Aminaཐིཋྀ

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[nuoyipeach]

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About me: ✧ Amina ✧ 00'liner ✧ Asian ✧

Ults: ♡ NCT ♡ LUCAS ♡ XRG ♡ Red Velvet ♡ BigBang⁴ ♡

Other artists I stan: ✯ AESPA ✯ RIIZE⁷ ✯ 2NE1 ✯ EXO ✯ SuperM ✯ GOT ✯ Ji Hansol ✯ MYTRO ✯ BlackPink ✯ StrayKids ✯ EVERGLOW ✯ ATEEZ ✯ DAWN ✯ Got7 ✯ KARD ✯ iKON ✯ SHINee ✯ SNSD ✯ Super Junior ✯ TVXQ ✯

Materlist

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twitter/instagram/tumblr: nuoyipeach wattpad: amy_ctzen

[nuoyipeach]

smn said how Taeyong's enlistment felt shorter than Jaehyun's, and istg like i literally lived different 3 lives during JH's like how😭

[nuoyipeach]

I'm begging for some seulyong fic 😭😭😭

honestly surprised theres still an audience😭💚

[nuoyipeach]

Golden Hour

Mark Lee X Ko Eun

warnings: mildly suggestive(?) bold mark & soft eun (if you know you know heh)

tags: @onyourmarkletsgoeun

inspired by Mark - Golden Hour obviously lol

Mark sat in the living room hungry, waiting for his girlfriend to come out to make breakfast, since his existence inside a kitchen was simply an equation for disaster. His ears perked up, a smile taking over as he saw his girlfriend walking out of the bedroom, heading straight for the kitchen.

He walked behind her, hugging her from behind just as she opened the fridge. "Good morning babe." he cooed, kissing behind her ear. Eun simply chuckled, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

"Good morning Mark." she whispered tiredly into his ear, kissing his cheek back. "As much as I'd love this, I'm hungry, and I know you are too, so you might wanna keep you hands to yourself first." she pushed off his arms, laughing at his pout before pushing him out of the kitchen space.

Mark stood on the other side of the counter and watched as she took out some bread and eggs. She spread butter on both sides of the bread before putting them into the mini toaster oven, and proceeded to the stove to make the eggs.

"How do you want your eggs?" she asked while grabbing a pan.

Mark smiled watching her, something about her cooking for him always made him giddy. "Usual please, fried."

"Yolk?"

"Kinda runny."

Eun hummed in response and started to cook. She focused on her task, which he noticed on her face and stared at her longer. She suddenly felt her boyfriend hug her from behind again, smiling as she felt him rest his chin on her shoulder, watching her cook. She pecked his cheek before looking back at the eggs, and he could only fall for her more each day as he thought about how she had reassured him back then.

"They're right..." he sighed, leaning back on the bench staring up at the night sky. "Why should you be with me, someone who can't cook even the easiest thing? It's a basic life skill..."

She cupped his face to look at her, smiling at him. "Maybe the reason I'm an amazing cook while you suck is why God made us cross paths." she kissed him softly, giggling. "I love you, and I don't care that you can't cook. Besides, there are other things you're good at, so why does this one thing matter?"

He had heard some people tell her she shouldn't be dating an incompetent man, and he felt bummed out by it. It's not that he doesn't cook, he's tried many times, but for some reason he wasn't gifted with the talent of even frying an egg without something going wrong. The most he's done without causing a mess was making instant ramen.

Mark was brought out of his daze hearing the click of the stove turning off, followed by the toaster oven ringing as it finished its job. He was always amused at how precise Eun's timings were, and let her go to help take out the bread while she plated the eggs.

"Wear gloves." she said automatically, making him chuckle nervously at the memories of when he had accidents with each cooking appliance, not realising the kitchen mittens had a purpose for everything besides the stove.

Eun placed the plates down at the table, while Mark plated the bread in each of theirs, before taking out the juice for them as well. Not knowing how to cook didn't mean he couldn't help around the kitchen.

As she sat, she noticed Mark gazing at her again and chuckled. "What's with you today?" she asked nonchalantly. Just as she was about to start eating though, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him, making her sit on his lap. Eun looked at him in shock, knowing her boyfriend was rarely ever this bold.

He smiled at her. "Let me feed you." he said and pulled her plate towards him as well, taking some eggs and bringing it up to her mouth. Though sceptical, Eun just ate from him considering she was too hungry now to care. He then picked up her toast and let her take a bite.

This went on until they were finished with their food, and juice which Mark also helped her drink. As he finished his own drink, she stared at his face, gulping as she noticed his Adam's apple move while he drank. That didn't go unnoticed by Mark, who smirked again as he put the glass down and stared back at her, when Eun mindlessly started tracing her finger from his forehead down his nose, go his lips. She noticed the bit of juice on the corner of his lips, and wipes it off with a soft smile.

Mark watched her, wondering just how beautiful she was, how did he become the lucky man with her in his arms. He moved his head closer, leaning into her chest while his arms tightened a hug around her. Eun sat silently, smiling at his possessiveness, fingers massaging his scalp.

He groaned into her neck. "Good girl." he peeked up at her with a lazy smile. "Do you know, how I love you more every day?"

Eun chuckled. "What do you mean?" she cupped his face with her free hand, squeezing his cheek playfully.

"I don’t know how to make eggs, but that I do not stress, cause I've never been hungry, since I got you in my life." he hid his face back in her neck. "Before I'd have to wait for food delivery, and you know how that could take a while sometimes."

Suddenly he stood up, carrying his girlfriend in his arms as she shrieked at the sudden movement. "Lee Minhyung what are you doing?" she scolded as he simply speedwalked to their bedroom, replying with a smirk.

"Helping you get ready for work." he stepped into their bathroom, sitting her on the counter and leaning in with his hands resting on either side of her. "Let's shower together."

"I don't have time for that."

Mark pouted. "Please? I won't do anything to delay it." he put a hand on his chest, over his heart. "Promise."

Eun rolled her eyes, looking back at him with a mocking smile. "Fine." She stretched her hands up, Mark smirking as he pulled her (his) night shirt off, undressing her then himself. She then stretched her arms out, making him smile cheekily before carrying her into the shower.

>>>

Mark returned home first, sighing as he slumped into bed on his stomach. It was almost sunset, and he stared at the sunlight peeking through the curtains of the bedroom window, orange and yellow streaks left around the floor and furniture around the room. His mind drifted to Eun, knowing on more free days this would have been the time she'd pull him to bed and cuddle for a nap.

The golden hour was her favourite, whether it was morning or evening.

He watched as the streaks slowly disappeared, and just as the sun was out, he heard the door lock beeped. He flipped onto his back, staring at the door upside down as the figure of his girlfriend slowly came in, smiling lazily at her. He heard her chuckle, kneeling right in front of him, and pecked his lips upside down like a spiderman kiss.

"Hi." Mark whispered, still lazy.

Eun climbed the bed and laid on top of him, head on his chest. "I'm tired." She spoke very softly, and he felt as if her body would just melt into his own. He hugged her, one hand brushing through her hair, and knew she fell asleep as her breathing became stable.

Mark smiled, slowly turning around to lay her on the bed, putting a pillow under her head and kissing her forehead. "I'll wake you to eat, rest up." He saw her give a small smile before drifting back to sleep, figuring he'd order in food for them.

Mark on the other hand had a different idea in mind. He stood in the kitchen, focused on his phone as he read the instructions for the dishes. "OK, Lee Minhyung." he spoke to himself softly. "Gotta make the appetizer and the main dish. You got this. You are Gordon Ramsay." he continued the self meditation.

It would be another two hours before dinner, but he knew he needed the time. He wanted it to be perfect, and that meant he'd have to work slower to not mess anything up. He placed his phone against the elevated spice rack, following the recipe video step by step. He added a few twists here and there to the recipe, but only to change the taste to something the couple would enjoy more (getting his friend's assurance beforehand so nothing would go wrong).

