paegei !!

What you didn’t expect was the three little dots appearing a few seconds later.

Then:

the__and.y | that’s rich coming from someone who once ate cereal with chopsticks.

You blinked at the screen.

He remembered that?

You stared for a second, surprised. Because sure, idols talked. Some flirted lightly. But Jisung? He didn’t. Not like this. Not casually. Not first.

And definitely not with you.

But something about the way he phrased it — dry, teasing, like he wasn’t trying too hard — made you grin.

So you answered naturally.

yn__s2 | at least I didn’t make instant noodles explode in the microwave.

Another reply.

Faster this time.

the__and.y | that was one time.

yn__s2 | and you’ll never live it down.

That was how it began.

Not with something grand.

But with surprise… and then ease.

And a connection neither of you tried to define — not yet.

No one knew.

At least… that’s what you both kept telling yourselves.

There hadn’t been any real conversations. No “what are we?” or deep declarations. Just a rhythm you fell into without thinking — slow, sweet, and completely yours.

It started months ago. A meme here, a late-night “you good?” there. Voice notes. Shared playlists. A quiet pull between two people who never had to explain why it felt easier to talk to each other than to anyone else.

Now, weeks later, it was routine.

Late-night messages when your dorm was quiet. A “hope you eat something” when rehearsals ran too long. Random screenshots. Inside jokes. Songs sent without explanation.

And it never stopped making you smile.

Especially now.

You were backstage, waiting on your group’s turn for a quick interview segment. The energy around you buzzed — stylists doing final touches, staff with clipboards, lights flickering on and off. But you sat still on the edge of a long bench, legs tucked to the side, staring down at your phone with a look your members had started noticing.

Too often.

“You’ve been smiling at that screen for ten minutes,” Lise said, sipping from a juice pouch.

You blinked. “No, I haven’t.”

Gigi leaned closer. “Is it a boy?”

You almost choked. “What? No. It’s a— meme. Look.” You tilted the phone, showing them a cat in sunglasses. Technically true. Jisung had sent it five minutes ago.

“Hm,” Lise said, unimpressed. “Cute cat. But not ten-minute-smile cute.”

You locked the phone and shoved it in your pocket.

Across the hallway, a familiar laugh reached your ears. You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. Jisung always laughed like he was trying not to — like he hated the sound but couldn’t stop it.

Your lips twitched involuntarily.

Gigi noticed.

She didn’t say anything, but her eyebrow did all the work.

Meanwhile, Jisung was going through the same thing.

The moment your message came in — “your song’s been stuck in my head all day, I hate you (not really)” — he grinned without realizing. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then backspaced twice just to make sure it was the right amount of flirty.

From the couch, Jaemin looked up.

“Who are you texting?”

“No one,” Jisung said too fast.

Mark glanced over, catching the tail end of the notification banner on his screen. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m not smiling,” Jisung said. Still smiling.

Chenle walked by and sang, “Somebody’s got a cru~ush.”

“Shut up,” Jisung muttered, ears already red.

He slid his phone under a pillow, but Jaemin just smirked and leaned in.

“You know we’re not stupid, right?”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Exactly,” Jaemin whispered dramatically. “You’re not doing anything. Which is why you look like you want to explode.”

Jisung groaned.

You didn’t talk every single day.

Some nights were quiet. Some mornings too chaotic. But you’d fallen into this rhythm where neither of you questioned the silence. And when it picked up again, it always felt just as easy.

There were moments, though, where you both slipped.

A smile held too long during a music show crossover.

An accidental eye contact across rehearsal studios.

That one time he handed you a bottle of water without anyone asking — and everyone around blinked in confusion like: since when do you two speak?

It wasn’t a secret.

But it wasn’t public either.

You liked it that way. Yours. Quiet. Sweet.

But the problem with smiling at your phone too much was that your members were no longer letting it slide.

“Alright,” Sora said one night in the dorm living room. “We need to talk.”

You looked up from your spot on the floor, blanket over your legs, phone in hand. “About?”

She stared pointedly at your phone. “About that.”

Gigi flopped next to you. “It’s getting obvious. You’ve been extra glowy.”

Hana sat on the other couch, munching popcorn. “It’s kind of cute, though.”

You tried not to panic. “There’s nothing going on.”

Lise tilted her head. “So… you’re telling us you’re not talking to anyone?”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because technically, you weren’t dating anyone.

You were just talking.

A lot.

With Jisung.

You cleared your throat. “It’s… just a friend.”

That was enough to make the room erupt.

“Aha!”

“Knew it!”

“Name. Now.”

You buried your face in the blanket. “You’ll laugh.”

“We’re already laughing,” Sora grinned.

You mumbled something.

They leaned in.

“Park Jisung,” you repeated, slightly louder.

And the room exploded.

Meanwhile, Jisung was under attack.

“I KNEW IT!” Chenle yelled.

Renjun blinked slowly. “So it is her.”

“What are you talking about?” Jisung tried to lie, casually scrolling TikTok with his phone upside down.

Mark gave him a look. “You don’t text anyone like that.”

“It’s not like that,” Jisung insisted. “We’re just… talking.”

“Do you smile like that when we text you?” Jaemin asked.

“I don’t smile when you text me at all.”

“Exactly.”

Jisung sighed, finally setting the phone down.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She’s just… easy to talk to. She’s funny. Smart. Not trying too hard.”

Mark softened. “So you like her?”

Jisung hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

Chenle grinned. “You’re doomed.”

The next few days were even harder to keep subtle.

Every time your phone buzzed, someone peeked over your shoulder. Every time you disappeared for “five minutes,” your members giggled. They started teasing you mid-sentence, whispering “I bet he’s texting her right now” every time you stepped out of the room.

Jisung wasn’t safe either.

At one point, during a break in dance practice, he checked his phone and smiled without realizing. Again.

Mark saw. Jaemin saw. Everyone saw.

And suddenly, the whole room broke into a chorus of “ooooooh”s.

“I hate all of you,” Jisung muttered.

“You love her,” Haechan sang.

He threw a towel at him.

But honestly?

You didn’t mind.

Because even though neither of you had said the words — even though it wasn’t official — it was something.

And it felt good.

Sweet.

Like the start of something that didn’t need to be rushed.

The next time you saw him in person, it was chaotic. Both groups had overlapping schedules, the hallways were packed, the managers were barking instructions, and your brain was fried from back-to-back stages.

But in the middle of it all, Jisung passed you a granola bar.

Said nothing.

Just smiled, that soft smile, and kept walking.

You stared at the wrapper in your hand.

He didn’t need to say it.

You already knew.

That night, you texted him:

yn__s2 | so when do we admit we’re not hiding this very well?

He replied a minute later:

the__and.y | maybe never. I like it like this.

Then:

the__and.y | you’re still smiling at your phone, aren’t you?

You typed back:

yn__s2 | …maybe

Your screen lit up again.

This time, it was a selfie.

Jisung, in bed, blanket up to his chin, a tiny grin on his face.

The next day, you mentioned heading back to the café. You didn’t even finish the sentence before he was reaching for his jacket.

“I’ll come with you.”

You tilted your head. “Thought you hated their oat milk.”

“Maybe I’ll give it another shot.” He didn’t meet your eyes as he said it, but you caught the flush rising in his cheeks.

You just smirked. “Sure.”

The café buzzed with its usual morning rhythm, but the moment the two of you walked in together, everything seemed to shift.

Jisung’s hand found yours immediately—his fingers cool but firm. His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist like a nervous habit. You ordered together, and while you spoke, he leaned in close. His presence was unmistakable—quiet, grounding, but unmistakably there.

The barista turned around and paused when they saw you weren’t alone.

“Well, well,” he grinned, eyeing the hand on your waist. “Didn’t know you were bringing a plus-one.”

You offered a polite smile. Your partner said nothing, but you felt the small tightening of his grip.

“And what can I get for you, mystery man?” the barista asked, too sweet, too amused.

“Oat milk latte,” your boyfriend replied flatly, gaze steady.

“Oat milk?” the barista teased. “Bold choice.”

“He likes it bitter,” you said quickly, shooting your partner a glance—his eyes never left the barista.

As you moved to wait for your drinks, he pulled you subtly closer, arm now looped around your shoulders. The tension in his jaw was faint, but you could see it. His lips hovered close to your ear.

“Heart foam again?” he whispered.

You snorted. “Yours better be even bigger.”

When the drinks were handed over, there was no heart in the foam this time. No napkin note. No extra sweetness. Just two cups, side by side.

You stepped out into the sunlight, warm drinks in hand, and walked in silence for a while. His hand stayed in yours, thumb brushing over your skin again and again.

“Okay,” you finally said, nudging him with your elbow. “So… someone was feeling a little territorial there.”

He sighed through his nose, sheepish. “I wasn’t—”

“You absolutely were.”

A pause. Then he mumbled, “It’s just… that place is ours, y’know? And I didn’t like the way they looked at you. Like they could just walk into it. Into us.”

You stopped walking and turned to face him. He kept his gaze down, always a little shy when his feelings were too loud. But you reached for his face, cupped his cheeks gently.

“That café is ours. Our spot. Our memories. No one’s rewriting them unless we say so.”

He finally met your eyes, his cheeks flushed pink. There was a small knot of worry in his expression, but it was unraveling.

“Come on,” you said with a small smile, tugging him toward the café again. “Let’s go make some new memories. Window seat. Your playlist. My bad jokes.”

He laughed under his breath. “God, I love you.”

“And I love my quiet, jealous little coffee snob.”

Back at the café, the window seat was waiting. You shared headphones, drinks, stories you already knew just to hear each other’s voices. And this time, your cup had both your names scribbled in the corner—his handwriting.

Possession isn't always loud. Sometimes it's quiet hands and hard stares.

You thought it was over.

The drinks etched only with your names, the subtle yet unmistakable way your boyfriend had reasserted his place beside you. The quiet death of the barista’s flirty spark behind the counter.

But apparently… that was only round one.

It was two days later when you dropped by alone again—Jisung was holed up in the studio, headphones like armor over his ears, hunched over his desk with tired eyes and calloused fingertips stained with ink and half-finished lyrics. He hadn’t eaten. Barely spoken. You kissed the crown of his head and promised to bring him something warm, something sweeter than the stress he was drowning in.

You should’ve known something was off the second the bell chimed and the barista’s gaze landed on you like it was a secret you’d come back to share.

“Ooh,” he drawled, voice dripping with heat and honey, the kind that stuck to your skin. “Back so soon? Thought maybe you’d switched allegiances.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Didn’t see you yesterday.” He leaned on the counter like it was a casual thought, but his eyes didn’t waver. They slid over your face, pausing at your lips just a moment too long. “Figured you might’ve sold out to that soulless chain down the street.”

You gave a polite laugh, more amused than flattered. “Nah. Just busy. My boyfriend’s buried in work.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly, nodding like he had you all figured out. “The ever-elusive boyfriend. I don’t blame him, though. If I had someone like you waiting at home, I wouldn’t get anything done either.”

Your lips parted, somewhere between a laugh and a wince. “You’re bold.”

He grinned, lazy and too familiar. “I am.”

Your drink came with a heart again—bigger this time, taking up the entire surface of the foam. He slid it toward you, and with it, another napkin.

You barely read the message—something about being available if he ever gets too busy for you—before you folded it swiftly and shoved it into your pocket. Not because it meant something. But because it didn’t. Not really. Not when your heart was already home.

You didn’t say anything when you got back. Just handed Jisung the drink, kissed his temple, and slipped into your room to change. He murmured a tired thank you, lips brushing your wrist, his fingers curling weakly around the cup like he was already somewhere else.

But you should’ve known better.

He saw the foam. Saw the heart. And maybe you didn’t notice—but your hoodie smelled like the café’s cinnamon syrup and just the slightest hint of something else.

Too much attention.

That night, he said nothing. But the next morning?

He was already dressed, shoes on, waiting by the door like a quiet storm when you reached for your keys.

“You’re… coming with me?” you asked, surprised.

He nodded once. Calm. Soft.

Absolutely terrifying.

The café was quiet that early—just a few regulars, the gentle clink of ceramic, the hiss of milk being steamed. Peaceful, in theory. But when the two of you stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted like a held breath.

The barista turned, spotted you… and smirked.

“Well, well,” he said, tone sliding into a grin. “You brought the boyfriend again. I was starting to think he didn’t exist. That you were just playing a little—”

Jisung didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Just stood beside you, hands tucked in his hoodie pocket, jaw set in that subtle, silent way of his—like he was anchoring himself from doing more.

“He exists,” you said simply, your voice firmer than usual. The tension wrapped around you like static.

The barista tilted his head. “So… your usual?”

“Two of them,” Jisung answered, before you could speak. His voice low. Steady. But unmistakably sharp. “But this time, I’ll watch you make them.”

The grin on the barista’s face faltered just a little.

“Oh? Don’t trust me?”

Jisung smiled—not wide, not warm. Just enough. A flicker of teeth, a warning in disguise. “I just want to make sure there aren’t any… extra messages being served.”

The barista arched a brow, leaning in. “If there are… maybe they weren’t meant for you.”

That’s when Jisung moved.

No words. No scene.

He just stepped in—slow, certain—and slipped his arm around your waist, his hand spreading warm and possessive at your hip. He pulled you into him, gently but without hesitation, as if to say, She’s mine. This is where she belongs.

“They’re always meant for me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but weighty enough to ground you.

You looked up at him. His gaze never left the barista, but his fingers traced soft circles into your side—steadily, reassuringly. He wasn’t angry. Not really. He was staking a claim the only way he knew how. Not through volume. Through presence.

The drinks came—this time, plain. No hearts. No swirls. No notes folded like flirtation on a napkin. Just sealed cups. Precise. Polite.

