ddeonghwa

24 she/her multi-stan

[dallyna]

Fixing What's Broken

MASTERLIST

Jeong Yunho x Reader

Word count : 13,6k

Genre : angst and fluff, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, romance, eventual smut.

Pairing : mechanic!yunho x female!reader

Summary : Breaking down hours away from home was never part of the plan. Neither was meeting Jeong Yunho, the town's notoriously grumpy mechanic who prefers engines over people and has a reputation for fixing the cars everyone else gives up on. With her car stranded at JY's Garage for days, Y/N finds herself returning again and again, only to discover that some walls are much harder to break than engines.

Warnings : alternative universe, mature themes, enemies to lovers, slight swearing, eventual smut, praise kink, hand kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, use of nicknames (sweetheart, baby, princess), playful banter.

*Y/N = your name

A/N : This story hasn't been proofread, so I apologize for any typos or mistakes. Requests are open, so feel free to share your ideas. Don't hesitate to leave a comment. Kind words keep me motivated, constructive criticism helps me improve.

Enjoy ♡

MINORS DNI ❗ MINORS DNI ❗ MINORS DNI

The engine gave out hours away from her hometown. She was on her way back from a short vacation, only to get stuck in the middle of nowhere.

At first, Y/N barely noticed it. The steady hum beneath the hood faltered for a split second before the entire car lurched forward, the dashboard lighting up like a Christmas tree. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel as she instinctively eased off the accelerator, hoping the engine would somehow recover on its own. It didn't. Instead, the old sedan lost what little momentum it had left, forcing her to guide it onto the narrow shoulder of the road while the rain continued to fall in an endless, gray curtain.

Silence settled around her the moment she turned the key again.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Each attempt was answered by nothing more than a weak, metallic clicking sound that echoed through the empty cabin, before fading into the rhythmic tapping of raindrops against the windshield.

For several long seconds, she simply stared ahead in disbelief.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" She groaned, letting her forehead fall against the steering wheel, before frustration finally got the better of her. "No. No, no, no... Come on."

The car, unsurprisingly, remained just as lifeless as before.

With a tired sigh, she reached for her phone, only to grimace when the battery icon flashed an unforgiving five percent. The signal was barely strong enough to load a webpage, but after what felt like an eternity of buffering, the search results finally appeared.

Most of the nearby repair shops were either permanently closed, had terrible reviews or couldn't tow vehicles until the following day.

Only one name kept appearing over and over again : JY's Garage.

Every review sounded strangely similar, almost as though hundreds of strangers had agreed to tell the same story.

"If your engine's dead, he's the only one who can bring it back."

"The guy works miracles, but don't expect small talk."

"Biker who rarely smiles, but does the job perfectly."

"A mechanic who fixes cars everyone else has already given up on."

"Pretty sure he likes motorcycles more than people, but his services... Top tier."

The reviews were oddly dramatic for someone who repaired engines for a living, painting the owner less like a mechanic and more like the subject of some local urban legend.

Y/N couldn't help rolling her eyes.

She had never been intimidated by the reputation people built around difficult men. In her experience, they were usually just ordinary people with an exaggerated myth surrounding them.

Still, with no better options and a rapidly dying phone, she called for a tow truck.

The driver who eventually arrived didn't have much to say. After securing the sedan onto the flatbed, he glanced toward the destination displayed on his screen, before letting out a quiet whistle.

"JY's Garage, huh?" He said, climbing back into the truck. "Guess your car's in good hands."

"You know the owner?" She asked.

The man shrugged. "Never really talked to him. Most people haven't. But everyone knows him."

That cryptic answer did little to reassure her.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the truck slowed to a stop in front of what looked far less like a repair shop and far more like the hideout of someone who preferred engines to conversation.

Rainwater dripped steadily from the corrugated metal roof as flickering neon signs cast streaks of red and blue across the wet pavement. Through the large garage doors, she could make out rows of beautifully restored classic motorcycles lined up with almost obsessive precision, their polished chrome reflecting the dim workshop lights. Somewhere deeper inside, old rock music played through worn speakers, blending with the metallic clatter of tools and the low growl of an engine being tested.

And then she saw it.

Parked directly in the center of the garage, as though everything else had been arranged around it, stood a matte-black motorcycle.

Its bodywork gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights without a single unnecessary detail, carrying the quiet confidence of something built for performance rather than attention. Even standing perfectly still, it seemed to command the entire room.

It looked beautiful. Arrogant. Expensive. Probably just like its owner.

The rhythmic clink of metal against metal echoed from somewhere in the back of the garage. It was the only warning Y/N received before someone emerged from the shadows.

Her breath hitched slightly. He was younger than she expected, tall enough that she instinctively lifted her chin to meet his gaze, his broad frame filling the doorway as though he belonged there as naturally as the motorcycles surrounding him. A white polo with deep crimson stripes clung to his shoulders, the sleeves carelessly rolled to his elbows, exposing forearms dusted with grease and dotted with tiny cuts that spoke of years spent working with stubborn machinery. Platinum-blond hair fell across his forehead in effortless disarray, partially obscuring a pair of dark eyes that carried the permanent expression of someone thoroughly unimpressed by the world around him.

A silver wrench rotated lazily between his fingers, so practiced that it looked less like a tool and more like an unconscious habit.

He looked attractive, but arrogant, charming, but stubborn.

His gaze landed on her, then shifted to the smoking sedan waiting on the tow truck, then returned to her.

"Can I help you?"

His voice was low and completely flat, stripped of anything that could remotely resemble warmth. There was no greeting, no polite smile, not even the faintest hint of curiosity.

Y/N folded her arms across her chest, standing her ground. "My car died."

His eyes drifted toward the vehicle again. "Clearly."

One eyebrow twitched. "What I meant was that I need you to fix it."

He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, the movement so relaxed it bordered on dismissive.

"Tomorrow."

She blinked. "What?"

"The garage closes in ten minutes."

For a second, she genuinely thought he was joking. Well, he wasn't.

"You're seriously telling me... " She started slowly, trying, and failing, to keep the disbelief out of her voice. "That you're leaving me stranded because your workday ends in ten minutes?"

One shoulder lifted in an indifferent shrug.

"Your car should've broken down earlier, I guess."

Y/N stared at him in complete disbelief. There it was, without question, the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said to her.

She took another step closer.

"People online said you were the best mechanic in town."

"I am."

Surprisingly, there was no trace of arrogance in the way he said it. That was somehow worse. It wasn't boasting. It was simply a fact, delivered with the confidence of someone who had no reason to prove himself.

"And yet..." She continued. "You're refusing to help a customer."

"I choose my customers."

"Oh." She let out a humorless laugh. "So you're difficult on purpose."

For the first time since he'd appeared, something shifted. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk almost imperceptibly.

"Most people figure that out faster."

She narrowed her eyes. He was infuriating. Completely, undeniably infuriating.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Then his attention drifted toward the thin stream of steam escaping from beneath her hood. A long sigh escaped him. It wasn't the sigh of someone convinced. It was the sigh of a man accepting an inconvenience he already regretted.

"Open it."

Y/N frowned. "Excuse me?"

"The hood." He caught the wrench in his palm before spinning it again. "Unless standing in the rain arguing with mechanics is your favorite hobby."

She blinked. "I thought you were closing."

"I am."

"Then why are you helping me?"

This time, when he met her eyes, there was the faintest trace of amusement buried beneath the indifference. "Because if you keep talking, the entire neighborhood is going to hear you. You've got quite the mouth on you, sweetheart."

Her jaw clenched at the sudden term of endearment, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but deciding against it. After all, she needed his help, not the other way around.

Without another word, she marched back to the sedan and pulled the hood release. The latch clicked open as she lifted the heavy metal panel, stepping aside as Yunho approached.

The teasing vanished the moment he reached the engine. His entire demeanor changed. Every movement became deliberate, efficient, almost mechanical in its precision.

He leaned over the engine bay, brushing damp strands of platinum hair away from his face with the back of his wrist, before his grease-stained fingers began moving from one component to another. Hoses. Belts. Wiring. Coolant reservoir. Every inspection followed a pattern so fluid it was obvious he'd repeated it thousands of times before. He didn't waste a single motion. He didn't hesitate. He barely seemed aware of anything except the engine in front of him.

"So..." She cleared her throat. "Do you always treat customers like they're inconveniences?"

The only response was the soft metallic click of his wrench. Y/N huffed, shifting her weight.

"Or did I win some sort of special prize?"

Still nothing.

"Do you actually speak?" She snapped.

"Unfortunately." He replied, his voice flat as he was mostly invested in the engine in front of him.

