glanced at Mingyu. “Physical.. coordination?”

He smirked, grabbing your hand, fingers warm and confident. “Sounds like fun. And by fun, I mean I get to see how well you respond when I’m close.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him. The new test chamber was wide and dimly lit, illuminated by soft lines marking the floor and a series of ropes, pulleys, and platforms suspended above shallow water. What in a world of kinky is this?

An Enigma technician explained, “Pairs will navigate the course together. Balance, timing, and proximity will be recorded. Points awarded for synchronization and instinctive coordination. Physical contact is expected.” You swallowed. Your pulse fastened just hearing that last line. Physical contact, huh? Sounds intimate.

“Great,” you muttered, voice tight. Mingyu’s hand brushed yours again, casual, confident, claiming. “Deep breaths, intern,” he said. “We’ll be fine. Just trust me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Trust you- with what exactly?”

“You’ll see,” he smirked, stepping even closer. His hand hovered near yours, brushing just enough to make your skin tingle. “Physical coordination test. Partnered. Intimate. Hands-on. You’ll get the idea fast.” Your stomach fluttered. “Intimate? Like?”

“Like this,” he said, stepping behind you. The challenge was simple on paper: a mirror challenge. One person mimics the other’s movements perfectly, no talking, just touch and timing. The kicker? You’d be so close that every subtle brush of skin counted.

He leaned against the edge of the platform, close enough that the heat radiating off him made your pulse faster. “I’ll go first,” he said, and raised his arms, slow and deliberate. His hands hovered in front of him, then moved to his chest, down to his hips. You mirrored him, careful, but the moment your arms brushed his, something electric shot through your body.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re already reacting.” “Reacting to what?” you whispered, cheeks burning. “Me,” he said simply, stepping closer so your sides pressed together. “Only to me.”

The next move required a subtle shift: he placed one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder, guiding you through a slow, synchronized pivot. Your bodies pressed together lightly, hips almost brushing. The tension was unbearable — every nerve in your body screaming awareness.

“Ladies first?” he teased, voice low and teasing. You froze. “Wha-” “You go first,” he said, hand lingering near your lower back. “I’ll follow your lead.” You swallowed, heart racing, and slowly moved, feeling him mirror every motion, every subtle shift of weight. His chest brushed your back, his arm curved naturally against yours. Your breath hitched. This wasn’t just a test — it was a deliberate, intoxicating dance, and you were trapped in it.

By the time you finished, your cheeks were hot, your pulse wild, and your body humming from the mere closeness. Mingyu smirked, eyes dark and teasing. “See? I told you it’d be effective.”

“Effective? You mean torturous,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath while secretly craving the heat of him pressing so close. “Depends,” he murmured, leaning so near your ear that you could feel his warm breath. “Depends how much attention you pay and how much you let yourself enjoy it.”

Your knees almost betrayed you. Your stomach fluttered, and for a brief, dizzying moment, you realised just how much your body craved that closeness — the banters, the steady pressure, the warmth of him.

By the end of the course, drenched in sweat and heat, you were panting, hair clinging to your neck, and heart racing. Mingyu’s fingers brushed yours one last time as you stepped back. His eyes held a glint of amusement and satisfaction.

“You did great,” he murmured, leaning closer, hand brushing the back of yours. “Better than I expected.” You scoffed, trying to push away the flutter in your chest. “Better than you expected? You’re an Alpha, this is your test.”

“Maybe I was expecting to get distracted,” he said, voice low, teasing, hand lingering near yours just long enough to set your pheromones on fire again. Your cheeks burned. “Distracted by what?” “You,” he admitted quietly, smirk tugging at his lips. “Always you.”

“And did I?” You asked and before you even dispossessed the question he already answered “You always do.”

And in that moment, standing sweaty and unsteady, you realised another thing, that the tests weren’t just measuring compatibility — they were letting him explore every reaction of yours. Every shiver, every hesitation, every flinch — all under his control.

The monitor beside you blinked to life, showing two rhythm lines — one red, one blue — pulsing in sync. You’re already used to it, unlike the first time you went into the glass pods

“Synchronization: 94%,” a voice said over the intercom. “Maximum baseline compatibility. Reward unlocked: private suite access. Enjoy your evening.” You froze, heart hammering. “Ninety-four? Now that’s a big jump”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with something teasing, something dangerous, as he leaned slightly forward on you. “Looks like our little experiment worked out nicely,” he murmured, voice low. Before you could respond, the two technicians stepped in.

“Congratulations,” one said brightly, a tablet in hand. “Your reward awaits. You’ll be escorted to a private suite — no sensor lines, complete privacy. Follow us, please.” Mingyu’s hand brushed yours as you stepped out. The simple contact made you flustered, and he smirked knowingly. “Private, huh? Finally. Just you and me.”

You tried to focus on the walk to the waiting vehicle, but every brush of his fingers, every teasing glance, made your stomach twist. When the sleek car door opened for you both, Mingyu caught your arm, pulling you close enough for your side to press against his. “Trust me?” he asked softly, voice dipping lower. “I think so,” you managed, breath hitching.

He pressed a quick, teasing kiss to your temple, grin curling at the corner of his lips. “Good. I’ll take care of you.” The Beta staff watched quietly as the two of you settled in, giving subtle cues but never intruding, leaving you acutely aware of each other and the heat simmering between you.

As the car pulled away, you realized that 94% wasn’t just a number — it was a promise of what tonight could bring. And both of your desired attractions towards each other.

The car pulled up to a secluded wing of the island, sleek and modern, lights casting a soft glow on the polished metal and glass. As the door opened, the cool night air brushed against you, but inside the suite, the temperature seemed warmer, almost like it was made to hold you both.

Mingyu was the first to step in, his hand brushing briefly against yours again — casual, but deliberate. “Wow,” he breathed, scanning the room. The suite was spacious, minimalist, yet intimate: soft, indirect lighting, a plush couch, and a king-size bed tucked behind a semi-sheer divider. No sensors anywhere to be found.

You wandered in slowly, letting your eyes take it all in. Everything screamed privacy, a little bubble away from the eyes of the program, a space that felt almost sacred. Your pulse was still racing from the pod test, from the walk, from every casual touch he’d given you so far.

Mingyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that sly half-smile. “Not bad, intern? Our little reward.” His gaze flicked over your face, and for a moment it softened. “Not that I’d say no to any excuse to be alone with you.” You let out a nervous laugh, running a hand over the back of the couch. “I- it’s just weird. Feels like everything is moving so fast.”

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, his voice low. “I get that. But I think this is the first time we’ve had a space where we can actually.. just be honest.”

You turned toward him, heart thudding. “Talk like this?” He nodded. “Yeah. I want to talk like this. With you. About everything.” You swallowed, hesitant but trusting. “Mingyu, I’ve never really felt this.. I don’t even know how to explain it. Like, with you, my instincts, my pheromones, my feelings they’re loud. And it’s scary, but also.. right.”

He took another step, closer still, until you could feel the faint brush of his fingers along yours again. “I know,” he said softly. “I feel the same. And I want to be honest with you. About everything I’ve been thinking, feeling since the start.” Your stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

“Everything,” he confirmed, eyes locking with yours. “I chose you. From the beginning. Even before the tests, before the pods, before I even fully understood my own instincts, I knew there was something about you. Something that made me want more than just, a fling or a game. I wanted a mate. And I realised, it’s you. Always been you.”

Your chest tightened. “Mingyu I don’t understand.” He sighed, pulled you to sit on the edge of the bed, while he pulled a chair to position himself, sitting in front of you, and held your hands “Us, Alphas, are given the chance to choose the Omega we would want to be partners with. Did you really think a summer intern would need a ‘hot picture’ of yours?” He laughed and that made you laugh as well.

He lifts a hand to rest lightly against your cheek. “I’ve spent my whole life.. being the powerful Alpha, trying to control what I feel. The kind who other people hate, just because I’m an S-class Alpha who ‘keeps on seducing their partners.’ I’m always on guard but with you I don’t need to. I want to be honest, with myself and with you. I want to find a mate.. someone I can trust, someone who understands me. I want that to be you.”

Your breath caught, his words sinking into you like warmth you didn’t know you needed. “You idiot- I’ve been hating on you this whole time. How could you even trust me?” you teased, breaking the heavy mood. Mingyu chuckled, the sound low and fond. “I like my woman feisty. Guess that’s part of the reason.” You exhaled slowly, trying to pull the moment back into something serious. “I want to try,” you said softly. “With you.”

His grin returned, small but genuine, eyes glinting with both mischief and something tender. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other, hands intertwined, breathing in the quiet, letting the weight of honesty settle between you. You could feel every beat of his pulse through the connection of your fingers, every heat of his body, and you realised that this — this trust, this honesty, this raw openness — was something worth more than any percentage.

Mingyu’s thumb traced slow circles over the back of your hand, grounding you, but the air between you was changing — thickening, warming.

You felt it first: the faint curl of heat spreading low in your stomach, the sharp awareness of every breath he took. His scent started to coil around you like invisible threads. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, pupils dilating, skin prickling. Mingyu’s eyes darkened as he caught your scent shift. “..You feel that?” he murmured, voice deepening.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “It’s not supposed to come today..” He exhaled shakily, leaning closer until the space between you dissolved. “That’s because of our pheromones syncing,” he said softly, though the faint tremor in his voice betrayed his own struggle. “Yours is calling mine, just like how mine is addicted to yours.”

The words made your breath hitch. His scent pressed into your senses, comforting yet intoxicating. You could almost taste it — warm and wild — and it left you dizzy with want. He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, every syllable rough with restraint.

But you didn’t want him to stop. “Don’t,” you breathed.

The moment you said it, something in him broke loose. His lips found yours, deep and hungry, the kind of kiss that stole the air from your lungs. Every movement carried that unspoken pull — the primal rhythm of Alpha and Omega — and your body trembled beneath the surge of warmth that followed.

His hands roamed, not in greed but reverence, mapping the curve of your spine, the tremor of your breath. You responded in kind, fingers clutching at his shirt as if to anchor yourself through the haze of scent and sensation. Like calling over him to join you at the bed.

The pheromones in the room thickened, palpable, wrapping around both of you like heat made tangible. You could feel your pulse hammering in your throat, the edges of your mind softening as instinct started to slip past reason. “Mingyu-” your voice cracked, your body reacting faster than you could think. “It’s.. starting-”

He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing a tear that had escaped down your face from the overwhelming rush of heat. “I know,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours again. “It’s your heat. You’re okay, you’re not alone.”

You tried to steady your breathing, but every inhale was laced with him. His scent, his warmth, his voice — it all burned together until it was impossible to separate what was yours and what was his.

And then you felt it: the answering shift from him. A low growl echoed in his chest, barely restrained. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing ragged. “You’re triggering my rut,” he said, voice thick and hoarse. “You smell too good, love.”

Your heart raced at the way he said it — half a warning, half a confession. He caught your trembling hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of your wrist. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll take care of you,” he murmured again, that same promise from the car but now burning with raw sincerity.

You nodded, unable to form words. The air was shimmering with pheromones, the temperature of the room rising with every exhale. When his mouth found yours again, it wasn’t a kiss this time — it was a vow, a very, very dirty and hungry one.

He moved slowly, reverently, pulling you closer, guiding you down onto the soft sheets. Your breaths mingled, uneven and desperate, and the world shrank down to just the rhythm of his heartbeat and the sound of your name falling from his lips.

You didn’t need words anymore. Every look, every trembling breath said everything: trust, want, connection.

Mingyu’s hands moved slowly, as he slid fabric away from your skin. Every brush of his fingers felt like a spark, heat blooming wherever he touched, as if the fire building inside you was spilling outwards. His mouth never left yours, the kiss deepening, hungry but controlled, even as he stripped away the barriers between you one by one.

By the time the last piece of clothing slipped from your body, you were trembling under the weight of his touch. He finally drew back just enough to look at you — his chest rising and falling, eyes dark and unblinking. I could stare at you all day — before tugging his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You couldn’t help the shaky laugh that escaped you. “You’re so expert at this,” you teased, trying to ground yourself.

The corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of heat and something softer. He popped the button of his pants but leaned in to press another kiss to your lips, trailing it up to your ear where his breath came hot and low. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever touched,” he whispered, his voice like velvet laced with gravel, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to take care of you.”

He pulled back again, eyes locking with yours, and slid his pants and briefs down, baring himself completely. For a heartbeat you forgot to breathe. He was — bigger than you imagined, every inch of him radiating the power of an S-class Alpha. No way in heavens that will fit in me!

Your gaze flickered down involuntarily, and his fingers caught your chin, tilting your face back up to his. His thumb stroked the corner of your mouth, his smirk dark but teasing. “Eyes on me first, love,” he said softly, a command wrapped in a caress. “You can stare all you want later when I’m already moving inside you.”

“Condom,” you said, trying to sound bold — though the tremor in your voice only made Mingyu’s grin widen. He reached toward the nightstand, rifling through the drawer until he pulled out an entire box, lifting it with a teasing tilt of his head that perfectly mirrored your cockiness.

You were about to laugh, but then the change hit you — sudden, scorching. Heat pulsed through your veins like wildfire, your skin too warm, your body too aware of every brush of air, every inch of him standing too close. You feel too hot, it’s starting to burn you. The only thought that made sense was the one that slipped out in a whisper. “Hold me…”

For a moment, he froze — caught off guard by the softness of it — then his expression melted into something darker. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he drew you close.

“I will,” he murmured, voice roughened with no restraint to be found anymore. “My needy omega.” “I am- Mingyu, it hurts,” you managed, breath shaking.

“Shh,” he soothed, thumb tracing your jaw as he studied you like you were something sacred and dangerous all at once. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are like this, crying and begging for me.” He leaned in again, pressing butterfly kisses across your face, your temple, the corners of your mouth — each touch softening the ache that was building between you.

“Mingyu..” you breathed, “I should tell you, I’m not- this is not new. You’re not my first.” He stilled, jaw tightening, eyes lowering for a heartbeat before lifting again, his pheromones thickening in the air, heavy with unspoken instinct. The atmosphere shifted, charged and magnetic, his control flickering at the edges, his scent fully suffocating you, like a spell to make you go crazy for him.

“Then,” he said finally, voice deep and deliberate, “It’s my goal to make sure you won’t even know it’s my first.”

“You’ll forget anyone else ever existed”

He said as he moved with a single, decisive motion — enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips, your hands clutching at his back as though to anchor yourself, nails digging into his skin while the air between you shattered into heat and breathless sound — as he shoved his length inside you in one push.

“God- you feel so tight, you feel so heavenly, love.” Mingyu started moving slowly, giving you time to adjust. His eyes were closed, while yours rolled back, both of you feeding into your heat and his rut. When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, his pace quickened, completely giving in to his hunger until it was finally satiated, his desire finally breaking free.

“Ugh- uhh, Mingyu. Yes! I love that! Deeper.” Words couldn’t describe how completely full and alive you felt. It was as if you could see both heaven and hell at the same time. You had never experienced anything like this with any other partner before — Mingyu was doing an incredible job of making you feel this way.

Mingyu’s breath hitched as the room thickened with heat. The air seemed alive — charged — both your pheromones curling together like smoke, saturating every breath, every heartbeat.

You could feel his pulse through every point of contact, every thrust, every movement, every time his cock reaches something inside you, even other Alphas couldn’t — the tremor in his hands, the warmth radiating from his skin, the way his body moved against yours with barely contained restraint. His scent, deep and heady, clung to your senses until you could taste it.

Your own pheromones responded, blooming like wildfire. You tried to speak, to say something that wasn’t a gasp, but the words dissolved before they reached your lips. Mingyu’s voice was low, almost reverent. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, grounding you both even as the action between you blurred the line between pleasure and instinct. “Fuck, if this is what sex feels like- I’ll gladly make love with you everyday.” Every shift of his body drew another sound from you — loud, helpless, caught between surrender and need.

The world beyond the suite vanished. There was only the rise and fall of breath, the press of skin, the steady hum of connection in between your legs growing heavier and heavier until it was almost unbearable.

“Y/N, moan my name louder” his voice cracked, being consumed by his rut slowly. You looked up at him through the haze, eyes glassy. “I can’t- Mingyu! It’s too much. Ahh- shit!” You screamed echoing in the suite, your nails scratching his back, your legs wrapping his hips, while his hand remained on your neck and hair.

The Alpha in him took over, movements guided more by instinct than thought, his scent darkening, his body trembling with the effort to stay gentle. He’s not gentle at all and I like it.

He kissed you again — deeper this time, desperate, and a lot of saliva, but still with care. Every movement felt like a promise: steady, patient, reverent even as the air burned hotter between you and his thrust in your cunt.

When he pulled back slightly, his breath trembled as his cock twitched. “You’re mine,” he whispered, not as a command, but as a truth he couldn’t keep buried anymore. “I’m coming.” You barely said, feeling totally weak, like you lost your capability to speak anymore.

“Then come.. wet my cock, love. Make it all sticky, you’re doing God’s work by making it easy for me to pound on you.” He said while smirking, his eyes are lost and deep. As if he’s not the typical Kim Mingyu who holds you, this is Kim Mingyu, an S-class Alpha who shows possession and territorises his own Omega.

“AH!” You screamed, your voice hitting a pitch you’d never reached before, straining your throat and voice box. The sensation burned sharply inside you, a deep, piercing sting. That’s when you realised what Mingyu had done — he had stopped moving, leaving himself deep inside you, twitching and swelling. “Mingyu! It hurts!”

But Mingyu was long gone. You couldn’t even make out his eyes, and his scent alone was enough to make you ache, wetting yourself without any further motion, his cock completely claiming and ruining you.

“Did you just-” you barely managed to say, completely overwhelmed by pain. Mingyu leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, as if every part of you existed solely for him to satisfy his hunger. You are solely a hole for him to push through his dirty desires.

The pain between your legs intensified, and his cock grew even harder. “KIM MINGYU!” you cried, tears falling not from pleasure, but from the sharp sting that finally pulled him back to his senses. His eyes softened, and he loosened his grip on your hair, gently wiping away your tears. “Fuck! Love.. shh, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry shit!”

You continued to cry, lightly slapping his chest, but your strength failed against the pain. He cupped your face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry… you feel so good, I got carried away. I’m sorry I- I knot you,” he said, trying desperately to calm you, to ease the pain.

“Take it out!” you screamed. “I can’t, love- shhh, it’s okay. The pain will go away, ok?” he murmured, holding you steady. Giving you featherlike kisses to distract you.

You continued to cry, and it scared him, but what could he do? When an alpha knots an omega, there’s nothing to be done — neither can pull away until both muscles loosen, until blood moves freely and both alpha and omega have finished. That’s why Mingyu did what he thought would help distract you.

He kissed you. Hard.

Whispering words meant to reassure you, to make you feel better — soft murmurs of “I’m sorry” and “I love you” spilling from his lips. His words stirred something deep inside, reigniting your desire and lust, and you moaned in pleasure again, tears still glistening in your eyes, that only adds up into Mingyu losing control again, but remember your cries awhile ago, he controlled it.

“You look better,” Mingyu chuckled. “Fuck you,” you snapped, making him laugh. Slowly, he started to move again, and you jolted in surprise — realising the pain hadn’t completely left yet.

And when he finally leaned in, burying his face against your neck, his teeth grazed your skin in a way that made your entire body go still. His lips brushed over the sensitive spot once, twice — asking silently. You met his eyes, nodding once.

The bite came soft, deep, and claiming — an anchor that tethered you to him, sealing the space between Alpha and Omega, between choice and instinct. You gasped at the sharpness, then melted at the warmth that followed — his lips soothing the mark, whispering your name like it was something sacred.

It wasn’t just pheromones anymore. It was trust. It was bond. It was the quiet truth that no test or percentage could measure.

And when he finally pulled you close, coming at the same time, holding you until your breaths synced again, you felt it — the unshakable certainty that you’d found the person your instincts had been calling for all along.

—

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the sound of your breathing slowly falling back into rhythm. Mingyu had already cleaned you both up, moving with surprising gentleness for someone who’d just looked like he’d lost himself to instinct. Now, the two of you were tangled in the sheets, bare skin against bare skin, his arm slung loosely around your waist and his thumb lazily tracing circles against your hip.

You shifted, your head resting against his chest where his heartbeat thudded steadily under your palm. “You’re warm,” you murmured, voice still hoarse.

Mingyu huffed a soft laugh into your hair. “You’re the one burning up. Your pheromones still haven’t calmed down yet, I can smell you.”

“I can smell yours too,” you admitted, wrinkling your nose. “It changed.. you smell more sweeter, instead of sandalwood, it smells more like musky, hot, honeyed sugar.. and mint?” He chuckled, his fingers sliding up to stroke the back of your neck. “That’s the bond. Once the bite sets, our scents mix differently. You already smell different too”

You raised your head, facing him, which made him surprised a little, worried. “What’s wrong?” He asked, caressing your shoulders. “My smell changed?” He only nodded, “What does it smell? What if you hate how I smell now?” Panic arose that made Mingyu tilt his head, he pressed a soft kiss in your mouth.

“You’re officially mine now. Your smell..” he stopped mid-sentence, acting as if he’s inhaling your scent, “strawberry, with a hint of clover still and salt.. will always be addictively good”

You tilted your head to look up at him, eyebrows raised. “That’s how you’re gonna say it? ‘Officially mine’? You sound like you just adopted a cat.” “I basically did.” His grin widened, dimples showing. “Except this one scratches harder.”

You groaned, smacking his chest weakly. “Kim Mingyu.” “What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying — you’re my omega now, and I’m your alpha. It’s not just lust. It’s us.” His expression softened as his fingers tilted your chin up. “I know it sounds possessive, but the bond doesn’t mean I get to own you. It means I get to protect you. Choose you. Every time.”

The words settled over you like a blanket, warmer than the sheets. You swallowed. “And after all this? After the program ends? What happens to us?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb still stroking your skin. “That’s what I wanted to talk about,” he said finally, voice low. “When the program’s over, we’re free again. No handlers, no schedules, no tests, no sensor lines — which is my favourite. We can leave the island. We can choose what we want to do next. Together.”

“Together..” you echoed softly.

“If you want.” His eyes searched yours, serious now. “I don’t want this to be just a heat-season thing for you. The bond doesn’t vanish after the program ends. It stays. It’s permanent. But you still get to choose if you want me there when it’s all over.”

You stared at him, something tight curling in your chest. “You’re asking if I want you after the island?” “I’m asking if you want us,” he corrected gently. “Outside of this, outside of the pods. Just you and me. Normal life.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke. The sheets shifted as you moved, turning onto your stomach so you could prop your chin on his chest. “You’re so dramatic for someone who just tried to eat me alive,” you said, the teasing edge in your voice breaking the tension.

Mingyu snorted, eyes crinkling. “I was not trying to eat you alive. I was passionate.” “You were insane,” you shot back, but your lips twitched. “And you liked it,” he said, grinning down at you. You bit back a laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

“No, say it.” His grin softened, eyes glinting. “Say you liked it.” You buried your face against his chest with a muffled groan. “I hate you-” He laughed, the sound low and warm, his arm tightening around you. “but I do like it.” You continued that made his jaw dropped a little, making you laugh loudly and him pouting.

He looks like a puppy.

You looked up at him again, containing your laughter, catching the shift in his gaze — the way the teasing flickered into something earnest. “So- after the program,” you said slowly. “You’re serious. You’d want to keep this?” “Yeah,” he said simply. “More than anything.”

The weight of it settled between you, but instead of feeling heavy, it felt steady. Real. Like the air after a storm. You exhaled, fingers tracing idle shapes against his chest. “I don’t know what’s waiting outside. But I know I want you”

He smiled then — not the cocky smirk, but the quiet one you’d only seen glimpses of. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. “That’s everything for me, my intern” he murmured. “And you’re my everything, my Alpha”

For a while, you just lay there, tangled together, breathing in each other’s scents as they finally began to calm, no longer sharp and wild but warm and familiar. His thumb brushed slow lines along your arm; your leg hooked over his. You felt safe, in a way that surprised you.

He chuckled, eyes half-lidded. “You smell so good, my rut is coming back..”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. You are.” He kissed you and went on top of you once more. And in the private suite, it felt like, for the first time, the program wasn’t running you. You were just two people, bonded by choice, planning something that wasn’t in any script in The Mating Season Program.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ and that’s a wrappp!! i hope you enjoyed my very first omegaverse story. personally, i’m in love with this plot, though i’m not sure if i wrote it exactly like it played in my head hahaha. feel free to comment or reblog your reactions, i’d absolutely love to hear them. and of course, i’ll leave you with this scene to end things: 😋

The air smelled like salt and flowers. Not rule-tablets, not sterile cleaners — just the sea breeze coming off the coast and the scent of white peonies tucked into the chairs lining the aisle. You stood at the edge of the small garden by the water, fingers tangled with a bouquet.

It was a simple ceremony. No handlers, no scientists, no data clips. Just a handful of friends from the outside world, a few family members who’d chosen to show up, and a quiet officiant. No cameras except the ones held by people you trust.

Mingyu was waiting at the end of the aisle in a soft beige suit, his hair swept back by the wind. There was no badge on his wrist now — just a thin band of gold around his ring finger.

When you reached him, he took your hands without hesitation, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had that same softness you’d seen the night he asked you what you wanted after the program ended. “You look like a dream,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear. “You’re not allowed to make me cry before the vows,” you whispered back, trying to smile through the blur in your eyes. He grinned — the real one “Too late.”

The officiant’s words blurred around you: about promises, about choosing each other beyond instinct, about building something ordinary and extraordinary all at once. When it was time, you slipped the band onto his finger, and he did the same to you.

“I chose you then,” Mingyu said softly, eyes locked on yours. “I choose you now. I’ll keep choosing you.” The applause came when you kissed, but for a moment it was just him — his hands on your waist, your arms around his shoulders, the two of you standing on grass instead of sterile floors. The ocean hissed against the shore like a quiet blessing.

You leaned into him, the wedding ring catching the sun. For the first time since the program, there was no staff, no countdown, no end date. Just a beginning.

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380

Feel free to let me know if you want to be in my taglist, please do dictate if you want to be included on the permanent taglist or Kinktober taglist only.

PLEASE make sure your age is on your bio, MDNI

[yethoughts]

ENJOYED THIS AND THE EXTRA BIT AT THE END AHHH I LOVE

[nightshao]

wahhhh finally someone talked about the end, it’s actually my favourite part hahaha thank you so much!!

[nightshao]

We need a gyucheol threesome 😩🙏🏼😩🙏🏼🙏🏼,in yacht ,I don't care whether it morning or night , nobody is around,just the three of u having sex everywhere,plsssss

𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒖𝒕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Choi Seungcheol x f! reader x Kim Mingyu

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ The music video was all lights, laughter, and lenses. When the cameras stopped rolling, the tension didn’t. Between champagne, ocean breeze, and too many glances that lasted too long, S.Coups and Mingyu realised they wanted the same thing. The director called it chemistry. You called it trouble. But trouble followed you all the way to the yacht that night.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Idol AU, Dancer! Reader, Friends to Lovers, Workmates, Love triangle, Forced Proximity, Porn w/ little to NO plot, Behind-The-Scenes Settings

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 9.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, marking/hickies, rough sex, public place setting, power dynamics, mild dominance, degrading kink, praise kink, slight body worship, slight jealousy, threesome, anal sex, double penetration, mild exhibitionist undertones, mentions of alcohol and party, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, thigh gripping, neck kissing, biting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, wet sex (literally..)

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ This one took me longer than I expected to finish 😭 I went out of town, and honestly wrote some parts of this in public — which was both risky and hilarious hahaha. anywayyy, I hope you enjoy reading it! I’ll be working on my kinktober pieces again before moving on to other requests. STREAM CxM luvs ;)

🎧: 5, 4, 3 Pretty Woman by CxM ⋮ Butterflies by Denise Julia

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The bass was already thumping before the cameras even started rolling. Neon lights pulsed in time with the music, bathing the set in flashes of electric pink and gold. It was chaos disguised as art — a blur of stylists shouting over the beat, camera operators weaving through bodies, and extras finding their marks under the strobe haze.

You stood near the bar, watching the crew scramble to set up the first shot. The club smelled faintly of smoke and expensive perfume, the kind that clings to your skin long after the night ends. The director was pacing, headset in hand, muttering about continuity and lighting angles. And beside him — leaning casually against the counter like he had all the time in the world — was Choi Seungcheol.

He wasn’t supposed to look this good off-camera. white sleeveless top, likely a tank top or muscle tee, a chain glinting against his throat. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you — and stayed there. He smiled, slow and deliberate, like he already knew you’d be fun to work with for their music video.

“Dancer?” His voice cut through the music, low and smooth. You nodded, trying to keep it professional. “Yeah. Just waiting for direction.” He hummed, gaze flicking to the stage being prepped. “You’ll do fine. Just have fun with it. Cameras love that.”

There was a warmth in his tone that made it sound more like a promise than advice. The director clapped his hands, calling everyone to positions, and Seungcheol pushed off the counter to take his mark. But before he left, he leaned closer — close enough that you could smell his perfume, something woody and intoxicating.

“Try not to outshine us,” he teased, eyes glinting. “I know you can anytime.” You almost replied, but the music kicked in, lights flaring as the director yelled, “Action!”

Suddenly, everything was movement — hips swaying, lights spinning, cameras gliding past the dance floor. The rhythm took over, and soon you forgot where the script ended and instinct began. Somewhere between the beats, you caught Seungcheol’s eyes again. He was watching you, even when he wasn’t supposed to.

The camera cut. The music stopped. And Seungcheol smiled like the scene had gone exactly the way he wanted. That’s a good first scene to be honest.

The club lights dimmed as the crew reset the cameras. You stepped off the floor, skin still buzzing from the adrenaline, heart pounding in rhythm with the bass that hadn’t quite died down. A staff member handed you a bottle of water, and you murmured a quick thanks, taking a long sip before scanning the room again.

Seungcheol was still there — leaning against the bar like he owned it, grin still infuriatingly confident. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine, not a sweat-drenched rehearsal. “Not bad,” he said as you approached. “Didn’t even look nervous.”

You shrugged, pretending the heat in your chest was from dancing. “Maybe I just take directions well.” He chuckled, low and rough, before leaning closer. “Or maybe you just know how to steal focus.”

Before you could come up with a reply, a new voice broke in — deep, playful, and instantly familiar to anyone who’d ever heard a Seventeen song. Fortunately I do.. “Hyung, if you’re done flirting with the extras, we’ve got a scene to film.”

You turned. Kim Mingyu stood a few feet away, hair styled to messy perfection, wearing a light blue button-up shirt, casually styled with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark framed glasses, that looked too good to be part of a casual concept. He was grinning — that easy, sunshine smile that disarmed anyone it hit. Seungcheol scoffed. “Flirting? I was giving notes.”

“Sure,” Mingyu said, stepping closer, his gaze flicking toward you. “You give notes to everyone who dances better than you?” You bit back a laugh, hiding it behind your water bottle. “Be careful, Gyu,” Seungcheol drawled. “You’re next.” “Good.” Mingyu’s grin widened, boyish but sharp. “Maybe I’ll have better chemistry with my partner.”

You didn’t miss the way Seungcheol’s jaw tensed slightly — subtle, but there. He turned to you, still smiling, though now it looked a bit tighter. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s only charming when he’s nervous.” “Then he must be nervous all the time,” you replied, and Mingyu’s laugh filled the room.

Before Seungcheol could answer, the director called out, “Mingyu, on set! Let’s prep the next scene, the street sequence!” Mingyu gave a playful salute and turned to you one last time. “Guess that’s me. Try not to miss me too much.” “Yeah, I’ll try my best,” you said dryly, and Seungcheol snorted.

As Mingyu disappeared through the crowd, Seungcheol leaned a little closer, voice dropping. “You’re in for a long shoot if you keep answering him like that.” You raised a brow. “Why? Think he’ll get attached?”

He grinned. “No. I think I might.”

You didn’t have time to respond — the director’s call for the next setup echoed across the room. But even as Seungcheol walked off to join the others, your pulse refused to calm down.

—

The air outside smelled faintly of asphalt and ocean breeze, the hum of the city wrapping around the film set like a lazy background score. From where you stood, the crew moved in fast, well-rehearsed rhythms.

You were supposed to be resting between takes. Instead, you were watching Mingyu’s scene from behind the monitors.

He was standing in the middle of the street, the California sun glinting off his hair as a girl would pull him to the sides, continuously repeating the shot. The director shouted “Cut!” and the crew applauded as Mingyu broke into a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good take!” someone called. “Too good,” Seungcheol muttered beside you. You hadn’t realised he was standing there until you felt the brush of his arm when he crossed them. His tone was casual, but his eyes were locked on the monitor like he wanted to burn a hole through it.

You tried not to smile. “Jealous, Seungcheol?” He smirked without looking at you. “Just saying. Some people get all the easy scenes.” You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “And some people just have to wait their turn.”

That made him glance at you finally — that sharp, unreadable look that always made you feel like he was not the S.Coups that everybody loves and thirst for. Before you could look away, a familiar deep voice called, “Noona!”

You turned to find Mingyu jogging over, a towel slung around his neck, cheeks flushed from the sun and exertion. He flashed you that grin — bright, effortless, magnetic. “You saw that, right? Think I pulled it off?” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re asking for compliments now?”

“Not from anyone. From you,” he said, tone light but with a flicker of sincerity behind it. “Cocky,” you teased. He shrugged, grin widening. “Confident.”

Seungcheol cleared his throat, the sound low but pointed. “You’re dripping sweat on her shoes, Gyu.” Mingyu looked down — a bead of sweat had, in fact, landed dangerously close to your ankle. “Oh, my bad,” he said with a laugh, reaching for the towel. Without thinking, he bent slightly, pretending to wipe it. “There. All clean.”

You burst out laughing, swatting at his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.” “Yeah, but I made you laugh,” Mingyu said, standing back up — and he didn’t move away right away. His height and warmth crowded your space, the smell of sun and sweat mixing with his perfume.

For a second, you forgot how to breathe. Seungcheol’s voice broke the moment. “Break’s over, Gyu. Director wants you to prep for the next shot tomorrow.”

Mingyu sighed dramatically. “Yes, hyung.” But before he left, his gaze met yours again, softer this time. “See you tom, noona.” When he walked away, you felt Seungcheol’s stare still lingering — steady, unreadable.

“You attract chaos,” he murmured finally. You smiled, not looking at him. “Funny. I was about to say the same about you two.”

Los Angeles looked like a postcard that day — blue sky stretched wide, waves catching sunlight like shattered glass, and wind that kept messing up everyone’s hair right before “Action” was called.

The beach was alive with color — umbrellas, cameras, dancers, props. Music blared through the speakers as crew members adjusted angles for the wide shots. You were standing with your feet buried in the sand, waiting for your cue. The stylist fixed a loose strand behind your ear, then gave you a thumbs-up before walking off.

“Okay, scene 4! Chorus!” the director yelled. Mingyu was already on set, fitted white tank top, layered under a black blazer-style jacket, grin bright as he waved you over. Seungcheol was beside him, wearing a black oversized blazer layered over a graphic black shirt, lounging on a beach chair like the sun itself worked for him.

You approached — trying to look natural. “Finally,” Mingyu said, brushing imaginary sand off your shoulder. “Was starting to think you were avoiding me.” “Maybe I was.” He chuckled, eyes glinting. “Then I must be doing something right.”

“Positions, everyone!” the choreographer shouted. The music started — upbeat, sultry, the kind that made movement feel like flirting. The cameras rolled as you swayed to the rhythm, Mingyu joining you easily, matching your every turn and twirl. His hand slid down to your waist in perfect sync with the beat.

On cue, Seungcheol joined from behind, the camera catching the three of you moving together with the other dancers — a triangle of motion and heat. To anyone watching, it was just choreography. But you could feel it. The way Seungcheol’s hand lingered a beat longer than it needed to, the way Mingyu’s laugh came out breathless, the way both of them seemed to orbit closer and closer.

The director yelled, “Cut! Beautiful. Keep that energy for the next take.” Everyone clapped. The music faded, but your pulse didn’t. You stepped aside for a sip of water, trying to cool down, but Seungcheol was already walking over — towel around his neck, grin lazy and dangerous. “You’re stealing the spotlight,” he said.

You smirked. “Then stop giving it to me.” He leaned closer, voice a low murmur. “Not sure I want to.”

Before you could answer, Mingyu appeared again, sliding between the two of you like sunlight breaking tension. “Director said five-minute break,” he announced cheerfully — but his eyes flicked between you and Seungcheol like he’d felt that invisible pull too.

“Good,” Seungcheol said smoothly. “You need to cool off. You look like you’re overheating.” Mingyu laughed under his breath. “Says the one who’s been staring at her like a camera lens.” You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol tilted his head, pretending to think. “Means he’s projecting.”

Mingyu grinned, but there was something sharper in it now. “Maybe I am. But at least I don’t hide it.” You glanced between the two of them — Seungcheol calm, composed; Mingyu bold, teasing — and for the first time, you realised the tension wasn’t just playful. It was personal.

“Alright, CxM, reset positions!” the director called. Mingyu winked at you before jogging off. Seungcheol stayed a moment longer, close enough that his voice came out soft, just for you. “Be careful,” he murmured. “He likes to play.” You smiled faintly. “Maybe I do too.”

This is going to be a long shoot.

—

By the last day, everyone had gotten used to the chaos. The set didn’t feel like a workplace anymore — it felt like a weird, sandy, sunburned family reunion that refused to end.

Cameras, props, laughter — everything blurred together in the warm California heat. The last scene was simple: the pool party sequence. Just music, water, smiles, and a golden hour glow that made everything look like magic. “Alright, last take! Give me energy! I want it to feel real!” the director shouted through his megaphone.

You were sitting on the pool’s edge, feet in the water, hair a little damp from all the retakes. Mingyu was floating nearby, grinning as he splashed a little water in your direction. “Don’t you dare-”

Too late. A wave hit you square in the chest. You gasped, then retaliated, kicking water back at him until both of you were laughing like kids. “Cut!” the director yelled. “Let’s redo, dry our artist then let’s do it again.”

Seungcheol, lounging on a pool chair with his sunglasses low, chuckled as he watched the chaos. “You two look like you’re auditioning for a water commercial, that’s why they’ll change it” he teased. “Jealous you’re not part of it?” Mingyu shot back, slicking his wet hair back with one hand as his stylist started to fix his clothes.

Seungcheol smirked, getting up to join you both by the poolside. “Nah. I’m more of a slow-burn scene kind of guy.” “Meaning?” you asked, tilting your head. He leaned close enough for you to catch the faint scent of sunscreen and his perfume. “Meaning I don’t rush what looks good in time.”

Before you could react, Mingyu scoffed playfully. “He’s been talking in metaphors these past few weeks,” he said, rolling his eyes as he climbed out of the pool, water dripping down his neck. “Don’t let him fool you — he’s just mad I got to shoot with you more.”

You grinned. “You both sound jealous.” “Maybe we are,” Mingyu admitted easily. “Can you blame us?” Seungcheol hummed, pretending to think. “Not really.”

—

The director clapped his hands suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “That’s a wrap, everyone!” he shouted, voice echoing over the pool and the cheers that followed. “The music video for 5, 4, 3, Pretty Woman is officially done!”

Everyone broke into applause — staff members high-fiving, camera operators laughing, Lay Bankz herself jumping up and down in excitement like she’d just won an award. “Let’s gooo! We killed it.” she screamed, throwing her arms around the director, who looked mildly terrified but happy.

You, Mingyu, and Seungcheol exchanged tired but warm smiles. The adrenaline for days, the endless takes, the sunburns and late-night rehearsals — all of it hit at once. Mingyu stretched, groaning. “I swear, I’m bragging this to the members,” Seungcheol chuckled. “Go on, if you want to end up getting bullied”

“I’ll miss the people,” you added, glancing between the two of them. “Not the sand stuck everywhere.” “Yeah?” Seungcheol said, teasing. “Even us?” You smirked. “Especially you.” He laughed — the kind that made you smile even when you didn’t mean to. Mingyu bumped your shoulder lightly. “You’re gonna miss me more.”

Before the playful argument could go further, the director shouted again, waving his clipboard. “Alright, team! You all deserve it — we’re celebrating tonight! Yacht party, Marina del Rey! Be there by eight and bring clothes!”

Lay Bankz gasped dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. “A yacht party? Hell yes, I’m bringing my sparkly outfit.” “Of course you are,” Mingyu muttered, teasing her. The set buzzed with excitement again as people started packing up equipment and making plans. The sun had started to dip lower, painting everything in soft gold.

You turned to Seungcheol and Mingyu, who were now both standing beside you, one on each side — the familiar, dangerous triangle all over again. “So,” Mingyu said, his tone light but his eyes sharp, “you coming tonight?” You nodded, smiling. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he said, “Good. Wouldn’t be much of a celebration without you.” And just like that, the air changed again — playful, electric, and heavy with something you still refused to name.

Somewhere behind you, Lay Bankz shouted, “YACHT PARTY, BABY!” Everyone cheered. But between the three of you, the only thing louder than the crowd was the ongoing heat spreading your body in the space you shared with both Mingyu and Seungcheol.