You turned to leave, but Jisung’s hand lingered on your back.

“Hold on.”

He pulled a pen from his pocket—one of those thick studio pens he always carried—and scrawled something across the side of his cup. Then handed it back.

The barista took it, scanned it slowly, and his lips tightened.

Already taken. Forever. Don’t try again.

Outside, the air was crisp. The silence between you buzzed with unspoken things. You took a few steps before glancing sideways, unable to hide the grin pulling at your mouth.

“You don’t even like their oat milk.”

Jisung shrugged, eyes softening a little. “Didn’t need to. I just needed to remind him.”

You looped your arm through his. “You really think he stood a chance?”

He looked down at you, cheeks tinged pink, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“No,” he said, voice low. Honest. “But I’m not taking any chances with you.”

If he can’t beat the barista, he’ll become one. Eventually.

Later that evening, after the chaos had simmered down and the tension from the café had melted into something resembling laughter, the apartment settled into a quiet hum. Golden lamplight bathed the room in warmth, your favorite blanket draped over your legs as you curled into the couch, lost in the pages of your book. Outside, the city moved on, but here inside—everything had slowed.

You were halfway through a chapter when you felt the shift.

Jisung hovered in the doorway, half-shrouded in the shadow of the hallway. His hoodie swallowed most of him, sleeves tugged over his knuckles, hair tousled like he’d run a hand through it one too many times. His eyes flicked to you, then darted toward the kitchen, like he was unsure which direction to commit to.

You looked up, smiling. “Everything okay?”

He scratched the back of his neck, fingers lingering as if buying time. “I, uh… I was thinking.” His voice was soft, uncertain. “Maybe we don’t need the café anymore.”

You tilted your head. “Oh?”

“I mean—” He waved a hand, like the words were still forming as he spoke. “It’s been kinda… weird. And maybe I overreacted. Or maybe I didn’t. But the whole place doesn’t feel right anymore. Not after that. And I don’t want you walking in there and dealing with that energy just for a coffee.” He paused, breath catching for a second. “I want you to have something better.”

Your heart softened at the edges. He wasn’t just thinking about jealousy or pride. He was thinking about you. Your comfort. Your mornings.

“What are you saying?” you asked, closing your book fully now.

“I wanna make you coffee,” he said, a little too quickly. Then added, quieter, “Here. Like… every morning. From now on.”

You blinked. “You’re gonna become my personal barista?”

He nodded once, solemn and determined despite the obvious nerves tightening his shoulders. “Starting tomorrow.”

You bit back a grin. “You’re really serious about this.”

“So serious,” he mumbled, already turning on his heel before you could tease him more.

The next morning… was something else entirely.

You wandered into the kitchen still half-asleep, dragging your blanket like a cloak, hair a mess, and socks mismatched. But whatever dreams you had been floating through were quickly swept away by the chaos in front of you.

The kitchen looked like it had hosted a small, very polite explosion.

Jisung stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hoodie abandoned somewhere behind him. His hair was even messier than yours, sticking up in tufts like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. He held a milk frother in one hand, his phone balanced precariously on a stack of cookbooks, a how-to video playing quietly. The countertop was littered with sugar packets, half-spilled coffee grounds, two rejected mugs already in the sink, and what might have been a trail of cinnamon leading nowhere.

The air smelled like burnt espresso, desperation, and a hint of cinnamon vanilla—his favorite.

He turned at the sound of your steps, eyes wide and hopeful. But behind that hope was a sheepish, flustered sort of panic that was unmistakably him.

“I tried to do the little heart thing,” he admitted, motioning vaguely to the mug in front of him. “It, uh. Looks more like a butt.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed—soft, affectionate. The foam was definitely… interpretive. A little too much swirl, a bit sunken on one side. But the drink was warm, fragrant, and most importantly, made by his hands. For you.

You took a careful sip.

It was… terrible.

Burnt. A little too bitter. Possibly brewed with salt instead of sugar. You weren’t entirely sure.

But he was watching you like a nervous golden retriever that had brought you a very mangled tennis ball, tail wagging but unsure if this counted as a good deed.

You smiled through the sip. “It’s perfect.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Absolutely,” you said with a small grin. “But I appreciate the effort.”

He groaned and collapsed forward, burying his face against your shoulder with a muffled groan. “I swear I followed the video exactly.”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his waist, tugging him close. His body sagged against yours, warm and heavy, like he’d been holding up the world with caffeine and love and now he could finally exhale.

“You’re already better than that barista,” you whispered.

He mumbled something unintelligible into your neck.

You pulled back just enough to see his face, your hand brushing the messy fringe out of his eyes. “Wanna know why?”

He blinked at you, quiet, waiting.

“Because you’re doing this for me. Not to impress anyone. Not to win some stupid game. Just because you love me. That makes every sip taste better.”

His expression cracked wide open at that—eyes softening, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his lips like a flower blooming in slow motion.

“I’m gonna get it right,” he said, earnest. “Even if it takes a hundred tries.”

And over the next few days, he did.

One mug at a time.

There were a few near disasters—like the day he frothed milk too long and it exploded onto the cabinets, or the time he accidentally poured in orange juice instead of oat milk. But with each attempt, he learned. He adjusted. He grew.

He found a playlist that matched the rhythm of morning light. He learned to warm the mugs beforehand. He figured out how to swirl the milk just right, even if the hearts still sometimes looked like melting clouds.

And one morning—just as the first golden rays slipped through the blinds—he placed a mug in front of you with foam shaped into something charmingly lopsided, but unmistakable.

A heart.

You kissed him before taking a sip.

Later that week, the two of you curled up on the couch together—your legs tangled, his hoodie pulled over both of you like a makeshift blanket. He handed you a fresh mug, the foam swirled into… something.

“It’s supposed to be a cat,” he mumbled, cheeks pink. “But it might be a bear. Or a… puddle.”

You took a sip, leaned your head on his shoulder, and sighed. “It’s perfect.”

He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you close, his cheek pressed to your temple.

And in that moment, you knew:

You didn’t need the café.

You didn’t need the foam hearts or the passive-aggressive flirting.

You didn’t need anything but this.

Him.

Love is in the mornings you don’t want to leave the bed, and the coffees that taste like effort.

The house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the kettle and the distant, gentle beat of rain tapping on the windows. The sky is still tucked in sleep, painted in shades of pale lavender and steel blue, and everything outside feels like it’s holding its breath.

Inside, though—it’s warm.

Jisung’s standing in the kitchen again, barefoot on cool tiles, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows in that slightly clumsy way he always does it. He’s squinting at the milk frother like it personally offended him, brows furrowed, lips pursed in deep concentration.

You watch from the doorway for a moment, heart squeezing at how much he wants this to be right. Not because he needs to be perfect—but because he wants to give you something that feels like care, poured in steam and effort and quiet devotion.

He finally notices you, and the serious look on his face softens immediately. The way his eyes crinkle, the tiny, lopsided smile that appears—it’s all so him. A little awkward, a little unsure, but so full of love it nearly knocks the breath out of you.

“You’re up early,” he says, voice still raspy with sleep, like velvet rubbed the wrong way. “I was trying to surprise you.”

You pad closer, feet silent on the floor, arms wrapping around his waist from behind. You press your cheek to his back, breathing him in—coffee beans and cotton, warmth and him.

“You already do,” you murmur.

He turns in your arms, hands instinctively finding your waist. One of them is still slightly sticky from the syrup he was experimenting with. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“I wanted to try a new recipe,” he says. “Hazelnut vanilla, with a little cinnamon. I know it’s your favorite combo.”

You smile against his chest. “Did it turn out?”

A sheepish pause.

“…Kinda?”

You laugh softly, and it earns you a pout. He’s cute when he sulks, especially when he’s trying to impress you and it doesn’t quite land.

You kiss the tip of his nose. “I’ll love it even if it’s terrible.”

Ji mutters something about low standards, but his ears turn pink and he lets you pull him over to the couch while the kettle finishes heating. He hands you a blanket before settling beside you, your legs thrown over his lap, your body instinctively curling into the space he makes for you.

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the video tutorial again like he’s studying for an exam. You watch him, amusement mixing with something deeper—gratitude, affection, a quiet awe for this man who keeps trying. Keeps choosing you, over and over, in a thousand tiny ways that never need to be loud to be meaningful.

Soon, the smell of fresh coffee fills the room.

He disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes, and you hear the clinking of cups, the telltale hiss of the frother, the light thud of a cabinet being closed too hard.

When he returns, he’s balancing two mugs, eyebrows furrowed, lip caught between his teeth.

“Don’t laugh,” he warns as he hands one to you.

You look down. The foam art is… abstract again. A little swirl, a weird heart shape that might’ve once had dreams of being a leaf. But it smells divine, and the warmth seeps through your fingers as you take your first sip.

It’s perfect. Not because it’s a barista’s masterpiece. But because it tastes like late nights and early mornings, like whispered I love yous in half-sleep, like the effort it takes to care for someone with your whole chest.

Your boyfriend watches your face, nervous.

You let out a happy sigh. “I’ve never had better.”

The relief on his face is almost comical, and you can’t help but laugh as he relaxes against you. He sets his mug down and wraps his arms around you from the side, lips brushing your temple, then your cheek, then just resting there, warm and soft.

“Next time,” he mumbles, “I’m gonna try the tulip design.”

You hum against him. “Even if it looks like a splat, I’ll still love it.”

He chuckles. “It probably will.”

You shift closer, tucking yourself into his arms, coffee resting on the arm of the couch, the rain outside still soft and steady.

“Maybe we should make this our thing,” you whisper. “Messy coffee mornings. Lazy, rainy days.”

His voice is low, wrapped in something gentle and real. “Yeah. I like that.”

And in that little corner of the world—just the two of you, tangled in blankets and the scent of cinnamon—you realize:

It doesn’t matter how the coffee turns out.

He’s already your favorite way to start the day.

☆ masterlist + notes. can you tell i got a bit carried away? it's just that... jealous ji is my favourite kind of jihsjdkdsjd

camboy!jisung’s first video, dark, blurry lighting, iphone in one hand, hard dick in the other, front camera angled down to hide his face above his pretty lips, clumsily jerking off to the faint sounds of some porn video in the background, his soft breathing and quiet, low moans, ‘til he cums all over his phone, like… 3 minutes long. wiping away the cum off his screen, and posting the video before he can think about it. and then he went to sleep, trying to forget it. like he’d get any views anyways. oh… jisung was so wrong about that.

camboy!jisung’s first video explodes across the cam site, so clumsy but something about how amateur this boy with bitten, parted lips and a big, veiny cock is charming. constant comments about his huge hands, dms wanting dick pics, tips pouring in, 99+ notifications when jisung wakes up to his screen flooded with notif tabs. oh. people liked it…? and no one knows who he is. thousands of followers just for one 3 minute video.

camboy!jisung never shows his full face on camera, it’s part of his appeal, this pretty, hidden boy and his secrets. videos taken in the mirror, his long legs spread and head tilted back, shaky camera when he’s close, sticky ropes of cum spilling on his adidas sweats and long fingers, cropped to hide his upper face. voice-only cam streams, thousands of viewers sending him $50 for him to moan their name while he slowly jerks off, lewd sounds and panting whines, rustles of his sheets and his low, deep voice like an asmr. hundreds of dollars paid for exclusive nudes and lewds, constant dms begging to do a collab.

…

camboy!jisung… can’t keep secrets forever, can he? not when he meets you, the kind of crush that has him instantly smitten, maybe shy attracts shy? awkward but cute first dates, wait, where did a college student get so much money from to spend buying you flowers every date? especially when he works part time as an unpaid dancer. there’s something that makes him cough and brush it off whenever you ask if he’s spending too much money on this dinner date when jisung doesn’t want to split the check. cute kisses after he walks you home, biting his lip when he gets home because how much longer can he keep his secret? would you… still like him back?

camboy!jisung whose secret is exposed during a movie night. opening his laptop to choose a movie when he goes to make popcorn, only to open to a cam site. a quick scroll shows his photos, videos, thousands of followers, and dms. jisung… are you a camboy? poor boy with his hands holding a bag of popcorn, god, he’s so nervous you’ll dump him right then and there, his voice a quiet mumble. um… yeah. i didn’t know how to… tell you. is it… not okay with you? jisung’s heart about to beat out of his chest, ‘cause he’s pretty sure his heart is about to be broken in 10 seconds, he’s so scared. until you tug him down by his shirt collar to kiss him, i love you, of course it’s okay. the kind of clumsy, losing your virginity to each other sex, now there’s no more secrets. (and jisung learns getting laid is so much better than his hand)

that cam couple everyone envies, ‘cause you’re so obviously obsessed with each other, jisung’s account now filled with your sex tapes. uploads of his fingers knuckles deep in your pussy while you’re sitting in his lap, his low, quiet voice murmuring dirty thoughts to you, but barely audible to your audience. his hands gripping your hair as he pushes your head down, lewd sounds of sucking him off, loving praises laced with his breathy moans. like… how can one couple upload so many videos every week,, not even including the sex you have off screen? so insane in love.

You hum, understanding how stressful this was for him. He needed to complete the album before the deadline that was fast approaching. "You will Mark, you always do."

He smiles at that, standing from his chair, stretching before falling onto the couch next to you, his head landing in your lap. You play with his hair as he stares at the ceiling, deep in thought. The sound of his breathing steadied your own.

You watched as a light bulb turned on in his brain, and he sits up with a gasp. "I know!"

"What?" You ask, almost as excited as him.

"Uh, I'll need to get your opinion first," Mark starts and you urge him to continue. He hesitates for a moment before finally stating, "I need your moans in the song."

