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››› friday

“Uh oh,” you mumble.

“What is it?” Zach asks. His gaze is fixed ahead, the snowy road a stretch of glittering white under the afternoon sun. You bring your phone up closer to your face.

“Chase just texted the group,” you explain. “Apparently, the furnace broke.”

“Uh oh,” he echoes.

“Exactly,” you say with a defeated laugh. “What now? Do we cancel? We can’t be out there all weekend with no heat.”

Zach checks the time on his dashboard to see you have thirty minutes left of the drive to the cabin you rented with your friends. The four of them are already there, waiting for you two.

“Nevermind,” you say. “Esha texted. The only thing broken is Chase’s sense of humor. I’m this close to throwing him outside and locking the door.”

You hold up your hand in a pinching motion.

“And she used this emoji,” you explain with a giggle.

Zach’s eyes drift to you, an endeared smile pulling on his lips.

“Appreciate the demonstration,” he says.

He reaches a red light and forces himself not to stare at you. He’s afraid that one day, his feelings for you will refuse to stay stuck in his heart and he’ll just blurt them out.

The past hour in the car with you has been a dream. Really, any time he spends with you is a dream. You’re usually all together as a group, so he cherishes the rare moments he gets to be alone with you.

He knows admitting his feelings to you comes with the risk of losing your friendship and fracturing the bond you both have in the group. But sometimes, it’s like keeping them in actually physically hurts.

“What’s your favorite emoji?” you ask. “No, wait.” You think back to the texts you’ve exchanged over the many months you’ve been friends. “I already know. It’s the guy running. Your version of saying on my way.”

“It’s efficient,” he replies with a shrug.

“Okay, so, what’s your second favorite emoji?” you say.

Zach laughs heartily and says, “You never run out of questions.”

“Do you mean that in a ‘you’re so much fun’ way,” you ask, “or in a ‘I’m too nice to say it, but shut up’ way?”

“Please don’t shut up,” he says in a rush. “You’re keeping me entertained.”

“It’s the least I can do after you stayed back for me.”

You were the only person in your friend group who had a class you couldn’t miss today. Zach offered to leave for the cabin with you, saying he had an important essay he wanted to finish this morning anyway, while everyone else drove up last night.

He had already finished that essay two days ago.

“It was no problem,” he replies. He means it. Nothing is too difficult for him if it’s for you.

“I’ll still pay you back,” you say. You stifle a yawn, fighting off the fatigue that’s been melting into you for the past hour. “What can I get you? What do you want most in the world?”

Zach chews on his bottom lip, pretending to think, when really, what he wants most in the world is sitting in his passenger seat, the prettiest and kindest girl he’s ever known, her gaze burning into him in his peripheral vision.

“A life-changing cup of hot cocoa,” he replies.

“Big ask, but you got it,” you agree with a laugh. “You can enjoy it in your grandpa pj’s.”

Zach smirks. A few nights ago, on a group video call, you amusedly pointed out the plaid button-up he was wearing in bed.

“They’re comfortable,” he counters.

“They’re still pajamas an old man would wear,” you tease. Your phone buzzes in your lap. “It’s Chase. Esha ruined my prank. Scaring us that we’ll freeze? What kind of prank is that?”

“He’s ridiculous,” Zach laughs.

The six of you met back when you were put together for a group project. You all got along so well that you started hanging out outside of class. Zach has grown to deeply care for everyone in the group. You, especially.

“I’ve been playing my music this whole ride,” you realize. “It’s only fair that you get to choose the songs for the last stretch.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re a good dj.”

“For once in your life, stop being so nice and just play what you want,” you tease. “Since your phone is the GPS, we can keep using mine. Do you have any public playlists?”

He scratches his cheek, nerves filling his chest.

“You’ll make fun of me,” he says.

“Zachary,” you gasp. “When have I ever made fun of you?”

“Like, a minute ago.”

“Other than that.”

“Five minutes ago?”

You laugh again and Zach swears it’s the nicest sound he’s ever heard. Nicer than any song either of you could put on.

“My music is either workout stuff or just… sappy,” he admits.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you respond with a chuckle. “No pressure, but I promise, I won’t judge.”

He breathes a laugh and tells you his username, praying he can keep a straight face if the songs he listens to when he’s thinking about you play.

You tap on the playlist he titled ‘Relaxing’ and sink back in your seat as you gaze out the window. The glass is a little fogged, the world looking like it was dusted with powdered sugar.

The gentle guitar spills out of the speakers as your eyes travel over snow-covered peaks of evergreens that line the road.

Your heart pulls once you hear the song’s first lines, curious if Zach relates to them.

I’m the type of guy, trying not to fight

Not so perfect but I always try to bring the light

He’s easygoing and optimistic – that much is true. But not so perfect? If you had the chance, you’d tell him how perfect he is, over and over again.

Your eyes slowly flutter shut, lulled by the melody. You tell yourself not to daydream about the man sitting next to you when you’re certain he doesn’t feel the same way you do, but it’s easier said than done.

You can’t help it. The longer you’re Zach’s friend, the more you have to yearn for. You’re convinced he has the purest heart you’ve ever known.

But through the conversations you’ve had with your friends about your love lives, you’ve learned that Zach is a romantic, never nervous to pursue a girl he likes. And if he liked you, you’re sure he’d have told you by now.

When you swore Esha and Maggie to secrecy regarding your crush on him, they were confident he feels the same way. You still aren’t.

I don’t wanna feel insecure about a thing

But she makes me feel like I don’t even know what’s happening

Pull me closer and it’s like I forget what was wrong

The thought of pulling Zach closer, of making his insecurities and problems go away makes your stomach twist with warmth.

And then, you’re lying in bed with him, cocooned in a fluffy duvet, your hand on his cheek as you gaze at him. Your heart is full, the air buzzing with love. He worryingly asks you if you slept enough. You nod and he tells you how beautiful you are and you press your lips on his.

Sudden stillness stirs you awake. You meet his sweet blue eyes.

Oh. You fell asleep. And you had a dream about Zach so tender that your heart is still racing, your lips tingling from the kisses he never even gave you.

“Did we make it?” you murmur, tumbling back into reality, grounding yourself in the fact that you’re in a parked car, not a cozy bed.

“Not yet,” Zach says. “I wanted to make a quick stop. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You look through the windshield to see a convenience store sign, the bottom skirted in translucent icicles.

“It’s okay,” you stutter, unbuckling your seatbelt. “It’ll be good to stretch my legs.”

Cold air pricks your cheeks when you step out of the car. Even though Zach has no idea what your subconscious just threw you into, it’s embarrassing to be around him after such an romantic dream.

You round the car and approach the front door, which Zach is holding open for you. In your daze, you realize you forgot your wallet.

“My wallet,” you say in a hush, turning back.

“I’ll cover it,” Zach offers.

But you’re already scurrying to the car. And then, you lose your balance.

.❅❅❅.

The weight in Zach’s stomach is catastrophically heavy.

You’ve been in a confused daze since your fall. And he’s worried sick.

He stands next to you as you sit in bed, blinking slowly. Since he helped pick you up off the icy concrete and drove you to the nearest hospital, you’ve been slowly coming to your senses.

The doctor comes in and asks a few questions. You get the first few right – your full name, your date of birth, your major, your address. All said confidently, even through the fog blocking your mind.

That’s a relief.

But then, you’re not sure what day of the week it is. You can’t tell her what you had for breakfast. And, most confusing of all, when the doctor asks if you know who he is, you say, “Zach. My boyfriend.”

He swallows hard, the word fluttering in his mind. Boyfriend?

The doctor runs a few tests, checking your coordination and reflexes, then offers a sympathetic grimace.

“You have a mild concussion. You’re not showing any serious signs I’m concerned about, but we should do a CT scan just in case.” The doctor looks to Zach. “Can you come with me to help book it?”

He nods, giving you one more worried glance before he trails the doctor out of the room.

After he tucks the appointment card in his wallet, he listens to the doctor’s instructions. Rest. Hydrate. Reduce stress. No screens. Come back if symptoms worsen.

“What if she’s remembering things wrong?” Zach asks. “I… uh, I’m not her boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Her memory will likely come back to her in pieces,” the doctor reassures. “It’s normal that things are jumbled. She’ll be fragile for a bit.”

“What do I do? Is it best for her healing if I play along?”

“The less stress on her brain, the better,” she says. “You can calmly tell her what she has wrong or let her believe the minor, harmless things until she’s herself again. I’m sure she’ll be better soon and you won’t even have to correct her.”

Zach’s chest strains in anxiety, worried that he’ll mess something up. The last thing he wants to do is impede your healing by stressing you out.

When he comes back into the room, your eyes light up in a way they never have for him before. He tries not to let it get to him.

“Hey,” you say lazily, gazing at him with adoration. “Is it booked? Can we go now? We’re so late.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he says softly. “You’re injured.”

You giggle, stretching your arm out. Hesitatingly, Zach steps closer, letting you warmly hold his hand atop the thin blanket. He feels guilty for enjoying it.

“Did you tell them what happened?” you ask.

“Yeah, I – uh, I…” He begins to stammer as you gently run your fingers over his knuckles. “I should update them, actually.”

He pulls away abruptly, taking his phone out, brows furrowed. A simple touch from you is overwhelming enough, let alone when you’re only doing it because you’re concussed and confused.

You watch him text, his expression tense. He’s always like this, so worried about you. You think back to a few days ago, when he was concerned you didn’t get enough sleep as you lazed in bed together.

“Relax,” you say gently. “She said it was mild, right?”

“Yeah.” Zach keeps his eyes on the screen, unsure of how to tell your friends you’re under the impression you’re dating. “You just need to take it easy. You’ll be back to normal soon.”

.❅❅❅.

You catch up on the group texts you missed after your fall when you settle in Zach’s car. You’re reading the last message, which is Esha saying something about seeing you soon when Zach turns on the engine.

You can’t quite make out the words. Then you realize Zach’s been trying to talk to you.

“What?” you say.

“You shouldn’t look at a screen,” he says gently.

“Right.” You lower your phone. “I can barely read right now anyway.”

“Can you put your seatbelt on?”

“Yes.” You turn, the motion suddenly making you dizzy. Your eyes pinch shut and you hold your head with a pained sigh.

Zach has never been more upset at himself. He’s supposed to be taking care of you. The doctor called you fragile. He’s already messing up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

He leans over, pulling your seatbelt into the buckle. You keep your eyes shut, feeling his forehead brush against your cheek, enjoying the warm, rich fragrance that’s so Zach.

You might not remember everything, but you remember how much you love the way he smells.

“Thanks, baby,” you murmur and plant a kiss on his temple.

Zach’s stomach goes wild with butterflies. Heavy guilt sets in again. He can’t go on like this. It feels wrong to play along.

He pulls back and you look at him past heavy lids.

“We should talk,” he says, “about our friendship.”

He has no idea how to navigate this conversation. The doctor said to correct you calmly. There’s nothing calm about the way his heart is pounding right now.

“We haven’t told them, have we?” you ask. “I can’t remember ever acting like a couple around them. Is that what you mean?”

You think he’s talking about your friendships with the group waiting at the cabin.

This might be the best way to do this.

He’ll let you believe that you’re keeping your relationship under wraps. He’ll avoid any opportunity to be alone with you until your mind is straight again. And eventually, it’ll come to you that you and him aren’t actually together.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We have to act like we’re just friends in front of them.”

“Why’d we decide to do that again?” you ask.

Zach nervously taps his knee.

“Malek had a really bad breakup,” he explains. “We didn’t want to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. The memory comes to you, choppy but clear enough. “Dumped via text. Poor guy.”

He flashes a relieved smile. It’s reassuring that you remember something that happened a week ago.

“Right,” he says. He puts the car in drive. The sooner he gets to the cabin, the sooner he can stop putting on this act. “We should get going.”

.❅❅❅.

Your friends are quiet and reluctant to come too close when you step into the cabin.

“Guys, I’m fine,” you laugh.

“How are you feeling?” Maggie asks, wide-eyed. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course,” you say. “It’s just a headache now.”

“You should sit down,” Zach urges behind you. He puts down the bags he brought in from the car that he refused to let you carry.

“It feels like I’ve been sitting all day,” you say. “Except for the part when I fell.”

“So, we can joke about it?” Chase asks with a grin.

“No,” Zach says. “Too soon.”

You look at him over your shoulder, chuckling.

“I think Zach’s more traumatized than I am,” you say.

“What happened exactly?” Esha asks, waving you in.

You step further into the cabin, struck by the enormous living room windows. They present a stunning view of snowy hills and picturesque cottages under the setting sun.

If it weren’t for the stubborn ache pulsing in your forehead, you’d want to explore more of the cabin. But Zach’s right. You should sit down. That walk from the car was enough exercise. You’re already dizzy again.

“It’s my fault,” Zach replies. “I stopped at some random store and that’s where she fell.”

You meet his eyes, heart breaking at the pained expression on his face. You wish you weren’t putting on a farce right now, because if you could do what you wanted, you’d pull him into a hug.

“It’s not your fault I don’t know how to walk,” you joke.

“You fell in the store?” Chase asks.

“Parking lot,” you say. “To get my wallet. Even though Zach said I didn’t need to. So, technically, it’s on me.”

You can tell by the look on his face that he’s not convinced. He’s blaming himself for this entirely.

You sit down for dinner, downing the water Zach encouraged you to drink, while he catches everyone up on how to help support your healing process.

“How do you know all this?” Maggie asks. “Concussions from playing soccer?”

“I asked the doctor,” he clarifies.

When you’re sure nobody’s looking, you reassuringly squeeze his knee under the table. He tenses up under your touch.

.❅❅❅.

After dinner, you’re bundled up in a blanket on the plush living room couch as flames crackle in the stone fireplace.

Nobody has allowed you to lift a finger. Every chore, down to putting away your dinner plate, has been taken over by one of your friends encouraging you to rest.

Zach’s on the other end of the sectional, tapping his fingers against the armrest. You remember that it’s something he does when he’s nervous. Why is he nervous? And why does he have to be so far away? You’re pretending to be just friends, but simply sitting next to you wouldn’t be suspicious, would it?

You know you’re not yourself. Your thoughts are muddy and patchy, but you’re already feeling much better than you did at the hospital because another memory suddenly blooms in your mind.

“Hot cocoa,” you say. Five heads turn to look at you as you point at Zach. “I owe you hot cocoa for staying back to drive me.”

“Yeah,” Zach says, his dimpled grin making your heart skip. “Your memories are coming back.”

You nod with a bright smile. At this moment, as he gazes at you from across the room, he realizes just how much he worries about you, he thinks of the kiss you left on his skin, and he accepts that he was wrong.

He’s not falling for you – he’s already in deep, completely enamored with no hope of pulling himself out.

.❅❅❅.

After you brush your teeth, you pad downstairs to the kitchen before you head to sleep in the bedroom you’re sharing with the girls.

You’re walking back through the dimly lit house when you hear the floorboards creak under someone’s weight. Zach rounds the corner at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hi,” you say sweetly. He towers over you and your eyes drift down to the red and black flannel he’s wearing. “The famous grandpa pj’s.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, happy you remember yet another thing.

His chest twists, conflicted because he enjoys the familiar comfort of being alone with you, but is also anxious in case you still have the wrong idea about the nature of your relationship.

“Proud of me for hydrating?” you ask, holding up the cup of water you just got for yourself.

“Very proud.” He walks past you. “Sleep well.”

You’re confused. It’s unlike him. You remember enough to know he’s typically kind and talkative.

“Hey,” you say, turning to look at him. He meets your gaze, lips slightly parted, visibly tense. “What’s wrong? You don’t really blame yourself, do you? I’m fine.”

His lips curl into a frown. He’s not convinced.

“Please don’t worry,” you continue softly, stepping towards him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. You’re the best friend a concussed girl could have.”

Friend. Does that mean you no longer think he’s your boyfriend? Have you forgotten about the whole thing entirely?

Before he can ask to be sure, he realizes you were being playful with the word, because you quickly look over your shoulder, then unexpectedly pop up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I made sure nobody saw,” you say in an amused whisper. “Good night.”

You rush upstairs, an electric current zipping through you even though you’ve kissed him a million times before.

Zach is standing still in the hallway, heart hammering, blood running hot. He’s lost count of how many times he daydreamed about kissing you. Now, he felt your lips against his for real, and his mind and body are a jumbled mess.

There’s a chance you like him back and now feel uninhibited to offer him the affection you’ve always wanted to give him. Or you’re just confused and you’ll be horrified to learn that he let you believe you’re dating when you were dazed and vulnerable.

If your memory isn’t solid by tomorrow, he’ll have to correct it himself. And he can only hope he won’t ruin your friendship in the process.

››› saturday

You’re walking towards the kitchen, the taste of toothpaste fresh on your tongue. You’re glad you woke up with a much clearer mind. You remember more of yesterday; it’s almost a complete picture in your head.

Zach and Malek are sitting at the breakfast table, cradling mugs of coffee. Zach’s eyes dart away from yours the moment he sees you. It makes your heart sink.

“Hi,” you say to them.

“Morning,” Malek replies.

“Feeling better?” Zach asks.

“Headache’s gone,” you answer. He nods, but doesn’t look at you again.

He’s been acting weird and you’re not sure if it’s just guilt over your fall. The memory of you lying in bed with him a few days ago is so clear. What happened between then and yesterday?

You must have had a fight that you’re forgetting about. You’re sure Zach would be selfless enough to pretend that you’re on good terms while you’re concussed, but he can’t hide that he’s on edge.

“Bad sleep?” you ask, looking down at his drink. “You only drink coffee when you’re desperate.”

His eyes finally find yours again, softening when they do. It’s the early morning and he’s wearing sweats and a hoodie and his dark honey hair is a tousled mess, yet he still looks so handsome and it feels unfair to not be able to kiss him.

“You remember that, too,” he says with relief. “Anything else come up?”

“Nothing that feels important,” you admit with a shrug. Disappointment flashes over his features and you chew on your lip in saddened confusion.

Zach hates seeing the hurt on your face. He needs to have this conversation now and get it over with.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” he asks.

“That sounds nice,” you answer.

“You’re insane,” Malek says. “It’s like the North Pole out there.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh. “It makes you appreciate being inside even more.”

.❅❅❅.

You stand side-by-side on the snow-covered balcony leading out to the back of the cabin, bundled up in your coats, hats, and mittens.

“It’s so pretty out here,” you whisper, gazing out at the frozen lake hugged by patches of trees.

“It is,” Zach says. His breath comes out in a small puff of fog as he ruminates over how to tell you what he needs to tell you.

“All that ice,” you mumble, “and so many different ways to fall on it.”

He cracks a smile.

“Still too soon to joke about it,” he says.

“Even I don’t get a free pass?” you chuckle.

You reach for his hand, feeling his warmth through your mittens. Zach clears his throat and pulls out of your grasp.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he begins. His cheeks redden. “And please hear me out. I was doing what I thought was–”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupts him. You both look back to see Malek ambling out onto the balcony with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Maybe you guys are onto something,” he says. “We didn’t come all the way out here not to appreciate the views, right?”

He stands between you two and despite the tension, you and Zach share a smile, knowingly both irritated yet amused at your friend’s clueless intrusion.

.❅❅❅.

When you head back inside, everyone else has woken up, loudly chattering in the kitchen. You’re pulled into a conversation with Esha and Maggie while Chase asks Zach to help him with starting the fire.

It’s hard to absorb the words your friends are saying after the way you and Zach left things a few minutes ago.

“Can someone turn on some music?” Maggie eventually asks. “I left my phone upstairs.”