To his surprise everything was going well, granted a bit slow, but Mark was just happy he managed it through with no mishaps. As he finished the two dishes, he waited for the rice to be done when he felt arms snaking around his torso, a body pressed against his back.

He chuckled grabbing the arms around him and turned his head to look behind. "Hi baby." he said softly, Eun pressing her chin on his back as she looked back at him with a sleepy smile.

"I smell food... and it's not burnt." She smiled as Mark started to laugh, before turning to hug her.

"Go sit, I'll bring it over. It's done cooking."

She hummed in response, giving him a quick peck on the lips before doing as he said, and was in awe the whole time he set the food and plated it for her as everything clearly exceeded her expectations. Both dishes were delicious, the rice was perfect, and she sat with her lover taking care of her every second. How could life get any better?

"It's all so good Mark, I'm so proud of you."

She chuckled seeing his ears turn slightly red, always amused by how shy he was despite them being together for so long. Deciding to have a little fun, she shifted her chair closer to his and grabbed his thigh.

"You know you really are the best thing in my life." she watched as his expression changed. "No matter what anyone says, you're perfect for me."

He smiled widely, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips kissing her fingers. "And you for me." he tugged her over his lap, arms locked around her waist holding her tight to himself, needing no further reassurance of their love.

>>>

so yea, had this drafts for a long while hahah, and upon recent events decided what the hell might as well just get it out with... am not holding up well ngl, kinda feels like everything i've known is just crashing down these days, but anyways hope you like it♥

[nuoyipeach]

For You (yujoy au)

warning! slight violence, mentions of blood, near deaths word count: 3.3k (can't remember the last time I wrote something this long)

"Daddy!" Sooyoung turned to see her daughter run away from her, ending up in her father's arms. "I'm so happy you're here!"

"Of course princess, wouldn't miss it for the world." Yuta kissed her cheek before they nuzzled noses, a small cute action that was common among the family when showing affection.

Sooyoung sighed and followed behind, Yuta smiling instantly when seeing her. "And how's my beautiful wife?" he cooed, but the look on her face told him otherwise.

"Mina, why don't you go get ready for the game with your friends. Do some stretches OK baby."

The little girl smiled nodding, giving both her parents kisses before running off to her team's wait zone. Once she was out of sight, Sooyoung turned back to Yuta with a frown, and he knew exactly why.

"Whatever you have to say, let's wait until after the game." he said about to take her hand, but shocked when she moved away. "Come on love, you know I didn't mean to miss out the pregame..."

"That's not the point." Sooyoung said strictly. "You know very well than to go on missions during her games, you promised you'd stay for her then. I know you can't give her a lot of time Yuta, but isn't that why you promised to not miss a single football event?"

Yuta sighed and moved closer, pulling his wife's body in for a much needed hug. He was gone for almost a week, and delayed his return, all he wanted was to lay in bed holding his wife and daughter to himself. But he knew the promises he made, as a mafia father he figured this was the least he could do. Besides, he couldn't have been any happier seeing his little angel pick up the exact speciality he had as a child until teen years, and now he hoped she'd continue with it long term unlike him.

Sighing as his hands grasped her, Yuta kissed his wife's hair before pulling away. "I'm sorry Sooyoung, you know how much I regret it. I wish I didn't have to but there was an emergency and I couldn't leave or else we'd lose some good people."

Sooyoung furrowed her eyebrows listening to his reasoning. She had to admit she married an amazing man, the most caring she's ever met.

She just wished he'd care for her and their daughter like he did for his crew.

"Well nothing can be done about that now. Let's go, today's the semi finals. And I hope you have nothing for day after tomorrow, the finals are on remember. Mina would give up if you don't come."

"I know..." he sighed tiredly, but a smile immediately replaced it when seeing the game start off.

The couple sat with smiles amongst the other parents, Yuta cheering every now and then whenever his daughter scored a goal. Just as he wished, his daughter was becoming a football prodigy like himself back in school.

As expected, her team won. Yuta ran down to the field and carried her into the air and spun her around, then started kissing her face all over. "Daddy's so proud of you Mina, you're the best daughter anyone could ever ask for."

He never let her down from his arms and carried her back to the car after saying goodbye to her friends and teachers. Her medal hung around her neck as she now sat with her mother while Yuta drove them home, Sooyoung taking many pictures to send to their families.

Once they reached, both father and daughter went to take showers while Sooyoung prepared dinner. Yuta helped Mina first before sending her out and showered himself. He finally felt so relaxed, he almost dived into the bed and disregarded dinner. But Mina had been awaiting for him on the bed, so he threw out that idea and followed her to dinner where her mother prepared her favourites.

"Wah! Thank you mummy!" she kissed her mother cheek as Sooyoung placed the last dish on the table.

"If you win the finals, I'll bake your favourite cookies too. And we'll go to the theme park just as we promised."

Mina squealed in excitement, repeating how much she loved both her parents over and over. Yuta chuckled as he took seat next to her and kissed her head.

"Even if you don't win, I'll still be proud as long as you give your best. And I know you will."

"Would we still go to the theme park?" the young girl asked, making her priorities obvious to her parents who simply laughed.

"Well, depends on how well you play."

"I'll be the best player in the whole world!"

"Why isn't daddy here yet?" Mina was on the verge of tears, while Sooyoung was seconds away from making an angry phone call. They had been waiting for Yuta for thirty minutes at the field but there was so sign of him, even his calls getting cut off.

Sooyoung feared this, not only because she was mad that he couldn't come to Mina's games thus making the child upset, but also because she didn't know how to respond to their daughter. Yuta never wanted her to find out what her father did, and Sooyoung always made sure she never figured it out.

But sometimes she ran out of excuses and could tell Mina was sick of the subject changes when she couldn't answer. Sadly, that was the only thing she could do now again.

"Mina, go get ready. I'm sure he'll come soon. You know he'd never miss your games. And don't let this distract you, you're the best player remember."

Sniffling, Mina nodded and hugged her mother before running off to her teacher. Sooyoung waited for her to be out of sight before making another call to her husband, again going unanswered.

"Damn it Nakamoto!" she cussed. "You better hope you're dead or I'll kill you myself."

What Sooyoung failed to realise was exactly the thing she was hiding from Mina.

His job.

More specifically, how we was now stuck in a building trying to escape the several oppositions wanting to kill him and his member.

"I should never have agreed to this." Yuta grunted again. "I'm late for her game, I promised. Do you realise how upset they're gonna be with me... Are you even listening Doyoung?"

"Shush!" his member held his mouth shut. "You'll get there in time if you could just help me find a way to escape for God's sake and stop talking!"

Yuta grumbled and continued to help Doyoung find a way out from the map of the building he held. The mission was supposed to be simple, which was why he took the last minute decision of taking over Kun's place as the latter called sick. But instead they fell into a trap and now were locked up. They hid in a storage room, using the minimum light of their torches to find any secret way to escape.

After some thought Doyoung figured out a way and explained to Yuta. The two got ready and made a run for it, sneaking past as many men as possible. They finally reached a window and jumped out, dodging any injuries thanks to their vests.

Just as they reached their car parked away in a hidden spot, a loud gunshot rang through their ears. Doyoung froze in fear, taking a few seconds before checking himself. "What happened?" he turned to Yuta, who was quickly getting into the passenger seat.

"Doesn't matter. Let's go, drop me off at the school. Hurry!"

Knowing his temper, Doyoung knew it would be best to just drive off quick and drop him off at the football game. He drove, but couldn't ignore an odd feeling in himself. He turned to Yuta who simply fidgeted in his seat, which he figured was from the adrenaline of the mission and the need to get to the game.

It wasn't until they reached the school, once Yuta left the car, that Doyoung finally turned to the seat and looked, and his eyes widened as fear took over.

"And Red House takes the trophy for elementary division football thanks to their player's awesome strikes, as always the amazing Nakamoto Mina!"