Your eyes widen, almost choking on your own spit. "Woah, lets unpack that..."

"No way your fans would be chill with that, for one. Same with your company, babe." You explained, and Mark listened intently before smirking as you finished.

"It'll be fine, they'll be super quiet in the song, like barely there. I could get away with it. If my fans notice, then they notice." Mark reasons and you sigh in defeat.

"I'm fine with it if you are sure." You smile, kind of excited to do this.

Mark's hand is now on your thigh, looking at you teasingly. "How about we do it now?"

You hadn't been intimate in a while because of Mark's packed schedule. You bit your lip, fuck, you were pent up from all these weeks without him. "God, please."

Mark's hand leaves your thigh and you watch as he reaches over to the microphone he had set up next to the computer, bringing it a little closer and pressing record. "I'll ask one more time, are you sure you're okay with this?" He asks as he settles back next to you.

You nod, smiling lovingly. "Yeah I am, Mark."

His hands trails up your thighs, leaning in and his lips are finally on yours, determined and needy. You bit his lip in desperation, and he opens his mouth enough where you can slip your tongue.

Your hands were bunched on his t-shirt and his hands were under your skirt, dancing on your skin and setting it aflame. When you pull back for air, Mark keeps eye contact as he pulls your panties to the side, his cold fingers brushing your clit making you whine.

"Mark." You whisper breathlessly, your hands now on the hem of his shirt, and he lets you take it off in one swift motion. "Pretty boy."

He blushes at this as he takes your shirt off too, leaving you in your bra. You decide to push your own skirt down, impatience taking over you. "Please, I need you."

"I know baby, just wait." He murmurs, one hand absentmindedly rubbing your inner thigh as the other pets your hair. Then, finally, his hand leaves your thigh and touches you where you craved Mark most.

It started off as light, slow circles on your clit. "You're so wet, baby." He smirks, as two of his fingers now slide up and down your folds, before he dips them into your entrance. "Mmm, more." You moan.

He pushes them inside to the knuckle and starts curling them right where you liked it most. "Fuck, Mark!"

You were soon filled with disappointment when he pulled his fingers out of you. You watched as Mark slid off the couch and sunk onto his knees, pulling your panties down with him, settling his head in your thighs.

You felt his breath tickle your folds before he dives in, tongue lapping at you like a dog in heat. Your hands fly to Mark's hair in no time, turning you into nothing but a whimpering mess.

His tongue sucked on your clit as his fingers curled into you again, hitting your g-spot at every angle. "Ah, fffuck, Mark.." You slurred, pulling his hair making him groan against you.

Mark could feel your walls clenching his fingers as his mouth does wonders on your clit, and you could feel the tightness in your stomach about to snap. "Mark, I'm gonna..."

"Cum for me, baby girl." He rasps against your heat and one last prod at your g-spot had you seeing stars, moaning loudly as you came undone.

Mark doesn't stop, still devouring you while you shook above him. "Shit, stop, 's too much!" You whimpered.

You had to pull his head back for him to stop, and Mark looks up at you with a dazed grin, his mouth covered in your juices and he looked so beautiful like this.

He licked his fingers clean of your juices, never breaking eye contact, before raising from his spot on the floor. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt, pulling his boxers down along with his pants as fast as possible.

"I need you inside of me right now." You said desperately, and Mark flipped you over on the couch so that you were facing the wall, back arched, and he was standing behind you.

Mark's hands found purchase on your ass first, giving it a playful smack which made you whimper embarrassingly loud.

Looking back, you watched as Mark's other hand pumped his hardened cock slowly, tip leaking precum, as he finally places it between your folds, rubbing it up and down teasingly.

"Mark, please." You whined, and Mark just chuckled. "So impatient, baby. I'll fuck you real good, promise."

You silently screamed as Mark enters you for the first time in a while, his big cock stretching you painfully as he slowly bottoms out. Soon, the pain fades away. "Can I move?" He whispers, his hand on the small of your back, soothingly rubbing it as he waits.

"Yes." You sigh out as Mark pulls out of you before slamming right back in, making you cry out. He soon finds a good pace that had you gripping the couch and moaning loudly.

"Such a tight pussy, made for me." Mark whispers in your ear, voice raspy, as he leans over you, kissing your neck and leaving marks you were gonna have to cover up before you left the studio. Thank god this place was sound proof and had no cameras.

"Harder," You whined. Mark obliges, and soon your legs were shaking. He thrusts deep inside, you swore you could see the outline of his cock if you looked down. "Oh, fuck, right there!"

Mark was getting close now too, his soft groans turning into desperate moans and whimpers. It was always music to your ears whenever he made those noises. "Cum in me, baby."

"Fuck, you sure?" Mark groans, thrusts getting sloppy as his hand slides down your chest to your clit, applying pressure there. "Please." You moan, and Mark holds his own orgasm off until you cum again.

After a few more moments, the pressure on your clit got too much and your legs were shaking uncontrollably, Mark's hands digging into your hips to ground you as you screamed his name.

"That's it baby, let go for me. You're so beautiful." Mark praises as he finally thrusts into you one last time before releasing inside you.

Your pants filled the room, and Mark pulls out of you before flipping you over. He watches as his cum drips out of your folds and groans at the sight. "Such a good girl."

Mark pulls his clothes back on quickly before grabbing tissues, wetting them with the water bottle on his desk and cleaning you up. He kisses your thighs tenderly while he does.

"I love you, Mark." You murmur as your fingers cascade through his hair. He smiles up at you with those eyes that made you melt. "I love you too, y/n."

After you got dressed and calmed down, you and Mark decided to review the audio. Even you found your own moans sexy as you listened.

When Mark added them into the song the next day, you realised he was right. The song did need them, making it so much more seducing like he was trying to go for.

You decided you'd help him out with his music more often after that.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, looking around the coffee shop that you were at. Your eldest stepbrother had asked to meet with you, and you couldn’t imagine that it was anything good—certainly not just to get coffee and catch up. You hadn’t ordered anything, wanting to be able to make a quick escape if needed.

Seohyuk usually didn’t request a meeting with you. If he wanted to talk to you, he typically called to tell you he was going to stop by on his way to or from work, or just dropped by unannounced. That’s why you were extra on edge. You had arrived early, and kept checking the time every two minutes or so.

Finally, you saw him walking in, and thankfully he was alone, not accompanied by either of his younger brothers or his mother. Seohyuk was much easier to handle on his own. You made eye contact with him, but didn’t wave or make any move to stand up and greet him as he arrived at your table. He sat down across from you, looking rather disheveled. His hair was unkempt as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day and hadn’t looked in a mirror to fix it, his tie was loose and askew, his dress shirt crumpled, and his suit jacket that you knew he typically wore to work was missing entirely. He was also pink-cheeked and seemed to be trying to hide how heavily he was breathing, as if he had run here and didn’t want you to know.

“Good afternoon, Seohyuk,” you said politely, opting not to comment on his appearance.

He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Y/N.”

“Do you have a concern with the house? Or is this a question about possessions?” You decided to just be direct. Those were pretty much the only two things he ever contacted you about.

When your mother passed away six months ago and you moved out of her and Hyukjun’s house, the property had gone to your three stepbrothers. Which meant that your life since then had been a seemingly endless string of inquiries over you “damaging” the home while you had lived there, or you “stealing” stuff that was “rightfully” theirs when you moved out—i.e., items that were actually your mother’s, but they tried to claim were Hyukjun’s.

“The house,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “Do you want it?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise, your carefully neutral expression falling right off your face. “Wait, what?”

“Do you want the house?”

“Like, Hyukjun’s house? The one that you just got?” You clarified. “You’re... trying to sell it to me? I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have the money to buy a house.”

“No, no, you can have it,” he sounded and looked absolutely defeated.

You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately suspicious. “What’s wrong with it? What could you have done to it in six months?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” He pleaded. “It’s pretty much the same, we actually fixed up some of the wiring, stuff like that. We’ve tried to rent it out, but nobody will stay.”

“You can’t keep your renters?”

“We’ve had four different tenants, none of them lasted longer than a month.”

“What? Why? It’s a great house.”

Seohyuk’s face screwed up as if he just ate a lemon; he clearly didn’t want to tell you the reason.

“Come on, I already know somebody died in the house,” you scoffed. “What is it?”

“They all said it’s haunted,” he finally blurted out. “And I mean, you know it’s an old house, it creaks and stuff sometimes—I tried to tell them that. They said the lights would flicker, so we replaced the bulbs. Cold spots—We had a guy look at the A/C, he said it was fine. Then it was things disappearing from one room and reappearing in another room, and they swore nobody who lived there moved them. One couple said they started on a jigsaw puzzle before they went to bed and when they woke up, it was all put together.”

You slowly nodded, very carefully controlling your facial expressions as you tried to figure out what reaction you should be having to this. Skepticism? Curiosity? Unease?

“All of your tenants said stuff like that happened?” You clarified.

“Every single one,” he confirmed. “And it got worse with each new one. The first one moved out after a month. The second, two weeks. Third, a week. The last one only lasted three days.”

You squinted at him suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest. “And why do you think I would want to live there?”

“I’m not a superstitious man whatsoever,” he adjusted his tie a bit, “but after all this, I went to the house myself to see what was going on.”

“What, did you bring a Ouija board or something?” You joked, sitting back in your chair.

“I felt ridiculous bringing it in, but yes.”

You knew you were giving him the most incredulous look ever, but he went on with his story anyway.

“I sat down with the board in the living room and asked if there was a spirit in the home. Something cold touched my hands, then the pointer moved to yes.”

“Planchette.”

“Hm?”

“It’s called a planchette,” you corrected him dryly.

“Right.”

“So what happened next?”

Seohyuk continued, “I asked if it was your mother first. I figured that was most reasonable, since she had just…”

“Passed away in the house right before all this started happening?” You filled in for him.

“Yes. But the… planchette moved to no. So then I asked if it was my dad. Again, no.”

“I still don’t see how this leads to me taking the possibly haunted house back from you,” you reminded him, desperately suppressing your giddiness.

“Look, I asked if it was an evil spirit, and it said no.”

“Why would an evil spirit tell you it was evil?”

“It hasn’t hurt anybody, or damaged anything, or done anything bad at all!” Seohyuk was practically begging now. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it: you lived there for two years while you took care of your mom, and nothing like this happened that whole time, right?”

“No, I can’t say anything like this happened,” you tepidly agreed.

“The spirit must have been there the whole time you were there, and it only started doing this stuff once you left. I think if you go back, it should… calm down.”

You let silence hang in the air for a few moments, holding his eye contact, admittedly enjoying seeing him squirm under your gaze as he seemed to realize how crazy all of that sounded. Finally, you sighed, “I don’t know, Seohyuk, my new place is closer to my job…”

“I will pay you to take it at this point. We can’t rent it, or sell it, this has become an absolute nightmare.” He clasped his hands in front of him, quite literally begging now.

“And you’ll stop harassing me about our parents’ possessions?”

“Yes, yes.”

You pretended to contemplate this again, despite your mind being made up from the very beginning. After another agonizingly long bout of silence, you asked, “How much?”

When your mom was first put on hospice over a year ago now, you had started preparing to leave hers and Hyukjun’s house—and trying anything and everything to bring Jisung with you. You knew that once she passed, your stepbrothers wouldn’t give you much time to get out, so you had to make all your preparations long before then so you could vacate at the drop of a hat. Packing, cleaning, deciding what of your mother’s you were going to keep and what you would be donating, figuring out how to move your ghost boyfriend from one parcel of land to your new apartment.

First you’d tried taking all of the original kitchen cabinet knobs with you, but after fourteen hours, he still blipped back to the house. When a contractor was over doing some repairs, you pocketed a chunk of brick and tried that—six hours. A piece of the foundation—ten hours. Cabinet knobs, brick, and foundation—that was the longest, a full twenty-four hours; you had an overnight errand to run for your mother and tried it then.

You eventually branched out in your search for a way to move Jisung, checking out all sorts of books from the library and staying up late reading blog posts. But no matter what sort of herbs, metals, crystals, or recitation you tried, you could never beat time—he was always eventually, frustratingly, pulled back to the house.

And now here you were, in front of the house again. The flowers had seen better days, looking a little sad as you stopped to inspect their wilting petals and sandy dirt around them. You frowned to yourself, putting that near the top of your mental to-do list. The windows of the two-story townhouse were dark, and the porch swing looked like it had been sanded and re-stained along with the rest of the porch.

Turning the key in the lock of the front door, you heard the familiar click of the mechanism and wrapped your hand around the door handle. You pushed it open, slightly disappointed when you didn’t hear the usual creak of the hinges—they must have been oiled since you left. The house was quiet and dim, and you shut the door behind you.

Looking around expectantly, you called out into the seemingly empty home, “Jisung? Come on, I know it’s you—Ah!”

A weight suddenly crashing into you from the solid wall on your left cut you off, and you immediately recognized the cold arms wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” Jisung murmured under his breath, almost as if he didn’t believe it. “Y/N…”

“Jisung.” You squeezed him back, burying your face in his neck. “Oh, I’m back, Jisung.”

“You’re really-You’re really here?” He pulled back to hold your face with two hands. Jisung was just like you remembered, dark hair, dark eyes, his black cardigan and white shirt, and you were sure if you looked down, he’d have the same black pants and shoes as well.

You nodded, jangling the keys in your hand. “The house is mine. For good this time.”

“You didn’t—” His face looked both pained and touched. “How much did they charge you?”