“Sure,” you offer.

“No screens!” Esha shouts.

“It’ll just be for a second,” you laugh. You connect to the speaker. When you realize you have an unfamiliar playlist open, you curiously scroll through the songs.

Zach comes back into the kitchen, dusting off his hands.

You tap on the first track in the playlist. A slow, gentle song buzzes from the living room.

Then, it hits you like a wave.

This song played in his car on the way here. You dozed off listening to it. You woke up from a dream.

A dream.

Zach isn’t your boyfriend. He never was.

The puzzle pieces have finally snapped together, and the picture isn’t pretty.

You stare at him, the realization harsh and unsettling. The possibility of a fight you forgot about had run through your head, but the fact that you were never even together is startling.

Zach can see it immediately, the discomfort on your face. He thought he wanted you to figure it out on your own. Now that you have, he regrets not telling you the truth right away.

“Uh, my… phone is about to die,” you stammer, stopping the song. “Be right back.”

You leave the room, and while everyone else carries on conversation, Zach’s heart is in his stomach. He messed up. Possibly irreversibly.

He trails behind you, whispering your name as you rush up the stairs. You turn to face him once you reach your bedroom, nearly breathless.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, the embarrassment wringing out your insides.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Can you sit down? You need to take it easy.”

“Zach,” you assert. He sighs in worry.

“I was about to tell you outside, but then we got interrupted.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me right away?” you say. “I… oh, my God. I kissed you last night.”

Zach rakes his hand through his hair as you step back and exhale in disbelief.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t stress you out,” he explains. “I didn’t want to confuse you or embarrass you–”

“Too late,” you interrupt with a note of sadness.

It’s a punch to Zach’s gut seeing you so upset because of something he did. He’d actually prefer a real punch right now. At least then, he’d know the pain will fade. The guilt filling his chest feels like it’ll be there forever.

“I – I was doing what I thought was best,” he says. “She said you were fragile and it freaked me out and I promise, the last thing I want to do is upset you or mess with your healing.”

You can see that he’s in distress, but so are you. You spilled your heart out to him, you touched and kissed him while under the impression that you shared a love that wasn’t there.

“Please don’t think I’m a creep or something – I just – I honestly didn’t expect that kiss,” he admits. “I would’ve stopped it if I did.”

You have to look away. Why would he have stopped it? Because you weren’t in your right mind? Or because he wouldn’t ever want you to kiss him?

You hope he has it in him to at least admit if he feels anything for you. This is the time to do it after you embarrassed yourself so immensely. You stare down at the floor, silently praying that he’ll reassure you.

Zach’s throat tightens. Seeing you like this makes his shame so overpowering that his eyes start to burn with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. He steps out of the room before you can see him cry. He doesn’t want to make this about him. He wants to give you space.

You’re left standing alone in the silence, your heart cracked right down the middle.

.❅❅❅.

Zach doesn’t let his gaze linger on you for the rest of the day. He’s terrified he’ll have to face his fear of losing you.

What’ll life look like without you? You met and then all of a sudden, you became a ray of light in his world, always able to make him smile, always on his mind. He can’t stomach making you uncomfortable. You looked so disgusted that he went along with a lie.

After dinner, you’re all sitting in the living room and helping Maggie set up a board game. That’s when Zach finally allows himself to look at you.

You’re sitting in front of the fireplace, quietly reading the instructions to yourself, lips moving with the words. Worrisome curiosity gnaws at him, eager to find out if your mind is clear again.

“Does reading still feel weird or is it okay now?” he asks you from across the room.

“Oh – yeah,” you say, caught off guard. You haven’t spoken since your fight this morning. “It’s okay now.”

“Where have you been, MacLaren?” Maggie laughs. “We established she’s back to normal like three hours ago.”

“Do we need to check your head?” Chase jokes.

Zach forces a laugh. He’s been too lost in his thoughts to absorb himself in the conversations happening around him all day. The possibility of making you uncomfortable simply by being in the same room as you is too heavy to ignore at this point.

“Maybe,” he says. “I should probably turn in.”

“What?” Malek shouts. “I was going to kick your ass at… what’s this game called again?”

“You can kick my ass later,” Zach mumbles, standing up. “Sorry, guys.”

“Lame,” Maggie sighs.

You keep your gaze on him as he leaves the room, but his eyes stay on the floor the entire time.

.❅❅❅.

You gently knock on the boys’ bedroom door, listening to your friends’ enthusiastic competition-fuelled conversations echoing from downstairs.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you started the board game and two since you purposely knocked yourself out of it. You excused yourself to take a shower, but your intention was always to come up and talk to Zach. Even though you’d left things so tense, you need to make sure of one thing.

“Yeah?” His voice on the other side of the door is muffled. You step into the dark room, the hallway light spilling in.

“It’s me,” you whisper into the dimness. “Sorry. You’re not sleeping, are you?”

“No. I can’t,” he admits. You hear a mattress creak. A light turns on with a click. Zach’s standing by a lamp, almost looking wounded.

You step inside, shutting the door behind you, nervous as you settle on the edge of one of the beds. He sits on another bed and faces you.

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” you say. “I just had to make sure you know that, okay?”

Zach lets out a shaky sigh. He purses his lips, nodding slowly, and when you see a shine pool over his eyes, you still.

“Thanks,” he breathes. “I hated the idea of you thinking I took advantage of you or something and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be around me if you–”

“What? Zach, no. No way.”

When he quietly sniffles, you’re certain he’s holding back tears. You knew he was sensitive, but witnessing him cry over the possibility of making you uncomfortable stings. Especially since he surely felt awkward with you touching him and kissing him, and still played along for you.

He doesn’t deserve to feel like this. You shuffle over, sitting next to him on his bed.

“Listen, I was just really embarrassed,” you say, desperate to console him. “I still am, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to be. You were injured.”

“Yeah, but… how would you feel if you ran around kissing me just for me to tell you I never wanted you to?”

Zach’s jaw tenses. Is that what you think? That he doesn't want to kiss you? God, he’d spend all day kissing you if you let him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” you continue, “and I get why you went along with it. I know you were just looking out for me. Sorry that I got so upset.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“We’ll never agree on this,” you say with a quiet laugh. “We’re good, okay? I’m gonna go take a shower and if you’re up for it, you should go downstairs. I’ll come down after and make you that cocoa I promised.”

Zach laughs, genuine and warm, and it makes your heart feel like it’s floating.

“Cool,” he says.

“Cool,” you echo. You stand up, almost out the door when he stops you.

“Hey, can you…”

“What?” you ask.

“Just… be careful in the shower. Don’t slip.”

“I’ll be fine. Jeez, you fall on your head one time,” you quip. He laughs. And his smile doesn’t fade for a while after you leave the room.

.❅❅❅.

You’ve just washed the soap off your skin and are about to turn the water off when you’re plunged into darkness. Standing in the tub, naked, completely blind.

For a moment, you’re afraid this is a symptom of your concussion. But then you realize the power must have gone out. You feel for the tile wall, pushing the shower curtain to the side, more nervous to fall than you’d normally be.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Zach asks through the door. He’s nearly breathless. As soon as the lights went out, he raced up the stairs in worry, using his phone flashlight as a guide.

“Yeah,” you call. “Did the power go out?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Do you need any help or anything? I can get Esha or Maggie.”

You smile to yourself in the dark, not surprised that he’s being so considerate of your comfort. You feel for the robe you left on the counter and wrap yourself in its warmth, then open the door.

Zach’s standing in the hallway, phone flashlight aimed at the floor, concern etched into his face.

“Do we know what happened?” you ask.

Seeing you fresh out the shower feels oddly vulnerable. This is an intimate state for him to witness you in, but you’re not nervous at all, and it’s reassuring to have the hard proof that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

“I think it’s the wind,” he says. “It must have knocked a power line down.”

“Uh oh,” you reply in same way you did when Chase texted about the furnace breaking. He chuckles. At least he can find comfort in the fact that you really do remember everything.

“I’ll get dressed and meet you down there,” you say. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.”

The lights are still out when you come downstairs in your pajamas. Your friends are huddled around the fire, amber lights and gray shadows casting over their faces and on the walls. The crescent moon gleams in the cloudy sky past the massive windows.

“Were you at least at the end of your shower?” Esha asks with a defeated laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “I was just about to get out when the room went dark. I was scared my concussion came back.”

“That’d be great timing,” Esha jokes.

“Right? While I’m naked in a tub,” you laugh, settling on the floor next to her. Zach is glad nobody’s looking at him right now, because his cheeks are burning at the mention of you being naked. “Did anyone message the owner?”

“Yeah,” Maggie says. “He’s not answering, but I don’t know what he could even do. I checked online and the whole grid is out. I think we’ll just have to wait it out.”

“Chase cursed us,” Esha says.

“How is this my fault?” he asks.

“You tempted fate with your stupid joke yesterday,” she replies. “The furnace broke. Now everything is broken. Are you happy?”

“Honestly, thrilled,” he replies. “Pretty cool to have the power to control the weather.”

You continue to chat with your friends, feeling the temperature in the cabin slowly fall. Before you know it, it’s been half an hour and the power still isn’t back on. You’re shaking from the cold.

Zach notices the way you’re curled up, arms wrapped around your legs, surely colder than everyone else since you just showered.

“We should keep the fire going,” he says. “I don’t think the power will come back on any time soon.”

“What happened to the annoying optimism we’ve grown to know and love?” Maggie asks.

“I told you guys, I traumatized him when I fell yesterday,” you say. “I broke my brain and his.”

“No offense, but I probably would’ve laughed my ass off if I saw you fall like that,” Chase jokes.

“That’s why I’m glad I was with Zach,” you retort. He smirks to himself as he builds the fire, hoping it’ll radiate more heat for you soon. “I bet when my memory was messed up, you would’ve convinced me that I owed you money or something.”

“Shit,” Chase says. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Shameless,” Esha mutters. “Guys, I think we’re going to have to sleep here in front of the fire. I bet the bedrooms are freezing.”

“Aw, it’ll be like a real sleepover,” Maggie says excitedly. “Let’s do it.”

You’re all in a fit of laughter as you bring mattresses and pillows and blankets down the stairs, already sure that this is going to be a cherished memory. What happened yesterday has given you a new perspective on life, a realization that something as simple as your memory should be appreciated.

And it’s also made your crush on Zach even deeper. He’s done nothing but look out for you, down to pretending to be your boyfriend to ease you into your healing. Now that the embarrassment has faded, you feel guilty that you were ever upset at him.

The six of you lie in front of the crackling fire, wrapped up in duvets as the wind howls outside. You’re closest to Zach, your back inches away from his chest. As you gaze at the flames, you think about the way his lips felt on yours last night.

No wonder you felt so stunned after kissing him. Your mind didn’t know it was your first kiss, but your body did. The thought that it was also your last kiss makes your stomach sink. He’s had every opportunity to tell you if he likes you. He hasn’t. You’re just a friend to him and nothing more.

“Who wants to bet on when the power’s going to be back on?” Malek asks. You hear the click of him unlocking his phone. “It’s 11:30 now. I don’t…”

He suddenly stops talking.

“Did he die? I’m too tired to turn around and check,” Esha says.

“My ex texted me,” Malek says.

“Don’t fall into the trap, man,” Chase says. “What’s done is done.”

“What’s it say?” Zach asks. He stares at you as you lie in front of him, backlit by the fire.

“She’s apologizing,” Malek says. “She wants to get back together.”

“No,” Maggie says sternly. “She dumped you over text, dude.”

You listen to your friends chat, your eyelids growing heavy. Admittedly, you’re worried you’ll dream of Zach again. Having his heart in a delusion just to wake up and realize it’s not really yours hurts too much.

You shuffle your feet to get comfortable, accidentally bumping Zach.

“Sorry,” you whisper over your shoulder. “Was that your kicking foot?”

“Yeah,” Zach replies. “You just blew my entire season.”

You giggle quietly, tightening your blanket around you. You wish you could hold on to a shred of hope that eventually, your feelings for him will fade. The sinking feeling in your gut tells you that’ll never happen.

.❅❅❅.

A harsh droning pulls you out of your sleep. Your eyes squeeze shut, then flicker open when you realize someone is snoring. Loudly.

“Who is that?” Esha whispers into the pitch dark. The fire must have died down.

“Malek,” Chase mutters. “He sounds like a fucking dragon.”

“Malek,” Esha whines. His snoring suddenly stops and you figure she must have kicked him awake.

You chuckle to yourself, gently shuffling in place. That’s when you realize you’re up against a warm, firm surface, your nose brushing against the comforting fragrance you love so much.

You’re cuddled up to Zach. You pull back an inch, your entire body tense.

“How’d I get here?” you try to joke in a whisper. “Sorry.”

“Stay,” he mumbles sleepily. He pulls you in by your hip, squeezing gently in his daze. Your heart thrums and you obey, giving into what you want most.

››› sunday

You can feel the brightness of the sun behind your eyelids. The air isn’t cold. The furnace is buzzing. The power is back on.

You gain your bearings and slowly sit up. Everyone else is still asleep. You smile in admiration as you look at your sleeping friends. You love them all so much. You turn to see Zach, his lips in a cute pout, and you accept the fact that you love him, too, in a deeper way.

Friends. You’re friends. You’ll keep telling yourself that until your heart believes it.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen, determined to cook a big breakfast for everyone. Five minutes pass before Maggie walks in with a tired smile, commenting that something smells good.

“Sit down,” you invite her. “Coffee? Tea? I’m making a thank-you breakfast.”

“What for?” she asks.

“You all took such good care of me,” you say.

“Yeah, because Zach basically threatened us to when you first got here,” she laughs. “I’ve never seen him so intense. Last night, when the power went out? He booked it upstairs to find you. He’s been so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I think he still feels responsible for me falling,” you say.

She sits up to look over the wall into the hallway to check that the coast is clear, then waves you closer. You turn off the range and sit next to her.

“I think it’s more than that,” she says.

“No,” you say with a small laugh. “No way.”

.❅❅❅.

Zach shuffles awake, exhaling deeply. He drags his hand over the blanket next to him, looking for you before he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

It felt so nice when you turned towards him in a half-asleep daze, nuzzling your head into his chest. It took him a while to fall asleep simply because of how hard his heart was drumming.

He steps over his sleeping friends. Then, he hears a hushed conversation getting louder as he heads down the hallway.

“...think so?” Maggie says.

“No,” you respond. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you and Esha until after we got back, but… I was so out of it at the hospital that I thought he was my boyfriend and… he actually went along with it.”

“What?” she says.

You’re talking about him. He’s about to clear his throat to announce himself and pretend like he hasn’t heard anything, but then he hears your next words.

“I know he didn’t want me acting like that with him, but he tolerated it just so I wouldn’t get freaked out when I realized my memory was messed up,” you confess. “He was so awkward about it after. Trust me. He does not like me back.”

Zach slowly steps back towards the living room and goes up the stairs, trying to absorb what he just heard, trying to make sense of the fact that you not only truly think that he doesn’t want your affection, but also that you’re genuinely disappointed about it.

Back. You don’t think he likes you back.

This might just be the happiest he’s ever felt.

.❅❅❅.

You love how pleased your friends look at the breakfast spread you’ve made for them as they trickle into the kitchen.

“It’s a good thing it was so cold overnight,” you announce. “Nothing in the fridge went bad.”

Zach is the last one to come in and your heart, the traitor, skitters when you meet his striking blue eyes. How long until you can look into those eyes and not think about how it feels to be held by him, how it feels to kiss him?

“Sleep well?” you ask to make casual conversation. He settles in the last empty chair at the table.

“Yeah. My old man pajamas are really toasty,” he says.

You nod, skin buzzing. Does he remember cuddling you in the middle of the night? By the way his eyes linger on you, you think he just might, and in this simple, small moment, you feel a pinch of hope that he feels the same way you do.

You glance up at the clock hanging above the table to see it’s just past nine, leaving less than two hours before check-out. You try to enjoy the last little bit you have with your friends before you split up to clean and leave the cabin the way you found it.

.❅❅❅.

The cabin is spotless, the cars are packed up, and you’re hugging your friends goodbye as light snowflakes gently fall from the white sky.

You’ve been giddy with anticipation at the thought of having an hour and a half drive back to campus with Zach, even though he left such a confusing knot in your chest. Despite everything, he’s still a friend you love to spend time with.

“Have a nice drive!” Chase says as he heads towards Esha’s car, raising his brows at Zach.

After breakfast, Chase had asked him to join you two on the ride home to have more space than he would have sharing a backseat with Malek, but Zach apologized and told him he’d rather not.

When Chase insisted he tell him why, Zach didn’t see any reason to keep it in any longer. He admitted to liking you and said he’d finally tell you on the way home.

“Bold,” Chase had said. “And if she doesn’t like you, too? That’ll be like, the most awkward car ride ever.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Zach replied with a smile.

.❅❅❅.

“Wow,” you say as you drive out onto the main road. “I never made you that hot cocoa, did I?”

“You didn’t,” he says, pretending to be deeply displeased.

“Will you ever forgive me?” you play along.

“I’ll need to do some reflecting first,” Zach replies. You laugh, relieved that you two are joking like old times before this past weekend through you for a loop.

“Fair,” you say. You plug your phone into his speaker system. “Let’s see if I can unlock any other memories. And don’t tell me it’s still too soon to joke about it.”

Zach chuckles, cocking his head.

“I’ll let it slide,” he says. “I woke up in a good mood.”

“You’re basically always in a good mood,” you respond.

Zach can understand why you’d think that. It’s because he’s never been in a bad mood around you. Life is bright and easy and rich when you’re around. And it’s been even richer since he overheard what you said this morning.

“We passed a waterfall while you slept on the way up here,” Zach says. “Would you want to make a stop to check out the view?”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing away the reminder of what you’d dreamt about during that nap. “Sounds cool.”

.❅❅❅.

Crystal blue water rushes down in an endless torrent, crashing down to the surface with a dull roar. You’re in awe of how ethereal the waterfall is, white mist bubbling over the stream bordered by snowy land. The snow is still falling gently, the atmosphere cool but not cold, as if the earth is apologizing for the windstorm last night.

You and Zach stand at a height behind a railing, his car parked a few feet away on the side of the road. He purposely slowed down so your friends would drive far enough ahead to not notice you’d made a stop.

Now that he’s here, he’s painfully nervous. Worst case scenario, you’re not interested in dating him, and it’ll lead to, like Chase said, the most awkward car ride ever. He’s sure the remaining hour journey back to campus would feel like ten hours if this goes wrong.

But he’s always been optimistic and last night as he fell asleep with you in his arms, he thought back to every moment in your friendship when he had a spark of hope that he had a place in your heart like you do in his.

Over the months he’s known you, he got into the habit of trying to dull the spark, reminding himself of how much he had to lose if you didn’t return his feelings.

Deep down, he always knew he’d eventually give in; he has so much love to give you and the thought of keeping it contained when you might want it was getting harder to bear.

You could break his heart if you don’t want him, but it’d break his heart even more if you do and he doesn’t do anything about it.

“Wow,” you say in a whisper, taking a photo of the waterfall with your phone. “I shouldn’t post this, should I? Our friends might be mad that we didn't include them.”

“I think they’ll understand,” Zach replies. “I told Chase… uh…”

You lower your phone, looking up at him, unable to stifle your smirk because of how cute he looks from the way the breeze has messed up his hair. The road behind you is clear and quiet, the mid-morning sun offering mild warmth.

“You told Chase…?” you say.

Zach licks his lips, his mouth gently opening before he finds the words. He shifts to face you, eyes searching your pretty features, heart in his throat.