Yuta smiled as he just reached the edge of the field, watching the players in red jerseys run to his daughter and hugging her, the coach carrying her up on his shoulders to celebrate. He walked closer, noticing his wife run down the steps of the bleachers towards the crowd of kids.

"Sooyoung..." he grunted. His voice was almost lost, but he pushed himself closer to the crowd. "Mina. Daddy's here." he managed to say, but not loud enough over the cheers.

But one voice managed to get all their attention.

"YUTA HYUNG!"

Sooyoung turned her eyes widened at the sight of her husband limping towards them. Their eyes met and he smiled weakly.

"HE'S HURT!"

She looked beyond him and saw Doyoung running towards them. Her eyes went back to Yuta and noticed his left hand inside his jacket, over his right waist. She didn't have time to process as he finally fell on his knees, Mina's voice bringing her to reality.

"Mummy! Let's go! He's hurt!"

Doyoung quickly held him from behind before his head could hit the ground, Mina reaching first before her mother. "Daddy! Daddy wake up please!" the young girl cried shaking his chest. Sooyoung came behind her, still in shock and unable to say anything.

"We have to take him to base, Taeil hyung can heal him." Doyoung said, pulling Yuta's body over his back. "I'll take him, you follow me behind Sooyoung."

Sooyoung nodded and they ran in the directions of their own cars and we're quick to get on the road, Sooyoung following behind Doyoung like he had instructed. The car ride was silent and full of tension, Mina not even daring to ask what happened or why.

What the child did notice was how they were suddenly driving out of the town, through a secluded area, and finally reached big gates through which she could see a much bigger building. "Mummy..." she finally spoke softly. "Why are we here? Daddy should go to the doctor..."

"Daddy's friends are doctors here. It's better for him than to wait." Sooyoung answered without missing a beat, as if she had prepared for this question before hand.

Which she of course had in case they ever needed to come here.

Doyoung stopped the car at the steps in front of the main doors, and Mina watched as another man who had been standing there ran to the car and carried Yuta out while Doyoung drove away. Sooyoung parked next and came out with Mina, running behind the man when another came to her.

"Here Shotaro, park it for me. Thanks." Sooyoung said and received a nod before they ran either directions. She followed behind the man carrying Yuta, who she guessed was Taeil from behind, until they reached a white room.

"I'll do everything I can from here. You just wait outside." Taeil instructed her as he shut the door. Sooyoung peeked through the small window on the door, finally processing that her husband was really fighting for his life now. She sank to the floor as tears started streaming down her cheeks, a small hand wiping them off then hugging her.

"Don't cry mummy. Daddy will be fine, he's strong remember."

Sooyoung turned to her daughter and smiled, knowing it was best to stay optimistic for her at least. She moved to sit next to the door leaning against the wall and brought Mina to sit on her lap and wait.

"Mina!" the two turned to see Winwin, the only person Mina actually knew and was close to among the rest of Yuta's gang. "Wanna go eat with me? I heard you won, so I'll treat you, then we can rest while your dad heals, OK."

Sooyoung knew he understood the situation, and if there's one thing Winwin was good at it was distracting Mina during times like this. Mina jumped giggling and ran to his arms, not bothered to ask her mother, though Sooyoung didn't care since she knew she was safe. She nodded and mouthed thank you to Winwin who smiled back sadly and carried the child away with him.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, it felt like hours as she dozed off against the wall. Though it was really just one after which the door opened again, and she got up at the noise and immediately turned to Taeil.

"He's healed, but it's hard to tell when he'll wake up. He held the pain for way too long, and even forced himself to walk... He's really too much."

Sooyoung let out a deep sigh, thanking Taeil as she walked into the room and watched her husband's lifeless body lay still with a mask over his face. Flashbacks hit her as she remembered this exact image she faced, the day she found out about his work when they were still dating. He had apparently been calling her name in his unconscious state, and that was what really kept her to stay with him.

She knew he loved her, and she couldn't break it off when she did so back, even if it meant sacrificing a normal life.

She sat next to his body on the bed and held his hand. "I hope you know you're in for a big one once you wake up." she spoke. With no response, her heart hurt more and she couldn't help anymore as a year left her eye. She brought his hand up and kissed it, then held his palm against her cheek.

"Fine, I won't scold you.... Just wake up, please... We have to celebrate Mina's win..."

Mina finished up her food as Winwin helped her with the last few spoons of soup. "Let's eat ice cream after this, my treat since you won the match." he cheered clearing up her plates with the last spoon.

Mina ate, then looked at him sullenly. "Is daddy going to be OK?"

Winwin paused as he pushed her plate away, then looked at her with hopeful eyes. "He'll be fine. The uncle taking care of him is a really good doctor, he's helped all of us. If your daddy loves you a lot, he'll force himself better if he has to. You know how much he loves you, and how stubborn he can be." he joked, relieved when the young girl smiled.

"Daddy is very stubborn. I always have to drag him for dinner, he's so lazy he doesn't like to get out of bed after work."

Winwin laughed along as she kept telling stories while he pulled out ice cream from their fridge, and continued to listen while eating their ice cream. Once they cleared up their bowls he planned to take her to his room, but the young girl was just as stubborn as her father.

"I wanna go to daddy, please!" she whined sitting in the middle of the hallway. Winwin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, but gave in thinking Taeil was probably done by now. "You sure are as stubborn as your daddy." he grunted quietly as he picked her up and walked back to the medical wing of the building.

Once they reached he quietly opened the door, scared to disturb, though Sooyoung was sitting up next to her husband's body and smiled seeing Mina.

"Go ahead, I'll see you later." Winwin put her down and left. The young girl walked to her mother and sat on her lap, touching her father's lifeless hand.

"Will he be OK mummy?"

Sooyoung sighed holding Mina tighter. "Let's pray baby. He'll be with us again soon."

"What happened to him?"

This was the question she feared. She never wanted to disclose Yuta's life to their child, and Yuta had made it very clear neither did he. It wasn't like he did anything bad, if anything he was fighting the bad. But it was dangerous, and having the woman he loves know was bad enough for him. That he couldn't stop because he loved her too much to let her go, and he didn't want his child to have the same stress at such a young age.

Mina loved her father, despite his odd timed absences, but those only seemed to make her grow more attached to him.

"Someone hurt him, and he didn't say it because he wanted to come to the game badly."

"Who?"

"A bad man."

"Is it my fault?"

"Oh no baby!" Sooyoung cupped her chubby cheeks, "It's just him being stubborn, it's not at all your fault. He loves you so much, he just wanted to be there."

"But why wasn't he?" Sooyoung was caught in a dead end. "Where does daddy always go? Everyone else's daddy comes to the games, why does mine have so much work?"

"Well... He works hard so we can always live without worrying about money."

Another lie. And Mina knew it.

"I don't want that, I want him to stay normally..."

She finally confessed. Sooyoung never thought this is how she felt, or that she'd ever open up like this. Blinking away the tears forming, she pulled her child closer to her, hugging her to her chest.

"You'll know when you're older. But for now, I'll tell daddy what you said, that you just want him around more. You're right baby."

The two sat around longer, unaware of the man being awake. His eyes were still closed, but he heard everything, and it hurt him more than the any gunshot or broken bone ever did. And he knew what he had to do. It would upset some people, but he knew this was the only way.

I left, for you For your safety, for your future, for your life to be better I love you both too much to have you stuck in this any longer You don't deserve this, and it's my fault So I left, for your mother, for you Happy birthday my dearest daughter, remember I'll always love you and only you two I never thought I'd ever say this, but I wish my life was different I wish I could have given you the normal life you wanted I promise one day I'll return, and as a normal father For you

Tears welled up in Mina's eyes, as well as her mother's who held her tight as they read the letter together. It's her fifteenth birthday, and she opened the gift her mother had discovered in the closet back at their old house before they moved out ten years ago.

After he left.

The gift had an envelope attached, and as much as she hated it at the time, Sooyoung decided to follow it's instructions of giving it to Mina on her fifteenth birthday, and kept it hidden until today.