“They paid me,” you informed him with a laugh. “Turns out it’s really hard to sell a haunted house around here.”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a plainly guilty look overtook his face, and his voice had poorly feigned obliviousness in it. “A… whaaat…? Pfft…”

“Since when have you been such a paranormal menace, Park Jisung?” You shook your head at him but couldn’t keep the amusement out of your tone. “Really, finishing people’s puzzles while they’re asleep, moving stuff around—Were you trying to make them move out?”

“I didn’t like any of them.” He crossed his arms. “The first ones fought every day and were just a bother, the second ones just worked all the time and when they were home all they talked about was their boring jobs, the third ones were just boring, and the fourth one—”

“—Was here for three days, how could you possibly have known if you liked them or not?”

“I knew,” he insisted. “He stepped on one of the flowerbeds when he was bringing in boxes and didn’t even care!”

“You actually did a Ouija board with Seohyuk?”

“I wasn’t going to, but I figured maybe I could get him to pick less shitty tenants,” he huffed. “I was thinking about spelling out your name, but I thought that might’ve been pushing it.”

“He already thinks I’m a little weird for taking the haunted house back, I’m glad you didn’t push our luck,” you said, cupping his cheek with one hand and kissing the other.

“You’re really back?” Jisung asked quietly, placing his hand over yours on his cheek.

“I’m home, Jisung,” you promised, tracing an X over the left side of your chest. “Cross my heart.”

In bed that night, you listened to Jisung’s even breathing, slowly drawn even closer to sleep by the circles his fingers traced on your back. His breath suddenly hitched and shuddered, as if suppressing a sniffle.

“Jisung?” You said his name quietly, already beginning to turn over to face him.

“It was so hard…” His face was tear-stained, and his lower lip trembled as he tried to talk. “Going from actually being somebody with you back to… nobody seeing me, or hearing me. Walking right through me. I’d done it for so long before you, I thought I could do it. But this time…”

“Jisung…” You couldn’t do much more than murmur his name. As soon as you’d reached out for him, he’d already thrown himself into your arms. You cradled his head to your chest, pressing a long kiss to his hair.

“I was so lonely,” he admitted, curling his fingers in your shirt. “I mean, I’ve been alone, but it’s never felt like-like that.”

“Shh, shh,” you soothed his sobs, gently rubbing a hand up and down his back. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I’m so sorry…”

He seemed to be trying to collect himself, wiping at his eyes as he lifted his head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It must’ve… They kicked you out so soon after your mom passed. You didn’t even have time to grieve her.”

“It was really difficult, yeah. Especially because I didn’t have you,” you said softly, stroking his hair. “I didn’t have anybody. Felt like I was invisible, too.”

He shuffled up higher to sit up against the pillows, wrapping an arm around you, and you let him pull you under his chin. You leaned your head against him, your eyes misty. After a few blinks, the tears subsided again. You’d practically cried yourself dry in the past six months.

“I went to a grief support group the hospital holds once a week,” you continued, picking at your nails. “It helped, I guess, getting to talk about it with other people who were in the same sort of thing as me.”

“Good. I’m glad you found something to help.” He laced his fingers with yours, holding you even tighter. “I couldn’t—I hated the idea that you were going through all of that alone.”

“We’re not alone anymore,” you reminded him. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay…” Jisung kissed your temple. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming back.”

“Thank you for waiting again.”

“You look very cute,” Jisung complimented you as you readjusted your outfit, poking the tip of your nose for good measure.

“Thank you,” you responded quietly, conscious of the other people nearby.

Content with your clothes, you looked around for the right person, and happened to spot a girl around your age standing further back and admiring the view as well. You and Jisung were at a riverside park that afforded a nice view of the city skyline across the water. The kitchen cabinet knobs were the easiest for you to carry about in your day-to-day life, and you found that two would usually cover Jisung for a full day out pretty well. You’d had one of the starbursts turned into a ring and another into a pendant that hung from a matching silver chain. The other six stayed in one of your tote bags in case you had something longer planned.

Approaching the girl with your phone in hand and already open to the camera, you offered a friendly smile. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind taking a picture of me?”

“Oh, sure!” She agreed, taking your phone from you.

Moving back to the railing, you posed as if you were any other visitor, resting an arm on the handrail as you smiled for the camera. Jisung took his usual cue, stepping into your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He did his best to jostle and move you as little as possible, assimilating to your position instead. The girl did a countdown before she took a few photos, and you made sure to make them each a little different, smiling, peace sign, poking your cheek. As always, Jisung did each changing pose with you.

After a few, you relaxed back out of your pose. “Thank you so much!”

“Here, look at them and make sure they’re good,” she said, handing your phone back. “I think something might be wrong with your camera, there’s this blur or something in the previews. It wasn’t showing up when I was shooting, but as soon as I took a picture, it was there.”

You took your phone back, looking at your pictures at an angle that she couldn’t see. And sure enough, Jisung was in all of them, hazy apparition and all.

“These are great, thank you!” You told her brightly, clicking your phone off.

She didn’t seem that invested in your strange phone camera phenomenon that was occurring, so she just gave you a skeptical look before shrugging. “Of course. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Closing the front door behind you, you then stepped out of your shoes before heading for your living room. You were still wrapping your brain around this really being your home now. You flopped down onto the couch, Jisung beside you, and pulled your phone out to review the pictures from earlier.

“What do you think, Sungie?” You hummed, scrolling through your camera roll.

He scooted in closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and using that hand to switch between the pictures himself. He clicked his tongue contemplatively, zooming in on his “head” in one of the photos.

“Can you tell I’m winking?” He asked, squinting at the screen.

You giggled. “Not quite.”

“I like the first one and this one.”

“Me too.” You started doing a little bit of color balancing to the pictures.

“Are you hungry, baby? You didn’t get anything while we were out.”

“Oh, sure,” you replied absentmindedly.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” Jisung kissed the top of your head before standing up, and you heard his footsteps recede into the kitchen.

Content with the pictures, you opened up Instagram and got ready to draft a new post. You chose the two pictures that you and Jisung liked, then typed out your caption: ‘went to the river today.’

You’d just hit post when Jisung came back in with a plate of food for you. Setting your phone aside, you accepted the plate with a smile. “Thanks.”

“You posted them yet?” He asked, sitting back down and turning his attention to a partially-assembled jigsaw puzzle.

“Just did,” you confirmed, turning your phone back on to check your notifications. “All the usual stuff so far.”

You hadn’t set out to post pictures with your ghost boyfriend, much less make a hobby of it. When you went out, you used to be extra careful not to get him in any photos, actually. Then, when your mom was put on hospice, in her moments of lucidness she started giving you errands to run for her. She always asked for you to take pictures of yourself on all of the excursions she sent you on. She said it was because she couldn’t go with you, she wanted to be able to hear about it and see it so she could feel like she had gone with you.

At first, you hated every errand she sent you on. You didn’t want to leave her side for even a second, anxious to even use the bathroom, just in case you missed the moment she passed. But you’d begrudgingly accept the tasks, as they were usually things like ‘I want to drink this rare tea before I die,’ or ‘I want to eat a sweet from this bakery before I die.’ You only realized what she was doing when they started to become errands like ‘I always wanted to watch the sunset at this view, won’t you go and take a picture for me?’ At the time, you were still anxious that you would miss the moment, but in hindsight you felt overwhelmed with the knowledge of how loved you were, that your mom was still taking care of you in whatever way she could, even then.

Jisung would almost always accompany you on these errands, at least for however long he could. You tried to take nice pictures to show your mom wherever you went, and of yourself in those places, asking strangers to take pictures of you if you felt it appropriate—usually if she had sent you to some more touristy place. It was while someone else was taking your picture in front of some field of flowers of all places that you cracked under all the stress and burst into tears. Jisung stepped in to comfort you at the same time the older man had taken another picture—he realized that you’d started crying immediately after taking the picture and consoled you as well. Later, when you actually looked at the picture, you realized that Jisung had been captured in the photograph, a dark figure reaching towards you as you turned away from the camera to cover your face, seemingly turning into him. After that, the two of you decided to take more pictures together intentionally.

Having nothing better to do with the pictures, you shared them on your social media, figuring that nobody would naturally assume it was a real-life ghost. They didn’t, of course. Most people thought it was some kind of continued photography or photo-editing project. You didn’t expect it to draw in the outside audience that they did, though. Everybody had a different interpretation of the pictures. Some thought they were just meant to be spooky and look like a ghost, others thought the blur represented something, whether that be grief, a former relationship, mental health struggles, it really was endless. You, meanwhile, continued posting your pictures with your ghost boyfriend.

Putting your phone back down, you picked up a puzzle piece as well. You lost track of how long the two of you had been in peaceful silence, the only sounds that of the cardboard pieces sliding across the table and clicking into place when someone knocked on the door. It was a quick succession of knocks, and you and Jisung paused to look at each other.

“Are you expecting a package?” He asked.

“No.” You furrowed your brow. They knocked again, prompting you to get to your feet. “Neighbor maybe?”

When you peeked out the peephole, you spotted a woman standing there, smoothing out her designer clothes. She fixed her hair as she looked around almost nervously. You were tempted to not answer, except something about her seemed familiar, so you unlocked the latch and cracked open the door enough to show yourself, but not too wide.

“Uhm, hi?” You greeted her, keeping your tone light.

“Hi,” she immediately focused a bright, friendly smile on you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes. You’re…?”

“Chaeyeon, I’m Seohyuk’s wife.”

“Of course.” You nodded and smiled politely, looking around uncertainly.

“It’s okay that you didn’t immediately recognize me, we only met the one time and it’s been a while,” Chaeyeon reassured you.

“Yes. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too.” She was still smiling at you, and there was an awkward pause as you didn’t have anything to say back. Chaeyeon said, “I’m sure you’re confused why I’m here. There’s a book that Seohyuk was trying to find in his father’s things the other day and we haven’t been able to locate it. Neither of his brothers nor my mother-in-law have it, and it’s not on the list of things that we sold or donated. Would you mind checking to see if you have it?”

“My mom had a lot of books, it’s possible it got mixed in,” you agreed mildly. When she was still standing there a beat later with her expectant, shining eyes, hands clasped over her purse in front of her, you stepped back slightly from the door. “Uh, do you want to come in while I look for it?”

“Thank you.” She followed you in, and you closed the door behind her.

“I’m sorry Seohyuk sent you all the way out here and got you involved,” you said as you led her into the living room where the bookshelves were. Jisung was still sitting on the couch, and narrowed his eyes at Chaeyeon suspiciously. You shot him a warning look behind her back to behave. The last thing you needed was him spooking her or making you react in some socially unacceptable way in front of her.

“I asked to come. He was going to stop by on his way to work, but I had some errands to run, so I figured…” She trailed off wistfully. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding, you know.”

Unsure of what else to say, you replied, “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Here’s all her old books that I still have. What’s the title?” You asked, then paused after she read off the title from her phone. “Wait, that one?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

You did your best not to outright roll your eyes, but didn’t entirely hide your annoyance at Seohyuk already going back on his agreement to stop harassing you over your respective parents’ things. “I know that book. It’s nice, actually one of my mom’s favorite authors. It’s in my room, wait here.”

Upstairs, you weren’t surprised that Jisung had followed you.

“He’s a dick,” he scoffed.

“Mm-hm.” You grabbed the book off your dresser. “What’s new?”

“Tell her no.”

“I’m tired, Jisung,” you sighed. “I’m tired of fighting with him about this stuff all the time. I have plenty of things to remember my mom and Hyukjun by. I mean—I have their house. If he really wants this book, he can have it. I’m done.”

Your ghost looked down at you sadly. “He did this the whole time you were gone too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You headed for the door. “I can’t keep her waiting.”

Descending the stairs and turning into the living room, you were pleasantly surprised to see Chaeyeon pretty much exactly where you left her. Not that you wanted to assume the worst of her, but it definitely had crossed your mind that Seohyuk had sent her here as part of some plot, no matter how nice she had been so far. But she was still in the living room, seemingly reading the spines of your collection of books, hands still on her purse.

She turned when she heard your footsteps. “You have so many books. Have you read all of these?”

“Most of them. Or had them read to me. My mom was a Literature teacher,” you explained. You held the book out to her. “Here.”

“Thanks, Y/N, Seohyuk will be really—” She accepted it, gently opening the clothbound front cover, and her eyes landed on the cover page. “The note…”

“Yeah, it was Hyukjun’s wedding gift to my mom,” you confirmed flatly.

“Keep it.” She immediately offered the book back to you.

“Huh?”

“It was a gift from his dad to your mother. I get why he wants it back, but it should be yours. I’ll talk to him.” She stepped forward to pick up your hand, putting the book into it. “I promise.”

You took it back with two hands, holding it to your chest. “Thank you. You really don’t have to go through the trouble.”

Chaeyeon smiled softly. “Are you busy?”

You couldn’t help your surprise, blinking at her. “Right now?”

“My nail appointment isn’t for another two hours. Would you like to get some tea?”

“Uhm, sure,” you accepted, despite Jisung’s wide, dumbfounded eyes.

Sat across from Chaeyeon in a teahouse, you blew on the surface of your steaming tea, tapping your nails against the side of your cup. Her fingers were elegantly wrapped around her cup, large diamond ring glinting from her left hand as she took a sip.

She set her tea down and gave you a sheepish smile. “I’m making you nervous.”

“Was it obvious?” You chuckled awkwardly, continuing to hold your own drink.

“You’re very tense.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just surprised that you would ask me to get tea with you.”

“You’re family, too,” she said kindly, and you were straining your ears to try to find any hint of insincerity, sarcasm, or malice in her tone. She really seemed genuine in her sentiments.

“I think the two of us have a pretty tenuous connection there,” you pointed out.