After another minute, he straightened, grabbing a worn rag from his belt to wipe the grease from his hands.

"How long has it been making that noise?"

"What noise?" She frowned.

His eyes lifted to hers. "The one telling you your engine was begging for mercy?"

"I... It wasn't that bad."

He stared at her. Not dramatically. Not accusingly. Simply... stared.

"Did you ignore the check engine light?"

Silence.

"Maybe...?"

"You ignored it."

"It came on about two weeks ago."

For the first time all evening, an actual emotion crossed his face. He closed his eyes. Not in frustration. Not in anger. In disappointment. Pure, exhausted disappointment.

"I was busy, ok?" She defended.

"No." His voice remained perfectly calm. "You were irresponsible."

She folded her arms again. "Oh, and you're charming."

"I'm not paid to be charming."

"With customer service like this, I'm amazed people still come here."

Without looking at her, he nodded toward the illuminated sign hanging above the entrance.

"I do just fine."

She followed his gaze. He wasn't wrong.

Even now, nearly closing time, motorcycles and cars occupied almost every available space outside the workshop. Some looked freshly restored, their paint gleaming beneath the neon lights. Others had clearly been sitting there for weeks, waiting patiently for parts or attention. Inside, every tool hung in perfect alignment. Every drawer was labeled. Every workbench was spotless despite the grease and oil. Nothing was out of place. Nothing about him was careless.

A few more minutes passed before Yunho lowered the hood with a firm click. His expression hadn't changed.

"Well?"

"It's bad."

Her stomach tightened. "How bad?"

"Depends on what you consider bad."

She forced a smile. "Try me."

"You won't be driving it tonight. Nor tomorrow."

The rain suddenly sounded deafening. She laughed once, hoping he was joking.

"Very funny."

"I'm not joking."

The smile disappeared from her face.

He turned toward the garage as though the conversation was already over.

"The radiator's gone. The engine overheated and I won't know the full extent of the damage until I take it apart."

She hurried after him. "How long?"

He stopped without turning around. "Four days."

Her eyes widened. "Four days?"

"Maybe five."

"What am I supposed to do for five days?"

Another indifferent shrug. "Not ignore warning lights."

She stared at the back of his head in complete disbelief. "This can't be serious."

"It is."

"No, seriously, I need my car."

"So does everyone who brings one here."

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. "You can't just tell me that and walk away!"

This time, something finally cracked. Only slightly. A flicker of irritation darkened his expression as his eyes locked onto hers.

"What exactly do you expect me to do?" He asked, his voice sharper than before. "Magically repair parts I don't have?"

The question hit harder than she'd expected. There was no sarcasm. No arrogance. No attempt to belittle her. Only facts. Simple, inconvenient facts.

For the first time since arriving, she found herself without an argument.

Yunho walked past her. "Come back tomorrow afternoon. I'll know more after I open the engine."

She watched him reach the garage controls. "Wait."

He paused. "What?"

"I don't even know your name."

For a moment, he said nothing. The metal shutter groaned to life, slowly descending between them. He rested one hand on the control panel before finally speaking.

"Yunho." Another pause. "Jeong Yunho."

The shutter reached the ground with a heavy metallic thud. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N remained standing alone beneath the rain, soaked to the skin, stranded hours away from home and thoroughly irritated by the most impossible man she had ever met.

She should have been thinking about hotel rooms, repair bills and how she was going to explain all of this to her friends and family. Instead, all she could think about were a pair of cold, unreadable eyes... and the impossibly beautiful hands that had moved through the engine with the same effortless precision an artist reserved for a masterpiece.

By the time Y/N woke the next morning, she already knew the day was determined to test her patience.

The motel she'd settled for the night before had been the definition of good enough, if good enough meant peeling floral wallpaper that had probably survived three decades, a mattress that seemed designed to punish anyone foolish enough to sleep on it, coffee that somehow tasted both burnt and watered down and a shower that appeared to have a personal vendetta against hot water. She had spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, alternating between cursing her luck and mentally calculating how expensive the repairs were going to be.

Neither exercise had helped.

The morning hadn't improved much by the time she left the room. The motel was a 25 minute walk from Yunho's garage, which wouldn't have been so bad if only the roads hadn't been intentionally designed to confuse people who weren't from the area. Trudging along, the realisation that she was completely at the mercy of the most insufferable mechanic she'd ever met finally hit her.

Wonderful.

By the time she reached Yunho's garage, the overcast sky still threatened rain, leaving the pavement slick beneath her shoes. Before she even stepped inside, the familiar scent of motor oil drifted through the open garage doors, mixing with warm metal, coffee and the lingering smell of rain-soaked asphalt.

The place looked entirely different in daylight.

Larger.

Busier.

Alive.

Three vehicles occupied the service bays, each in a different stage of repair, while motorcycles lined one wall with almost military precision. Shelves packed with meticulously labeled boxes stretched nearly to the ceiling, every spare part arranged with almost obsessive care. Tool cabinets stood perfectly organized, each drawer closed, every wrench, socket and screwdriver resting exactly where it belonged.

There wasn't a speck of clutter anywhere.

The immaculate order only made yesterday's encounter with the owner even more irritating.

She hated admitting it, but the place reflected him perfectly : efficient, disciplined and frustratingly composed.

Classic rock played softly from the aging radio somewhere deeper inside the workshop, occasionally drowned out by the hiss of compressed air or the distant whir of power tools.

But Yunho was nowhere in sight.

"Hello?" She called, her voice carrying through the spacious garage.

No answer.

She took a few cautious steps farther inside, her gaze sweeping across the workshop.

"Excuse me?"

A sharp metallic clang echoed from somewhere beyond the nearest service bay. Then came his voice.

"Customers wait at the front."

Flat.

Calm.

Already mildly annoyed.

Y/N stopped in her tracks before following the sound. Only then did she notice the pair of worn work shoes sticking out from beneath her sedan, which was suspended several feet off the ground on a hydraulic lift. The rest of him remained hidden beneath the car, accompanied only by the steady rhythm of a ratchet turning somewhere above him.

A familiar wave of irritation immediately resurfaced.

"Good morning to you too."

The ratchet clicked again.

No response.

"You told me to come back today."

Still nothing.

She shifted her weight onto one hip and folded her arms across her chest.

"And technically..." She added, glancing toward the open garage door. "It's afternoon... somewhere."

The turning of the wrench stopped.

A moment later, Yunho slid out from beneath the car on a mechanic's creeper, pushing himself upright with practiced ease.

Grease stained his hands and traced dark smudges across his forearms, evidence that he'd likely been working for hours already. Gone was yesterday's striped polo, replaced by a fitted black tank top that revealed lean, well-defined muscles earned through years of lifting engines instead of weights. Loose gray sweatpants sat low on his hips, making him look unexpectedly... domestic.

It was an oddly unfair look on someone who seemed so determined to be difficult. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to stare too much... Or at least not make it so obvious.

His platinum-blond hair was even messier than it had been the previous evening, several strands falling stubbornly into his eyes as though he'd abandoned any attempt to tame it before sunrise.

Yet despite the change in clothes, one thing remained exactly the same. That perpetually unimpressed expression. As if the entire world had become a minor inconvenience before he'd even finished his first cup of coffee.

"You came early."

"You noticed."

Yunho didn't bother looking away from the engine. "I have eyes."

She let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her own in response. "You're impossible."

He shrugged, setting the ratchet aside and reaching for a clean rag, methodically wiping the grease from his fingers before finally turning toward her. "The engine's worse than I expected."

The lightness she'd been forcing into the conversation disappeared instantly, her stomach tightening.

"How much worse?"

For a moment, he seemed to weigh the answer, as though mentally sorting through a list of possibilities.

"The radiator's done."

"I knew that."

"The head gasket may have gone with it."

"Which means...?"

"More work."

"How much more?"

"It depends."

She threw both hands into the air. "Everything with you depends on something."

He folded the rag neatly before setting it beside the toolbox. "Because reality works that way."

She stared at him. "Has anyone ever told you that you make normal conversations feel unnecessarily complicated?"

"Frequently."

"And?"

"I've never found it to be my problem."

She resisted the overwhelming urge to throw the nearest socket wrench at him. Instead, she wandered closer to the lift, looking up at the exposed underside of her car.

"Fine, so... what happens now?"

"I ordered the parts this morning."

"When are they getting here?"

"Tomorrow."

"And after that?"

"I install them."

"That's your entire plan?"

A brief pause. "It usually works."

She couldn't help letting out a disbelieving laugh.

It was ridiculous. Everything about him was ridiculous. His answers were painfully short, almost irritatingly literal and he possessed a remarkable talent for making every conversation feel like she was pulling teeth.