The ocean was ink-black under the California night sky, moonlight spilling over the waves like melted silver. The yacht floated just beyond the harbour, music echoing faintly over the water. Someone had gone all-out for this — fairy lights tangled around the railings, glasses clinking, laughter spilling over the deck. The air smelled like salt, citrus, and expensive liquor.

Lay Bankz was, unsurprisingly, the loudest person on board. “Let’s get it started, people! We wrapped a whole damn MV!” she yelled into a champagne flute like it was a mic, drawing a round of cheers.

You laughed from where you were leaning against the railing, the cool metal pressing against your back. The wind tugged at your hair, your draped halter top and skirt clinging on your body, and your eyes drifted over the crowd — the director dancing badly, stylists taking selfies, a few of the backup dancers already tipsy.

And then you saw them.

Seungcheol and Mingyu had just arrived. Of course they did. Together.

Seungcheol was in a white sleeveless top, dark jacket draped loosely over his shoulders, a drink already in his hand. Mingyu looked effortlessly undone in a white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his tanned skin and the faint chain around his neck, his hair still damp from a shower.

You hated how they both looked — easy, confident, devastating. Mingyu noticed you first. His grin curved slowly and familiar as he started walking your way. “Was wondering when I’d see you alone,” he said, tilting his glass toward you before taking a sip.

You smirked. “You mean away from the cameras?” “Yeah,” he murmured, leaning a little closer, voice low enough for only you to hear. “But this feels better than any take we’ve done.” Before you could answer, Seungcheol’s voice joined in, smooth as ever.

“Flirting before drinks, Gyu? That’s new.” He was beside you now, taking the spot on your other side, hand resting casually on the railing — close enough that his fingers brushed yours. Mingyu scoffed. “Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thinking what?” Seungcheol’s lips curved slightly. “That you look even better when there’s no director shouting ‘action.’” You exhaled, pretending to laugh it off, but your chest felt too warm — like you were caught between two magnets and didn’t know which pull was stronger.

The three of you talked — easy, electrifying. About the shoot. About how Mingyu almost fell during the beach scene. About how Seungcheol tripped over a prop wire and pretended it didn’t happen. You laughed until your stomach hurt, and yet the undercurrent was there: every glance, every accidental touch, every silence that stretched a little too long.

As the night went on, people started dancing under the deck lights. You found yourself caught between Mingyu’s teasing smirk and Seungcheol’s lingering gaze — both of them getting closer and closer every time you moved.

At one point, you escaped to the quieter side of the yacht, where the music was a faint echo. The wind was softer there, the sound of the waves louder. You leaned on the railing again, watching the lights ripple across the water. A few minutes later, footsteps approached.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“You keep disappearing,” Seungcheol said quietly. His tone was gentler now — not the leader of Seventeen, not the idol, just him. You smiled faintly. “I like the quiet.” He stepped closer, the faint hum of the yacht vibrating beneath your feet. “Mingyu’s looking for you, you know.”

“Are you?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He smiled — small, knowing. “Maybe.” He joined you, holding a second glass, which he handed you. “For the star of the video,” he said softly. You took it, your fingers brushing his — his other hand rested on the railing behind you, caging you in without touching you.

For a moment, no one spoke. Just the wind, the hum of the engine, the soft sound of the sea brushing against the hull. You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of your glass. He was watching you. His shoulders were loose, hair slightly messy. You saw the tattoo on his back, the one that fans screamed for.

He looked at the stars, not knowing what to say. Your eyes dropped to his tattoo again. You took another sip, slower this time. The alcohol was warming your bloodstream, making your skin flush slightly. Seungcheol noticed — his gaze flicking between your lips and your neck where your pulse was visible.

“You know,” he said casually, leaning against the railing now, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His voice was low enough that only you could hear him over the distant music and waves. “I've done a million photo shoots, music videos, interviews..”

“Hmm.. what about it?” You said, waiting for him to continue. “Never had one go this.. enjoyable," he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he remembered the scenes from the shoot. His eyes flicked down to your body briefly before meeting yours again. “All those touches, that close proximity.. it gets to you after a while.”

“This is my first music video.. so I don’t know how to respond” You said slowly smirking, half saying the truth, half teasing him. “Right,” he chuckled softly, watching your body language. He saw how you handled being touched by strangers all day — dancers throwing you around. He bit back a laugh.

He opened his mouth to tease you further, but the words died on his lips as he noticed the way you were looking at him. Your eyes were challenging, almost daring. Seungcheol found himself wanting to kiss that sass right out of your mouth. But he stopped himself and you noticed that right away.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you snapped, your voice barely audible over the music and the sound of the sea. Seungcheol stared at you for a moment. He expected you to blush, to look away, not to demand a kiss like that. Fuck, he liked it anyways.

Before you could blink, Seungcheol grabbed your hand and started pulling you towards one of the private rooms on the yacht. His hand was warm and strong in yours. He didn't give you a chance to protest, opening the door and pushing you inside before following behind, locking it, and kissing you immediately, almost rushing.

The room was dimly lit, a king-sized bed taking up most of the space. Seungcheol turned to face you, his chest heaving slightly. He reached out and grabbed your face roughly, kissing you again without warning. His hands gripped your hair tightly as he pushed you backwards onto the bed.

The kiss was brutal and beautiful — his lips crashed against yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you firmly as his tongue demanded entry without asking permission. It was raw desire mixed with something deeper — a hunger born from days spent pretending they weren't attracted to each other on camera.

He broke the kiss briefly to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands roaming to grip your waist possessively. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his clothes. He pulled back to look at you, eyes dark with lust, laced with desire but also concern. “Are you sure?” He asked. You only responded with a yes, that sounded like a plea.

He leaned in to capture your mouth again in another searing kiss. His hands began to undress you slowly, carefully — untying your top, pulling down your skirt.

Your clothes ended up in a heap on the floor and he stepped back to look at you in just your underwear. His expression was pure hunger mixed with awe — as if he couldn't believe he was about to have sex with you after days of dancing around attraction on set. “Fuck,”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, running a hand reverently over your curves. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, his lips moving downwards. He unhooked your bra with expert ease and tossed it aside, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking hard.

You arched into his touch with a soft moan, your fingers digging into his hair. He switched to the other nipple, giving it equal attention while his hand snaked down to your underwear. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and slowly pulled them down, kissing along your hipbone as he did so.

Once your underwear was on the floor, he stood up briefly to shed his own clothes. You got a full view of his muscular body — the same one fans screamed for — and it took your breath away. He kissed you deeply one last time before breaking away and slowly kissing down your body.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide as he settled between your legs. He looked up at you with hungry eyes before diving in, his tongue immediately finding your clit and sucking gently but firmly. You gasped loudly.

“Mmm..” He hummed against your sensitive folds, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he ate you out eagerly, his tongue circling and sucking your clit with expert precision. “You taste so fucking good” He murmured between licks. “Ughh.. Seungcheol”

Your hips were bucking into his face desperately as he held your thighs down to keep you still. He added two fingers inside you suddenly, curling them upwards to hit that spot that made you see stars. You let out a loud moan, “Oh my god..” He growled against your pussy, “Shh”

He continued to eat you out relentlessly, his fingers pumping in and out of you while his tongue worked your clit. He looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

“I could eat you out all night,” he said between licks, his fingers curling deeper inside you. Your moans were getting louder and more desperate. He suddenly sucked hard on your clit while adding a third finger, stretching you open. You cried out, “Seungcheol!”

“Now would you look at this?”

Your jaws dropped when you heard Mingyu’s voice, your whole body freezing except for Seungcheol’s fingers still moving inside you. Seungcheol didn’t stop eating you out though — if anything, he seemed to double down on sucking your clit harder while Mingyu suddenly respawned in the door.

Your body convulsed as you came hard on Seungcheol’s face, your juices coating his tongue and fingers. He kept licking you through your orgasm until every last shudder left your body. Mingyu walked over slowly, already unbuckling his belt with a smirk.

Seungcheol looked up at Mingyu, his lips glistening with your juices. “You joining us?” he said, his voice low and husky. He spread your legs wider, giving Mingyu a better view of your cunt.

Mingyu chuckled darkly, his pants already pooled around his ankles revealing his hard cock. “Fuck yes I'm joining,” he said, stroking himself slowly while both he and Seungcheol stared at your sensitive, glistening folds.

“You two gonna keep staring or fuck me already?” You said breathlessly, your body still trembling from the intense orgasm Seungcheol gave you. Mingyu laughed and stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab your thigh while Seungcheol kept his fingers inside you.

Mingyu grinned and positioned himself between your legs, pushing Seungcheol’s hand aside to replace his fingers with his thick cock. He entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely while Seungcheol watched with hungry eyes. He started pounding into you immediately, his hands gripping your thighs tightly.

You gasped loudly as Mingyu began to fuck you, his powerful thrusts making your breasts bounce. Seungcheol didn't take his eyes off you; instead, he started kissing along your ankle gently while watching how stretched open your folds were around Mingyu's massive length.

“Damn,” Seungcheol murmured softly, watching Mingyu’s hips snap against yours, his dick disappearing and appearing inside you. Your moans filled the room as Mingyu hit that spot deep inside you with each thrust. He was unconsciously spreading your legs wider, allowing Seungcheol a better view. “You like this?” He asked suddenly.

“Mm-hmm,” You moaned, wrapping your legs around Mingyu’s waist to pull him deeper. “He hits that spot so good..” You arched your back, pushing your breasts out. Seungcheol watched your body move under Mingyu’s rough thrusts, his pants tightening as he got harder watching you get railed by his friend.

Seungcheol couldn’t take his eyes off you anymore. He leaned forward suddenly, pressing his lips against yours in a deep kiss while Mingyu continued to pound into you. Seungcheol swallowed your moans as Mingyu’s thrusts became even more intense, hitting that spot over and over.

Mingyu’s breathing became ragged as he picked up the pace, his cock slamming into you with wet, loud sounds. Seungcheol broke the kiss and moved his lips to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin.

“Fucker.. Ugh- god” Mingyu felt you clench around him as you came again, your second orgasm of the night making his cock throb. He pulls out suddenly and comes to the bed, making you whimper at the loss. He turned to Seungcheol with a mischievous grin, rubbing his wet cock against Seungcheol’s thigh.

“Are you ready for your turn, hyung?” He asked, teasingly. Seungcheol rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the flush on his cheeks. “Fuck off,”

Mingyu laughed and finally moved out of the way, letting Seungcheol position himself between your legs. Seungcheol’s eyes were dark with desire as he looked down at your wet, rosy cunt. He grabbed his cock and slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open once again.

His is definitely thicker than Gyu’s but Gyu’s longer.

Seungcheol started moving slowly, his deep thrusts making wet slapping sounds. He leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth while Mingyu watched from behind you. Seungcheol whispered dirty words in your ear when he let go — “You feel too good..”

Then suddenly you felt Mingyu’s hands on your breasts from behind, squeezing them together while Seungcheol fucked you. “She’s gripping your cock so tightly,”

Seungcheol grunted in response, his hips moving faster. “Shit,” he muttered, feeling your walls clench around him. Mingyu leaned down to whisper in your ear, “What? You like his dick more than mine..?”

Seungcheol paused mid-thrust, his annoyance clear on his face. “Shut up” he hissed at Mingyu, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Mingyu just chuckled and continued whispering nonsense in your ear, intentionally provoking Mingyu to stop, you responded. “Maybe I do,”

He resumed thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Mingyu pouted slightly, deciding to stop the banter and instead focused on massaging your breasts gently, making you moan softly.

As Seungcheol continued to thrust inside you, his movements were slow and deep, hitting your g-spot perfectly with each stroke. His grip on your hips was firm but gentle, pulling you onto his length as he buried himself completely before slowly withdrawing. Mingyu's pace was faster, shorter thrusts.

“Ahh- you’re stretching me!” “Mmph,” Seungcheol groaned, his hips pressing against your ass as he held himself deep inside you. His thick, long dick was completely buried, stretching your folds wide open. Mingyu watched from behind.

Seungcheol closed his eyes briefly, relishing the feeling of your tight warmth enveloping his entire length. Each slow thrust was like heaven, your inner walls hugging his cock perfectly. He could feel every ridge and wrinkle inside you, the head of his dick kissing your cervix with every deep push.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, his large hand covering your entire stomach as he pulled you back onto his cock. He loved the way your body responded to his slow fucking, your pussy dripping wet and clenching around him like a vice.

Seungcheol suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your knees, making you gasp. Before you could catch your breath, Mingyu was in front of you, his hard cock right in front of your face. He grabbed your hair gently, guiding his length towards your mouth. “Open up,”

Seungcheol then watched with heavy lidded eyes as Mingyu pushed his dick past your lips. As soon as Mingyu’s hips touched your face, Seungcheol aligned himself behind you and thrust back in, filling your folds again. Now both of their cocks were inside you at the same time, stretching you in two different holes.

Mingyu slowly fucked your mouth while Seungcheol pounded your cunt from behind. You could feel their lengths rubbing against each other through your thin wall, creating an intense sensation. Seungcheol reached around to pinch your clit while Mingyu hit the back of your throat.

Your inner walls pulsating as you could feel another orgasm coming. “Where, darling?” The endearment made you come immediately as you’re able to scream inside. He groaned loudly, his own orgasm ripping through him as he filled your insides with his hot cum.

He held himself there, grinding against your g-spot to prolong both of your orgasms. Following a little more, Mingyu came in your mouth again as the vibration of your screams sent shivers for him.

You passed out between them, completely spent from the intense double penetration. Seungcheol and Mingyu looked at each other over your unconscious form, their chests heaving with satisfaction. Mingyu wiped his dick clean and pulled out of your mouth, adjusting his pants.

“Did you see how many times she came?” Mingyu whispered with a smirk, gesturing to your limp body sandwiched between them. Seungcheol laughed softly, careful not to disturb you. “Of course, I brought her here, young fella”

“She took both of us like a champ, to be honest.” Mingyu said. Seungcheol gently moved your legs together, closing your thighs to keep his cum inside you. He arranged your body so you were comfortable, your head resting on a pillow. “Gimme that towel,” he whispered to Mingyu, who handed him a soft washcloth.

He carefully wiped between your legs, cleaning the cum leaking out of your folds. Mingyu watched with a satisfied smile, knowing his best friend was taking care of you like a precious doll.

The room was quiet now, save for the low hum of the yacht’s engine and the muffled music still playing somewhere above deck. The air smelled faintly of salt and champagne, mixed with something heavier — warmth, skin, and exhaustion.

You were half-asleep, body still trembling in the afterglow, as Seungcheol pulled the blanket over you. His touch was unhurried, tender. Almost domestic. He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, thumb tracing your temple like he was memorising you.

Mingyu stretched beside you, his arm lazily thrown over his eyes. “Think the director would still call that chemistry?” he murmured, voice rough with laughter and something else — awe, maybe. Seungcheol snorted softly. “Pretty sure that was beyond chemistry.”

You let out a weak laugh, voice hoarse. “You two talk too much.” “Because you can’t,” Mingyu teased, his hand reaching to gently squeeze your arm. The gesture was light, but grounding — a wordless you okay?

You nodded faintly, eyes fluttering open to look at him, then at Seungcheol. Both of them were already watching you. For a second, no one said anything. Just three people caught in a fragile kind of silence — one that wasn’t awkward, just.. full.

Seungcheol finally broke it, his tone quieter than before. “You should rest. We’ve got a flight tomorrow night.” “Back to Seoul,” Mingyu added, his voice softening. “Back to pretending we don’t know what just happened.”

That earned a faint smile from you. “Can you?” Mingyu met your gaze, expression unreadable for a moment — then he smiled, slow and crooked. “Probably not.”

Seungcheol exhaled a quiet laugh, the kind that reached his eyes. “Guess we’ll figure that out when the cameras roll again.” He leaned down to press a light kiss to your shoulder, not lustful — just a quiet, human gesture of something unspoken. Mingyu’s hand brushed against yours, fingers loosely intertwining.

And for the first time that night, it wasn’t about want. It was about something dangerously close to care. Outside, the yacht rocked gently under the moonlight, carrying three people who knew that whatever happened after the cut was real now.

Early morning sun streams through the yacht’s windows, illuminating the scene as Mingyu stands beside you, his fingers expertly playing between your thighs. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen, giving Mingyu this private moment with you. “Spread your legs wider, baby,”

“Mhmm. Uh- god.. fucking hell..” You obediently spread your legs wider, trying to muffle your moans avoiding people to hear you, your hands gripping the edge of the yacht as he began to finger-fuck you.

You were on the edge of the deck of the luxurious yacht, the gentle rocking of the boat amplifying the sensations of Mingyu’s fingers inside you. The early morning air was cool against your bare skin, but Mingyu’s warm touch between your legs sent heat coursing through your veins.

Earlier that morning, Seungcheol had quietly slipped out of the bedroom to attend to some calls of the other members, leaving the two of you alone. Mingyu had woken up with a raging hard-on and found you sleeping peacefully, your legs slightly parted, revealing your pink folds. Yet he didn’t want to do anything while you’re asleep, so he waited for you to go outside.

Mingyu hooked his fingers upward, stroking your spot deliberately while his thumb circled your clit. Your moans were getting louder despite your attempts to muffle them against your arm. The boat’s gentle sway made his fingers slide in and out smoothly, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“So loud, huh?” Mingyu whispered, his fingers picking up speed as he continued to fuck you with three fingers. “You’re moaning like a slut without Seungcheol here to hear you. Does it feel good to be fucked by just my fingers instead of his big dick?”

I couldn’t respond.

Your moans grew louder despite your best efforts to stay quiet. Mingyu grinned wickedly, loving how you couldn’t control your pleasure without Seungcheol around to manage your volume. “God, I love how you fucking moan,” he whispered against your neck. “Such a shame, we can’t get caught.”

—

The sun was bright enough to make everyone squint as they gathered on deck for breakfast. The yacht swayed gently, laughter spilling from the staff as plates clinked and the remnants of the previous night’s celebration lingered in the air.

You tried to look normal — whatever normal meant after the chaos of last night and just that morning — hair damp from the quick shower you’d taken, face bare and glowing under the light. You were holding a cup of coffee when Seungcheol found you. He didn’t say a word at first, just slid a hand around your waist like it was second nature, thumb rubbing lazy circles against your hip.

“Sleep well?” he asked quietly, eyes still half-lidded from exhaustion. “Barely,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “You?” He hummed in response, leaning in just slightly, enough that his breath brushed your temple. “Could’ve been better.”

Before you could answer, Mingyu appeared — tall, smirking, sunglasses hiding whatever expression you were sure was smug. He greeted the staff cheerfully, all energy and charm, but when his eyes landed on you and Seungcheol, his grin widened just a touch too much.

“Good morning,” he said, dragging out the words as if they carried weight. “Rough morning?” You froze mid-sip, while Seungcheol’s hand on your waist settled. Mingyu’s smirk deepened; he knew exactly what he was doing. “Not really,” You replied smoothly..

Mingyu lifted his orange juice glass like a toast. “Glad to hear it. You seem very attracted to that edge of the deck” The staff around laughed at the casual banter, oblivious, but the glint in Mingyu’s eyes said otherwise. You shot him a glare that only made him chuckle harder.

A few minutes later, Lay Bankz called for everyone to take group photos. Mingyu sauntered over to the rail, calling, “Y/N, come here! Let’s take one!”

Before you could move, Seungcheol’s grip on your waist stopped you. “I’ll join,” he said, voice low but firm. He led you toward Mingyu, still calm, but you could feel the slight tension under his fingers — the kind that wasn’t meant to be seen, only felt.

You stood between them for the photo, their shoulders brushing yours on both sides. The photographer laughed, telling everyone to “look natural.” Easier said than done.

Mingyu leaned down slightly, whispering just loud enough for both of you to hear, “Don’t look so tense, hyung. You’ll ruin the picture.” Seungcheol smiled for the camera. “Don’t worry,” he murmured back, “I’ll handle her later.”

You blinked between them, sighing quietly. I’m tired already.

—

Seungcheol sets his coffee mug down on the kitchen of the yacht, his gaze sharpening as he notices your slightly flushed cheeks. Seungcheol pushed off the counter and walked over to you, tilting your chin up with his finger. “You're blushing. What did Mingyu do?” He asked directly, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

You bit your lip, trying to hide a small smile. “He fingered me on the deck,” you admitted. Seungcheol’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and amusement playing on his face. “And?” he prompted, wanting more details.

“And made me feel good..? I think that was it” You said, laughing a little already, as you sipped into your own coffee. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he stifled a laugh. “Of course he did,” shaking his head. Then his expression turned heated, his voice lowering. “Did you come on his fingers?” His hand slid down to grip your ass.

“Of course I did,” you answered honestly, your face turning an even deeper shade of red. Seungcheol’s grip on your ass tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. He pulled you flush against him, his hard length pressing into your stomach. “Good.. that means I raised him well.”

His mind is filled with images of Mingyu fingering you on the deck. He spun you around, pushing your upper body down onto the kitchen counter. Your robe hiked up, exposing your bare bottom to him. He smacked one cheek sharply. “Ass up,”

You arched your back, lifting your bottom higher. Seungcheol spread your cheeks apart, his eyes dropping to your cunt. He saw wetness already gathered there, knowing that Mingyu’s fingers had probably done a good job. He slapped your right cheek again, then your left, making you yelp.

Without further warning, Seungcheol grabbed your hips and slammed his hard length inside you in one rough thrust. You cried out loudly, your hands gripping the counter tightly as he began to fuck you aggressively, determined to outdo whatever pleasure Mingyu had given you earlier. “Shh.. unless you want everybody to watch how you’re being a whore”

His hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries as he continued to pound into you mercilessly. His other hand reached around to pinch and twist your nipples that is slowly tracing your robe, eliciting quiet whimpers from you. “Such a fucking slut,”

As you clenched your inner muscles around his thrusting cock, Seungcheol felt the squeeze and immediately understood. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered roughly, “You love being called a whore, don't you? Fucking clench on my dick like the dirty slut you are, darling.”

You whined softly, your face buried in your arms as Seungcheol continued his degrading insults. He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your bottom loudly. “Fucking bitch loves being treated like you’re just a hole to pleasure men. To pleasure us.”

“Aghh- Seungcheol..” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly so he could hit that sweet spot with each thrust. His other hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back. “Look at you, getting fucked raw on the kitchen counter while everyone’s outside.”

Seungcheol is getting close, his hips slapping against your ass violently as he uses you for his pleasure. He knew exactly what you liked now — being degraded while getting roughly fucked. He panted against your neck.

With a loud grunt, he slammed into you one last time, holding deep as he came hard inside you. Your body spasmed around him, drawing out his orgasm even longer as you cried out muffled into the counter. He continued thrusting through your orgasm, “FUCK! You feel so good, darling!” “Seungcheol- Oh my.. you’re so deep!”

Still buried inside you, he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he caught his breath. One hand remained tangled in your hair while the other rested on your stomach. “You liked that..? You want to carry my child or what?” He didn't give you time to respond, “Look at you..”

“Look at you, taking my dick like it's the only thing keeping you alive. Fucking pathetic. Can’t even stand up right now because your legs are shaking from being fucked so good.” He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking out of your cunt as he carried you and sat you on the counter he just bent you over.

He pulled you into a kiss. The heat that had burned both of you earlier had faded into something quieter. He brushed his thumb gently across your cheek, wiping a faint trace of tears. “Sorry,” he said softly, voice hoarse. You looked up, searching his face, and saw the smallest, most unguarded smile tug at his lips.

The hum of engines beneath the yacht mixed with the sound of laughter. You were sitting on the pool lounged chairs now, sunglasses hiding your sleepy eyes, a light towel draped over your shoulders. Seungcheol stood behind you, watching everyone in their swim wear already.

Mingyu is already in the pool, hair messy from the breeze, topless. He looked entirely too smug for someone who’d barely slept. Every now and then, his gaze flicked to you, and the corner of his mouth would lift — not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did.

Lay Bankz squealed from the poolside, already kicking water at the staff who were setting up speakers. “This is so fun,” she laughed, diving straight into the water, splashing everyone nearby. The energy shifted instantly — laughter echoing, people clinking glasses.

Seungcheol’s smirk even grew wider when Mingyu approached. “You joining?” Mingyu asked, his grin all teeth and trouble. “Maybe later,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Mingyu only hummed, eyes trailing over your damp hair and the hickey’s you’d failed to cover fully with makeup. “You should. The water’s warm,” he teased, meeting Seungcheol’s gaze, wiggling his eyebrows before turning away.

The leader didn’t respond, but only laughed at his best friend’s actions. That silly boy, he’s luring her in. Somewhere behind you, someone turned up CxM’s song again — bright, upbeat. The ocean glittered like glass under the sun, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world existed only on that yacht.

The music softened into something lazy and slow. Most of the crew were already in the water, splashing and laughing, drinks floating in little plastic trays. You hesitated at the chair, fingers clutching your towel covering your well fitted bikini, while the breeze danced across your skin.

In front, Seungcheol and Mingyu were already waist-deep in the clear blue water. They looked like they belonged there — two halves of the same frame. Seungcheol, with his hair slicked back, water running down his shoulders; Mingyu, grinning, sunlight cutting across his face like a highlight reel.

“Finally!” Mingyu called when you’re walking towards the pool, shading his eyes with one hand. “Thought you were gonna make us wait all day.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “I was waiting for the right moment.”

“This is the right moment,” Seungcheol said, his voice calm but low, that familiar weight in it that always made your chest tighten. He tilted his head slightly, gesturing for you to join them. “Come on.”

The towel slipped from your hands as you stepped to the ladder, the heat of the deck giving way to the shock of cool metal under your feet. You dipped a toe in first, hissing at the temperature. Mingyu laughed.

“It’s not even cold,” he teased. “You’re just dramatic.” “Then why don’t you come help her in?” Seungcheol said, and something about his tone made Mingyu pause — a playful challenge laced with something unspoken.

Mingyu didn’t back down. He waded closer, his hand reaching up toward you. “Here,” he said simply.

You took his hand, letting him steady you as you stepped into the water. The chill made you gasp, but the warmth of Mingyu’s palm anchored you. When you were finally submerged, Seungcheol was already beside you, his hand brushing your arm beneath the surface — brief but deliberate.

“You okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, blinking against the sunlight reflecting off the sea. Around you, the others were laughing, someone tossing a beach ball, another singing off-key to the music. But in that small circle of water, it felt like the world had narrowed again — just the three of you, pretending this was normal.

Mingyu swam behind you, voice low enough only you and Seungcheol could hear. “You look better in a bikini,” he murmured, and Seungcheol’s jaw ticked in quiet amusement. “Careful,” Seungcheol said, tone half-warning, half-smile. “She might believe you.”

You laughed, splashing both of them. “You two never stop, do you?” “Not when it comes to you,” Mingyu said before diving under, leaving a trail of bubbles between you and Seungcheol.

The leader’s eyes followed him briefly, then returned to you — steady, unreadable, but softer than before. “Let him have his fun,” he murmured. “For now.” You smiled, unsure if he meant the words as a joke or a promise.

—

You were just laughing with some crew members about a silly story Mingyu had told earlier when suddenly you felt familiar hands sliding around your waist under the water. Seungcheol pressed against your back, his hard length nudging against your bottom through your bikini.

Thank god people are starting to be distracted. Lay Bankz started to mix some drinks on the bar counter that slowly made the crew go a little away from the pool, leaving the three of them in their own space once again.

Mingyu was still laughing and chatting with the crew, oblivious to Seungcheol’s hands slowly inching down to grab your ass cheeks underwater. Seungcheol bit your earlobe softly then whispered, “Come to think of it, I want to experience water sex.” His fingers hooked in your bikini bottoms.

You hesitantly parted your legs, your back still pressed against Seungcheol’s chest as he slowly pulled your bikini bottoms down underwater. Mingyu was too distracted to notice as Seungcheol’s fingers instantly found their way between your thighs, his hand covering your mouth to muffle any sounds “Mhmm-mm”

His fingers slid through your smooth folds, then he pushed two inside you without warning, fully scissoring you. You gasped quietly, your eyes flicking to everyone, making sure no one is looking at the both of you.

“How come you’re still tight after getting thoroughly opened by two men?” He whispered in your ears, making all your body hair stand up, and not because of the pool water’s coldness.

“Mingyu,” Seungcheol called softly. Mingyu looked over, his eyes meeting his hyung’s. He saw your back pressed against Seungcheol’s chest, his hand hidden underwater. He faced him, looking like a puppy, completely confused. Seungcheol then added another finger, and let you moan near Mingyu’s face.

He understood immediately the situation. He walked to the pool edge, facing you, holding your waist, while you’re facing him, still has your back on Seungcheol’s chest.

Seungcheol added a fourth finger, pumping them in and out while Mingyu rubbed your clit with his fingers. You moaned quietly, the sound muffled by Seungcheol’s hand still but loud enough for Mingyu to hear. “There, there. You have both of us again..” Seungcheol whispered.

Mingyu leaned down, his ear right next to your mouth as Seungcheol increased the pace of his fingers, fucking you hard underwater. You let out a long, low moan right against Mingyu’s ear, making him shiver and harden instantly. “Heavens..” Mingyu muttered under his breath. “Keep going, hyung.”

The sensation of being fingered underwater was entirely different — the water created a unique pressure and friction that made every movement intensely pleasurable. Their fingers moved with skilled precision. Your legs trembled visibly underwater. The water is going inside.

Feeling your walls clench, Seungcheol curled them sharply, hitting that perfect spot as Mingyu pressed on your clit furiously. The water swirled around you as you came hard, accidentally biting hard on Mingyu’s shoulders. Mingyu groaned in pain and pleasure.

As soon as your orgasm subsided and Seungcheol removed his fingers, Mingyu didn’t waste any time. He grabbed your hips roughly underwater and pushed his cock into your sensitive folds without warning. The sudden action makes you arch your back, fully resting on Seungcheol’s front.

Mingyu started thrusting into you hard and fast underwater, you were completely focused on his cock when suddenly.. You felt a different intrusion. Seungcheol had moved behind you and was slowly pushing a finger into your tight anal hole, making you gasp. “Don’t be too loud, or else I’ll stop and make Gyu stop as well.”

You bite on your lips to avoid any sounds coming out of your mouth. Mingyu was long gone, he loves the feeling of having to be inside you underwater.

Seungcheol added a second finger to your back hole, scissoring them to stretch you out. You could feel the pressure building in both holes, the water amplifying every sensation. “It hurts, Cheol..” “Shh.. you’ll feel good anytime soon.” He whispered, slowly giving you feather kisses to distract you from the pain.

Seungcheol’s fingers in your ass and Mingyu’s cock in your cunt created an overwhelming fullness. The water pressure added a unique intensity to each thrust and movement.

Suddenly, Seungcheol replaced his fingers with the head of his dick pressing against your tight hole. He pushed past the initial resistance and lodged himself halfway into your small hole. “UGH! Stop- wait.. it hurts!”

Both of them stopped their actions as they saw how you really are in pain. Mingyu gave you a quick peck to soothe her, cautious of other people to see them. Seungcheol started shaping circles on her hips as he held her.

He was incredibly careful, knowing how tight and sensitive you were. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving your body time to adjust. “It’s okay darling, it’s okay..” He kissed your back gently, one hand supporting your stomach while the other held your hip.

As the pain slowly subsided and your body relaxed around both cocks, both men started moving in sync. Mingyu’s thrusts into your folds became more rhythmic and forceful while Seungcheol carefully pushed deeper into your ass.

The sensation was overwhelming and unlike anything you had ever experienced. Having two cocks inside you at the same time underwater created an intense pleasure that bordered on painful pleasure. Every thrust from Mingyu pushed Seungcheol deeper into your ass, and vice versa. Your holes were stretched wide, accommodating both their lengths simultaneously.

Both of them found their pace, your moans filled the water, muffled but audible. “Mmmph.. Nnn- Ahh Fuck!” Your hands gripped the sides of the pool as they pounded into you, the water splashing around you with each thrust.

Please don’t let the crew look our way.

Mingyu reached around to play with your clit while Seungcheol grabbed your hair gently, pulling your head back against his chest. The combination of being stretched in both holes and having your sensitive spot stimulated was too much. “I'm gonna come” you gasped out between moans. “Please..”

“Begging huh?” Hearing your plea, they quickened their pace. Mingyu’s fingers worked furiously while Seungcheol’s thrusts became deeper. Suddenly, you felt both cocks swell inside you, nearing to reach their high as well. “Cum with us..”

Your body suddenly tensed up, your cunt tightening around their cock as your orgasm hit. But it wasn’t just an ordinary orgasm — the intense stimulation caused your body to contract violently and release a powerful squirt of fluid into the water. “Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!”

As your body convulsed with pleasure, both men groaned deeply, their cocks pulsing as they released their hot loads inside you. Mingyu’s moans were deep and guttural, cupping your breast, inflicting pain. “Ungh..” Seungcheol’s moans were more like a whisper as he closed his eyes and let his face be buried on your neck.

The yacht drifted lazily as the sun began to set, painting the horizon in strokes of gold and soft pink. The once-loud music had quieted, the laughter now reduced to mellow chatter from the remaining crew lounging at the bar. The yacht party is about to end.

You stood by the railing, wrapped in a towel, the ocean breeze cooling your still-heated skin. The salt air felt grounding, a quiet contrast to everything that had just happened hours before — a blur of warmth, water, and too much honesty that didn’t need words.

Footsteps approached from behind. You didn’t turn; you already knew who it was. Seungcheol leaned on the railing beside you, silent for a while before he said softly, “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “Just thinking.” He hummed, his gaze following yours. “About what?” “About how weird this feels,” you said, letting out a breath that was half-laugh, half-exhale. “Everything started because of a music video. Cameras. Scripts. Pretending. Then suddenly-” You trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Then suddenly, it wasn’t acting anymore,” Seungcheol finished for you. You turned to look at him. He wasn’t smiling — not teasing, not trying to charm you like he usually did. Just honest, open, like the man beneath the stage lights. The leader.

Mingyu appeared a moment later, hair still damp from the pool, holding three bottles of water. “You two look like you’re filming another scene,” he teased, handing one to you. You chuckled, taking it. “Don’t start.”

He leaned on the other side of you, crowding your space the way only Mingyu could — effortlessly close, but not suffocating. “It’s funny,” he said, watching the sun sink lower. “The director said we had the best chemistry on set. Guess he was right.”

Seungcheol snorted, amused. “He has no idea how right.” Mingyu grinned. “Should we tell him how we fucked?” You rolled your eyes, unable to help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah, right. Let’s not get blacklisted from the industry.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in silence — the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward but comfortable, the kind that came only after something irreversible had already happened.

As the sky deepened into twilight, Seungcheol reached for your hand. Mingyu noticed, his lips twitching into a small smile. The boat rocked gently, waves catching the dying light. Whatever this was — confusing, complicated, impossible — it felt real. Maybe that was enough for now.

Seungcheol glanced at you, eyes soft. “You know what they say after the cut?” You raised a brow. “What?” He smiled faintly. “That’s when the real story begins.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar

[nightshao]

now i have an assignment: try to think of how this story will fold. i actually don’t know how to continue so this will probably take months or maybe not 🧍🏻‍♀️ hahaha

[nightshao]

hello hello lovely people, i’m resurrected from the dead lol anyways i’ll be interacting (and replying hdhxs) and ghost everyone again 😔 good news tho.. i’ll be visiting my home country again after how many years wahhh i’m so excited, happy valentines luvs~ ❤️

[k-fic-collection]

Gifts of Appreciation Event

For our one-year anniversary, we hosted an Author Appreciation event and decided that it went so well and we had the chance to share so much appreciation with many authors, that we’d repeat the event for Christmas 2025! 🎁

We know that the Christmas period can be a difficult time for many people for various reasons, so we hope that we can bring even a little bit of joy and love to authors, and show them how much we care and appreciate them. If you don’t celebrate Christmas, or aren’t sure if the author(s) you wish to appreciate do, that’s okay, you can think of this as just another appreciation event. It’s not necessary to celebrate Christmas to be involved.

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Run and created by Head Librarian Chee and Head Librarian JiJi. Updated: 24/10/2025.

[k-fic-collection]

As of today (18th December) there is only one week left to get your notes in!

Please don't hesitate any longer if you haven't done so already as the form will be closed in one week and will not be opened again.

Let's share the love and appreciation to as many k-pop fanfiction writers as possible this Christmas!

[supi-wupi]

Stretch, Hydrate, Fall in Love - Joshua

member/pairing: prodigy figure skater!joshua x physical therapist!reader synopsis: You’re his trainer. You’re supposed to keep his heart rate steady—not be the reason it spikes. wc: 4.4k genre: Fluff, Slow Burn Romance, Sports AU (Figure Skating), Trainer x Athlete, Mutual Pining, Contemporary, Slice of Life warnings: Mild Injury & Recovery (physical therapy context), Tension, Light Teasing, a/n: This work is apart of the 17s2s collab hosted by @ppyopulii and @callisrecords!

The first time you meet Joshua Hong, he’s twenty minutes late, mildly apologetic, and far too pretty to be your 9 a.m.

You’re midway through disinfecting the padded therapy table for the second time—mostly out of boredom—when the door opens. A gust of cold air rushes in with him, along with a messy tangle of scarf, soft hair, and the undeniable scent of mint chewing gum.

“Hi,” he says, breathless. “Sorry I’m late.”

You blink at him. “You were either late or avoiding me.”

He freezes mid-unwrapping his scarf. “That obvious?”

You gesture to the still-empty table. “You rescheduled twice.”

“And I showed up today!” he says, smiling like that counts.

You look at him—really look—and okay, maybe it does count a little. He's wearing a puffed-up parka that's clearly too big for his frame, gray sweatpants tucked into beat-up sneakers, and a hopeful expression that makes it very hard to stay annoyed.

You sigh and wave him in. “Take off your jacket. Let’s talk shoulder."

He frowns as he shrugs out of the coat. “It’s fine, mostly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re here because ‘fine’ isn’t enough for triple axels, Joshua.”

He mutters something about “being careful” and “light choreography only,” but it’s mostly drowned out by the creak of the table as he finally sits. His right shoulder rolls a little stiffly as he adjusts.

You pull your stool over and reach for your notes. “So. Tell me what happened.”

Joshua scratches the back of his neck. “It was during a lift. My partner slipped. I caught her. My shoulder… didn’t.”

You glance at his chart, then at him. “No major tear, but enough trauma to sideline you for a few weeks.”

“Which I didn’t take.”

You stare.

He shrugs—the wrong side, of course, and then winces.

“Do you want to destroy your career before the championships?” you ask, half-serious.

“Not particularly,” he says. “But I also don’t want to sit still for six weeks and knit scarves.”

“You knit?”

“Terribly.”

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Okay. You’re annoying. But we’ll fix you.”

Joshua grins, and for a second, it looks like he forgets about the dull throb in his shoulder completely. “Thank you.”

You clear your throat and grab the resistance bands from the cabinet. “Let’s start with basics. Then I’ll show you how to ice properly so I don’t have to yell at you next week.”

He salutes you with his good arm. “Coach’s orders.”

“I’m not your coach.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Therapist... coach... same energy.”

You toss a band at him. “Don’t test me, Hong.”

But you’re smiling—and so is he.

—

By the time you finish guiding him through his stretches and icing routine, the sun is already spilling lazy gold through the window blinds, and Joshua is pretending not to fall asleep under the cold pack on his shoulder.

You tap his knee lightly with your pen. “No napping on my table.”

He opens one eye. “Just… visualizing my recovery.”

You laugh, softer this time. “Do all elite athletes whine this much?”

He sits up carefully, grimacing as the cold pack slides off. “Only the charming ones.”

You roll your eyes and walk over to the counter to grab a small tube of medicated cream. “Use this tonight. Light massage around the joint, not on it. And ice for fifteen minutes, max. Max, Joshua.”

He takes it from your hand, fingers brushing yours for just a second. “You always this bossy?”

“Only with skaters who think they’re invincible.”

He hums and pockets the cream. “I guess I’m in trouble then.”

You smirk, already jotting down his next appointment. “Trouble shows up on time.”

He laughs as he shrugs his jacket on—slowly, with your sharp eyes tracking his every move. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. Sort of.”

Before he leaves, he pauses by the door, glancing back at you with that crooked, thoughtful smile of his. “Thanks for today. For not lecturing too hard.”

You lean against the counter. “Don’t thank me yet. You’re gonna hate me by week three.”

Joshua opens the door. The cold outside creeps in again. “Looking forward to it.”

And with that, he’s gone—leaving behind the faint scent of eucalyptus cream, a used ice pack, and something else you hadn’t expected to feel after a single session:

Curiosity.

—

You’re not expecting to see him at 7:42 a.m.

You certainly aren’t expecting him to show up at the clinic with his hoodie pulled over his head, mask on, and… two iced coffees in his hands.

He holds them up like a peace offering when you open the door. “One for the boss. One for her favorite patient.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Did you bribe the front desk to let you in early?”

“I may have name-dropped you,” he admits, eyes twinkling. “The receptionist said you hate mornings, so I figured I’d come armed.”

You take the coffee, still warm in the cup holder. “Flattery and caffeine. Classic distraction technique.”

“Is it working?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Not when your scapula’s still flaring and you’re standing like a question mark.”