“I know, but since your mom passed—Oh, how do I—” She fretted for a moment, unfolding and re-folding the napkin in her lap then tucking her hair behind her ear. “…Do you have anyone else?”

You had to refrain from looking at Jisung, who was occupying the spot next to you, still observing Chaeyeon closely. “Ah, no, not really.”

“Neither do I,” she confessed. “I mean, I have Seohyuk and his family, and they’re wonderful. But my own parents have passed, and my little sister, too. She would be around your age, actually.”

“I’m so sorry, Chaeyeon,” you said genuinely.

“I know we’re not related by blood, by any stretch of the imagination, but I hope we can at least be friends. If you’d like.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jisung retorted doubtfully.

You fidgeted with the starburst ring on your finger as you thought about Chaeyeon’s words. “I don’t want to be rude since you’re being so nice to me, but can I just ask—Why? Why you’re being so nice to me? I mean, I can’t imagine that Seohyuk has been saying anything good about me to you. No disrespect to your husband.”

“I’ve gathered that you all don’t get along very well…” She acquiesced. After taking another sip of her tea, she continued, “I was only able to meet my father-in-law once. Seohyuk thought we’d have plenty of time to get acquainted after the wedding.”

You winced as you put your tea down, an apology already on your tongue before you could stop it. “I’m sorry, Hyukjun asked me not to say anything to them. I-I still don’t know if I did the right thing, I can’t imagine what it was like for them…”

“There was no wrong choice, Y/N.” She reached for one of your hands. “It was a terrible, impossible situation for everyone involved. There was no decision you could’ve made that would’ve spared everyone’s feelings. It’s okay. Don’t be sorry for honoring his wish.”

You looked down at your hands on the tabletop between you two, then back up at her. “I interrupted you, sorry. Continue.”

“I only met Hyukjun one time, but he was fantastic, he really was. And Seohyuk always talks about how amazing his dad was, you can tell he was his hero—still is.” Her voice and her features held a fondness that you had never seen on display for your stepbrother before; you were genuinely stunned for a moment. “When Seohyuk and I started dating and we were talking about our families, he finally got around to the fact that his dad remarried, and his new wife has a daughter that his dad just absolutely adores. The way he said it, I thought you were a little kid at first, and then he mentioned you had a job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her at this information, the first you’d ever heard of this.

“And he kept bringing it up every so often. That Hyukjun adored you and your mom,” she went on, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I sort of thought that if there’s this person who was apparently adored so much by the man that my husband—the man I love and adore—looked up to and loved, that I’d very much like to meet her.”

“My mom would have loved you,” you said softly, feeling your eyes fill with tears. “I mean, I know you met her at the wedding, and you were so lovely to her then, but if you had been able to really know her—God she would have loved you.”

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Chaeyeon gasped, opening her purse and bringing out tissues to start dabbing at your eyes for you.

“It’s okay, really,” you assured her, letting her clean up your face anyway. “I think—I think I’m crying because you reminded me of her.”

She sat back on her feet. “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You laughed, mostly at yourself you were pretty sure. Chaeyeon was absolutely beaming at you now, and you took another drink of your tea as Jisung rested a cool hand on your back. “I know you have to go to a nail appointment after this, but would you mind if I visited you and Seohyuk sometime?”

“And Seohyuk?” She repeated, obviously not expecting that.

“I have something to give him back.”

“I already told you, you should keep the book,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

“Other than the book.”

“Oh, then of course.”

“I still don’t know why you like coming to work with me,” you sighed, pulling on your jacket.

Jisung grabbed your bag for you, which had the other cabinet knobs you weren’t already wearing in it. “Do you want me to stay here?”

“I didn’t say that.” You slipped the bag onto your shoulder. “I just don’t get how sitting around watching me work at the office is any more interesting than sitting around here all day.”

“All the dishes are done, laundry’s folded, and I dare you to find a speck of dust in this house.”

“Yes, Jisung, you’re the perfect house husband,” you said, an amused smile playing across your lips as you went to unlock the front door. “Also not what we were talking about.”

He held the door open for you, following you out and waiting on the porch as you locked up. “I miss you when you’re at work. Is that so horrible?”

“No,” you chuckled, pocketing your keys and starting your journey to work. “I miss you too, Sungie.”

After your mom passed, your work had let you take as much time as you needed to both grieve and deal with your hasty change in living situation. Once you were ready, you slowly started a new hybrid schedule—coming into the office for a full day twice a week and working from home part-time the rest of the work week.

Your first stop after dropping your bag off at your cubicle was usually the breakroom. This morning, it seemed as though somebody had brought in donuts, and you spotted a familiar figure already hunched over them, carefully selecting one.

“Good morning, Sungchan,” you greeted your coworker brightly.

The tall man shot up straight, spinning around in place, his ID badge hitting him in the face in the process. He brought a hand up to grab his lanyard and lay it flat against his chest again as he gave you a crooked, breathless smile. “Oh! Morning, Y/N!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed, grabbing a mug from the cabinet to start on your morning cup of coffee.

“No, it’s okay, I was just so focused, I guess.” He pointed to the box behind him, “Mr. Choi brought donuts for everyone.”

“I see. What kind are you going to get?”

“I don’t know…” Sungchan sucked in air through his teeth regretfully. “They all look really good.”

“Pick two and we can split them.”

“Really?” He asked you, his big eyes shining at you.

“Really.”

“Well, which one do you want?”

“I don’t care, you pick.”

Sungchan made his selections, and carefully cut them into precise halves before letting you pick your pieces of each.

Loading your two donut halves up onto a napkin and grabbing your coffee mug, you gave him a single nod. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Thanks, Y/N!” He beamed. “I’ve got to go, I haven’t checked my email yet.”

“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Emails…”

Sungchan darted out of the breakroom, leaving just you and your ghost. You took a bite of one of the donut halves, washing it down with a long sip of your coffee. Average chain donut.

“I know you’re pouting, Jisung,” you hummed under your breath. “He’s new, he needs people to be nice to him.”

“I know, I don’t think you’re flirting,” Jisung replied, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms. “I think he’s going to think you are.”

“Too bad for him, then.”

Another one of your coworkers wandered in then, still yawning and rubbing sleep out of his eye. Shotaro looked around the breakroom expectantly. “Sungchan said there were donuts?”

“Only if you like sugary cardboard,” you informed him, dropping yours in the trashcan on your way out.

At your cubicle, you started your computer up, the sound of Sungchan clacking away at his keyboard on your left filling your ears. You took your own lanyard with your company ID out of your tote bag and set it on your desk. The ID gave you access to certain areas of the building, and while technically all employees were supposed to be wearing them at all times, nobody except brand-new employees actually followed that rule. Jisung sat in the chair at the empty cubicle to your right, kicking his feet up on the desk and humming to himself.

Shotaro finally joined your small pod of six desks at his spot across from you, and you noted that he didn’t have a donut with him. You tapped your fingers along to the melody that Jisung was humming.

“Hey, Shotaro, did you see that email that Ms. Kim sent?” Sungchan asked.

“Dude,” Shotaro groaned. “One—I just sat down. Two—Take some notes from Y/N, don’t check your email until 9:30. I promise, you’re going to be so much happier.”

“But it’s already 9:10, I mean—” Sungchan let out a distressed huff, running a hand through his hair. “What do you do for thirty minutes?”

“Get your coffee, fill up your water bottle, chat with people in the breakroom, chat with people by the copy machine, finish any work you didn’t get to yesterday, tidy up your desk, literally anything except open your email,” you listed off some ideas for him, just beginning to turn your own computer on.

“Why?”

“Because if I read an email before 9:30, and it pisses me off, I’m going to be pissed off all day,” you snorted. “It’s for everyone’s good.”

“I’m so glad you’re in the office now,” Shotaro sighed happily. “This is the kind of wisdom I missed out on when I started and you were still remote.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky I came back in at all.”

Jisung sat up in his seat, something clearly having caught his attention across the floor. “Be right back.”

You glanced up from your computer screen to see where he was going, and immediately spotted what he had: Two supervisors who also worked on your floor, Ms. Kim and Mr. Han, walking towards Ms. Kim’s office as they had a hushed conversation. They were at about the same rank as your supervisor, Mr. Choi, and with regards to work, there was nothing remarkable about them. They weren’t overseeing any of your projects, you really only knew of them in passing. But they had caught Jisung’s interest, and by extension, yours, because they had begun something of a will-they/won’t-they romance a couple months ago. You never encouraged Jisung’s snooping on your colleagues, but he needed to entertain himself somehow, and you made sure not to divulge anything he told you that wasn’t already part of the office gossip zeitgeist in conversation to your coworkers.

A few minutes later, Jisung was practically running back to you, narrowly darting around some of your other coworkers in his haste. You could see some of them shiver and look around in confusion at the sudden breeze that had blown by with seemingly no reason, peering up to try to find the air conditioning vent that must be around. Letting out a small sigh and keeping your eyes on your computer screen, you readjusted in your seat and scooted over to make just enough room for Jisung to hop up on your desk.

He happily squeezed in next to your keyboard, swinging his legs as he was clearly buzzing with news. “They’re finally doing it. They’re going on a date!”

“Hm.” You had to keep your reactions small, but felt a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I know! Ms. Kim is really worried because she doesn't want anybody here to think differently of her, but Mr. Han was just over the moon that she finally said yes! And you could tell that Ms. Kim was excited, too, obviously.”

You grabbed a notepad on your desk, scribbling a note to Jisung. ‘What kind of date?’

“They haven’t figured that out. Ms. Kim got a call before they could finish talking and Mr. Han left her office so she could take it,” he sighed, clearly disappointed.

‘Cliffhanger...’

“Hey, Y/N, does this email sound like, professional enough?” Sungchan asked, poking his head around your shared cubicle wall and through Jisung’s arm. Your ghost jerked his limb away from your coworker with a miffed look as you ripped the paper off your notepad and tossed it in your garbage can.

“Let me take a look,” you offered, going to scoot your chair over at the same time Jisung moved out of your way, back to his empty cubicle.

“Do you have a vent blowing right on your desk or something?” Sungchan shivered for dramatic effect. “I swear the air temperature dropped like ten degrees as soon as I crossed into your cubicle.”

“Cold spot!” Shotaro declared, his finger jabbing at the two of you from over the cubicles. His eyes followed a moment later. “What did I tell you?”

You scoffed, trying to skim the email in front of you again, “You were serious about that?”

“What? What is he talking about?” Sungchan looked between the two of you nervously.

“Shotaro thinks the office is—”

“—Our office is haunted,” Shotaro got up from his chair to lean forward and hiss dramatically, as if the alleged ghost was going to get him just for saying so.

Jisung, meanwhile, gasped and looked around with mock fear on his features. “A ghost! Where?!”

“You guys are ridiculous.” You shook your head.

“What did I do?” Sungchan pouted, obviously assuming that you were talking about him and Shotaro.

“You put a smiley face in your email, Sungchan,” you retorted, hitting the backspace with no mercy. “And you can’t end every sentence with an exclamation mark. The period button exists for a reason. Use it.”

“But I don’t want to sound mean…”

“One. You get one exclamation mark per email. And no smiley faces.”

“Okay…”

“Fine, everybody ignore Shotaro,” your other coworker threw his hands up as he fell back into his seat, letting the chair roll away from his desk before he scooted up again. “But when the ghost starts deleting important emails and writing in toner on the copy room wall that it’s going to kill us all, I will say I told you so.”

“Hey, there’s some ideas…” Jisung nodded along as if he were actually considering this. You shot him a look out of the corner of your eye.

“Your talents are wasted here, Shotaro. You should really be writing horror novels that exclusively take place in office buildings,” you told him, rolling back over to your own desk.

“Ah! Lunch break!” Jisung cheered as the two of you exited the building into the sunny, mild day.

“Yeah, you’ve been really hard at work,” you teased him under your breath, starting on the familiar path to a nearby park that you usually took your lunch at. It was typically pretty empty at this time of day, and you found that you could freely talk to Jisung there, a single headphone in for plausible deniability.

“I wish you had an office,” he sighed. “So we could actually talk to each other.”

“I used to,” you said, plopping down at a picnic table. “Before I moved in with my mom and Hyukjun, when I was still full-time in my old position.”

“Wait, really? What was your old position?”

“Mr. Choi’s position.”

“So Mr. Choi is in your office?”

You grabbed your lunch from your tote bag. “Hasn’t been my office in years. It’s his office.”

“But—Why—” Jisung frowned. “You haven’t said anything before.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t had a reason to bring it up, I guess.”

“You’re back now, though.”

“I couldn’t do that job anymore when I chose to help my mom and Hyukjun. Mr. Choi has been a great supervisor; there’s no point in them firing him just to put me back there now. I wasn’t expecting them to keep an office empty for me for years.”

Your ghost was quiet as he seemed to ponder this.

“Besides, if I had that job again, I’d have to be at the office every day,” you pointed out. “All day. No free time like I have now.”

“Oh.” His nose wrinkled as he presumably imagined what that would be like. “Mr. Choi can keep the office.”

“So are we doing bets on what sort of date—”

“Why is he here?” Jisung frowned and crossed his arms, focusing a suspicious glare behind you.

It was then that you heard footsteps approaching you, and you turned to see Mr. Choi coming down the sidewalk, seemingly not by accident as he focused a friendly smile on you as soon as you spotted him. He lifted his hand in a wave of greeting, and you returned the gesture, watching with interest as he stopped next to your picnic table.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said brightly, and you noticed a brown paper bag in his other hand. “Sorry, were you on a call?”

“Just finished.”

“Well, would you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, Mr. Choi,” you indicated to the seat across from you.

Jisung moved from his spot with a sigh, sitting next to you instead as your supervisor sat down. Mr. Choi opened his sack lunch to bring out a bento box and small juice box, making you smile into your next bite of food.