“I told him I wanted to be alone with you,” he says. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop this morning, I swear… but I… I do like you. Back.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You look down at the snowy concrete, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I heard you right… right?” Zach mumbles.

“Back,” you repeat softly, finding the bravery to look back up at him. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

A sweet, honeyed smile grows on his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the exact way you’d dreamt he would. How you always wanted him to, but convinced yourself he wouldn’t.

“I didn’t tolerate you acting like we were dating,” he says. “I liked it and I felt bad for liking it because it wasn’t real.”

You mirror his smile, your heart full of love and joy and the comfort that he’s been giving you since the day you met him.

“I was just doing what I always wanted to do,” you confess. His eyes glint with endearment as he brings a hand up to gently cup your face.

“I really enjoyed being your pretend boyfriend,” Zach says, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes. “Can I be your real one now, though?”

You sigh softly, nodding as he stares at you in nothing short of infatuation. He leans closer by a half-inch, silently testing if you’re okay with it.

You close the distance and your lips meet with a sweet, gentle tenderness like they’ve done this before. You pull back, remembering that they have.

“Can we count that as our first kiss?” you say.

“Absolutely,” he chuckles.

››› one week later

You’re stepping out of the kitchen in Zach’s apartment, tightly gripping the tray of six mugs filled with hot cocoa.

“Whoa,” Zach says, quickly standing up from his spot on the floor when you enter the living room. “Careful.”

“Her concussion is gone, man,” Chase says. “You have the test results to prove it. She can handle carrying a tray.”

“He’s helping her because he’s a gentleman,” Esha states. “Do you know what that word means or are you committed to being a caveman forever?”

“Caveman,” he repeats with a grin.

“Don’t give him any,” Esha mutters. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

You laugh as you set the tray down on the coffee table with Zach’s help. You settle in your spot on the couch as Zach sits on the floor in front of you again, tucked in between your legs, the insides of your knees pressed against his shoulders.

“I have to say, I called it,” Maggie says as she gazes between you and Zach with a big smile on her face. “Tell everyone how I called it.”

“You called it,” you say, putting your hands on your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, gently squeezing.

Her eyes dart to Esha and you share a knowing grin. You’d had private conversations about how if you and Zach were always a little obvious, Esha and Chase are the definition of the word.

“Ow,” Malek snips, holding the steaming mug away from his face. “I burned myself.”

“It’s hot cocoa, Malek,” Chase says. “It’s literally in the name.”

“Really good, though,” Malek says, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you laugh.

The tray is eventually littered with empty mugs and you stand to clear away the mess, your heart glowing with the feeling it always has when you’re surrounded by your friends.

You’re scrubbing a soapy sponge over a mug when you hear Zach’s voice behind you.

“You don’t have to wash anything.”

You look over your shoulder, smiling.

“It’s okay,” you say. He approaches you, hugging you from behind as you stand at the sink, surrounding you in his warmth as your friends talk a room away.

He always enjoyed moments of privacy with you, but since that day by the waterfall, every second with you is more than perfect.

“So?” you say. “Did you get your wish? Was the cocoa life-changing?”

“Ask me again what you asked on the way up to the cabin,” he murmurs. “What I want most in the world.”

“What do you want most–”

“You,” he interrupts. You laugh breathily as he kisses the side of your neck. “I just couldn’t answer honestly the first time you asked. But it was always you.”

You turn the faucet off and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face as he leaves kisses on your neck and holds you tighter.

It was always him, too.

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only). 

“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.” 

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.” 

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language. 

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.” 

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees. 

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop. 

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it? 

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam. 

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him. 

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.” 

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction. 

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff. 

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband. 

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley. 

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school. 

Dear Jeon family,  Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.  It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.  Sincerely,  Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless. 

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life. 

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.” 

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school. 

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering. 

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache. 

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes. 

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands. 

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question. 

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person. 

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend. 

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?  

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth. 

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”  “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”  “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh” 

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod. 

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month. 

“What do you think about this guy?” 

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.” 

“Okay, then what about this one?” 

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.” 

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?” 

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?” 

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app. 

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority. 

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines. 

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes. 

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice. 

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.” 

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations? 

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.” 

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence. 

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.” 

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.” 

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss. 

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again. 

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is? 

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that. 

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle. 

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are. 

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time. 

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen. 

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh. 

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring. 

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).” 

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him? 

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know. 

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone. 

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk. 

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion. 

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency. 

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet. 

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates. 

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.” 

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes. 

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood. 

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old. 

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her. 

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart. 

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?” 

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body. 

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter. 

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again. 

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body. 

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right. 

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution? 

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t. 

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips. 

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him. 

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers. 

How the hell is he going to raise a child? 

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.  

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy. 

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness. 

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there. 

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek. 

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically. 

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really. 

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides. 

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation. 

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.” 

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?” 

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features. 

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?” 

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.” 

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips. 

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.” 

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word. 

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands. 

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?” 

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.” 

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice. 

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks. 

Dammit. He’s cute. 

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip. 

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head. 

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.” 

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single. 

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes. 

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.” 

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news. 

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment. 

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with. 

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy. 

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?” 

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled. 

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness. 

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal. 

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it. 

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short. 

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched. 

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance? 

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions. 

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.” 

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.” 

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real. 

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?” 

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins. 

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the  board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.” 

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?” 

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.” 

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself. 

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit. 

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.” 

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo. 

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー” 

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?” 

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.” 

“y/n!” 

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears. 

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag. 

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together. 

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.” 

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress. 

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief. 

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.” 

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts. 

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.” 

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!” 

Ouch. That hurts. 

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses. 

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes. 

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano. 

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.  

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man? 

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint. 

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing. 

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him. 

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act. 

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!” 

“And he’s hot!” 

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later. 

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about. 

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias. 

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this. 

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it. 

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase. 

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison. 

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile. 

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close. 

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward. 

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes. 

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk. 

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose. 

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head. 

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.” 

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize. 

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength. 

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.” 

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile. 

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his. 

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action. 

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. 

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close. 

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles. 

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. 

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.” 

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out. 

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.” 

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.” 

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks. 

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle. 

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?” 

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.” 

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought. 

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.” 

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question. 

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation. 

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you. 

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better. 

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions. 

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?” 

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?” 

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had. 

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe. 

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum. 

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core). 

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever. 

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms. 

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true. 

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.  

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day. 

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange. 

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required. 

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does. 

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins. 

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours. 

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating. 

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.” 

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.” 

After all, this is just pretend. 

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner. 

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!” 

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is. 

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire. 

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul. 

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy. 

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table. 

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you. 

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-” 

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.” 

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system. 

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family. 

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy. 

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines. 

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump. 

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest. 

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept. 

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.” 

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?” 

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother. 

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.” 

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does. 

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall. 

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.” 

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night. 

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.” 

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book. 

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff. 

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?” 

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room. 

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos. 

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?” 

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.” 

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.” 

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip. 

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand. 

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives. 

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway. 

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts. 

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.” 

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine. 

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo. 

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire? 

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw. 

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board. 

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes. 

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.” 

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips. 

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder. 

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.” 

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him. 

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you. 

As it seems, fate has other plans. 

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there. 

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself. 

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows. 

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.” 

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter. 

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to. 

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice. 

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. 

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed. 

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-” 

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks. 

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl. 

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises. 

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table. 

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.” 

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires. 

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.” 

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying. 

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside. 

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.” 

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about? 

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you. 

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning. 

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?” 

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears. 

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts. 

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back. 

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.” 

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks. 

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-” 

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night? 

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it. 

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again. 

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception). 

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.” 

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back. 

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?” 

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned. 

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained. 

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no? 

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.” 

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again. 

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted. 

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.” 

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?” 

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him. 

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores. 

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night. 

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders. 

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.” 

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.” 

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top. 

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference. 

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now. 

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.” 

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.” 

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?” 

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day. 

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks. 

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction. 

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn. 

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life. 

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast. 

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right? 

 “Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream. 

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries. 

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.” 

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?” 

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away. 

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe. 

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does. 

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely. 

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle. 

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?” 

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share. 

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.” 

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?” 

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?” 

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle. 

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?” 

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.” 

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers. 

This is still practice… right? 

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment. 

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly. 

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful. 

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him. 

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush. 

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest. 

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?” 

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.” 

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you. 

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic. 

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you. 

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action. 

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want. 

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work. 

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper. 

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.” 

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn. 

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day. 

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Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.  My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.  I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.  Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.  But lately, being with him brings me to life.  Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.  Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other. 

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Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.  Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.  Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.  Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.  But it’s not true.  I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.  I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.  It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.  There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem. 

Jeongguk is late. 

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong. 

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most? 

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat. 

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends. 

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face. 

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking. 

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay. 

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together. 

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place? 

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.” 

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.” 

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles. 

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out. 

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.” 

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace. 

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry. 

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently  move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband. 

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator. 

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago. 

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him. 

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring. 

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time. 

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape. 

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting. 

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.” 

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm. 

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?” 

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?” 

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it. 

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes. 

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that. 

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools. 

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing. 

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand. 

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship? 

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen. 

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while. 

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love. 

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination. 

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?” 

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question. 

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks. 

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.” 

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs. 

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him. 

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.” 

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention? 

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess. 

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk. 

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex. 

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?” 

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…” 

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-” 

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort. 

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink. 

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.” 

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice. 

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.  

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away. 

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay. 

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care. 

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better. 

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors. 

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him. 

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room. 

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom. 

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face. 

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment. 

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?” 

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?” 

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine. 

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.  

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes. 

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck. 

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.” 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders. 

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.” 

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters. 

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out. 

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate. 

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.” 

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.” 

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek. 

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming. 

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself. 

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you. 

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?” 

“M- maybe we could hold hands?” 

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders. 

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.” 

“Can I suggest something?” 

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.” 

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?” 

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.” 

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth. 

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice. 

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart. 

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips. 

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading. 

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers. 

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were. 

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.” 

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control. 

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips. 

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.” 

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him. 

So you do. 

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment. 

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes. 

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips. 

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions. 

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.” 

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance. 

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?” 

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.” 

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do. 

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more. 

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to? 

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail. 

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips. 

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined. 

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him? 

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…” 

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.” 

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection. 

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?” 

“C- can I?” you stutter. 

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.” 

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together. 

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.” 

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges. 

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away. 

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.” 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him. 

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.” 

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs. 

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through. 

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs. 

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost. 

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist. 

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor. 

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off. 

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless. 

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest. 

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?” 

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his. 

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom. 

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.” 

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body. 

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound. 

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.” 

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides. 

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.  

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off. 

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body. 

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours. 

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate. 

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional. 

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you. 

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love. 

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light. 

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.” 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting. 

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock. 

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste. 

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.  

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.” 

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him. 

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source. 

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before? 

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third. 

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers. 

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt. 

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody. 

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline. 

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head. 

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?” 

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch. 

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock. 

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.” 

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses. 

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur. 

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-” 

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt. 

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans. 

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy. 

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure. 

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires. 

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.” 

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls. 

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.” 

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife. 

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him. 

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses. 

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him. 

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch. 

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. 

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.” 

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion. 

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion. 

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere. 

“How’s it, angel?” 

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth. 

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. 

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg. 

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.” 

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess. 

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. 

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess. 

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now. 

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow. 

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours. 

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high. 

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.” 

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions. 

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go. 

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length. 

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all. 

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four. 

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you. 

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?” 

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life. 

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel. 

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind. 

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?” 

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference. 

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives. 

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school? 

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family. 

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire). 

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment. 

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school. 

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-” 

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?” 

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper. 

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.” 

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table. 

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay. 

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask. 

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?” 

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement. 

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.” 

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills. 

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action. 

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace. 

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room. 

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle. 

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it. 

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.” 

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-” 

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you? 

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.” 

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?” 

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction. 

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did. 

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter. 

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey. 

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble. 

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

From: [email protected] Subject: email? really?

Dear Gojo Satoru,  Clearly you can’t take a hint. Let me spell it out for you. I. Am. Busy. Leave. Me. Alone. Unhappily,  Your girlfriend P.S. Do not call yourself ‘big-dicked daddy.’ It upsets me greatly.

From: [email protected] Subject: keep being mean to me please im close

Dear adorable goth baby,  You’re so hot when you’re being mean. I already know you’re frowning in that cute way that makes me want to smother you in kisses and you’re rolling your eyes so hard NGH! I already said I’m sorry.  Please give me another chance. I’m so damn bored I started playing spin the bottle alone in my room. I made out with that picture of you sleeping with drool down your chin. Picture You was even getting handsy. ‘Down girl!’ I said. ‘Bad!’ Stay tight,  Toru (not Gojo Satoru, that’s like a slur coming from you, very triggering stuff) P.S. I am your big-dicked daddy tho I’m confused?

From: [email protected] Subject: shut up

Satoru,  I gave you multiple chances when I asked you to stop and give me at least 5 hours to study before we go out for dinner and I entertain you, you giant freaking child. But no, you just had to hound me with your dick, like I was supposed to be dickmatised and persuaded to drop everything at your beck and call.  Fuck, I’m getting mad all over again.  Stop emailing me. You’re gonna see me at 7pm for our date anyways. You can last 4 more hours. Yours not for long,  Girl who just wants to pass

From: [email protected] Subject: my bad bro

Sweetiepie :( I’m sorry.  I thought it was gonna motivate you to work hard. Pwease forgive me. Pwease? Towu is vewy vewy sowwy.  In fact, I’m so so so sorry, I’ll pay for dinner tonight. Scout’s honour. Asking for mercy and forgiveness,  Your boyfriend no matter what

From: [email protected] Subject: dinner? that the best you can offer?

You always pay for dinner. Last time I offered, you damn near wrestled me in the middle of the restaurant so you could get your card out first. We’re still banned from there, remember? Btw, you were never a Scout, don’t play with me.

From: [email protected] Subject: you gotta address me and sign off!

Dear love of my life who doesn’t understand how email etiquette works,  Of course I always pay for dinner — you’re broke and your family is destitute, I remind you lovingly. But even if you were as rich as me, or even richer (which isn’t possible, not to flex), I would still pay every single time. It’s the least I can do for reparations for the violence committed by my gender against yours. Plus, that restaurant sucked anyway — the owner is problematic towards immigrants and the servers don’t even know if the meat is locally and ethically sourced, like hello??? In the big 2025?!? How’s studying going? Do you need a snack or a smoothie to boost you?  I can drop by. Promise I won’t linger. I just didn’t see a purchase on my card for breakfast or lunch. Please don’t starve. If I can’t watch your ass jiggle when I hit it from the back, I’m gonna be devastated.  Yours most sincerely,  Satoru P.S. You have to be a Scout to say Scout’s Honour? Crazyyyyyy

From: [email protected] Subject: so fucking bossy omg

Dear Satoru (happy now?), Please don’t remind me of my family’s shortcomings. You know I like to pretend I came from a normal background. And stop being more woke than me. It’s hot. Studying’s fine, I guess. I think I forgot how to study. I’ve missed a lot of content too. If a certain someone hadn’t been clinging to me so tightly every morning, maybe I wouldn’t be so behind. God, you make my life so hard.  A smoothie and pastry would be lovely, actually. I can’t be bothered leaving my room to get some food. Just drop it off outside and disappear by the time I open the door — if I see even a glimmer of white hair, I’m going to freak.  Thanks. Love begrudgingly, A girl who’s gonna fail her exam

From: [email protected] Subject: you're not gonna fail

Dear cutie,  I don’t cling to you that hard. You’re dramatic. I wonder where you got that from. And last I checked, we have a safeword you can use anytime to get me away from between your legs if you really wanted to get to class. But I like our game where you pretend you’re not just as obsessed with me as I am with you (I know you get all hot and bothered when I reference Marx, dirty girl) Food’s outside babe. The line was stupid long and I ran into Fushiguro — remember the guy I told you has the highest body count on campus? He’s in a relationship now and he’s so pussywhipped lmaoooo Couldn’t be me. Hoping you’ll stuff your face and get all the brain power you need,  Satoru

From: [email protected] Subject: not impressed

I told you to disappear before I could see you.  You didn’t have to kiss me and hump my leg you animal. My neighbours were NOT happy with the pornographic noises you made, asshole.  Yeah, I remember Toji. Cool dude. Always wearing gym wear no matter the weather and for some reason hates you. Don’t make fun of him for being loyal and loving to his girlfriend. You’re probably so much worse. I envy his girlfriend. She probably doesn’t have to put up with a yapper who spams her with dick pics. Thank you for the food though. Very appreciated. What I didn’t appreciate, however, was the number and the smiley face on my drink. I already told you, if someone tries to hit on you, bark at them and tell them you have a girlfriend you worship endlessly. 

From: [email protected] Subject: EMAIL. ETIQUETTE. COME ON.

Look: Dear angry girlfriend I do in fact worship endlessly and beyond,  I’m sorry I didn’t follow your exact orders but I desperately needed a kiss from my girl. If I don’t get my daily dose, I wilt, like a rose. You know this.  And disrespectfully, f your neighbours. It wasn’t anything they hadn't heard from us before. Sensitive ears ahhh About Fushiguro — he does not hate me. Why does everyone say that?  We’re actually besties. We’re like dumb and dumber, but dumber is him obvi. Plus, once he gets some shots in him, he’s super in love with me. I get more over the clothes action from him than from you lol You never need to thank me for feeding you. I fear that’s like bare minimum. Get those standards up girl. Oh and sorry about the drink. I didn’t even notice. Leave it outside your door and I’ll get you a new one. I’ll even make a scene and call the manager over. Maybe I’ll buy the store and get everyone fired. Just give me the word babe. Yours forever,  Satoru 

From: [email protected] Subject: YOU ARE EXHAUSTING

Dear my sweetest, most frustrating boyfriend, Fine, I’ll forgive the kiss (I might have needed it too). And yeah, f my neighbours because the guy on my left loves playing Doctor Who Season 8 on repeat and on full volume every night like clockwork. It’s not even the best season! Forget about the drink. Just don’t ever go back there again. Number and smiley face aside, the drink is abysmal and tastes like bog water. Pastry is great though. 10/10 You’d really make a scene for me? Yours occasionally,  No longer starving girlfriend

From: [email protected] Subject: awww I knew you loved me really

Dear the Morticia to my Gomez,  I’d make a scene for you at the drop of a hat. I’d serenade you in malls, on campus, in a Michelin star restaurant, and in a lecture. Heck, I’d yell ‘BOMB’ in an airport if you asked me to – just maybe not an airport we frequent. There’s quite literally nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If you didn’t know that already, then I’m not as great of a boyfriend as I thought I was. I will remedy that immediately, my goddess eternal. Obsessedly yours,  Your husband in every way but legally (we can fix that)

From: [email protected] Subject: ugh

Dear Toru,  Stop being sweet. It’s disgusting. Come inside already. I’m done pretending I’m getting anything from the textbooks. I’m only giving myself a headache.

From: [email protected] Subject: woahhhh

You can tell I’m outside???

From: [email protected] Subject: you're loud as hell

I can hear you giggling at my emails, Satoru. You’re probably sitting on the floor, leaning against my door. 