"I miss him..." Mina sniffed into her mother's chest.

"Me too... I hope he's safe." Sooyoung pecked her head. She picked out the necklace, with the initial of her husband's surname, and put it around her daughter. "He hasn't seen you in so long, let's hope this necklace will help him recognise you."

Mina smiled at her mother, and Sooyoung realised he wouldn't need the necklace to recognise her. Not when she wore the same smile on her face as he did. One that healed her heart whenever they were together.

The two headed out for dinner, to a fancy restaurant as Sooyoung promised her daughter. A waiter took their order, and they talked amongst themselves when he suddenly came back with a cake.

"We didn't order th-"

"You're wearing the Nakamoto necklace," the man cut off Mina smiling, " you must be our owner's daughter. It's from him."

[kyuuyoon]

I CRYING SO BAD AFTER READ THIS WTFF😭😭😭😭😭

[nuoyipeach]

Thank you for reading💚 sorry abt the tears😭

[thebookbutterfly]

I love it when fan fiction writers are like: “ah shit, this was meant to be one part but I started writing it and now it has to be three”. Like the fanfic is happening to them and not being created by them.

[nuoyipeach]

Missing your yujoy and seulyong stories

trust me, I wanna get back so bad😭 the year's been kinds rough & busy (life update, I graduated uni!!) hopefully in the next couple weeks I can start my gears going again😌

[nuoyipeach]

cant dm

ouh not sure why, just send thru asks maybe?

edit: oh try now hahah

[theseulgis]

SEULGI for Knight China Magazine 2025 September Issue

[theseulgis]

SEULGI for Knight China Magazine 2025 September Issue pt. 2

[nuoyipeach]

she's so beautiful😭🤧❤️

[nuoyipeach]

Hi !! I really love your fanfics 🩷. I was hoping that you could make one about Johnny and Irene , sorry to bother you ! Have a nice day

Hello! Hope you will like this❤️❤️❤️

Your Eyes

[nuoyipeach]

Your Eyes

Bae Joohyun X Johnny Suh

warnings: tragic accident mentioned, blindness (pls excuse any errors as well)

tags: @beliver-of-destiny (requested)

"Joohyun are you serious?" Joohyun nodded at her father as both her parents could only gasp. She was confident in her decision, and knew she was ready for this step as well as her lover.

"I'm old enough to get married dad." she spoke, but her parents still looked worried.

"I get that, but..." her father hesitated before he continued, "with Johnny?"

This annoyed her. Yes it's a huge step for them compared to other couples, but it was no reason for them to question it in such a way.

"Dad I've been with him for five years now, ever since first year of college. You know him well, you both loved him too, so why are you being pessimistic now?" she asked back, her tone a little angry.

It was true she knew Johnny for a while now. They dated for a long time, and her parents loved him. If it was possible they would have married during university but waited to finish their education and find jobs before they did, though it didn't stop them partially living together half the time. As many said, they were a match made in heaven, especially seeing how they were there for each other through tough times.

But there was one thing her parents were worried about, something that sadly wasn't an issue until recent events.

"He's... blind..." her father, knowing he was wrong for his concerns, managed to let out softly.

Joohyun scoffed. "So? He still functions as a normal person. Being blind doesn't mean he's any less of a man, or that I love him any less. And he's learned everything already, you know that too."

Johnny wasn't always blind. But a sudden accident three years ago caused him to lose his sight. He was so depressed by that he didn't even try to get better until Joohyun stayed with him. She wanted him to live on, and pushed him to learn braille, sense things, and so on. Throughout it she learned too, how to help him and how to interact with blind people.

"Honey, your dad is just worried." Joohyun's mother spoke instead. "Listen, we don't hate Johnny, if anything we’ve always approved of him, and we supported him through this difficult time. We love him like our own, you know that." she sighed before continuing. "We're just worried about you. You have work, and you have to take care of him. What if in the future you have your own kids? How will you manage?"

Joohyun slumped back into her seat on the couch. She knew her parents had valid concerns, as much as it hurt her to hear them. But she was prepared, she begun doing so since the day it happened, and nothing could make her back down.

"Lots of blind people have families mum, and they deal with it. I don't see how this makes our relationship any different."

The elderly couple could only look at each other and sigh. It was obvious since the time they first met Johnny that these two would eventually be together for the rest of their lives. But since the accident, they were worried for their daughter.

"I guess we don't really have a say now do we?" her mother continued, holding her husband's hand. "I mean, it was obvious that you'd end up together, but after what happened I was always worried for you. I know you wouldn't break up with him, yet I don't know why I never thought you'd marry him..."

Joohyun sighed, trying to smile. "Everything will be fine you guys. Trust me. I wouldn't have spent all that time in the supporting class for him if I didn't plan on being with him forever would I?"

The couple nodded, and finally decided to just side with her. Joohyun was happy, and after having dinner with her parents, she left to go to Johnny's house. She'd often stay over more to just him around, but recently stopped overnight stays due to her work, and had hired a professional to come over just in case on days she couldn't make it.

Now, she could live with him full time.

Once she arrived, she entered the small apartment to find it completely quiet, as if no one was inside. Worried, she stepped in and walked around, when suddenly hearing thumping sounds from the bedroom. She went in right away, and found Johnny on the ground laid down on his side as he cried and kept banging his head on the floor.

"Johnny!" Joohyun rushed to him and pulled his head up to her lap. "What are you doing!?"

Johnny's eyes roamed, his hand slowly going up and touching Joohyun's hair. Ever since going blind, the one thing he was able to recognise from first touch was Joohyun, whether her face, skin, or hair, he had her memorised.

"Joohyun..." he whimpered. Joohyun pulled him up more so that she sat on the floor with him laying on her lap, and combed his hair. One thing she learned was if he seemed distressed, the best thing to do was to initiate touch, calmly speak to him, and talk things out.

"What were you doing?"

"I'm... I'm just so tired of not seeing... I thought if I bang my head again I'll see..."

A tear went down the side of his eye and she quickly wiped it off. "Baby that's not how it works, you know that. Please stop hating yourself. I love you no matter how you are, remember that." she raised his head and kissed his forehead before helping him up. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

She tucked him in, then changed into one of his shirts and her underwear and laid next to him. She propped up her head on one arm and pulled him to her chest. Johnny turned to her and hugged her, nuzzling into her chest as he inhaled her scent.

The only scent he familiarised. Johnny only learned to familiarise Joohyun, not even his family, because only she believed him. Only she knew what really happened the day he lost his sight.

Johnny was in the car with his cousin. He was simply driving them to his family's house for dinner, when the man did something unexpected. He pushed over to Johnny's side and messed around with the steering wheel causing him to crash. Reason? Their grandfather had just passed away and left most of his fortune to his "eldest healthy grandchild", which was Johnny. Despite being unable to kill him, he managed to ruin his eyesight, which he used as an unfit trait since their grandfather did say eldest "healthy".

And no matter how much Johnny protested it was his doing, even wanting for an investigation, his cousin's family fought over the fortune coming down to him because to them Johnny was now disabled. Worst part? Johnny's family didn't even help support him. They just gave up.

Johnny was so devastated he didn't leave his apartment for two weeks. It was Joohyun who came right away and took care of him every single day. She was the one who finally got him to go for rehabilitation, to learn how to continue with his four senses. Her mother would even send food daily while she lived with him throughout his first month of recovery, while her father offered to drive him to his appointments before Joohyun did it herself.

It had been almost two years since he last spoke to his family. Joohyun's family were always ready to have him over for events, but otherwise Johnny preferred to stay away from society. Truth was he didn't care about his grandfather's wealth. His only problem was the injustice.

Joohyun played with his hair, combing through it try to get him to sleep. She laid her head down and kissed his forehead, then rested her chin on his head.

"Joohyun, if I died back then..."

"Not again Johnny." Joohyun scolded lightly. He'd always ask her negative what ifs, and she hated them.