“Cute,” you commented, pointing to the colorful vegetable slices that had been cut into star and heart shapes in one section of the container.

“My wife makes all these elaborate lunches for the kids to bring to school,” he began to explain, and though you almost expected him to be sheepish about having a childish-looking lunch, unveiling crackers in the shapes of cartoon characters, instead he just looked fond and proud. “Anything they don’t eat goes in my lunch the next day.”

“You get the scraps?” You couldn’t help but snicker.

“Yeah,” he laughed as well.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take your lunch out of the office if it wasn’t a business lunch, Mr. Choi,” you said knowingly.

“Ah, was I obvious?” He chuckled, pulling on one of his ears nervously.

“I know you value our free time and want us to as well, so I don’t think this is work-related, right?”

“Tangentially…” The older man popped a star-shaped cucumber in his mouth. “I just… wanted to check in with you, Y/N. I hate calling people into my office for bad reasons, much less something like this. Very… confrontational.”

“I get it.” The corner of your lip twitched with a smile. “I’m alright, actually. Still taking things day by day. I miss her a lot, but it doesn’t feel like I’m… suffocating anymore.”

“Good, that’s good to hear.”

“I’m nervous, Sungie,” you admitted, taking a deep breath to try to calm your erratic heart.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” he reassured you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently. “You’ve dealt with him before.”

The two of you were on the way to your eldest stepbrother’s house, at the invite of his wife. Chaeyeon had reassured that Seohyuk wanted you to come over, which only knotted your stomach even more. You could deal with Seohyuk being an ass, but you weren’t used to him being… friendly. At least not without being in front of your parents.

You squeezed Jisung’s hand tighter, trying to focus on the familiar coolness of it. “I know. But what if I’m nice because I think he’s being nice, and end up revealing something that he’ll just use the next time he decides to be cruel?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jisung smoothed his thumb over your hand as he hushed your anxious thoughts. “You’re just returning something; nobody said you have to pour your heart out to him.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Double checking the address Chaeyeon sent you, you watched the house numbers go down and down until you were finally in front of 1174, your destination. You gave Jisung’s hand one last squeeze before letting it go and starting up the short driveway to their front door.

The black painted door swung open hardly a second after you had knocked, the familiar, beaming features of Chaeyeon greeting you.

“Hey, Y/N!” She threw her arms around you. “You made it!”

“Hi, Chaeyeon,” you timidly hugged her back. “Good to see you again. Thank you for inviting me over.”

“Of course, come in.” She grabbed your arm in a gentle but firm grasp, pulling you in after her. Jisung barely slipped in before she closed the door, to your amusement—he could’ve easily walked through it.

Chaeyeon had brought you into their living room, where her husband stood up from his seat on their leather couch. Seohyuk kept his hands behind his back as he nodded to you politely.

“Y/N, hello.”

“Hey, Seohyuk,” you nodded back, nearly suffocating in the tension already.

After an awkward, heavy pause, Chaeyeon piped up, bubbly as ever as she asked you, “So, you said you had something, Y/N? To give back?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You cleared your throat, reaching into your tote bag. In a small pocket separate from your cabinet knobs and other things, were two small rectangles. Taking just one more second to look at the top image, a photograph of Hyukjun when he was younger, you handed both that and the other paper out to Seohyuk.

“I found these the other day, tucked into one of my mom’s books,” you explained quietly. “I think she was using them as a bookmark.”

“What’s…” He brought out the other image from behind the first, his voice trailing off. It was his and Chaeyeon’s wedding invite, and you knew he was seeing exactly what you and your mom had seen before as he held them side by side.

“You look just like him,” Chaeyeon murmured, touching the wedding invite in awe. She looked up at you with a smile, “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you think about my mom, or really what your guys’ relationship with her was like in your eyes,” you continued. “But to her, you were family. I wish she had been in better shape to be able to show you that, and I know she did too.”

“I’m sorry.” Seohyuk looked up from the pictures to you, a painfully sincere look on his face.

“For what?”

“I never told you that, genuinely, after your mom was diagnosed, or after she passed. I’m really sorry, for everything you’ve been through.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your dad’s diagnosis, even if he told me not to. It’s still… You didn’t get to prepare.”

Something distantly beeped from an adjoining room, and Chaeyeon briefly squeezed her husband’s shoulder and murmured a hushed ‘be right back’ before slipping out of the room.

“It sucked, yeah,” he admitted hoarsely. “It must’ve been hard on you, taking care of the both of them by yourself. Especially Dad, I’m sure he didn’t want anything spent on himself, he wanted everything saved up for your mom, right?”

“Yeah, the memory care aides could only do so much for late-stage lung cancer.”

“Thank you. For taking care of him and being there for him when we weren’t.” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or bitterness in his tone, just a honeyed warmth that nearly left you shell-shocked.

“I know you already know this, but your dad was just a really, really great guy,” you spoke past the lump in your throat as memories of your stepdad bubbled up. “I’m happy I got to know him for as long as I did. My dad died when I was young, and I didn’t have Hyukjun back then but sometimes it really felt like I did. Just felt like he’d always been there.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, setting the pictures down on the coffee table in front of him.

“You already said that, Seohyuk.”

“I know, but I have more stuff to apologize for.”

“Like what? Did you hire someone to secretly egg the house while I’ve been here or something?” You tepidly joked.

“No, no.” He chuckled and shook his head. “When my parents got divorced, it was good. Like, a good thing for everyone. We didn’t want our parents to get back together or anything. Our mom had boyfriends here and there, you know, but Dad never even dated. So when he, seemingly out of the blue, got married to this random woman who also had a daughter that he pretty much immediately accepted as his own, after he spent his whole life raising three sons—as I’m saying it, I can hear how asinine and juvenile this is—it felt like he was just getting himself a new family. Like we’d been replaced.”

You blinked at him, slowly nodding as you actively chose to empathize with him instead. “I’m sorry it felt like you and your brothers were pushed out. That must have hurt. Did you talk to your dad at all?”

“Not in any productive way. And really, you don’t have to apologize. I need to apologize,” he tapped his chest insistently. “We were all grown men in our twenties and thirties behaving like children because our dad was finally living his own life and getting married. It was unacceptable the way we treated you and your mom. Especially you, we were downright cruel to you sometimes, and I’m extremely sorry for that.”

“Seriously?!” Jisung finally spoke, harshly spitting the word out. “After everything they did to you? He thinks he can just—”

“I… really wasn’t expecting this when I came over. Uh, thank you.” You knew your surprise was evident on your features, there was no sense in hiding it in your words either. “I hope you don’t mind my asking… Why the change of heart?”

“My wife brought up a good point to me the other day.” He pointed to the doorway that Chaeyeon had disappeared through, a sheepish half-smile on his face. “We were jealous because Dad loved you so much. But he never loved us any less, he just always had more to give. I’d like to actually get to know his other kid that he spent his last few years with.”

“I… Me?” You pointed to yourself hesitantly.

“Yeah, you,” he laughed with a light air of teasing, though this time it didn’t feel mocking. “We were out of line at Dad’s wake. Of course you two were his family, anybody could see that. I’m sorry for all that, too.”

“He did so much more—”

“Thanks, Seohyuk,” you cut Jisung’s angry ramble off, offering your stepbrother a calm, genuine smile.

Seohyuk let out a sudden, loud, raucous sneeze, throwing his elbow up to catch it as he turned away from you.

You snickered fondly. “You sneeze like him.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“I never noticed…” He lowered his elbow slowly. “Does that mean that I sneeze like a dad?”

“Don’t worry, I do t—”

Something had tickled your nose just then, and you were cut off by the both of you sneezing, nearly identical in volume.

Chaeyeon poked her head back in then, “My God, was that a grenade or you two sneezing?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, Seohyuk giving a couple airy chuckles too.

He gestured to the room where Chaeyeon was, “It’s almost dinner, would you stay and eat with us?”

“I have plans tonight,” you informed him, already thinking of the movies that you and Jisung were going to watch when you got back home.

“Another night? If you want to, no hurt feelings if you’d rather not—I haven’t made myself seem very appealing to hang out with.”

You contemplated this a moment. Your ghost took your pause as an opportunity to let you know his opinion, a loud sigh from behind you. You nodded, “…I could do next week—Monday.”

“Monday!” Seohyuk repeated enthusiastically, clapping his hands once. “Yes, Monday, we can do that. I get home from work at six, uhm, Chaeyeon, will you have appointments that afternoon?”

“Nothing after three.” Chaeyeon’s eyes were sparkling in the warm light from the nearby stylish floor lamp.

“I work in the mornings on Mondays,” you said. “What time should I arrive?”

“Seven? Yeah, dinner should be ready by then,” Seohyuk talked himself through it, flitting his wide, hopeful smile between you and Chaeyeon.

“Or you can get here closer to five and we can hang out first,” Chaeyeon offered to you.

“Or that too!”

“I’ll have some errands to run, seven will probably be the best…” You were still wary of spending so much time here at once.

“Seven it is,” Seohyuk confirmed fervently.

“Why’d you say yes?” Jisung questioned as you pulled a blanket over your laps later that night.

“Mm?” You hummed inquisitively, settling into the corner of the couch. “To dinner at Seohyuk and Chaeyeon’s?”

“Yeah. He was terrible to you, baby. Why even bother?”

You continued humming thoughtfully this time as you tried to piece together all your errant sentiments and feelings about it. “Because he’s making an effort, so I want to, too. And it’s like I said before, Sungie… I’m just tired of fighting with him. It’s so exhausting holding onto all that.”

He was still pouting thoughtfully, brow furrowed. You nudged his side teasingly, “Besides, I’ve got you to hold all my grudges for me.”

Your ghost’s face relaxed just in the slightest as he pulled you closer to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Well, I still don’t forgive him. On your behalf or mine.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He rested his head in the crook of your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Worst six months of my life or afterlife without you.”

You leaned back against the arm of the couch to let him sprawl out on top of you, running a hand through his hair. “That’s fair, I suppose. But I don’t think I can really ask him to apologize to you.”

“He already believes the house is haunted, I bet you could get him on another Ouija board,” he mumbled. “Say you heard a weird noise or something.”

“You really want him back in our house so soon?” You laughed, still playing with his hair.

“No,” he huffed.

“Are you ready to pick the first movie yet or are you still sulking?”

“A couple more minutes…”

You were rushing. You were running late this morning, somehow, and it was only when you got to your bus stop that you realized you’d forgotten your tote bag.

“Whew! Right on time, huh, Sungie?” You looked around breathless at the empty bus stop. Too empty. Jisung wasn’t there, and he didn't pop up like he normally did if he wasn't immediately visible. Then you realized the distinct lack of weight on your shoulder.

“Shit!” You patted your pockets fervently for any spare knobs. You didn't even have your ring or bracelet, having taken your jewelry off in order to shower this morning. Just as you were contemplating running back for Jisung, your bus pulled up, and your decision was made for you. He would just have to stay home today.

Walking into work, you felt weirdly lonely, despite your two desk buddies immediately finding you when you arrived on your floor.

“Y/N!” Sungchan’s head was easily visible over the other personnel around him.

Shotaro was in tow, of course, and they fell into step on either side of you. “Y/N! Yes!”

“Good morning?” You squinted at them. “Is it? Should I be concerned as to why you’re so energetic this early?”

“Shotaro thinks—”

“Dude!” Shotaro scolded Sungchan, reaching behind you to smack him on the shoulder. “Tact? Hello?!”

“Oh, I would love to see how you’re going to do this with tact,” Sungchan scoffed back.

“So I should be concerned,” you surmised dryly, heading straight for the breakroom.

“No! I’m just glad you’re back!” Shotaro said brightly. “Because I have a theory.”

“About?”

“The office ghost.”

You held his eye contact for a silent moment before turning back to making your coffee.

“Listen, I swear, our office is haunted. And I think the ghost has a crush on you or something.”

You squinted at him, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “…What?”

“Well, I started keeping a tally every time something spooky happened for the past month—”

“Oh God, okay,” you sighed and rubbed your face.

“And I noticed a pattern. There’s pretty much no spooky stuff that happens on Tuesdays and Fridays. When you’re not here!”

“Maybe the ghost only works part-time, too,” you snorted.

“Listen, I’m telling you, something’s going to happen today now that you’re back,” Shotaro declared.

“Alright, whatever.” You shook your head. It being this early in the morning was bad enough, but you were going to have to go the whole day without Jisung, which meant it’d be dreadfully boring as well.

Back at your desk, you unlocked your computer and avoided your email, instead pulling up a report that you had been working on for the last few weeks. After putting the finishing touches on it, you sent off copies to the printer, and slowly stood up. You’d have to present it at a meeting right after lunch today, which was why you couldn’t try to sprint back home on your break to fetch Jisung—that would risk being tardy for your meeting.

In the vacant copy room, you leaned against the wall next to the machine printing off your report, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your eyes. Stupid presentation. One of the best parts of working remote was no longer having to present to a conference room full of people on your work. Now you didn’t even have Jisung here to cheer you on. You wondered how your ghost was faring home alone. You were sure he was keeping himself busy like he did before the two of you ever met—reading books, watching TV. Maybe he was even working in the garden in the backyard. The two of you had been working on livening up Hyukjun’s flower beds again after they’d been poorly tended to for so long while you were gone.

You let out a huff. You’d so much rather be home with Jisung in your garden, or at least have him here with you.

“Mm?” A confused noise came from elsewhere in the room, and you immediately opened your eyes and looked over towards the doorway, expecting to see one of your coworkers there coming to make copies of their own. But the door was still closed. Quickly looking around the room, you realized that you weren’t alone, though.