From: [email protected] Subject: just got shivers

Damnnnn are you sure you’re not a witch?

From: [email protected] Subject: well?

Are you coming in or what?

From: [email protected] Subject: yippeeeee

Okay okay, yes I am. LOVE YOU BABY <3

June 2025

Appearing with a six-month-old in your arms at your best friend’s daughter’s first birthday party wasn’t in your plans. How did you end up in this position? Well, the guy you’ve been hooking up with, Jungkook, got you pregnant on a very heated night, and you’re now parents to a beautiful little girl, Nova.

Your eyes land on Jungkook, who’s holding your daughter in his arms while discussing with your best friend’s husband, Jin. An inevitable smile grows on your face when you see him with Nova, a vision you’ve grown fond of over the past six months.

The chatter of the party hums around you, and your eyes leave Jungkook to look around. The kids are playing with wooden toys in the living room, and the adults are balancing paper plates and half-finished conversations.

You try to blend in, pretending this is all normal, and that you aren’t walking in with the biggest plot twist of your life clinging to your shirt like a sleepy koala.

Your best friend, Darim, spots you from across the room before joining you. She wraps an arm around your shoulder without hesitation, as if the two of you haven’t spent the last year navigating motherhood side by side, swapping tips, tears, and texts in the middle of the night when your babies couldn’t let you sleep.

“Seems like you’re handling this co-parenthood thing like champions,” she says, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you answer, your gaze moving from your best friend to your baby daddy.

“Told you that everything would go well,” she adds before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Darim knows everything. She was the first person you told about the pregnancy, the one who listened to you crying with zero judgment, which you were really grateful for. Having a baby with Jungkook, the guy who was never supposed to be anything serious, was absolutely scary.

And speaking of the devil, Jungkook joins you with Nova in his arms, and you can’t help but notice her favorite stuffed bunny sticking out of his back pocket. That bunny is your absolute savior whenever she cries like she’s being killed. He gives you that crooked smile, the one that complicates everything.  

And as you watch him with Nova in his arms, you can’t help thinking about how you got here—how one unexpected night turned into pregnancy, into co-parenthood, and into whatever this is now.

So let’s get back in time, to over a year ago, to get back to the beginning.

A year ago – May 2024

Lately, you haven’t been feeling extra well. A lot of nausea, food aversion, and a lot of sleeping, and on top of that, everything smells bad.

Up until now, you haven’t been too concerned about it, thinking it was probably the flu or something like that. But yesterday, you noticed how sore your breasts were and how bigger they got, which instantly got you worried. Inevitably, you checked your period tracking app. 

The last time you got your period was two months ago.

Following the app, you should have ovulated six weeks ago, which oddly coincides with that one wild night with Jungkook, the man you’ve been hooking up with for almost a year. That infamous night, you both got carried away and didn’t use protection.

The next day, you ran to the closest pharmacy to take the morning-after pill. There was no way you’d carry the child of the guy you barely knew anything about.

But today, you’re left with the doubt of an eventual pregnancy, even though you’re convinced it’s not possible. The emergency contraception should have worked, and if it didn’t, you’re definitely going to sue the entire world.

So now you’re currently putting the groceries in the fridge while waiting for the result of the pregnancy test you took minutes ago. You’re absolutely not worried, convinced that you aren’t pregnant, but it’s best to be a hundred percent certain.

Once the groceries are put away, you head back to the bathroom, grabbing the test. For a couple of seconds, you stare blinkingly at the test, the world around you disappearing completely.

The pink line sharpens in your vision, and your brain refuses to understand at first, because it can’t. It can’t be true. It simply feels unreal. This is not possible. You can’t be pregnant.

Suddenly, your entire body starts shaking, before a strangled cry escapes you. The tears form in your eyes as reality violently hits you, and the weight inside your chest crushes you completely. Your vision gets blurry, making it impossible for you to see anything properly.

Everything is collapsing around you, and you feel completely powerless. However, your mind races through every impossible question at once: How? Why? What now?

For a moment, lost in your despair, you totally forget about Jungkook, the father, but as questions start to race through your mind, you can’t help but realize that you’ll have to tell him. This human growing inside is as much his as yours. 

You press a hand to your mouth as you really realize the extent of what this means. This seems like a fucking nightmare—one you desperately want to wake up from, but it seems like it’s impossible. The tears ravage your face while you cry with your entire soul.

You sit down on the floor, back pressed against the wall, while you just let yourself cry. After what feels like eternity, you stop crying and clean your face as you stand up. You gather any remaining strength left in your soul to cook and fall asleep after eating on your couch with a heavy heart.

The next day

Even though you desired to stay at home and not interact with the world for at least a month, you had to work. You did the absolute minimum, barely talked to your coworkers, and disappeared in your own little bubble. Your mind was constantly drifting to the little life growing inside you, and each time you’d do it, your hands would instinctively rest on your belly.

When you arrived back home, you truly believed you’d just remain alone in your own bubble, but you were damn wrong. Darim had been calling you nonstop since the morning, but you weren’t in the mood to speak with anybody. You felt a bit guilty since she was very close to her due date, but you just needed some time alone to process the news. 

Nevertheless, someone rings at your door like a damn maniac. No need to be a genius to know who it is. Darim. When you see her face in the intercom, you simply open the door, letting her storm inside your apartment.

“Do you want to kill me before I give birth?” she says before even greeting you. “I’m due in a month, show me some pity and pick up that damn phone.”

“Hello to you, too, Rimy,” you tell her while closing the door.

“There’s no ‘hello’ for you, yn,” she angrily says. “You don’t deserve it.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed, but honestly, deep down, you’re happy she’s here.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I just needed some time alone.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Since when?”

Darim is your childhood best friend; she’s been by your side since you were like five. You’ve done everything with her, and you’re inseparable. Her husband, Jin, sometimes still struggles to share his wife with you—or maybe you’re the one sharing her with him, still to be thoroughly considered.

“Since I’m not feeling well,” you reply before falling dramatically on your couch.

Your best friend suddenly seems concerned, her hands caressing her huge belly as she slowly sits down. Now, you feel extra remorseful for worrying her when she’s at the end of her very much wanted pregnancy.

“What happened?” she says, her eyes not once looking away from you.

You don’t want to say out loud that you’re pregnant because it will definitely and permanently make it real. But you’re left with no other choice. You have to say it. She has to know, and eventually, you’ll have to break it to Jungkook. 

You take a deep breath, close your eyes before opening them again, and finally say, “I’m pregnant.” 

For a moment, there’s a heavy silence between you while she blinks several times, her gaze shifting from your face to your non-existent bump. She definitely looks surprised, and you’re damn scared about her reaction.

“How?” is all she says when she breaks the silence.

“No need to explain to you how I got pregnant,” you ironically say while pointing to her very big baby bump.

She rolls her eyes, “Obviously, I know how one gets pregnant, but who…” She seems to realize suddenly who the father is. “Don’t tell me that it’s Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” you nod as you speak.

Jungkook isn’t a bad guy. Actually, you’d say that he’s a good one, but you don’t really know him. You just meet over sex, do your own thing, and then get back to your life. He’s for sure absolutely sweet before and after your steamy and hot session. He always makes sure that you’re good with whatever is going on, cracks a joke or two when you are nervous, and always takes good care of you before leaving.

However, there is a lot of unknown about him. Like, what does he do in his spare time, what is his favorite color, how many siblings does he have, what makes him happy, what doesn’t, and you can keep going on for hours. The few things you know about him are his name, age, profession, and home address. That’s it.

And now, you’re having a fucking child with him…

“What happened to the ‘we always use protection’?” she asks.

“We always do, but there was one time…”

She heavily sighs. “Yn, for fuck’s sake…”

“Let me finish, Rimy,” you cut her off, and she nods. “Once, too caught up in the moment, we forgot about protection, but I took the morning-after pill the next day.”

“It clearly didn’t work,” she mumbles.

“No, really?” you ironically ask. “I don’t understand how this happened.”

She takes a deep breath as she strokes her prominent belly, trying to comfort who knows who. Herself? The baby? You?    

“Do you know what you want to do?” she asks.

Well, you haven’t properly thought about the after. You’ve been trying so far to digest this news.

“Not yet,” you confess. “But I surely need to discuss this with Jungkook.”

Right now, it feels like there are three options: keeping the baby, aborting, and giving the baby up for adoption. None of them seems right, but you definitely need to consider them all.

“For sure.”

Darim struggled her entire life to have a baby with Jin. This one is their miracle. She lost two before this one, went through rounds of IVF, and you know how hard it has been for her. You’ve held her when she was crying with despair because she couldn’t have what she always desired.

And you, you didn’t even try, and you’re now carrying a baby with a guy you barely know. If you could, you’d hand this baby to her right away. She’s the one worthy of becoming a mother. Not you.

“Even at thirty, you still manage to put yourself in fucked up situations,” she says while smiling.

You chuckle because she couldn’t be more right. You’ve spent your life doing nonsense and always ending up in situations where your parents could only scold you. You’ve given them a lot of work.

“Nothing new,” you smile at her.

You’ve always put your life at risk since you can remember. It’s like you’re not scared of anything while still being scared at the same time—not sure if this makes any sense. But you always wondered if it was related to the fact that you were adopted. It’s like nothing could be worse than being abandoned by your own parents.

“Look, I’m here for you, no matter what you decide to do, okay?” she says while patting your shoulder. “And you definitely need to start by telling Jungkook. Even if you barely know each other, he deserves to know that he might become a dad.”

You couldn’t agree more with her. It wouldn’t be fair to keep him in the dark, not knowing that a little human exists thanks to him. So the moment Darim left your place, you texted him. Nothing that would imply that you’re pregnant. It’s a simple ‘Can you come over?’

It’s not unusual for you to say that. Whenever you need to relax or need a good fuck, you’d just tell him to come over. So that text is far from being suspicious. Seconds later, he replies that he’s on his way.

You think about all the possible ways to reveal it, but nothing seems as great as the simple ‘I’m pregnant’. There’s no way to make it sound better.

It only takes him a couple of minutes before he shows up at your door. The moment you pull it open, a smile stretches across his soft features, and you honestly just melt instantly.

Jungkook has always been the hot, sinfully handsome type, the kind of man women glance at twice and then complain about because no one should look that good. And yet, somehow, unbelievably, he’s spent the last year choosing to only sleep with you.

He leans against the doorframe, casual in a way that makes your knees threaten to fail you. In the soft hallway light, every detail seems sharper: his sharp jaw, the curve of his mouth, and the slope of his chest beneath his shirt. His body looks like it was carved by God himself, and it even seems like He took his time sculpting all the strong lines and warm skin of Jungkook’s body.

And beyond that insane body, there’s a man who looks like a walking green flag, the kind of man mothers dream their daughters will bring home. But then, again, you might be wrong since you don’t really know this man.

“Hi,” you say, offering him a small smile while gesturing for him to step inside. “Come in.”

Jungkook nods before getting inside your place. “Hi,” he says as he turns around to face you after you closed the door. “All good?”

You don’t really reply, only looking at your hands that suddenly seem more interesting than the man in front of you.

“Yn,” he murmurs, moving nearer as his fingers gently lift your chin so you meet his gaze.

The tears inevitably start appearing as you look at him. You don’t feel brave enough to tell him about this fucking situation you’re in, but you can’t do otherwise. You can’t deprive him of knowing the existence of his child. That would be too cruel.

“What’s going on?” he asks with concern.

As the tears roll down your face, he cleans them with his thumbs, trying to suppress the painful image displayed in front of him.

“I’m…” you try to speak, but it seems impossible.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asks with evident concern.

You shake your head. “It’s not that…”

You close your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather yourself. He needs to know.

“Take your time,” his thumb strokes your cheek before he presses a gentle kiss on your forehead.

How can someone be this sweet? He is only making this even harder. You don’t even dare to look at him, too scared that you’ll chicken out. 

“You remember the night we forgot to use protection?” you finally break the silence.

“Yeah,” he says. “How could I? You looked like a fucking goddess.”

Jungkook had a job-related event—one where he had to bring a plus one. He didn’t know who to choose, so he invited you. Since it meant free drinks and food, you accepted it.

That night, he looked so damn well in a suit. You couldn’t even keep your eyes off him. He was like a walking snack you were waiting to eat.

Throughout the event, he kept complimenting you and really talking very dirty to you. It was hard to survive with him telling you in detail what he’d do once you’d be alone. You didn’t even know how you made it to the end of the event.

He drove you back home, and since you were both horny as fuck after his intense teasing, you simply had sex. The rest didn’t matter. You didn’t even realize he wasn’t using a condom until he came deep inside you. It was too late.

“That’s not true,” you chuckle.

“Well, if you don’t believe me, maybe you remember how fucking hard I was…”

“Jungkook,” you playfully hit his arm while laughing, and you open your eyes to look at him.

“I’m just stating a fact,” he says with the biggest smile on his face. “We even forgot about everything else when we arrived here.”

You nod, but you get lost in his gaze. Even though he’s teasing you, the worry in his eyes hasn’t disappeared. You’ve never really seen him like this before.

“It’s true,” you admit, “and I even had to rush to the pharmacy the next day for the Plan B.”

He nods, and now your heart hammers in your chest. You’re about to reveal to this man that both your lives are about to change completely, and you don’t know how he will react to that. 

“But it didn’t work,” you finally admit. 

Jungkook instantly frowns, as if this seems completely impossible, and just like Darim, he doesn’t say anything for a moment, which crushes your heart completely. This silence is absolutely unbearable.

“It didn’t work, in like, you’re pregnant?” he finally says.

You simply nod, not sure of what you can add to his question.

“But how?” he asks with confusion. “It should have worked.”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess we’ll have to wait until I see my gynecologist to understand this.”

The famous Plan B only delays the ovulation, that’s what the pharmacist explains, and you knew that, you’re not stupid. But somehow, it didn’t work. There might be a reason behind that, and you’ll have to discuss it with your gynecologist. She’ll be the best to provide you with an answer.

“Okay,” he simply says. “And do you already know what you want to do?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I just found out yesterday, and I haven’t had the time yet to think about it properly.”

Jungkook pushes you in his embrace, catching you completely off guard. This is highly unexpected.

“Sorry, I wasn’t there when you found out.”

His words melt your heart instantly, and the tears flood again.

“But I’ll be now,” he continues. “I’ll stay by your side no matter what decision you take. If you keep the baby, I’ll come to every appointment, I’ll show up at birth, and I’ll never let you and the baby go.”

The tears stream faster, making it impossible to hold back the sobs you’ve been trying to swallow.

“And if you decide not to keep the baby, I’ll hold your hand,” he whispers against your ear. “You’re not alone, I’m right here.”

Now, you cry in his arms, gripping his shoulders like you’re holding for dear life. In all the scenarios you imagined, you didn’t consider this one. The one where Jungkook doesn’t even flinch when he says he’ll stay by your side. The one where he doesn’t even ask for some time to think. He just stays.

Ten days later

Today, you have your first appointment with your gynecologist, whom you called in panic after discovering your unexpected pregnancy. When you called, you informed the receptionist that you believed you were six weeks pregnant, but it needed to be confirmed.

You’re nervously tapping your feet, scared of this appointment. A big part of you expects to hear from the doctor that it was a false positive pregnancy test, but the reasonable part of you knows that this isn’t what you’ll be told.

Jungkook’s huge hand rests on your knee, trying to reassure and comfort you. “You’re stressing out every single person in this room,” he whispers to your ear.

Instantly, your eyes look around, noticing all the expectant mamas and the other people nervously looking at you. It wasn’t your intention to pass your stress onto the other persons, but you’re so wrapped up in your own worries that you didn’t notice anything.

“Sorry,” you mumble to all of them.

The one sitting next to you offers you a timid smile. She doesn’t seem pregnant, but somehow, you can tell that she understands you.

“Is it your first pregnancy?” she asks.

You nod before smiling back at her. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” she replies, “but don’t worry, it’s normal. I was a total wreck when I had the first appointment for my first pregnancy.”

It is reassuring to hear that because the women around you didn’t quite experience this level of nervousness for their first pregnancy. Darim always wished to become a mother, so the news of her pregnancy delighted her. And your mom never got to carry a baby; all her kids are adopted.

But that doesn’t mean that they haven’t been trying to reassure you as much as they can. They’ve seen your distress, which breaks their hearts, and you’re absolutely grateful to have them in your life.

“Can I ask you how many kids you have?” 

A bright smile appears on her face, “So far three, but with my husband, we’d like to try for a fourth one.”

It’s impressive, but you’ve grown up in a huge family. You’re the youngest of six children, all adopted, of course. Your house has always been so full, and as the youngest, you’ve always been the perfect victim for your five oldest siblings.

“Good luck!” you tell her. “I have five older siblings, and we gave a lot of work to my mom.”

“I can only imagine,” she giggles. “It’s already tough with three, but it’s in a good way. I wouldn’t trade them for anything else in the world.”

Those have been the exact same words your mom has been saying every day for the past thirty-four years when she adopted your two oldest brothers, Taehyung and Jimin.

Your family is composed of Taehyung, Jimin, Christopher, Lena, and Minho. Christopher and Lena were adopted at birth, just like you—the three of you abandoned even before being born, but your stories are different.

Christopher’s mom was a simple teenager who couldn’t afford to raise him. Lena’s parents were poor and couldn’t keep her. And you, your father’s family were assholes and never accepted your existence, leaving your parents with no other choice but to give you up for adoption.

For your remaining brothers, the stories are a bit darker and sadder. Jimin and Taehyung, who are twins, were adopted when they were one after their mom passed away, and they had no other family. And finally, Minho was taken away from his drug-addicted parents when he was four months old.

Minho is a year older than you, and in less than a year, your parents adopted both him and you. There were like eight months in between your adoptions, and your parents never hid how difficult it was.

Unfortunately, Minho’s mom was taking drugs while pregnant, which made him a drug addict at birth, and throughout the four months she had him, she was giving him drugs mixed with milk to calm him.

Between a newborn, an addicted baby, and four young children from three to six years, it wasn’t easy. But they never regretted it. They loved you all equally, no matter how heavy your pasts were.

“You’ll see your worries will fade away the moment you hold that tiny human in your arms.”

The words settle deeper than the woman probably intends. You’ve heard them before. Your mother said something similar once, years ago, recalling the first time she held you and your siblings—how every fear she’d carried about raising six children vanished in that single moment. Not because the future suddenly looked easy, but because she knew she’d find a way.

She couldn’t change how your stories began, but she chose to shape everything that followed. As she always said, “Life may have failed you at the start, but I would never let it fail you again.”

“I hope so,” you tell her.

You don’t get to pursue the conversation as the gynecologist calls your name. Both you and Jungkook stand up, and he grabs your hand, trying to keep reassuring you. His gesture definitely warms your heart and eases its fast pumping. No matter what, you feel thankful that he’s the one who got you pregnant, and not some random asshole.  

Once safe inside her office, you take a seat on the chairs before her desk. The second Jungkook’s hand leaves yours, you swear your heart is about to explode. His warmth leaves an emptiness behind, which you absolutely need right now.

“Hello,” Dr Kang offers you the most affectionate smile you’ve ever seen so far.

Both you and Jungkook reply to her with a small smile.

“My secretary noted that you had a positive pregnancy test a week ago, and from what you described, you’d be seven weeks along now.”

You nod, your feet tapping once again nervously, but Jungkook instantly rests his hand on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your covered skin.

“Okay, so usually we don’t do an ultrasound in a first appointment, but since you’re already seven weeks, we will do one to check if everything seems right,” she explains. 