He grins, dropping the act long enough to roll his shoulder back with a wince. “Okay, okay. I’m here to be disciplined.”

“Not disciplined. Just… fixed.”

You gesture for him to follow you back into the treatment room, and he falls in step behind you like a well-trained golden retriever. The coffee helps. So does the way he listens when you talk about pressure points and posture. And when you press your thumb against the tension knot by his shoulder blade, he doesn't even flinch this time.

He just breathes in. Quiet. Controlled.

"You're getting better," you murmur, mostly to yourself.

"Thanks to my terrifying therapist," he replies, voice muffled against the pillow.

You snort. “Terrifying?”

“I mean it in a loving, respectful, please-don’t-hurt-me way.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

Joshua lifts his head just enough to smirk at you. “You say that like it’s not part of the job description.”

You don’t say anything, but your fingers soften slightly on his shoulder, easing into long, slow strokes as the knot finally begins to dissolve.

It’s quiet for a while. Just the sound of the heating pad buzzing softly and the hum of morning traffic outside.

Then he speaks again, quietly this time.

“I don’t really let a lot of people work on me.”

You pause for a beat. “Why’s that?”

“Guess I don’t like feeling… fragile.”

You glance down at him. He’s staring at the floor now, lashes low. It’s not vulnerability so much as honesty. A rare thing, you imagine, in a world where medals matter more than bruises.

You press your palm gently over his shoulder.

“You’re not fragile,” you say softly. “You’re just human. Same as everyone else.”

He exhales slowly. And when he looks up at you again, there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

Something warm. Curious. Unspoken.

“…You always talk like that?”

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like you know me.”

You give a small smile. “Maybe I’m just good at my job.”

He doesn’t answer right away. But as you wrap his shoulder and hand him a bottle of water, he bumps your shoulder with his lightly on the way out.

“Still bringing you coffee next time. Just so you know.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll consider it part of your treatment plan.”

—

[Joshua's POV – Later That Night]

He should be stretching. Or icing. Or reviewing footage like he told his coach he would.

Instead, Joshua is lying on the floor of his apartment, staring at the ceiling, and replaying the way you said it.

You’re not fragile. You’re just human.

He’s heard a thousand versions of that before—from teammates, trainers, even reporters trying to be kind after a loss. But none of them landed the way yours did. None of them made him feel seen and whole in the same breath.

You didn’t flinch at the tension in his shoulders. You didn’t treat him like glass. And you didn’t try to fix him with platitudes or pity.

You just showed up. Coffee in hand. Sharp tongue. Gentle hands.

And maybe that’s why you’re getting under his skin faster than any therapist or partner ever has. You don’t tiptoe around him. You don’t try to impress him.

You’re just… you.

Annoying. Brilliant. Honest in a way that feels like a dare.

He sits up slowly, rolling his shoulders. The pain is still there, but it's quieter now. Manageable.

He taps open his phone, scrolls past texts from his coach, and pauses on the one draft he hasn’t sent.

It’s not a message.

It’s just your name.

Saved under a contact he never quite had the nerve to use outside of appointments.

Until now.

JOSHUA: you free friday morning? not for treatment

JOSHUA: just coffee. (but like, the friendship kind. or not. idk.)

He doesn’t send it.

Not yet.

But the draft sits there, patient. Just like you.

And for the first time in weeks, he feels something in his chest that isn’t pressure.

It might be hope.

—

“You again?”

You’re not supposed to be here today.

Technically, your Friday mornings are sacred—the one time a week you aren’t taping ankles, aligning spines, or explaining why “rest” doesn’t mean training in secret when your coach isn’t looking. But an early patient canceled, and the coffee shop near the clinic has your favorite matcha back in stock, so…

You’re halfway out the door, cup in hand, when someone nearly collides with you on the sidewalk.

You both freeze.

You blink up at Joshua Hong, who’s wearing a hoodie pulled over his damp hair, earbuds still in, and an expression like he absolutely did not expect to be caught here.

“…Hi,” he says, a beat too slow.

“Hi,” you echo, raising a brow. “I thought you had Fridays off.”

“I thought you had Fridays off.”

You narrow your eyes. “I do. This is a coincidence.”

Joshua glances down at the coffee in your hand. “So this is what betrayal looks like.”

You snort. “Sorry, were you hoping for a solo paparazzi moment? Don’t worry, I’ll keep your little ‘post-recovery walk’ a secret.”

He exhales a soft laugh. “You don’t have to keep score, you know.”

“That’s literally my job.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—quiet, honest.

And then, after a hesitation just long enough to be noticeable:

“…You wanna walk with me a bit?”

You pretend to consider it.

“I mean, I was planning on sitting dramatically at the bus stop and contemplating my life, but sure. Ruin the vibe.”

Joshua steps beside you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and together you fall into an easy pace. The morning is still cool. Quiet. The kind of space where words don’t need to fill every second.

He lets you talk about the matcha. You let him talk about the dog he saw yesterday that “looked like it could land a triple axel.” You both dodge a rogue pigeon like you’re part of a dance routine you didn’t choreograph but somehow know anyway.

And just when the walk turns back toward the clinic, he says:

“You know, I almost texted you this morning.”

You glance sideways, careful not to trip over your own thoughts.

“Oh yeah? What about?”

His hand brushes yours as he shrugs. “This. Coffee. Maybe a walk.”

“You were gonna ask me out.”

Joshua falters. “No! I mean — not like that. I mean—”

You take a sip of your drink, hiding the smirk. “It’s okay. You can.”

He groans softly into his hoodie, tugging the strings tighter. “You’re so annoying.”

“But you still walked with me.”

“…Yeah.”

You reach the front door of the clinic. You should go inside. You really should.

But instead you glance at him and say, “You free next Friday?”

His eyes meet yours.

“I am now.”

—

“This is technically trespassing.”

Joshua grins at you over his shoulder as the rink doors click shut behind you. “It’s not trespassing if I have a key.”

You raise a brow. “Is the key yours?”

He doesn’t answer. Just tugs you gently by the sleeve toward the ice.

You shouldn’t be here. The rink’s officially closed, the overhead lights dimmed except for the ones casting a soft glow over the empty surface. It’s past 9PM, and you’d just finished your last patient when he texted:

JOSHUA: hey

JOSHUA: not a date

JOSHUA: but if you’re not busy

JOSHUA: come to the rink

You told yourself you were just dropping by. Maybe five minutes, ten max. Just long enough to make sure he wasn’t overexerting.

But then he smiled like that when you walked in—half-tired, half-happy—and now here you are, hands in your jacket pockets, watching as he steps onto the ice like it’s where he belongs.

You’ve seen him skate before. Professionally. During warm-ups. In videos pulled up by a coworker who’s definitely not subtle about how hot he is.

But this is different.

This is just for him. Just for you.

Joshua moves slowly at first, tracing long, careful edges along the outer rink. His blades whisper against the ice. You can hear his breath. See the way his brows furrow slightly in focus before smoothing out when the music starts playing softly from a speaker in his pocket.

He glides into a sequence—nothing too demanding—but you recognize the way he’s testing his ankle. Pushing it just a little further than he should.

“Hong,” you call out without thinking. “You’re compensating. Right turn’s too shallow.”

He skids to a stop, looks over at you with an almost sheepish smile.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

You snort. “I’m literally a physical therapist. That’s my whole thing.”

He skates toward the edge, rests his gloved hands on the barrier between you. “So what’s the verdict, Doctor?”

You lean slightly closer. “Stop favoring your left. Either commit or take a break.”

He tilts his head. “What if I don’t want to do either?”

“Then you better get used to seeing me every morning.”

“…That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Your stomach flutters a little, and you’re very glad the rink is cold enough to excuse your red cheeks.

He notices anyway.

“Wanna try?” he asks suddenly.

You blink. “What, skating?”

Joshua gestures toward the ice. “I’ve got an extra pair of skates in my bag. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You hesitate. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’m allowed to stand still.”

“You won’t.”

He grins. “Maybe not. But I’ll catch you if you do.”

You roll your eyes, but your feet are already moving toward the bench.

A few minutes later, you’re wobbling onto the ice with Joshua’s hands hovering just inches from your arms—not holding, just close enough.

“You’re not bad,” he says as you cling to the rail. “Like, second-date level skating.”

You arch a brow. “Is this a date now?”

He shrugs, eyes dancing. “You tell me.”

You pause.

Then you say—soft, quiet, sincere:

“…If it is, it’s my favorite one so far.”

Joshua’s smile could melt the whole rink.

And this time, when you slip, he really does catch you.

—

You wake up to a soft buzz on your nightstand.

It's not your alarm—that already failed you twenty minutes ago—but something gentler. Persistent. You blink against the light of your phone screen.

JOSHUA: morning 🧊

JOSHUA: any muscle soreness

JOSHUA: from your gold medal-worthy rail cling?

You groan into your pillow, then grin before you can stop yourself. You stretch your arms, and okay—your calves are a little sore.

YOU: only emotionally

YOU: you let me fall on purpose

His reply is instant:

JOSHUA: 😇 i literally caught you

JOSHUA: in the most romantic way possible

JOSHUA: you owe me a romcom soundtrack

YOU: I owe you a tetanus shot from the bench splinter you sat on

JOSHUA: sounds like an excuse to come see you again

JOSHUA: how’s your 11am looking?

You sit up slowly, rereading that last text. There’s no teasing emoji this time. Just words. Direct. Casual, but curious.

Your heart flips—the kind of flip that doesn't need choreography.

YOU: open. are you bringing coffee or just vibes?

JOSHUA: strong americano, stronger vibes

JOSHUA: see you soon

You set your phone down, smiling into the sunlit mess of your blanket, and think—maybe this season won’t just be about recovery.

Maybe it's about something new starting, too.

—

He shows up at exactly 10:59 AM. 

Of course he does.

Joshua’s punctual in that way that’s not obnoxious, just... expected. Like the first chill of a perfect figure-eight. Like the smooth landing he always makes look effortless.

“Morning, Coach,” he says, stepping into the small rehab studio, two coffees in hand and something jingling in his pocket.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re not on the schedule today.”

“And yet, here I am. Injured and in need of caffeine. Tragic, right?”

He hands you your usual—black, no sugar, but somehow sweet anyway—and taps the side of the paper cup like it’s part of his delivery service.

You sip. It’s still warm. “Are you here for actual therapy, or just to flirt with your trainer?”

“Why not both?”

You blink at him. He grins.

“Okay, sit,” you say, trying not to smile as you motion toward the treatment table. “Stretch while I get the rollers.”

He obeys, toeing off his sneakers and settling onto the mat. He starts doing those lazy cat stretches he always exaggerates when he knows you’re watching. You shake your head, grabbing the foam roller and a fresh resistance band.

As you kneel beside him, Joshua reaches into his jacket pocket.

“Oh—almost forgot.” He holds out something tiny, silver, and shaped like a skate. “For you.”

You blink down at the little keychain. It’s surprisingly detailed—polished blades, carved boot laces, the works.

“Is this because I caught you mid-sprawl yesterday?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s because every time I look at this, I’ll remember that my trainer yells better than any coach I’ve ever had.”

You roll your eyes but tuck the keychain into your jacket anyway. It’s heavier than it looks. Solid. Kind of like this whole thing—whatever this is.

“Alright, Gold Medalist,” you say, tapping his knee. “Let’s see if your quads survived last night.”

He laughs, soft and real. “Only if you promise not to make me cry in front of the receptionist again.”

“No promises.”

But your hands are gentler than yesterday. And he stays longer than necessary, sipping his coffee, feet dangling off the table like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Like you’re not both standing at the edge of something bigger than a comeback season.

Something harder to land—but maybe worth it.

—

The rink buzzes with energy when you arrive—skaters warming up, coaches shouting last-minute tips, blades scraping ice. But all you can focus on is the tall figure waiting near center ice, his breath misting in the cold air, eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

Joshua waves—a small, almost shy gesture that doesn’t quite fit his usual confident grin.

“Ready to see if all that therapy actually worked?” he calls, voice light but with a trace of something underneath.

You cross your arms, trying to mask the flutter in your chest. “I’m mostly here to make sure you don’t break anything.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

As he laces his skates, you take a moment to observe—the way his fingers move deliberately, how his jaw tightens with focus, and how despite the tension, there’s a softness reserved just for you.

“Okay,” you say, stepping onto the ice, the cold biting your cheeks. “Let’s run through the basics before we try anything fancy.”

Joshua nods, falling into a rhythm beside you. His movements are fluid but cautious—his shoulder occasionally tensing, a subtle reminder of yesterday’s reminders.

During a spin sequence, his balance falters slightly. You instinctively reach out, steadying him with a quick touch.

He meets your gaze, a flicker of surprise before he smirks. “Guess I can’t hide anything from you.”

“You’re not allowed to,” you reply, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

The air between you shifts—lighter, warmer.

“Hey,” Joshua says softly, “thanks for sticking with me through the bad days.”

You shrug, trying not to let your smile show. “Someone’s gotta keep you from skating yourself into a hospital bed.”

He chuckles, then leans in just enough that you catch the faint scent of cinnamon gum.

“Maybe I’m looking forward to those days,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches. You both know what he means—but neither of you says it out loud.

As practice winds down, Joshua takes your hand in his, quick and casual.

“See you tomorrow, therapist.”

You squeeze his fingers back. “Don’t make me regret it.”

He grins. “Never.”

And just like that, the line between patient and trainer, skater and coach, starts to blur.

—

The clinic feels unusually still this morning, the hum of the city muted beneath the soft buzz of fluorescent lights. You’re surprised when Joshua arrives not on skates, but in cozy sweats and slippers, his usual confident stride replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“I’m officially benched,” he says, plopping down on the treatment table with a sigh.

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Benched? You mean told to rest and stop pretending you’re invincible?”

He shrugs, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Yeah. Coach says I need a day off. And the doc says I need to listen to the coach. So here I am.”

You sit beside him, pulling out the massage tools you brought just for today. “Good. You deserve it.”

Joshua watches you work, the tension in his muscles slowly melting under your hands. For once, he doesn’t try to mask the fatigue or hide the frustration.

“I hate feeling useless,” he admits quietly.

You pause, looking up to meet his gaze. “You’re not useless. Rest is part of the process—just like training.”

He nods slowly, letting your words settle in. After a beat, he smiles—small, genuine.

“You’re pretty amazing at this, you know?”

You chuckle softly. “Well, I did have a great teacher.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

You lean in, voice low. “You.”

Joshua laughs, the sound warm and easy. “Guess I’m not so bad at this whole ‘healing’ thing after all.”

You meet his eyes, heart fluttering. “Neither are you.”

The room feels cozy, filled with the quiet comfort of shared space and unspoken understanding. For a moment, the world outside fades away.

And in that calm, Joshua reaches out, his hand finding yours—tentative, sincere.

“Thanks for being here,” he murmurs.

You squeeze his fingers gently. “Always.”

—

The clinic is quiet—only the distant hum of the city and the soft ticking of the clock filling the space between you.

Joshua stands by the window, looking out, fingers tapping lightly against the glass. You watch him from the treatment table, heart thudding louder than usual.

He turns, eyes meeting yours, vulnerability shining in their depths.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins, voice low and hesitant, “about how… I don’t want this to be just therapy sessions or coffee runs or late-night skate practices.”

You swallow, nerves knotting your stomach. “What do you want it to be?”

He steps closer, hesitation giving way to resolve. “I want it to be us. Not just trainer and skater. Not just friends who happen to care.”

You reach out, fingers brushing his hand, grounding both of you.

“I want that too,” you whisper.

A slow smile spreads across his face—the kind that reaches his eyes and makes your chest feel impossibly full.

He closes the distance, voice soft but certain.

“So… can we try? I mean, us?”

You nod, heart swelling with warmth.

“Definitely.”

And in the quiet space where words had danced just out of reach for so long, you find each other—finally, completely, and unmistakably.

[nightshao]

I’m gonna cry 🥹 this is so cute! i love them! you never disappoint.. yayyy!! definitely will reread

[woncheolisms]

NEED. (joshua hong x reader x yoon jeonghan) - PART ONE

summary: when you’re told by doctors that you need to get off your suppressants and go into heat, your beta husband thinks he has the perfect alpha in mind to help satisfy your needs.

word count: 9k

warnings: omega!reader, beta!joshua, alpha!jeonghan, established relationship (joshua x reader), angst, feelings of insecurity and self doubt, so much love between reader and joshua, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, mentions of heats, ruts, knotting, scenting, lowkey cuck joshua, polyamory in next part so read at your own risk.

PART TWO

masterlist

The car hums softly as it passes down the road. There’s almost no traffic so early in the morning, which is good, because it means you will get home early and not have to spend too long in the tense silence. You can feel Joshua’s glances burning holes in the side of your head, but you pointedly keep looking out of the passenger side window. There’s this feeling of anticipation in the air, like he has words on the tip of his tongue, but he isn’t saying them out loud. You know what’s coming, but you want to avoid this conversation at all costs.

Finally, Joshua speaks.

“You know we have to talk about this.”

You don’t look at him, eyes still trained on the window. “No, we don’t.”

He sighs softly, not resignation, just acknowledgment. He won’t let this go, you know he won’t. Despite being so tired from spending all night in the emergency room with you, you know Joshua’s mind is racing, trying to come up with a plan. But in your head, there is no need for a plan. You will not listen to the doctor’s advice here. This whole thing is ridiculous.

When you get home, Joshua helps you inside and up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He tucks you in, lays a soft kiss on your forehead, and asks what you want for breakfast.

“‘M not hungry.” You mumble.

“I can’t give you your meds on an empty stomach, darling. You have to eat. Maybe something very light?”

You sigh. “Okay.”

You will do what he says because Joshua has always taken care of you. After six years together, there’s absolutely nothing about you that he doesn’t know. He is completely in-tune with your needs, and he has always pampered and spoiled you with anything you could ever ask for. You are so head over heels in love with him. He is everything you ever wanted.

Half an hour later, Joshua is gently nudging you awake. You had dozed off after being awake most of the night. He helps you sit up and you wince as your lower stomach tightens with a familiar cramp. Joshua pauses, watching your face. You try to wipe it clean, let him know you’re okay, but you can’t fool him. He knows you too well.

He sighs deeply and sets up the tray in front of you. You don’t even protest when he starts feeding you himself, not even letting you touch the plate. You chew slowly.

The silence is tense again. You know what’s coming. You know what he will say. Frankly, just the thought of it is irritating you all over again.

“I was thinking about it,” he begins. You grit your teeth and chew slower. When you don’t reply, he barrels on.

“I have some ideas about who could help you with it.”

You blink, shocked. When he holds up the next bite, you tilt your head away, bewildered eyes still trained on your husband.

“You can’t be serious.”

Joshua sighs. “Darling, you need this.”

“No, I don’t.” You punch out. “The doctor made a suggestion. It isn’t necessary.”

“It’s the only solution. Either this, or you take meds for the rest of your life.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Well, I’m not.”

You pause at the sudden sharpness of his voice. Joshua is always soft, always so loving and considerate. He hardly ever gets angry, especially not with you. The only time you can remember him expressing any negative emotions is when you periodically get sick. It has been happening more and more frequently in these last few months, considering that you’ve been getting sick so much more. Last night was the final straw when he woke up at 2am to you throwing up in the bathroom, face red and blotchy, with a fever so high that it nearly burned his hand when he checked your forehead. He didn’t hesitate for a second before picking you up and putting you in the car, driving you straight to the hospital.

It took hours to get checked out and receive meds, finally making your fever go down. Joshua told the doctor all about your recurrent sickness, once nearly every two weeks, intense cramps and fever that would leave you bed ridden for most of the day. It worried him greatly, and when the doctor asked you one particular question, you knew exactly what the reason for your illness was.

“How long have you been on suppressants?”

You had shrugged from where you lay on the bed. “Around seven years.”

The doctor had sighed and nodded resolutely. “That’s the issue. You haven’t had a heat in too long. You’re getting cramps and fevers because your body is asking for a knot.”

Frankly, you felt a little offended and angry at the time. You know you have bad experiences about this particular subject. When you first got together with Joshua, this was the biggest concern for all your friends and family. Would you be okay with spending the rest of your life with a beta? Someone who can’t provide you what your body biologically needs? You had fought everyone in your life to be with him, telling them to mind their own business and that you don’t need unsolicited advice.

You love Joshua. You don’t love him despite him being a beta. You love him because of it. He is level headed and calm. He has never struggled with instinct or extreme emotions. For someone like you, who is so sensitive and can sometimes be a paranoid overthinker, Joshua is the perfect pillar and support. He keeps you grounded.

Also, any talk of this so-called biological need is frankly ridiculous to you. Joshua is incredible in bed. He is a giver through and through. He has never left you wanting. Both of you are so compatible. Getting on long-term suppressants was a complete no-brainer for you. You don’t need to go through the whole painful ordeal of heats anymore. You’ve been so deliriously happy for six years with him. You love him more than anything in the whole world.

Curse that doctor for suggesting what he did. Curse him. Because even someone as confident and self assured as Joshua can be doubtful. He has only ever had one insecurity in his life, and that was this. His inability to give you a knot.

Now here he sits in front of you, face hard set and lips pulled tightly into a thin line. He’s upset, you can tell, and that makes you upset. You take a shaky breath before speaking again.

“I don’t need anyone else.” You say. “I only need you.”

Joshua sighs and lowers the hand holding the spoon. He fiddles with the bowl, swirling the spoon around in it, lost deep in thought.

“Your body clearly needs a knot.” He says. “I can’t stand to see you sick so often. I can’t. It’s too painful.”

When he looks at you again, his eyes are pleading. “Just let me look into our options. We don’t have to decide anything yet. Just think about it. For me.”

Your eyes dart between his. You want to protest, you really do. The thought of being with anyone that isn’t him, especially while you’re in heat, is too much for you. But you can see that this is tearing him up on the inside. His one fear, his one insecurity, is being flaunted in his face like this. You can’t imagine how he must be feeling. You grit your teeth and nod, body slumping in resignation. If doing this means that he can at least be put at ease, then so be it.

“Okay.”

…………………………………..

Joshua Hong considers himself a confident man.

He has always been like this, even from a very young age. In any friend group he’s been in, he is supportive and nonjudgmental. He is the first person people come to for advice. He isn’t hesitant in anything he does. Head first, can’t lose. Even his mother was surprised when he presented as a beta and not an alpha, but Joshua always thought it made perfect sense. He isn’t overly emotional, he doesn’t struggle with handing over control. He knows when a situation requires him to step up and when to step down. He despises any of that territorial bullshit a lot of alphas engage in.

When he first met you, he knew he wanted to be with you forever.

You met through mutual friends, so Joshua knew of you for a long time before he ever actually saw you. But when he did, he was enamored immediately. There was something so soft and welcoming about you. You calmed him down, even though his entire life, he was the one doing that for other people. To him, you were something precious. He knew after that first meeting that he wanted to be around you. He just wondered if you wanted to be around him too.

When you first started dating, Joshua was hesitant. He knew what the stigma was. He was hyper aware of the fact that he was a beta, and you were a very, very desirable, unmated omega. During those early weeks of dating, he could see the way you would turn heads when you went out. Alphas wanted you, he knew. He wasn’t stupid. He could see it a mile off, could smell the desperation rolling off of them. But then he would turn his head to you, only to find you already looking at him, bright eyes and the tiniest smile.

When dating turned into a relationship, and when infatuation turned into love, Joshua saw in real time how he became the love of your life, just as you became his.

You didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about it, feisty as you are. He remembers when you fought with your mother about it, telling her to back off, telling her that he is all you ever wanted, all you would ever want. It was your rigid faith in the two of you, in him, that made Joshua feel so at ease. You never hid it, it was always written all over your face. You loved him with every part of you, just as he loved you.

He will never doubt that. He still doesn’t, to this day.

His eyes are trained on the screen, the cursor blinking on the word document open in front of him. He tuned out a while ago, and work is really the last thing on his mind right now. There’s too much happening at home, and these days, he feels like all he can think about is your illness and how he’s going to fix it.

If he even can. It’s obvious you aren’t totally on board with this. You’re doing it for him. And that makes him love you even more.

“You know, you could at least pretend to work.”

Joshua blinks and looks up. Jeonghan’s head is poking over the top of the cubicle wall, chin resting on his arms. There’s amusement lingering in his eyes. Joshua huffs.

“I am pretending.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Well, you’re not fooling anyone. Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The break room is all the way on the other side of the building, and getting coffee is really an excuse to take a break, dawdling and lingering, taking as long as they both can to grab a simple coffee. Any excuse to not work. It’s an age-old tradition, one that Joshua had made with Jeonghan since they both started here fresh out of college. That was many, many years ago, even before he ever met you.

Jeonghan is, as always, not dressed appropriately for work, wearing baggy jeans and a T-shirt like he always does. It’s crazy that he’s allowed to get away with it, but Joshua knows that if anyone can pull this kind of stunt off, it’s Jeonghan. He is an extremely convincing person, and he’s very smart about it too. A coworker of theirs, who was never a fan of Jeonghan, always calls him ‘manipulative’. It should be offensive, but Jeonghan laughs it off every time. And that’s because he is secure enough in himself to know that there is a little truth to that accusation.

Joshua is a bit of a stickler for rules, but he never holds them against Jeonghan. Frankly, Jeonghan has been Joshua’s biggest support besides you ever since he graduated. He knows that despite how people perceive Jeonghan, there is no one in Joshua’s life who is as open, as understanding and as kind as him. At first glance, Jeonghan doesn’t really look like an alpha, and he has been confused as a beta countless times. But within minutes of knowing him, Joshua could tell why Jeonghan’s secondary gender was alpha. He isn’t an overwhelming, territorial presence. He isn’t loud and mean about it. There’s a chilling calm in Jeonghan that doesn’t have to be all-encompassing. Jeonghan has the kind of presence that puts the fear of god in people without raising his tone even one decibel. And Joshua likes that. Jeonghan keeps everyone on their toes.

But this also means that Jeonghan is perceptive as hell. When they are finally standing in front of the coffee machine in the empty break room, Jeonghan asks him the dreaded question.

“Everything okay at home?”

Joshua sighs. “Yeah, kind of.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push. As always, he lets Joshua open up on his own terms. So he chooses his words carefully before he speaks.

“You know how Y/N hasn’t been feeling well for a while now?”

Jeonghan nods. “Yeah, the fevers. Did she get sick again?”

Joshua nods. “Took her to the hospital. Found out why she can’t seem to get better.”

Joshua explains the whole situation to his friend, and Jeonghan listens attentively. He nods and hums, doesn’t interrupt, and when Joshua finally finishes, he lets the confession marinate in the air for a bit before responding.

“It seems like she really doesn’t want this.”

Joshua snorts, leaning his hip against the counter. “Her brain doesn’t. Her body clearly does.”

Jeonghan takes a sip, expression thoughtful. “Have you thought about presenting it to her that way? That this is essentially like a medical treatment. The reason she’s so opposed right now is because she’s thinking about this emotionally. Maybe if you make it as clinical as possible, she won’t be so hesitant about it.”

Joshua purses his lips, thinking. “I suppose so.”

Jeonghan nods. “I think that’s the angle you should take here.”

As they walk back to their desks, Joshua bites the inside of his lip, thinking. An idea is forming in his head, the very first inkling of it. He glances sideways at Jeonghan. What if…..

He shakes his head. He can’t possibly be entertaining this.

But the thought doesn’t leave him. Not for the rest of the day, not when he clocks out, and not when he’s finally home, toeing his shoes off next to the door before trudging inside, placing his bag on the couch. He can hear something sizzling in the kitchen, along with the aroma of dinner cooking. He sighs when he walks in and sees you bent over a large pot, stirring something as you peer inside.

“Sweetie, why aren’t you in bed?” He mumbles, running a tender hand down your waist and dropping a kiss on your shoulder.

“I’m making soup. It’s cold outside. This will warm us up.” You sound cheerful, and Joshua feels a bit at ease knowing you’re feeling better. He helps you finish the soup quickly, plating it and walking the tray to the living room. He grabs a blanket from your room and drapes it over both of you, turning on the television so you can have some background noise.

You ask him about his day, and he indulges you with some minor details. He wonders if he should bring up his idea right now, but decides against it. He needs to think on this more, make sure that he is completely okay with it inside and out before he even suggests it to you or Jeonghan. He knows that once he puts this out there, he can’t take it back, so he needs to make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his mind first.

Dinner is calm and intimate, half your legs draped over his as you munch on fresh baked sourdough bread dipped in creamy, carrot soup. It’s delicious, and it does warm Joshua up very quickly. You were right, this is exactly what he needed. Cozy on the couch after dinner, he laves you with kisses, all over your face and neck, licking over the mark that he put on you years and years ago. You shiver under his touch and moan quietly. Joshua can feel his cock stir, and he pulls you into his lap immediately. No more thinking for tonight, he wants to turn his brain off and savor you.

He takes it slow, laying you under him to pump his cock in and out of you. With every thrust, he angles his hips just right, knowing exactly where to hit that will have your toes curling and your pussy clenching deliciously around him. He whispers quiet encouragement in your ear, and when your orgasms hit, they crest over softly and sweetly, whispered ‘I love you’s coaxing you both through them. Joshua wraps his arms tight around your waist, kissing you over and over until his lips are numb and tingly with it. You have a smile on your face, easy and lazy, eyes half lidded. He carries you back to the bed, cleans you up and tucks you into his side, feeling you go pliant against him as you drift to sleep. His body buzzes pleasantly, but his eyes are wide open. He stares at the ceiling, and his mind goes back to the thought that has plagued him since this morning as he runs a gentle hand up and down your bare back. The more he thinks about it, the more he is convinced.

Jeonghan would be the perfect alpha for you.

He has always been different, marching on the beat of his own drum. While Jeonghan is completely, undoubtedly an alpha, he is not overcome with the intense need to prove himself like most alphas are. He is confident in where he stands, self-assured and satisfied with his status. Joshua knows that an alpha in a sexual setting might freak you out, but someone as unassuming as Jeonghan might work out well for your heat.

You’ve also known Jeonghan for a very long time, almost as long as you have known Joshua. He is an alpha that you completely trust. In fact, Joshua is sure that besides him, Jeonghan might be the only man you are comfortable around. You both hit it off instantly when you met because of how similar your sense of humor is. You always send home cooked meals to Jeonghan when he is in rut. And you are always the first to befriend any omega he courts. You are familiar with him, which would make the emotional turmoil inside you a bit easier to deal with when you’re in heat and not in control of your senses.

By all logic, this is the best solution.

Joshua looks down at your sleeping form, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You don’t stir, still limp half on top of him. Joshua wants to relax, he wants to sleep, but he can’t. It just won’t come. He’s too amped up, too caught up in the web of suggestions racing around in his head. He reaches for his phone with his free hand, making sure to turn the brightness down to the minimum so you aren’t disturbed. He does his best to type with one hand.

[joshua]: awake?

The reply comes within two minutes.

[jeonghan]: yeah. everything ok?

Joshua contemplates. Why did he message Jeonghan? This is not the kind of conversation he can have over the phone. And he absolutely can’t tell Jeonghan about this before he has brought it up with you. He doesn’t know why he immediately texted Jeonghan. So he just sends back a quick ‘yeah, sorry’ and shuts his phone off again, ignoring Jeonghan’s reply to it.

He needs to sort out his head. And then he needs to sort out everything with you.

………………………………..

Being with someone for as long as you’ve been with Joshua means that you become smart enough to know when to push something and when to pull back on it so it can take its natural course. In this scenario, you know you have to stand back and let him come to you instead.

You notice, because of course you do, how withdrawn he has become. He came back from the office distracted one day, and he hasn’t really bounced back since then. When he’s at home with you, you have his full attention, but you can tell that when you’re hanging around his periphery that his eyes gloss over, face pinched in deep thought. He’s mulling something over in his head, you can tell. But you know Joshua, and you trust him. He will come to you with it eventually, once he has sorted it out in his own head.

That day comes around a week after you first notice his change in behavior. You’ve been feeling a bit under the weather again, and you think that might be the deciding factor for Joshua, because when you’re leaning against the headboard of the bed that evening, him sitting with your feet in his lap, rubbing over the soles in a way that has you sighing and relaxing into the pillows, he finally brings it up.

“I know I’ve been acting a little weird. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Your voice is soft, but your heart is racing a little. You already have an inkling of what this will be about.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I think I’ve found someone who can help you if you get off your suppressants and go into heat.”

You stay silent but nod, encouraging him to keep going. You can see his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath, his eyes on your feet which he’s still working with his hands, before speaking.

“Jeonghan.”

You blink once, twice, staring at your husband. “Jeonghan?”

“Yes.”

“From work?”

Joshua’s lips twitch with amusement. “Do you know any other Jeonghan?”

You sit up a bit more, making his movements pause. His face turns serious again, watching you carefully. You take your time, thinking it through, trying to see it from his point of view. You certainly didn’t expect this. You did know he was probably looking into different alphas, but you assumed he would pick one that you didn’t know that well, connected through friends of friends that you would probably never see again.

But Jeonghan….

Jeonghan is probably your only alpha friend. You know lots of omegas and betas, but Jeonghan is the only alpha you’ve ever truly felt comfortable around. Is that the angle Joshua is going with over here? He’s a close friend so your omega will be comfortable with him?

He is still watching you closely, and he continues rubbing your feet as you think. You ask your first question.

“Will you be okay with it?”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it, darling.”

You sigh. “I know. But…… it’s Jeonghan. Your best friend and coworker Jeonghan.”

Joshua shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Jeonghan is the best person for something like this. He’s the only alpha you’re okay with being around. I don’t want it to be some stranger. What if it distresses your omega in the middle of your heat? That would be disastrous.”

He’s right. This will be your first heat in almost seven years. God, you can’t even remember your last heat. And Joshua has never experienced you in heat either. This will be new to both of you. Scratch that, all three of you.

“Does Jeonghan know about this?”

Joshua vehemently shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I will only talk to him if you give me the go-ahead.”

You can’t help but laugh a little. “This feels like a business deal.”

Joshua smiles and gently puts your foot down on the bed. Then, he opens his arms.

“Come here.”

You happily climb into his lap, relaxing into his warmth. He’s always so, so warm, like your own personal furnace in the winters. You love it.

“We will only do this if you’re okay with it. I will drop the whole idea if you say so.”

You shake your head and sigh. “No, you’re right. Jeonghan might be the only good choice here.”

You let him rub your back up and down, making you feel sleepy again. You still don’t know how you feel about this, but there will be a lot of time to warm up to the idea eventually. Joshua still has to talk to Jeonghan about it, and you have to go to the clinic and safely get off the suppressants. So there’s time enough for your omega to accept and adjust to the situation.

Right now, you don’t want to think about any of it. So you snuggle into your husband, calmed down by his grounded scent, letting all these thoughts leave your head in favor of the man in front of you.

…………………………

You don’t expect Joshua to bring Jeonghan home with him the next day after work, but he does.

You blink owlishly at both of them. You wanted to bake today, so the kitchen is a mess and so are you. Your apron is caked in flour and cocoa powder, and the counters are dirty with it too. The cupcakes are finally in the oven, but you hadn’t begun cleaning up when both of them show up, leaving you gobsmacked.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Joshua looks genuinely apologetic, walking closer to lay a kiss on your forehead. “I texted and called but you weren’t answering.”

You shake your head and smile. “It’s okay. Sorry, I didn’t check my phone.”

You hold up your dirty hands as the reason why. Jeonghan smiles.

“I hope this is okay.”

“Of course it is! Don’t be ridiculous.” You wave a hand in dismissal before walking to the sink to wash off the flour and batter.

“We’ll help clean up.” Jeonghan offers. Before you can protest, both men spring into action, so you just let them. Frankly, you’re tired again, as you so often are these days. You barely have energy to do anything. So when you felt better this morning, you wanted to bake for Joshua. You know he enjoys sweet treats. He’s the one usually making them for you, so you wanted to do it for him this time. But it seems your body doesn’t agree with you as much as you want it too.

You’re hit with another wave of dizziness, gripping the sink tightly so you don’t fall. You watch the water flow from the tap, taking deep breaths.

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice is a little unfamiliar when it hits your ear, making you jump. “Maybe you should sit down.”

You nod dumbly. You want to move, but you need this wave of dizziness to taper first. Or else you will fall.

You hear both of them in the background before Jeonghan speaks. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”

Someone turns the sink tap off. You feel two hands on your elbows, turning you around and slowly coaxing you out of the kitchen and into the living room. You can smell Jeonghan, scent much stronger than Joshua’s, and characteristically alpha. But it’s a scent you recognise, peaches and cedarwood. You sit down on the couch, vision still swimming. When it clears a little, you see Jeonghan kneeling before you, smiling a little.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” He whispers. You can hear clattering in the kitchen. Joshua is busy. So you nod.

“I feel terrible all the time.” You keep your voice low. “I don’t want to worry Shua, but I just feel so awful. I’m so tired of being sick.”

Jeonghan nods, understanding. You hesitate.

“Did he tell you?”

He nods again. You sigh.

“You can say no. Please, this isn’t an obligation just because we’re your friends. I know it’s a lot to ask-”

“Why would I say no?”

You stop talking immediately, staring at him. He smiles, that thin, wide smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“If I have the chance to make you feel better, a little less sick, then I will absolutely take it. I care about you, angel. And I’m honored that Shua trusts me with something like this. Anything you need from me, I’m here.”

You can feel your cheeks burn a little at his words. You shakily nod, staring down at your hands. You feel a little shy under his sharp gaze. You don’t notice how he meets Joshua’s eyes over your shoulder, nor the comforting smile that the two exchange with each other.

Dinner is calm and almost intimate. Jeonghan has been over many times before, and you always set your dining table for him. But this time, he joins you two on the couch, sitting on the other side of you with a respectable distance between you two. It’s clear that an invisible line has been crossed with him, but surprisingly, you’re not as uncomfortable with this notion as you thought you would be. It feels like any other day when the three of you hang out. You are once again impressed by Joshua’s thinking process on this. He anticipated your comfort, banked on it, and he was right. You trust Jeonghan immensely, way more than you would any strange, unknown alpha. The more you get used to the idea of spending your heat with him, the more you are satisfied with the decision.

It puts Joshua at ease, you can tell.

A few days later, you finally, officially are off suppressants. The doctor warns you that your heat can hit any day, which sends Joshua into a sort of panic and urgency that you’ve never really seen from him before. He confesses that he’s never dealt with an omega in heat before, but you calm him down, telling him it doesn’t matter. He knows you, he knows how to take care of you, and that’s all that matters.

You make your nest carefully, filled with Joshua’s recently worn clothes. He’s a beta, so the scent isn’t as strong as it would be if it was a nest made with alpha clothing. That makes him fret a little, unsatisfied.

“It needs to be perfect.” He mumbles as he fiddles with the stuff piled on your shared bed. You’re lying in the middle, feeling a little fatigued.

“Shua, it’s fine. I love your scent.”

“You do now. But when your heat hits, it won’t be enough.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“No.” He scowls, reaching for his phone. “I’ll ask Jeonghan to bring some of his clothes over.”

This is the first time he’s mentioned Jeonghan since you got off the suppressants. Both of you discussed the way you would go about it extensively beforehand, but it kind of faded to the back of your mind when your cramps intensified and you started going into preheat. You were so preoccupied with getting yourself ready that you momentarily forgot about the alpha who would actually be helping you through the whole thing.

The mention of Jeonghan right now makes you stiffen a little. Joshua notices immediately, climbing into the nest to comfort you.

“Is that okay?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know.”

You honestly don’t. You haven’t been in heat for so long that you’ve completely forgotten what helped you with it and what didn’t. Your husband nods.

“Okay. I’ll ask him to bring them over and you can see if you want them. We won’t keep them if you don’t want to.”

You nod, and he is on the phone within the next minute. You don’t move when the bell rings, leaving Joshua to scramble out of the nest and to the front door. Jeonghan is standing on the other side with a large, duffel bag.

“Everything I’ve worn in the last week.” He holds it up. “I’ve been holding off on laundry.”

Joshua nods, a little surprised at the consideration. “Thanks.”

He takes the bag. Jeonghan shifts a little.

“She’s in pre-heat.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement, but Joshua nods anyway. “Yeah. How did you know?”

Jeonghan lets out a laugh. “I can smell her, Shuji.”

“Oh.” Joshua blinks. Right. Alpha noses. Infinitely better at sniffing omegas out. He’s not sure how he feels about Jeonghan smelling you like this, but he also knows that Jeonghan is going to do way more than that during your heat, so this is practically nothing.

“I’ll go now.” Jeonghan finally says. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Jeonghan is turning around to leave before Joshua can reply, and he wonders if it’s because of your scent that he is pushing to get away from here. He’s a beta, so can’t tell. But he knows it’s difficult for alphas to hold themselves back when omegas go into heat.

He trudges back into the room where you lay, mind still lingering on the stiff interaction he just had with his friend. But you blink up at him when he is in close proximity, planting himself beside you and placing the bag on the bed.

You sit up slowly, eyeing the bag with a little distrust. Joshua opens it for you, and the scent hits you immediately. First peaches, sharp, and then tamped down by the earthy tone of cedarwood. You reach in and pull out a sweatshirt. Your nose twitches. You bury it in the soft cloth.

He smells so good.