And yet... There was something strangely reassuring about him. He never exaggerated. Never promised miracles. Never softened the truth just to make someone feel better.

When he spoke, there was an unwavering certainty behind every word, as though failure simply wasn't something he considered possible once a machine was in his hands.

Almost against her will, her eyes wandered around the workshop. The daylight revealed details she'd missed the evening before.

Framed photographs covered one section of the wall. Some showed vintage motorcycles lined up at race tracks. Others captured groups of riders standing shoulder to shoulder, helmets tucked beneath their arms, grinning at the camera.

One face appeared in nearly every photograph.

Yunho.

Younger in some. His platinum hair shorter in others. Always dressed in black. Always towering over everyone around him. And, almost without exception, looking as though he'd rather be literally anywhere else.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She doubted he'd willingly admit those pictures existed.

"Do you race?" She asked.

The effect was immediate. The rag stopped moving. The workshop seemed to fall strangely quiet. Even the music from the old radio faded into the background.

Yunho didn't answer right away. When he finally did, his voice was quieter than before.

"Not anymore."

Two words. Short. Final. An unmistakable end to the conversation.

Interesting.

Y/N leaned back against the workbench, folding her arms.

"So you really are a biker."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I own motorcycles."

"That's not what I asked."

"I wasn't aware this was an interview."

She smiled, refusing to let him escape so easily.

"And I wasn't aware mechanics were legally required to have terrible personalities."

His eyes lifted to meet hers. For the briefest fraction of a second, she thought she saw something soften. Not a smile. Not quite. Just the faintest flicker of amusement hiding behind the usual indifference. It disappeared before she could be certain it had ever been there.

The bell above the entrance jingled.

An older man stepped inside, removing his cap as he looked around.

"Morning, Yunho!"

Yunho gave a small nod. "Morning, Mr. Han."

"Bike still running alright?"

"Fixed it yesterday."

"I figured you had." The older man laughed warmly. "You're a lifesaver, kid."

Kid?

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. The man finally noticed her standing nearby.

"Oh!" He smiled politely. "New customer?"

Before she could answer, his expression shifted into one of knowing amusement.

"Careful with this one, miss." He jerked a thumb toward Yunho. "He looks grumpy enough to scare people away, but he's got a good heart."

Silence.

Yunho continued cleaning his tools as though the conversation had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Mr. Han chuckled. "He's been fixing everything in this town since he was barely an adult. Cars, motorcycles, tractors... Doesn't matter what breaks." He looked back at her. "Best mechanic for miles."

"So everyone keeps telling me." Y/N replied.

"They're right." The older man lowered his voice conspiratorially. "He only pretends to hate people."

Without lifting his head, Yunho spoke.

"I can hear you."

"Good." Mr. Han laughed. "Means your hearing still works."

He accepted the keys Yunho slid across the counter, thanked him once more and disappeared through the front door, the bell chiming softly behind him.

The garage settled into silence again.

Y/N turned toward Yunho.

"So."

He continued arranging his sockets by size.

"Does that mean you secretly have a heart?"

Without looking at her, he placed the final wrench into its slot.

"Your car will be ready when it's ready."

She sighed dramatically. "That wasn't the question."

He walked past her toward another workbench.

"Do you always ask this many questions?"

"Do you always avoid answering them?"

This time, he stopped. Slowly, he turned to face her. Their eyes met. There was something different in his expression now. Not annoyance. Not boredom. Something quieter. Something almost... challenging.

"Do you always come to mechanics just to annoy them?"

She smirked without hesitation. "Only the rude ones."

A heartbeat passed. Then, the tiniest twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth. Gone almost before it existed.

Y/N stared.

No.

She had definitely seen it.

Small. Practically microscopic. But real.

Her eyes widened in triumph.

"Wait." She pointed at him with exaggerated accusation. "You almost smiled."

Yunho calmly returned to organizing the tools on the shelf. "I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"No."

"You're denying physical evidence."

"The evidence is unreliable."

She folded her arms with an exaggerated huff.

"You're impossible."

"And yet..." He took a single step forward. It wasn't much. Barely enough to close the distance between them. Yet somehow it changed everything. His broad frame eclipsed the light above her, leaving her caught in the shadow of his taller body. She hadn't realized how close they'd been standing until there was suddenly nowhere else for her eyes to go except his. "You're still here."

His voice remained as calm as ever, low enough that it barely carried beyond the space between them.

Y/N tilted her chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing away. "So are you."

He frowned. "I work here."

"Convenient excuse."

One corner of his eyebrow lifted. "You expected me to leave my own garage?"

"I expected you to admit you don't mind my company."

A quiet scoff escaped him. "That's a generous interpretation."

She grinned. "You haven't told me to leave."

"I've considered it."

"But you didn't."

"No."

The word lingered between them. Neither of them moved. The garage had grown strangely quiet. Somewhere outside, rain tapped softly against the metal roof, while the old radio crackled through another classic rock song. It should have been ordinary. Instead, the air felt unexpectedly heavy.

Y/N became acutely aware of how close he was. Close enough to catch the clean scent of soap beneath the unmistakable traces of engine oil and metal. Close enough to notice the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, details she'd missed yesterday beneath the dim lights and rain. A stubborn strand of platinum hair had fallen over his forehead again and before she could stop herself, her gaze lingered there for a fraction too long.

"You stare a lot." His voice pulled her back instantly.

"I do not."

"You've been looking at me for the last ten seconds."

"I was observing."

"Is there a difference?"

"There is when the subject is particularly..." She looked him up and down. "Interesting."

For the first time, Yunho didn't answer immediately. His dark eyes searched hers, unreadable as always, yet somehow softer around the edges. Neither of them spoke. His gaze dropped briefly, just briefly, to her lips, before returning to her eyes. It happened so quickly she could almost convince herself she'd imagined it. Almost.

The silence stretched. Neither seemed willing to be the first to break it. Then, without warning, Yunho reached past her shoulder.

His arm brushed lightly against hers as he grabbed a wrench hanging from the pegboard behind her, the movement forcing them even closer for the briefest moment.

"You're in the way." He sighed.

Y/N looked over her shoulder at the now-empty hook before turning back to him with a knowing smirk.

"You could've just asked me to move."

"I did."

"When?"

"You're in the way."

She snorted, shaking her head and moving aside.

For the first time since she'd walked into the garage, Y/N realized she wasn't counting the minutes until she could leave. And judging by the fact that Yunho hadn't once told her to go home... Neither was he.

The following morning arrived with clear skies for the first time since she'd broken down.

Sunlight streamed through the motel curtains far earlier than Y/N would've liked, dragging her from sleep before her alarm had the chance. She stared at the ceiling for several seconds, mentally debating whether she should wait until the afternoon like Yunho had originally suggested the first evening they met.

She lasted exactly twenty minutes.

The excuse she settled on was perfectly reasonable. She was simply checking whether the parts had arrived. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to see a certain mechanic again. Absolutely nothing.

She reached his garage just as a delivery truck was backing into the loading area behind the workshop.

The driver jumped down first, followed by Yunho, who was already signing paperwork without wasting a second on unnecessary conversation.

Unlike yesterday, he wore faded blue jeans and another black tank top, a pair of worn work gloves tucked into the back pocket. Morning sunlight caught the pale strands of his hair, making them almost silver against the darker interior of the garage.

She shouldn't have noticed. She did anyway.

The driver laughed while handing over another clipboard. "You're the only mechanic I know who gets excited over radiator hoses."

"They're the correct ones."

"See? Exactly my point."

Yunho ignored him.

Within minutes, cardboard boxes were stacked neatly beside the service bay.

He crouched beside them, slicing through the packing tape with a utility knife in one smooth motion before inspecting every component one by one.

Radiator.

Gaskets.

Coolant lines.

Bolts.

Every item was examined with almost obsessive attention before he finally nodded to himself. Only then did he notice her standing nearby.

He sighed. "You came back."

Y/N folded her arms. "You sound surprised."

"I am."

"You told me the parts were arriving today."

"I didn't expect an audience."

"I'm making sure you don't replace my engine with cardboard."

He regarded her for a long second. "Reasonable."

She blinked. "Was that a joke?"

"No."

"It almost sounded like one."

"It wasn't."

"Liar."

"I don't lie."

"You've smiled once and joked once."

"I've done neither."

She shook her head, visibly amused. "You really commit to the bit."

He picked up the new radiator and walked toward the lift. "It's called consistency."

She followed him. "I thought it was emotional constipation."

He stopped walking and slowly turned his head.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

"I wish I hadn't."