"If I did... Would you still have believed me?"

"How would you tell me dead?" she moved away and cupped his face with one hand. "Stop saying such things. Forget about it Johnny, I've told you before. There's better things to think about."

Johnny sighed, his voice sounding broken. "Like what? I have nothing..."

Joohyun shook her head then kissed him, pulling away slightly so their noses still touched. "Maybe think about what colour you want our wedding theme to be." she said with a smile, and by his expression could tell he knew it.

"Oh Joohyun."

There was one thing Johnny didn't need his sight for, and didn't bother him. With his love for Joohyun he was fast to memorise her body easily. And now as they made love, he didn't at all think about not being able to see her, because he could just imagine how beautiful she looked as their bodies worked as one.

"Stop..." Joohyun panted. "You need to stop... thinking bad... Oh..."

Johnny leaned into her neck kissing it. "I'm sorry... I can't see... I want to see... Especially you..."

She held his face and brought it down to kiss him again, longer this time, soft moans in between. She pulled away feeling a sudden jolt and moaned louder. "Johnny... You don't need to... Yo- Oh... You're still the same person... I still love you..."

>>>

As usual the father would walk the bride, and Joohyun now waited outside with her father. The doors had a small crack opened, and she could see her family on her left, and Johnny's friends on the right. He didn't invite his family, and Joohyun wondered if he even told them. But she wasn't one to ask and make him feel uncomfortable. His friends even volunteered to host the wedding and make it fun with performances.

As Doyoung called her in, Joohyun and her father walked down the aisle smiling brightly. She looked at Johnny, who stood with his eyes down at the floor, as always. But blinded, his other senses were heightened, and he immediately put his hand out hearing the footsteps stop in front of him. Joohyun giggled and took his hand, and they finally stood across each other at the priest.

"Do you take Seo Youngho as your husband through sickness and through health?"

Joohyun cupped his face with one hand smiling brightly, and her touch made him smile too. It always did.

"I do."

"Do you take Bae Joohyun as your wife through sickness and through health?"

Johnny held her hand on his cheek and pulled it down, grasping it tight.

"I do."

As the priest continued, Joohyun felt his hand shake suddenly. She knew that since the accident, whenever he shook in such a manner it meant he was close to crying. Not even caring about the ceremony, she quickly moved closer and held his face, causing the priest to stutter for a second.

"What's wrong?" Johnny suddenly let out tears so she hugged him, his face buried into her neck. "What is it honey?"

"I don't... know... I don't..."

"Hush... It's OK."

Joohyun motioned the priest to finish the ceremony quickly, which he did as he simply moved onto the final event.

"I now announce you man and wife. You may kiss..."

Joohyun slowly pulled him out and wiped away his tears. She smiled at him and pulled him in for a kiss. "I love you so much Joohyun..." he whispered as they pulled away, making her smile before they turned around to the cheers of their guests.

>>>

Life wasn't easy, but the couple were prepared for everything. Joohyun never let a single obstacle throw her off her course of balancing between her work and taking care of Johnny. He didn't need as much help as he did at first once he slowly got more accustomed to surviving on his own this way, if anything it was Joohyun who was still afraid of letting him go out alone even to the convenience store downstairs.

Johnny only laughed, saying he counted his steps everytime they went together, and finally one day she let him go while trailing behind to make sure nothing goes wrong. Much to their relief Johnny was able to make it to the store, get some help to find what he needed, then back home without her having to intervene (except when he almost stepped on a fallen chips pack some child dropped earlier).

"See love, I can do it." she smiled as he waved the bag in his hand around now back in their apartment. They had moved into a bigger one, though in the same complex as Johnny's previous one so that he didn't have to familiarise with a whole new place.

"I'm so happy." she responded before enveloping him in a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, honey." she pecked a kiss on his cheek before taking the bag from him and taking it to put away in the kitchen. Johnny's triumphant smile remained as he folded his cane away and sat down, when a notification came on his phone.

He knew what it was, and waited until Joohyun came to hand it to her. She did help him set her and her parents on speed dial and voice command, but other than that he had no reason to use it anymore.

There was only one other reason his phone would ding in this tone, and that was a message from his family, which he always let his wife check for him. Once she returned he held it to her, and she opened it as she sat next to him to check.

"Oh, it's just your shares this month." Joohyun said, leaning against his side as she told him the amount. They may have not spoken in years, but Johnny's grandmother had made sure he had and received his fair share from the investments his grandfather had split amongst them.

He may not have gotten what was promised to him, but after everything he was glad to live the way he did, especially after seeing where his family's loyalty lied. The only reason he even accepted this money was for Joohyun, and their future together.

Joohyun could see his dazed expression, so put his phone away before she cupped his face and turned him towards her, her thumb rubbing against the corner of his lips as if to make him smile.

"I love you." she said softly, before snuggling into his chest while his arm around her tightened. Her hand went down to grab his other one, intertwining their fingers. "I'll always be by your side. You make me so happy, and for that I'll be your eyes."

>>>

a/n: so basically, I've had this prompt in my drafts for like 3-4yrs?🤡 idk why I never got around to writing it out, but after the recent request and doomscrolling through my drafts & saved prompts I decided to give it a go hahah hope you like it🫶🏼

[yuta-nakamots]

Watching TV - L.Mark

Pairing - Boyfriend!Mark x AFAB Reader

Genre(s) - Fluff, Smut

Warning(s) - smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), dubcon (Mark insists 'just the tip' but it's very much not that), multiple orgasms

Summary - What starts as a joke about condoms turns into desperate, heated intimacy that ends with Mark grinning against your lips, swearing his pull-out game is flawless.

Word Count - 2.3k

Author’s Note - This was inspired by a fever dream about texting Mark

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls (join my taglist!)

Now Playing: Watching TV - Mark

Your thumbs hover over your phone longer than they should before you text your boyfriend, Mark. 

‘we’re out of condoms’

‘too lazy to go buy more’

‘how good is your pull out game?’

You don’t expect a reply right away. He was probably on his way home right now. But your phone buzzes within seconds. 

‘👀’

‘you wanna test it?’

‘because i’m almost home’

You laugh to yourself, tossing your phone aside. You were mostly joking anyway. 

By the time you hear his key in the lock, you’ve forgotten all about it. You were in sweats and one of his hoodies, reheating leftovers and scrolling through social media when he walked in with a grin tucked into the corners of his mouth like he already knows something you don’t want to admit. 

“Hey,” he greets, dropping his bag by the door. “About what you said earlier…” 

“I was kidding,” you tell him, handing him a plate. “Mostly.” 

Mark smirks, brushing a kiss to your cheek before settling on the couch. You join him not too long after. Dinner is easy, quiet. You eat with your legs tangled together, shoulders brushing, the TV humming in the background. It’s the kind of night that feels domestic. Warm lighting, full bellies, a shared blanket. Ordinary in the best way. 

But then Mark’s hand slips beneath the hem of your hoodie. Just a little. Just enough to trace circles over your bare waist, his thumb brushing the softest part of your stomach. His fingertips graze the band of your underwear like it’s an accident, but you know better.

You glance at him, ready to tease, but he’s already watching you, his gaze low-lidded and dangerous. 

“Still too lazy to go buy some?” he asks. 

You blink at him. “You’re the one who drove here and didn’t stop to buy any.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, lips twitching. His fingers trail higher, ghosting just beneath the curve of your breast before slipping away again. “Guess we’re not doing anything tonight, then.” You shove his shoulder lightly, but he only laughs, leaning closer until his breath warms your ear. “Nothing at all,” he whispers, hand skimming down your thigh under the blanket. 

“Nothing,” you agree, biting back a smile, though neither of you seems to mean it as the teasing touches linger, each one daring the other to break first. 

The first kiss is slow, more a press of mouths than anything urgent. But it builds fast, his fingers skating under your shirt, yours curling in his hair, the blanket slipping off both of your laps as he nudges you onto your back. 