You don’t know if it’s because of your preheat, if it’s because your nose is overly sensitive right now, but you can feel your muscles loosen as the scent fills your senses. A whine escapes your throat involuntarily, and Joshua stiffens at the sound. You don’t register it, enveloped by the scent of alpha. You reach in for more clothes, pulling them out one by one and adjusting them in your nest. Joshua’s soft, flowery scent mixes with Jeonghan’s foresty one, an amalgam of notes that makes you heady. You sigh and lay back down again, reaching up to tug your husband down.

“Shua, scent me.”

He can’t, technically. He has no powerful scent to give. But his mark is still on your neck, and when he licks over it, you relax into his arms. Joshua sighs at the feeling. He needs to calm down. You’re still his. This is just your biology demanding Jeonghan, that’s it. You love him with every part of you. Despite the fact that you need an alpha right now, you’re snuggling into him, fingers running through his hair to scratch deliciously at his scalp. Nothing else matters here, just the two of you. He needs to get his head on straight before your heat begins.

It takes all of two days before you’re restless again.

Jeonghan’s clothes aren’t helping. You’re not in full heat, the cramps haven’t started, but you’re irritable. You cry at the littlest thing, and when that makes you feel guilty, it makes you cry even more. Joshua tries his best to calm you down, but it doesn’t seem to work. Nothing is working, and Joshua thinks it’s time to stop holding off on the inevitable.

Jeonghan is there within half an hour.

He has a bag slung over his shoulder, more clothes inside in case you need them for your nest, as well as fresh clothes he can change into over the next few days. There’s no way he will be able to leave when you’re in the thick of it. Your omega won’t let him.

He smiles at Joshua when he opens the door, eyeing him closely before whistling a little.

“She’s putting you through it, isn’t she?”

It’s a teasing little remark, and it makes Joshua laugh a little. “Understatement.”

Jeonghan pats him on the shoulder as he walks past, trudging into the house. “Don’t worry about it. You need to rest for a little. I’ll take over.”

Joshua hesitates. He knows Jeonghan is experienced, he’s heard about it. So he just nods and leads Jeonghan into your shared bedroom, a place he’s never been to before.

You’re lying curled up in the nest, wearing one of Jeonghan’s hoodies. Joshua can see that Jeonghan seems to like that, the corner of his lips twitching. Probably his alpha reacting to seeing an omega in preheat like this. Jeonghan drops his bag next to the wall by the door and walks closer to the bed. He hesitates at the edge of the nest, turning to look at Joshua.

“May I?”

Joshua appreciates the consideration. He nods. “Of course.”

Jeonghan seats himself beside you, reaching a soft hand up to brush your hair from your face. You shift a little, bleary eyes opening to see him sitting right in front you, inside your nest. You’re hit with his scent, an alpha so close, and you can’t see your pupils dilate, but Jeonghan can. He smiles.

“Hi, omega.”

You whine, a sound from deep inside your chest that has Joshua stiffening. There’s something so primal and needy about it. You struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position. Jeonghan helps you, and as soon as you’re vertical, you’re climbing into his lap.

Jeonghan shushes you as you cry, tears running down your cheeks. It’s instinct for him to nuzzle into your neck, the side opposite to where your mark is, running his tongue over your sweat glands. You moan, hands fisting over the cloth covering his shoulders.

Joshua blinks and snaps out of it, turning around. It’s best to give you some time alone. He can cook something. He had a stew in mind for when your heat starts, something easy to get down without being nauseous, and also very nourishing.

“Shua,” you whine, and the sound immediately makes him freeze. He turns around, and you’re still in Jeonghan’s lap, but your face is turned to him. It makes Jeonghan stop his ministrations, pulling away from you a little bit.

“Where are you going?” You pout. Joshua wants to coo. You look so cute, face flushed and eyes opened so wide.

“I’m just going to make you something to eat.”

He watches in horror as your face crumples, eyes going wet again.

“Don’t-” You inhale sharply. “Don’t leave me.”

Joshua is scrambling back before he even processes your words properly. He climbs into the nest, planting himself down next to Jeonghan so he is eye level with you.

“Never, my darling.” He whispers. “I will never leave you.”

You sniffle as he wipes your tears, and you become acutely aware that you’re still in Jeonghan’s lap. You blink a little, trying to clear the haze in your mind. Both men are watching you. It makes your face burn with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is watery and thin. “I just- I don’t know what I want. I want you both here. I’m sorry. It’s so selfish-”

Joshua is quick to shush you again, wiping your cheeks as more tears escape. Jeonghan’s hands are on your waist, slowly running up and down to comfort you.

“If you want me here, I’ll be here.” Joshua says. Your face just crumples even more.

“It’s not fair to you.” You weep. “To make you watch me like that.”

He’s already shaking his head though, kissing over your wet cheeks. “I want you to have everything you need. You need me here, so I will be here. End of discussion. Okay?”

You nod almost on instinct, driven by how assertive he’s being. He lays one more kiss on your lips before pulling away, placing a warm hand on your back.

You turn to Jeonghan again, only to find his eyes already on you. It makes you flush a little. Truthfully, you’re still embarrassed at your little meltdown. But Jeonghan’s face is soft, relaxed.

“Tell me what you want, omega.”

You’re breath stutters at being referred to by title. You bite your lip.

“Your scent.”

Jeonghan hums and leans down again, licking another thick stripe up your neck like he did before. You tilt your head back, eyes rolling up at the feeling. It feels so good, deliriously good, to be scented like this. You moan again, hips jerking a little. Jeonghan’s grip on your waist tightens.

He spends a good amount of time scenting you. You dig your nails into his back when he nips lightly at the skin, and he hums into your neck, exhaling right over your glands, making your scents mix. You can feel yourself getting wet, and you’re sure that Jeonghan can smell it. Hell, even Joshua can probably smell it with how potent it is. You’re on the cusp of your heat, and it’s making your head spin.

“Alpha,” you gasp, clenching desperately around nothing.

“Hm?” Jeonghan digs his teeth a little into your skin, not enough to break it, but enough to make Joshua clench his jaw a little as he watches over your back. Jeonghan meets the beta’s eyes, testing the waters. You’re still squirming in his lap.

“What do you want, omega?” He whispers in your ear, loud enough for your husband to hear. “Do you want to cum?”

“Yes.” You sob, body seizing up at the mere thought of it.

Jeonghan brushes hair lips over the shell of your ear one last time before pulling away, lifting you from his lap and shuffling you back until your shoulder blades meet Joshua’s chest. He instinctively grips you, giving into his own feelings and leaning down to brush your hair off your neck so he can plant his lips over the claiming bite on your neck. You keen at the feeling, and that satisfies him. Jeonghan’s hands travel down until he’s pushing his hoodie up over your hips, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your sweats. He looks at you briefly and you nod, so he tugs them off.

You can see the way he bites his lip as he eyes your clothed crotch. It sends a thrill down your spine. You feel Joshua’s hands run over your stomach under the hoodie, his bare touch feeling amazing against your heated skin. Jeonghan touches your ankle, a barely there sensation, but then he drags his hand up your calf and thigh. The touch makes you jerk, especially when his hand reaches the crease of your panties. You undulate your hips up, trying to get his hand where you need him, but he pauses, looking up at you. His eyes are dark, and it makes your heart stutter a bit when he tuts.

“Be good.”

You bite your lip, breathing heavily. You aren’t used to this. Joshua has never denied you anything in bed, ever. He is extremely giving, often to the point of overstimulation. That’s the truly sadistic part of him, when he makes you cum so many times that you’re nearly psychotic with it, begging him to stop, your thighs and the bed soaked with your juices. It seems Jeonghan leans the other way, giving you crumbs until you’re begging for more. The complete opposite to how your Shua has trained you.

Jeonghan brushes a finger up your slit over the dark patch on the wet cloth, and you try your best to not buck up into his touch again. Something about the hardness in his eyes tells you that he won’t like that, and right now, you would rather die than disappoint the alpha who will eventually give you his knot. But it seems Joshua doesn’t have that instinct, and he doesn’t like to see you squirm this way.

“Don’t tease her.” He speaks up, hands still exploring your bare torso, soothing touches that take away some of the edge that Jeonghan is subjecting you to. Jeonghan’s eyes snap up to the beta, and the corner of his lip ticks up in amusement.

“You spoil her, don’t you?” He says, his finger pausing at the crest of your lips and pressing down there, right over where your clit is. You gasp. “That’s why she’s like this. She hasn’t learned that patient girls get big rewards.”

You flush at the way he’s talking about you. It’s unbelievably hot, and you can feel the way Joshua’s breath catches in his chest. His lips are right at your ear, breath warm on your skin. He doesn’t reply, watching Jeonghan peel your ruined underwear off your body. You’re so wet that it sticks to you a bit, making your face burn hot. But you aren’t embarrassed for long, because Jeonghan hums in approval, running his finger through the mess. You gasp and jerk again, unable to help yourself, but you stiffen immediately when Jeonghan’s movements pause.

“‘M sorry!” You blurt out. “Sorry, Alpha. I’ll be good, I promise. Please, please don’t stop.”

You feel Joshua’s hands tighten on your waist, the stutter in his breath right next to your ear.

“Baby,” he whispers. You can feel his erection digging into your back. It makes you delirious with need. You want to be filled so badly. You will take anything. Their fingers, their cocks. You just want to be filled.

You whine and sob a little when Jeonghan thumbs at your clit. You spread your legs more on instinct, pulling your knees up a little. He hums in approval, still rubbing tight and slow circles over your clit. It’s torturous, it’s not nearly enough. You want more, more, more.

“Alpha.” You sob again. “I can’t- I need- please.”

Both Jeonghan and Joshua see the exact moment your heat hits, your pupils dilating, taking in a breath with a loud gasp as your legs seize, toes curling. You mewl, the true call of an omega, and Jeonghan curses, movements faltering just a bit. Joshua watches with fascination, your head tilted up, resting on his shoulder. You’re damp all over, half from sweat and half from tears, and your hands are clawing at his arms as he holds you tightly around the waist to keep you propped up. You’re all but melting into him.

“There we go.” Jeonghan whispers, and Joshua finally understands. He’s being this way on purpose, to trigger your heat and end the painful cycle of cramps and mood swings, so your body can fully feel what you want and demand it. And the next second, you do exactly that.

“Alpha,” you rasp, “your knot. Please. Need it. Alpha, please.”

It’s the nearly incoherent babbling of an omega in heat. Jeonghan tugs his sweater off his head, immediately undoing the drawstring on his sweatpants and pulling them off with his boxers in one go. He’s already hard, you can see it, leaking at the tip and flushed an angry red. He looks at Joshua briefly.

“You okay like this?”

Joshua only nods, too engrossed in the way you look, so desperate, squirming against him like this. He can’t help himself, hand reaching up under the hoodie to grope at your left breast. He pinches your nipple and you twitch, whining. You’re sensitive here too.

“Keep that going.” Jeonghan rasps, pulling your legs open wider and shuffling closer. He tugs you down a little until your head is resting on Joshua’s lap. “The harder she cums, the longer her heat breaks for later.”

When Jeonghan sinks into you, your jaw goes slack, your moan nearly pornographic. His cock is glorious, long and curved up at just the right angle. Your walls open up for him eagerly, sucking him in until he’s flush against your hips. When he moans, it’s deep and reverberating, and the thought that this is pleasurable for him only turns you on even more, if that’s even possible. You’re already on the cusp of cumming, and you manage to gasp that out when Jeonghan pulls back and thrusts into you for the first time.

“Don’t you dare.” He responds, voice torn and choppy as he starts fucking you hard, his cock hitting deep inside you, the tip just barely brushing your cervix. You cry out. It feels so good, especially after you’ve been wanting it for so long. Joshua’s hands, that have now tugged the hoodie up further to tuck it above your chest, are playing with your nipples, brushing over them, pinching and pulling with the pressure he knows you like. You sob.

“Please. I can’t- can’t hold it.”

Jeonghan reaches a hand up, wrapping it around your throat. He doesn’t apply pressure, that’s not what this is for. He does it so your eyes will open wide, so you’ll look at him when he says his next words.

“You will cum when I tell you to cum. Understand?”

You nod furiously, his thrusts not faltering for a single second. You don’t know if you can even follow through, not with the way he’s destroying your insides, not with the way he moans so deliciously above you, long dark hair obstructing half his face so you can only see his pink, plump lips. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and you can’t deny the urge anymore. You reach up the grip the sides of his head, pulling him down into a heated kiss.

He moans into your mouth, slamming his hips hard into yours. You can feel the swell at the base of his cock. Your toes curl in anticipation as it catches on your hole. You’re clenched so tightly, anything to hold your orgasm at bay until he gives you permission to let go. Jeonghan pulls away just enough to speak, his lips still moving against yours.

“Cum.”

You black out with it.

It’s so intense that your senses dull. You can’t hear anything except the roaring in your ears. You feel his cock swell rapidly, locking inside your gummy pussy, followed by warmth as he deposits rope after rope of his cum in you. It makes you feel so full, like a fantastic meal after doing hard labor all day. Your body twitches and jerks, eyes rolling up at the feeling of it.

You don’t even remember when you come down from your orgasm. When you open your eyes next, you’re wrapped up tightly in a blanket, feeling much cooler than before, considering how hot your body was burning previously. You feel cleaner too, like you do after Joshua is done with his aftercare of you. You blink heavily, eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s no one there.

Your eyelids feel heavy, and you feel comfortable after many days of just discomfort. You got your knot. You can finally rest. You don’t stop yourself from drifting off into dreamland again.

……………………………….

Joshua eyes the pot on the stove, watching the liquid inside gently boil. The kitchen is rich with the aroma, and he should be proud of how well he’s nailed it, but right now, his mind is elsewhere entirely.

He snaps out of it when he hears shuffling behind him, turning his head to see a freshly showered Jeonghan walk into the kitchen. He gives Joshua a smile, which is a bit stiff to return, but he does it anyway.

He can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on the back of his head as the latter sits down on the stool next to the kitchen island. After a small silence, Jeonghan finally speaks.

“You okay?”

Joshua nods. “I’m fine. This is just….. a lot to take in.”

Jeonghan sighs. “I understand that. I just want you to know, Shuji. She’s your wife. None of this means anything.”

Joshua only nods, busying himself with stirring the pot so he doesn’t have to look back at his friend. He can’t.

How does he explain to Jeonghan that this might not mean anything to him, but it scares him that this just might mean something to you?

More importantly, and even more scary to the point that it panics him, how can he come to terms with the fact that watching you with Jeonghan didn’t feel…… wrong? It didn’t feel right, by any means. But Joshua had built up in his head that it would be extremely difficult to deal with when Jeonghan is actually there for your heat. But it wasn’t. Joshua was in the room. He was turned on, shamefully so. He watched you take Jeonghan’s knot. And yet……

He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and takes in a deep breath. He can’t do this. This isn’t about him. You’re smack in the middle of your heat right now. You’re so vulnerable. He needs to lock his shit away for the next few days, maybe forever. You can’t know how sick he is, how depraved this makes him feel. You can’t.

Behind Joshua’s back, Jeonghan is still watching, eyes a little too knowing, a little too perceptive.

🏷️: @picheolin-17 , @lovelylonelinesssvt , @scarlettveemin , @shad0wcast , @iluvhosh , @littlebluhellfire , @jimzk , @lucis-noctiana , @hannieweee , @xh01bri , @ilseamamuchoamingyu , @bleudandelion , @huihye , @markoplolo , @moondustmemories , @kaitieskidmore97 , @hocidust , @missaoki , @cheolwoo , @isaltedcarameows , @huiimoon , @tranquillitysoul , @missingjeonghan , @weasleytwins-41 , @igetcarriedawaywithyou , @ateez-atiny380 , @piratekingateez2001 , @kpetts , @k4trinabluu , @sunnysidesins , @embrace-themagic , @okdenmepolinoiazei , @escoupsue , @h0neygloww , @hxsxxk-180294 , @wxnderingthoughts , @meanieislife , @jiminie-08 , @w0nw0es , @lostinfakescenarios , @secret1234505 , @lostminni , @redemptions , @haoxiaoba , @mortallyblueninja , @ray-of-sunshine , @junnhuisworld , @gojominn , @sunnysidesins , @peachy-writings

[nightshao]

i can’t do this, ughh just me and my love for omegaverse aus!! i live for joshua and oc’s relationship 😭

[haologram]

sweetness ᝰ k.mg [m]

— synopsis: you're alone in the woods following the tail-end of a very bad live-action rendition of the walking dead and you're in jeans of all things: but welcome to kim mingyu's early post-apocalyptic guide to falling in love. in three days, no less! – genre: strangers to ??? ; post-apocalyptic au (think very, very early post-apocalypse) ; angst, fluff, mild smut. — pairing: architect!kim mingyu x fem!reader – word count: 42.1k — rating: 18+. minors do not interact. – warnings: swearing. mentions of zombies, though it's really not that serious or pertinent to the plot once they start spending time together. mentions of death, porn, wattpad...and essentially, they're fucking stupid. smut warnings: virgin!reader (so essentially mildly unrealistic but i do what i want) ; mingyu consent king because i said so, unprotected sex (it's the apocalypse where are they gonna find rubbers??), mild choking (f.rec), clit play, 'just the tip' (was not just the tip), fingering (f.rec), brief oral (f.rec), jokes during sex because i can't be serious to save my life, dirty talk, begging?, creampie (ew!!), pet names (baby, sweetness, slut (whoops)) and i think that's about it. — what to listen to: sweetness - elliot james reay ; my kind of woman - mac demarco ; remedy - adele ; piece of my heart - janice joplin ; love at first sight - kylie minogue ; anyone - seventeen. – author's note: welcome back to haologram. i want to preface that i don't know jackshit about zombie apocalypses but i know a lot about camping and angst! apologies for any typos, and thank you to @aeristudios for beta-ing this before i put in the smut (i am a woman of many talents, but smut is not one of them!) as always, thank you to @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr for these daisy dividers & this behemoth is dedicated to none other than @gyuswhore. to emberly: happiest birthday & congratulations on your graduation. i love you eternally. ♡

YOU HAVE NEVER KISSED A BOY. 

It’s the only thing that crosses your mind as you sit in the middle of the forest, your hands covered in wild blackberry juice and blood from a gash on your palm, cause of the thorns. It sounds stupid, for that to be the thought that crosses your mind – but it means something to you. 

You run your tongue over the gash, the metallic taste of blood mixing with the sweetness of the berry juice in a gross cocktail on the back of your tongue. 

It was one of your hidden secrets. 

One you talked about only to your pillow, not even bothering to waste precious gel ink on confessing it into your journal. You hid behind your hair in classes; you barely spoke up at your part-time job – letting your hands do the talking. You spent your hard-earned pennies on cool lip gloss: sparkly, shimmery, sticky and smelling of berries, vanilla, even mint. You were meant for more, you thought – your life couldn’t be all studying and entitled customers demanding half off their service. 

You kept to yourself, and you had been close with two people: Lee Jian and Jang Jieun. Your best friends all through high school and college, glued at the hips like gum to shoes. They, too, knew of your lack of...boy kissing. Jieun had dated Jian’s cousin Hyunjin for three years before they broke up when he went abroad, and Jian had dated around through most of college – so neither of them had this problem. 

And now, as the world continued to crumble around you, neither would you – it was unlikely. Eventually, almost surely – you would also succumb to the brain-melting that turned you into one of those undead things. Rotting, your flesh practically falling off the bone as you lost all sense of coordination and eventually, hopefully, got taken out by one of the surviving, merciful humans. 

You lean your head back, scrunching your nose as your hair gets caught in the rough bark of the oak tree. You don’t bother complaining as you straighten again, rummaging through your backpack limply when you hear the familiar crunch of twigs. Your uninjured hand freezes, your shoulders tense as you peer over the edge of the ratty brown JanSport bag. 

If it was slow, you could easily outrun it. You could climb one of the trees, you could kill it from a distance— 

Your breath hitches as the rustling stops, and you look up through your lashes to see a very tall man looking down at you. He doesn’t look like he’s running; rather, walking – donning nice olive-green cargo shorts, a brown t-shirt paired with well-loved hiking boots and thick white socks. He wears a black watch that blinks 3:32 PM, and a silver chain peeks out from the collar of his shirt. Your fingers tighten inside the bag as you see him adjust the white cap on his head, and he raises a brow at you. 

“It’s kind of counterproductive to hold a knife in your hand if you’re just going to...sit there.” 

You glance down – your hand is gripping a red box cutter you’d taken from an abandoned warehouse you slept in a few weeks back. It had been a solace for a few days, until you heard the familiar chittering of the stupid, rotting bodies surrounding the building. You bolted out, leaving behind a rather large stockpile of bread and water – but you were alive, and you didn’t care. 

Your bag was almost empty now; aside from the box cutter, some rope, a jar of honey you were almost too frugal with, half a sleeve of crackers, an extra pair of ratty socks and underwear, an unscented bar of soap... 

And a stupid, unused tube of sparkly lip gloss that smelled like sickly sweet bubblegum. You didn’t even have a bra, the one you left with stolen by a fucking raccoon of all things. 

“Are you hurt?” 

His eyes are probing, and you remain silent as you nod slowly. 

“Can you show me? I have—”  “Do you have any food?” 

His eyes glimmer with amusement as he nods, and he tugs the packed rucksack off before crouching next to you. You push your own bag out of the way, pressing both your hands into your dirty jeans as you peer over the opening. The bag holds a netted pouch of oranges, apples and carrots, and there are tons of scattered plastic sandwich bags – not holding sandwiches, but what seemed to be dehydrated meals. Your eyes widen at the three biggest bottles of water you’d seen in weeks, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow. You’d run out the day before, hardly wanting to risk it with the streams. 

“Can I—”  “Let me see where you’re injured, first. And we can wash your hands, too.” 

You huff, sitting up on your knees and showing him your bleeding palm. The gash is still trickling, and he shakes his head as he fishes out a plastic first aid kit. You furrow your brow, watching as he pops it open to reveal it freshly stocked – and you move back slightly, eyes narrow. 

“Where are you getting all this stuff from?” 

He shrugs, “my family has a cabin in these woods. About a hundred miles north, give or take a few detours. But they’re gone, so. Yeah.” 

Your heart sinks a bit for the too-friendly stranger, but you don’t let it tug too hard. 

“...So, what are you doing out here? If you have shelter, I mean?”  “Looking for people to take back. You seem...alive. No undead freaks try to eat your brain yet?” 

You try not to look offended at his questioning of your consciousness, but you can’t find it within yourself to say anything as he carefully pops open a bottle of antiseptic. He holds his hand out for yours, your eyes running over the healed calluses on his palms. You’re not as wary as you normally are and it worries you, but you place your own hand palm-up in his with a restrained tremble. 

He’s cool to the touch. Almost as though he’d just run his hands through a stream, or the less possible option (for you, at least) — a nice, cold bath. 

“How long have you been on your own?” He asks, and you’re easily distracted from the sting of antiseptic by his conversation. You shrug, watching the dirt and blood and sticky berry juice melt away as he wipes at your hand with a pinch in his brow. 

“Since the beginning,” you mutter, your chest tight at the acknowledgement. Jieun and Jian had been amongst the first to go, and you’d narrowly escaped their attempt at infecting you by climbing out the window of your shared apartment after barricading your bedroom door. The entire ordeal had been so terrifying that you didn’t really remember it, much less how they got infected – but it wasn’t like you could do anything now. 

You’d been on high alert since – your muscles tense as you prowled the streets alone. Your phone had been long dead, tucked in the very bottom of your bag. You tried payphones, but you grew more and more fearful of any sounds in your vicinity. The city was seemingly abandoned at that point; the chitter of the undead was the only thing you could hear for miles – and you missed the cicadas. 

The man frowns, nodding as he smears a thick gel onto your palm. A roll of bandage is rummaged out of the bottom of his bag, and he carefully wraps your hand before tearing the end with his teeth and tucking it in place. 

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” He mumbles, shoving the kit back into his bag. You shake your head eagerly, and he smiles inwardly before pulling out one of the bottles of water. He uncaps it for you, the click of a new bottle soothing to your ears. “Careful, you’ll throw it up if you drink too fast.” 

You take the bottle gingerly, holding it awkwardly as you drink. It’s smooth down your dry throat, your eyes fluttering shut as you slump slightly against the oak tree. He chuckles softly, and you hold the bottle to your chest tightly with a pout on your lips. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve needed that.”  “You also need a bath—”  “Will you shut up? I’m already down, don’t kick me anymore.” 

He snickers, reaching into the rucksack and retrieving several bags. 

“You have a name?” 

“Obviously,” your tone is uninterested; eyes fixed on the bags in his hands. He glances up, wiggling his fingers to get your attention. You tongue your cheek as he tilts his head. 

“Well, what is it?”  “What’s it to you, guy?” 

You bite back a grin as he snorts, “cute. Fine, have your secrets.” 

He holds up a bag, “this is something you can just soak in the water. It’ll be cold but it’s a meal, there’s rice—” 

“That’s great and all, but I do not care. I’ve been surviving off berries, honey and a sleeve of crackers for three days. Just give it to me, please.” You hold your hand out, your exhaustion settling on your shoulders, making his eyes soften. He fishes out a thermos from his bag, placing it in your hand. You unscrew the top, warmth floating up to your face as you sniff it – your eyes never leaving him as he provides a spoon. 

“Porridge. It’s plain, but—” 

You don’t bother listening, your hand reaching into your bag and pulling out the honey jar. You take the spoon and shove it into the porridge, before thrusting the honey into his hands, open, please.” 

You kneel closer to his bag as he pops the lid, your fingers wiggling through the netted bag and prying an apple out through the opening. Wiping it across your shirt, you sink your teeth into it and take a bite, holding it in your mouth before grabbing the now-open jar of honey from his hand and carefully tilting it into the thermos. A soft drip of nature’s gold swirls into the porridge, and you stir it in carefully before taking the apple between your fingers to spoon some into your mouth. It’s warm and sweet with the crunch of the apple, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as you lean your head back against the rough bark of the tree again. Your eyes close as you chew, a hot tear streaming down your cheek that you wipe away haphazardly, before practically inhaling the porridge as though it were your first meal ever. 

Which...it kind of is, but that’s none of his business. 

The guy just coos, watching you eat as he carefully repacks his bag and you adjust to fold your legs beneath you. The apple core is held between two of your fingers; the large bites subsiding as you scrape the bottom of the thermos for the last bit of porridge. He smiles inwardly, shaking his head as he holds his hand out for the items. He smiles inwardly, shaking his head as he holds his hand out for the thermos and spoon. You shovel the last bite into your cheek, coughing slightly around the last chunk of apple in your mouth as he screws the lid back onto the dish and shoves it to the bottom of his bag. 

“Feel better?” He leans back on his hands, and you swallow hard around the porridge before reaching for the bottle of water. He takes it before you can, unscrewing the top and you mutter something adjacent to a thanks before carefully taking a sip. You hiccup slightly but fix your posture once more to sit with your back against the tree trunk. 

“I missed hot food.” You admit, watching his hand spin the lid back onto your jar of honey. He slides it back into your bag, and you pull the ratty thing to your chest and look over at him. “Thanks for...helping me out. Uh, you didn’t have to.” 

“Oh, it’s no problem.”  “You should get going. I’m sure someone else could need your help, too.” 

He snorts, shaking his head, “I’m on my way up to the cabin. I don’t know how I missed you on the way down, but there is literally no one else in these woods aside from the occasional bear and deer. Have you ever had deer? Delicious.” 

“No, I haven’t had deer. Are you always this talkative with strangers? Don’t you worry—” You cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes as you scoot back slightly, “aren’t you worried about stranger danger?” 

“Stranger danger became a thing of the past when that loser in those downtown chemistry labs released that stupid experiment upon the general public. If you were so worried about me, you wouldn’t have eaten the porridge, drank the water, or let me bandage you up.” He shrugs, before giving you a pointed look, “you’re injured, hungry, in jeans of all things and you’re lost.” 

“I am not lost.” You huff, and he raises a brow as he speaks, “yeah? Which way is North?” 

“That way.”  “That’s left, my friend.”  “And it’s about time you do just that, guy. I am not your friend, either.” 

“You’re quick with it. I like that.” He laughs, before gesturing at the bottle in your lap. “You can keep that, and we can refill it along the way.” 

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere—”  “Again, you’re hungry, you’re lost and you’re dirty. I have food, I know this place like the back of my hand, and we can get you a nice bath if you just chill out.” 

“Did you just call me uptight?” You scoff, crossing your arms as he bites back a smile, shrugging one shoulder as he zips his bag closed, hiking it over the other and standing carefully. He dusts his hands of debris, giving you a lopsided smirk. 

“I said no such thing.” 

“You implied it.” You hop to your feet, and he only smiles down at you. The warmth in it makes your stomach settle slightly, but your brows remain furrowed as he leans down and picks your bag up by the strap. He hitches it over the same shoulder holding his own, before moving forward. 

“Come on, stinky. We’ll get you cleaned up, and you can joint he rest of the people I’ve found at the cabin.”  “I do not stink! How dare you—”  “Come on, princess. There’s a spring deeper in the forest. When was the last time you took a bath?” 

You reluctantly follow behind him, your fingers gripping the water bottle before he takes it and tucked it into the netted pocket of his rucksack. You tongue your cheek, wrapping your arms around yourself and tucking your fingertips under your sleeves as a breeze blows softly. Autumn would set in soon, and maybe the end of the despair, too. 

“Did you hear me?” He prods, and you kick a patch of grass behind his boot. He snickers, swatting his hand behind him and brushing your elbow. You smack the heel of his hand, his fingers pulling your fingertips before you twist them out of his hold. 

“Three days ago. I finished the last of my water cleaning myself up, I don’t trust the streams.” You mutter, wrapping your arms around you tighter as you move to his side. He bumps his hip to yours with purpose, and you spare him a glance to see his soft smile. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m clean.” 

“I’m not some weirdo, you know. I know these woods, and I wouldn’t put you in danger. You have to have some inkling of that, too, because you’re following me.” He raises his brows at you, and you only roll your eyes, kicking more twigs and pebbles. 

“Yeah, right. I don’t even know your name, guy.”  “Well, it’s—” 

You throw your hand up, the bandaged injury brushing his shoulder as you shake your head. 

"Don't tell me. You'll get attached and I fly solo."  "…Right. Totally, princess. There's a spring this way—"  "Stop calling me that!" 

"Well, it's not like I know your name, right?" He smiles cheekily, and you bite your tongue as you move ahead of him. Your back is damp from sweating in the sticky August afternoon, but you hold your head high as you keep trudging forward. This guy seemingly took pleasure in bugging you like his life depended on it; granted, you'd been in these woods for almost a month and a half and hadn't seen another living soul…you can't really blame him. 

But because you'd been alone for so long, you also couldn't really blame yourself for not wanting to get attached. Who knew what lingered in these woods — bears, mountain lions…more of the undead, and creepy crawlers that would kill you without a second thought. All you could do was hope that he wasn't one of those. 

"So," He starts, and you almost want to punch him in the face as you curl your fingers into your palms and tuck them under your armpits. He only chuckles at the visual, "what did you do before the world started crumbling?" 

"I was an architecture student with a focus on interior design. Three months from graduation and with a first-class ticket to to Germany where I scored a major internship." You grouse, your eyes still glued to the forest floor. You kick a bigger rock out of your way with the tip of your canvas sneakers, "I was top of my class. My models were outstanding. I was displayed all over my professor's lecture hall. I would've been great. God, I would've been so fucking great. Stupid outbreak." 

"Isn't surviving on your own for this long also something you could consider greatness?" He questions you carefully, almost as though you're a ticking bomb with no timer. You only shrug. 

"That just means you're great, too."  "You don't think I'm great?"  "I think you're annoying. God, is this spring actually close or are you just gonna lead me down some ridiculous winding path?" 

He snorts, his fingers cool against your skin as he carefully tilts your face to the left. The spring is down the hill, seemingly man-made and lined with big boulders. Your eyes widen, and you swat his hand away as you make your way down. He follows closely behind, your excited cheers being heard all throughout the woods as you slide down the hill, crouching on one of the boulders and sticking your hands into the flowing water. The water is slightly warm from the high sun but refreshing to the touch as you press your wet fingers against your neck, a sigh slipping from your throat as you dip them below the collar of your shirt. 

"God, that's good." The sigh of relief from your lips must be amusing, because you hear a soft chuckle from the top of the hill. You quickly untie your shoes, ripping them off your feet and stuffing your socks into them. You dip your feet in, sore and blistered from days of walking as he slides down the hill. 

"You should…take a dip. I can wash your clothes down the stream." 

You scoff, "that's vulgar. A stranger washing my intimates? Please." 

"You can wash your pink panties yourself, princess. I'm talking about your shirt and jeans. I have a change, if you want it." He rolls his eyes, tugging at hem of your shirt over the belt loops of your jeans. You swat his hand away, "go away! I can wash my own clothes! And I have a change, too!" 

"Whatever you say, princess. I'll be down this way…enjoy. Holler if you need me." He shrugs, standing abruptly as you scoff inwardly. You cross your arms as he crunches leaves and twigs beneath his heavy boots, and you nibble on your lip as you stare at the water. A groan leaves your lips. 

"Are you sure this water's safe!?" You call out, hearing an annoying chuckle from a few feet away. 

"Do you want me to get in with you, princess?" 

"Ugh, men." You grumble, tonguing your cheek as you stare at the water. You weren't a camper or anything, and your family never frequented hiking trails or the great outdoors all that often…but if he fed you, and he led you there, and he had experience in these woods…he had to know something, right? 

Hesitantly, you peek over the boulders to see him holding a rag in his hand, his bag still hitched over his shoulder as he plucked berries skillfully from a bush. Blackberries, you think — but not too much as you strip yourself of your top and jeans, folding them neatly on one of the boulders before glancing over your shoulder again. He's kneeling now, still carefully sorting through brambles and thumbing berries as you cross your arms around your chest, ignoring the heat radiating off your cheeks as you remember that your underwear is in fact, pink, and only turning darker as the water soaks into it. 

You're not gonna let a man you don't know see your intimates! 

You wade into the water, cool against your skin as you reach about neck deep. A sigh falls from your lips as you lean your hair back into the water, refreshing against your scalp. Your eyes are closed as you swim through the water, working away the ache in your shoulders from your backpack straps being too tight.  

"Feels good, huh?"  

Your eyes immediately fly open, your arms wrapping around your chest as you look up to see the guy setting his bag down…with his eyes closed. He's set down the berries on the boulder where your clothes are, but they're not blackberries. They're red, and kind of enticing as you try your best to quietly swim over. You lift yourself up slightly, covering your chest with your arms still as you touch one with your wet hand. 

"What are these?" You pick one up, piercing the flesh cell with your fingernail as he shrugs, eyes still closed as he expertly digs through his rucksack. You throw the berry at him, hitting him square in the chest and making him tongue his cheek as he shakes his head. 

"Thimbleberries. You can eat some if you want, they're pretty good. I use the bark to make soap, which is what I'm going to give you here in a second."  

"Bark to make soap? Incredible." You murmur, eyeing the berry in your hand. You run it under the water, wiping at the flesh carefully with the pad of your thumb before taking a tentative nip. The juice is sweet in the forefront of your mouth but tart on the back of your tongue, a hum from your throat catching his attention. 

"Good? I like it as spread. Sometimes we make wine back at the cabin, or those fruit leather strips." He nods, eyes still closed as you throw another berry at him. "Stop that! You're wasting berries and I worked hard to pick those!" 

"Open your eyes, dude. You can't see anything from where you are." You roll your eyes, and he lets out a huff as he tentatively peels open one eye. You give him a pointed look, holding out one of the washed berries as he pouts, plucking it from your fingers and stuffing it into his cheek as he speaks. 

"I'm just trying to be respectful."  "And I appreciate that, but I'm sure you've seen boobs before." 

He rolls his eyes, "that's not the point." 

"The point, guy, is that I don't care. You've seen boobs and it's not like you're gonna do anything to me, so what the hell. We can be adults about this." You shrug, shoveling another berry into your mouth. "Now, what's this bark soap shit you're talking about? How does that work?" 

"You've warmed up to me really quickly, haven't you?"  "The worst you could do is kill me. You don't have the guts, and I'm faster than you."  

Your voice is confident as you take more berries in your hand, making him shake his head in amusement as he digs into the bag one more time. A flash crosses his eyes, and he pulls his hand out to reveal a small bottle with a pink cap.  

"Here it is!" He holds it out to you, popping the cap to waft the smell into your face. You crinkle your nose, backing up slightly when he rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on! It smells nice!" 

"It smells like eucalyptus and despair, and I can taste it. I hate that, bleugh." You make a disgusted face as you bite into another berry to erase the scent from your palate, and he frowns.  

"It's either eucalyptus and despair or you stink for the next two days."  "I do not stink!" 

He snorts, and you reluctantly hold your hand out for it. He drops it into your palm, "I wouldn't recommend…being in the spring while you wash. You'll contaminate it." 

"So what do you suggest I do, genius? Give myself a little sponge bath?" You scoff, only for him to nod as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You give him a deadpan look, slapping the boulder beneath your arms. "How the hell would I do that?" 

"Uh, you step out and scrub yourself with a washcloth, then rinse until you're clean? The point of hiking is to enjoy nature while preserving it, princess."  "This is surviving, guy. Not hiking for fun!" 

"Still. You may be faster but I'm stronger and I have no problem fishing you out myself." He shrugs, and you suck your teeth as you stare up at him. He doesn't budge, his eyes stern as he gestures you to get out. 

"I don't like you, guy." You mutter, and he only snickers as you make your way to a lower boulder to pull yourself out. He looks away, digging in his bag quickly before pulling out a soft washcloth and handing it to you blindly. You snatch it out of his hand as you pull yourself onto the boulder, making a wet plop sound as you sit on the edge. 

"I'll…give you some privacy. Just give me—"  "A holler, yeah. Scram, guy." 

He does just that. You do as you're told, peeling your soaked underwear off and scrubbing yourself silly with the stinky soap and washcloth— unfortunately, feeling a lot cleaner than you had in months. Your scalp tingles as you haphazardly scrub the soap into it, and you feel almost insane as you keep looking over your shoulder to see him nowhere to be found. You rinse yourself off with the bottle of water he'd given you, glancing over to see he's left his rucksack and your backpack next to you. You grab yours, fishing out the pair of clean underwear and pulling it over your legs before ringing your hair out. 

"Uh, hey, guy? Do you have a shirt in this thing?" You call out, glancing over your shoulder to see him jerk his head up from under the berry brambles. He quickly shuts his eyes as you cover your chest, your cheeks warming as he stutters. 

"Y-Yeah, yep! Uh, just…dig around!" 

You do just that, holding your arm over your chest as you root in the bag, pulling a brown shirt out and quickly pulling it over your head. You dip your feet back into the spring, "Thanks, I got it! We're good!" 

"Great, great." He stumbles back over, holding the rag of berries in his hand before clearing his throat. "Are you…you're not gonna walk around like that, are you?" 

"Well, I was kind of hoping to wash my clothes and just…lay here until dusk. Then…fall asleep in a tree or something." You shift, and you glance over to see him trying to hold in either a fart or laughter. You guess the latter as a smile breaks through, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he turns his face away. 

He clears his throat, letting out a suspicious cough as you narrow your eyes. 

"You're laughing at me."  "I'm not, promise."  "You're a liar." 

He lets out a breath, corners of his lips upturning involuntarily as he smooths his shorts with his hands. "I am not. You're just…funny." 

"So you are laughing!" 

"This is bear country, sweetness." He manages, clearing his throat again and fighting back his smile. "We can't stay here. Bears climb trees, bears maul you, then you're dead before the world's back in order. Wouldn't want you to miss that internship." 

"Yeah right, internship's as dead and gone as any idea of society rebuilding itself after this. At this point we'll have to repopulate—" You cut yourself off, looking at him to see his eyes wide and cheeks red from the hot sun. "Uh…I just don't have very high hopes for that. So, I'm just going to take it day by day, I guess. If I die, then I die." 

"Except you won't, because you have me! So, get up. There's a cave we can camp in around here, trust." He rolls his eyes, flipping through his rucksack before producing a pair of shorts and holding them out to you. "…Seriously, you're not gonna walk around in your underwear, right? You'll get eaten alive by the mosquitoes." 

"Not true, guy. The DCA—"  "You wanna trust the DCA right now?" 

He gives you a look of disbelief, and you shrug.  

"A study in 2014—"  "That was a decade ago, sweetheart."  "I'm not your sweetheart, and who cares? Eucalyptus oil was approved as an effective mosquito repellent. If I get bit, I'll put my jeans back on. Not a big deal." 

"What if that virus is zoonotic?" He argues, shaking the shorts in his hands as a way to emphasize his point. You raise a brow, crossing your arms as you jut your hip out. 

"This ass is hypnotic, so at least I'll die knowing I gave it my all."  "I have another pair, just put them on. You're not being serious right now." 

"Take a look if you want, pervert." You scoff, before crouching to gather your dirty clothes. You stuff them into your bag, before peeling your socks out of your shoes with a discontented sigh. There's a hole in the toe, but the other socks have suffered the same fate. You sit on the boulder to pull them over your feet anyway, before his hand wraps around your ankle and he snatches it out of your hand. 