“I have a question,” you say with a shaky voice. “Right after the…”

You’re not sure if you can continue, as it doesn’t make you properly comfortable to say out loud to a stranger that you had sex with the man sitting next to you. Naturally, your eyes land on Jungkook, who smiles at you and encourages you to continue.

“Right after the unprotected intercourse, I took the morning-after pill to prevent a pregnancy, and I don’t understand how it didn’t work.”

“Well, there are a couple of reasons,” she begins. “You might be taking a treatment that could interfere, but following what I see in your records, you’re not following any particular treatment right now.”

You confirm with a nod. The pharmacist raised that question when you showed up at the pharmacy asking for the plan B.

“By any chance, did you throw up a couple of hours after?” You shake your head.

Again, the man told you that if you threw up in the next few hours, you should come back because you would need to take another pill.

“So that leaves us with the last option: you had already ovulated. This emergency contraception only delays ovulation, but if it has already happened, it can’t do anything.”

You close your eyes, your chest tightening as guilt coils in your stomach. This is all your fault. You should have paid closer attention, checked your app, and been more careful before letting yourself go wild with Jungkook. Now, you’re left with a baby growing inside you.

“Okay,” you manage to say, nodding even though your throat burns. 

“There’s still a possibility that it was a false positive test,” Dr Kang offers kindly.

Even though you truly and deeply want to believe that, you know it’s not the case here. You’re a hundred percent pregnant. You know your body. You know the nausea, the exhaustion, the strange heaviness that’s settled into you.

“But the next step would be an ultrasound,” the doctor adds. “If you could take off your pants and underwear, please.”

Your eyes glance instinctively at Jungkook. He looks like a statue. He’s sitting very straight on that uncomfortable white chair, his hands now resting on his thigh, while he definitely seems worried. He leans closer and murmurs, “If you want, I can step outside.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “You’ve already seen me naked.”

Honestly, his presence grounds you. You don’t feel exposed with him here, only feeling comfortable. He nods and stays, but definitely looks away when you undress. Although he has already seen you naked, this is different. This is more intimate. You’re not taking your clothes off to have sex, but to finally meet your child.

As you settle down on the examination table, Jungkook’s eyes don’t leave you. The doctor guides you to sit down in a position that will help her perform the pelvic ultrasound.

Being here with Jungkook seems strange because you’ve always come to this office by yourself, and for the first time, there’s somebody else. You wouldn’t have ever bet that it’d be him.

The doctor takes the long transvaginal ultrasound probe, covers it with what seems like a giant condom, and puts gel on it. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he sees the probe, and you can’t help but smile.

“Can I?” Dr Kang asks, and you simply nod.

Before she proceeds to insert it inside you, she gently whispers, “Relax.”

The cold touch of the device sends shivers up your spine—you’d forgotten just how cold it feels. Your gaze instantly shifts to the monitor, and you see the image moving on it. The doctor is looking for any sign of life, as you are too.

Your heart seems to race even faster. You’re terrified of what you might see, or not see. So many questions start to rise in your mind. Is there really a baby? Or are there more than one? Is this a normal or ectopic pregnancy? If you’re pregnant, is the baby alright?

There’s a hollow ache inside you, an overwhelming need for certainty, and you know that seeing it will quiet the chaos inside your mind. You don’t know what you’re hoping for, but there’s one thing you’re sure of: only the confirmation of this pregnancy might appease your soul.

Suddenly, you can see the image on the monitor—a blurry figure appears, and seconds after, a heartbeat breaks the silence of the room. The noise cuts straight through you, sharp and absolute, and suddenly, the entire world freezes—the only thing alive being the blurry figure on the monitor.

It is real. You are pregnant.

You don’t even know what to feel. It’s as if your feelings have gone silent, and you’re left numb, waiting for your heart to catch up to what your eyes are seeing. Every part of you is suspended in this moment; you’re just stuck in a strange place where nothing feels quite real yet.

What pulls you back is the warmth of Jungkook’s hand on yours. It’s like he understood you needed something to ground you, to bring you back. You hadn’t noticed him move, hadn’t realized how far you’d drifted.

When your eyes drift from the monitor to him, his expression mirrors yours. He seems as lost as you are, and what truly catches you off guard is the fact that you’ve never seen anything other than lust and bliss in his eyes. The man in front of you doesn’t seem like the man you’ve gotten to know over the past year.

And it intrigues you. It also makes you realize how little you know about him.

Somehow, the two of you slip into your own little bubble, sealed off from the rest of the world. Everything around you has disappeared. There’s just you and him.

The doctor speaks in the background, but none of you pays attention to her words. Neither you nor Jungkook speaks; you’re simply trying to absorb the news. You’re busy trying to comprehend what can’t be undone.

This is real. This is happening.

The truth settles between you like something fragile and unbearably heavy—a reality that neither of you knows how to hold yet.

Your eyes move back to the monitor and the doctor, but your hand wraps around Jungkook’s. Even though you’d like to remain forever in this little bubble with him, you really should be listening to the doctor.

“The baby seems just fine,” her words echo in the room. “And the pregnancy is going well so far. There is really nothing to worry about.”

Although you’re lost right now, it is a relief that everything is going well. You’re not sure you would have been able to handle a bad news on top of this.

Once she has checked everything, she tells you that you can put your clothes back on. Your body works on autopilot while your mind still processes what you’ve seen.

“I believe that you took the emergency contraception to avoid a pregnancy, right?” she asks when you all sit back on the chairs next to her desk.   

“Correct,” you reply.

The doctor looks for something in a drawer before she places a flyer in front of you.

“This is a brochure from a clinic that performs abortion,” she begins to explain. “I don’t perform this procedure, but I can recommend a fantastic doctor if you wish.”

Her words hit you violently. Honestly, since stepping inside this office, you haven’t thought at all about abortion.

“Ab…Abortion?” you stutter.

It must be clear in your eyes how surprised and hurt you feel because her gaze softens instantly.

“Yes,” she gently speaks. “As you seemed not to desire this pregnancy, I just want to guide you to the best clinic.”

Jungkook’s hand envelops yours all over again, offering you reassurance and comfort.

“We don’t know yet,” he speaks for the first time since getting inside. “We haven’t decided yet what to do.”

You’re grateful that he stepped in because you’re just speechless. You weren’t really thinking about discussing the possibility of aborting. Both options need thorough thinking as they’ll have a permanent handprint on you. Either you have a baby and raise them, or you abort and carry the weight of ending a pregnancy for the rest of your life.

“I understand,” she offers you both a little smile.

Does she really? Well, you don’t know anything about her, so maybe she faced the same challenge, and you hope that, truthfully, she hasn’t. It isn’t easy.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. Jungkook drove you back home. You cried in his arms in the car, and he walked with you to your place to make sure you were fine. You took a bath and fell asleep in your bed while watching your favorite K-drama.

This day felt like a fucking nightmare.

A week later

Over the past few days, you’ve spent all your time with your mom because you felt the need to be with her and to be wrapped in her love. Nothing ever beats a mother’s love. She has listened to your concerns while never telling you what to do, even though you desperately wanted it.

But ultimately, it is your decision to make, together with Jungkook. It isn’t hers.

You’ve also been speaking with Jungkook through text. He has texted you every morning and every night, asking you how you feel, which honestly made you realize that if you ever keep this baby, he’d be a great dad.

Through your conversations, you’ve gotten to understand that he has always desired to become a dad, but obviously, not in those circumstances. He’s also very scared, confused, and lost, but he underlined several times that it’s your body, and the final decision rests with you. He’s never going to force you to choose one option over the other.

You haven’t seen him in a week, and you definitely haven’t been intimate in any way. Instead, your interactions have been focused on talking openly and honestly about your future as eventual parents, and sharing every worry and uncertainty that has been on your minds.

Honestly, this new dynamic feels both strange and soothing. You aren’t avoiding difficult subjects. You’re actually giving each other space to voice your concerns and to support one another in this heavy situation.

There is a comfort in simply talking, in knowing you are not alone in your worries and that you are facing them together. And sincerely, your conversations feel more intimate than what you’ve shared in bed.

And thanks to all those conversations, you’ve managed to make a decision. You’ve invited Jungkook over tonight. You hesitated to announce it over dinner at a restaurant, but it would be more intimate to be in the safety of your place.

When the doorbell echoes in your apartment, you basically rush to the door to open it. His tall and toned figure stands in front of you. As always, he’s dressed fully in black, but it’s more casual than usual, which indicates that he didn’t come back from work.

Jungkook works in finance, so he’s always well-dressed. Whether it’s crisp shirts, neat polos, tailored pants, or even full suits, he constantly presents himself with a level of style and professionalism that’s hard to ignore. The way he dresses for work exudes confidence and sophistication, making it easy to see why he could have any woman at his feet.

And most of the time, it leaves you wondering why he’s still single. However, you’d never complain because you got to have a taste of this man.

“Hi,” he says with the brightest smile growing on his face.

The little dimple that appears on his face as he smiles is your absolute weakness. Even without trying, he looks devastatingly hot.

“Hi, mister dimple,” you smile back.

When you met Jungkook, you were absolutely wasted and could only notice his dimple. Your fingers were constantly poking it like you were trying to confirm its existence. That night, you kept calling him ‘mister dimple’, and it stayed. Sometimes, you simply call him ‘dimple’.

“Someone seems in a better mood,” he says before winking.

Although you’re still trying to process this entirely new reality, you somehow feel better.

“Yeah,” you say as he steps inside your place.

You can’t stop your eyes from following him, drawn to him like instinct. Since today’s weather is kind of hot, he’s wearing one of those t-shirts that clings a little too much to his body, outlining muscles you know too intimately. It does nothing to hide him. If anything, it makes him impossible to ignore.

Your gaze lingers shamelessly, tracing the solid lines of his torso. His tattooed arm is on full display, and it sends a familiar flutter through your stomach. You’ve seen it a hundred times before, yet it still affects you the same way, like your body reacts before your mind can catch up.

When he steps inside, his arms flex naturally, and the sight alone is enough to make your pulse jump. He never leaves you indifferent; he actually never has. No wonder you’re pregnant. This man looks way too hot, and you can barely contain yourself.

As you both walk to the living room, his eyes land on your figure, and he checks you out. There is something about the way you move that pulls at his attention every single time. From behind, you look effortlessly captivating, and damn, he wants to run his fingers in those curves that he knows by heart.

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asks with curiosity.

“I was craving a burger, and since I’m a very bad cooker, I ordered,” you reply, your gaze shifting to him. “Let’s avoid food poisoning.”

He chuckles, knowing damn well how terrible you are in the kitchen, and he still wonders how you’re even alive. Every time he comes to your place, he ends up cooking because your cooking skills are terrible. 

“We could have cooked together,” he suggests, pausing mid-step to look at you.

“The point isn’t for you to come and cook,” you retort, folding your arms over your chest and making it clear that you didn’t invite him over to act as your chef. 

“Would have been cheaper than ordering,” he claps back.

Rolling your eyes, you answer, “I’m the one who paid, so why are you complaining?” and raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook just shrugs, “Can’t I complain now?” he asks. 

“No,” you say before resuming walking to the living room.

A low chuckle rumbles from his throat while a smile stretches across his soft features. He shakes his head before he follows you to the living room. A warmth spreads in his chest when he notices the burgers carefully placed on two different plates with fries right next to them.

“Before you asked,” you begin, “I put them in a plate like a minute before you arrive.”

Jungkook takes a seat in the chair that you show him, and his smile grows bigger when he realizes that you ordered his favorite. He’s fully aware that you barely know each other, but when it comes to food, you’ve cooked so much together that you don’t even have a secret from each other about your tastes.

While eating, you both playfully discuss, forgetting for a moment that there’s a life growing inside you—a life that has completely changed yours. It’s still surreal that a literal human is developing inside you. A human you created with the man sitting in front of you. 

And when you’ve finished eating, you gather all your courage to speak out loud what has been on your mind for the past few days. He has been very clear that he’d support you no matter what, but you also don’t want to impose on him anything. If he doesn’t want to be present, it’s his choice, and you’ll respect that. 

“As you might have guessed, I’ve asked you to come because I’ve made up my mind about the little creature growing inside me,” you finally say, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to ground yourself.

Your hands twist together in your lap, knuckles whitening as your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. You can’t even look him in the eye. This conversation makes you absolutely nervous, and it has been haunting your sleep for the past two nights. But it’s a conversation you can’t avoid.

“I’m going to keep the baby,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. Saying it out loud makes it heavier, more real. “And I really don’t expect anything from you. I don’t want you to feel trapped, or like I’m forcing this on you.”

His eyes never leave you, and when you lift yours to meet his, you search for any sign on his face. However, he doesn’t show anything; his expression is unreadable, which only makes your heart beat faster.

For a moment, none of you speaks. Jungkook just looks at you, jaw tight as if you had announced something absolutely terrible. The silence stretches, and your stomach twists painfully. You’re mentally preparing yourself for rejection, even though he promised you he’d never let you and the baby go.

“If you don’t want to be involved—”

He doesn’t even let you finish your sentence, “Yn,” he says your name in such a gentle way that it makes you melt completely. “Come here,” he softly taps his lap.

You don’t even question his intention when you stand up to sit down on his lap—one that has driven you crazy way too many times, and fuck, it brings you back to the night you conceived your baby. Some riding was involved at some point that night.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands settle firmly at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his palms seeps through your clothes, steady and reassuring, like he’s trying to remind you that he’s here. 

“Did I ever give you a single reason to believe that I’d leave you to deal with this all by yourself?” he murmurs, his warm breath softly brushing your cheek and sending a shiver through you.

You shake your head, your fingers tightening slightly at the nape of his neck before you speak, “But you mentioned you never wanted to become a dad under those circumstances.”

As the words leave your mouth, your hand betrays your nerves, absentmindedly threading through the soft hair at the back of his head. He lets out a heavy sigh, as though your words were the most terrible thing he’s ever heard. His forehead dips briefly toward yours, and his grip on your waist tightens, thumbs pressing into you.

“And you?” he asks quietly, raising an eyebrow. “Would you also want to become a mother under those circumstances?”

You shake your head once more.

“None of us expected this,” he says calmly, “but not once did I ever say or imply that I don’t want it.”

His left hand rests on top of your cheek, his lips a breath away from yours, and you know that any moment this can turn into something very nasty, but would it be right? Well, you’re not sure. However, every time you’ve been around him, things always become heated and end with both of you naked and panting. 

“I’m not going anywhere, yn,” he whispers. “If you want to keep the baby, I’ll remain by your side and raise this baby with you.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, biting your lower lip.

“I am,” he mumbles, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

Your heartbeat thrums in your ears as your gaze drops to his lips, your fingers playing with his hair. The tension is more than palpable between you, and you know you won’t be able to resist—well, not the moment, but him.

And then, it happens. His lips meet yours for a much-desired kiss, and it’s soft at first, almost as if he’s giving you time to pull away. When you don’t, something shifts.

The kiss deepens, and his lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. This right here feels like something you really needed after all the intense emotions you’ve been through the past few days. 

One of his hands slides up your back, holding you closer, while the other remains firm on your cheek. You melt into him, your fingers tightening in his hair as the kiss grows more intimate. It’s not desperate; it’s actually the opposite. It’s slow and tender.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and your breaths mingle. For a moment, you remain like this, your eyes locked on his. It just feels right, even though it’s totally different than usual. Before today, a kiss would instantly lead to the two of you naked, his dick buried deep inside you. 

This baby is definitely changing everything—even your relationship with Jungkook. Will you fall for this man?

A month later – July 2024

This morning, you woke up to a message from Darim. Her daughter is finally born, and you honestly couldn’t be happier for her. She finally got her rainbow and very much-desired baby. With Jin, they named her Yuna, which you found adorable.

You aren’t going to visit her yet since the hospital visits are limited to the father. You’ll only be able to see your goddaughter once she’s safely home with her parents, and you’ll wait until Darim feels comfortable receiving visits.

Right now, you’re staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your belly has been growing a lot over the past month, and you’re slowly looking like a pregnant lady. It’s honestly strange to see your body change, and it’s even weirder to realize that a literal human is growing inside you. You’re creating a human, and it’s just crazy.

You rub your hand over your growing stomach, embracing this new phase of your life.

Everything is different now, but Jungkook has become a tremendous source of support. Between unpredictable cravings, bouts of heartburn, and waves of nausea, he’s always there, ready to help with anything you need. He even prepares all your meals for the week because he absolutely refuses that his kid eats the shit you cook. Additionally, he has been teaching you how to cook properly, demonstrating patience and care with every lesson.

Honestly, you’re absolutely so grateful for everything he does. Jungkook goes out of his way to make your life easier, ensuring you’re never alone in navigating this pregnancy.

Jungkook arrives behind you, his toned body coming into view in the mirror. Instantly, his head rests against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist as his hands find their way to your growing belly. His body heat warms your back, making you melt in his embrace.

Well, this pregnancy hasn’t really stopped you from sleeping together. Actually, it had the opposite effect. Now that he spends more time with you, it’s like you’re two teenagers in heat, always glued to each other and having mind-blowing sex all the time.

The thing is, you now spend a lot more time together, so you’re really getting to know him. You learn how much he loves his job, that he likes to drink a glass of milk before going to bed, and that he scrunches his nose when he’s eating something he doesn’t like.

“Pregnancy looks good on you,” he whispers in your ear before pressing a gentle kiss on your naked shoulder.   

“It’s weird,” you admit quietly. “I find it beautiful, but at the same time, I barely recognize myself.”

Accepting this new body can be challenging at times. In the span of a month, you’ve been through rollercoasters while watching your body change. Some days you find yourself even prettier than before, but on other days, you even wonder if you’ll ever be able to have your old body back.

And thinking that it’s just the beginning doesn’t really help.  

He tightens his hold just a little, his lips brushing against your cheek. This simple gesture gives you butterflies, and for an instant, you close your eyes to savor this moment.

“To me,” he whispers with a deep, husky voice, “you look even better.”

Fuck, this man knows which buttons to pull to get you weak and absolutely wet in a second.

“You’re creating life, our kid,” he presses a kiss on your neck. “That’s beautiful and so fucking hot.”

He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your shoulder, and small and barely audible moans leave your lips as your hand finds its way to his hair.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

His hand trails down, sneaking under your underwear. The cold feeling of his fingers against your core sends shivers down your spine. He doesn’t even wait to run his fingers along your folds, snatching louder moans out of your mouth.

“Look at yourself,” he tells you.

Slowly, you open your eyes to be graced with your own reflections. You’re only dressed in the matching set of black bra and panties, his right hand covers your stomach, and his head lies against your shoulder, but now, his left hand is hidden under your panties. The mirror does nothing to hide the way his fingers torture your core.

As his fingers move up and down your slit, your wetness spreads everywhere, soaking your underwear even more. And fuck, the way he slowly and tortuously moves his fingers drives you insane. It feels wonderful, which brings you slowly but surely closer to the edge.

And seeing him doing it through the mirror turns you on even more.  

“You’re stunning,” he breathes. “Especially like this. I swear, I could stay right here forever—listening to you, feeling you, and memorizing every part of you.”

The look in his eyes makes your breath hitch—they’re dark with lust. His jaw is tight, tension visible there, as if he’s holding himself back. Slowly, you feel his prominent bulge teasing your back, and let’s just say that it does nothing to cool you down. It’s only arousing you even more.

His hair is slightly tousled, falling into his eyes in a way that feels careless and intimate, like he’s forgotten everything except you. But, well, an hour ago, he was fucking the shit out of you like it was the only thing that truly mattered, and he didn’t have the time yet to brush his hair.