Mark’s hips settle between yours. It was just the weight of him, the warm slide of sweatpants against you. Then he grinds down, and your breath catches. 

He groans, low and sharp. “Are you sure we don’t have anything?” he groans into your neck. “And you’re not—”

“Nope,” you respond, already rolling your hips up into his. “Not on anything.” 

You both freeze for a second. The tension builds between you in a shared, sharp awareness. But then he does it again, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, letting you feel how hard he is even through the layers. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is—this is so bad.” 

“It’s so bad,” you echo, arms tightening around his shoulders. “But you feel so good.” 

You’re both laughing under your breath, the kind of laugh that dissolves into breathless sighs as your bodies fall into a rhythm. Dry heat. Friction. His hips meet yours again and again, your panties growing damp.. You feel his cock twitch, how close he’s getting just from this. 

Mark pulls back just enough to look at you. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” 

“Doing what?” you tease, but your voice is thin, your thighs already trembling. 

He kisses you again, messier this time, his hand dipping down between you and into your underwear. His fingers slide through the heat of you, and he groans into your mouth. “You’re so—” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pushes two fingers inside, your walls gripping him instantly, and he swears against your lips. 

The stretch makes you gasp, your hips lifting into his hand. He curls his fingers just right, knuckles dragging against your softest spots until your thighs tremble. It’s all slick sounds and sharp breaths now. His fingers massaging your walls, your hips rocking into his hand helplessly. 

Your hand finds him, too, slipping past the waistband of his sweats. He’s flushed and hard when you feel the silky heat stretched tight over the heavy length of him. He shudders when your fingers wrap around him, leaking slick against your palm. You stroke him in time with the thrust of his fingers inside you, the rhythm sloppy and desperate but perfectly matched, each of you unraveling the other with every tug and curl. 

“Fuck, babe—” Mark’s forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers pump faster, curling deep until your thighs quake. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with each movement, pulling sharp little sounds from your throat. You squeeze him harder in return, dragging your thumb over the swollen, wet tip, making his hips jerk helplessly into your hand. 

It builds fast, too fast, and you’re clenching around his fingers, pulling him deeper, moaning into his mouth as your body seizes with release. He doesn’t let up, working you through it until your hips fall limp beneath him, sweat slicking your skin. 

You barely catch your breath before you’re fumbling at your waistband, tugging your pants and underwear down your legs, and tossing them aside. Mark sits back, chest heaving, pupils blown wide as he watches you crawl towards him. 

“Wait, wait—” Mark’s protest is drowned in a choked sound as you kneel between his thighs and tug his sweats down just enough to free him. He’s thick and flushed in your hand, twitching when you lean down to take him in your mouth. 

The first wet lick up the full length of his cock has his head tilting back against the couch. “Oh, fuck.” His fingers thread into your hair, not pushing, just clinging. 

You hollow your cheeks, sliding down until he hits the back of your throat, then pulling off with a wet pop to lick along the sensitive underside, tongue tracing every vein until he’s trembling. Mark moans helplessly, thighs flexing beneath your hands.

When you cup his balls gently, his whole body jerks. He gasps your name like it’s the only word he knows, high and thin, hips twitching up despite himself. You suck harder, dragging your tongue in slow, deliberate laps, alternating between swallowing him down and teasing the swollen head with light flicks until he’s whimpering. 

“Fuck—baby, please…please, I can’t,” he pants, tugging weakly at your hair. “You’re killing me.” His voice breaks on a groan. “I need to be inside you, just the tip—I promise, just the tip.” 

You hum around him, pulling back just enough to smirk. “Only the tip. You have to promise.” 

“I promise!” he cries out, already dragging you up for a desperate kiss. 

You’re already half gone, nodding as he pulls his sweatpants and underwear off, throwing them to join yours on the floor. He pushes you back against the couch, guiding himself to your entrance. The first stretch has you crying out, your nails digging into his arms. 

Mark shudders, jaw tight, pushing only the head of his cock inside. His whole body shakes as he exhales through clenched teeth, forehead pressing to yours. 

“Fuck—just the tip,” he growls, almost like a warning to himself. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he fights not to push farther, but every pulse of your walls around him drags him deeper by instinct. He’s panting, chest heaving, veins standing out in his neck, yet he stays still, like he’s convincing himself as much as you. But then your hips twitch, a needy little roll that drags another inch of him inside.

“Mark,” you whine, already trembling. 

He curses again, thrusting shallowly, just enough for the tip to press and retreat. His resolve breaks with every little sound that escapes from your mouth. Each time he rocks forward, more of him slips past the tight clutch of your walls until you feel the thick weight of him stretching you open. 

“I only meant—just the tip,” he pants, but the lie dies when his hips drive forward harder, burying half of him in one slick thrust. “God—fuck—you’re so tight,” he stammers, voice cracking. His rhythm falters as he pulls almost all the way out, then sinks back in, slower this time, savoring every inch. 

You cry out, back arching, knuckles white against his shoulders. “Mark—fuck, you’re already inside,” you whimper, voice breaking. “You might as well just fuck me.” 

Mark squeezes his eyes shut, groaning like he’s tearing himself apart. But your desperate pleas crack him wide open. With one hard thrust, he pushes fully inside, hips flush to yours, the stretch searing and euphoric. 

The heat of him fills every inch, thick and throbbing, textured veins dragging against your walls until you’re gasping, overwhelmed by how deep he reaches. You cling to him like you’ll fall apart if you don’t, sobbing his name against his shoulder as he holds you there, buried in your wet heat, shaking with the effort to stay in control. 

It’s too much, too hot, too good. Mark sets a rougher pace, hips snapping into yours with raw need. His body trembles against you, growls ripping from his throat as he loses his rhythm. You’re gasping, nails scraping down his back, his body shaking with the effort of holding on. 

“Shit—shit, I’m gonna cum—” His thrusts grow frantic and desperate, the tip of his cock nudging so deep you swear you can’t breathe. 

Your hands fly up, clutching Mark’s face, forcing him to look at you. “Not inside, Mark—You have to pull out.” Your voice is broken but firm, even as your own pleasure crests. 

He groans miserably, teeth gritted, fighting his body’s instinct. “Fuck—I will, I will—”

Mark’s hips stutter before he yanks out at the last second with a ragged groan cry, spilling hot across your stomach in heavy spurts where your hoodie rode up. The sound of his pleasure tears out of him, sharp and guttural, as his body bows and then collapses forward. His forehead falls to your shoulder, chest heaving, his muscles trembling with the aftershock. His breath is harsh against your neck, broken gasps tangled with the sound of your own ragged breathing. 

But he doesn’t stop. Still shuddering, he drags his mouth down your throat, pushing your hoodie up higher, exposing your breasts, and leaving open-mouthed kisses on them as he makes his way lower. His hand slips between your thighs, spreading you wide as he settles in, his other palm smearing through his own release across your skin. He groans at the mess, at how wet you already are even before his tongue is on you. 

The first drag of it is slow and deliberate, from your entrance to your clit, but then he’s sucking you into his mouth, greedy and insistent. He flattens his tongue against you, licking broad and heavy until you’re writhing, then narrowing to spear inside you, fucking into your heat with wet strokes that make your hips jump. He pulls back just enough to circle your clit, lips closing around it, sucking until your vision swims. 

“Mark—holy fuck—” Your voice cracks, your thighs trembling around his head, but he only groans into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. He alternates between tongue-fucking you deep and sucking hard on your clit, working you with a feral sort of focus that leaves you gasping. The wet, obscene sounds fill the air as he slurps at everything you give him, tongue drinking you down like he can’t get enough. 

It’s too much, the pleasure building until it finally breaks you. Your body arches, shuddering hard as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping tight around his head. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow, licking you through it, swallowing every drop as you cry out and shake against him. 

Only when you’re trembling and boneless does he finally let up, kissing back up your body in slow, messy lines. His tongue traces your stomach, licking up the cooling streaks of his cum, lapping at the taste of himself before moving higher. 