Jisung was looking around the room equally bewildered. You blinked at him in disbelief.

“Y/N? Baby?” He stepped towards you. “I thought you forgot all the knobs?”

“I did…” You whispered, reaching out to wipe some dirt off his cheek. “How…?”

“I don’t know.” He took your hand, rubbing circles into your palm with his thumb. “I was in the backyard weeding and then I was here.”

Remembering when you first experimented with bringing him out of the house with the cabinet knobs, you asked, “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

Someone turned the doorknob to the copy room then, and you dropped your hand from Jisung’s, turning back towards the printer that you were waiting on. Shotaro entered with some papers, heading towards another machine to start making copies.

“Hey, is it just me, or is it way colder in here than normal?” Your coworker questioned.

“Huh?” You hadn’t even noticed.

“It’s normally the hottest room in the building, especially with the printers going—” He gestured to the machines that you two were standing at. “But I’ve got goosebumps.”

“Maybe they finally fixed the A/C in here?”

Shotaro squinted up at the ceiling panels. “I don’t think there’s a vent…”

“Maybe you’re sick.”

“Office ghost,” he declared triumphantly. “What did I tell you? You’re back, the ghost is back. It likes you.”

Jisung giggled at this as you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your fond smile for your ghost.

“Or maybe it hates me and that’s why it’s only haunting me specifically,” you suggested sarcastically, making Jisung laugh even harder. “Have you ever—”

“Shh!” Shotaro suddenly cut you off harshly, glancing around wildly.

“What?” You looked around too, wondering what exactly he was doing. Jisung had also stopped laughing at the sudden shift in tone, also peering around curiously.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I swear, I just heard a guy laughing,” Shotaro insisted.

Suppressing your panic, you coolly offered a solution, “You probably did. The walls are really thin here.”

“It didn’t sound like anybody who works here.”

“You know how everybody in this building laughs?”

Shotaro’s face fell, and you felt a little bad for raining on the guy’s parade. “Well, no…”

Your reports had finished printing, and you grabbed all the papers from the tray, securing them in your arms. Patting your office friend on the shoulder, you gave him the best words of encouragement that you could in the moment, “I’m sure the office ghost like you too, Shotaro.”

Jisung nodded solemnly, opting not to say anything this time as he followed you out. You opened the door widely, pretending to struggle with the stack of papers in your arms for a moment so that your ghost could slip out with you. With Shotaro apparently hearing him for a second, you didn’t trust that there wasn’t some slim chance that he could accidentally get clipped by it somehow.

You toured around your floor of the office, dropping off copies of the report to each employee who would be attending the meeting so they could review it beforehand. Jisung silently shadowed you until you had dropped off all your copies except one and ended up in a newer part of the floor with rows of empty conference rooms. You ducked into one, locking the door behind you.

“How did you get here?” You kept your voice just above a whisper, patting down your pockets again, just in case you had a cabinet knob or spare piece of foundation or something that you had somehow forgotten about in there. Nothing, of course. “And did Shotaro just hear you?!”

“I don’t know!” Jisung threw his hands up, then grimaced. “Maybe?!”

“Keep your voice down!” You reminded him emphatically, gesturing for him to calm down.

He slapped a hand over his mouth with a sheepish wince, immediately switching to an even quieter whisper than yours, “Sorry… Not used to whispering.”

“I know.” You leaned against the wall, pursing your lips thoughtfully. “What exactly were you doing before you showed up here?”

“Weeding, like I said.”

“Wait, you had dirt on your face. You never get dirty.”

Jisung looked down at his hands, as if expecting to see them caked with even more dirt. They were clean, but that did nothing to help the uneasy feeling growing in you.

“It didn’t feel like when I would get yanked home.” Your ghost scrunched his nose thoughtfully. “When we were still figuring out the knobs and stuff. I mean, my head feels fine.”

“What about when I bring you with me usually?”

“No, it’s like…” He sighed as he couldn’t seem to find the right words, and switched trains of thought. “What were you doing? Before I showed up?”

“Exactly what you saw me doing. Waiting for my stuff to print,” you shrugged. “And thinking about how much I missed you, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s what it was like.”

“Like what?”

“I got this feeling like someone had called my name, but I didn’t hear anything.”

You sighed and checked the time. “I need to get ready for my presentation this afternoon. You’ve got to stay quiet today, Sungie. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” He nodded. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“For once,” you teased, pecking his cheek.

Your presentation went over fine, and after, you headed for Mr. Choi’s office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Ah, Y/N, come in,” he waved you in with a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mr. Choi.” you offered a faint smile back. “Uhm, I’m not feeling very well. I just wanted to see if I could leave early today?”

“You did look a little distracted during your presentation.” He nodded sympathetically. “Yes, go rest. And if you need to stay offline tomorrow, by all means, please do.”

“Thanks.”

Rushing to close out your programs and turn your computer off, you gave Shotaro and Sungchan hasty goodbyes before fleeing the building, Jisung on your heels.

“How do you feel?” You checked in with him quietly as you speedwalked down the sidewalks.

“Fine. Good.” He kept his voice down.

The two of you were silent until you made it home, where you grabbed your bag from the hook by the front door and took it into the living room, dumping the contents onto the floor. Immediately, you picked out the six that you kept stored in there. You jumped to your feet to run up the stairs and into your bathroom, where the other two were sitting exactly where you left them on the sink. Taking them back downstairs to show Jisung, you dropped back down to your knees to set all eight together, letting out a sigh. You knew you didn’t have any with you today, but the whole time that you were at work, there was still some non-zero chance that maybe you just hadn’t checked your pockets well enough, maybe one was somewhere, you couldn’t be absolutely sure until you saw it with your own eyes. And now you did.

“What the hell is going on?” You whispered.

“Try going down the street?” Jisung suggested. “Without anything?”

You held your hands up to show that you weren’t holding anything as you left the house—alone—and began walking down the street. You were far out of the lay lines of the property, at the end of the block, when Jisung popped up next to you.

You stared at him in shock. He stared back.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You asked. “At all?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

“How would I have done that?”

He shrugged. “How would I?”

“It can’t be my clothes or anything, I just got like this whole outfit in the past couple months,” you huffed, still trying to brainstorm.

“Y/N, I think—” Jisung looked at you with wide eyes. “I think it’s you. I think I’m connected to you somehow.”

“I’m home!” The words were hardly out of your mouth when Jisung popped into the foyer.

He looked startled, barely sticking the landing as his head whipped around, a book in his hand. Your ghost let out a huff as he found his footing, closing the book on his thumb. “I wish you’d stop doing that. I was upstairs reading.”

“Sorry, Sungie.” You pecked his cheek, hanging your bag up. “I’m not trying, honest.”

Jisung’s annoyance quickly faded as he leaned down to kiss you. “I know, baby. I’m not mad, it just spooks me every time.”

“A ghost getting spooked,” you repeated humorously, walking further into your house.

“I’ll start on dinner.”

“Oh!” You stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Chaeyeon called me on my way home and asked if they could drop the baby off, by the way. Apparently Seohyuk has a last-minute work thing and they couldn’t find anybody else to watch her.”

“Ah. Okay.”

After getting out of your work clothes, you found Jisung in the kitchen again, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to his back. “Thank you. I know it’s got to suck being here alone all day and then having people come over.”

Since the debacle with Shotaro hearing Jisung at work, you’d been erring on the side of caution and leaving Jisung home when you went to work. It made your days lonelier, and you knew he hated it too, but it was just too hard to bring him out to the same place over and over like that. Especially when you had a paranoid coworker quite literally ghost-hunting constantly.

On top of that, you hadn’t had to bring a single cabinet knob with you anywhere in order to bring Jisung along in the time since, seemingly confirming his suspicions. He was no longer anchored to the house.

“I haven’t met the baby yet,” his voice sounded like he was forcing pep into it. “I’m looking forward to it.”

When Chaeyeon had given birth, you visited the new parents and baby at their house, leaving your ghost at home for the brief meet-up. This would be the first time the family came to your place.

“They’re not staying, at least,” you reminded him. “Chaeyeon and Seohyuk. They’re just dropping SooSoo off and then picking her up after.”

“How long is she going to be here for?”

“A few hours. Don’t worry, I’ll hold her,” you teased.

Jisung snorted lightly, continuing to chop the food. “Good idea.”

Your ghost stayed upstairs while Chaeyeon and Seohyuk brought SooSoo in, handing her and all her supplies off to you. After giving you the rundown of all the basics, they rushed back out with final goodbye pecks on the cheek to both of you. You laughed and waved them off, shutting the door behind the couple.

Upon hearing the front door close, you saw Jisung hesitantly peeking down the stairs. You chuckled, “Coast is clear, Jisung.”

“I can’t believe that’s really him.” He shook his head, taking the baby’s bag off your shoulder for you.

“Who, Seohyuk?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He was like… nice to you. Actually nice.”

“I keep telling you he’s been trying.” You walked into the living room, gently bouncing SooSoo in your arms.

“You’re good with her,” Jisung said, coming to stand next to you.

“You think so?” You beamed, playing with the baby’s tiny fingers. “This is the first one I’ve held.”

“Do you—” He cut himself off, staring at SooSoo with wide eyes. He slowly moved to the left, then the right. You watched his movements with confusion. He looked at you, disbelief clear on his face. “Can the baby see me?”

“What?” You looked down at her, seeing that it did appear as though her eyes were focused on a spot in the air over your shoulder where Jisung was. He moved to the right, and the baby’s eyes tracked him. He then moved to your left shoulder, and they once again followed. She continued watching him as he shifted back to hovering over your right shoulder, and you were really beginning to think that this wasn’t a coincidence.

You furrowed your brow. “Huh…”

Jisung clapped his hands directly in front of her face, and she flinched and blinked.

“Okay, okay,” you chastised him, pushing his hands away from her face. “This didn’t happen when the Kims were little, did it? It’s not like a ‘kids can see ghosts better’ thing, right?”

“No, they had no clue I was there. Babies, children, adults. Nobody ever did this.”

“Looks like you’ve got an imaginary friend, SooSoo,” you chuckled, gently tapping the tip of her nose.

“I’m not imaginary, just incorporeal,” he scoffed, but nevertheless reached around you to adjust her blanket for her.

“Do you think it has something to do with everything else?” You asked quietly. “Shotaro heard you, we don’t need the knobs anymore, now SooSoo can see you…”

“I don’t know.”

“Right. No ghost manual.”

Jisung stayed put as you sat down on the couch, readjusting the baby in your lap. You didn’t love the pensive look still on his features, especially when he didn’t seem to notice you patting the spot next to you in an invite for him to join you.

“Sungie?” You called for him quietly. “Everything okay?”

“I was thinking…” He looked at SooSoo, then held your gaze, obviously conflicted. “Do you want kids someday?”

“Oh.” You knew exactly where his mind had gone. “I-I don’t know. Definitely not right now—”

“But in the future—”

“I said I don’t know, Jisung,” you reiterated. “But what I absolutely do know, is that I love you. Okay? Can that be enough for now?”

“Okay. Yeah.” He nodded, finally joining you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I love you too.”

Chaeyeon and Seohyuk finally came back long after SooSoo had gone to sleep, and just before you were about to follow her lead, nodding off in a corner of the couch. Jisung stopped gently rocking the baby’s carseat when the doorbell rang, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were fully awake. You nodded, reluctantly getting to your feet as he wordlessly took off upstairs. Opening the front door, you greeted the couple, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped. You all chatted about the event as they gathered their daughter and the baby bag from the floor in front of the couch.

Chaeyeon parted the blankets around SooSoo, then rooted around through the bag that was on her husband’s shoulder. “Did she have her pink elephant when she came? I thought she did, but I don’t see it…”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” You peered around your living room, unable to see the stuffed animal as well. “I think it might be in my room, hold on.” You held up a finger for them to wait a moment, heading for the stairs.

Jisung was already on the ground with his head and arm under the bed when you walked in. You lightly pushed the door closed behind you as he scooted back out, victoriously holding a small, pink, stuffed elephant above his head.

“Thank you, Sungie,” you said quietly, reaching out for the toy. Except he jerked it out of your reach at the last second, holding it above his head with a teasing glint in his eye. You narrowed your eyes at him, continuing to whisper, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Alright, alright,” he snickered, setting the elephant down in your waiting palm. He used his other hand to grab your wrist, pulling you closer and pecking your forehead.

You looked up, leaning in to kiss him when you heard the creak of a floorboard right outside your bedroom door.

“You need some help in—?” Seohyuk cut his own question short as he knocked on your slightly ajar door, causing it to swing open. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had company…”

You froze, staring between the two of them as you realized that Seohyuk’s gaze was focused directly on Jisung. Immediately, you panicked, reeling back from your ghost as you tried to stay calm, process what the hell was going on, and manage the real-life façade of whatever Seohyuk must be thinking. The further you stepped away from Jisung, the more certain you were that Seohyuk could see him, his eyes flicking between the two of you very deliberately.

“Oh, no, it’s fine, uhm, Seohyuk, this is… my friend Jisung. I told him he could stop by whenever to borrow a book, I didn’t realize…” You trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you shuffled even further away from your ghost.

It was Jisung’s turn to look at you incredulously, clearly upset now at being introduced as your ‘friend.’ You cleared your throat awkwardly, gesturing between them. “Jisung, this is my brother Seohyuk.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Seohyuk flashed him a brilliant smile as he offered a hand for him to shake.

You watched with bated breath as Jisung seemed to debate doing this for a moment, then took it. To your relief and bewilderment, Jisung’s hand didn’t go through Seohyuk’s, and they shook… normally.

Seohyuk then pointed at the elephant in your hand. “Ellie and I will see you downstairs, Y/N.”