You can only see part of him—his face, his arms, and his hands—but somehow that makes it worse, more intense. His arms are wrapped around you, muscles flexing as one hand holds you close and the other pleasures you as if he hadn’t done an hour ago. 

“And the way your face contorts with pleasure when we fuck takes my breath away,” he continues whispering while never stopping to edge you.

And we’ll, the second his greedy fingers push inside you, your orgasm rips through you. It’s so intense that he has to hold you tight with his arms, and seeing yourself fall apart prolongs your orgasm. This is mind-blowing. Even better than anything he ever did before.

Jungkook turns you around to kiss you passionately. Fuck, how are you going to survive him? He’s been giving you the best orgasms of your life for over a year, and you’re about to become parents. What will life look like once the baby is out? Will you still fuck like two rabbits in heat? Will it even be possible with a crying baby?

All those questions are brushed aside as he kisses you softly. You swear that every time his lips meet yours, you just melt. It’s like he holds a special power over you. You’re still trying to understand it, but there are moments—those right before falling asleep—when you believe you’re falling in love with him.

However, you’re convinced that it can’t be that. It doesn’t quite make sense to be falling for a man you barely know—especially when you’re only just beginning to get to know him truly.

“You’re truly wonderful, yn,” he whispers against your lips. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Your eyes look up at him as you break the kiss. His hands push your hair from your face to really and properly look at you. Jungkook knows and fully realizes that he’s falling for you, and he doesn’t hide it. For sure, at the beginning, it was just sex, and god, he had the best sex of his life.

But now that you’re carrying his baby, things are different.

He’s seeing you from another perspective. Actually, he’s truly seeing your heart, and man, he loves what he sees. As you look up at him, his heart misses a beat, making him swallow thickly. Yeah, he knows he’s fucked!

Two months later – September 2024

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” you ask, your gaze flicking between the IKEA instructions and Jungkook.

“Give me that,” he says, reaching for the manual.

He scans the pages, then looks back at the crib he’s assembling. Everything matches the pictures, each piece exactly where it should be. He frowns, genuinely confused by your question. 

“I’ve followed every step perfectly,” he says, now looking up at you.

“From here, it looks weird,” you reply, caressing your belly that has grown rounder over the past two months.

“It’s normal,” he mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The crib isn’t finished yet.”

“But shouldn’t it already look good?” you ask with concern.

“Yn,” he mumbles as he stands up to stand next to you. “If it’d look good after only assembling three pieces, then there’s certainly a problem.”

“I don’t know…” you whisper.

Jungkook instantly understands that this isn’t just about the crib. There’s definitely something else going on.

“Tell me what the real issue is, mama,” he says, his hands settling on top of your shoulders as if he’s trying to ground you both.

“I just want the best for our baby,” you tell him, your hands stroking your baby even more. “And I just want to be sure the crib is assembled perfectly so she can sleep peacefully.”

A soft smile spreads across his face as he hears your concerns. You look absolutely adorable with worry written all over your face, and he can totally understand you. This is for both of you, your first baby. Everything is uncharted territory.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you, holding you close for a moment. “We are assembling this crib perfectly, mama,” he whispers before pressing a gentle kiss on your temple. “She’ll be just fine in here. We’ll be here for her if anything happens.”

Jungkook has noticed that as you slowly get closer to your due date, which funnily is December 25th, you get more and more nervous, worrying about every single thing that relates to your baby girl. He can only understand you as he worries just as much as you do, but he has made it his mission to reassure you every single time.

He doesn’t bury and hide his concerns from you, but he formulates them in a way not to make it a burden for you. The point isn’t to make you even more stressed because he knows how it could have a bad impact on the baby.

“I know, but I’m scared it won’t be enough,” you admit as you take a step back to look at him properly.

“We’re doing our best,” he replies with such softness in his voice. “We’re preparing as much as we can before she arrives, but until she isn’t here, we can’t say for sure if it’ll be enough.”

“I know…” You say before wrapping your arms again around him.

A smile spreads across his face as he holds you tight in his embrace.

For a moment, you stay like this, and he just enjoys it even though it’s a bit complicated with your bump. It’s only getting bigger, but he can’t help but find you extremely attractive. You’re literally shining. Pregnancy definitely looks good on you.

And he realizes in this moment that he’s only falling in love with you again and again. It’s like he’s falling deeper every day, and he simply loves it.

“Now, let’s get back to building this crib for our super baby girl,” he says, pressing a kiss on your forehead gently.

Jungkook settles back on the floor in front of the crib's beginnings and returns to following the instructions to finalize it.

You sit down next to him to help him with whatever he needs. You’re not very useful because he’s doing everything by himself, but you hand him the screws and the other pieces whenever he needs them.

Suddenly, your little girl kicks you. She’s been kicking a lot in the past few days, like she’s been very active, but sometimes it’s quite painful, especially when she moves next to your rib cage.

You directly grab Jungkook’s hand, right before he starts placing a screw. “She’s kicking.”

His hand rests on your tummy, a big smile on his face, when a small but unmistakable movement presses back beneath his hand.

“She’s already strong,” he says.

“She’s killing me sometimes,” you chuckle.

His strong, tattooed hand gently touches your belly, and he stays quiet, eyes fixed on the spot beneath his palm. When he feels another movement, his smile softens. Feeling her under his hand seems unbelievable, but somehow, it makes this even more real.

He’s really going to be a father.

As his gaze lifts to meet yours, his heart swells with love. Never in his life did he imagine himself in this situation, falling desperately in love with the mother of his unborn child. But here he is, falling over and over again with you.

For almost two years, his life has drastically changed. Before meeting you, he had navigated celibacy for almost three years after being dumped for someone else. When you both met, there definitely was a strong physical attraction between you. However, neither of you was ready for a relationship, so you settled for the friends-with-benefits thing without truly knowing each other.

Things were easier like that. It was just sex.

Now, everything is different. He’s practically living at your place—cooking for you, helping you tie your shoes as you struggle to do it, showering with you, and giving you the massages you desperately crave when your girl kicks you in the ass.

He never pictured becoming a dad under these circumstances, but now, he’s grateful for them. Through it all, he’s gotten to know you—and to fall for you again and again.

Jungkook leans down, his face now right in front of your belly. “Give some break to your mama, baby girl,” he whispers. “She’s all nervous here because you don’t let her sleep properly.”

A wide smile shows up on your face.

“She’s even doubting my skills in building your crib,” he adds.

“Eeh,” you gently tap his shoulder, “for my defense, you’re a guy in finance, and I’ve never seen you being handy.”

His gaze moves up to meet yours, and his left eyebrow raises, clearly in confusion.

“You’ve never seen me being handy?” he repeats with evident surprise in his tone. “Do I need to remind you how we conceived our daughter? Or even how I feed you with proper food?”

You roll your eyes, but clearly thinking about that fantastic night of March 29th sends shivers down your spine. It was a memorable night. And seeing him cooking is like a massive turn-on, especially now that your hormones are all over the place. 

“I mean, like building and repairing stuff,” you explain yourself.

“You’re making it worse for you, mama,” he counters. “I’ve done everything in this room—from painting the walls to building every piece of furniture.”

He’s not wrong, but you’re not going to admit it. Looking at him assembling the crib feels like it’s the first time you’re seeing him being handy.

“Baby girl,” he now speaks to your daughter, “look what you’re doing to your mama. She’s so tired that she says nonsense.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you watch this tender moment unfold before your eyes.

“I’m not tired and not saying nonsense.”

“See,” he continues, “still saying nonsense.”

Two months later – November 2024

Today, you’re visiting the maternity ward, where you’ll give birth in a month. The due date is getting closer and closer, and you can’t wait to meet the little girl who has been torturing you for nine months.

Jungkook is also present, wanting to ensure that he doesn’t miss anything. This visit will cover the administrative formalities to make things easier once you arrive for the birth, a discussion over your birthing plan, and a tour of the maternity ward.

As your midwife has already explained what this visit will consist of, you have gathered all the necessary documentation for the formalities, or maybe you should say that Jungkook did.

It’s incredible to see how invested he is. He has followed every possible prenatal course, read every possible book on parenthood and fatherhood, looked on forums for advice from other fathers, and many other things. In summary, he’s more than ready for your baby girl’s arrival.

And to be honest, this reassures you a lot. You’re nervous about everything right now because the due date is very close, and his knowledge on almost every topic comforts you. Somehow, it feels like he’s the one being pregnant, and not you, but it’s great to have someone like him as your baby daddy.

As the nurse guides you through the corridors of the maternity ward, you walk beside Jungkook, one of your hands resting on your belly and the other wrapped around his arm. It’s quite hard to walk at this stage, but you try your best, and Jungkook is always next to you, helping as much as he can.

The nurse shows you the delivery rooms, the reception area, the bedrooms, and the nurses' room. Near the reception area, there are the names of the babies born this year, and they are all adorable. There’s also a section dedicated to all the little angels that didn’t survive, which honestly warmed your heart.

Throughout the visit, Jungkook keeps asking tons of questions and taking notes on his phone about the information the nurse gives you. Of course, you also raise your own questions, as this is where you’ll be bringing your baby girl to live. You can’t even believe that in a month, she’s here.

With Jungkook, you’re still hesitating between two names for her, but you’ve agreed that you’ll make the final decision once she’s out. Everybody has been begging you both to give them the names, but you refuse since you don’t want to hear people’s opinions on them. It’s always like that.

You've gotten to see it with your own eyes with your siblings. All of them already have children, and the second they revealed the names, everybody thought they were entitled to give their opinions, which is ridiculous. It’s not their child.

Once the little tour of the maternity ward is over, you head back to the car. Your hands gently caress your belly as your daughter moves a lot inside you. Lately, her movements have started to hurt—she’s grown so much.

However, your mind is lost in the future awaiting you. This visit has made it clearer that you’re really about to push a human from your body in like a month.

Right now, all you hope is that she doesn’t arrive before her due date. You’re not sure you’d be ready just yet—you still need some time to truly realize what’s coming. A baby isn’t a small thing.  

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, noticing how you’re drifting in your own thoughts.

Your eyes lift up to meet his. Even sitting in a car, he looks like a fucking walking dream. You deeply hope your daughter will inherit his good looks.

“Could be better,” you admit.

There’s no point in hiding anything from him. If you have to navigate this together, it’s always best to be fully honest with one another.

“This visit just makes it even more real,” you continue. “She’s going to be here in a month, and it’s terrifying.”

Jungkook turns to face you and rests his huge hands on top of yours. The warmth emanating from his hands instantly soothes you.

“I know,” he begins. “I’m terrified as well, but we’re a super team, and we will manage this together.”

“I know that we’re in this together, but everything scares me, starting with the birth. Do you imagine that I will push her out of my body?” you ask with obvious concern in your voice. “What if everything goes wrong during birth?”

“Yn,” he mumbles with the softest voice, “there will be a medical team ready for any case scenario when you give birth to her. I understand your concern, but don’t forget that you’ll be super well surrounded.” He pauses for a moment, his thumb stroking your hands. “And I’ll be there too.”

“Having you there means already the world to me,” you whisper.

A soft smile appears on his adorable face, and you take one of his hands to press a gentle kiss on top of it. Jungkook has been your rock through it all. Without him, you wouldn’t have survived a week. He’s been taking care of you as nobody has ever before. Both you and your daughter are lucky to have him.

“I’ve something for you,” he tells you, reaching toward the glove compartment in front of you. You shift in your seat to give him room, watching him pull out a small box wrapped with care.

“I know your baby shower is tomorrow,” he continues, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And technically, I should wait, but I couldn’t.”

Your heart starts to pound as he places the box in your hands. You open it slowly, almost afraid to rush the moment, and then you completely freeze. Inside rests a delicate necklace, a small heart catching the light. Your throat tightens instantly, tears threatening to run down your face.

“Tomorrow, everybody’s going to shower our princess with gifts,” he says softly. “ But I really wanted to give something to you. You’re the one carrying her. You’re the one about to give birth, and you deserve to be celebrated, too.”

For a moment, you can’t speak. You can only stare at the necklace, and then at him, completely overwhelmed by the weight of the gesture. The necklace is, for sure, wonderful, but what truly warms your heart is that he thought of you.

What did you do to deserve this man? How can he even be real?

Jungkook has really made it hard not to fall for him. Every day, he finds new ways to make you fall in love with him again and again. Sometimes you wonder if there will be any space left in your heart for your daughter.

“This is beautiful,” you manage to say, tears streaming down your face. “You didn’t have to.”

His thumb cleans the tears on your face; he hates to see you crying.

“You deserve it, mama,” he murmurs, his hot breath caressing your face. “I feel like I can’t thank you enough for carrying our baby girl. Everything I do seems so little compared to that.”

“It’s not,” you tell him. “You already do so much.”

His thumb strokes your cheek.

“I wish I could do more,” he murmurs before he leans to press the gentlest kiss on your lips.

And somehow, with his sweet words and thoughtful gesture, you feel like he’s just as smitten as you. Maybe you’re not the only one falling madly in love.

A month later – December 2024

Nova is born on December 31st at 2:02 pm.

“Apparently, she didn’t want to share the same birthday as Jesus,” Jungkook’s contagious laugh echoes in the room.

Your eyes fall on his figure—he’s holding your daughter, Nova, in his arms, watching her with literal hearts in his eyes. A smile grows on your face as you watch them both.

“She preferred New Year’s Eve,” you reply.

“Double the celebration,” he jokingly says.

Honestly, you don’t know how you’re still awake. She was born two hours ago and finally fell asleep after you both struggled to put her to sleep. You’re absolutely destroyed from birth, but completely in love with your baby girl.

You’ve been awake since two am, when you felt the first contractions. At first, you didn’t pay much attention because you’d been experiencing them for a couple of days, but as they got more intense, you realized that your baby girl was on her way.

Around five am, you called your midwife asking if you should rush to the hospital, but she advised you to wait until around seven or eight am. You had already waited before calling her, but with the help of Jungkook, you still managed to navigate through the painful contractions until eight am.

The pain only got worse, and you literally begged for the epidural. After that, it was like you were floating. You could still sense everything, but it wasn’t painful anymore.

Jungkook kept you busy all that time—chatting, walking, singing, and dancing with you all along. Honestly, he made it look like time was moving fast. Through it all, he stayed by your side, cheering you up.

The entire medical staff was surprised when they found out you and Jungkook weren’t together. Some even thought you were joking. They told you that you definitely looked like a couple, and they were impressed by his support. One of the nurses told you some horrific stories about some dads disappearing while their partners were giving birth.

When it was time to push, you honestly thought you couldn’t make it, but he encouraged you, telling you repeatedly that you had already done the biggest part. Now it was just a matter of pushing her out.

On top of having a super baby daddy, the medical staff was fantastic. They also encouraged you tremendously through it all and helped you as well when you were literally giving up towards the end.

But looking at her now in her father’s arms makes it all worth it.

Jungkook is shirtless, sitting on a chair next to your bed with Nova against his chest. She seems so tiny against him, his hands almost hiding her completely.   

“This year, I’m for sure not making it to midnight,” you chuckle.  

“Me neither,” he says, his eyes meeting yours.

Even if she were born on her due date, you would have never been able to wait until midnight, you know it. This New Year celebration would have been special in any case, and with her being born on New Year’s Eve, this end of 2024 is even more special.

“Maybe you should try to get some sleep, mama,” Jungkook tells you. “I’ll stay awake, taking care of you both if needed.”

“Thanks, mister dimple,” you reply, smiling at him.

As you look at each other, you know that this day is beyond special. Watching each other become parents deepens what you already feel. Jungkook only admires you even more after witnessing you bring your daughter into the world.

How could he not fall in love with you again and again after something like this?

Six months later – back to June 2025

After Yuna’s birthday party, Jungkook drove the three of you back home. Since you got pregnant, he has decided to rent his apartment—he’s literally been living with you. Having him by your side has made everything a lot easier, and raising Nova together seems simple as ABC.

At the party, you spoke with Darim and finally admitted how down bad you were for Jungkook. Those feelings haven’t been a secret to you, but it was the first time you were saying them out loud. She wasn’t surprised, saying that she had been waiting for you to tell her.

Following her words, Jungkook is as smitten as you, if not more, and she still doesn’t know how, after all this time, you haven’t started dating. You’ve been glued to each other since you found out about the pregnancy, and he’s been literally worshipping the ground you walk on.

Darim encouraged you to speak with him. You are scared that he’d push you away, and it’s the last thing on earth you want right now. You need him. You’re a super team when it comes to taking care of Nova.

“Are you okay, mama?” Jungkook asks while taking Nova out of the stroller.

Even though he’s focused on carefully removing your daughter, his eyes can’t help but look at you.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lower lip.

How are you supposed to tell this man that you love him? It seems impossible. Revealing your feelings would ruin everything, and you’re working perfectly as co-parents.  

Just look at him. He’s holding your six-month-old baby against his chest like she weighs nothing when it’s getting harder for you to hold her. And he looks so effortlessly hot. Being a dad suits him perfectly—no wonder all women can’t help but look at him when he carries her.

“That’s not really convincing,” he tells you while walking in your direction. “You’ve been spacing out since you spoke with Rimy.” 

“I’m not spacing out,” you counter.

Jungkook looks down at your chubby little daughter, “See?” he tells her in a teasing, high-pitched voice. “Your mom has been saying nonsense since she was pregnant with you.”

Nova lets out a delighted giggle, as if she understands every word.

“Jungkook,” you warn him.

His gaze shifts to you, the teasing fading away. “Just tell me what’s going on,” he says gently. “I’m worried.”  

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You disappear into the living room, putting some distance between the two of you. This man makes you so weak. If he keeps pushing, you’ll just give in.

“Yn,” he calls after you, following close behind. “Don’t run away from me.”

No answer comes from your mouth. Instead, you decide to hide in your bedroom, your heart racing inside your chest. Jungkook walks behind you with a giggling Nova in his arms. Apparently, she finds this whole situation amusing. Her little feet are bouncing against his torso, and soft sounds tumble from her mouth.

Once inside, Jungkook closes the door behind him, leaving you no room to escape again. He studies you, concern etched into his features.  

When you finally turn to face them, a smile spreads across your face. Nova has her hand in her mouth, her legs kicking with energy against her dad. If she’s hurting him, he doesn’t show it.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he asks once more, his tone filled with concern.

Your heart thrums inside your chest while you take a deep breath. There’s no escaping this conversation, even if you want to. Jungkook isn’t the kind of man to let things go, especially not when he cares. And right now, it’s painfully obvious that he does.

“I love you,” you mumble, but he doesn’t hear it. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t hear you, yn,” he says, frustratingly, and he takes a step closer, closing the distance between you.

“I love you,” you repeat out loud, heart pounding extremely fast.

Your words catch him off guard, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, only blinking at you. There’s a heavy silence between you; the room is simply filled with Nova’s soft sounds.

Your heart completely breaks as he doesn’t react. Rimy was wrong, he doesn’t love you back—at least not like you love him. You’re convinced that he might love and respect you as a friend and the mother of his daughter, but that’s it.

So to spare you a devastating heartbreak, you leave the room, heading to the apartment’s entrance. You need to get out of this place, put some distance between you and him, and thoroughly think about the future.

“Yn,” Jungkook calls for you when you put your shoes on. “Please, wait. Let me just put Nova in the playpen.”  

If anything, you hurry to run away, putting on your shoes as fast as possible, but it seems that Jungkook is even faster in putting your daughter in the playpen. When you open the door, his hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from stepping outside.   