"Stinky, worn thin and one, two, three holes. Good grief, princess." He mutters, tossing it onto your lap before grabbing a fresh pair and a little box from his rucksack. You have half a mind to pull your leg away, but something about the cool feeling of his fingers around your hot skin makes you sit still as he cracks the box open. "These are moleskin bandages. We'll change them every night, because your shoes are horrible for this." 

He touches the side of your pinky toe, hearing you hiss before examining the sole of your foot with a frown. He pads at it with his thumb, tonguing his cheek as he sets it on his knee to look at the other. 

"You'll need insoles. I'll have to see what size boot you wear when we get back to the cabin, these are no good." He reaches over to grab your sneaker, peeking inside to see the soles worn and thin. He shakes his head, "maybe I should just carry you. This really won't do." 

"I'm not a baby." You spit back, and his hand on your foot squeezes, making you wince. You kick him gently, only for him to pop your toes with one hand as you squirm. 

"Not a baby, my ass." He moves to tend to your foot silently, even reaching into his bag several times for different ointments and oils before your feet are covered in slivers of moleskin bandages. He shoves the socks on, rolling the ankles as you realize how thick they are. He puts your shoes on for you, double-knotting the laces before glancing at the shorts. 

"You sure you don't want them?"  "Good God, man. If it makes you feel better, I'll wear your stupid shorts." 

"Well, now I don't want to give them to you." He sniffs, grabbing the shorts by the pocket as you loop your fingers into the waistband. "My shorts are not stupid." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, shorts. I'm so sorry your owner is restricting—"  "Shut up!" 

"Good, now you know how annoying you are." You suck your teeth, yanking the shorts out of his hand and pulling them over your legs quickly. You tuck the drawstring until they're snug, before standing and pulling your backpack over your shoulder. "Now, move it, guy. I'm tired and I want to rest without feeling like I'm gonna die." 

You shove past him, marching off with no direction as he snorts behind you. You hear him behind you; the rustle of his bag being thrown over his shoulder. You keep walking aimlessly, before crossing your arms on your chest and talking over your shoulder. 

"What did you do before the world decided to end?"  "I thought you said you didn't wanna get attached, princess?" 

You scoff, "yeah, that's why you don't need to know my name. That's how people keep stray animals, you know. They say they'll only take care of them until they're healthy, then they name the thing and suddenly that animal is getting scraps off the table and it sleeps at the foot of the bed." 

He chuckles, his stride lengthening to end up next to you. He tilts you slightly to the left, to a different pathway than your original wandering.  

"That's a good point, I guess. But like animals, people are won over by personalities. We could have things in common, shared experiences and the like." 

"I doubt you and I have anything in common, guy." You quip, shaking your head and feeling your damp hair brushing your neck. You swipe it back, behind your ears as he hums.  

"You sure?"  "I won't like you anyway. You're annoying and invasive, you know that?"  "Annoying and invasive got you clean, fed, and is now finding you a place to sleep. I'd watch that mouth if I were you." 

You don't like the way your stomach flutters at his tone, but you scoff anyway. 

"Throwing it in my face only shows you're doing it to make yourself the good guy."  "Or it's me reminding you that you don't know me, and I don't have to do this."  "See my previous statement, guy." 

He only clicks his tongue, shoving his hands in his back pockets as he shrugs. 

"So what did you do? Were you always a professional loser?" You loll your head back, looking up at him as he runs his tongue over his lip. 

"You're mean, you know that?"  "You'll learn to like it."  "No doubt about that, princess." 

He pushes you behind him as he steps in front of you, a rockier path leading downwards appearing a few feet ahead. He reaches back, his fingers brushing your hip before you instinctively give him your hand. He grips it carefully, his other hand reaching back to hold your hip as he leads you down the unstable terrain. 

"I was an architect with a Master's degree in interior design. I completed my degrees in three years because I was an overachiever, but that got me chances to design three buildings downtown and a few apartment buildings in the outskirts. I was working on a house before the outbreak started." His voice is straight, almost a bit solemn as he kicks a few rocks out of the way. "It was for my family, but you know how the wind blows." 

You feel your chest tight as you reach the bottom of the terrain, his hand slipping off your hip, but you don't let his hand go as he moves to pull it away. He glances down at you, and you clear your throat as you drop his hand, rubbing your palm on the back of your shorts.  

"I'm sorry for your loss…guy."  "Life goes on, princess." 

You hate the way your heart sinks as he shrugs, before his hands tilt your shoulders to the right. You force one foot in front of the other, clearing your throat again and staring up at the trees surrounding you. 

"How do you feel about mahogany?" You blurt, tucking your hands behind your back as he carefully maneuvers your shoulders to move you in certain directions. He snorts, "mahogany? The wood?" 

"Yeah. Let's have a conversation."  "You feel bad now, don't ya?"  "Never fucking mind." 

His laugh is full bellied as you stalk forward exaggeratedly, your shoes kicking pebbles and twigs out of the way as you worm your way along. He catches up to you in two quick strides, the heel of his boot nudging the back of your sneaker as you stop to climb over a fallen log. 

"Stop that!"  "I like mahogany, but mostly for flooring, staircases and doors. Not so much for anything that's eye level or above, I think it's too heavy. It's too rich of a color to be so high, I think." 

You feel your lip twitch as you manage to get over the fallen log, crossing your arms defiantly as you glance over your shoulder to see him doing the same. 

"Hm."  "Disagree?"  "No." 

He smiles inwardly, but you quickly face forward once more as a clearing comes into view. Running water can be heard in the distance, and you try to walk confidently as the path becomes muddy. 

"How do you feel about…elm burl?" You try, any nonchalance escaping your throat as he hums next to you, his lips pursing as he shakes his head. 

"I love the patterns on it, but I don't think it's ethical to use it. It's so scarce and deforestation is a problem as it is, I can't imagine using it willynilly. Or willingly, actually. There are better materials."  

You blink up at him, your cheeks warming as he glances down at you. His brow raises, "what?" 

"Nothing."  "It's something. What, you like burl?" 

"No, I actually hate burl. I don't think it's worth the time it takes to harvest, and I don't like the fact that people think the scarcity makes it more beautiful. It feels superficial and it grosses me out when I see homes that have it because I just know they paid up the ass for it. I know it's a great wood for homes in terms of durability and even super moisture resistant but it's frustrating to see the ignorance go over people's heads." You huff, crossing your arms tighter as he nods slowly, a quick hum from his throat as you look away. 

"Sorry."  "No, I like it. You've got passion." 

"Whatever." You roll your eyes, feeling your ears grow hot as he scoffs, his hip bumping yours with purpose. You swat at him, his hand grabbing your wrist and pushing it away as he speaks. 

"It's good that you're like that! I knew so many people in the industry who didn't care. You don't know how frustrating it is…or maybe you do, depending on who you know." He grouses, his lip jutted out in a pout as you stop at the edge of the path. Lower is more muddy terrain, but you're too in awe of the beautiful waterfall to even care. 

"Woah." Your arms fall to your sides, your eyes wide as he stops next to you.  

"It's pretty, isn't it?"  "Will you judge me if I cry?"  "Yes." 

"You suck," you shove his arm lightly, before wrapping your fingers around the straps of your bag tightly. You watch the water flow, before feeling his hand on the back of your head. He turns it slowly, and you see a series of boulders leading up to the waterfall. 

"Wanna see it up close, princess?" 

You don't get a chance to respond as he takes your arm anyway, pulling you down the terrain and around the water. You try your best to keep up, carefully maneuvering over bigger rocks and shaking your arm out of his grasp, only for him to reach back again and you slide your hand into his.  

Like it's normal. 

Because it is. 

"Be careful, alright? These are slippery." He pulls you in front of him as the boulders appear in front of him, moving your hands to hold onto the dry edges. You wedge the tip of your shoes into the gathered rocks beneath it, and he grips your hips to hoist you up easily. 

And you ignore the stupid flutter in your stomach again, standing up straight and moving out of the way as he pulls himself up with ease. You flicker your eyes away from the bulge of his biceps against the fabric of his shirt, swallowing hard as you carefully make your way up the boulders.  

The spray of the waterfall is cooling against your warm skin, your eyes wide as you watch it cascade over the rocky ledge. You carefully put your bag down as he reaches your side, your fingers poking through the running water. You crouch down, running your fingers along the jagged edge of the platform you're standing on. 

"How'd you find this?" You voice is full of air, only to hear him hum behind you, the weight of his rucksack hitting the stone as he sets it down. You glance over your shoulder to see him staring at the water, head tilted to the side as he shrugs. 

"I found it on the way down, actually. It was pouring and I couldn't risk sleeping in one of the trees or in one of the tents. I used to play a game on Nintendo that had a world with a cavern behind a waterfall and when I saw this one, I looked around. The cavern, I mean, and there's no bears or anything. Lots of stalactite, though; it's pretty cool." He nods, looking down at you. You must look amused, because he scoffs. "What's so funny?" 

"You play Nintendo games?"  "I was a boy once! A teenager!" 

"What game was it? Super Mario Odyssey? The first world has a waterfall. Actually, a couple of them do, I think." You turn your attention back to the water, only to feel him crouch next to you. He wraps his arms around his knees, sticking one hand into the water as he clicks his tongue. 

"It was, actually. Nerd."  "No way, loser." 

"Way," he chuckles, pressing his wet fingers against his neck before carding them through his hair. "I'm gonna check out the cavern, make sure nothing's in there. I'll catch a fish or something and we can eat before we turn in for the night." 

"Oh, I'm not all that hungry—" Your lie is cut off by the grumble in your stomach, and you give an exaggerated cough to cover it up before he nudges you with his elbow. He has a knowing look on his face, rolling his eyes at you as he stands up straight. He turns on his heel, and you watch over your shoulder as he takes a flashlight out of the pocket of his bag. He clicks it on, whistling to himself as he ventures fearlessly into the cavern. 

You let your shoulders relax as he disappears, a breath falling from your lips as you sit on the ground. You tug your shoes off, tossing them to the side before laying on your back next to the water with your knees bent, crossing your arms on your chest. Closing your eyes, you let the anxiety of trusting a stranger seep out of your bones — because had he wanted to harm you…he would've done it already. 

Some people are good! 

Your nose burns as tears line your lashes, but you find an odd comfort in the sound of the waterfall paired with crickets you hadn't heard the entire time you were alone. Practicing vigilance, constantly being on edge…lack of sleep from almost falling off tree branches definitely left your body in fight or flight mode. You don't remember the last time you cried, either — likely even before the outbreak, if not the day you found out you got the internship in Germany. 

"Fuck," You mutter, covering your face as you remember the letter you left on your desk, the envelope practically shredded from your excited hands. You'd even bought a frame to hang it over your desk, but it had been left dismantled for days while you called everyone who knew, while you celebrated and recovered from the gnarliest hangover you'd ever had. And it stayed there, when you escaped your roommates by a hair and fucked off into the woods. 

Your mind races with what ifs.  

What if you hadn't gotten out? What if you'd come home later like you'd planned to, having been asked to dinner by one of your group mates to compare notes? What if you'd been more prepared — the university had done everything to keep the students calm, promising a safe, virus-free environment. You'd packed a bag haphazardly, anyway, leaving it propped on your windowsill should you ever need it. You practiced constant distancing, staying two feet or more away from anyone at all times.  

The outbreak at the University started with the football team. A nice boy named Jaehyun was in the wrong place at the wrong time, only to trail his way back onto campus during a tailgate and infect three other people before he was taken out by two cheerleaders with a crowbar. At least, that's how you remember it before you practically sprinted your way back to the dormitory, finding Jian and Jieun along the way and telling them what had happened. They immediately u-turned with you, and you all packed your bags that night. T-shirts, tank tops, underwear…snacks and water. 

Eventually, you'd be the only one to use yours. Shirts ripped from snagging on tree bark; snacks finished within three weeks of your escape. You rationed water so carefully that you were in a constant state of dehydration, until you found the stocked warehouse. There was only one person there, and she never spoke to you — ducking out of the facility within hours of your arrival. You gorged yourself on the bread and canned foods, spearing them open with your box cutter and drinking all the water you could reach for.  

Until that place was raided by those things, and you once more narrowly escaped. 

You'd been in the woods since. Alone, tired, hungry. Cold on some nights, having lost your only sweater to a tree branch tearing straight through it when you fell off. Your jeans were wearing thin, and the summer heat only made surviving all the harder — but for whatever reason, despite your pessimism, you couldn't bring yourself to give up. 

You were meant for more. 

"You alright?" 

His voice startles you, making you jolt up. You clear your throat, running your hand through your hair as you nod almost too quickly. 

"Yeah. Yep, fine. Is uh…are you good?" You curse yourself for stuttering, staring at the scar on your knee from when you fell off your scooter as a kid. He crouches down next to you again, facing you before you hear the click of the flashlight. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, his own glued to your face. 

"You're not a very good liar, you know that?” His voice is softer, but you scoff as you tilt away. 

"I'm a great liar, thank you."  "Tell me a lie right now."  "You're cute." 

You roll your eyes as he gapes, shoving your knee with the end of his flashlight. "You take that back! I'm very cute!" 

"Sure, guy." You snort, before tilting your head towards the rucksack. "Aren't you tired from carrying that thing? Don't you have like, shoulder pain? Shouldn't you lay down?" 

"Worried about my well-being, princess?" He teases, and you raise a brow at him, an almost disinterested look crossing your features as you nod. 

"Yeah, who else will lead to me safety? If you're exhausted, you'll make all sorts of mistakes—"  "It would actually kill you to be nice, wouldn't it?" 

His voice is still lighthearted, eyes warm as you turn to look at him. You run your eyes along his face, taking in his features before you blink slowly, meeting his eyes once more with a shrug of your shoulders. 

"It might, I don't know. I've never tried it."  "Might be a good time to start, pretty." 

"Shut up," you roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the ground and grabbing his flashlight. You tug your shoes on haphazardly as he snickers to himself, and you feel his eyes follow you as you flip the flashlight in your hand. You click it on, shining it into the cavern as he gets up to follow behind you. Your eyes widen as you flash the light up to the hanging stalactites, your lips parting with a soft woah. 

"Nice, isn't it?"  "Beautiful. It's shimmering, the salt. Do you see it?"  "It's even prettier when it's warmer light. We'll light a fire in here in a bit, you'll see." 

You nod, carefully trudging forward, "do you think any animals have ever lived here? Bats, even?" 

"If that were the case, I think we'd be surrounded by bat shit."  "Bat guano is actually very important for some cave-dwellers. Lots of animals eat it." 

"Taking the phrase 'eat shit' to another level, huh?" He makes a sound of disgust, only making you chuckle as you shake your head. 

"Well, the animals who eat it are inherently gross to the average person, anyway. They're detritivores, the bugs and stuff that eat it. They're eaten by spiders, and pseudoscorpions. Ever seen a pseudoscorpion? Cutest little dudes." 

He doesn't reply, making you glance over your shoulder to see him smiling inwardly as he looks at the ground. You narrow your eyes but move your attention to the pebbled floor beneath you. You run the light over it, seeing the toe of your shoe incredibly close to an otherwise blind pseudoscorpion. Your eyes widen as you crouch, your fingers gently pinching its round body as you turn to him. 

"Look! See? Pseudoscorpion; claws like a scorpion, but he's just a little guy." You smile widely, holding the light above the small arachnid. "Not dangerous to humans at all, either. Very helpful, they eat bugs and pests, which makes them…" 

You trail off as you notice how intently he's looking at you, his hands clasped in front of him. You clear your throat before quickly setting it down and watching it scurry away. "Anyway, uh. Yeah, so there was likely a bat colony here at some point. Maybe a couple big spiders, but they won't do anything to us if we don't bother them."  

You nod, pressing your lips into a thin line before turning on your heel and venturing deeper into the cave. 

"Why do you do that?" His voice rings out behind you, and you stop walking, glancing over your shoulder. 

"Huh?"  "Why do you stop yourself from talking about things you like? Or get embarrassed by it?" 

Your cheeks feel hot as you turn fully, but you keep a straight face as you tilt your head, opening your mouth to say something when you see him hold up the pseudoscorpion you'd put down. He holds it out to you, taking the flashlight from your hand and lowering the brightness to create a spotlight of sorts as you take the animal in your hand. He shines the light on your hand, eyes expectant and…warm. 

"They're…uh, so they're synanthropic, or synanthropes. Like raccoons, that means they're technically harmless to us, but they've developed in environments near humans for so long that they can benefit from us without being a bother. Generally, that is." You nod slowly, before gesturing at the spindly arms the arachnid is holding up. "Their pinchers have venom they use to subdue their prey, usually smaller bugs like ants or mites, but it's not enough to cause damage to a human. They also have spider-like silk glands in their jaws, which helps them stay safe during winters. There are more than four thousand species of these things." 

You clear your throat, "my father was an entomologist. He and I were really close before the outbreak, and he liked arachnids most. He was covered in tattoos of bugs, but he had one of these on his wrist for me, and he had a sequin spider on his chest and a peacock parachute on his arm for my mother. When I asked why I got this one, he said it was because I was half of him, and half of my mother; but that's a story for another day." 

Pressing your lips together, you carefully place the arachnid back on the ground, watching it pinch at a passing ant. You let a smile cross your face, before feeling the heat of his eyes on you. 

"I don't like bugs, personally." He starts, bringing the brightness back up on the flashlight and handing it to you. "I think my biggest fear is actually wasps." 

You nod, biting back a smile as you shrug, "wasps are the Devil incarnate, so I don't blame you. Such angry things." 

"Exactly! How is it my fault that I have to go outside? Should I just cease to exist for them?" He pouts, crossing his arms on his chest as you chuckle, tapping the flashlight against his arm before slipping past him.  

"Let's get outta here, I'm starting to feel itchy." You say, carefully maneuvering your way back out of the cavern with him hot on your heels. The air outside is sticky, warmer than inside the dark cave, but it's welcome as you flick off the flashlight. "I'm getting tired." 

"I'll get started on dinner, then." He nods, and you don't get a chance to say anything before he stops, looking at you over his shoulder, " and I'll listen to you any time. So just…talk, yeah?" 

Your eyes widen, but you can't reply as he makes his way down the boulders, pulling something shiny out of his pocket. You hear a click as he reaches the edge of the water, and you peer over the ledge to see him crouched, his hand stuffed in his pocket before pulling out a palm full of what looks like to be seeds. His eyes are concentrated as you lay on your belly, using your elbows to prop yourself up and watch him toss the seeds into the water.  

Almost instantly, the surface ripples with fish — a quick flick of his wrist pinning one of the poor fish in place on the rocky spring floor. The rest scatter, his jaw tight as he reaches into the water from the shore and plucks the fish out, pulling the knife out and rinsing it in the water. He clicks it closed, shoving it back into his pocket before laying the fish on one of the boulders.  

You watch him repeat the process twice, from different angles around the spring until he silently returns to the boulder with his pile. You keep watching as he examines the fish carefully, running his fingers over the scales and tosses one into the woods behind him with a tick in his jaw. He stills suddenly, looking around before meeting your eyes. The tips of his ears tinge pink as you blink at him, his voice clear as he speaks to you. 

"Are you just watching me?" 

You don't respond verbally, only nodding as a smile creeps onto your lips. He shakes his head, muttering to himself as he descales the fish quickly. Your eyes are low as fatigue begins to sink into your bones, before you hear his voice again. 

"You're real pretty up there, but you'd be prettier if you gathered some wood. Hop to, princess." He calls, using his knife to gesture around himself. You scowl as he looks up, a toothy grin on display as he waves you down. "I can't have you falling asleep just yet, you'll miss dinner. Come on." 

Scoffing, you ignore the heat in your cheeks as you push yourself off the ledge, carefully making your way down the boulders. You land on the ground with a crunch of twigs beneath you, making faces at him as you start picking sticks up. You hold them against your arm, examining them and plucking any remaining leaves off before you come across the fish he threw behind him. You glance up, seeing his back muscles tense beneath his shirt as you leave it where it is, his silver chain sparkling in the sun; picking up the sticks around it and covering it carefully. 

"Why'd you kill it if you weren't going to eat it?" You ask as you near him, holding your collection in your arms. Your shoulder brushes his arm as you peer at the fish in his hands, "how do you know what fish is okay to eat?" 

"You kind of just have to trust your gut and also, fully cook it. We've never had advisories around here, and there's no salmon in these areas. If you see a bear with tapeworm around, it's usually from the fish in the waters. Therefore, don't eat the fish." He says pointedly, carefully clipping the fins of the fish off, "you'll know what to do depending on what the conditions are. You have to be alert and pay attention to your surroundings." 

"So, why'd you kill it?" You ask again, watching him look away as he sliced the head clean off with a shudder. 

"It's either sick and dying or getting ready to die. It was bloated around the kidneys; it likely had disease. It wouldn't have spread to the other fish, but it's always best to put them out of their misery." He nods, before grabbing the head and throwing it as far as he could into the woods. You hear it land somewhere, but don't look away from his hands as you clear your throat. 

"Have you ever killed anything else?" You ask softly, and he glances down at you with concern. 

"Not people, if that's what you're asking." 

Your face must show relief because he lets out a laugh of disbelief. "There's no way you think I'm capable of that. I have morals." 

"I don't know that, guy." 

"Well, now you know. The biggest thing I've ever killed was a trout when I was sixteen, and I cried the entire summer. I couldn't eat it, either; my mother made me soup for three nights." He rolls his eyes, and you look at the fish in his hands, holding out one of the sticks. He takes it, stripping it of the bark with his knife before spearing the fish on it.  

"Then how do you know deer is good?"  "I'll only eat it if someone else takes it out. I'm good at a lot of things but I can't kill anything. Fishing is the closest I get to it, and even then, I'm only doing it out of pure survival. I've never been a good hunter; it makes me sad and…queasy." 

You nod, watching him behead the other fish before looking up at him. 

"So, what about those undead things? Would you kill one?"  "I've had the pleasure of never coming across one. I think, morally…" 

He trails off, spearing the fish with the stick before tossing the other head into the woods. He sighs, looking down at you. 

"They're already dead. Out of survival, you have to do it if you're in danger. It's the only way I can justify it, if it were the case." He holds the stick of fish out to you, scooping the wood out of your arms as you take hold of the stick. "I have a lot of morals and values that I'm not willing to give up, even out of survival. I believe things should happen naturally, but I also don't believe anyone should suffer. That fish was suffering, and likely in pain. Those things…they're rotting from the inside out, they're suffering and in turn, making others suffer. Full death is the only option." 

You nod silently as you both climb the boulders, his hand on your back at an arm's length from behind to catch you if you slip. You both make it back to the ledge, and you glance over your shoulder to see him looking into the forest before scooting into the waterfall. 

"The sun is starting to set, so we'll have dinner and then you can get some rest. I'll stand watch for a bit." His voice is a little flat as he makes his way towards you, and you feel a bit of guilt settle in your belly. 

"Sorry if that conversation made you uncomfortable." You murmur as he walks by, and he waves you off as he slips into the cavern, only taking three steps into it before answering you. 

"It doesn't. It's good to talk about what you think, even if you're not sure when you'll go through it yourself. Death is an uncomfortable topic for everyone, but there is growth in that discomfort. Death is not the end of life, or love, for that matter, but it is inevitable." He shrugs, putting the pile of sticks down before separating a few. You peek in, before he appears in front of you and flips open a pocket of his rucksack, procuring a box of matches.  

"Morals, values, it's all growth. Both to keep them, and to release them. Death is only temporary, because you live on in those who knew you. That's why I'm trying to stay positive in these days, you know? It's hard to be sad when you're making yourself look at life from a different angle." 

He kneels, striking a match and tossing it into the pile of sticks as you slink into the cavern. The crackle of the wood is soothing to your ears, and the flame grows bigger within a few seconds. 

"If you always think, why not me? Or even, why me? You'll get nowhere. Those aren't answers you're supposed to have, because if it was meant to happen to you, it would have. You just have to keep your head up." He nods, skirting past you as he slips his matches back into the rucksack. He picks it up, along with your backpack, and pulls them closer to the fire. He pulls out a few washcloths, before untucking the sleeping bag he'd had strapped to the back of the bag. 

"Here, sit." He unzips it, laying it flat on the ground before taking the fish from you. You glance down at it, watching him sit cross legged on the other side of the fire. You look at him for a second, watching the way he props two stones on either side to hold the stick of speared fish in place. Toeing your shoes off, you lay them off to the side before kneeling onto the bag. It's cool against your skin, and you almost lie down but keep your arms rigid at your sides as you clear your throat. 

"Do you think that's easier for you because you have your life more figured out?" You ask, and he glances at you with an amused look.  

"You keep talking like I'm just this experienced guy," he snorts, carefully balancing the speared fish over the flame. "I've had one job my entire life. I've had the same group of friends since I was a kid, and I've kissed one girl." 

"Well, yeah but you've already done so much more than I could ever imagine. You've designed things and actually saw them come to life, you've helped people," You shrug, poking the fire with a stick before tossing it in to hear it crackle. "For example, I've never even kissed anyone. Now that the world is ending and all—" 

"The world is not ending, princess. You're being negative." He interrupts pointedly, and you give him a glare. 

"Yeah, well…I should be allowed to complain." 

He only smiles inwardly, turning the fish over once. The smell is beginning to fill the cavern, your stomach growling loudly; your arms wrapping around you as he snickers. 

"It'll be ready in a bit, don't worry." He says, tentatively pausing before you feel his eyes on you. You glance up from the fire, his gaze shamelessly falling over your face and shoulders as you lean back. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You bring your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them before wrapping your arms around your shins. He just shrugs, shaking his head before leaning back on his hands. 

"Why haven't you kissed anyone? Just…didn't want to?" His head is tilted to the side, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as you stare up at the stalactite around the curve of the cavern.  

"…I mean, I had chances. I just kind of kept dodging them." You say slowly, picking at a loose thread in the shorts you're wearing. "I've been on dates and stuff, and they'd always lean in, but I just wasn't that into them. And it's not like I value abstinence or anything, not that there's anything wrong with that but it's just not my vibe. I've…felt lust, and shit like that. However, I feel like a kiss should mean something, and if I'm not attracted to them enough, then…" 

"That's one less step towards a kiss. Okay. I get it." He nods, "if it makes you feel better—" 

"Don't try to relate to me right now. I'm sure you had girls throwing themselves at you." You scoff, and he rolls his eyes. 

"Again, just the one girl, and I was with her for three years." He holds up three fingers, and you tongue your cheek before shrugging. 

"Why'd you break up?" 

He seems hesitant to answer, nibbling on his lower lip before looking up at the stalactite. You take the moment to peer at him in the flickering light of the fire, and you really look at him — soft lips, slope of his nose…paired with sharp eyes, and strong brows. 

Pretty. 

"She wanted to get married." He says quietly, kicking at a bit of rubble. "I was fresh out of school, and I'd just started designing my first building…I wasn't going to have time to dedicate it to wedding planning. I wasn't sure if I would have time for her, but I tried my best. We got engaged anyway and I was always busy. It just didn't work." 

"Who broke up with who?" You ask, leaning forward nosily as he tongues his cheek. 

"I broke off the engagement." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't easy, but it also wasn't working. Sometimes I wonder where I would be if we had gone through with the wedding. Would I be a dad? Would we have fought as much as we did towards the end of it all? Just…so many questions that I also can't bring myself to care about because I'll spiral over nothing. It was two years ago, life goes on." 

"Do you want to be a dad someday?" You grab another stick from the pile next to you, poking the flame as he takes the fish off. He shrugs, staring at the fish tentatively. He turns it gently, watching the flame lick at the skin of it before answering your question. 

"My future wife has to want kids for me to be able to make that decision." He clicks his tongue, "no use in me wanting something when she's the one bearing them. I'd just…you know. It's not fair to make that decision on my own." 

"You think you'll get married? If the world doesn't end?" You continue messing with the fire as he turns the fish again. 

"I mean…I hope. I made a bucket list on the first day of my freshman year in university, and it was the third or fourth thing I had on there." He carefully adds two more sticks to the bottom of the fire before glancing up at you. "Do you want to get married? Have kids?" 

You dig your chin into your chest, smiling inwardly as you give a weak shrug. 

"…I don't know."  "You're lying." 

"I think I should focus on actually kissing a guy, first. Imagine if this outbreak hadn't happened. Maybe I'd be getting lots of dudes hitting my line in Germany." You roll your eyes, before sighing. 

"I think I just want to fall in love one day. I was very focused on my studies my entire life, I've been to two tailgates, and I've been drunk twice in my life, and one of those was when I found out I got the internship. I've never kissed a guy, and I've never been a girlfriend, but that was my choice. And now, I don't have that choice, because the universe has just decided that it is fate for me. It's not like romance has ever been my top priority. I was loved by my friends and my family all the same, and the only love, or passion, or desire I truly had in life was design and architecture. God, I used to dream of my buildings being part of skylines and I went through a phase where I'd conjure up dream homes for my friends. I even promised that one day I'd build them, and I'd help decorate to their style…and now they're gone. They're gone and I'm here, with a stranger and in a cave complaining about the fact that I'll now never get the chance to fall in love or kiss a guy; when neither will they, because they are gone." 

You close your eyes momentarily, tucking your chin into your chest before you blink up at him. He's looking at you with a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he shifts back on his hands, a slight tilt to his head. You maintain eye contact, nibbling on the inside of your lip and poking at the fire with the stick in your hand. 

"Tell me your name." 

"Y/N." You speak plainly, making the choice to lay down and toss the stick into the fire. You cross your arms on your chest, closing your eyes. "Not princess, sorry to burst your bubble." 

"Y/N what?" He leans over slightly, and you feel a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. You open your eyes, catching him staring down at you. He doesn't look away, his eyes incessant as you turn your head slightly so he's not upside down in your vision.  

"What's it to you, guy?"  "The curiosity will kill me, princess."  "I literally just told you my name, you don't have to keep calling me that." 

"I like watching you squirm, it's cute." He shrugs, carefully pulling the stick off the rocks and out of the fish, laying it flat on a washcloth and slipping out his knife. He sinks the blade into the flesh of the fish as you turn to rest on your side, your eyes heavy as he holds a piece of the fish on the blade out to you. "Careful, it's hot." 

You lean forward slightly, biting down on the piece of fish with your teeth before pulling it into your mouth. It's hot, yeah, but it's juicy and even a bit sweet as you chew. 

"Good?" 

You only nod as you hold your hand out for another piece, the sound of the crackling fire making you sleepier by the minute. You both eat in silence, with him grabbing the end of the sleeping bag and pulling you to his side of the fire so he doesn't have to keep reaching over to give you pieces. You pick it off yourself, still laying as you eat despite him telling you it's bad for you. 

"Is the sun down yet?" You mutter, wiping at your eyes lazily. He glances over his shoulder, the sun peering through the waterfall and creating a pattern on the walls of the cavern. 

"Almost. Come on, I have to put the fire out and let the smoke air out. You can sleep in a little bit."  "You've said that twice now, guy." 

"Sue me for wanting to spend time with someone." He scoffs, "and my name is—" 

"No, don't tell me. You'll get attached." Your sentence is almost interrupted by a yawn, but you force yourself off the sleeping bag, lazily dragging yourself towards the entrance of the cavern when you hear the hiss of the fire dying under the bottle of water he dug out of his rucksack. You hear the crinkle of the plastic before rustling, the smell of burnt wood wafting out of the cavern as he appears next to you with the sleeping bag. He spreads it out for you again, and you lay on your stomach as he moves to the side. He sits next to your head, a rag in his hand as he pulls the knife out of his pocket once more. 

"What're you doing?" You ask tiredly, leaning up on your elbow to watch him. 

"Just cleaning the knife. If my math is right, we'll be at the cabin in two days if we don't get any rain. If we do, it's three or four. I've got to ration things properly." He nods, and you peer at the knife. There's a corkscrew on it, and you forget the name of the style of knife but you smush your cheek with the heel of your palm as you point at it. 

"Why do you need a corkscrew?"  "Do you always ask this many questions?" 

"Well, guy, it's not every day we're being hunted by the undead, you know." You say pointedly, tapping his knee as he scoffs. 

"Mingyu." 

"Hm?" You look up at him with tired eyes, and he glances down before shaking his head with a sigh. 

"That's my name. Mingyu."  "Okay? What am I supposed to do with this information?"  "Pft, I don't know. Maybe stop calling me guy?" 

"And what, build a foundation of trust? You'd kill me if I got bitten by one of those rotting things." You huff, a hint of humor in your voice as you move to lay on your side.  

"Uh, yeah. You'll be dead anyway, princess."  "I don't like your attitude, Mingyu." 

"Sucks to be you, sweetness." He shrugs, and you let out an annoyed huff. You fold your arms under your head, using your bicep as a pillow. You blink at the running waterfall in front of you, the sun's rays bleeding through when you speak again. 

"Where are you going to sleep?"  "Probably right here. I'm just gonna zip you up later, because it gets kind of cold in the cavern."  "Won't you be cold?" 

You feel him shift next to you, your eyes looking up at him as he shrugs. "I can handle it. You already have goosebumps." 

It's silent for a while. You watch the sun continue to set from behind the waterfall, the moon rising and illuminating the water. You blink tiredly, your body sore from the day but your fingers tap his knee gently as you push yourself up. He looks down at you, leaning back on his hands with a gentle smile on his lips. 

"Yes?"  "Can we go to sleep now?"  "Yeah, you can go to sleep." 

You shake your head, "that's not what I said." 

He snorts, "what do you want from me, princess?" 

"I want you to sleep! That bag is so heavy, I know you're probably sore all over and you're not admitting it to save face or something." You point an accusatory finger at him, and he purses his lips, nodding his head as if in agreeance. 

"Wow," he says incredulously, "you're quite the mind reader. What else can you see? Can you tell my shoulders hurt real bad, too?" 

"Mingyu!"  "You're so freaking cute, actually." 

"Fine, freeze." You huff, laying back down and flipping the rest of the sleeping bag over your shoulders. You face into the cavern as he chuckles, patting the sleeping bag over your shoulder.  

"I'll sleep soon. Just gotta keep you safe for a little longer." He admits softly, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before sighing. You don't respond, curling your knees to your chest and hugging yourself in an attempt to sleep. The last thing your eyes catch before you close them is the time blinking on his watch — 9:42 PM.  

You manage to doze off for a bit, your back popping as you stretch your limbs slightly; only to feel Mingyu has disappeared from next to your head. You lean up a bit, the moon in a different part of the sky now before feeling the heat of his body on the ground. He's snoring softly but shivering, still wearing his boots but his watch is slipped off and next to his head. You grab it: 2:09 AM. 

Groaning, you move to shake him awake when he jolts up on his own. He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes slightly bloodshot as he squints at you. 

"Are you okay?" His voice is raspy, and you shake your head as you run a hand over your face. He shifts to sit up, when you drape the folded-over part of the sleeping bag out onto the floor and point at it. 

"Lay down." You pat the bag, before sitting up on your knees and tucking your mussed hair behind your ears. He blinks at you, silently giving in and sprawling across the bag. You crawl towards his feet, untying the laces of his boots quickly before yanking them off. 

"Leave them on," He mumbles tiredly, but you just pat his knee. 

"You're shivering, you're tired and you're sore. Just take them off to sleep well." You murmur, bringing the boots up to his head and sitting them next to him. You tuck the watch into them, before laying back down on your side of the bag. "Good night, Mingyu." 

You try to ignore how his name feels on your tongue, only to hear him whisper behind you as he turns onto his side, his breath hitting the back of your neck. 

"Mmh. Good night, Y/N." 

THERE IS A MOP OF HAIR UNDER YOUR FINGERTIPS AS YOU STIR THE FOLLOWING MORNING. 

It's slightly chilly, your skin prickling at the soft breeze that blows through the waterfall, but the rest of you remains warm as you wiggle slightly. Your hips are achy as you strain your neck to see Mingyu's head laid on your chest, his arms wrapped around you like he was trying to protect you from something. Your legs are hooked at your ankles around his waist, holding him flush to your torso. Your hand in his hair is nothing to the one dipping below the neck of his shirt, imprinted with the pattern of his necklace and absolutely not comparable to his on your hip – under your shirt. 

"Mingyu." You pat his shoulders, the man not stirring in the slightest. You pat harder, only feeling him inhale deeply, but not wake up. You let out a huff of annoyance, making a fist and hitting his shoulder with the side of your hand. He jolts on reflex, waking up almost instantly as his hand shoots up to rub at his shoulder. 

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why'd you hit me?!" You refuse to let the rasp of his voice distract you, and you force yourself to focus as you scowl and measure the distance between you with a pat to his chest and yours. 

"You're on top of me, dimwit. I'm practically roasting." You wipe sweat from your neck, the sleeping bag sticking to your damp back. His eyes widen, and he glances down at the hand under your shirt. He rips it away, pushing himself off you almost in a tizzy before clearing his throat, kneeling above you. 

"I, uh—"  "If you're gonna say you're sorry, just save it for when you actually fuck up."  "Still, I'm—" 

"Mingyu." You hold your hand up, watching the guilt flash through his features as you point your fingertips at him. "I genuinely don't care. I'm just concerned about the fact that you radiate so much fucking heat. Aren't you sweaty? Jesus." 

You sit up, grimacing as you feel your shirt stick to you. You reach into his boot, fishing his watch out — 6:07 AM. You tap the face with your nail, "we should get moving. If today is anything like yesterday, I need to get up before I lose motivation and leave myself out on a platter for the undead." 

"Even in the mornings, you just say the most insane shit." He mutters, rubbing at his eyes before sitting back on his feet. "Are you hungry? I made more porridge before—" 

"Will you catch another fish?" You ask quickly, sitting up on your knees and clasping your hands together. He gives you a deadpan look, and you jut your lower lip out in a pout, "come on, buddy! Just one fish, please? Please, please—" 

"Don't beg, I haven't even processed your question." He grumbles, wiping at his eyes again, before stretching his arms over his head. His eyes are squeezed shut, a sliver of skin peeking out from his untucked shirt. "What if I just teach you how to catch one? It's easy." 

"Or…you can just catch it for me while I start another fire." You wiggle your brows, and he lets out a sigh as he stretches again. "C'mon! You've gotten me used to a certain lifestyle—" 

"Okay, okay." He lets out a sigh, rubbing his face before standing up. "Alright, checklist. Fish, porridge, bath. Oh, and changing your bandages…what else? Oh! Laundry, too. We might get out of here closer to nine." 

He shakes out his legs, marks from the sleeping bag imprinted on his skin. He takes his watch from you, slapping it on his wrist before lolling his head back. 

"My back is killing me, I can't wait to get back to my bed." He huffs, twisting from side to side and you wrinkle your nose at the sound of the joints popping before his eyes widen and he glances down at you with an accusatory look. "For the love of God, please stretch before we head out today. You were kicking the shit out of me in your sleep last night." 

"Is that why I woke up being melted into the sleeping bag?" You chide, and he just rolls his eyes before running a hand through his hair.  

"Shut up."  "Mmh, I don't think so." 

You giggle as he scowls down at you, and you stretch your arms over your head as he grabs his boots. He shakes them out, making sure no critters crawled in during the night before shoving them on. You reach over before he can bend, tying the laces quickly before patting the tip of the boot and pointing to the spring. 

"Come on, fisherman. Bring me home something good."  "You're lucky you're entertaining."  "You can say I'm cute." 

"And why would I lie like that?" He muses, chuckling as he skirts past your swatting hand and grabs his cap off the rucksack inside the cavern. He stretches his arms over his head one more time, letting out a pained grunt before rolling his shoulders back and making his way down the boulders. You peer over the side of the waterfall like you did the day before, sitting with your legs hanging over the ledge as you watch him pop his knuckles before crouching at the edge of the spring again. 

You'd never admit out loud that watching the way his brain works is a little…intriguing. The seeds, the quickness of his reactions, the way his eyes never lost focus despite the movement of the waters. Really, this is nothing that should impress you as much as it does — but you've also been alone for so long that the most entertainment you have is your brain replaying The Breakfast Club spottily as you roamed the forests aimlessly. 

"What happened to starting the fire?" He calls from the same boulder he stood at last night, hand on his hip as he looks up at you. You shrug, pointing at your socked feet, "can't find my shoes." 

"You mean you didn't look for your shoes. I moved them to the entrance before I went to sleep. Put 'em on, princess."  "What if I wash your clothes for you while you bathe? Will you gather the wood then?" 

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he guts the fish and beheads it faster than he did the day before. He looks around, finding a stick at the edge of the spring and spearing it through. You watch with a bitten smile as he makes his way back up the boulders, holding the fish out to you with a feigned look of annoyance on his face as you take it. 

"You're so annoying, stop smiling like that." He mutters, turning around as you chuckle.  

"Thank you, guy!"  "Stop calling me that!" 

You only laugh harder as you get up, propping the speared fish on the side of the cavern and pulling your shoes on. You grab your bag, opening it carefully and slipping your jar of honey into the pocket of his rucksack before digging out your dirty clothing and the bar of soap you had. You roll your intimates into your shirt, staring at the bunched pair of jeans at the bottom of your bag before pulling them out. You shove it all under your arm, glancing over the boulders to see Mingyu already climbing back up with his arms full of wood.  