When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deep and wet, pushing the salty tang of him and the sweetness of you onto your tongue. The kiss is filthy and desperate, spit-slick and hungry, until you’re both panting against each other’s mouths. 

At last, Mark lowers himself onto you, his body heavy and warm as he goes limp. His arms circle around your shoulders, holding you close, his cheek pressed to yours, while his breathing finally starts to steady. 

His hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead when he finally cracks a grin against your cheek, breath ghosting over your skin. He nuzzles into you, lips brushing lazily along your jaw before he murmurs, voice hoarse but teasing. “My pull out game is pretty solid, huh?”

You let out a weak laugh, still dazed, smacking lightly at his shoulder. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Mark only chuckles, smug but exhausted, pressing another sloppy kiss to your mouth as if to seal his point. “Almost doesn’t count, babe.” 

You groan, burying your face in his chest, but the corners of your mouth betray you with a smile. His arms tighten around you, and even as his joke lingers, he melts further into your body, humming softly as sleep starts to creep in. 

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like LOL (Laugh-Out-Loud) - S.Johnny

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls (join my taglist!)

[nuoyipeach]

the fact that I've had this since Golden Hour actually released makes me angry at myself🤡

[k-oimani1]

DUDE— I MEAN BABE !! -˚꩜｡- MARK LEE (이민형)

Oh no! Mark accidentally calls the love of his life dude! And now his baby is ignoring him ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡

Mark’s leaning over the back of the couch, upper body hanging down until his face is almost upside down above you. You’re curled up with your knees to your chest, scrolling through TikTok like he’s not even there, refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

He’s staring at you with those wide, pleading eyes, the kind that are way too hard to stay mad at.

“Babeeee,” he drags the word out dramatically, like he’s casting a fishing line and reeling you in, “you know I didn’t mean it.”

You don’t even glance up. “Nope.”

“C’mon,” he whines, leaning closer until his upside-down face is level with yours, peppering tiny kisses along your cheek.

You raise an eyebrow but keep your gaze locked on your phone, fighting the smile threatening to give you away. “You don’t call the love of your life ‘dude’ or ‘bro,’ Mark.”

He pulls back, mouth falling open like you’ve accused him of a crime. “I call everyone that!”

Finally, you turn your head just enough to give him a flat, unimpressed look. “Everyone? So I’m just… everyone now?”

“Stop thatttt,” he groans, pressing another kiss to your cheek before nuzzling into the side of your neck, covering your skin in warm little kisses. You roll your eyes, turning your face away to hide the stupidly giddy smile trying to break through.

But Mark’s relentless. He slides his hands along your jaw, gently tilting your face upward so you’re forced to look at him. From where he’s leaning over the couch, he gazes down at you with that boyish grin—half guilty, half smug.

“You’re not everyone,” he says softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re my baby. My girl. My princess. My—”

“—dude?” you interrupt, lips twitching.

He groans again, dropping his forehead dramatically against yours. “Okay, fine. I’ll never say it again. Just don’t ice me out like this, I’m dying.”

You smirk, finally setting your phone aside. “We’ll see.”

Mark’s grin is immediate. “So… does that mean I can kiss you now without you rolling your eyes?”

You try to act unaffected, but he’s already leaning down, brushing his lips against yours in a quick, eager kiss before you can protest. And you can’t help but kiss him back.

yayyyyy i finally posted !! and it’s more mark !! he’s so cute i could eat him !!

[cbeargyu]

marry me, mr. jeong

summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behind—no ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal: "marry me." and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.

pairing: boss!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: romance, slow burn, fluff, emotional smut, domestic married life, eventual pregnancy, emotional growth, healing.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.

wc: 19,7K

notes: i’m obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. man’s got range 😮‍💨💍🖤 i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time 😭 like girl be fr, when’s the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao 💀

you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.

you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.

jeong jaehyun.

your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.

you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.

you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.

tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.

“you’re still here, byun?”

you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”

you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”

he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”

a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.

“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”

you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.

“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”

you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”

another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”

he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”

and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.

you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.

the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.

your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.

you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.

you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.

you didn’t hear him come in.

you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.

“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”

he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.

you blinked.

right. the report.

you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.

you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.

“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”

you nodded. “understood.”

“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”

“yes, mr. jeong.”

and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.

you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.

the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.

as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”

then jaehyun spoke.

his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.

until he said your name.

“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”

you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.

you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.

“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”

you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.

when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.

like you’d done well. like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.

the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.

when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.

“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.

“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”

he nodded. “you earned it.”

later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.

the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.

the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”

the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”

“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.

he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”

jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.

“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”

he raised his glass. “to y/n.”

“to y/n,” echoed around the table.

you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.

you were finally going somewhere.

the dinner had blurred into noise.

conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.

when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.

“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.

he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”

you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.

“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.

jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”

you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.

“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”

you took a breath, not daring to look at him.

“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”

jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.

“i can celebrate with you.”

you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”

he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.

“then marry me.”

your brain stalled.

you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.

“…what?” you whispered.

“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”

the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.

you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”

“we know enough,” he said without blinking.

“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”

“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.

you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”

“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”

you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.

he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”

“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”

jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”

he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.

“i’ll take you home,” he said.

you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”

he looked down at you, expression unreadable.

“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”

and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.

you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.

you didn’t sleep.

not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.

then marry me.

you have seven months to decide.

like some sort of countdown had been triggered.

you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.

your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.

you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.

you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.

then—

“good morning.”

his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.

you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.

“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”

he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.

a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.

you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.

you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.

he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.

“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.

“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.

you lingered.

“mr. jeong.”

he finally looked up.

his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.

you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”

his expression didn’t change.

“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”

you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”

“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”

you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?

he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.

you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.

you’d never felt so out of control.

you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.

you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.

you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

your mind wouldn’t shut up.

you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.

why would he say that? why now? why you?

he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.

so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.

but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?

he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?

a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.

why you?

you didn’t have an answer.

you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.

but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.

leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.

he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.

“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”

not a question. not a request.

he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.

you hesitated, only for a second.

but then you followed.

because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:

you wanted to know.

you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.

he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.

you stared straight ahead.

ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.

the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.

you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.

you didn’t look at him. “not really.”

“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”

you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”

“anytime,” he said dryly.

and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.

the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.

“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”

you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”

“love it.”

you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”

he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”

“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”

you said nothing.

because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.

how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?

he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.

you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.

once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.

“why me?”

his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”

“do you say that to all women?”

he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”

you shook your head. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”

“i never said you did.”

you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”

his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.

“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”

you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.

“just like that?”

“just like that.”

you couldn’t look away.

and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.

“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.

you saw him as a man.

a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.

his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.

you saw him differently.

you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.

but something inside you had shifted.

you just didn’t know what to call it.

he didn’t rush you.

he didn’t push.

he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.

and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.

“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”

just like that.

your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”

he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”

you blinked. “that’s okay?”

“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”

but you were thinking. too much.

his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?

your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.

you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.

and you remembered.

all those nights crying in silence.

all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.

ever finding someone.

ever being enough.

ever being loved without begging for it.

maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.

maybe he was better.

you looked up at him.

“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”

he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.

your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”

for a beat, the world went still.

he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.

he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn’t want to scare it off.

“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”

you swallowed hard.

and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.

you weren’t sure if this was love.

but it was a beginning.

the next morning. everything is different.

you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.

a woman who knew what she wanted.

a woman who said yes.

you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.

you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.

you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.

and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.

jung jaehyun.

same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.

but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.

you stood up—too fast.

too happy.

“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.

it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.

the entire floor stopped.

heads turned.

some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.

jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.

“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.

you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.

the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.

you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.

after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.

he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.

“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.

you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.

once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.

“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.

“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.

“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”

you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”

“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”

you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”

“i’m not asking you to apologize.”

“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”

he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.

“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”

you grinned. “i’m worse.”

he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.

“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”

you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.

the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.

the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.

you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.

not knowing was part of the charm.