She smiled sweetly. "I know."

Yunho stared at her for another second before shaking his head almost imperceptibly and continuing toward the car. "You enjoy provoking people."

"I enjoy provoking you."

"I noticed."

"You keep responding."

"I keep hoping you'll get bored."

"Oh." She clasped her hands dramatically. "So you do pay attention."

His only response was a nearly inaudible sigh. It sounded suspiciously fond.

Later that day, the garage settled into its familiar rhythm.

Power tools whirred.

Compressed air hissed.

Classic rock drifted lazily from the old radio while Yunho disappeared beneath the hood of the sedan once again.

Y/N perched on a nearby stool, watching despite herself. She'd never seen anyone work the way he did. There was no hesitation, no wasted movement. Every tool was picked up without searching. Every bolt loosened in exactly the right order. Even something as simple as setting a wrench back onto the workbench looked practiced enough to become muscle memory.

It was... Oddly attractive.

She hated that.

"You know..." She said after several minutes, grinning smugly. "Most people charge extra if someone's going to stare at them while they work."

"I was wondering how long it would take."

She frowned. "For what?"

"For you to start talking."

"I've been quiet for almost ten minutes."

"A personal record."

She rolled her eyes. "You timed me?"

"I didn't have to."

She climbed off the stool. "I could leave."

"You could."

"But?"

"I didn't say there was a 'but.'"

"You implied one."

"I did no such thing."

"You wanted me to."

He looked at her then. Really looked at her.

"You assume a lot."

"You don't deny much."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

The sunlight filtering through the open garage doors illuminated tiny flecks of dust drifting lazily through the air.

Somewhere outside, a motorcycle rumbled past. Inside, everything felt strangely still.

Yunho reached for a socket wrench without taking his eyes off her. "You've got grease."

"Hm?"

He nodded toward her cheek. "Right there."

Instinctively, she rubbed the spot.

"The other side."

She frowned and tried again. "This one?"

"No."

She sighed dramatically. "You're terrible at giving directions."

"So I've been told."

"Well?"

"Still there."

She huffed. "Fine." She looked around for something reflective. "Where's a mirror?"

"There isn't one."

"Helpful."

Without another word, Yunho stepped closer. Close enough that she could hear the quiet rustle of his shirt as he moved. Close enough for the familiar scent of soap and engine oil to settle around her again.

She stopped breathing for half a second.

"You missed." His voice was quieter now.

Before she could answer, he lifted one hand. Slowly. Giving her every opportunity to pull away. His thumb brushed lightly across her cheekbone, wiping away the dark streak of grease with surprising gentleness.

The touch lasted barely two seconds. It felt much longer.

"There." He stepped back immediately. "Better."

Y/N remained perfectly still. "Thanks."

"You looked ridiculous."

"I was wondering how long it'd take before you ruined the moment."

"I improved it."

She laughed despite herself. "You absolutely did not."

"I removed the grease."

"You added an insult."

"They're complimentary."

She shook her head. "I genuinely don't understand how anyone puts up with you."

"They usually don't."

"But I do?"

The question escaped before she could stop it.

Silence followed. Something unreadable flickered across Yunho's face. Small. Almost invisible. Yet somehow more revealing than any smile.

His gaze lingered on her for just a heartbeat too long, before he cleared his throat and looked back at the engine. "I should finish this."

His voice sounded just slightly rougher than before.

Y/N swallowed. "Yeah... Probably."

Neither of them moved immediately.

Outside, the wind stirred the leaves lining the street. Inside, the distance between them suddenly felt much smaller than it had any right to. Neither of them acknowledged it. But for the first time, it wasn't only the engine running hot.

The next day disappeared almost without either of them noticing. Somewhere between replacing the damaged radiator and checking the cooling system for leaks, time simply slipped away.

The garage remained comfortably noisy. Wrenches clicked against metal. Compressed air hissed every now and then. The old radio drifted lazily from one classic rock song into another.

Y/N had long since abandoned any pretense of being there purely for updates. She sat cross-legged on an overturned crate near the lift, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone without actually reading anything. Every few minutes her attention wandered back to Yunho instead.

Not intentionally. It just... happened.

He had changed into another shirt somewhere during the afternoon, although "changed" wasn't entirely accurate. The black tank top remained, but now a faded charcoal work shirt hung open over it, the sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows.

She'd noticed. Unfortunately.

The fabric shifted every time he reached for another tool, exposing the lean muscles in his forearms as they flexed beneath skin marked by tiny scars earned through years of stubborn engines refusing to cooperate. But it was his hands that made it hard to look away. Heavy, pronounced veins roped across the backs of them, trailing down to his knuckles and pulsing with every movement. His fingers were distractingly long, rough and oil-smudged, wrapping around the cold tools with a slow, deliberate possession. There was something unfairly captivating about the raw, effortless strength in his grip, the way those thick veins shifted under his skin every time those long digits handled the heavy steel.

Her mouth went suddenly dry as her thoughts drifted into dangerous territory. She didn’t even realize she was openly staring until his eyes snapped up, catching her dead in the act.

"You've inspected me more than the car."

She looked up without missing a beat. "The car doesn't move."

"It also doesn't stare."

"I wasn't staring."

"You've said that before."

She smiled innocently. "And you've been wrong before."

"I haven't."

"You have."

"When?"

"When you assumed I'd get bored."

His wrench paused for barely a heartbeat. "Fair."

Her eyebrows shot upward. "You admitted I was right."

"I admitted nothing."

"You literally–"

"I said 'fair.'"

"That's practically an apology."

"It absolutely isn't."

She snorted. He didn't.

By early evening, thick gray clouds had begun swallowing the remaining daylight.

Y/N wandered toward the open garage door, folding her arms against the cool breeze. "I think it's going to rain again."

Yunho didn't look up from tightening the final bolt. "It is."

"You checked the weather?"

"I looked outside."

She sighed. "Of course."

A low rumble echoed across the sky. Seconds later, rain began falling. Not gently. The heavens simply... Opened.

Within moments the street disappeared beneath shimmering sheets of water, the downpour loud enough to drown out the music entirely.

Y/N stared. "Well."

"Hm?"

"There goes my walk."

"Hm."

"I don't think I can walk back to the motel like this."

"You probably can."

She turned toward him. "You call this weather?"

"I call it Thursday."

She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"So you keep saying."

A jagged flash of lightning threw the workshop into sharp, sudden relief, followed by the deafening roar of rain pounding against the metal roof. She pulled her phone from her pocket, her screen confirming the worst. Absolutely no public transportation was running.

​She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh.

"Fantastic."

​The silence that followed was thick. She braced herself, fully expecting a biting, sarcastic remark or for him to simply turn his back and ignore her existence entirely.

​But the biting remark never came. She looked up to find him watching her. He had stopped working, a heavy wrench resting loosely in that grease-smudged grip. His dark eyes locked onto hers, narrowing slightly as he weighed his options. A muscle feathered in his jaw, betraying a silent, frustrating argument with himself. Finally, he dropped the tool onto the workbench and let out a rough, chest-deep sigh of absolute defeat.

​"Fine." He muttered, his voice a low rumble barely carrying over the storm. "I'll take you."

She blinked. "What?"

"I said I'll take you."

She frowned. "How–"

His gaze shifted toward the center of the garage. Toward the matte-black motorcycle.

Oh.

Right.

​"Absolutely not." She blurted out, her voice pitching slightly higher than she intended. She took a quick step back, shaking her head. "Nope. There is zero chance I am getting on that death trap with you."

​He slowly turned his head back to her, an irritatingly calm expression settling over his features. "It’s a motorcycle, not a bomb."

​"It's a two-wheeled hazard and we are in the middle of a torrential downpour!" She argued, gesturing wildly toward the open bay doors where the storm was raging. "I am not riding that thing. I would rather walk the twenty-five minutes in the mud."

He didn't blink. He didn't argue. He just slowly raised a hand and gestured toward the open garage doors. "Be my guest."

​She stared at him, her jaw dropping slightly. He was actually going to let her walk. She spun on her heel stubbornly, marching toward the exit with every ounce of dignity she could muster. She made it exactly three steps before a deafening crack of thunder shook the concrete floor, followed immediately by a violent gust of wind that threw a sheet of freezing rain right into her face.

​She froze, the cold water instantly soaking the front of her shirt.

​Behind her, she heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of his shoes. He stopped right beside her, the heat radiating off his body a stark contrast to the freezing wind. Without a word, he shoved a heavy, matte-black helmet into her chest.

​She instinctively wrapped her arms around it, glaring up at him as water dripped from her eyelashes.