"Need some help?" You call, and he shakes his head, making it back with a tick in his jaw. He drops the wood, rolling his shoulders back slightly before clearing his throat.  

"You should probably bathe; the fish can wait. Plus, then I can take your clothes," you hold your hand out, and he nibbles on his lip.  

"I'll make the fish first, then I'll bathe. I don't want it to sit out for too long. You can wash your stuff first and lay it out in the sun so it can start drying. Use the bottled water, I've got a filter and we can fill up before we leave." He nods, almost to himself as you put a hand on your hip. 

"At least give me your shirt and socks, guy. You're not going anywhere, anyway, you're gonna make the fire right here." You shrug, holding your hand out as he raises a brow. 

"You just wanna see me strip—"  "I'll fucking kill you, actually." 

He laughs, dodging your attempt at hitting his arm swiftly. He gathers the sticks carefully, piling them together as you set your stuff down before moving to shake out the sleeping bag. You roll it back up, tucking it under the straps of his rucksack before plucking at his shirt. 

"Give it here, fella." 

He snorts, flicking his cap off before tugging his shirt over his head. You take it, your eyes not missing the deep bruising on his shoulders from the weight of the rucksack. You chew on your cheek as you take a closer look, your fingers floating over the skin when he clears his throat. 

"The bag is heavy, but it's fine. I'm fine, plus we should be home by tomorrow night. Don't worry about it." He says softly, and you involuntarily let out a noise of distress as he unties his boot laces to hand you his socks. You take them, huffing as you make your way to the second boulder down — the biggest one, and you soak each item individually in the higher end of the spring water. You barely dip your underwear, not wanting him to see the lace in your hand. 

Your knees dig painfully into the boulder beneath you as you lather soap all over the clothes, the smell almost sterile as you rinse them and wring them out repeatedly. The knee pain only stops when you tug your shoes off to wash your socks. You wring your underwear out the most, wanting it as dry as possible so the sun can finish drying it faster than the rest of the clothes. You lay everything out, the morning sun hitting the boulder just right as you manage your way back up to the cavern. 

Your eyes linger on the bruises on Mingyu's shoulders, spanning down his back. You crouch behind him, tossing your shoes to the side and examining the purple and yellow splotches before you feel his hand reach back and pat your thigh. 

"Stop it. You're making me self-conscious." 

"I'm just admiring your back muscles." You blurt, his laughter immediately ringing out as he swats at your leg. 

"Seriously, stop. Just come eat your fish, princess."  "What will you eat?" 

"Don't worry about me." He says pointedly, before standing up and grabbing his rucksack. He digs through the front pocket. He procures a bag of what seem to be toothpaste tablets, and two toothbrushes (one used, one new) are seen through the plastic. Your eyes widen, and you almost topple over as you stand to hold your hand out. 

"No please or thank you anymore, huh?" He snorts, pulling the bag open to give you the packaged toothbrush. You tear it open as he holds out two tablets, "chew them. They have fluoride so I wouldn't recommend swallowing it, but…you do what you do, you know?" 

You do as you're told, chewing the tablets until a paste forms and you scrub at your teeth for what seems like twenty minutes before the foam gets too much. He only bites back his smile as he does the same, before his eyes widen in realization and he pulls more bandages out of the bag. He holds his toothbrush in his jaw, grabbing your injured hand and peeling the wet bandage back. Your gash seems to be healing fine, but he dries the skin out with an alcohol pad before wrapping new bandage around it. 

You end up swallowing your toothpaste like a lunatic, giving Mingyu the toothbrush to put away before plopping in front of the fire that has now slightly charred the side of your fish. You flip it over, waiting for Mingyu to sit with you as you speak. 

"I used to be a masseuse, you know." You nod, and he seems interested as he nods, sliding everything but the moleskin bandages back into his pack and pulls out the same washcloth he used for the fish last night. He sits next to you, pulling the fish off the fire and sliding it in front of you before taking your foot in his hand, stretching your leg over his thigh. 

"Were you? Was that your part-time job?" He asks, carefully peeling the bandages off your feet. You wince as he presses the pad of his thumb into the arch of your foot, nodding as you wave his hand away from your foot. 

"I did it for three years, I think. Almost four, I made pretty good money, but I almost always needed a massage, too. I quit when I found out I got my internship," Your voice is soft, almost as though you're trying to butter him up for something. He seemingly catches on, pressing his lips into a thin line as you pick pieces off your fish to feed him and yourself. 

"You don't have to do that for me, you know. Don't feel like you need to repay me or anything, I'm helping you because I want to and it makes me feel useful. Just let me do it." He says sternly, carefully sliding a bandage over the top arch of your foot. He wraps another on the side, your fingers holding a piece of fish to his mouth. He takes it, chewing almost angrily as you sigh. 

"Don't you think that you should let people help you, too?" You ask, "I mean, what if it makes me feel useful? I may not know you all that well, but it doesn't mean I want to see you in pain." 

"I'm not in any pain. It's just uncomfortable, it'll go away."  "Mingyu."  "Please, just drop it." 

You huff, tucking your foot under you as he gestures for you to give him the other one. You glance at the watch — 7:03 AM, or something similar because his hand keeps moving as he wraps bandages around your feet. 

"We're making pretty good time, I'd say." You nod at the watch, and he glances down at it with a semi-impressed look. "Maybe we'll be out of here by eight instead." 

"Maybe. Eat up, I'm going to bathe." He murmurs, patting your knee before he slips away, taking a netted bag with him that you hadn't noticed him take out. You watch the way his back is stiff, the bruising patching up to the curve of his neck. His biceps are just as tense as he disappears around the waterfall, and you lean back on one hand as you pick at the fish in front of you. You sip your water diligently, hearing the soft running of the waterfall amongst the buzzing of flies and bugs.  

The morning is quiet aside from the sounds of nature. You finish your breakfast, putting the fire out with the little water you have left in your bottle before reaching over to his rucksack and fishing out one of the apples in the netted bags. You wipe it across your shirt, sinking your teeth into it and holding it between them as you lay on the ledge with your foot hanging off the edge. 

Mingyu returns shortly, hair dripping before he shakes his head like a dog, spraying the side of your leg as he makes his way up the boulders. The sun is significantly hotter now, so the spray doesn't bother you nearly as much, but you still kick the side of his thigh with your eyes closed. 

"Come on, princess. We've got to get moving, and we only have one water bottle left so we gotta fill up before we leave." 

You don't open your eyes, blindly feeling around for your empty water bottle and tilting it to the waterfall. The sound of water falling into the bottle is enough confirmation for you, earning a chuckle from Mingyu as he does the same. You can feel his presence around your head, before he takes the bottle from your grasp and finishes filling it for you. 

"Can you get the clothes? I'll filter these while we walk."  

You peel your eyes open, looking up to see him donning a form-fitting, sleeveless white shirt that nearly makes your eyes bulge out. You sit up quickly, almost choking around the last bite of your apple before you push yourself off the ground and scramble down the boulders, tossing the apple core far into the woods as you reach the clothes. They're surprisingly dry, almost hot to the touch as you fold them quickly and stuff them into your backpack. You hold your socks in your hand as you pull your backpack over your shoulders, tightening the straps before making your way back up to the cavern. You practically throw his socks at him, not catching the furrow of his brows when they land on his arm (and then, the ground.) 

"What's got you so frantic? Take a deep breath."  

"Nothing. Just…excited to get the day started." You speak through your teeth, shoving your feet into your socks, not bothering to shake out your sneakers before pulling them on. You lace them up haphazardly, before looking into the cavern. There's nothing, but you still pat the side of the opening in gratitude before making your way down the boulders. "Uh, you take your time. I'm just gonna…roam." 

"Like hell you are, stay put." He scoffs, screwing a contraption on each of the water bottles before setting them down and grabbing his bag. You look away, focusing your eyes on the forest ahead of you and the sunlight spotting through the trees. "You need sunscreen." 

"No, I don't."  "Being stubborn gets you nowhere with me. Get up here."  "Can't, sorry. Already said my thanks to the cavern, means I can't go back." 

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you imagine the irritated look on his face. You dig the toe of your sneaker into the ground beneath you, kicking at the dirt when you hear him move around behind you. His arm brushes your shoulder as he skirts past you, the bottles of water held tightly upside down by the straps of his rucksack as he grabs your shoulders and makes you face him. 

"There's no trees for about ten miles with the route we're taking. If you don't put on sunscreen, you're gonna get a sunburn and I don't have anything to soothe it." He says flatly, his fingers covered in thick sunscreen as he presses them to your face. You let out a groan, rolling your eyes as he works it into your cheeks and forehead, trailing his fingers down your neck. You can feel your pulse pick up a bit, and you're hoping he doesn't as the tips of his fingers breach the collar of your shirt. 

"Arms and legs. Sit." He makes you sit on the edge of the boulder, a scoff leaving your lips as he rolls up your sleeves slightly and spreads more of the sunscreen all over your arms and fingers, even working it into your cuticles. "Mingyu, I'm gonna be all sticky." 

"Sticky beats blistering sunburn, plus this dries faster when you're not complaining."  "I'm not complaining!"  "Yes, you are, but I can handle it. So just let me take care of you, damn." 

He rolls his eyes as he crouches, pushing the shorts up high on your thighs before wrapping his arms around your ankles. You glance down at him, and you must have some sort of look on your face because he holds the sunscreen up to you. 

"Is this fine or do you want to do it yourself? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."  "You're not making me uncomfortable. I'm just not…used to this." 

"Yeah, princess, no one is." He says pointedly, almost slowly as if he's talking to a child. You scoff, crossing your arms as your cheeks turn hot. 

"That's not what I'm talking about." You grumble, your fingernails digging into your arms as he uncaps the sunscreen again, taking some in his hand before shaking his head. 

"Then what are you talking about?" He slathers the cream on your shins, dipping slightly under your socks as you chew on your cheek. He reaches your knees, reaching behind them to coat the back of it before tapping the side. "Answer my question." 

His fingers brush the inside of your thigh, your hand shooting out to grab his wrist as you take the sunscreen in your hand. 

"The touching. I'm not used to the touching, okay?" You mutter, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you quickly cover your thighs in sunscreen, "you're so casual with it and I don't know what it's supposed to make me feel, and I don't want to think about it right now."  

You cap the cream, shoving it into his chest before standing up and fixing your clothes to cover you. He blinks down at you, confusion and concern coating his gaze before he clears his throat. 

"I didn't—" 

"It's fine, Mingyu. I'm not uncomfortable, you're not in any trouble, nothing like that. It just makes me think too much. Now, let's fucking move." You gesture to the woods behind you, and he nods slowly, slathering the rest of the sunscreen left on his hands on his arms. He seemingly doesn't know what to do with his hands, crossing his arms on his chest before walking into the forest. 

The first few minutes are silent. Just crunching of leaves and twigs under your shoes, his posture rigid as he tries to hide how often he rolls his shoulders back. You keep your eyes on the ground; your own arms crossed on your chest as he keeps about a foot of distance between you. His shorts are navy blue now; a cute little flower embroidered on the pocket with baby blue thread and the letters KMG. 

"What's the K for?" You ask, and he glances at you over his shoulder. 

"What K?"  "On the pocket of your shorts. KMG. MG is for Mingyu, right?" 

You gesture at the embroidery with your pinky, and he reaches his hand back to touch the pocket before a look of understanding crosses his features. 

"Ooh. It's Kim. Kim Mingyu." He shrugs, patting the pocket before crossing his arms on his chest again. You nod, "Lee Y/N." 

"Nice to meet you, Miss Lee."  "Nauseated to meet you, too, Mr. Kim." 

You miss the way he smiles inwardly; your eyes focused on the caps swinging from the back of his bag. You notice they also have his initials embroidered, as does his rucksack on the bottom left corner.  

"Why is all your stuff labeled with your initials?" 

"I went a little crazy when the outbreak happened, and all the things at the cabin that I took there in case of something like this look exactly the same. So, I hand-embroidered my initials on everything that was mine, and then everything else with whoever has it. There's a handful of guys up there, but you're the only girl I've come across thus far. When we get there, you'll get some clothes and a towel, and we'll pick a color and put your initials on them, and you can stay as long as you want." 

He shrugs, your chest warm at the idea of having community again. 

"As long as I want?"  "As long as you want, sweetness." 

You bite back your smile, nodding to yourself, "do I get my own bed, too?" 

"I believe so. If not, I'll just make some of the guys room together so you can have your own space." He glances down at you, "you can be happy about it, you know. You must've been very lonely out here by yourself. Don't think I didn't notice how tired you were, you were practically stiff from all the stress in your back." 

"It was just…I felt a little pathetic." You start, "I wasn't prepared, but who truly is for something like this? We speculate, but we never actually think or hope it will happen. I was so sure I'd be in Germany, I thought my life was set in stone for me and I'd be…well. Yeah." 

"This idea you have that you can't be great because you didn't make it to Germany is a little concerning to me." He speaks softly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "I think you're being too hard on yourself. You've made it on your own for this long, I think that shows resilience. I don't necessarily commend you for making it this far with such little food sources, because that's dangerous but things are scarce and you're alive. You're still kicking, so who says you can't do bigger things? Better ones?" 

"You should be a life coach."  "I was a cheerleader in grade nine, I know a thing or two about spirit." 

You snort, "I was a cheerleader, too. I only lasted six weeks because I broke my ankle during a standing back tuck. I ended up having to get surgery; it was the worst pain of my life and my mother was furious about the money we shelled out for the uniform and summer camp."  

He bites back his laughter, shaking his head before clearing his throat. "What other things did you do besides school and work?" 

"You mean did I have any hobbies?" You tilt your head, trilling your lips and sucking your teeth, "I was pretty good at playing guitar. Electric, bass, acoustic…my mom taught me. And piano, she loved piano, all that classical mumbo jumbo but she loved rock. I was also an incredible masseuse, you know—" 

"You just don't let up, do ya?"  "You're asking me questions, I'm just answering. I was a master assembler of furniture, I was also good at baking. I made a cake or a pie for me and my roommates every week. I'm an ice cream connoisseur, specifically Ben & Jerry's and my favorite flavor is Cherry Garcia. I also really like soup and stews. Soft tofu stew? Absolute gas, my man." 

There's a soft glimmer in his eye as he hums, "anything that you wish you could do right now?" 

"Listen to the radio. I'd sit in my room with my mom's favorite station on odd days and my dad's on even. Rock on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and dance pop on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then I'd alternate on the weekends. My dad loved Kylie Minogue, my mom was super into Janis Joplin." 

"What's your favorite song? Of all time, and not your parents'. Yours." He looks around, carefully slipping in front of you as another hill is in your way. He starts reaching his hand back but quickly pulls it back to his side as he skillfully makes his way down, looking over his shoulder at you. You glance at his hand stuffed in his pocket, giving him an odd look before holding onto his elbow and making your way down.  

"Of all time? Can I do top five?"  "Sure." 

"Safe and Sound by Capital Cities, Ooh My Love by Stevie Nicks, You Don't Know My Name by Alicia Keys, You and Me by Lifehouse, Look On Down from the Bridge by Mazzy Star." You nod along as you speak, still holding onto his arm as you make your way through a vast field. 

"You have a very 'divorced dad that's still in love with his ex-wife while trying to fit in with his kids' type of music taste." 

You laugh as you register what he says, your fingers tightening around his arm as you shrug, "my parents used to sing together like they were going through a million and one divorces. Instead of fighting, they sat at my mother's piano and sang until they got over it. What's your favorite song? Top five?" 

"Hm, I don't know. I liked a lot of different genres, but I think one of my favorite songs was definitely My Kind of Woman by Mac DeMarco. I listened to it a lot when I was in high school, almost on loop on days I had exams. I haven't heard it in a while." He nods, before clicking his tongue. "In fact, I think the last time I heard it was on the drive back to my parents' house after things ended with my ex-fiancée." 

"Oh, boy." You wince, "what was she like? Was she nice?" 

"Oh, the sweetest, really. Got along well with almost everyone. Smart, reliable, dependable…" He trails off, shrugging his shoulders with a tick in his jaw. "She was great." 

"So why didn't you try harder to make it work?" You ask softly, "I mean, if she was so great, and she sounds almost perfect…what happened?" 

"I wish I could tell you." He lets out a sigh of defeat, clicking his tongue, "I felt like a jerk, and I constantly wondered if I'd done the right thing. I would get calls from her, and I was cruel to answer, knowing things wouldn't change and I was drowning myself in work to avoid my feelings of guilt. We stopped talking a month or so after, because I stopped picking up her calls. She moved to Taiwan just before the outbreak, she got a really good job out there working with the Society for Wildlife and Nature and I'm here. I abandoned the house project for my family because I needed time to process everything, and though I'm over it now and I'm moving on…the guilt of never finishing that house eats away at me now." 

"You're just a mess, huh?" You chuckle softly, patting his arm before shaking your head.  

"We live with so much guilt, humans. We feel guilty about the things we do, the things we don't do, the things we think about and the things we don't. It's a never-ending cycle, and someday…it ends. Yeah, your family isn't here anymore to enjoy that house. But you can still finish it, you can bring new growth there. You'll marry, you'll have a kid or two and that golden retriever that everyone seems to want…and you'll heal because you'll see the space used for what you intended it for, you know? Togetherness, love, care and caution. Someone will trip up the stairs, and you'll have anticipated it. Someone will get shoved into a hall closet by their sibling and you'll have already pictured it because that's what a home is. Memories, good and not-so-good, tangible and in the mind, alike; because you are your family. And they live through you, still, and whatever you put into the world." 

He doesn't speak for a minute, your hand still holding onto his arm as you both keep walking in the field. The silence is comfortable but thick, like one of you said something the other wasn't expecting and it's still suspended in the air, processing. You stare at the ground, watching your feet go in front of each other as the sun beats down on your backs. Mingyu rolls his shoulders back silently, and your fingers slip off his skin as you move to slip your hand into your pocket. 

His fingers dart out of his own pocket, grabbing yours and interlacing them. Your fingers are stiff for a second, and you lean forward slightly to look at him — only for him to turn away. You frown, but curl your fingers around his hand… 

And you ignore the way your heart quickens stupidly in your chest at his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. 

The walk continues without much conversation, minutes turning to hours but his hand never letting yours go, even as he rolls his shoulders back and winces in discomfort. You feel a pang in your chest as he does it repeatedly, the sun moving overhead and making your skin grow hot. You ignore the fatigue settling into your thighs, leaning your head on Mingyu's bicep when he glances down at you. 

"Your hair is scorching hot." He presses his free hand to your face, before reaching behind him and pulling one of the water bottles off his bag. He looks at it, the water clean on one side and the filter blinking green. He lets go of your hand, twisting the filter off and standing in front of you. "Close your eyes, this is gonna be cold." 

"No way you're soaking me with that right now."  "I'm not, but your head is hot, and I have an extra cap. It's just to cool you down. I'll even give you a carrot if you just let me do this."  "Do I look like a horse—" 

He sprays you with the bottle mid-sentence, an unimpressed look on his face as you scowl. He does it again, and you just close your eyes as he runs his fingers through your hair. The water drips down your shirt, soaking through as you move your arms to cover your chest. He tugs a cap off the back of his bag, pulling it over your head before moving to tuck your hair over the backstrap in a makeshift ponytail. He swings the bag off, flipping it open and handing you a carrot. You stare at it, tonguing your cheek as he pulls the bag back over his shoulders. 

"I'm literally soaking wet."  "The sun'll dry you out, don't worry. And you'll bathe later, so it's no big deal."  "Sure, no big deal. What about the carrot?" 

"Eat it." He shrugs, holding the bottle of water in his fingers as he blindly feels around for your hand. You let him take it, rolling your eyes as he bumps your fingers with his thigh in every movement. You glance at the carrot in your hand, sucking your teeth before holding it up to him. 

"You didn't breakfast."  "I wasn't hungry."  "Bullshit. Eat it." 

"You eat it." He sticks his tongue out at you, but you give him a stern look that makes him roll his eyes, his hand coming to grab the carrot and he bites a piece off with his teeth. You take the water bottle from his hand, swinging it on your side as you keep your eyes trained to the trees in the horizon, your dripping hair keeping you cool in the beating sun.  

"What are your hobbies?" You kick at the grass patches, and he hums as he chews. 

"Well, I was just very go-with-the-flow. I liked cooking, I did almost all the cooking when I lived in the dorms with my roommates and when I moved in with my ex. I also drew a lot, I designed a few album covers for a few of my friends that were underground artists in college. I also play guitar, but just electric. I have a shit poker face, and I can't lie to save my life; so, I know better than to gamble with my friends, but I'm very hands-on. I like embroidering things, if it wasn't obvious, but I overall just like using my hands to do something. It keeps me busy and the end result is almost always something I'm satisfied with." 

You nod silently, before clearing your throat. 

"What was her name?"  "Mina. Jeong Mina." 

"Mina and Mingyu…M&M." You mumble to yourself, your fingers around the water bottle tightening slightly. The trees seem to be getting closer, and you stay silent for the rest of the walk, even when it feels like hours. Your hair dries slowly, your shirt drying even slower as you limply trek the last few miles with your hands linked between each other. Your back tenses as you hear a noise in the distance, but you see nothing as you look around slowly, even stopping Mingyu before walking into the shade of the trees. You glance around, your skin prickling but nothing catches your eyes until you hear Mingyu whisper in your ear. 

"Don't move." 

Your eyes dart around the field behind you, before you catch a sparkle less than half a mile away. You try to focus, but Mingyu's hand is pulling you slowly behind him as you realize that it's an animal, a bear. The sparkle is the eyes staring straight at you in the high afternoon sun as your breath hitches in your throat. You watch it move slowly, preparing to run as Mingyu's foot crunches something, and you both freeze as it keeps gauging your every move. 

"When do we start running instead of standing here like idiots?" You speak through gritted teeth, now fully behind Mingyu and moving deeper into the trees.  

"They're not usually around these parts, the bears stay closer to the water…so if there's one, there could be more." He mutters, his hand tightening around yours as you pull on it. "Don't let go, okay?" 

"Mingyu!" You grit, pulling harder as you turn to face into the woods. Yet another dilemma lays ahead — a mountain lion, watching you from the trees. Emerald eyes are set on your face, ears are set back, black-tipped tail flicking as you make eye contact. You must stop moving because Mingyu bumps into you, glancing over his shoulder to see the large cat's claws dig into the bark of the tree. 

"We have a better chance with the lion that we do the bear. At least she'll give us a head start," you're breathless, not wanting any sudden movements to make it pounce. You feel your heart beating wildly in your chest as the lion glances down before making contact with your eyes again. You dare yourself to look down, seeing a deer carcass laying on the forest floor.  

"Bear is turning around," Mingyu's voice trembles slightly, but you mention nothing as you stare up at the lion with the most courage you can muster. For whatever reason, you put your hands up, carefully skirting around the dead animal that makes your heart sink in your chest. It's nature, you tell yourself as Mingyu keeps himself close to your back, pressed into you so hard that you can feel his chest rising and falling with every quipped breath. The lion follows you with every step, occasionally glancing at the carcass beneath it as you make it to the other side of it.  

"We're leaving now," you say to no one in particular, and the lion stares you down, lowering its head as Mingyu's fingers dig into your arm, his hand in yours tightly squeezing. You watch the lion's tongue peek out to run over its snout, before a lazy yawn guarantees your temporary safety. Mingyu pulls you deeper into the forest, but you don't turn around, even as the lion closes its eyes. 

Your grip on Mingyu's hand is almost bruising as you turn slightly, a shiver running down your back as he lets out a breath. You don't want to seem weak — because you're not. You're strong, you've done this for months alone. 

Emotions are not weakness. 

"I think I'm gonna throw up," you mumble, your breathing shaky as Mingyu pulls you into his chest. His fingers are warm against the back of your neck, squeezing softly as your forehead rests against his shirt — you can feel how fast his heart is beating as his necklace digs into your face, hearing him try to regulate his breathing and wrapping his arms around you tightly. You swallow a sob, but he just pulls the cap off your head, resting his cheek on top of your hair.  

"It's okay. We're okay, we're alive." His voice is full of air as he squeezes the back of your neck again, your eyes watery as you squeeze them shut, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as you let a breath out. He keeps you close until you've stopped trembling, his hand squeezing your arms and neck, running up and down your back. "God, that carcass made me so nauseous." 

You let out a snort, the reality of it all hitting you in the face. You're actually in this world right now, surrounding by things that the government created to hurt its own people. You're in the woods with this stranger named Kim Mingyu, who is annoying to the point that it's slightly endearing, and you can feel your breakfast unsettled in your throat. You let out a humorless laugh, your shoulders shaking as the laughter takes over your body.  

"What the hell is so funny?"  "I should be in Germany. That's what's so funny." 

You pull back, wiping at your eyes as another hysterical chuckle slips from your lips. "I should be in Germany! Instead, I'm letting a man I don't know take me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere and opening up about myself when I could be falling in love and being successful in Germany!" 

He nods, his hands moving to hold your cheeks. His thumbs stroke the skin of your face gently, before he lets go and tugs your cap back on. He grabs your hand, taking the water bottle from your other hand and slipping it back onto his rucksack. 

"Come on, we're a few miles out from another cavern." He mumbles, holding your hand tightly as he pulls you flush to his hip, his eyes alert as you both move through the forest tensely. Every footstep is too sudden, your hands tight around each other and you mouth a silent prayer to whatever God is out there to calm you the hell down. Mingyu is in no better shape, opting to constantly glance down at you when he thinks you're not looking — but he doesn't break eye contact when you meet his. He only blinks at you, gaze roaming your face before turning back to the unmarked forest floor.  

"Are you upset with me?" His voice is soft, meek even; your hand squeezing his lightly before you lean your head against his arm with a sigh. 

"Never," you shrug. "It's scary. I'm scared, and you're just as human as I am. I could literally feel your pulse going crazy. We're fine. You don't have to be brave all the time, you know? Fear is human." 

"You're like a quarter. Both sides different, but still the same coin." He sighs, lolling his head back before rolling his shoulders, not letting you question him about what that meant. "My back fucking hurts." 

"Thought you said it didn't."  "Yeah, well sometimes I lie."  "To save face?" 

"Absolutely." He nods, rolling them back once more. "I can't be a wimp in front of a pretty girl; it's like shitting my pants." 

"That's a bad analogy, whatever the fuck you were trying to say."  "That it's embarrassing, princess." 

"That's such a horrible analogy, Mingyu." You wrinkle your nose, choosing to will the flutter in your belly away as you reach a shadier part of the woods. He keeps you close to his hip as he peers ahead, your cheek beginning to stick to his arm as you both sweat. You can only imagine how much his back hurts, the heavy rucksack moving with every roll of his shoulders. You glance down at his watch, the blurry face reading 4:53 PM. 

"We still have so many hours left to our day." You groan quietly, feeling his thumb rub at the side of your hand in attempts to comfort you. "How long until we get to this cavern?" 

"An hour or so. Don't worry, you can lie down as soon as we get there." He nods affirmingly, and you sigh as you force your eyes to stay open, the heat making your exhaustion set in much faster. You remind yourself that Mingyu is just as tired, if not more, and in pain as you put one foot in front of the other for what feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, another slight clearing appears. Your eyes widen as you take in the height of this cavern — seemingly man-made but ancient. The trees have grown around it, warping around the entrance and mosses have overtaken the exposed rock. There is yet another spring below, but you can't bring yourself to bathe. You're too tired, and unfortunately, still very shaken up – even as Mingyu's touch grows increasingly comforting. 

And confusing to your wildly beating heart. 

"Here it is," he says plainly, pulling you in front of him as you both make it to the steps. "This was made hundreds of years ago, passed through generations before the last owner died and left it to the people that live in the cabins up in the colony. We opened it to the hikers; there's a sign on the north hill for it. It's just kind of a refuge now; it's kind of an unspoken rule that we have to keep it clean and tidy if we want it to stay usable."  

You nod along to what he's saying, your thighs burning slightly as you make up the stone steps with his hands on your lower back. The entrance has a battery-powered lamp hidden inside the corner, and Mingyu grabs it, turning it on and illuminating the entire cavern. There isn't much to see — some dying potted flowers in the corner, a small window with glued sticks as a muntin. As you step in; a hinged door, oddly shaped but perfect for the entrance. You step inside cautiously, your foot landing on a soft rug. It's almost like a small apartment, except there is dust everywhere and you're certain there is a spider in the upper left corner of the wall. You glance down at the rug; a large sun embroidered in orange thread staring back up at you as you look at Mingyu. 

He's not looking at you; his eyes are closed as he leans against the entrance of the cavern – a weary sigh falling from his lips as he forces one foot in front of the other, stepping inside and letting his bag fall off his shoulders. He reaches to close the door, a wince crossing his features as he manages to drag the locks in place quickly. 

"Hungry? I can go catch something, it'll be quick." His tone is pained as he rubs his shoulder with a grimace, and you just shake your head as you toe off your shoes, dropping your bag onto the ground with a stretch. 

"Maybe later, I'm not that hungry." You let a shudder fall off your frame as you kick your shoes into the corner, grabbing the rucksack and hauling it against the wall. You tug the sleeping bag out, unzipping it and laying it out on the ground as Mingyu sits on a milk crate that's next to the lamp, fiddling with the brightness as you toss the cap on top of his bag. You pull the water out of his bag pockets, reaching into the main slot and pulling out two oranges. 

"I thought you said you weren't hungry?" Mingyu's voice rings in your ears as you kneel in front of him, pulling at the laces of his boots. "Let me go catch something—" 

"Can you shut up?" Your voice is gentle, holding no malice as you tug his boots off one at a time. You toss them to the side of the room, watching him lean against the wall of the cavern with an uncomfortable sag to his shoulders. You pat the sleeping bag, "come. Lay down, I'll peel an orange, and you can sleep." 

"I can peel my own orange."  "Or you can just let me do it for you." 

He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you move out of the way, patting the sleeping bag again. He reluctantly slides off the milk crate, and you take his place as you sink your nails into the orange skin. He turns uncomfortably, grunting softly as he lays on his side, looking up at you. You raise your brows, smiling softly before crossing your legs at the knee. 

"Something on your mind?"  "I didn't reapply sunscreen every two hours and we didn't stretch properly. Are you feeling okay?" 

"I'm fine, gosh." You roll your eyes, carefully keeping the peel together as you move around the orange. He sits up painfully, "but—" 

"No buts, Kim Mingyu. I'm okay." You nod affirmatively, before pointing your pinky finger at him, "it's you I'm worried about. You and your back. I watched you walk down the boulders this morning, you hold a lot of tension in your traps and deltoids, and even a bit in your acromion." 

"It's like you're speaking Klingon to me right now, princess." He blinks up at you with drowsy eyes, resting his chin in his palm as you roll your eyes. 

"Your back, you hold a lot of tension in your upper back from the fucking bag." You jerk your thumb in the direction of the brown rucksack, but he just shrugs as if it doesn't make him want to stiffen forever.  

"I'll just take a hot bath when we get back to the cabin. I'll be fine." He mutters as you split the orange in half, and you slide off the milk crate onto your knees in front of him. You offer a slice, only for him to open his mouth lazily. You slip it past his lips, before eating one yourself with a shake of your head. 

"Hot bath is not enough, you need a cold one, too. Maybe even a massage, and I can help with that." You say pointedly, and he rolls his eyes again, turning away from you defiantly. You chuckle, leaning over his broad frame and holding another orange slice to his lips. He takes it, chewing carefully as you hold another in front of him. "What are you so afraid of? Relief?" 

"Nothing, I'm just not used to the touching." He repeats your words back at you, and you scoff.  

"You had a partner!"  "Two years ago, I had a partner two years ago. And what if I moan or something? Isn't that embarrassing?"  "That's literally normal. It's only weird if you make it weird, tons of people moan during massages. Even I've done it." 

He pouts, his lip touching the side of your finger as you tap the orange slice to his mouth. He takes it, and you pat his shoulder. "It'll bring you lots of relief. I wouldn't offer if I didn't know what I was doing, you know. I'm not going to hurt you, not on purpose, anyway." 

"I know." He mumbles, picking at a loose thread in the sleeping bag. 

"Let me just work out a few knots," you whisper, hearing him groan exaggeratedly as you lightly tap your knuckles into his back. He sits up, meeting your eyes with a tired look in his, "what if you're a bad masseuse? What if you're just talking up your skills? I won't even know until my back still hurts in the morning." 

"At least try me out, damn." You scoff in mock offense, shoving an orange slice in your cheek as you pluck at his shirt. "Take it off. Lay down on your stomach, and you can put your arms under your head if you want." 

He tongues his cheek, "what if it hurts?" 

"It's going to hurt a little bit. You're already in pain, but this will be more of a release pain. Not a pent-up pain," you shrug, before tilting your head towards his bag. "You have any oil or lotion in that bag? Even the sunscreen is fine, too, if you don't." 

He shifts, thumbing at the hem of his shirt before sighing. "There's a bottle of almond oil at the bottom. It's in a bag so it wouldn't make a mess." 

You nod eagerly, crawling over to it and flipping the bag open. You dig around through the items, your eyes widening at the hidden pistol at the bottom. It's covered with a sheath, seemingly never used as you hear the thwip of Mingyu's shirt being pulled off. You shake your head slightly, spotting the oil in a bag and grabbing it before closing the bag. You turn to see Mingyu's teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stretches his arms behind him. 

"Stop stretching, fool. Lay down." You nudge his thigh with your foot, and he swats you away as he reluctantly does as he's told. You open the bag, taking the oil out to read the front, almond oil. "Oh, this is gonna smell so nice. At the place I worked, we'd heat this up and the rooms would smell for days." 

You kneel next to him, popping the cap of the oil as he shifts slightly "We can stop any time, just let me know, okay?" 

"Are your hands cold?"  "No, they just smell like oranges."  "Great, now all the bugs are gonna want me." 

"At least someone does," you snort, earning a swat from his hand as you snicker. You pour a bit of oil on your hands, warming it in your palms as you lean over him. "Tell me about your life. Anything." 

"What happened to not wanting to get attached?"  "Sometimes I lie." 

You don't show any emotion on your face as he turns his head to look at you, only giving him a raise of your brows before tapping the side of your hand on his ribcage. "Go on. Talk to me." 

He looks a bit skeptical, settling his head back on his arms as you slide your slicked hands onto his skin. He flinches slightly as you lightly dig your fingers into the tense muscles, running up the marks of the bruising. "Uh…so I used to play football. That's how I got my scholarship." 

"What position did you play?" You wrap your hands lightly around his shoulders, squeezing softly as he tries not to squirm, "I was a wide receiver for the first year, then a quarterback the rest of my time on the team. I would've made captain but I graduated early." 

"Athletic, smart, hardworking…and ridden with guilt. What a dreamboat." You tease, digging your thumbs into his shoulder blade. He scoffs, almost a grunt, "shut up. I'm sure you've got your own demons." 

"Skeletons in my closet are few but sentimental," you admit, your skin prickling as you hear a soft gasp fall from his lips as you work through a small knot. "But we're not talking about me." 

"Fine," he huffs, the heel of your palm digging just under his shoulder. "What do you want to know?" 

"Whatever you wanna tell me. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Do you think you're a bad kisser? Do you have a favorite color? Ever considered modeling?" You shrug, all the questions nonchalant as he hums, "what would you do with your life if you weren't an architect?" 

"Well, I'm not an architect anymore, so I'd probably be doing this." He says pointedly, biting down on his lip as you press your thumbs into his lower back. You tap the skin softly, making him jolt as you snicker, "what about the rest of my questions?" 

"Well, let me get to them!" He squirms as you slide your hands deeper, your thumbs settling in the dip of his spine comfortably.  

"You've got back dimples. Cute."  "Shut up."  "They're cute. You're so cute." 

He doesn't reply, but you watch the tips of his ears turn pink as he buries his face into his arms. 

"You fluster easily?" Your voice has a coolness to it that you've never heard, but you don't care as you watch the flush crawl down his cheeks. "Oh, you're adorable." 

"Will you stop that?" His voice is whiny as you laugh, softly digging your fingers into the skin. "I like red. The color." 

"Is there any other red?"  "You know what—" 

"Shh, just answer my questions." You smile inwardly as you slide your hands back up, finding another knot under the bruises. You work your fingertips into the muscle gently, watching his brow furrow as he clears his throat.  

"Ice cream…I like strawberry. Sometimes vanilla, but strawberry is usually the contender. There was a creamery I used to go to a lot as a kid, and I never chose the flavor because the auntie who worked there gave me strawberry the first time I ever went. So, I got it every time until we got an ice cream maker at the cabin, and we just started making our own." He sighs as the knot slowly starts to give, your palms hot against his skin, "as for the modeling, I did a bit of that too, for money. I posed for the photography students, and I was semi-nude for the art students for a semester." 

"Semi-nude? You're so scandalous," you chide, smoothing your palms over his shoulders once more. He sucks his teeth in response, opening his mouth to say something but you hear his breath hitch as your fingers slide under the necklace, squeezing the sides of his neck. You lean down slightly, "so, are you a bad kisser?" 

"You can't ask me that. It's in poor taste."  "Oh, you're such a bad kisser."  "What would you know, virgin?" 

"Hey!" You pout, squeezing the back of his neck lightly, digging your thumbs into the skin as he bites back a groan. "I told you that in confidence!" 

"Last I checked, we're here alone, sweetness. And you didn't tell me that, I just confirmed it." He grunts into his arm, a muttered fuck falling from his lips as you run your hands down his shoulders tightly. You feel your cheeks grow hot, shifting on your knees as you clear your throat. 

"Yeah, well. It's one of my only secrets, so I expect you to guard it with your life." You grumble back, rubbing your hands down the length of his back with slight pressure. You squeeze his side, your fingers coming to pull at his necklace as you lean down further, "did you hear me, Kim Mingyu?" 

"Yeah," his cheeks are burning red as his voice comes out a bit breathless, turning his head to face away from you. You lean over his body, finding his eyes open as he glances at you out of the corner of them. You give him a pointed look, making him huff as he closes them. "Yes, I heard you." 

"Thank you."  "It's not like I was going to tell anyone, anyway." 

"I don't know that," you say, leaning back onto your legs and patting the dip in his shoulders. "Feeling better?" 

"I feel tired." He mutters, wrapping his arms tighter under his head as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. He lifts his head up, giving you a defiant look with pursed lips before clicking his tongue, "you're pretty good, I guess." 

"You guess?" You snort, tapping his side. "I can keep going until you fall asleep, if you want. I'll turn the light off, too." 

"What about you, though?" 

"What about me?" You question, dropping the closed bottle of oil into the bag and sealing it, putting it aside as you peer at him through your lashes. 

"Aren't you sore? Tired? Shouldn't you sleep, too?" 

You shrug, "my bag isn't as heavy, and I just need to stretch a bit. I'll do it in the morning, probably take a bath, too. I'm just offering because you're actively in pain, more than I am. Just take it as a thank you." 

"You don't need to thank me."  "But I want to, and this is the only way I can."  "Tell me about yourself instead. I'll take your thanks that way." 

"Nope." You shake your head, untucking your legs from under yourself and stretching them out. You take your socks off as he sits up, a pout on his lips as he gets in your face. 

"Come on! You asked me all those questions and I answered!"  "You answered because you have no self-preservation skills. That's a problem." 

"I've kept you alive for two days!" He shoves your shoulder lightly, and you turn your head to look at him, glancing at the spot where he touched your shoulder. He swallows carefully, fixing the sleeve of your shirt where his fingers wrinkled it. "Sorry." 

"I kept myself alive for much longer, but fine," you roll your socks, squeezing your calves with your hands as you bend at the waist. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around your knees and bringing them to your chest. "What do you want to know?" 

"Whatever you wanna tell me."  "You suck at this." 

"You're so mean." He huffs, resting his cheek against your shoulder. You try not to stiffen, opting to continue running your fingers down your shins as you clear your throat, "Mingyu." 

"Fine." He shifts, instead resting his chin higher up. "What's your favorite color? Have you ever considered modeling? Do you think you'd be a bad kisser?" 

"You're so unoriginal." You snicker, making him scoff. "Fine, why are you braless in the middle of the woods?" 

"First of all, a raccoon stole my bra, like, two weeks into this mess! That's not my fault!" You gape, your brows furrowing as you turn to face him. He's really close, his eyes boring into yours as you wrinkle your nose at him, "you're such a man. Of course you'd notice." 

"Or, I have my chin on your shoulder, and I don't feel the strap."  "I could've gone strapless."  "There's no support in those things."  "You saying I need support?" 

"I'm saying you seem like a reasonable person, and no reasonable person likes strapless bras." He rolls his eyes, and you bite back your smile as you turn away from him. "Are you going to answer my questions or not?" 

"My favorite color is green. I was a nude model for a portrait class last year and no, I don't think I'd be a bad kisser. There is skill in the yearning." You shrug the shoulder he's not perched against, and he gasps in feigned shock. 

"Fully nude?"  "Fully nude. It was a bunch of girls, and most of them were my friends, anyway."  "But you called me scandalous for semi-nude?" 

"I'm a woman, it's different. Women have this gravitational beauty that men just don't possess. It's the same feeling you get when you look at, I don't know, the Northern Lights, or the moon, or the ocean." You quip, turning to face him again. "I'm sure you'd agree." 