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” he rumbles with annoyance.

The second your eyes meet his, you’re caught off guard by the look on his face. His expression isn’t hurt, but you’d say that he’s actually stunned, as if your words knocked the air out of him, and he’s only now remembering how to breathe.  

“I prefer to avoid the tough conversation where you tell me that you’re flattered but don’t feel the same,” you tell him, freeing your wrist from his grip.

Somehow, you manage to remove yourself from his hand and resume getting away. The tears are threatening to run down your face, your heart is beating way too fast, and your hands are shaking. You’re sure you’ll never be able to look at him ever again.

“I love you too,” he says very loudly when you step into the building complex’s corridor.

You instantly freeze. Out of all the answers, you never expected this one. In your head, it was impossible. There’s no way this man loves you back.

“I love you way too much, yn,” he continues. “Please come back inside. We can’t have this conversation here, and we can’t leave Nova alone.”

His words change everything. This isn’t rejection as you expected it to be. It’s the opposite, and you need to hear him out. So, you walk back home. The look on his face breaks your heart. You’ve never seen him like that. It’s like he’s been repeatedly stabbed in the heart.

Jungkook closes the door behind you, but doesn’t let you make any other move, trapping you between the door and his body. Your heart is really ready to burst. You’ll have a damn heart attack before the end of the day.

“You can’t just run away like a thief after telling me ‘I love you’,” he tells him with his deep, husky voice.

“You didn’t react—”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence. “How could I? I was chasing you, dead worried, and you told me that you love me. I was in shock. My brain needed a minute to process the info.”

“I got scared,” you confess.

His hand caresses your cheek, trying to comfort you, and it definitely works.

“And I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It wasn’t my intention.”

For a moment, you close your eyes, leaning your face against his hand.

“I truly and deeply love you, yn,” he admits. “It almost feels like it’s impossible to love someone this strongly.” He takes a deep and shaky breath, and you finally open your eyes to look at him. “I’ve been falling in love with you again and again since the beginning of your pregnancy. Every single thing you do makes me fall even harder. But up until today, I truly believed it was one-sided. I never imagined you felt the same.”

His words take you by surprise, your throat tightening as you swallow. Many thoughts cross your mind, but only one question screams louder than any other.  

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice sounds so weak.

“I guess for the same reasons as you,” he replies quietly. “I was scared of ruining our super co-parenting team, and…” he hesitates to continue. “I was scared of losing you.”  

Your hands rise instinctively to cup his face. “You’d never lose me,” you whisper. “Even if I didn’t feel the same. You’re Nova’s dad.”

His eyes soften, but there’s something raw in his expression. “But I always wanted to be more than that for you,” he confesses with a shaky voice. “I never wanted to be just your daughter’s father.”

Your heart misses a beat, your thumbs brushing over his handsome face. It’s hard to remain composed in front of the man you love.  

“Me too,” you manage to say.

A breathy laugh escapes him, from relief and emotion as well. “I love you so freaking much, mama,” he murmurs. “Nothing has felt the same since the pregnancy. The sex, the kisses—everything felt deeper. It wasn’t just desire. It was me loving you and not knowing how else to say it.”  

“Jungkook,” you murmur.

And then, without wasting any other second, you crash your lips against his. This is overwhelming, in a good way, of course, and you can’t just stay like this without doing anything. Any words you might say will never express your love the same way a kiss would.

You kiss him with your entire soul, letting your emotions take over it. Instantly, your arms wrap around his neck to push him closer to you. This feels like heaven. This feels like the best thing ever.

Darim was right after all. Jungkook loves you as well. Your feelings were reciprocated all this time, but you were too blind to see it.   

The kiss deepens quickly, taking a heated and fervent turn. It represents much more than it has ever been. You’re both in love and aware of it now. It’s filled with even more passion than ever before.

His hands quickly move down to your waist, sneaking under your pants to squeeze your ass. A moan escapes your lips, but Jungkook directly swallows it while kissing you like a starved man.

Nova’s rumbling brings you both down to earth. Taking this any further with a baby very much awake is impossible. She might start crying or doing dangerous things while you both do nasty stuff.

“We should stop before Nova does something wild and hurts herself,” you whisper against his lips.

“Yeah, right,” he takes a step back, running his hand through his hair.

The two of you head back to the living room, where Nova is playfully throwing her favorite stuffed bunny on the floor in her playpen. She looks absolutely adorable.

For the rest of the afternoon, you try to keep your hands to yourselves, but it’s practically impossible. Thankfully, around 6 pm, she falls asleep after breastfeeding, and Jungkook puts her to sleep in her crib, in her own bedroom.

After that, he joins you in your room, and you both just surrender to passion. “Finally,” he mumbles as he walks towards you and closes the door behind him. “Let me just place the baby monitor on the nightstand, and I’m all yours.”

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him take big steps until the nightstand. Once settled, he gets closer to you, lust written all over his face. The two of you stand in front of each other, smiling like idiots. Everything is different now.

“If it wasn’t for Nova,” he whispers, closing the distance between you, “I would have fucked you against that door earlier.” Jungkook leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. “I would have shown you how fucking happy I am.”

His hand lands on your back, his fingers pressing just a little. His other hand comes up to trace along your jaw, his touch featherlight but so intoxicating.

“You’ve no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of you telling me you loved me back,” he continues, his lips brushing against your cheek as he speaks. “But hearing it for real turned me on so much.”

“You can show me now how fucking happy you are,” you whisper before crashing your lips on his.

His hand on your back pulls you closer, your body pressed against his. Your fingers find their way to his hair to play with it. The kiss deepens almost instantly, driven by the same desperate need building inside you.

Without wasting anymore time, his hand moves to the hem of your pants. His fingers push them down, the fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re now only in your underwear—not your fanciest, but it isn’t your ugliest as well.

Since becoming a mother, you have been using the most comfortable underwear, which most of the time isn’t the prettiest one. The version of you before Nova would have been extremely shocked, as you used to always put on the prettiest matching set of bra and panties. Now, you barely match anything together, even socks. 

“Sit on the bed,” he instructs, and you obey without saying anything.

Once you sit at the edge, Jungkook kneels in front of you, his hands pushing apart your legs. His fingers very slowly trace along your leg, and his lips press featherlight kisses on your thigh. His hot breath and soft fingers against your skin send shivers down your spine.

“You always know what to do,” you mumble, your back slightly arching.

“I’ve been studying this body for more than two years,” he whispers against your skin. “So I know you by heart now.”

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pushing the fabric down. He takes his time, his eyes never leaving you. Once your panties reach your ankles, Jungkook throws the fabric somewhere in the room.

“And I intend to keep studying it,” he adds.

He looks like a damn sin, and that sight alone can make you come right now.

“Please never stop,” you beg.

Jungkook leans back in, “It’s not on my plans, mama.”

His lips graze your skin as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath brushing over you. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his lips finally taste you without hesitation. 

A strangled gasp escapes your mouth, your back arching instinctively as pleasure pulses through you. Your hands also find their way to his hair, tugging it as he eats you out like a starved man.  

“Fuck,” you moan.

Your hips buck forward, pushing his face even closer, and your fingers tighten in his hair as a trail of moans falls from your lips. His mouth works over you with tremendous hunger, tongue torturing you like never before, while his lips seal around your clit. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement.

You throw your head back while moans flow out of your mouth. The growing pleasure is overwhelming but in a fantastic way, and your body trembles beneath his relentless tongue.

“Don’t be too loud, mama,” he speaks against your core. “We don’t want to wake up our princess. It’d be a shame if this had to stop.”

You simply nod, biting your lower lip to try to muffle your moans, but you know you won’t be able to hold back for long. As he said, he knows your body better than you do. He knows how to flick his tongue to have you screaming with pleasure.   

Jungkook is savoring every second, and a satisfied hum vibrates against you, sending shocks through your core. When your fingers tighten in his hair, he takes it as encouragement to push you further.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you barely manage to say because of his tongue working wonders on your core. “I’m going to come.”   

He groans, and he can feel his dick getting more and more compressed in his pants. The way you say his name turns him on in an unbelievable way.

Before you even realize it, your orgasm violently hits you, your legs shaking and squeezing his face, and your walls clenching around emptiness. Even though you’re coming hard against his lips, Jungkook doesn’t stop lapping at your juices.

Once you come down from your high, he pulls away. His face glistens with your slick, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with hunger.

Jungkook stands up before pushing down his pants and underwear. A sigh of relief leaves his lips the second his cock is finally free. It was getting painful to keep it inside his pants.

As he does so, you remove any remaining piece of clothing from your body. Not once does he look away, enjoying the sight unfolding right in front of him. When you’re fully naked, you lean back as you hold yourself with your upper arms, your eyes hungrily admiring the man standing in front of you.

“Someone seems turned on,” you say as your eyes look up to meet his.

Once he’s fully naked, his right hand finds its way to his cock, stroking himself. “I could come with a simple kiss,” he admits, and something inside you twists.

“So I’m the lucky girl who makes you come with a simple kiss?” you ask with a smirk, and he nods.

His grip tightens around his cock, his eyes never leaving yours. The simple fact that he’s masturbating in front of you is an incredible turn-on, but the way his eyes shine with lust gets you incredibly wet. He’s so fucking hot.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll beg you to get me pregnant all over again.”

You notice his jaw flexing as his thumb swipes over the top of his cock, spreading the precum.

“You don’t have to beg, mama,” he tells you. “You just have to ask, and I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

You stand up, a smirk appearing on your face. Without saying anything, you gently remove his hand from his cock, and replace it with yours. Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose as your hand tightens around his shaft before you slowly start to stroke him.

“Mama,” he groans with his deep and rough voice.

“Tell me, dimple,” you say as you get slightly closer. Your other hand traces across his collarbone, a shiver running through his body. “Don’t you like this?”

Your hand moves faster on his shaft, making him groan with pleasure. Fuck, he won’t last long if you keep stroking him like that.  

“I do,” he moans. “I really do, but I won’t last long…”

Jungkook is completely consumed by pleasure, and damn, he doesn’t want to stop you, but he also doesn’t want to come just now. So, he places his hand on top of yours to stop you, and he doesn’t give you time to realize what happens when he lays you on the mattress of his bed, and then his lips crash against yours.

His body presses flush against yours, heat radiating between your bodies as he deepens the kiss. “You drive me absolutely crazy, mama.”  

His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his fingers brushing your jaw. His lips press another kiss on yours before he looks down between your bodies. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself one last time.

When you break the kiss, he holds you open as he guides the head of his cock into your sopping entrance. At first, he teases you as he drags the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A deep moan leaves your throat as he stretches you open. Your walls clench around him as his cock makes its way inside your pussy. Your back instantly arches, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper.

“I’m so addicted to you, mama,” he mumbles the second he looks down, watching the way your body takes him in.

Jungkook pushes himself as far as possible. The second he’s fully inside, he halts to give you both a moment to adjust, but he honestly can’t stay still inside you. It’s absolute torture.

“Can I move?” he asks for your consent.

Even after two years of fucking like rabbits, he always makes sure that you agree with everything that goes on. He’d hate himself if he did something that wouldn’t make you comfortable.

Jungkook slowly pulls back, and he pauses for a second when only the thick head of his cock remains inside. Without any warning, he pushes back. Feeling his thick shaft pushing deeply back into you is beyond satisfying. Damn, it even makes you see stars.

Both of you try to muffle your moans as he starts pounding into you, but it’s basically impossible. This man right here just knows how to drive you completely crazy.  

His pace is restless, your body moving in tandem with his thrusts. His hands grip your waist tight as the room gets filled with the sound of your low moans, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall, your bodies slapping together, and your pussy soaking his cock.

The heat builds in your core as he slams into you, filling you with each thrust. Your hands grip the sheets to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts.

Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this.

His lips meet yours for a sloppy kiss while his thrusts grow rougher and quicker. “You drive me crazy,” he whispers against your lips. “And I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too,” you reply. “Like crazily.”  

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach while your baby daddy moans your name. He seems just as consumed as you by pleasure. The only thing you’re both focused on now is chasing your high, and the heat between you is unbearable. You both know you won’t be lasting much longer. 

“I’m going to come again, Jungkook,” you manage to say, the desperation filling your voice.

His cock twitches inside you at your words, and well, that action causes your orgasm to crash over you. Your walls squeeze him tight while your orgasm completely and violently hits you. Jungkook groans when he feels your wall squeezing on repeat his cock.  

His thrusts get more desperate as he starts chasing his own high. He’s so fucking close. Jungkook closes his eyes because the simple view of your face contorting with pleasure is just too much. Your walls keep tightening around him, a torture you impose on him to help him cum.

“Fuck,” he groans.

And then, with one last thrust, he falls apart. Deep groans fall from his lips as he releases his hot semen inside you, painting your velvety walls white. His hands tighten around your waist, holding you still while he releases himself deeper in you. He looks incredibly sexy when the orgasm hits him. 

Jungkook collapses next to you in bed. His breathing is heavy, his eyes fixed on the ceiling just like yours. For a moment, you both remain in silence, giving each other the time to come down.

When his breathing is back to normal, he turns his head to look at you. “How do you feel?”

Your face moves, allowing you to meet his gaze. The horny Jungkook is now replaced by a softer version of him, making him look like a baby. Nova has inherited his big, round eyes—the same eyes that always make you melt.

“Great,” you smile, your body moving closer to his.

You rest your head against his chest, and his arms wrap around you.

“This is always great with you,” you admit, your eyes looking up to meet his. “We’re pretty good at sex.”

“But pretty bad at confessing our feelings,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Very bad.”

One of his hands tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. There’s a moment of silence between you, but it’s far from being an awkward or heavy one. It’s the kind of moment that allows you to fully realize the immensity of the situation.

Jungkook loves you, like really does. And you love him back with the same intensity. This isn’t a dream of yours anymore. This is the reality.

“Now that we know our feelings,” Jungkook begins. “I’d really like to take you on a real date and properly ask you to be my girlfriend.”

“Why can’t you do it now?” you ask with a little smile on your face.

“I think it would be better to do it over dinner in a fancy restaurant, no?” he tells you.

“Honestly, I don’t give two shits about where we are,” you reply. “As long as we are together and we know that we want this, I’m happy.”

The brightest smile grows on his face.

“I wasn’t picturing things like this,” he chuckles lightly. “But would you love to be my girlfriend?”

The answer comes with no hesitation. “I’d love that.”

And just like that, you both found yourselves living the love you’d always dreamed of, falling in love again and again every single day.

　⠀　 　⠀　 　⠀　 　⠀　 INDEX

one ✧➳

when you sleep with your best friend and wind up pregnant, the last thing you expect after avoiding him for weeks is a marriage proposal.

two ✧➳

as the months blur and your proximity to jungkook tightens, so does the tension between the two of you, turning sharp and reckless. between now living together and working for the new york titans, it's unavoidable - evidently, so is winding up in his bed time more often that not. with the already bizarre situation, you agree that it's just sex and that the engagement is still just for the baby. . .until you can no longer fight the lies.

three ✧➳

you finally confront the feelings you’ve buried deep for jungkook, just as your last trimester and all-star weekend collide - bringing unexpected drama in their wake. the time to face the music arrives and it's a song that you've known all along.

bonus chapter ✧➳

before the wedding begins and long after it ends, you and jungkook find peace in the quiet moments together.

Jungkook had looked far from pleased when he opened the door for you that very next day. His jaw had been clenched so hard you worried his teeth would crack from the pressure. He said nothing when stepping aside to let you in and he had slammed the door shut behind you with a little more force than necessary. 

You made no comment on the blatant tension that seemed to simmer beneath his skin. Instead you busied yourself with taking off your shoes and slipping out of your coat. Mirroring your movements, Jungkook bent down to tie his own shoes as he prepared to take his leave. He seemed in no rush but there was a certain stiffness to the way he yanked on the shoelaces. 

"It's awfully cold out today," You hum when hanging up your coat on a spare hanger. Beside you, Jungkook gave only a small grunt of acknowledgement, not even sparing you as much as a glance when he reached for his own jacket. It was then you learned that he wasn't a fan of small talk — or any talking at all for that matter. 

You watch as he shrugs on his coat, straightening out the cuffs around his wrists with methodical care. "Kids aren't in school today?" Throwing a glance down the hall, you strain your ears to catch sight of the young ones. 

Jungkook gives a curt nod. "School's closed for inspection," He heaves a sigh, fingers curling around his car keys. "I'll be back at nine." Turning his back to you, Jungkook opens the door, letting the chilly air inside. With one foot past the threshold, he pauses, tilting his head to peer at you over his shoulder, "Don't waste your time on locked doors today." 

With that he walks out and shuts the door behind him, leaving a tense silence in his wake. You swallow, wiping away a patch of imaginary sweat from your forehead as you glance toward the ceiling. Cassian must have told him about your unsuccessful break in attempt last night. How embarrassing — though he had yet to fire you over one mishap, perhaps there was still hope. 

Having called in sick for your noon-class, you had officially prioritized your job as a nanny over your own education. And you were only on your second day. Fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh, your attention flickers toward the ticking clock on the bureau. 

Twelve fifteen pm. The kids' study time wasn't scheduled for another four hours. That left your entire afternoon to entertain two children — who both seemed painfully disinterested in anything that could be viewed as even moderately fun by the average toddler. 

You pace the large hall for a moment as you think of anything to occupy them with. The thought of a movie crosses your mind, but then Jungkook's words echo somewhere in the back of your mind. Don't let them spend time in front of the big screen, right, because God forbid they learned the significance of Lady and the Tramp. 

Then another idea blooms and your face lights up. 

Your feet are heavy on the stairs as you make your way up the steps. "Children!" You call, not bothering to knock as you swing past their open doors. A moment later, Cassian's small figure peeks out from behind the doorframe. There's a tiny frown etched onto his forehead as he regards you with a blank expression. 

"Yes?" Comes Rayne's voice from where she stands by her own door. Her arms are folded across her chest, almost accusingly — like you had disrupted a perfect part of her free afternoon. 

You knew not to take their displeased pouts to heart, they were only kids after all. Instead you plaster on the biggest and most convincing smile you could muster. "What do you guys think about going to the park? We could go on the swings, play in the sand, I'm sure they have a slide too!" 

Your brave enthusiasm is met with silence as both Rayne and Cassian were looking at you like you'd grown a second head. 

"The park?" Rayne finally echoes, her voice filled with skepticism. She arches a tiny brow when you nod, sending her brother a glance which he returned with one of his own. It was almost like they were silently communicating, coming to a unanimous decision before turning back to where you stood dumbfoundedly. 

Finally they both nod. "Okay," Rayne hums. 

It was far from convincing but it was also way better than a 'no'. You took whatever you were given, your smile widening as you gesture between the two children, "Let's go get ready then!" 

Everything was going suspiciously well. They made no fuss when you told them to put on their coats. Cassian had needed some help with tying his shoelaces but neither of them hesitated when heading out the door as soon as they were fully dressed. You had been in the midst of locking up with the help of the spare key, when Rayne suddenly spoke up. 

"Where is your car?" She asked from where she stood on the empty driveway. Her younger brother swayed beside her, one of his hands restlessly fidgeting with the top button of his coat. 

You paused, glancing between the expectant look on her face and over to the street that ran outside the house. With a small scoff you shoved the keys in your pocket and walked over, "I don't have a car. We'll have to walk there." 

Cassian frowned at that, bottom lip jutted out into a small pout. "Why don't you have a car?" He wonders as he peers up at you through his long lashes. 

Scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, you think of a way to explain your financial situation and the costs of a car to two kids. After some thought you decided to just be blunt, "Because cars are expensive." You give Cassian a small smile before grabbing his tiny hand in yours, "Come on, let's go." 

You think you might have made it about two steps when Rayne suddenly huffs behind you. "Are you poor?" 

Your pace stutters before faltering to an awkward stop as you turn to glance at her over your shoulder. She stands with her feet firmly planted against the pavement, arms folded across her chest and her brows furrowed, she watches you with calculating eyes — far too reminiscent of her father. 

With an awkward chuckle that sounds more like a strained call for help, you shake your head. "Not exactly. But I still don't have enough money for a car." You pause, letting your answer linger in the air for a moment before you ask, "Does that bother you?" 

Rayne remains quiet for a long moment, like she could sense the weight of the question and was thinking over her response carefully. After another long and painful silence she shakes her head. "No," She says as her arms unfold to hang limp by her sides, "I've just never met a poor person before." 

You almost snort at the implication of her words, suddenly feeling like a zoo animal on display. It was for the better to drop the subject as quickly as possible. "Why don't we focus on heading to the park?" Beckoning her over with your free hand, Rayne reluctantly obliges as she lets you intertwine your fingers with hers. 

Hand in hand, the three of you head down the street and for the first time since last night, you felt hopeful. 

You didn't think it was possible for kids to not enjoy themselves whenever placed in front of something with even a remote sense of movement. But you were proven wrong approximately two and a half minutes upon reaching the park. 

Despite the low temperatures and the early afternoon hour, the park was bustling with life as children ran all over the place. Some took turns pushing each other on the swings. Others were racing their friends down the slide and a small party were building sand castles out in the sand box. 

Lined up on the accompanying benches were parents who all watched their children play with mild amusement. Some were snapping photos whilst others prepared snacks. But you weren't sitting on one of the benches, no, you were stood next to two unmoving, tiny figures. 

Rayne and Cassian had not as much as attempted to approach any of the facilities for them to play in. While Cassian had glanced at the swings for half a second before promptly turning away, Rayne still hadn't took her eyes off of the ground in front of her. 

"Don't you want to play?" You try to encourage, giving them both a slight nudge in the direction of the swings when the kids playing there gave it a rest. 

Rayne shakes her head stubbornly. "It's stupid." She throws the other children a pointed look, as if to emphasize what she thought of the matter. 

You pause, turning to the young girl with a perplexed frown. "Then why did you two agree to come here if you didn't want to go in the first place?" 

It's Cassian who speaks up next, a small pout still present on his lips when he turns to peer up at you. "Because you asked," He says matter-of-factly, "Daddy says not to say no when being asked to do something." 

Your mouth opens and closes several times as his words register. "Oh," Exhaling a quiet breath, your gaze wanders across the park. "So you came along out of… courtesy?"

Both of them nod silently, their expressions indifferent as they continued to regard you. You on the other hand, were still unable to wrap your head around the fact that they weren't even slightly interested in playing like the other kids. 

"Alright," Straightening up, you start walking toward the swings with determined steps. 

"Where are you going?" Rayne calls for you, the confusion in her voice evident. 

But you merely shrug, snatching one of the swings as you flop down on it. "You guys don't have to play if you don't want to. But I didn't walk all the way here for nothing." 

With that you kick your feet off the sand as you start swinging back and forth. It was surprisingly fun — you couldn't remember the last time you had went on a swing just because you could. Picking up speed, you swing higher and higher as you peer up at the cloudy sky. 

Cassian and Rayne were standing off to the side, their eyes following you back and forth as they looked on silently. Neither of them made a move to join you, but they weren't outright asking to go home either. 

Five minutes later your legs grew tired of swinging back and forth. Sighing to yourself, fingers curling around the handles a little tighter, you dig your feet into the sand as the swing comes to an abrupt stop. 

Pausing for a moment, you turn to the kids. "Well?" You hum, cocking your head to the side as you wait for them to blurt out a complaint — except, it never comes. You're met with even more silence as they both continue to stare at you with equally unimpressed looks on their tiny faces. 

Scoffing to yourself, you push up from the swing. "I'm going on the slide." You announce, turning sharply on your heel as you make your way over. 

Admittedly the playground wasn't exactly built to accommodate for adults. You had to awkwardly climb the steps up before proceeding to squeeze yourself through a narrow door in order to get to the slide itself. Finally at the top, you stop to peer down to at the children. 

Cassian was watching you with a small frown while Rayne looked impassive. Though you thought you could make out a flicker of embarrassment flashing across her features as she scrunched her brows in slight distaste. 

"I'm going down now!" You call out to them, waving enthusiastically with one arm as you send them a smile. Rayne turns to the side, avoiding to even as much as look at you, whereas Cassian gave a tiny and hesitant wave back. 

Cramming yourself through the opening, you kick off as you go down the slide. It wasn't half as fast and exhilarating as you could remember — given it might have something to do with the fact that you were quite a bit heavier and taller now. 

When reaching the end, you do so with a small squeal as if to seal the deal. Cassian was waiting by the end of the slide, his lips still turned into a pout. Rayne on the other hand, had walked over to one of the nearby trees, standing firmly by the trunk as she refused to even glance in your direction. Typical. 

Turning to her younger brother, you give one last attempt at getting him to play. "You wanna go on it?" You ask, bracing your hands on your knees as you lean down. 

Cassian only shakes his head, his dark eyes trailing down your body before he mutters out: "Your clothes are dirty." 

Following his gaze, you find that your shoes were covered in a mixture of wet sand and mud — as were your jeans. "I guess they are," Shrugging nonchalantly, you grin, "Means I had a lot of fun." 

Cassian only frowns, "What fun is there in getting mud on your clothes?" He fiddles with the hem of his coat — his very much spotless coat that looked like it just came from the dry cleaner's. 

"So? I can just clean them when I get home," You muse, not understanding why this was such a big deal to him. Weren't kids supposed to enjoy getting dirt and food all over their new clothes to piss off their parents? 

When he doesn't give more than a grimace in response, you sigh. Straightening back up, you wipe your hands on your thighs before extending one of them to him. Cassian allows you to intertwine your fingers, albeit reluctantly before letting you lead him over to Rayne. 

"Let's get your sister and go home then," You say, realizing that the park had been a failure. 

When you came home the kids went straight to the library for their study session. You were left to tend to your muddy pants as you stood over the bathroom sink — scrubbing at the denim in vain as you tried to rid yourself of the stain. 

"It's just mud, how is it stuck on here like this?" You mutter under your breath as you rub at the stubborn patch of dirt. The water had been running for at least ten minutes now and once you began to worry that it would affect the water bill, you turned it off. 

Heaving a sigh as you lean back against the counter, you let your gaze wander across the bathroom. The tiles were marble, the mirror free of toothpaste stains and the porcelain bathtub seemed to sparkle under the light. 

Had it not been for the three toothbrushes placed in the small cup on the sink, and the towel hanging on the nearby rack — one would have thought the house to be uninhabited. 

There wasn't as much as a trace of the kids anywhere but their own bedrooms. No toys scattered around, no dirty socks laying under tables and no family photos. You wondered if the latter had anything to do with the absence of their mother. It was a topic you had yet dare to breach but still desired to nonetheless.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you step back out into the hallway. The children were basically self sufficient which made your job all the more pointless. They would not need help with their homework but your feet still led you toward the library. 

Rayne and Cassian were sitting by the only desk in the room, their feet not quite reaching the ground as their legs swung back and forth lazily. Textbooks were spread across the table as they worked quietly. The sound of a pen moving softly on paper came from Rayne as she took notes of the pages she was reading. 

But what caught your attention was the pop of color in front of Cassian. He had what looked like a poster laid out on the wooden surface, his tiny hands clutching a glue stick as he smeared the glue over one of the corners. 

"What are you doing?" You ask when taking the seat next to him, resting your elbows on the table with mild interest. 

Cassian doesn't look up from his poster as he glues on the cloud he had cut out from another piece of paper. The poster had wonky and handmade trees, a yellow sun and one cloud on it. Its mid section was still void of any detail, having only the plain, blue background to fill the space. 

"It's for our Career Day," He explains quietly, pressing his fingers over the cloud to let the glue set in place. 

"Career Day?" Cocking a brow, you lean forward to take a closer peek at his artistic work. "What is that?" 

Cassian hums as he reaches for the white paper, grabbing a pen as he began to draw a second cloud. "It's when your parents come to talk about their jobs." He pauses before adding, "Mateo's dad is a firefighter. He was there yesterday and he brought his helmet." 

You're unable to hide your surprise at that. Career day, huh? You couldn't remember ever having such a thing in school. When your gaze returns to the poster, you can't help but let it linger on the empty space in the middle. "What are you planning to put there?" 

Following your line of sight, the corner of Cassian's lips tug downward. "I'm supposed to put daddy's job there," He murmurs, almost petulantly. 

"And what does your daddy work with?" You ask, curiosity lacing your words. 

He merely pouts, like the topic of his father's career brought him displeasure. "He's a boss man," Cassian murmurs, still drawing the wonky shape of his cloud as his bottom lip juts out even further.

"A boss man?" You chuckle, slightly endeared at his choice of words, "What does a man boss man do?" 

He doesn't give a response to that, keeping his eyes firmly on the drawing as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

"He means that father is a CEO," Rayne flatly states, having looked up from her own studies as she sends her brother a pointed look. 

Cassian scowls, his grip around the pen tightening impeccably, "But it's not a cool job. Not like Mateo's dad." 

You hum as your gaze shifts between the two children, silently watching their conversation unfold. It became obvious that Rayne and her brother didn't see eye to eye when it came to Jungkook's work — that was new. 

"Sure it is", Shifting in your seat, you try to ease the tension with a smile, "Your daddy makes sure that a lot of people know what to do and when to do it. That's not an easy task, not everyone can be a boss." 

Truth to be told — you had no idea what CEOs actually did, the business of higher ups had never interested you beyond the widespread knowledge that they were all pretentious adult-bullies. Of course, that was not something you could tell a five year old, so you opt for placing a gentle hand on his shoulder instead, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. 

Cassian doesn't say anything for a while, but he doesn't attempt to shrug you off. Huffing under his breath, he reaches for the scissors. "It doesn't matter. He won't come anyway." 

Rayne, for once, does not comment on that. Her attention was back on her books, like she was trying to erase herself from the conversation again. 

"Why do you say that?" You ask, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. 

This time he turns away from your touch and you're unable to see his expression. Cassian sighs, "Because he works a lot. He won't have time for career day." 

For children so devoid of emotion — you still thought you could make out the hurt in his voice, if only for a second before he schooled himself back into his usual self. 

Everything is silent after that, both kids working quietly on their separate homework. You're left to wallow in thought, fingers tapping slowly against the table as your gaze lingers on the trees outside the window. Orange hues were bleeding into the sky, signaling the rapidly approaching evening. 

And yet, there was one question that had been on your mind since you had tried in vain to open the locked door down the hall. One you knew you could not and probably should not ask but still longed to… 

"What about your mom? Could she come and talk about her job?" 

It blurts out before you can stop it, and as soon as it does, the air inside the library seems to grow colder. Neither of the kids speak, in fact they both refuse to as much as glance in your direction. 

Cassian's grip on the scissors was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He was frozen mid cut, brows tugged into a conflicted frown. Rayne, being his older sister, seems to take it upon herself to address the seemingly loaded question. She shakes her head slowly, pen dropping to her notes. 

"She won't come." Her jaw is tightly set as she avoids your gaze. She doesn't give you more than that and when you lean forward to ask why that was, her expression hardens, "She won't come." 

Flipping a page in her book, her eyes returns to the words written there. "Father says we don't have to talk to you about her." It was her way of saying, drop it. So with a reluctant nod, you do. 

Sitting back, albeit a little stiffer, in your chair — you continue to regard the kids as they study in silence. Only this time, none of you break it. 

That evening you decided to cook for Jungkook. It was an impulsive decision you had made after putting the kids to bed. You told yourself that if you had almost two hours to spend before his return, you might as well make use of yourself. And perhaps it had something to do with the fact that you were desperately trying to gain bonus points after your small mishap with the children earlier today. 

That's how you found yourself in front of the stove. Having grabbed the first thing you came across, which ended up being a box of pasta — you were now watching the noodles cook in the boiling water. 

You were a far cry from an actual chef, most of your meals, if not all, were cooked only for yourself. Though you had picked up a thing or two during your shifts at the restaurant, which did fuel your confidence just a tad. 

Jungkook had not asked you to cook for him, it was not on any of his long and detailed lists which might insinuate that you were doing something you shouldn't. But who was he to decline a home cooked meal, especially when coming home late? Draining the pasta water into the sink, you tell yourself that you were doing the right thing. 

The sound of the front door unlocking came at nine pm sharp — just like it had last time. You listen to the sound of fabric rustling and the approaching footsteps, heavy on the hallway carpet. 

A second later, Jungkook appears in the doorway. His shoulders are sagged with exhaustion, the hair he seemed to keep so neat was now falling in messy strands across his forehead. The shirt he wears is unbuttoned around the collar, enough to expose a sliver of skin. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees you, gaze flitting between where you stand and the saucepan filled with pasta on the kitchen island. His expression remains unreadable when he folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe as he regards you with dark eyes. 

Clearing your throat, you shift your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I thought I'd make you dinner," you pause, "Unless… You already ate?" 

Jungkook doesn't say anything as his attention slowly drifts back to the food you had prepared. His face is void of any emotion, save for the subtle crease between his brows. "That is not part of your job." His voice is low, betraying neither anger nor disapproval. 

"I know," You swallow, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. "Didn't have anything to do after putting the kids to bed so I thought I'd save you the trouble." It was a long shot, you half-expect him to brush your efforts off and tell you to leave again. 

But Jungkook scoffs, his shoulders rising slightly as he does. "Trouble," He tsks to himself when he pushes off the doorway. Arms uncurling from his chest, he wordlessly steps toward the kitchen island. 

You watch as he takes a seat, gaze flickering between the empty plate you had laid out and the food. There's a flash of something behind his dark eyes, and you could practically see his decision being made. Then he reaches for the tongs as he begins piling pasta onto his plate. 

You had garnished it with a variety of things found in the kitchen, taste testing about a hundred times to make sure it was at least edible. Now your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you stood on the opposite side of the marble island, looking on quietly as Jungkook reached for his fork. 

Picking some up on the utensil, he brought the food to his lips. For a moment his eyes drifted from the fork in front of him and over to you, his gaze sending a chill down your spine before he took a bite. 

He chewed slowly, eating in that same well-mannered fashion as his children did. When he didn't say anything you felt yourself begin to sweat. Your hands were clammy and you resit the urge to wipe them on your jeans. 

Jungkook had paused after swallowing, fork moving slowly through the pasta as he studied it. Then without another word, he continued to eat. You look on silently, something close to relief blooming in your chest as he takes another bite. 

His gaze shifts up to meet yours, nearly burning holes through you with its intensity. Your breath hitches halfway when his tongue flicks out to wipe some of the sauce from his bottom lip. "It's good," He grunts, his attention returning to the food as he picks up more onto his fork. 

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding, you have to force back a small smile. It felt strangely like progress, slight but significant. Another thick silence falls over the two of you after that — filled by only the sounds of his fork touching the porcelain plate. 

You wondered if he was waiting for you to excuse yourself and head home, perhaps ask about how the kids had been today — show at least some interest in his own children. But he said nothing as he kept eating. 

A few minutes of even more stiff and quiet awkwardness later, you manage to clear your throat. "Cassian said they're having career days at school." You hold your breath, waiting for him to give a response beyond the small twitch of his jaw — and yet again, nothing. Continuing, you clasp your hands behind your back, "He hopes you'll come." 

Jungkook finally sighs, setting down his fork as he reaches for the glass of water you had prepared. "When is it?" He asks as he brings the glass to his lips, dark eyes fixed on you over the rim when he takes a sip. 

"Tuesday two weeks from now", You hum, fingers fiddling nervously with one another where they rest behind you. 

Still seated by the kitchen island, Jungkook heaves a breath as he sets the glass down with a barely audible thud. "I'll be working," He says without looking up from his plate as he takes another bite. 

You can't hide the disappointment that flickers across your face at that. Cassian's words are still fresh in your mind, the endearing pout on his lips and the poster he had spent so long preparing. There was an almost frustrated feeling that gnawed at you when your gaze flickered back to Jungkook who was finishing his dinner, seemingly without a care in the world. 

The corner of your lip twitches and you're unable to stop yourself from blurting out: "Surely you could take some time off to be there for him? It would mean a lot to him if you showed up." 

The look Jungkook sends you makes you instantly want to eat that statement back up and hide behind the kitchen island. His eyes narrow, something dangerously cold searing through them as he watches you. 

"I don't need you to lecture me on how to raise my children." The fork clatters against the now empty plate as he rises to his feet — the sudden movement causing his chair to scrape against the floor with an uncomfortable sound that made you wince. 

The tension in the room is palpable as he grabs the dirty dishes and carries them over to the sink, setting them down with a little more force than needed. His back is turned to you, but you could clearly make out each slow breath he took as his shoulders drew up. 

"I didn't mean to overstep," You murmur, the frown on your forehead deepening until it physically hurt. Gaze flickering to the doorway, you had silently begun to plot your leave when Jungkook suddenly spoke up again, his voice leveled: 

"It's fine." 

Turning on his heel, he comes face to face with you. It was then you realized how close you were standing. Without the kitchen island to separate you and the food to serve its function as a distraction — there was suddenly nothing left between the two of you. 

The scent of his cologne hits you sharply when he takes a step forward, woody and painfully masculine in a way that felt just like him. From here, you could clearly make out each button on his shirt, all staring back at you blankly. Swallowing, you force your eyes to meet his, your fingers uncurling as your hands fall limp by your sides. 

Jungkook suddenly frowns, like he'd seen something you hadn't. "Your pants are dirty," He nods toward the stains of mud on your jeans that you had failed to wash off. 

Following his gaze, your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. "I… Yeah, we went to the park." You chuckle nervously when glancing back at him, "Guess I didn't realize how muddy the swings were." 

There was a brief pause where he didn't say anything at all, simply watching you with an unreadable expression. "You went to the park?" He finally asks, cocking a brow as his attention jumps between you and the stain on your jeans. 

Right, you hadn't called to ask if that was allowed — though judging by his prolonged silence, you could only hope you were in the clear. When you nod, something in his expression shifts. "And the kids played?" He sounded disbelieving, hands stuffing themselves into his pockets. 

You shake your head, sending him an apologetic look, like their disinterest had somehow been your fault. "Not exactly. They weren't too fond of the dirt either." Giving an awkward laugh that quickly dies down when it wasn't reciprocated, you cover the embarrassment up by coughing into your fist. 

One glance at the clock on the microwave has you straightening up like you had just remembered yourself. "I should probably get going," You say, stepping around the kitchen island without waiting for him to speak as you head for the hallway. 

It's Jungkook's voice that makes you halt in the doorframe, rooting you to the spot as you turn to face him. He's leaned against the stove, hands still deep in his pockets as he regards you with those same intense, dark eyes. "And you?" He muses, chin jerking toward the mud on your pants, "You don't mind it?" 

His question catches you off guard, much so that you let out a quiet breath that sounds more like a 'huh?' from where you stand. But Jungkook's continued silence makes you realize that he was being very serious. 

"Yeah," You hum, glancing down at yourself once more. "It's just dirt isn't it? I'll wash it off when I come home." You pause to study him a moment longer before nodding to yourself, "I'll be off then."