​"You're not walking in that and we both know it." He said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that cut straight through the noise of the storm. He reached past her, grabbing a heavy leather jacket off a hook and tossing it over her shivering shoulders. "Put the jacket on. Fasten the helmet. And if you want to live, you hold onto me and you don't let go. Understood?"

She swallowed hard, her previous bravado washing away completely with the freezing rain.

"Fine..." She muttered, the word barely audible over the howling wind.

She shoved her trembling arms into the sleeves of the leather jacket. It was absurdly large on her, the heavy material swallowing her frame and falling past her hips, but it was incredibly warm. The collar carried his scent, a heady, intoxicating mix of dark leather, motor oil and a faint, sharp note of cedar.

She pulled the helmet over her head, the thick padding instantly muffling the deafening roar of the storm. Her fingers, already stiff from the sudden blast of cold, fumbled clumsily with the strap under her jaw, failing to get the clasp to lock.

With a short, impatient exhale, he stepped closer, brushing her hands away. "Let me."

Even through the chill creeping over her skin, the drag of his rough knuckles against her throat sent a sudden, traitorous spike of heat straight into her chest. His long, calloused fingers worked the strap with effortless precision, grazing her jawline before he pulled away.

He didn't wait for her to recover her breath. Turning his back, he swung a long leg over the motorcycle and settled into the driver's seat. The heavy machine dipped under his weight, the suspension groaning slightly. He gripped the handlebars and instantly, the lean muscles in his forearms flexed. She watched those thick, heavy veins ridge against his skin all over again, highlighted perfectly by the harsh garage lights.

He kicked up the stand and looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes fixed on her through the open visor of his helmet. "Get on."

She took a steadying breath, stepping up to the bike and awkwardly swinging her leg over the back. The seat wasn't just small, it was angled in a way that practically guaranteed zero personal space. The moment her weight settled, gravity slid her forward until she bumped into a solid wall of muscle.

"Arms." He ordered, his voice vibrating deeply.

Hesitantly, she reached around his sides, pressing her palms flat against his stomach. He was rock-solid beneath his shirt, radiating a furnace-like heat that seeped straight through the oversized leather jacket she wore.

"I said hold on, not hover." He grunted.

Before she could adjust, he reached down, his large hands covering both of hers. He gripped her wrists tightly, forcefully pulling her arms all the way around his waist and locking them there. The movement dragged her forcefully forward, flattening her chest flush against his broad back. Her thighs aligned perfectly with the outside of his, eliminating every single fraction of an inch of space between them.

He released her hands, his long, oil-smudged fingers lingering on her wrists for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"Don't let go."

With a sharp twist of his wrist, the motorcycle roared to life. The engine released a deafening, guttural growl that vibrated through the metal frame and straight into her bones. He shifted gears, the heavy boot of his left foot clicking into place and then they were shooting out into the torrential, blinding darkness, leaving her absolutely no choice but to cling to his heat exactly as she had been told.

Y/N had expected the ride to be terrifying.

Instead, it felt strangely peaceful. Every time they rounded a corner she instinctively held him a little tighter. And every time she did so, he noticed. He never commented. Not once.

The motel appeared far sooner than she wanted it to. Yunho parked beneath the small overhang outside reception, before switching off the engine.

The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the heavy, relentless drum of rain against the plastic corrugated roof of the overhang. Without the guttural vibration of the engine beneath them, the world felt entirely too still.

In that quiet, Y/N became hyper-aware of everything: the steady, even rise and fall of his chest beneath her arms, the furnace-like heat radiating from his back and the undeniable fact that her hands were still firmly locked together over his stomach. She was clinging to him like a lifeline.

Slowly, reluctantly, she unclasped her hands.

Pulling her arms back felt like stepping into a freezer. The chill of the night air instantly bit at her damp clothes the moment she lost the protective shield of his body. She swung her leg over the back of the bike, her shoes hitting the wet concrete with a soft thud. Her legs felt completely unstable, whether from the vibrations of the ride, the freezing temperature or the adrenaline still humming through her veins, she wasn't entirely sure.

Yunho kicked the heavy metal kickstand down with his heel and shifted his weight, turning slightly in the seat to look at her.

She reached up to unfasten the helmet. This time, her numb, trembling fingers managed to pop the latch. She pulled it off, shaking out her flattened, damp hair and held the heavy matte-black helmet out to him.

He took it from her hands, his long fingers brushing against hers and set it effortlessly on the fuel tank. His dark, assessing gaze swept over her. She knew she had to look like a disaster, shivering, soaked and entirely swallowed up by a leather jacket that was at least three sizes too big for her, but his expression remained completely unreadable.

"Uhm... Thanks." She said, her voice sounding a little too breathy. She reached for the heavy zipper of his jacket, preparing to take it off. "For the ride. I really appreciate–"

Before she could tug the zipper down, his hand moved. His long, calloused fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist, stopping her mid-motion. The heat of his grip seeped instantly through the thick leather sleeve, halting her breath in her throat.

"Keep it." He said. His voice was low, a quiet rumble that barely competed with the rain.

Y/N blinked, looking from his large hand gripping her wrist up to his dark eyes. "What? No, it's freezing out here, you need–"

"I'll be fine." His thumb brushed absentmindedly over the seam of her sleeve, before he dropped his hand, letting her go. The ghost of his grip still burned where he had held her. He shifted his weight back toward the front of the bike, grabbing the handlebars. As his fingers locked around the grips, the lean muscles in his forearms flexed and those heavy, prominent veins ridged against the backs of his hands under the dim motel lights. "Take it inside. You can give it back to me tomorrow when you come to get your car."

She swallowed hard, pulling the collar of the jacket just a fraction tighter around her neck, trapping his scent against her skin.

"Ok." She murmured softly. "Thank you, Yunho."

He didn't smile, but the hard, defensive set of his shoulders seemed to ease just a fraction. He gave her a single, curt nod, flipping the ignition switch back on.

"Go inside." He grunted, the engine roaring back to life with a deafening growl beneath him. He kicked it into gear, looking straight ahead into the blinding rain. "Before you catch pneumonia and find another reason to complain."

She smiled, the first genuine, unforced smile she'd worn all day, despite the biting wind. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He didn't look back, but as the heavy motorcycle shot forward, tearing out from under the motel overhang and slicing back into the torrential downpour, she could have sworn the massive engine revved just a fraction louder than necessary.

She stood there for a long moment, watching him drive off. She tracked the red glow of his taillight as it blurred through the sheets of rain, waiting until it vanished completely into the pitch-black streets. The storm raged on, throwing cold mist over the sidewalk, but wrapped inside his oversized jacket, she couldn't feel the chill at all.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she hugged the heavy leather closer to her body. She buried her cold nose into the thick collar, breathing in that dark, heavy scent of cedar, rain and motor oil one last time, before finally turning toward the flickering neon sign of the motel lobby.

The storm from the night before had completely washed away, leaving the morning air crisp and the sky an obnoxiously bright blue. Walking back into Yunho’s garage, his heavy leather jacket neatly folded over her arm, Y/N felt an unfamiliar, nervous flutter of anticipation in her chest.

But the moment she stepped through the open bay doors, the temperature seemed to drop.

Yunho was already at work, leaning deep under the popped hood of her car. The rhythmic click-click-click of a socket wrench echoed sharply in the cavernous space.

"Morning." She called out, stepping into the dim light of the shop.

He didn't look up. "Morning."

The word was clipped, rough and entirely devoid of the quiet heat that had existed between them just hours ago.

She hesitated, her fingers digging instinctively into the soft, worn leather of his jacket. "Is it... is it almost done?"

He finally straightened up, pulling a filthy shop rag from his back pocket to wipe down his hands. Those hands, the same ones that had forcefully locked her arms around his waist last night, were completely rigid. The thick, prominent veins ridged sharply against his knuckles, heavy and pulsing with a suppressed, restless energy. But his dark eyes were shuttered, completely unreadable as they briefly flicked to her, before instantly looking away.

"Almost." He muttered, tossing the rag onto a nearby tool chest. He didn't acknowledge the jacket in her arms. He didn't really look at her at all. "It'll be ready by late afternoon."

Late afternoon.

The words landed between them with the crushing weight of an anvil.

Ready meant finished. Finished meant the engine would turn over, the tires would hit the asphalt and she would drive away. Having her car back meant she had absolutely no logical reason to stay in this town or in his garage for another minute.

The realization seemed to crash over them both at the exact same second. The charged, magnetic pull from last night was still there, humming beneath the surface, but it was suddenly suffocated by the glaring reality of her impending departure.