He tongues his cheek, eyes burning into yours before he shrugs. "I would but that's just—" 

"Shut up."  "But I have more questions."  "Then ask them, loser."  

He leans his cheek against your shoulder, eyes round and wet as he stares up at your face. You raise a brow, your gaze pointed as he wrinkles his nose at you. 

"What is your dream partner like?" His voice is soft, his arms crossing on his bare chest; the face of his watch blinking at 9:43 PM. You hum, your tongue darting out to wet your lips again. His eyes follow the movement, before shamelessly looking back up at you. 

"I don't know, actually." You admit, "I just hope he's sweet. A nice guy, but he has to be nice to everyone, you know? The aunties, kids, animals, too, because I don't like assholes. Uhm, I like lip gloss, so he'd have to be okay with me wearing it, and I like it when they dress nice. Also, when they smell nice. And I like a man that can eat, too. I don't know."  

"You wear lip gloss?" He's gentle as he asks, and you move away carefully. You grab your bag, leaning back with it in your lap. He lingers behind you, and you move back enough and bring your hand up to rest his cheek on your shoulder again. He goes without resistance, watching you open your bag and pull out the folded clothes. You reach into the bottom, taking out the sparkly pink tube of bubblegum lip gloss and holding it up to the light. 

"I used to collect them before the outbreak. I had at least two in every bag, all sorts of flavors and colors. I don't like this one all that much, that's how you can tell I wasn't really expecting this to seriously happen." You laugh humorlessly, unscrewing the cap and giving it a soft sniff. It was brand new, still sweet with the scent as you close it. 

"Put it on, let me see." Mingyu nudges you, and you scoff, "it's just sparkly. There's nothing more to it." 

"Let me be the judge of that." He huffs, making you roll your eyes as you uncap it again, reluctantly putting it on. The formula is a little sticky, but it tastes fine as some of it seeps into your mouth. You wipe the corners of your lips, seeing Mingyu watch you intently out of the corner of your eye. 

"Up to your standards, Mr. Kim?"  "You're so pretty when you shut up, you know that?" 

He's rolling his eyes almost too hard, but you just smile widely as his cheeks flush once more. 

"You've done that a lot, you know." You mention slowly, putting the things away in the bag and sliding the lip gloss on top before zipping it up and tossing the bag aside. 

"Done what a lot?"  "Call me pretty. Five times, actually. And you called me cute three times." 

"You're keeping count?" He asks pointedly, before you give him an annoyed look. "So what? I can't have eyes?" 

"Sure, you can, I just know that you're gonna fall in love with me." You jest, hearing him click his tongue, "would that be so bad? I'd say I'm pretty cool, the aunties love Kim Mingyu. And I don't care if you wear lip gloss, I like the way it looks on you."  

"You met me yesterday," you deadpan, and he gives you a look that says so? 

"I can still think you're pretty. I can think whatever I want; which is why I think you're smart, and strong, and mean, and you're pretty but that won't change." He shrugs, "you're…something. I can't quite figure it out, but I will." 

"Or you could give up." You wiggle your brows, "it's not that serious. The world is ending." 

"Then why are you so resilient?" He whispers, his eyes intense as he leans slightly closer. "Why are you so intent on staying alive if you're so convinced there is nothing to live for?" 

You blink at him, lips parting before he leans forward slightly.  

"If you didn't think there was something worth living for, you would've easily given up on yourself ages ago. I wouldn't have found you literally licking your wounds, and you wouldn't have let me feed you, or bandage you up. You would've looked that mountain lion in the eyes and taunted it, and then you'd be dead." He shrugs, his breath hitting your lips as your jaw tightens slightly. "So, stop acting like the world is ending. It's not. It doesn't end until you want it to, and even then, I won't let you think that way. Life isn't over because of this. Life doesn't end, ever. It keeps going, so you keep going." 

He's so close that the tip of his nose brushes yours, "stop playing both sides of the coin. Either you're in it, or you're not. And as far as I can tell, you're in. So, stay in." 

You can't tear your eyes away from him, your breath hitched in your throat as you stare at each other. A beat passes, a minuscule beat where you glance down at his lips — before you move back from him, wiping the back of your hand across your lips. Glitter smears over your skin with the thin layer of lip gloss, and you move behind him to turn the lamp off. He says nothing, allowing you to lay on your side and face the wall. You curl your knees to your chest, staring at the light bleeding through the window that illuminates the room.  

He shifts behind you, a groan as he likely lays on his back. You say nothing, even when his voice whispers good night. 

You can't sleep.  

Mingyu took his watch off at some point, tossing it to the side and you saw it blinking lightly above your head, reading twenty minutes until one in the morning. His eyes are closed, back rising and falling steadily as you turn for what feels like the hundredth time, facing him as he sleeps shirtless and on his belly. You're shivering slightly, the cold of the night seeping in through the floor as you wrap your arms around yourself. 

You think about what he said. Not because it bothered you, of course not… 

You just didn't like to be seen that way, to be perceived further than what little information you voluntarily offer about yourself: architecture student, design snob, mean girl who doesn't need anyone. You had a problem with accepting whether this was something you could be positive about, and you think that of all people, Mingyu could understand — a life set in stone, something you'd wanted for so long…just ripped away. The idea of becoming great in what you wanted versus the reality in becoming great for survival were two different things, and while you knew you'd done well in keeping yourself alive…a part of you wonders what would've happened if you'd made it to Germany. If the outbreak happened after you left, if you would've managed to escape the hurt in your chest when your parents on the island stopped picking up your calls. 

Or the way your mind flashes the day you hit the pavement falling out of your first-floor window, falling away from your two lifelong friends that you'd never get to see again. All because of a loser in downtown that opened fire against public health for no reason other than stupidity and selfishness. 

You simply wonder, but wondering does nothing for your bitter heart as you watch Mingyu sleep soundly; a shiver sweeping through your body as you give in to your heart's incessant tugging. 

"Mingyu." You whisper, but he doesn't open his eyes. A huh is heard, soft and sleepy, before you speak slightly louder. "Mingyu." 

He doesn't respond, only sighing and lifting his arm, his fingers beckoning you to come closer. You nibble on your lip for a second, before he reaches over and curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You move with it, letting him tuck you into his chest before pulling your side of the sleeping bag over your shoulder. You're engulfed with warmth, his arm holding you close to him as you feel him move your leg over his hip, your cheeks heating before you hide your face in the dip of his neck, his necklace cool against your lips and cheek. 

"Sorry." You mumble, but he just squeezes his arm around you lightly before you feel the ghost of his lips on the shell of your ear.  

"S'okay, princess. Can't sleep?" He sighs, his palm rubbing circles into your back as he drums his fingers in tandem. Your nose is filled with a mix of him as you bury your nose deeper into his neck, "it's just cold in here." 

"You'll warm up soon." He mumbles, his hand sliding up to palm at the back of your neck. Your skin prickles slightly as he squeezes, breath hitching in your throat as your face is engulfed in a hot flush. His thumb traces circles into the side of your neck, "wear your lip gloss tomorrow. I like it." 

"Think I'm gonna do stuff just because you like it?" Your voice isn't nearly as confident as you move back to look up at him, his eyes still closed as he shrugs. 

"I think you should do stuff because you wanna, but if you want to do it because I like it—"  "Mingyu." 

He laughs tiredly, and you scowl inwardly as you rest your forehead on his bare chest.  

"You're cute, Y/N."  "Why are you messing with me right now? Aren't you sleeping? Go to sleep."  "I can't sleep when you're tossing and turning. I was just waiting for you to tell me you were cold." 

"Pft." You grumble, trying to turn out of his hold when he tightens his arm around you, sliding down a bit to be eye level with you. He's hovering over you slightly, eyes teasing, tired, as they look down at you. Your blush grows hotter as he blinks down, your fingers curling into fists as you lamely hit his shoulder. "You're taking advantage of the fact that I'm cold." 

"If anything, I think you are doing that. It's been cold before, when you were on your own. You managed." He raises a brow, his fingertips drumming against your back again. "If you wanted to cuddle, you could've just said that." 

"I don't."  "Then move." 

He lifts his arm up, giving you a pointed look as you cross your arms on your chest. You chew your cheek, looking away from him as you click your tongue. "You're being mean." 

"You're not being honest."  "Mingyu!" 

"Stop whining and tell me what you want, babe." He quips, "you're cute." 

"That makes four times, you know. Or five, actually." You mutter, clenching your jaw repeatedly to will the stupid flutter in your chest away before groaning. "Can you just hold me? Please? I'm tired and I'm cold and I just wanna go to sleep." 

He doesn't respond, wrapping his arm around your waist once more and holding you close. Your cheek is smushed with his as your arm drapes around his side, your fingers dangling over his back. If he feels your lips curve into a smile against his jaw, he says nothing — but you feel his frame relax under the weight of your limbs wrapped around him, his arm under your head bending at the elbow to pat the back of your head. His fingers run through your hair soothingly, your eyes fluttering shut as you whisper thank you against his skin. 

"Good night, sweetness." 

MINGYU IS STILL ASLEEP WHEN YOU GET BACK FROM YOUR BATH. 

You'd escaped his grip without waking him just forty minutes earlier — and you're grateful you did, because you can't be blamed for the insane butterflies filling your stomach. He'd been fully on top of you once more, his head resting between your breasts and his hand slipped into yours, pinning it next to your head. He'd been snoring softly, pouting in his sleep with every inch you managed to move away, but eventually turned on his side as you wiggled away. You took a deep breath then, covering your face with your hands and feeling the heat of your skin against your palms.  

You can't lie and say you didn't curse everything that got you into this mess — but you absolutely hate the idea of the crush you knew was forming in your chest. A crush, your mother always said, is a lack of information. And boy, do you lack information right now. 

But something about him makes you not want to care. You want to throw caution to the wind, you want to let him hold you close every single night, you want to rub his back until he falls asleep, you want to wear lip gloss for him, and you want him to kiss you. You want to kiss him, over and over until you can’t breathe. 

Until you need him to breathe. 

You wonder if this shows how inexperienced you are, how easy it was for him to get into your head. His words, his help…his spirit and incessant need to keep going when the world is crumbling around him. 

But he's just you in another person, isn't he? Smart, strong, resilient…and full of guilt.  

So full of guilt — but his is from the past, and yours is from the present, from the thundering in your chest caused by him and his casual touching that you welcome without a word, by him and his ability to show fear despite wanting to be brave and succeeding. 

Him, and how easily you felt seen, and how you've never, ever given in so easily. 

Not to your feelings, not to your circumstances, not to a man.  

You've religiously fought against every single odd in your life. Every single fight with your parents, every argument with your friends that left you in a puddle of furious tears, every single stepping stone that was set slightly higher for you because you're a girl. A girl with dreams and aspirations and a need to be the top of your class, the best in your department. 

A girl with the incessant need to be great. 

And you feel a little foolish to think that a few words from a man, a man you don't know, can make you realize that greatness can be found in anything. You hate it, honestly, because then, your mother is right. Your father is right, everyone who has ever told you to take it easy has been right — greatness is found everywhere, and your father's voice echoes in your mind from the night you left the island for Yonsei. 

"You are going to shine, because you are a star. Stars shine everywhere, so just take it easy, kid. We'll be here when you get back, in all your greatness." 

And now, they're gone. 

Just like Jian, and Jieun. 

Just like all the boys you never kissed, and all the boys that gathered the strength for weeks to tell you what Mingyu has been able to say so easily — that you're strong, smart, pretty. And you're only more skeptical of him as you realize just how easy it is for him to talk to you like that; like you're prey he's about to sink his teeth into, like you're going to fall in love with him and it'll be the best thing in your life for three months before he decides to find another, or that you're just simply not enough. Not experienced enough, not smart enough, not strong enough to keep maneuvering a world like this — where nothing is for certain. 

Not enough. 

You feel guilt seep into your bones as you glance down at him from your spot in the entrance, your hair dripping down your shirt — his shirt, the one he was wearing when he found you. The brown one with KMG stitched into his chest pocket, and the lace of your pink underwear peeking through the bottom as you feel your eyes burn with tears. 

You move around quietly — covering yourself in sunscreen, peeling yourself an orange and grimacing at the taste after the toothpaste tablet. You wash your clothes, letting them dry on the steps, you stretch fully and even massage your feet lightly. You bandage your hand up, replacing your moleskins as silently as possible before slipping your socks on and tugging your jeans on.  

You stare at the tube of lip gloss at the bottom of your bag, your heart fluttering as you swipe on a thin layer — before wiping it off with the back of your hand. You shove it back in the bag, your hands gripping the fabric before you toss it onto the steps and grab a carrot out of Mingyu's rucksack. 

You watch the sun rise by yourself on the steps of the cavern, nibbling on the carrot when you hear a grunt from inside. You lean back slightly, peering into the entrance to see him stretching his arms over his head, his hair mussed with sleep.  

He looks around for a second, patting the side of the sleeping bag when he sees you looking at him from the entrance. You give him a curt nod, pressing your lips together before tapping your wrist and looking away.  

He moves about — you listen to him brush his teeth, put things in his bag, shoving his boots on before stepping out with an apple in his mouth and your shoes in his hand. His watch blinks 6:39 AM, and you feel him pull his cap over your head as you grab your shoes from him. 

"Why didn't you wake me?" He murmurs, sitting next to you to lace up his boots. You scoot over slightly, your thigh still brushing his as you shrug, chewing far too much for your small bite of the carrot. He gives you a pointed look, sighing before turning slightly. "Did I make you upset? Did I do something? Say something?" 

You don't respond verbally, shaking your head as you tug your shoes on; and that's when he notices you're fully dressed, and your hair is damp. He leans back slightly, your indifference making his eyes narrow as he studies you. You don't acknowledge it, tying your shoes and finishing your carrot in two bites.  

"We should get moving." You murmur, and his brow furrows as you move to get up. His hand grabs your ankle before you can move away, looking up at you with confusion in his eyes. 

"What's with you? Is this about last night?"  "What about last night, guy?"  "You tell me, princess." 

You roll your eyes, shaking his hand off your ankle like a bug off your hand before turning to grab your bag. You slide it over your shoulders, hooking your thumbs in the straps before making your way down the steps. You stop a few steps from the bottom, looking over your shoulder. 

"Come on. We don't have forever, you know." 

Mingyu seems taken aback at your change in attitude, and you kind of applaud yourself for staying in character. You hear him slowly stand, and you make your way to the forest floor as he barrels down the steps. You walk forward until you feel him move you in the right direction, and then you pull away from his fingers. You roll your shoulders back, gripping the straps of your backpack as if they'll keep you sane. 

You don't speak for a while. He gives you wayward glances that you don't bother meeting, holding his hand out with every hill that needs descending, but you don't take it. He grows a little stiff in front of you, awkwardly sliding his hands in his pockets as the sun starts to grow hot with the waning morning. 

You look around diligently as you both walk, your eyes still a bit tired from your late-night tossing and turning. You'd woken up twice during your slumber, both cause of odd flashes in your dreams about the very same mountain lion you'd seen yesterday — only to be soothed back to sleep by the feeling of Mingyu's heart beating steadily against your ear. You scowl inwardly, keeping your eyes trained to the ground and kicking pebbles out of your way. 

Mingyu stops abruptly, making you bump into his back, hitting your forehead on the clip that holds his sleeping bag. You grimace, rubbing at the skin when he turns around with a frown, his arms crossed on his chest as he peers down at you. 

"I can't keep going in silence. Tell me what I did." 

"Why do you think what you do is so important to me? Why do you think you're that worthy of having an effect on me?" You snap, sucking your teeth as you let your hand fall from your forehead, "not everything is about you. It's not like what I do will matter to you this much, so just leave me be." 

"Oh, this is so about me." He scoffs, letting out a humorless laugh. "What the hell is the problem? What did I do?" 

"You're confusing me! That's what you're doing!" You scream, screwing your eyes shut and covering them with your hands before letting out a defeated groan. "You ask me questions like you care, you touch me like it's second nature and you say nice things to me like you don't need reciprocity. You act like you're just this nice guy, and you tell me all this shit about how resilient I am as if I don't know. I know I'm strong, okay? I know I am, it's all I've ever been. I don't need you to tell me and I don't want to hear it anymore, because I want to have a chance where I don't need to be any of that!" 

Your breathing is shallow as you wipe at your face, unaware at the tears streaming down them. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, and you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes so hard you see splotches of color amidst the darkness. 

"I need you to stop acting like I'm the only girl in the world. The cuddling, the teasing, the casual touching, holding hands and all of that…it has to stop. I can't do it. I don't know what it's like to be liked, much less to like someone. I have a weak mind and a weaker heart, and you're confusing me. Just let me be if nothing will become of it." 

Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you can't bring yourself to look at him as you sniffle. You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, crossing your arms on your chest as you glance at his watch. 

11:32 AM. 

"Keep moving. It'll be lunch time soon." You murmur, pushing past him to keep walking in the general direction. You get maybe three feet ahead of him when he finally starts moving. He doesn't say anything, just stepping ahead of you and trailing to the left. You follow silently, aside from the sniffling — watching the way his hands palm at the fabric of his shorts before he just stuffs them in his pocket. 

You entertain yourself by watching the time tick by on his wrist as you keep walking in silence — the sniffling stopping around 1:15 PM. You stop to eat, and he hands you things without looking at you; which somehow, hurts far worse than you could have imagined. He uncaps the water for you, he peels an orange for you, but he says nothing; only pulling his hand back if he brushes yours accidentally. 

And suddenly, the fullness of your belly can't win over the emptiness in your chest. 

You hadn't expected the day to go by so slowly. It feels agonizing — the heat of the sun on your back, the weight of your heart in your throat paired with a dryness in your mouth that no amount of water can quench. You ignore the worried glances he gives you as you bring the bottle to your lips again, his arms crossed on his chest as you cap it. 

The walk is uncomfortable. Sure, the dense trees bring a comforting refuge from the sun…but you can't stop thinking about him, even from ten inches away. You can't stop glancing at him every time he's in front of you, every time he instinctively reaches his hand out before retracting it, every time you almost take it. It's 3:29 PM before he finally speaks. 

"You're not the only one with a weak heart, you know. You're confusing me, too."  

It's all he says, keeping his voice gentle and quiet, his eyes trained forward as another clearing comes about. Instead of a field, you're met with what seems to be a newly constructed fence — heavy iron and lined with chicken wire at the bottom. He moves in front of the gate, kicking gravel around until the sparkle of a gold key catches your eye. You point at it silently, before he sees it and grabs it. He unlocks the gate, pushing it open slightly and poking his head in when you hear a shriek so loud that it makes you wince. 

"You're back! Mingyu's back!" It's a man's voice, and Mingyu is pushed back by whoever it is throwing himself at him. He doesn't stumble much, wrapping his arms around the guy with a smile. 

"I told you I would be, Chan. And we have company." He pats the man's back, who stiffens as more people gather around the open gate. More men stare back at you, their excited smiles turning to faces of horror as they lay their eyes on you. Gasps and chatter rise, and Chan embarrassedly drops from Mingyu's arms, avoiding your eyes as he clears his throat. 

"Introduce her, idiot." One of the men with thick brows speaks up, a pouty look to his lips as he crosses his arms on his chest. Mingyu scowls, "mind your damn business, she's not here for you." 

"It's not like she's here for you, either." Another one rolls his eyes, leaning against one of the posts. He's lanky, nimble fingers running through faded blond hair as he looks you up and down. "In jeans? You're brave. What's your name?" 

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as an embarrassed look glazes your face. "Uh…" 

"Y/N. Her name is Y/N, now let us in. Don't you know? We're really tired." Mingyu speaks mockingly, waving them all back before grabbing Chan's wrist and pushing through them. You follow hurriedly, taking the key off the lock and holding it between your fingers as they let you slink past and one of the men locks the gate behind you. You lose Mingyu in the gaggle of men, chattering heard as they all push him towards the cabin that towers over you — four stories, you think. You can't see that high. 

"She's cute," you hear someone whisper behind you, and you instinctively curl in on yourself before you hear a smack, followed by an ouch! 

"Shut up. Leave the girl alone, she's needs to feel safe here."  "I just said she was cute! I didn't mean anything weird by it!"  "You're a guy, Soonyoung. We're all guys. She's gonna take a while to get used to us, so don't make her uncomfortable." 

A grumble is heard, and you glance over your shoulder, the blond from before and another man with jet black hair behind you.  

"It's okay. Mingyu's called me cute five times." You hold up five fingers, his name heavy in your mouth as the man with the jet black hair elbows the blond. 

"See! It's not weird!" He scoffs, before holding his hand out. "I'm Soonyoung. This is—" 

"Minghao. I can introduce myself, thanks." He rolls his eyes as you turn to shake Soonyoung's hand, his fingertips cold against your skin. "You must've been scared out of your mind out there. Were you on your own?" 

"Uh, it's not really scary." You shrug, before shaking Minghao's hand. "I was alone from the beginning, so I just…adapted, I guess. I almost didn't let Mingyu help me." 

Minghao's eyes hold something you can't recognize, before his other hand covers yours. 

"You must be tired. Let's get you inside, hm? Seungcheol is making dinner." He pats your hand, before pulling you forward. You follow behind him, but his hand in yours doesn't make you feel anything different. It's just like holding hands with Jian or Jieun, or your parents — warm, kind. Just supportive, really, a guide. 

Holding Mingyu's hand makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

Not that you have a crush on Mingyu, anyway. 

You let them lead you to the front of the cabin, with Soonyoung taking the keys out of your hand and placing them in a bowl by the door. You step inside, immediately hit with a blast of cold air that makes your skin prickle. Minghao pulls you in, shutting the door behind you and pulling you closer, your hip bumping his as you walk through the open living room. 

"You should settle in. Let's see if Mingyu has a room for you." He squeezes your hand softly, before pulling you towards a hall closet. You see Mingyu's back inside, sorting through piles carefully. Minghao lets your hand go, "come downstairs when you're done settling in. We'll get you some food and you can meet everyone." 

"Okay. Uh, thanks, Minghao." 

"No problem, sweetheart." 

You miss the way Mingyu's back tenses at the pet name, but you turn back to see him holding a pair of navy blue shorts up. He shrugs, draping them over his forearm before grabbing a towel off the top shelf. He glances at it, touching the corners before putting it back and grabbing another one. He does the same, before nodding to himself and closing the door, a ring of keys around his wrist. 

He doesn't say anything as he turns to you, tilting his head towards the set of stairs to your right. You ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he turns without speaking, two steps at a time. You follow silently, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of your jeans as you look down hallways upon hallways of rooms. Some doors ajar, most closed — but your thighs are burning as you reach the fourth landing. 

"Jesus Christ, are we almost there?" You grouse, and he only chuckles inwardly before stopping in front of you. You frown up at him, but he just shrugs, leading you down the hall of several doors, before a blue one ends the hallway. The letters KMG mock you in white paint, before he turns to the one next to it. It's green. 

"This used to be a bed and breakfast before it came into my family. Hence, all the rooms." He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. He holds the items in his hand close to his chest before looking through the keys with one hand, before finding one with a matching green stripe on the bow. He unlocks the room carefully, opening the door to show a fully furnished room with pale pink walls and a cherry-print comforter. You feel your chest tight as he slips inside, setting the items in his hands down on the white desk in the corner.  

"There's pajamas in the bottom drawer, if they don't fit you, we can alter them. Uh, you have your own bathroom and a hair dryer, so don't worry about sharing. There's a radio, so you can listen to music or the news or whatever you want. There's a TV, and a VCR player because this place is kind of old, but everything still works. There is also a handful of different chargers in one of the desk drawers, I don't know if you brought anything with you but I'm sure you can find something compatible if you have a phone or something. The bed is yours, and so is the room, as long as you want it. And you get your key, so no one comes in here unless you want them to. Lights out by eleven, though, so just be a little quieter than normal if you're not going to bed. Oh, and there is a pair of slippers in the closet that you can have, so don't worry about walking around barefoot." 

You feel a little silly as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, nibbling on your lip as tears fill your eyes. You try to blink them back as you look around the room, the bathroom door ajar next to a white dresser with painted cherries. Mingyu looks up from the keys, holding the one to the room in his hand when you let out a shaky breath. His eyes widen, and you quickly turn away from him, wiping at your eyes and fanning at your face. 

"You can just leave the key." Your voice is thick, "thanks." 

He doesn't say anything, but his boots are heavy against the wooden floor as he stands behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating off him, only to feel his hand pull at your backpack. You let him take it off, crossing your arms on your chest as you glance over your shoulder to see him hanging it on a hook next to the bathroom door.  

"You don't have to stay, if you don't want to. You can pick any other room, but I chose this one for the sake of privacy. I'm the only other person on this floor, so feel free to move around. Just let me know, and I'll unlock another room for you." 

You nod, almost scared to step past the threshold — almost like it makes it real. That you have a bed again, a door that locks, a place to shower whenever you want. He sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets before stepping in front of you. 

"We don't have to talk, either, if you don't want to. Just…don't miss meals, okay?" His voice is soft, and you bite back the words in your mouth as he skirts around you. Your hand reaches for him, your fingertips brushing his wrist. He stops, glancing down at you as you tear your eyes away from the room in front of you. 

"Are you upset with me?" 

He shakes his head, his own fingers tapping the inside of your wrist as he moves away. 

"You set a boundary. No matter how I feel, I'm not going to overstep that. We're all good." He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He tries to move away again, but your fingers grab his elbow gently. He glances down at your hand, raising a brow as you quickly drop your hand. You clear your throat, and he turns to face you fully with a questioning look on his face. 

"What do you mean, how you feel?" 

He shrugs, the corner of his lip twitching into a lopsided smile.  

"I think you have this idea of romance that's kind of…misconstrued. It's not always like the movies, and it's not always like the examples of romance we see around us. Our parents, friends, etcetera…romance is different for everyone." 

You must look unimpressed, because he swipes his tongue over his teeth before he smiles. 

"Are you seriously mansplaining romance to me right now?"  "No, I'm telling you that it's not the same for everyone. I think romance can happen fast, and I think that one person can experience different kinds of romance throughout their lifetime. I think there's romance in everything, including the way you're staring at me like I'm a dumbass." 

"You are a dumbass." You mutter, "and I know what romance is. I know it's not the same for everyone, so you're just telling me shit I already know. So, you're a mansplainer." 

"Sure, but I'm also absolutely enamored with you. Smitten, bewitched. Under your spell, even." He admits gently, before turning on his heel. "Think about that, sweetness." 

You feel all the air sucked out of the atmosphere as he walks away, humming to himself as the keys jingle on his wrist. Your eyes are misty as you process the words out of his mouth, watching him walk confidently down the stairs like nothing has changed. You almost hate him, your heart beating normally just for a moment.  

Just a moment. 

The clock on your desk reads 9:22 PM. 

Instead of going downstairs, you settled into your room a bit; after crying your eyes out in the shower, you diligently stepped out and did little skincare with what was stocked in the bathroom, and swiped on a thin layer of your lip gloss before getting dressed. Mingyu had given you three shirts, three pairs of shorts, a pair of long pants, a bunch of socks and a zip-up. You were given a pair of boxers, and you limply laughed as you pulled them over your hips before pulling one of the black shirts over your head, only to see KMG embroidered on the pocket in pink thread. You hold back your tears, opting to dry your hair in the bathroom before digging through the mess of cables in your desk for one to charge your phone. You manage to find one, plugging it into the wall before turning on the radio to 105.7 Seoul City Central — your heart skipping as My Kind Of Woman by Mac DeMarco starts bleeding through the static. 

You leave it on, opting to pull the comforter back and examine the sheets when a bump in the hallway makes you jump. You still, feeling footsteps clambering on the wooden floor before you quietly tiptoe your way to the door. 

"Get off me!" You hear bickering in the hallway, but you don't recognize the voices. You twist the knob of your door, peeking your head out to see three men wrestling as Mingyu holds a tray in one hand with an unimpressed look on his face. Soonyoung is amongst the men, as is Chan and another man you've yet to meet. 

"I don't need a pack of wild animals following me to drop off food, you know." He puts his hand on his hip, steam rising off the plate as your stomach rumbles. The men on the ground continue horsing around, making Mingyu shake his head before rolling his eyes. You stare at the men on the ground with your brows raised, before your eyes flicker to Mingyu. He's watching them too, walking closer to your door before one of the men breaks free, and Chan starts screaming his head off as you cover your mouth with your hand. 

"Mingyu! They're pinching me!" Chan whines, as he tries to crawl away. Mingyu snorts, switching the tray in his hand to the other side before helping him up. Soonyoung continues to pin down whoever is beneath him, earning a shriek along the lines of not the nipple! 

"How many guys does it take to bring dinner up four flights of stairs?" You ask softly, and Soonyoung looks up from the man beneath him, nipples pinched painfully over the man's shirt. The man takes the chance and knocks him off, wrestling Soonyoung's arms to his sides and pinning them with his knees on either side. You cover your eyes as he twists Soonyoung's nipples through his shirt, a strangled yell ringing out as you bite back your laughter. Soonyoung manages to push him off, and they end up rolling down the stairs as you, Mingyu and Chan share a pursed-lip look until you all clear your throats in unison. 

"Usually, just the one. But, Chan here has something he wants to give you." Mingyu tilts his head in Chan's direction, who smiles shyly as you look at him. You give him a soft smile, "nice to meet you, Chan. I'm Y/N." 

"I know." He nods, before wincing. "I mean, it's nice to meet you, too. I just…I noticed you're not wearing earrings. I don't know if you wear them or not, but I have a pair I don't use. I just wanted to know if you'd like them."  

He holds up a plastic baggie, a tiny pair of gold hoops with small rubies dangling off. Your eyes widen, and you hold your hands up as he shakes his head, tucking them into your palm, "just take them. We were all new at some point." 

"I can't, really—"  "Good night, Y/N. Rest well." 

Chan waves as he skips off, leaving you with the earrings in your hand and Mingyu standing next to you. You look at the earrings in your palm, before trilling your lips as you look up at Mingyu. He's already looking at you, holding the tray out to you. Your eyes widen at the colorful array, reaching to take it before dropping your arms to your sides and moving out of your doorframe. He slips past, setting it on the desk as he turns the radio down. 

"Dinner. Soft tofu stew, rice, half an orange, and this yogurtade thing that Junhui likes; he made it for you. He was the one with Soonyoung." He nods, "oh, and this. Cake. Dark chocolate with raspberry filling, from Joshua. You didn't meet him yet, but I said you'd be up for it tomorrow. Hope that's okay." 

He gestures vaguely at the tray, "just leave it in the hallway if you don't want to go downstairs. I'll pick it up later." 

He pats the back of your desk chair, pulling it out for you. You silently take the seat, crossing your legs at the knee as tears fill your eyes for the third time. He coos, patting the back of the chair again before turning to leave, "enjoy." 

"Will you stay?" You blurt, looking at the earrings in your hand instead of him. You can feel the heat of his eyes, and you clear your throat as you shift in your seat, "I don't like eating alone." 

He hums in response, tapping the door before slipping out. You look up to see him opening his own door, light filling the hallway as he ducks inside. He comes back with a chair in his hand, closing the door behind him and sliding it next to yours. He closes your door gently, leaning back in his chair as you reach for the utensils on the tray. You run the pad of your thumb along the engraving on the spoon handle, blowing a breath out through your lips before setting it back down. 

“Thanks. For everything, you know.” You’re quiet as you stare at the steaming food, shifting slightly on the soft cushion of the chair. Your hair is still damp, your skin almost raw from how hard you scrubbed at yourself but it was the best feeling in the world. Your hands splay on your knees, tugging at the hem of the boxer shorts as he clicks his tongue. 

"You don't have to thank me. Just eat." He nods at the food, his eyes averting as your phone buzzes on desk as it turns on. Hundreds of notifications fill the screen, making the entire table buzz incessantly. He reaches over, carefully silencing it before turning it over. There is a photo of you holding up your acceptance letter to the internship in Germany stuck inside your phone case — one you'd meant to send back to Jeju before the outbreak. You'd slipped in there for safekeeping, only for it to find a permanent home there when you assumed the island was destroyed. 

You eat in silence, ignoring the tears building in your eyes as the warm meal fills your belly. Mingyu is quiet next to you, content with just sitting beside you and watching you eat, shifting slightly with every few bites. You only make it halfway through the slice of cake before you push it away. 

"Full?"  "Very."  "Want me to take it down?" 

"I can take it, just give me a minute." You shake your head, leaning your elbow against the back of the chair and using your hand to hold up your head as you look at him. He's relaxed, showered — donning another brown shirt, but in sweatpants and his watch is gone, replaced with a silver bracelet. His eyes are warm as you meet them, but you clear your throat and look away. 

"Are they nice? The guys?"  "Oh, yeah. A little annoying and loud at times, but sweet. They like to have fun." 

"Are you the only one who ventures the great outdoors for survivors?" You try to add some humor to your voice, but it's meek as you pick at your cuticles. He pulls your hands away from each other, and you instinctively interlacing your fingers with his. He doesn't pull away, watching you cross your legs at the knee. 

"I don't want them to get hurt. A few of them were pretty banged up when I found them, and Chan was wandering around bear territory a few miles south of here when I found him. I actually found him a month before I found you, so he's relatively new. And the youngest, by far." He nods, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. "His parents were jewelers. He had a bright future coming his way, too, but the outbreak took his parents, his brother and the business with them. He's been alone since, but…he's surprisingly positive. Quite the mood maker, actually." 

"That's so…wow." Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you glance at the tray. "I don't know my way around." 

"Come on, I'll show you." He grabs the tray with one hand, standing up carefully and keeping you flush to his hip. He barely makes it out of the bedroom when he glances at you, letting go of your hand and gesturing at the sweater you'd hung on the bedpost. "Put that on, you're not decent." 

"I thought you said they were nice guys?" You raise a brow, but indulge him anyway, zipping the sweater halfway up before pushing in your chair and moving his out of the way. He rolls his eyes, holding his hand out for you to take. You interlace your fingers again, letting him keep you close as you both make your way down the stairs. You grow a bit wary as you reach the first floor, squeezing Mingyu's hand as you tuck yourself behind him — a group of men gathered on the living room floor with bottles of soju and empty Yakult scattered around a table with playing cards. 

"Mingyu! Join us, Jeonghan can deal you in." Soonyoung calls, but he shakes his head, "Jeonghan is a cheater and I hate playing games with you, you're always on my dick about everything." 

"He's just mad because he's bad at mafia." Minghao mutters, and you snicker inwardly as Mingyu pulls you into the kitchen. "Wait, is Y/N with you!?" 

"That's none of your business!" He calls over his shoulder, rolling his eyes as you look around the kitchen, your eyes landing on the same man with the pouty lips scrubbing dishes with a set of pink dish gloves all the way up to his elbow. Mingyu sets the tray down on the island, and the man with the gloves looks up, brows furrowed, "this is Seungcheol. He's the oldest, he's actually an old friend from college. We played football together." 

Seungcheol gestures at the tray, "I'm not washing that. Everyone eats downstairs." 

"She's new, give her a break."  "It's not about her, it's about you. You made the rule, Gyu."  "Yeah, well. I didn't tell you to wash it, anyway." 

Seungcheol tongues his cheek, shaking his head before directing his gaze at you. "Was he this fucking annoying when he was bringing you back?" 

"Oh my God, yeah." You nod eagerly, feeling Mingyu's hand squeeze yours as Seungcheol laughs. "He was so annoying and invasive, asking me all these personal questions—" 

"Asking your name is not invasive!" He refutes, but Seungcheol is only amused as you hold up your interlinked hands. Mingyu huffs, pouting as he lets go of your hand; only for you to find it again as he tries to move away. You keep him at your hip, the warmth of his body comforting against your back. 

"Invasive." You reiterate, "but it's nice to meet you, Seungcheol. And I'll wash this, don't worry about it." 

"Nah, just leave it. I got it." He shakes his head, taking the dishes off the tray before looking at you pointedly. "But no more eating in your room. That's how we get ants, and you need to socialize. I heard you were alone out there, that's not good for your mind." 

"I'll try to eat down here more often, promise." You cross an X over your chest, and he nods, "rest well, okay? We can get better acquainted tomorrow." 

"Good night, Seungcheol."  "Good night, gorgeous." 

"Don't call her that." Mingyu grumbles, pulling you out of the kitchen before Seungcheol can quip back. You let him pull you along, glancing at the men in the living room once more to see them all looking at you. You give them a quick smile, only for Soonyoung to point at you and turn to the group, and Minghao rolls his eyes as the man's name fall from his mouth as you and Mingyu reach the bottom of the stairs. 

"Soonyoung—"  "See, Jeonghan? I told you she's cute! And Mingyu's keeping her to himself! Look at him, practically dragging her like a hostage—"  "Soonyoung, that's enough." 

He pouts, crossing his arms on his chest as the other men glance at you. 

"I'll be downstairs tomorrow, and we can all get to know each other. I swear I'm cool, I'm just…nervous." You give them a thumbs up, and Minghao just gives you a wave of his hand. 

"We're not going anywhere, sweetheart. You take your time." He nudges Soonyoung with his elbow, "and stop calling her cute. She's a lady." 

"Stop calling her anything that isn't Y/N. Her name is Y/N, call her that." Mingyu scoffs, earning an oooh from the group as he tugs you up the stairs. He tongues his cheek, grumbling to himself as you make it up the first two flights of stairs. 

"What did you mean by saying that you're 'enamored' with me?" You ask as you reach the first step of the third floor, and Mingyu clicks his tongue, "just that. Enamored." 

"Okay, yeah, but what does it mean?"  "Whatever you want it to mean, sweetness."  "Mingyu." 

"It means I'd kiss you, if you let me. If you wanted me to." He says softly, shrugging his shoulders like it's not a big deal. "I'd kiss you breathless, if you wanted me." 

You don't respond, your cheeks hot as you walk up the rest of the steps in silence. Your hand stays slotted in his, before you reach the fourth floor landing. Your hips bump as he walks you back to your bedroom, and you still in the threshold of the room. You glance around, and sure, it's yours — but it doesn't really feel like it. 

"Mingyu?" You look up at him, nibbling your lip as he hums in response. You tug on his hand, wanting his full attention as you speak, "Mingyu." 

"I'm listening, princess."  "Can I sleep in your room?" 

"But I'm invasive?" He jests, and you scoff, pulling your hand out of his when he grabs your arm, pulling you into him with a chuckle. "You don't get to make fun of me in front of my friends and then pout when I do it back. It's unfair." 

"I can do whatever I want," you huff, trying to twist yourself out of his hold when he spins you around to face him, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he looks down at you. You glare up at him, much to his amusement, "can I sleep in your room or not? I don't sleep well alone." 

"I just don't know if we'll get any sleep if I say yes."  "You are so fucking annoying, Kim Mingyu. No wonder Seungcheol hates your ass." 

"Cheol doesn't hate me, otherwise he wouldn't be here." He says pointedly, glancing at your lips before inching slightly closer, "and considering how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think you hate me all that much, either." 

His fingers drum on the side of your neck, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he tugs on the collar of your shirt.  

"Brush your teeth, turn the lights off. I'll make room for you." 

He slips away, ducking into his bedroom without another word as your hands cover your face like you're trying to hide the stupid smile spreading on your lips. You let out a breath, doing as you're told…and swiping on a bit of your lip gloss before grabbing your key and your phone off the desk and closing the door behind you. Mingyu's door is slightly ajar as you peek into it, your knuckles rapping against the painted wood as he's crouched in the corner of the room. 

"Close the door, please." He waves you in, returning to his task. You look around the room, illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the window — a desk like yours, but his bed is bigger, the room is bigger. He's got lots of knick knacks lining the walls, and a bunch of photos. You stare up at them, seeing him pictured with a newborn baby girl; the image marked 2001. 

"Little sister?" You say softly, and he hums. "Yep. She's safe, in Shanghai. She's there for school, I sent her money to stay over the summer so she wouldn't be trapped here during the outbreak. I haven't seen her since last spring. There's a landline downstairs, we call once a week when I'm not out looking for survivors, but my watch has a tracker that she can follow on her phone. It's fine." 

You feel your lips curve into a frown as you cross your arms on your chest, but you nod anyway.  

"Aha! Found it, I knew I had this somewhere." 

You turn on your heel to see him holding up a vinyl — specifically, Stevie Nicks' 1989 album, The Other Side of the Mirror. 

"Here, you can have it. You mentioned one of the songs on here in your top five." He holds it out to you, your eyes catching a silver reflection in the moonlight on the corner of the vinyl — an autograph.  Your eyes widen, and he taps your arm with it. "Take it." 

"I can't." 

"You can. I'm giving it to you, princess. Have it." He tucks it under your arm, and you jut your lip out in a pout as you hold it to your chest. Your nose burns as he laughs in disbelief, and you tuck your chin to your chest as a tear trickles down your face. "You're such a crybaby." 

"Shut up!" You stomp your foot like a child, "my mom had this one, she stood in line for it. She said she'd give it to me when I graduated." 

You sniffle, running your fingers along the cardboard as Mingyu moves around the room, opening the window and fluffing his comforter.  

"You're shit at comforting people, you know." You mutter as he glances at you from the headboard, fluffing a pillow in his hand as you wipe at your cheeks haphazardly. He snorts, pulling at the pillow before dropping it on the bed. 