“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.

he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.

“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.

there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.

and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.

a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.

it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.

you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.

“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”

jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.

“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.

he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.

a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.

he did.

“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.

“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”

no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.

the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.

every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.

“are you bored?” you whispered.

“not even close.”

“you haven’t laughed once.”

he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”

you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.

“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.

you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.

as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.

he still didn’t touch you.

he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.

but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.

“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”

“you don’t have to thank me.”

“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”

he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.

“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”

you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.

“you’re doing well so far.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.

but inside… you felt it.

your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.

you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.

but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…

you wanted to find out.

you wanted to try.

the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.

jaehyun noticed immediately.

you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.

you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.

by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.

"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.

"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”

you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.

the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.

he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.

“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”

you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”

“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”

you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.

at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number: meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late. signed J.J.

you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.

the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.

after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.

“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.

you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”

he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”

you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.

“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”

he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.

“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”

you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”

he nodded. “siblings?”

“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”

jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”

you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”

jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”

“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”

you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.

before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”

he shook his head. “only child.”

“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.

he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”

you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”

jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”

he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”

you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.

you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”

he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.

the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.

and then he stood and offered you his hand.

you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.

he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”

you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”

he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.

he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.

your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.

and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.

they lingered.

because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.

there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.

just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.

you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.

still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.

the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.

today was one of those days.

you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.

“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”

you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”

“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”

you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”

he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”

you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.

“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”

jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”

the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.

you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”

“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.

jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.

the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.

his skin was warm under your lips.

he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.

“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.

“doing what?” you asked innocently.

he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”

you grinned and didn’t answer.

he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.

“i like this,” you said softly.

“what part?” he asked.

“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”

he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“me too.”

you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.

and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.

and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.

june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.

one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.

he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.

you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.

you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.

but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.

at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.

the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.

jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.

“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”

your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.

“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”

your face flushed.

you looked away, but only for a second.

because when you met his eyes again, he stood.

in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.

he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”

you nodded, breathless. “okay.”

and then he kissed you again.

the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.

that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.

this time, he didn’t say hello.

he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.

he never rushed.

never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.

but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.

and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”

his smile was crooked. dangerous.

“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”

thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.

you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.

“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”

jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”

you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”

the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.

“wait—what?”

and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.

“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”

his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.

“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.

“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”

you froze.

he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.

married.

you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.

married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.

you shook the image out of your head.

“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.

“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”

friday night came like a slow exhale.

he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.

you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.

“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.

“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.

when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.

saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.

you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.

you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.

“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.

“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”

“you were so cute.”

you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”

he stared. “a week?”

“he said i was too uptight and boring.”

jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”

you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”

he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.

“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.

“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”

tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.

“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.

“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”

the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.

grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.

you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.

it wasn’t glamorous.

but it felt like home.

and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—

you were falling in love.

for real.

for the first time.

towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.

you answer.

“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”

you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.

“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”

you rub your temple. “mom—”

“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”

you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.

“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”

a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”

“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”

“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”

before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.

the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.

you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.

“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”

your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.

“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”

he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”

you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”

“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”

your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.

friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.

jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.

“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.

the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.

when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.

and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.

“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”

inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.

he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.

“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”

your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.

“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.

you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.

then comes the chaos.

your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.

“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”

you groan. “shut up, baek.”

the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.

jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.

he freezes.

and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.

he blushes.

and you notice.

“what?” you whisper as you lean close.

he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”

the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.

he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.

he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”

and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.

this might just be the beginning of everything.

the month of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.

jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.

one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.

jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.

the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.

jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”

you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”

jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”

you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.

both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.

“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”

you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.

jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.

you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”

his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.

his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.

what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.

when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.

when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.

you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.

you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you. 

his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”

you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.

your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.

he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”

when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.

your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.

after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.

your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”

you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”

and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.

you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”

your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”

he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”

you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.

when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.

he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”

your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.

you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”

your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.

this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.

“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”

he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”

that night at the motel changed everything.

it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.

after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.

but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.

it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.

by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.

you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.

and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.

“i love you.”

your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.

you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.

it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.

but not wrong.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.

“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”

and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.

it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.

what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.

and the craziest part?

you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.

august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.

and then—the email.

subject line: promotion confirmation.

you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.

jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.

he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face. and then you said it.

“i got it.”

“you got what?” he blinked, confused.

“the promotion.”

his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.

“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”

you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.

he took you out that night.

you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.

“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”

your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.

“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”

jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.

“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”

you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.

you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.

you didn’t need fireworks.

this was better.

this was yours.

mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.

you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.

so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.

“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.

you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.

“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.

“yeah?”

you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.

“i want to marry you.”

his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.

“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”

“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”

he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.

“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”

“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”

he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”

you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”

his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”

and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.

the proposal happened three days later.

he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.

he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.

he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.

and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.

“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”

he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.

your eyes began to water.

he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.

a velvet box.

he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.

“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”

he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.

“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”

you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.

in that moment, september never felt sweeter.

telling the company was a whole thing.

it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.

you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.

the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.

"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."

you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.

jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”

the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.

jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.

“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”

your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—

cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.

“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”

you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”

the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”

the parents came next.

you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.

"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"

you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.

“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”

“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.

then it was his parents' turn.

you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.

“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”

they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.

it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.

they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.

from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.

the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused. her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.

“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”

and then came the parents.

jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”

her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day. but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.

they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.

and then, jaehyun.

when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.

he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.

she mouthed “you’re mine.”

the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.

“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”

“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”

they kissed.

and the world felt new again.

their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.

“we did it,” she whispered.

“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”

the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.

their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.

they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars. they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava. they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.

“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.

“then it’s the life we’ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”

and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.

it sounded like a promise.

three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.

you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.

mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.

but then, one evening, the quiet changed.

you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.

when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.

two pink lines.

you stared. blinked. stared again.

your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.

you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.

jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”

you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.

“we’re gonna be parents!!”

the silence cracked. and then—

jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.

you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”

“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.

months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.

you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.

your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”

the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.

jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.

“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”

you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.

he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”

the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.

and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.

you. him. her.

and the love that built it all.

finally. completely.

beautifully yours.

[kongjjen]

pairing: rich husband!jaehyun x female reader ★ genre: fluff, mature, headcanon ★ warnings: mature themes ★ wc: 338 ★ a/n: im frothing at the mouth i need jaehyun so badly

rich husband!jaehyun who spoils you rotten. he takes out that black credit card like that's the easiest thing in the world (it is, to him). slides that credit card for anything, he even gives you a copy in case he's not with you when you need it.

cute shoes you've been eyeing for a while? you should have told him sooner. miumiu bag that suits your skin tone? yeah, that's yours on the spot.

rich husband!jaehyun who takes you on vacation four-five times a year. he loves italy so most of your holidays are spent there, at the lake, at the beach, milan. he rents a house on the lake, and a boat — because how else would the two of you reach some of the islands there, for day trips? you remind him that there are ferries you can take, and he pretends he doesn't hear you when you bring it up.

rich husband!jaehyun who loves expensive wine, expensive dinners. it's not like he won't eat something in the normal price range, but why have all this money if you don't feel the pleasures of life?

rich husband!jaehyun who drives a porsche 718 spyder, for which he spent ten grand more so he could get it in a limited, personalised colour.

rich husband!jaehyun who fucks you senseless. doesn't matter if you're on a boat on a lake in italy or switzerland, or if you're residing in the best resorts around the world. he gets at least two orgasms out of you each time and maybe, just maybe, he considers finishing as well.

rich husband!jaehyun who loves car sex! his porsche or your mercedes-benz he gifted you for your wedding anniversary, it doesn't matter, although he lowkey prefers your car for comfort in the backseat.

rich husband!jaehyun who's dying to put a baby inside you. he loves you, he can provide for you and him just fine, so he'd love to have a baby with you. and that's the thing, a baby with you? looking like both you and him? yeah he wouldn't have it any other way.

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