Yunho’s jaw tightened until the bone showed white. A muscle feathered visibly in his cheek before he deliberately turned his back to her, reaching for another tool with stiff, aggressive movements.

"You can wait at the motel if you want." He grunted, his broad shoulders tensing defensively beneath his dark t-shirt. The lean muscles in his forearms flexed hard as his long, grease-stained fingers locked around a heavy steel wrench. "It's gonna be a few hours. Keep clear of the bay, I need to focus."

He was shutting her out.

The shift was so sudden, so deliberate, that it felt like a physical blow. He wasn't just working, he was retreating. He was wrapping himself back in that abrasive, unapproachable armor he’d worn the day they met, forcefully carving out space between them so he wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable moment she left.

Y/N stood there for a long moment, the ghost of his scent rising from the jacket pressed against her stomach.

"Wait at the motel?" She frowned. "Why can't I wait here, as usual?"

He stopped moving. The wrench in his hand hovered just above the engine block, suspended by sheer, rigid tension, before he slowly lowered it.

"Because there's no point." He said, his back still to her. His voice was low, harsh and tight. "You're out of here in a few hours. Go pack your things."

"I'm already packed." She shot back, her voice shaking slightly with rising indignation. Instead of retreating, she stepped further into the garage, closing the distance between them. "I've sat on that same crappy metal stool for days, Yunho. Why is it suddenly a problem now?"

"Because it just is!" He snapped, finally spinning around to face her.

The sudden violence in his movement made her flinch, but she held her ground. He threw the heavy wrench onto the nearest metal workbench. The deafening clang echoed sharply off the concrete walls, ringing in the sudden silence.

"I need you out of my workspace." He ground out, stalking toward her with heavy, predatory strides. All the careful distance he had tried to keep evaporated in a matter of seconds. "I need to finish this damn car so you can get on the highway and go back to your life. That’s what you wanted, isn't it? To get the hell out of here?"

"Stop trying to push me away!" She yelled. Frustration bubbled over, hot and blinding. She dropped his heavy leather jacket onto a nearby chair and stepped squarely into his space, refusing to be intimidated by his size or his temper. "You're acting like yesterday didn't happen! Like last night meant absolutely nothing to you!"

"Like it meant nothing?" He repeated, his voice dropping into a lethal, vibrating growl. He leaned down, crowding her, his face mere inches from hers. His dark eyes were completely entirely unshielded now, blazing with a chaotic mix of fury, exhaustion and something utterly desperate. "Do you have any idea how much it takes for me to keep my hands off you right now? I am literally putting the engine back together that is going to take you away from me, Y/N."

"Then why are you the one shoving me out the door?" She demanded, her voice rising to match his intensity. She didn't back down an inch, even with his towering frame caging her in. "You're the one telling me to go to the motel! You're the one acting like I'm just some annoying distraction you can't wait to be rid of!"

"Because you are leaving!" He roared, the sound tearing out of his chest, echoing violently against the concrete walls. He threw his hands up, those long, grease-stained fingers gesturing wildly toward the open bay doors. "You have a life in a city three hundred miles from here, Y/N! A job. A schedule. You don't belong in a run-down garage in a town you couldn't even stand a few days ago!"

"Don't you dare tell me what I want or where I belong!" She fired back. Frustration made her reckless. She closed the last fraction of an inch between them, her chest brushing against the solid, immovable wall of his as she tilted her chin up defiantly. "You don't get to decide that for me. And you don't get to use my car as an excuse to play the martyr just because you're terrified of actually letting someone in!"

Yunho flinched as if she had struck him. His breath hitched, his chest heaving violently against hers. He stared down at her, his jaw locked so tight she thought the bone might shatter. His heavy, vein-ridged hands flexed at his sides, curling into tight, white-knuckled fists as if he was physically warring with his own instincts.

"I'm not playing the martyr." He rasped, his voice dropping an octave, turning rough and deadly quiet. "I am being realistic. Tomorrow morning, you're going to wake up, realize this was just some adrenaline-fueled mistake and drive away. I'm just saving us both the collateral damage."

"You're a coward." She breathed, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

His eyes darkened instantly, a dangerous, possessive heat flashing in his irises. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs, but she held his furious gaze, her voice dropping to an unsteady, challenging whisper. "You fix broken things all day long, but the second something gets complicated, you push it away. If you really want me gone so badly, Yunho... then tell me to leave right now. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me here."

Silence slammed down around them, thick and electric. Yunho stared at her, the air between them practically vibrating with unspoken words. The muscle in his jaw feathered wildly. He looked at her defiant eyes, down to her parted lips and back up again. The rigid control he had been clinging to all morning was visibly fracturing, cracking right down the middle under the weight of her challenge.

"Tell me to leave!" She pushed, her voice breaking slightly, eyes welling with unshed tears.

He said nothing.

The silence stretched between them, agonizing and absolute. Yunho just stood there, his jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped frantically beneath his skin. His broad chest rose and fell with harsh, shallow breaths, his dark eyes stormy and completely torn, but his lips remained stubbornly, agonizingly sealed.

He couldn't say the words. But he wouldn't ask her to stay, either.

The silence was an answer in itself.

A hot, humiliating tear spilled over her lashes, tracing a searing path down her cheek. The fiery indignation that had fueled her just seconds ago completely evaporated, leaving behind a hollow, aching chill that settled deep in her chest.

"Right." She whispered, her voice barely a thread. She let out a shaky, broken breath and nodded once. "Message received."

She broke his gaze, spinning on her heel. The heavy rubber of her boots scraped against the concrete as she turned her back on him, wrapping her arms around her own stomach. She closed her eyes, blinking away the stinging wetness and started walking toward the door. She was done fighting for a man who refused to fight for himself.

She made it exactly three steps.

She didn't hear his boots move. She didn't hear him cross the space between them. He was just suddenly there.

A large, rough hand clamped around her wrist. The grip was startlingly firm, the calloused pads of his fingers biting into her skin, heavy and undeniably possessive. Before she could even gasp, Yunho yanked her backward, spinning her around with a sheer, desperate force that threw her completely off balance.

She collided squarely with the solid wall of his chest and before she could even look up, his hands were in her hair, tilting her head back as his mouth crashed violently down onto hers.

It was an explosion. There was absolutely nothing gentle, nothing restrained about it. It was a punishing, desperate collision of lips and teeth, built on days of unbearable tension and the terrifying reality that he had almost let her walk out that door. The impact knocked the breath straight out of her lungs and he took immediate, ruthless advantage, parting her lips and kissing her with a raw, demanding heat that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to her core.

Y/N gasped against his mouth, her hands flying up instinctively. Her fingers grabbed fistfuls of his dark, grease-smudged t-shirt to keep her knees from buckling.

Yunho kissed her like he was starving. His hands were everywhere, frantic and heavy. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his thick, vein-ridged fingers tangling deep into her hair to hold her exactly where he wanted her. The other hand dropped to her waist, his long fingers gripping her hip hard enough to bruise as he backed her forcefully against the nearest metal pillar.

He pressed his massive frame flush against hers, crushing her between the cold steel and the furnace of his body, effectively sealing off any chance of escape. He tasted like dark coffee, mint and pure, unfiltered desperation, completely obliterating her tears and proving exactly what his stubborn silence couldn't say.

For a split second, shock held her completely frozen. But the sheer, overwhelming force of his kiss, the desperate, undeniable way his mouth moved against hers, shattered whatever was left of her resolve.

She kissed him back.

The moment she yielded, sliding her hands up from his chest to wrap tightly around his neck, Yunho completely lost his mind. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, vibrating intensely against her lips. His arm tightened like a vice around her waist, lifting her up onto her toes until she was molded entirely against him, erasing every single fraction of an inch he had spent the whole morning trying to build.

His hands were relentless. The thick, calloused fingers that had been so precise and controlled with his tools just moments ago were now frantic. They mapped the curve of her spine, pulling her closer, as if he physically couldn't get enough of her. She tangled her fingers into the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper, matching his chaotic desperation beat for beat.

With a violent, sweeping motion of his free hand, Yunho cleared the nearest heavy metal workbench. Wrenches, bolts and a metal tray went crashing to the concrete floor in a deafening clatter, but neither of them flinched. The noise was instantly swallowed by the heavy, ragged sound of their breathing as he lifted her effortlessly, setting her down onto the cold steel edge.

He stepped right between her thighs, crowding her, his massive frame caging her against the bench. The cold metal at her back was a shocking contrast to the furnace of his body pressing flush against hers.

His hands, those rough, impossibly capable hands that had been the focal point of her distraction all week, were frantic now, gripping the hem of her shirt. He pulled it over her head and tossed it blindly into the shadows of the garage. The cool air hit her skin for only a fraction of a second before his mouth replaced the chill, tracing a searing, open-mouthed path down her jaw, her neck and over her collarbone.