"Literally, what do you want from me? Huh?" He shakes his head in amusement as you slide the record on top of his dresser, your forefinger tracing the autograph as he bumps your hip with his. He meets your eyes, his thumb brushing a stray tear off your cheek as you sniffle again. He slides his hand down your face, fingers curling around your neck as he pulls you close, leaning down. "You act like I can read your mind." 

"You should learn," You grumble as he pinches your cheek between his knuckles, "that's what good men do." 

"Okay, what good men do you know that can do that?"  "I knew my father."  "That's a good start." 

"And I know you can learn." You mutter, before moving away from him and climbing into his bed. You throw the comforter over your shoulder, feeling the bed dip behind you as Mingyu yanks it back. "Mingyu!" 

"You didn't even ask if I was ready to go to bed."  "Well, I'm ready. That means you should be ready." 

"You're also in my spot, sweetness." His lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans down, his hand squeezing your side gently before patting your back. "Scoot over." 

You move away begrudgingly, a scowl on your lips as you turn onto your back. He slides into bed next to you, opting to prop himself up on his elbow. You blink up at him, crossing your arms on your chest as he tugs at your sweater. 

"Why do you still have this on?"  "Wouldn't want to be indecent." 

He rolls his eyes, and you zip it up the rest of the way to make a point. "I'm just sleeping in here. No funny business." 

"I never said we'd be partaking in any 'funny business' to begin with, sweetness."  "Yeah, well, you're looking at me like I mean something to you and I don't like it." 

"You don't?" He leans slightly closer, and you bite back a smile as you press your hands to his chest. pushing him away lightly. 

"No."  "You're lying."  "A little." 

He takes your hands off his chest, pining them on either side of your head before interlacing your fingers. You tilt your head at him, "is this your way of keeping me all to yourself? Like Soonyoung said?" 

"You wouldn't like any of those guys, anyway. Not the way you like me," He rolls his eyes, hovering over you. He runs his eyes over your face as you suck your teeth, stopping at your lips. "You're wearing lip gloss." 

"Who said I like you in any kind of way? You're fucking annoying." You lie, rolling your eyes as you realize he's still looking at your lips. You nudge the side of his hip with your knee, "Mingyu." 

"Hm?"  "Let me go."  "Not until you admit you think I'm at least cute." 

"Oh boy, we'll be here all night." You sigh in feigned concern, before gazing back up at him. "How's your back? Still hurting?" 

He shakes his head, "a lot better, actually. I guess you were right." 

You huff, "you guess? I was right! Even with all my hard work—" 

"You enjoyed it, don't lie to yourself."  "That's not the point, dipshit. It's still work." 

You turn away, "I used to charge a hundred and eighty dollars for a 90-minute massage, you know. I gave you one for free." 

"Because you're a shitty business magnate." He smiles, and you tongue your cheek as his nose brushes yours slightly. Your breath hitches, "no, because I care about you. Sometimes." 

He stills on top of you, eyes slightly narrowed as he scans your face. You nibble on your lip nervously, your knees twitching on either side of his hips as you avert your eyes to the headboard, littered with carved swallows. He lets go of one of your hands, instead cradling your cheek gently, his thumb pulling at your lower lip as he makes you look at him. 

"Sometimes?" 

"Well, we just met." You lose all confidence in your voice as you meet his eyes, so fucking warm as he looks at you. Warm and kind and comforting, inviting…caring. Loving, maybe. 

Hopefully. 

"You don't care about that," He probes, eyes scanning your face, "you threw caution to the wind the moment you met me." 

"I did." You admit in a whisper, your hand carding through his hair as you swallow hard. "It wasn't like I had much of a choice, though." 

"You did. You could've not spoken to me at all, like you didn't speak to me for hours today until you yelled at me." He pouts, "eight hours, you know. Eight hours without talking to me." 

You mock his pout, "so long, huh? Must've been the worst for you, poor baby." 

"You're so fucking mean." He gripes, burying his face in your neck. You snicker to hold off a shiver that wants to snake down your spine as his lips brush your skin, "you like it." 

"Shut up." He mutters. Your hand cards through the hair at the nape of his neck before plucking at the collar of his shirt, moving his necklace over your fingertips and dipping your hand beneath it. The bruises are still there, albeit a bit lighter as you rub the pads of your fingers against them. His breathing tickles you, making you squirm when he squeezes your hand. "I missed hearing you talk today. I missed you." 

Your cheeks heat slightly as you shift beneath him, your fingers tracing random patterns into the skin of his back, "you met me two days ago." 

"I don't care." He groans, "I wouldn't care if I met you this morning. Time is relative, anyway, because it feels like I've known you an entire lifetime. I like having you around. I like it when you're mean and that you smell like honey and that you're so fucking smart and I like you." 

You sink your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from smiling, but your chest bounces slightly with embarrassed laughter. Mingyu pouts into your neck, your fingers slipping out from under his shirt to squeeze the back of his neck. 

"Stop laughing at me!" He whines, sitting up as you slide your hand down his chest. You pluck at his shirt, opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone knock on his door. You roll your eyes as he looks over his shoulder, and you sit up on your elbows, his hand slipping out of yours to hold himself up properly. 

"What's up?" He calls, and the man on the other side clears their throat. 

"You sleeping yet? The guys wanna play a couple rounds of pool." It's Seungcheol, and you pull at Mingyu's shirt as he opens his mouth. 

"Tell him you're busy." You whisper, your lips brushing his cheek as you talk. He glances at you, your eyes pointed as Seungcheol knocks again. "Tell him." 

"Uh, sorry, Cheol. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Mingyu lies through his teeth, making the man on the other side scoff, "doing what? You just got back, pull your pants up and come join us." 

"Do you really think I'm rubbing one out right now? I'm tired." He tries to defend himself, but you press your lips to his cheek. He stills, and you plant another one right on the curve of his jaw, the soft slope of his neck before your hand slides up and tilts his face towards you. 

"Tell him you're busy." You say again, your lips touching his as you speak. He leans into it, but you shake your head, pulling back as you gesture towards the door. He groans inwardly, letting you pull away fully and speaking loud enough for Seungcheol to hear him as you move to tug your zipper down.  

"I'm really tired, Cheol. Maybe another night. Promise."  "Lame. I bet if Y/N came down, you would too." 

Seungcheol leaves with two knocks to the door, and Mingyu clicks his tongue, words dying in his mouth as you tug on his shirt again — only to be interrupted by two more.  

"Mingyu! Stop being a bitch and come lose!" Soonyoung's voice rings through the door, making Mingyu turn to look over his shoulder again, "Hosh, I already said no. And you just want an easy win!" 

"Mingyu." You whine quietly, wrapping your legs around his waist to get his attention. He tries to focus on you, your lips pouted as you brush them to his again. "Want you to kiss me. Please, please." 

"So fucking cute." He mumbles, nuzzling his nose to yours, only for another bang on the door to make you jump. He groans, pressing his forehead to yours as Soonyoung hits the door yet again. 

"Come on, Gyu! We haven't seen you in an entire week! What could possibly be more important right now?!" Soonyoung complains, jiggling the thankfully locked doorknob and Mingyu's brow furrows in frustration as he opens his mouth to retort when you roll your eyes, sitting up abruptly and slotting your lips with his. You kiss him softly, your hands holding his face as he melts into you, a satisfied hum sounding from his throat. He pushes you back against the bed, his hand sliding to your hip as you slide yours down his chest and around his sides to rest on his back. Soonyoung knocks again, and you pull away with a huff. 

"Can you please go away? We're a little busy!" You call, your nails digging into Mingyu's back as Soonyoung's gasp is heard through the door. His footsteps are heard clambering down the stairs almost immediately, and you look back to see Mingyu a little dazed with glitter on his lips. 

"Are you really that bad at games? I thought you were kidding when you said you don't have a good poker face." You huff, making him blink a few times before he shakes his head. 

"No, I'm not bad at games. I do have a shit poker face, though, and they like embarrassing me about it." He mumbles, and you tongue your cheek when he leans down, brushing his lips to yours. "I don't believe that was your first kiss." 

"Good thing I didn't ask," You mumble, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth and slipping your hands under his shirt. He's warm to your cool fingertips, making him flinch slightly as you laugh against his lips. "Take your shirt off. Wanna see you." 

"You just wanna see me strip." He chides, and you raise a brow as you drag your nails down his back, earning a shaky moan against your jaw, his hand tightening around your hip. You brush your lips to his cheek, your hands bunching his shirt against his skin, "take it off. Please?" 

He sits up on his knees, towering over you as he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You let your eyes roam shamelessly as he leans back over, your hands sliding up the hot skin as you sit up slightly. You kiss him again, slower — feeling your belly fill with warmth as his hands pin your hips to the mattress, sliding up slightly and bunching your shirt under his hands as your underwear grows damp. You feel him stop moving, only sinking down lower and the back of your head hits the pillows as he breaks the kiss, trailing down your jaw. You tilt your face away, giving him more room when he stops, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

"We have to stop." He mumbles, his thumbs tracing soft circles in your sides as you turn to face him. His cheeks are flaming red, your own warm to the touch as you clear your throat. 

"Why? Did I do something wrong?" Your hands ghost over his shoulders, and he frantically shakes his head, his own hands coming to hold your face gently, "no, not at all! I'm just…" 

You look at him pointedly as he trails off, only raising a brow, "Mingyu, if you're pitching a tent—" 

"Why do you have to say it like that?" He whines, burying his face into your neck as you let out a chuckle of disbelief, your hands patting his shoulders, "how else am I supposed to say it? Boner?" 

"What is wrong with you? Not like that!" He groans into your neck, making you laugh even harder as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press a kiss to his shoulder, your fingernails raking lightly against his skin as you let your head fall back against the pillows. You hum, "you act like you've never done this before." 

"Not with you, I haven't." 

You still slightly, giving him a soft sigh as you run your fingers down the back of his neck, before running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from your neck. He pouts at you, clearly embarrassed as you press a kiss to his cheek. He sits up slightly, holding himself over you as you run your fingertips down his chest, "We can fool around, you know. I just…don't wanna go all the way yet." 

“Got it.”  “Maybe just the tip. I heard that’s a thing.” 

"We're not doing anything you don't wanna do, I promise." He nods, and you smile softly, puckering your lips up at him. He meets you halfway, planting a chaste kiss on your lips, "this is all at your pace, sweetness." 

You nod, a bit of insecurity washing over you as you look at the ceiling. "Was it bad? The kissing?" 

"Absolutely not," he shakes his head, gently grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. You make eye contact as he huffs, "again, I don't believe that was your first kiss. Unless you're a fucking witch, of course." 

"I just read a lot of books," You mutter, picking at your cuticles, "watch a lot of movies…not necessarily of the general rating variety." 

"Books and pornography didn't teach me how to kiss. Say it like it is." He scoffs, and you raise a brow, "not everyone can be as good at applying knowledge as I am. Plus, I told you yesterday…there is skill in the yearning. And I don't watch porn!" 

"Everyone's seen porn at least once."  "…Not me. I can't even spell pornography."  "You're such a liar, babe." 

"M'not your babe." You grumble, biting back your grin as he mocks you, before pressing his forehead to yours. You blink up at him, sticking your tongue out as he squishes your cheeks in his hand. You swat his hand away, "not yet, anyway. I guess. Ugh, I hate you." 

"No, you don't."  "You're fucking annoying."  "Again, annoying fed you, clothed you, bathed you…kissed you." 

"First of all, I kissed you." You argue, poking an accusatory finger in his chest. He only grins down at you, kissing the tip of your nose as you wrinkle it. 

"And you're so brave, sweetness. I can be a little softer, if you want." He states, his eyes searching yours as you smile, "I'm not gonna break, you know. You can be whatever you want. Be rough, even." 

He clicks his tongue, ears tinging pink once more as he looks away. "We don't even know if you like that." 

"You don't know if I like that. I know myself pretty well, I'd say." You shrug, "not having experience with guys doesn't mean I don't know what I like. I can explore on my own." 

"Have you?"  "Wouldn't you like to know, dude."  "I would, yeah. And don't call me that." 

He lowers himself slightly, holding his head up over your belly with his chin in his hand. You shift to look at him, sitting up on your elbows, "you know I don't care, right? I can help, if you want me to." 

"I care." He says softly, "I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for, I'm never going to expect or demand anything from you. I just…want you. We can talk about what you're ready for when you're ready for it, even if it takes years." 

The idea of years by Mingyu’s side settles a bit of fear in your bones. The idea of years by Mingyu’s side, having known him for three days – something in his gaze truly does make it feel like a lifetime. 

A lifetime of you and him. Of no engagement before you, of no other boys before him. Of learning all over again, with someone new...even if he’s the someone new for you. 

You trill your lips to hide the smile daring to inch itself onto your face, nodding as you look down at him, running your fingers through his hair. "I would've been ready right now, if they didn’t come banging on the door. Your friends are really good at killing the mood, you know?" 

"They normally don't come all the way up here, I don't know what's gotten into them." He pouts, eyes apologetic as you chuckle, "they miss you, I guess. It's normal to be oddly attached to some cute guy that saves you in the woods." 

"That feels backhanded, but I'll take the cute, I guess." He rolls his eyes, and you wrinkle your nose at him as you tug on the strands of his hair. He grunts, pulling your hand out of his hair and interlacing your fingers with his when he glances down at your body, suddenly letting go of your hand and hovering over you again as he speaks to you. "Why aren't you wearing pants? Did you go downstairs like that?" 

"Yeah? It's not like I need them; it's just us here." You shrug, snapping the waistband against your hip. He scoffs, "next time, put a pair of pants on." 

"Why, if you're just going to take them off me?"  "Y/N."  "So scary, ooh." 

You smile, running your hands up and down his chest. You palm at his arms, raking your nails down the skin and watching it prickle. Your eyes trail all over him, biting down on your lip as you wrap your fingers around the base of his throat, tugging lightly at his necklace as the cross pendant dangles above your face. 

"Wear pants when you go downstairs." He repeats, and you nod, thumbing at the pendant before making eye contact. You run your hands down his chest again, plucking at the waistband of his sweatpants, "can I see?" 

He tongues his cheek, "maybe. What's in it for me?” 

"Does there have to be something in it for you? What, do you want me to beg?" You smirk, pulling at the drawstring to untie it. He shakes his head, "if you beg, I'll give in too fast. I'm weak." 

"Good to know…" you click your tongue, toying with the drawstring as it comes undone. You tug on it, "just want you." 

"Do you?" His lips brush yours as he leans down, your hands moving to tug your sweater off. It slips down your arms, and Mingyu takes it, tossing it somewhere across the room as you wrap your legs around his waist again. Your teeth nip at his lower lip before you kiss him gently, carding your fingers through his hair, "want to see you." 

"You're looking at me right now, though?" He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your cheeks warm as you shake your head. His eyes are patient as he ghosts his lips over yours, smiling against them as you pout. 

"Wanna touch you."  "Yeah? Where?"  "Everywhere. Anywhere you want." 

"Take me to dinner first, why don't you?" He laughs as you let out a whine of annoyance, nudging his hip with your knee as he buries his face in your neck. He peppers a few kisses along the exposed skin, mumbling against it, “so pretty, baby.” 

“Mingyu.” You draw out his name as he smiles against your clavicle, his hands sliding up your sides and bunching your shirt around his wrists as he brushes his lips on yours again. You’re unamused as he pulls back before you can kiss him, but he shrugs. 

“What’s in it for me, sweetness?”  “Uh, hot girl in your bed. In her underwear. At your mercy.” 

He gives you a deadpan look, “‛at my mercy’ is a stretch, I think.” 

“What, you don’t think I can be nice to you?”  “No, actually.” 

“Ye of little faith,” you feign hurt, holding your hands to your chest as he shakes his head. He rolls his eyes, biting back a smile as your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweatpants. Your hands move to touch him; fingertips cool against his warm skin making him jerk away slightly. You wrap a finger with the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging on it gently, “what about these?” 

He opts to shrug, before his hand plucks at the hem of your shirt, “what about this?” 

“Oh, this old thing? Got it from a guy who rescued me in the woods, and he was real cute—” He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, muffling your laughter as you feel his hands push it higher. His thumbs graze the swell of your breasts as you shiver, his lips trailing down your jaw and nipping a soft mark under your ear. Your skin litters with goosebumps, “you can touch, if you want.” 

“I want to take it off.”  “Then take it off me, Mingyu.” 

He pulls the fabric of your shirt over your head carefully, letting your hair fall around your head before tossing it to the side and pressing a wet kiss to the column of your throat. His voice is a hushed whisper, “thank you.” 

Your words get stuck in your throat as he trails down your chest, kissing and nipping your skin; your fingers carding through his hair as his hands cup your breasts, carefully thumbing at your nipples. A shaky breath falls from your lips as he looks up at you through his lashes, tracing the left bud with the tip of his tongue before he pulls it gently between his teeth. The soft gasp that cuts through the air makes him chuckle, wrapping his lips around your nipple with a soft suck; your fingers tightening in his hair as your cover your mouth with your other hand. 

He pulls at your wrist, interlacing your fingers and pinning it next to your head, “need to hear you, baby.” 

“You don’t n-need to–“ 

“Well, I want to.” He’s eye level with you, pressing chaste kisses to your face, “I want to hear you beg and cry and say my name like it means something to you. I want to know I can make you feel good.” 

He hovers over you slightly, his gaze raking over your flushed face. You can’t keep eye contact, your voice lost on you as his fingers ghost over your skin, “if you want to stop, we can stop. Just say the word.” 

“I want you to touch me, Mingyu.” You murmur, his hand splaying on your hip as he kisses the apple of your cheek, “I am touching you, baby.” 

“No, I want you to touch me.” Your fingers cover his hand on your hip, pulling it slightly lower. He raises a brow, dipping his fingertips beneath the waistband of your underwear as you nod, burying your face in his neck. He pulls the fabric down, and you lift your hips to help him slide the damp underwear down your legs. He tosses them somewhere, your thighs falling open for him as you plant soft pecks to the expanse of his shoulder; before feeling his cool fingertips dip between your legs and slide between your folds. You suck in a breath – your nails digging into his bicep as he collects your arousal on his fingers, and you hear a soft chuckle fall from his lips. 

“Look at you, huh?” He whispers, tracing slow, tight circles into your clit. You whine into his neck, making him shiver as your teeth scrape the soft skin, “so needy.” 

You’re almost embarrassed at the way your hips move against his hand; the room filling with the slick sounds of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge and your soft whimpers of his name and please, please don’t stop. 

“Please, please?” He mocks you, his fingers slowing down to an agonizing pace as you feel the coil in your belly tighten. “Please, please don’t stop? Why?” 

“Wanna cum for you,” your voice is shaky and barely above a whisper as he presses his lips to your hairline. You mouth at the column of his throat, “wanna be yours.” 

“You are.” The rasp in his voice sends you over the edge, a choked mewl of his name falling from your throat as his hand tangles in your hair. He pulls you away from his neck as your thighs close around his hand, kissing you messily. It’s all teeth and tongue, a touch of desperation when you feel his painfully hard cock against your hip. 

“Gyu,” you breathe out against his lips, nipping at the lower one to get his attention. Your hand trails down his softly chiseled chest before you tug at the sweatpants. His eyes are heavy with query as you press a chaste kiss to his lips, “let me help.” 

“It’s okay,” he shakes his head, but his eyes betray him by fluttering shut as you palm him over the thin material. He tilts his hips away, pulling his hand from between your thighs and plucking at your lower lip with his fingers, “open, pretty.” 

His eyes are low as you take his fingers in your mouth, snaking your tongue between them before he pulls them out and grabs your jaw gently. The kiss is slower this time – his lips sucking on the tip of your tongue as your stomach fills with butterflies at the weight of him over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as he moves to settle himself between your thighs again. 

“Don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll be fine. Just relax and let me know if you want to stop.” He plants a kiss on your hip, before wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you to his face. You suck in a breath as he drags his tongue through your slick folds, your thighs trembling slightly as he carefully sucks your clit into his mouth. Your head falls back against the pillows as he busies himself between your thighs; pulling a whimpered moan from your chest as your hand finds his hair and tugs hard. You earn a grunt, your free hand finding your nipple to pinch between your fingers as he traces your entrance with his tongue. You grind your hips against his face, feeling the way he’s humping the mattress beneath him in a desperate attempt to get some friction. 

“Mingyu,” your voice is airy as you manage to pull him away from your dripping center, “wanna feel you.” 

His eyes widen, his hands around your thighs tightening as he glances up at you, “...you said you didn’t—” 

“Mingyu.” You interrupt, your eyes pointed as you tug on his hair gently. He lets you pull him up, making his way up the mattress. Your hand pulls at his sweatpants, “please. I’m ready, I promise.” 

“Y/N,” he sighs as you plant a kiss to his clavicle, “are you sure? We don’t have to do this, and I don’t have—” 

“I promise, I am sure.” You nod before stilling and meeting his eyes. He blinks at you, your hand still holding the waistband of his sweatpants, “you...want to, right? I don’t want to if you don’t.” 

“I want you to be sure, Y/N.”  “I don’t like when you call me that, actually.” 

“You called me guy for like six hours,” he snorts, making you pinch his hip and earning a squeal. He huffs, swatting your hand away from him before hooking his thumbs in his waistband, “you are positive you want this? With me? Right now?” 

“Yes. Take your fucking pants off, Kim Mingyu.” You roll your eyes, and he sticks his tongue out at you as he does what he’s told. He wraps his hand around his cock as he settles between your knees, your eyes widening slightly at the mess of precum on his lower stomach, “you’re big.” 

He raises a brow, “huh. Never thought of it that way.” 

“Yes, you have.” You deadpan, the little smirk on his lips proving your point as you sit up, “but...it’ll fit, right? You’ll make it fit?” 

“There is no way on this earth you haven’t seen porn if you’re talking like that.”  “Consider I used to read Wattpad?”  “And somehow, that’s worse.” 

You move your hand in a mock-talking motion, earning a roll of his eyes as he takes your hand in his, weaving your fingers together before pressing a kiss to your hairline. You let him lean you back against the mattress again, peppering the side of your face with his lips before feeling him speak against the shell of your ear, “just let me know, okay?” 

You nod silently, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your folds. He keeps you close, giving you a tentative nip at the side of your neck. 

"Gorgeous," his teeth scrape against your throat as you cant your hips up, your body begging for the weight of his cock against your clit. He pins you down against the mattress, mouthing at your neck with a slow roll of his hips against yours. A shudder runs down your spine as your nails dig into his back, whined sounds spilling from your lips as the room grows hotter around you. 

"You sure you want it?" He pants above you, your thighs shaking with overstimulation as you rut against his weeping cock. "Just the tip, yeah?" 

"All of it. Will you give it to me if I do?" Your voice is airy, your nails digging into his shoulders as he ducks his head down, connecting your lips in a searing kiss. His hips roll slowly, your skin prickling as he bites down on your lower lip, tugging at it before letting it spring back. 

"Beg me for it." 

"Mingyu," you whine, feeling his mouth hot and wet against your neck. His teeth graze against your collarbone, making you gasp as he lapped his tongue over the spot with a groan, "come on, pretty girl. Beg for it." 

“Please. Want you to fill me up.” Your voice is shaky as he sucks a mark into the base of your throat, your fingers moving to tug at his hair, “Gyu, please. Need to be yours.” 

His lips are on yours before you can say anything else, carefully dipping the tip of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat at the slight stretch, and he lets his hand snake down and trace tight circles in your clit, “I know, baby. Just relax for me, yeah?” 

“Kiss me,” you whisper, feeling his lips brush yours almost instantly. He’s soft, interlacing your fingers for the umpteenth time that night as he licks into your mouth. You let him, sucking gently on the tip of his tongue as he carefully buries himself to the hilt inside you; stilling as he feels your fingers tighten around his, “you wanna stop?” 

You shake your head, digging your nails into his skin as he moves slowly, kissing anywhere his lips can reach. Your fingers drag down his back as the burn ceases, your legs wrapping around his hips, “move, Mingyu.” 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, giving a harsher roll of his hips. “So pretty, made just for me, right?” 

“Yes,” you gasp out, burying your face in his neck as he brushes that spongy spot that makes your vision blurry. Your voice is lost on you, choked whimpers of right there filling the room as Mingyu’s hands roam your body with a searing touch before he holds your jaw gently, brushing his lips to yours as he brings you closer to the edge. 

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss on your lips as you clamp down around him. “I’m yours, yeah? Just for you, baby.” 

He doesn’t await your response, sitting up and pulling you onto his cock as your eyes prick with tears of pleasure. His ears are tinged pink as your moans of his name slip out, pleas of harder making him bite back a whine as his grip on your thighs becomes almost bruising. He pushes your knees to your chest, your eyes rolling back at the suddenly deeper angle. The familiar coil is building in your belly as his hand moves to wipe your tears, your own covering the back of it as you tilt your head to kiss his palm. 

“So good for me, yeah? Take my cock so well, angel.” His voice is soft, diabolically paired with the way his hips were meeting your ass with sharp thrusts. Your hand wraps around his wrist, pulling it down, and his fingers instinctively wrap around your throat with a gentle squeeze to the sides, “fuck, you’re so perfect.” 

His movements grow sloppy as the mix of sounds fills your ears – pitched whines from your lips, soft groans from his, the embarrassingly wet squelch between your legs that makes your cheeks hot as he teases you about it, tells you that you’re such a messy little slut. 

“Come on, baby. Need you to cum for me, yeah?” His fingers find your clit, tracing tight circles as your gummy walls clamping around him – the heat in your belly flushes throughout your body with a choked mewl of his name. His hips stutter against yours, only making your legs tighten around him as he bent to kiss your lips, spilling inside you with a soft whine that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. 

He stays sheathed inside you for a minute, his hands running up and down your sides as you limply try to kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hold him closely, nipping at his lower lip with a whispered thank you. 

“Tired?” His voice is low against your lips, thick fingers massaging your thighs as you nod silently, making him chuckle as he pulls you off the mattress, wrapping his arms around you and carrying you off to the bathroom as you lazily mouth at his neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”  “Will you kiss me again?”  “I’ll kiss you all you want, princess.” 

Mingyu’s eyes are glued to your face in the dead of night. 

The moonlight streams through the blinds of his bedroom, casting lines across your back and bleeding over your shoulders. Your lips are pouted, brows furrowed as your head rests on his chest. You’re covered in another one of his shirts, but this one more personal – a ‘lucky’ one he had from before the world went to shit, covered in paint stains from his projects during college. You’d pulled it from his drawer without a second thought, thumbing at the frayed hem of the sleeve before pulling it over your head and crawling into his embrace. 

Not a second thought before your eyes closed; your arm draped across his waist as you buried yourself into his side. 

And Mingyu wonders if the feeling of not being good enough for you will go away.  

Of knowing you were meant for more, for greatness. How your heart yearned for that internship in Germany, to go home to your parents and brag about it. He wonders if he’ll get the chance to fall in love with you and truly fall in love with you – before you realize he might not be enough. 

Mingyu is not all that experienced. In life, love, feelings. Sex, art, music. Mingyu knows one thing and one thing only, and that’s the cadence of his heart – the steady rhythm never wavering. Beating carefully for over two decades, softly guarded albeit accepting. 

A handful of friends. A mother, a father, and a little sister he misses dearly. An ex-fiancée. A woman whose hand he held, lips he kissed, body he roamed. A woman who gave her heart to him, and he’d realized too late that he’d bitten off more than he could chew. A woman who, with angry tears in her eyes, told him he wasn’t worth the time she gave him because any other man would’ve locked it down by then. 

That he simply wasn’t man enough for a woman like her, but that she wished him the best – though, she would be the very best he’d ever come across. 

She was right about one thing: Mingyu had never really felt man enough for a woman like Mina. He hadn’t felt the earth beneath his feet for years before that final fight – simply flying by the seat of his pants and giving his all to everything he could. He burnt out, and he burnt out fast – his relationship crumbling before anything else could, and he remembers the way the diamond ring he saved to buy for six months bounced right off his chest as she threw it at him. 

It sits somewhere in Shanghai with Minseo now. She was the first to know Mingyu had called the engagement off and comforted him by shipping over a container of almond biscuits from the local bakery. His parents had been supportive, even offering to pay his rent for a while if he needed a minute to figure himself out – but Mingyu did what he did best when he felt out of control: he started a new project. 

He drew up blueprints for a house – a beautiful two-story for his parents, with rooms to fit him and Minseo should they want to visit and stay. He gathered vendors, he put in orders for materials, he even contracted Wonwoo onto his plan before the world around him also crumbled. He left the city with his best friend and Seungcheol, their arms linked and beelining for the cabin. 

Mingyu has those blueprints still shoved in a shoebox in his closet. He brought them with him. He kept paint samples, a singular nail and a sample of mahogany wood he’d intended to use for a porch swing – one he’d pictured his parents sitting on and Minseo wiggling her way between them, but things didn’t turn out the way he’d intended. Minseo was across the sea, and his parents were gone.  

Mingyu had felt such an ache of despair in his chest that he’d been tempted to call Mina at the beginning of it all. She always knew the right things to say, especially in his moments of crisis – but he stopped himself from doing it. He deleted her number instead and made Wonwoo stay in the cabin with Seungcheol with the excuse of going out to look for survivors. This was his new project. 

He found all the boys in different states. Hansol and Seungkwan had been together, sharing a backpack and taking turns doing night watches. Jeonghan and Joshua were tree dwellers, and they’d hung around Minghao and Junhui often enough to lead Mingyu to the cavern they were all sleeping in. Seokmin had been the ray of light for Soonyoung, the both of them attempting to stay positive throughout their scavenging, and he remembers how Soonyoung burst into tears after eating a piece of fish roasted by Mingyu. He’d found Jihoon on the west end of the mountain – carrying nothing but a bottle of water and a notebook, a pen slotted over his ear. Chan had been the fastest to warm up to him, badly bruised from several tumbles out of trees and all sorts of scraped up.  

Then he found you – tired, hungry, and hurt. In jeans, and alone. Your eyes were distrusting, but there was something in them that made his heart lose that normal cadence he’d been so used to. The arch of your brows when he walked closer, the curve of your lips when you quipped back with a quickness he was not used to, and it made his head spin. The way your lashes kissed your cheeks as you slept... 

The way your hands felt. Soft despite a couple scrapes, but you moved them with a flair only an artist has. You spoke coolly, your expressions fitting every word spilling from your lips perfectly. You were smart and convincing, and riddled with guilt. You were weighed down with the guilt of not graduating, of not making it to Germany, of not seeing your parents one last time. Of not knowing what you’re doing – even when none of it is your fault. 

Mingyu thinks he’s fallen in love with you at first sight. 

“Why are you awake?” Your voice is raspy against his chest, his brows jumping as he glances down at you. Your eyes are barely open as you press a kiss to his skin, a terrible blush crawling up his cheeks and ears as he tries to respond. You shake your head slightly, patting his hip with your hand, “cat got your tongue?” 

“Sorry.”  “Answer the question, guy.”  “Just...thinking, princess.” 

You hum, carefully sitting up and looking down at him. Your hair is in disarray as you run a hand over your face, blinking a few times before tilting your head at him, “about?” 

“You.” 

He can see your face go through a range – confusion, contentment, skepticism. It settles on something he can’t quite put his finger on, but you shrug, “what about me?” 

“Anything and everything.”  “What, am I the girl of your dreams?” 

Your brow is raised, and Mingyu can’t seem to find the words as you cross your arms. Your eyes are expectant, but Mingyu averts his attention to the ceiling fan – following the lazy spin of it when he feels you move closer, throwing your leg over his hip and hovering over his face. 

“What’s your deal, Kim?” You ask, your hair falling into your face as he smiles. He reaches up, tucking it behind your ears as you carefully swat his hands away, “tell me!” 

“Go to bed, pretty. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He leans up, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips. You huff, your lips pouted as you get off him and lie down on your side, facing away from him. He rolls his eyes, turning over before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling your back to his chest. You don’t resist, but you don’t look over your shoulder as you make a show of closing your eyes and huffing again, before he presses his lips to the back of your neck. 

“Good night, sweetness.”  “Shut up.” 

Mingyu cannot believe he’s fallen in love with you.  In three days, no less. 

MINGYU DOESN'T KNOW IF LIGHT EXISTED BEFORE HE MET YOU. 

Well, of course it did.  

Maybe not as bright, not as welcoming, not as warm or moody. Maybe not in the way the sun illuminated your skin at dawn, seeping through the blinds and casting patterns on the curves of your nude frame. Maybe not in the way your eyes twinkled every time you looked at him, a shy smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you physically blocked him out of your view with your hand to finish whatever you were doing. Maybe not in the way your laugh rang out through the cabin and made his skin prickle, and maybe not in the way that he can't sleep when you're still awake because he swears, he can see your face through his closed eyes. 

He didn’t really know what the feeling was, but something stirred in his stomach every time he saw a sliver of skin when you stretched. Every time he saw you settle in your chair to eat dinner, every time you eagerly climbed four flights of stairs just to flop on his bed and make out until you were both too turned on to ignore it. 

You turned into a different person then. Sure, you were confident, cocky even on a regular basis — but there was something that changed. You became an enchantress of sorts, and he couldn't bring himself to say no to you even if it meant he ruined his sweatpants and his sheets over and over again getting you off, even overstimulating you to the point of tears. He won't say no, because he loves the way his face grows hot when you say his name all sorts of low and raspy and how you didn't bother closing the door all the way anymore, your sounds bouncing off the walls shamelessly.  He kind of liked that someone got sent up to slam his bedroom door shut every night. 

It’s been three years since he met you in the woods.  

Things had progressed slowly in the beginning, but he knew how you felt by the way you settled in his arms at the end of the night. You would kiss him good night, you would invite him in the shower with you, you would crawl into his lap if he was sitting somewhere – even if he was in front of the guys. No one said anything as you settled into his chest, his arms immediately pulling you closer as he continued his conversations. 

And he felt something settle in his belly when he saw you getting along well with the guys. You became a master at beating Jeonghan at cards, and you would spend hours just sitting with Minghao in one of the basement corners talking about anything and everything. Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan would rope you into their hooting and hollering, and you would find an escape in Joshua or Wonwoo once your ears hurt from all the yelling. You, Hansol and Chan grew accustomed to falling asleep on the couch while watching old movies, piled on top of each other, and Seungcheol would be the one to throw a blanket over you. You added a touch of something to the group, but he found himself quietly staring at you from across the room when you would settle in the breakfast nook.  

That was when you looked the calmest, other than right before bed. There was always a cup of untouched coffee sitting on the table, and a handful of blue pencils you’d found. Your knees would be pulled to your chest and holding a sketchpad he’d found in the back of his closet, specifically after you said you were bored while hanging off the edge of his bed two weeks into your time at the cabin – and you’d been glued to it. You’d flip it closed if he came too close, and you would leave it in your room and hide your key if you were doing something else. 

You’d left for Germany six months ago, with a snug ring on your hand that meant you had someone back home waiting for you. 

The country had fallen back in order, almost too soon after you’d situated yourselves in the cabin. Community clean-ups were organized as the same labs downtown tried to find any way to fix the damage caused. They were out billions of dollars, and eventually, things fell back into place. Hospitals were rebuilt, airports were reconstructed, and travel was reinstated. Diplomas and degrees were awarded to seniors who had been on track to graduate before the outbreak, and Mingyu watched you try on your cap and gown with a satisfied little smile. 

And you got an email a few months later – congratulating you on your graduation and telling you that your internship in Berlin was awaiting your arrival.  

Mingyu remembers it like it was yesterday – you’d almost thrown up out of excitement before something settled in the back of your eyes. Uncertainty, worry. 

Guilt. 

“It’s only six months,” Mingyu whispered as he cradled you in his arms, pressing a kiss on your temple as you cried quietly. “It’ll fly by and it’ll be like you never left.” 

You were on a plane the very next week. You held determination in your eyes then, even when glossed with a layer of hot tears that you refused to let spill. Until you got to Berlin and called him every night for a week straight – trying not to sob as he gave you updates on himself and the guys, and showed you designs. He’d been hired to do a few projects around the city, finally putting a little extra cash into his pocket. 

“You’re almost home, just a few more days.” Mingyu had reassured you just yesterday, as he looked down at the designs on his workbench. Your designs – the ones you’d hidden before you rolled them up the week you left and handed them over at the airport. 

“A project for us.” You’d said, and he’d peeled them open (per your instruction) once you were in the air and on your way to Berlin.  It’d been a perfect mix of your design and his old one – two floors, enough rooms to fit his sister and now, many brothers. A kitchen big enough for an island and to hold an annoying amount of boisterous people shouting about how hungry they are, and still – a cozy breakfast nook, one a lot like the cabin had: where you used sidle up to Mingyu and steal off his plate, kiss his bare shoulder, ask for a kiss. And his porch swing – big enough to fit you, him...and hopefully, a growing family. 

“How’s the house comin’ along?” Seungcheol asks, holding his daughter above his head as Mingyu crosses his arms on his chest. “Looks about done to me.” 

“It is done,” Mingyu nods, “just need to furnish. Paint, too...but Y/N is home soon, and I don’t think I’ll have enough time to move everything alone. She might wanna help, anyway, so I guess it’s fine.” 

He feels his throat tight as he speaks, nibbling on his lip as he glances over at Seungcheol, who has a warm smile on his face, “thanks for helping me out. I thought I was going to lose my mind without her.” 

“You put on a brave face for the woman you love, it’s only natural you freak out once she’s actually gone. Plus...I think you got most of the jitters out when you put that ring on her finger. Nice job.” He shrugs, clicking his tongue as he looks up at the house again and turns his daughter to face it, “can you believe Uncle Mingyu’s gonna make you a big house like this one? You get a room all to yourself, I never had one of those.” 

Mingyu snorts, “I never said I’d make you one.” 

“And jealousy is a disease.” Mingyu stiffens, his fingers on his biceps tightening as he hears a car door slam behind them. Seungcheol smiles inwardly, hiding his face in his daughter’s hair as she lets out a string of incoherent babbling, something that sounds a lot like Y/N amongst it. 

“And to think, I was going to ask you to design it.” Seungcheol teases as Mingyu forces himself to peek over his shoulder – seeing Chan smiling brightly as he unpacks the trunk of Seungcheol’s SUV. Tears blur his vision as Seungcheol’s hand moves to squeeze his shoulder, the rough denim of your jacket rubbing against his arms as you wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Where are your manners, Kim Mingyu? No hello for your fiancée?” He covers his face as he sniffles, and Seungcheol’s rickety laugh is heard as you sway Mingyu from side to side with all your strength. You squeeze him, “aren’t you happy to see me? I wanted to surprise you!” 

He wipes his face haphazardly, taking a deep breath before turning around and almost crushing you in his embrace. Your arms wrap gently around his neck as he buries his face in your hair, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo that he’d missed so much.  

“I’m gonna put your bags inside,” Chan announces, “since Mingyu’s gonna cry—” 

“Shut up, pipsqueak. When you find a girl worth waiting for, you’ll cry, too.” Seungcheol snaps, balancing his daughter on his hip before grabbing your duffel out of the front seat. “Take your time, lovers.” 

Chan is heard in the distance asking why Seungcheol can tease you but not him, paired with a heavy hit of something and an oof as you tap Mingyu’s shoulders, “I can’t breathe.” 

“Just a little bit more,” he murmurs, albeit loosening his grip as you suck in a breath, “I thought I was dying.” 

“Pft, you can’t die without me, Gyu. Also, I bought a Switch in Germany. We’re playing Super Mario Odyssey and reliving the days we met, because I had a dream you didn’t find me and I cried.” You ramble, “we should get together with the guys, and we should order pizza, I’m starving. I missed you, did you miss me? Oh, and I—” 

Mingyu stops you with a kiss, cupping your face gently and pulling away before it can turn greedy. Your eyes are wide, “are you okay?” 

“Do you still hate burl?”  “Absolutely.” 

“Okay, good. Had to make sure Berlin didn’t change your morals,” he mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them before holding you close, “I missed you.” 

Your smile is shy as you let him card his fingers through your hair, looking up at him through your lashes, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.” He peppers kisses to the top of your head, and he’s sure you can feel him smiling as he presses his lips to your cheeks and forehead, “let me show you the house.” 

You nod excitedly, grabbing his hand and leading the two of you up the porch steps. He shamelessly looks at the fit of your jeans on your hips, “do you remember when I posed the question of whether or not the virus was zoonotic?” 

“Yes, and yes, my ass is hypnotic. That is precisely why I wore these jeans. God, Mingyu. Get with the program, learn my moves!” You scoff, and he ignores the bickering he hears in the newly built kitchen as he pulls you into one of the downstairs bedrooms, his hands tight on your waist. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He presses you against the door, his lips traveling the side of your face before meeting your lips in chaste, flirty kisses before resting his forehead against you. “I missed you, so much.” 

“Enough to catch me a fish, guy?” You laugh, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans, making him roll his eyes. 

“Enough to catch you a million, princess.” 

HAOLOGRAM © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[nightshao]

I WAS SO SHOCKED WHEN I SAW THE WC, pleaseee the flow and writing is so good i didn’t even noticed!! definitely one of my top favourites immediately, i love their dynamic and just THEM in general, if they fall in love in three days, i fall in love with them within hours 🙂‍↕️