Y/N gasped, her hands completely abandoning his hair to grip his broad shoulders, her nails digging into the heavy, lean muscles flexing under his dark t-shirt. "Yunho..."

"I'm not letting you go." He rasped against her skin, his voice a dark, vibrating rumble that sent a tremor straight down her spine. "Not today. Not tomorrow."

A soft cry escaped her mouth as he wrapped his lips around one of her hardened nipples, suckling gently. Her hands moved to the back of his neck, tugging gently at the hair of his nape as she arched into his touch.

He groaned softly, pulling back just long enough to grip the hem of his own shirt, tearing it over his head and throwing it to the floor. The sight of his bare chest, sculpted by years of raw, physical labor, marked by faint scars and a light sheen of sweat, completely stole the breath from her lungs. His chest was heaving, his dark eyes entirely unshielded and blazing with a chaotic mix of possessiveness and absolute surrender. The abrasive, walled-off mechanic was gone, replaced by a man completely undone by his own need.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull of him, she slowly reached out. Her trembling fingers brushed against the furnace of his skin, trailing upward over the hard, rigid muscles of his stomach to the broad expanse of his chest. She mapped the faint scars with a feather-light touch, mesmerized by the sheer, radiating heat of him.

When her palm finally flattened directly over his heart, she could feel the violent, erratic hammering of his pulse echoing against her hand. A harsh, ragged shudder ripped through his massive frame the second her fingertips lightly traced the sweat-slicked skin over his collarbone. His eyes darkened impossibly further, the last remaining thread of his control splintering completely under her touch.

He reached for the button of her jeans, his thick, calloused fingers working with a desperate efficiency. He popped the metal closure, dragging the heavy denim and lace down her legs until they pooled completely on the concrete floor.

​He didn't pull her flush against his chest this time. Instead, Yunho’s hands, rough, large and unbearably hot, slid up the backs of her thighs. He gripped her firmly, dragging her right to the edge of the cold steel workbench, making her gasp. He pushed her legs wider apart, settling himself firmly between her knees, his gaze burning into hers with a predatory intensity.

​"Yunho..."

​He didn't give her a chance to finish the thought, lowering his head. The moment his warm, wet tongue first made contact with her swollen center, Y/N let out a sharp, strangled cry, her fingers digging painfully into his shoulders.

He didn't hesitate, burying his face against her drenched folds, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal before his tongue began its relentless assault. He lapped at her with long, slow strokes, savoring the sweet, musky taste of her nectar. Every flick of his tongue was deliberate, teasing the most sensitive parts of her anatomy until Y/N felt like she was coming undone.

"Oh, god... Yunho..." She gasped, her head tossing back as her spine arched sharply. Her hands flew from his shoulders to his hair, her fingers tangling in those platinum strands, not to push him away, but to pull him even deeper against her.

A deep, guttural groan vibrated from Yunho’s chest, muffled against her damp skin. "Fuck." He rasped, his breath hot and ragged against her inner thigh. "You taste so fucking good... so sweet, so perfect."

The praise only served to ignite the fire already raging inside her. She let out a broken moan, her hips bucking instinctively against his face, seeking more of that devastating sensation.

He growled, sealing his lips around her clit, suckling gently, causing her eyes to roll in the back of her head.

Reluctantly, almost painfully, Yunho pulled his face away from her soaking wet core. A thin, glistening thread of saliva connected them for a fleeting second, before he broke free. He looked down at her, his eyes hooded and dark with a feral kind of hunger, his jaw tight as he fought to catch his breath.

Y/N let out a frustrated, needy whine, her legs trembling uncontrollably from the sudden absence of his touch. She reached down, her fingers shaking as she fumbled with the waistband of his jeans, needing to feel him, needing to bridge the agonizing gap between them.

With a desperate tug, she managed to slide his denim down his powerful thighs, releasing his cock from its confinement. As it sprang free, it pulsed with a life of its own, heavy and imposing. She gasped softly, her eyes widening as she took in the sheer size of him. It was thick, impressively long and mapped with prominent, throbbing veins that spoke of the blood rushing through him in his state of extreme arousal.

Y/N's breath came in shallow, uneven pants as she stared, mesmerized by the sight of him. He was beautiful in a raw, intimidating way, a testament to the hunger he held for her.

"Mmm, so big and and hard for me." She purred, wrapping one hand around him, stroking lazily.

The sound of her voice, that honeyed, possessive purr, seemed to strike a chord deep within him. Yunho let out a choked sound, halfway between a growl and a gasp, as her small, delicate hand closed around his length. Even her lazy, languid strokes felt electric, sending waves of white-hot pleasure straight to his brain.

He groaned, his head falling back for a moment as he braced his hands on the metal workbench behind her, his knuckles turning white. He watched her through heavy lids, his pupils blown wide, watching the way her fingers curled around him, the contrast of her pale skin against his flushed, tensed muscle.

She bit her lip as she locked eyes with him through her dark lashes. Her gaze was heavy, hooded with her own mounting lust. Slowly, deliberately, she dragged her thumb across the weeping, sensitive tip of his cock, catching the bead of pre-cum and smearing it over the smooth skin.

Yunho’s entire body jerked at the touch, a harsh, broken sound tearing from his throat. Seeing her look at him like that, so hungry yet so composed, was driving him to the brink of madness. He reached down, his large hand covering hers, pressing her palm tighter against his pulsing shaft, guiding her stroke with a desperate urgency.

"Don't stop." He rasped, his voice a gravelly wreck. "Fuck, please don't stop."

Y/N smirked, a flash of dominance crossing her features as she increased the pace, her thumb continuing to swirl around his crown, collecting more of his slickness.

The sound of his breathy voice sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between her thighs. She loved the way he crumbled under her touch, the way this powerful, commanding man was reduced to begging by her fingertips. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as she brought her face close to his, her breath hitching.

"Do you want it, Yunho?" She whispered, her voice a silken trap. "Do you want me to take all of this?"

Before he could answer, she shifted her grip, her fingers tightening around the base of his cock as she guided the broad, blunt head toward her entrance. She was already slick, her own juices coating her folds, making the transition seamless.

Instead of taking him inside, Y/N slowed her movements, choosing instead to tease him with maddening precision. She pressed the broad, weeping head of his cock directly against her swollen slit, dragging it slowly upward. The friction of his velvety skin against her hypersensitive folds made her whole body tremble, a low, needy whimper escaping her lips.

She didn't stop there. With a wicked little smile, she tilted her hips, grinding the pulsating tip directly over her clit. She rubbed him against that tiny, engorged nub, circling him in slow, torturous motions that left him gasping for air.

The teasing was too much. The sight of her rubbing his aching length against her dripping heat, mocking his need, snapped something inside him. A low, dangerous growl ripped from his chest, a sound of pure, unbridled possession.

In one swift, fluid motion, his hand shot up, his long, veiny fingers curling around the delicate column of her throat. He didn't squeeze to hurt, but the pressure was firm, authoritative, pinning her head back against the workbench and forcing her to meet his blazing, predatory stare.

"Enough playing, princess." He rasped, his voice vibrating with a terrifying level of lust.

The sudden weight of his hand around her neck sent a shockwave of pure electricity through Y/N's spine. It wasn't fear that raced through her, but a wild, dizzying rush of submission. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glazed with arousal, chest heaving as she struggled to draw air around his firm grip.

Yunho didn't give her a moment to adjust. He used his other hand to grab her thigh, hiking it high over his shoulder to expose her completely to him.

With her leg hooked over his shoulder, Y/N was completely vulnerable, her soaked folds bared to the cool air of the workshop and his burning gaze. The position forced her hips forward, presenting herself to him like an offering.

Yunho gripped the base of his cock, the veins standing out in stark relief against his skin and lined the weeping head up with her entrance. He paused for a heartbeat, staring down at where they met, enjoying the way her small, tight opening twitched in anticipation of him.

"Look at me." He commanded, his thumb pressing slightly harder against the side of her neck, a reminder of who was in control.

Y/N obeyed instantly, her eyes locking onto his, dilated and swimming with a mixture of reverence and raw, animalistic need. She saw the absolute claim in his expression, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered and the only thing he wanted to break.

Slowly, with agonizing deliberation, Yunho began to push. He sank into her, the broad head of his cock stretching her tight, slick walls as he breached her. Y/N let out a loud, broken sob, her fingers clawing at the metal workbench behind her as she felt herself being filled, stretched and claimed.

"Mmph... Yunho."

As he buried himself deep within her, bottoming out with a dull, satisfying thud against her cervix, Yunho didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath ghosting over her lips as he watched her expression shatter under the pleasure.

"That's it, baby... take it all." He murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the roughness of his earlier command. His hand on her neck softened, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with unexpected tenderness. "You're doing so well for me. So fucking perfect. Look how tight you are around me... you were made for this."

The praise acted like fuel to the fire already consuming her. Y/N let out a series of short, breathless moans, her head lolling back as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of him filling her so completely. Each time he withdrew, she felt a hollow ache, only for it to be replaced by a burst of searing pleasure as he plunged back in, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her again and again.

"More... please, Yunho, more." She pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down, wanting to feel the crushing weight of his body against hers.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more primal.

"Kiss me..." She panted, her voice a broken, desperate plea. "Please, kiss me."

Yunho didn't make her wait another second. He crashed his lips against hers, the kiss tasting of salt, sweat and pure, unadulterated lust. It wasn't gentle. It was a collision, his tongue invading her mouth just as aggressively as his cock invaded her body.

Between the frantic, bruising kisses, he kept murmuring against her lips, his words a continuous stream of worship.

"Taking me so good, sweetheart." He growled into her mouth, his breath hot and ragged. "My good girl... such a fucking good girl for me."

At his words, a wave of pure, liquid heat flooded Y/N's senses. The affirmation, paired with the punishing rhythm of his hips, pushed her closer to the edge than she had ever been. She melted into him, her body molding to his every curve and angle, her mind spinning in a haze of bliss.

"Yes..." She breathed against his lips, the words barely a whisper, yet carrying the weight of her total devotion. "Your good girl... Yours."

The admission seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. Yunho's thrusts became frantic, almost violent, driven by a need to lose himself entirely within her.

His teeth grazed her lower lip, a sharp sting that only fueled the fire, before he pulled back just enough to stare directly into her soul. His eyes were no longer just dark, they were abyssal, swallowing her whole.

"Mine." He growled, the word vibrating against her skin, heavy and undeniable. "Every inch of you. Every moan, every drop of your sweetness... it all belongs to me."

He punctuated the declaration by slamming his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as if he were physically branding her.

The sheer intensity of his possession, combined with the relentless, deep pounding of his cock, finally shattered her. Y/N's vision blurred, the edges of the garage dissolving into a kaleidoscope of white light. A strangled, high-pitched cry tore from her throat as her internal muscles clamped down on him in a series of violent, rhythmic spasms.

"Ah... Oh god, Yunho!" She gasped, her back arching off the workbench as the orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave. Her entire body convulsed, her legs shaking uncontrollably around his waist as she drowned in the pleasure, her release flooding him with her incredible heat.

Feeling her walls tighten around him in those desperate, milking contractions, Yunho lost all semblance of control. The sensation of her clenching around his pulsing length was the final trigger. He stiffened, his muscles locking tight and a loud, tortured roar escaped his throat as he drove himself into her one last time, burying himself as deep as possible.

He came with a violence that shook his entire frame, his seed erupting deep inside her, hot and plentiful. He pumped into her repeatedly, his body jerking with each powerful spasm, filling her so completely that she could feel the warmth spreading within her.

For a long minute, the only sound in the cavernous garage was the ragged, echoing cadence of their breathing. It was a harsh, broken rhythm that slowly began to sync as the adrenaline bled out of them. She could feel the violent, erratic thud of his heart hammering directly against her own, slowing fraction by fraction with every deep exhale that expanded his broad chest. His large hands, usually so restless and aggressive, were perfectly still where they rested on her bare skin, his thumbs absentmindedly tracing the curve of her waist. The air in the shop was thick, practically vibrating with the unspoken weight of what they had just done.

​"Don't." He whispered roughly. The word was jagged, completely stripped of his usual abrasive armor. He slowly opened his dark eyes, the raw vulnerability in them pinning her right to the spot. He shifted his right hand, bringing it up to cup her face. His thumb, rough and calloused, brushed softly over her cheekbone, wiping away the lingering trace of the tear she had shed just minutes ago. "Don't leave." He whispered, his voice dropping into a heavy, pleading rumble.

​Y/N swallowed hard, her heart threatening to beat straight through her ribs. She looked up at him, her fingers still resting against the warm skin at the back of his neck. "Yunho... my car..."

​"I'll take the whole damn engine apart again." He breathed, leaning in until his lips brushed against hers with every word. His grip tightened protectively on her waist. "I'll lose the parts. I'll throw the keys in the river. I don't care. Just... tell me you're staying."

Y/N stared up into his dark, desperate eyes, the sheer absurdity of his threat finally cutting through the heavy haze in her mind. A breathless, disbelieving laugh escaped her lips, the sound echoing softly in the quiet garage.

"You'd throw my keys in the river?" She murmured, her thumb gently tracing the tense line of his jaw. "The same keys you've spent days complaining about having to look at?"

"In a heartbeat." He answered without a fraction of a second of hesitation.

The raw, unfiltered sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten all over again. He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as a shaky, uneven exhale left his lips.

"I'll do whatever it takes." He rasped, his thick fingers lightly flexing against her hips. "Just don't get in that car today. Nor tomorrow. Nor anytime soon."

She let her hands slide from his neck down to his bare, broad shoulders, her fingertips resting lightly against the heavy, sculpted muscles she had been admiring all morning. The city, her job, her meticulously planned schedule, all the things she had been so desperate to get back to, suddenly felt a million miles away. None of it mattered compared to the overwhelming, anchoring weight of his hands on her skin.

"You don't have to break my engine, Yunho." She whispered softly.

His eyes snapped open, a flash of pure panic tightening his features until she leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Just put the tools down." She finished, her voice steady and entirely certain. "I'm not going anywhere."

The absolute, visceral relief that crashed over him was instantaneous. A deep, ragged sigh tore from his chest as the remaining tension finally drained out of his massive frame. He didn't say a word. Instead, he simply crushed her to him, wrapping both arms securely around her back and burying his face in the crook of her neck, holding her tight as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

When he finally pulled back, the abrasive, defensive mechanic was completely gone. In his place was a man looking at her with a quiet, burning intensity that made her breath hitch all over again. The ghost of a smirk finally tugged at the corner of his lips, the first real, genuine smile she had ever seen him wear.

"Good." He murmured. His calloused thumb brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He dropped a quick, hard kiss to her lips, then effortlessly lifted her off the cold metal workbench, letting her slide down his body until her feet hit the concrete floor.

He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt from the dust and pulling it over his head, the lean muscles in his back flexing sharply with the movement. Y/N grabbed his oversized leather jacket from the nearby chair, slipping it over her bare shoulders.

Yunho stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back flush against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head as they both looked out at the almost-repaired car sitting in front of them.

"So..." Y/N murmured, leaning back into his solid embrace, entirely content. "When do you think it'll be ready for good?"

She could feel the low, gravelly rumble of his laughter vibrating against her spine. His thick, prominent-veined hands linked securely over her stomach, locking her exactly where she belonged.

"Next week." He drawled, his voice thick with a lazy, possessive warmth. "Maybe next month. Or next year. Depends entirely on how distracting you are."

The end.

[ateezinc]

ATEEZ — ATINY's VOYAGE: TINY MYSTERY 'Ghosteez Radio' VCR 👻

[snug-gyu]

260717 ATINY'S VOYAGE: TINY MYSTERY FANMEETING

[jonghodaily]

[lemondrop-sunrise]

kitten + puppy, pt 3

[starcatching]

YUNHO — INCEPTION 260718

[xgteez]

Hongjoong & Yeosang | Pretty Girl Cover | cr

bonus:

[imthisyearsold]

YUNHO ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ '2026 Ateez Fanmeeting ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ATINY'S VOYAGE : TINY MYSTERY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ | 26.07.17

[yungistiny]

THAT IS MY BIG BABYGIRL DRESSED LIKE A GENSHIN PRINCESS

[jjungkkook]

♪ Kerosene, dopamine, chemical-induced Fantasy and fame, yeah, the things we choose ♪

[starcatching]

YUNHO ☆ 260717 Ghost

[wooyos]

seonghwa & mingi — 'trouble maker' cover 260717 cr. flipped0809

[cassiebellbottoms]

Also guys some context as to why san denied them dating. He kinda had to because wooyoung was wilding LMAO

Please spread this around so more people understand 🙏🏼

[wooyos]

hwagi — 'trouble maker' cover 260717 cr. a_prs_z

[vertiny]

[ig-teez]

_starhwa_

[notaprophet]

[seonghwasss02]

i like 🙂‍↕️