You meekly held the toy out for him to take without another word. He headed out of the room, and you nearly collapsed as soon as he was out of your sight. But you didn’t have time for that yet.

“I’m sorry, just go to the pond, I’ll come get you when they’re gone, okay?” You told Jisung in a hushed voice before he could voice any of his complaints at being called your friend, surprise at Seohyuk seeing him, or anything else. You had to get your family out of the house first.

He let out a short sigh, but nodded. “Alright, alright.”

You walked him down the stairs and to the front door, keeping a polite amount of distance between you two, well aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you from the living room. Opening the front door, you gave Jisung a courteous nod. “Alright, uh, bye, Jisung.”

“Yeah, uhm, goodnight, Y/N.” His eyes darted between you and over your shoulder, and you could tell it was taking everything in him not to habitually kiss you goodbye.

“Nice to meet you, Jisung!” Seohyuk called out from the living room.

“Uh, yeah, you too!” He replied, giving a final wave over his shoulder before departing.

You nearly slammed the door shut behind him, taking a deep breath in to calm yourself down before turning around.

Seohyuk grinned at you as you walked back into the living room. “Friend, huh?”

“Oh my God, shut up.”

“I’m just saying… he didn’t leave with a book.”

“Oh, you’re the worst!” You huffed as he burst into laughter.

Chaeyeon shook her head, handing SooSoo’s carseat to her husband.

“I swear, you two bicker like real siblings now,” she commented, wrapping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Seohyuk, leave her alone.”

“What? You didn’t see them, Chae, it was—”

“Drop it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held his free hand up, still with the same shit-eating grin.

“We’re going to get out of your hair now, hon,” Chaeyeon declared, squeezing your arm. She then looked at Seohyuk pointedly.

After giving the three of them your final goodbyes at the door, you closed it and locked it up behind them before dashing to the front window. Through a small crack between two blinds, you watched them load up Seohyuk’s new, sensible SUV before pulling away from the curb. Once you were certain they would be several streets away, you threw on a pair of shoes and ran out the door. Despite how dark it was, you knew the way to the pond by heart.

When you first entered the clearing, you couldn’t see your ghost, and your heart jumped to your throat. You took out your phone, shining the flashlight around everywhere. “Jisung?!” You cried out.

“Right here.” He appeared in front of you. “That still works, apparently.”

“God, what the hell just happened?!” You took his hand, marching back home with him in tow.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, Seohyuk not only could hear you, but see you and touch you?!”

“I know.”

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“I don’t know.”

You lifted his hand that you were hold up, shining your flashlight directly on it. He didn’t look or feel any different—cool to the touch, and he had always had some color to him. With your fast, anxious pace, it didn’t take you long to get back home, dragging him back inside.

Just in the foyer, you stopped and indicated for him to stay right there. Holding up your phone with the camera open, you took a picture of Jisung without even looking at the screen. The suspense didn’t last long, as you swiped to view the image, nearly dropping your phone in shock. Instead of the normal shadowy glitch in frame, your ghost was staring right back, his dark eyes wide open as he looked past the camera directly at you.

You wordlessly turned the phone around to show him. He reached out towards the screen, then pulled his hand back, resting his index finger in the center of his chest.

“Th-That’s me?” He asked hesitantly. “Right?”

“Yeah, Sungie,” you replied hoarsely. “That’s you.”

“What the hell is happening?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you feel okay?” Jisung asked abruptly.

“Huh?” You hurried to swallow the bite of food that you had just taken. “Yeah, Sungie, I feel fine. It’s not that hot yet.”

You had taken advantage of the cool spring day to do some much-needed weeding in the gardens, and were taking a break to eat the lunch that Jisung had just made for you. He took a sip of his lemonade before setting the cup down on the porch step beside him. Another new development: he could eat and drink now. He wasn’t necessarily hungry or thirsty like you, but he enjoyed food again.

“I don’t mean the weather, I mean—” He ran a hand through his hair as he took a minute to try to piece his words together. “All this that’s been happening. I’m definitely tied to you now, not the house. But I don’t want… to be… taking anything from you. Your soul, or life force, or whatever. I don’t know what’s going on, but if you feel any worse for it, then—”

“No, God, no,” you reassured him, putting your plate aside to scoot closer to him and wrap an arm around him. “I feel just fine, I promise.”

“Would you tell me if it was making you feel worse?”

“I would tell you if I didn’t feel good, yes, but whether or not that would hypothetically be connected is an entirely different question.”

He sighed, wringing his hands between his knees. “I’m just worried, Y/N. And scared. I don’t know what’s happening to us and I don’t like that.”

“I don’t like not knowing either,” you agreed quietly. “But it’s not hurting me, okay? And it’s not hurting you—Well, other than when you stubbed your toe the other day.”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to do that?” He whined, grabbing his foot through his shoe.

Yet another new thing—Jisung could feel physical pain again. Before, the only sort of harm he would come into was his headaches if he was going from the house for too long and got pulled back. Now, if he wasn’t careful to go through an object, he could hurt himself on it just like you. Bruise and all.

“Shotaro misses you, by the way,” you informed him. “He was lamenting the lack of office ghost activity lately.”

“Funny enough, I kinda miss him too,” Jisung admitted. “It’s so boring being stuck here all day now.”

“Mr. Choi put another dinner on our calendars next week, you know…” You said cautiously. “Do you want to come?”

He blinked at you. “Like… on purpose?”

“Yeah, it’s open to significant others too. We’re pretty certain everyone can see you now,” you reminded him, thinking of all the cashiers, strangers in public, and neighbors that had interacted with Jisung at this point.

“I—Yes, okay,” he agreed happily, looking down at his lap.

“Good, you’ll need lots of practice.”

“Practice for what?!”

“SooSoo’s birthday party next month.”

Down the street from the restaurant that you were supposed to meeting your coworkers at, you stopped Jisung on the sidewalk. Fixing his collar, you reminded him, “Okay, Sungie, remember, you’ve never met these people before. You can’t say stuff that you’re not supposed to know.”

“I know, I know,” he huffed, but stayed still as you messed with his hair too.

“How long have we been dating?”

“Three years.”

“Where did we meet?”

“The library.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a… freelance… graphic designer…?” He answered uncertainly, watching your face with each syllable.

“You have got to be more convincing than that.”

“I barely understand what that is!” He replied indignantly. “What if they ask me questions?”

“You just have to say that your clients make you sign NDAs so you can’t say anything about your projects!” You said. “Or pick a different job, I don’t know! Something that’s easy to talk around. I just don’t want you getting asked questions that are hard to answer.”

He shook his head. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, you’re my boyfriend and I want to introduce you to my coworkers.” You took his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I want you here. I’m not going to keep you locked up forever.”

Jisung took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tight. “Alright, okay. Let’s do it.”

Pushing the door open, you immediately spotted the table of your coworkers in the corner, waving to them as you walked over. Mr. Choi stood up to greet you, giving you a one-armed hug. His wife stood up as well, kissing your cheek.

“So good to see you, sweetheart.” She was absolutely beaming as she drew back and moved her expectant gaze to Jisung next to you.

You inhaled, starting the introductions. “This is my boyfriend, Jisung. Jisung, this is my supervisor, Mr. Choi, and his wife, Dahyun.”

Mr. Choi shook Jisung’s hand, broad grin on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, sir,” Jisung coughed over the crack in his voice, giving him the best bow that he could in the cramped space of the restaurant.

You were the last ones to arrive, and Sungchan thankfully scooted over to make room for you at the very end. Hastily doing introductions between everyone, you then started looking over the menu with Jisung.

“So, what do you do, Jisung?” Sungchan asked from your other side, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh, I’m uh, I’m a freelance…” Your ghost trailed off, and you squeezed his knee under the table to think of something fast before you would have to. “Photographer! Sorry, this menu just looks so good, I zoned out. I’m a photographer, yeah.”

Well, not the worst choice in the world.

Shotaro perked up from across the table. “Oh! Do you help Y/N with all those crazy pictures she posts?”

Jisung nodded hastily, latching onto the life preserver that your coworker had unknowingly thrown him. “Yes, yes I do.”

“They’re really cool,” Sungchan complimented him. “Is it all photo editing or is some of the effect practical?”

You looked over at your ghost to gauge if he was going to need your help on this one. He was frozen as he was clearly wracking his brain for how to answer, so you decided to swoop in.

“Some of it’s practical,” you answered for him. “But it’s a proprietary technique so he really can’t say much more than that…”

Sungchan held his hands up in surrender. “Ah, okay.”

“Do you have your own account?” Shotaro asked eagerly, bringing his phone out. “She never tags anyone.”

“So stingy with the credit,” Sungchan clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No, I don’t,” Jisung hastily replied. “I’m not really into that sort of stuff…”

“How do you get clients then? If you’re a freelancer but you don’t have social media?”

“Well…”

Seeing that he was panicking again, you smoothly took over, “Word of mouth. He’s just that good.”

Your coworkers seemed both impressed and satisfied, nodding to themselves and each other. “Cool, cool.”

As a waiter came around to start taking everyone’s orders, you patted Jisung’s leg under the table, reassuring him that he’d passed the first part of the gauntlet. He grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

As soon as the front door clicked shut behind you, Jisung let out a guttural groan, sinking to the floor against the hallway wall. He dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head.

“How do you do it?” He bemoaned.

“Do what?” You chuckled, hanging your purse up.

“Talk to that many people for so long.”

“Aw, my poor introverted ghost.” You pouted sympathetically, squatting down in front of him.

“I had friends when I was alive. A bunch. I saw them all the time. Every day!”

“Death changed you, Sungie.”

“Ugh…”

You stroked his hair. “So, do you not want to go to SooSoo’s birthday party? It’s fine if you don’t, I haven’t told them I’m bringing a guest yet, I was waiting to see how tonight went.”

Jisung lifted his head up just enough to rest his chin in his palms, squishing his cheeks up. “No, I had fun. I just… need to get used to people again. I’m not used to having to talk to people who aren’t you. I want to go to the birthday party with you. Especially since those people will be there.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” You smiled, gently tweaking his cheek. “Rule one, you can’t call them ‘those people.’ At least not to their face.”

“Fine.”

“Ready, baby?” Jisung asked as you turned the corner onto Seohyuk and Chaeyeon’s street.

“Mhm,” you responded, looking over at him skeptically. “Are you ready?”

“They’re family,” he replied seriously.

You snickered, leaning over to peck his cheek. “I almost believed you, Sungie. Good job.”

“Just don’t leave me alone with Hyukjun’s ex-wife,” he begged, breaking his facade.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you assured him. “Seohyuk says his mom’s been going to AA, though, and Joohyuk has been in anger management counseling ever since his wife left him, and that Minhyuk has totally mellowed out after experiencing empathy for the first time when he tried ayahuasca in Peru last month. So who knows, they might be better.”

“What a family,” he scoffed. “Can’t believe you’re dating a ghost and you’re like, the most normal one.”

“Debatable.”

“Okay, one of the most normal ones.”

You nodded towards the approaching house. “Get it out of your system now, there’s the front door.”

A serene smile spread across his face. “I’m done, and I’m perfectly nice now and will not bring any of that up for the rest of the afternoon.”

You had barely finished knocking when the front door swung open, Seohyuk on the other side. Your stepbrother immediately went to hug you. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you could make it.”

“Hi, Seohyuk. Wouldn’t miss it.” You patted his back. “Can’t believe she’s a year old already.”

“I know,” he sighed wistfully. Letting you go, he turned to Jisung, mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m Seohyuk, Y/N’s brother. Jisung, right?”

“Yes, it’s great to see you again.” Your ghost accepted his handshake.

You mouthed ‘cool it’ over Seohyuk’s shoulder at Jisung’s way too enthusiastic greeting, and he immediately reworked his expression, relaxing his face a bit more. Seohyuk stepped back and gestured you two inside, closing the door behind you. He guided you further in, pointing to where Jisung could put down the gift bag he had been carrying.

Chaeyeon spotted you from where she had been chatting with a few other guests, excusing herself before darting over to you, throwing her arms around your neck. “Y/N!”

“Chaeyeon!” You laughed, hugging her back. “We just got tea last week.”

“Yes, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t be excited to see you now.”

You turned around to where Jisung was awkwardly standing a couple steps behind you and latched onto his arm, dragging him over. “Chaeyeon, this is my boyfriend Jisung. Jisung, this is my sister-in-law Chaeyeon.”

She was absolutely cheesing as she turned to Jisung, stacking both hands over her chest as she was trying to contain her excitement. “Can I hug you? You can say no, I’m a hugger, but it’s fine, I totally get it.”

“Uhm yeah?” Jisung agreed before nearly being bowled over by Chaeyeon. “Oh!”

You covered your hand in an attempt to stifle your laugh. The hug was fleeting, as Chaeyeon let him go and grabbed your arm again, her face turning serious. She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially, and you had to strain your ears to hear her over the noise of all the other partygoers and children playing.

“Okay, so drinks are in the kitchen—no alcohol since Jieun is recovering, you know. We didn’t think it was necessary since it’s a kid’s birthday anyway. You already know, don’t ask Joohyuk where his wife is. And Minhyuk… for your own sake, don’t ask about his trip to South America unless you want to hear him talk about the spiritual benefits of psychedelics for two hours straight,” she debriefed you quietly. “Here, I’ll introduce you guys to some of my friends from the mom pilates class that I attend; they’re cool, I promise!”

With that, Chaeyeon took off, leaving you to catch up. You grabbed Jisung’s hand, chuckling as you followed after your sister-in-law.

Later in the party found you sat on the couch, chatting with two of Chaeyeon’s mom-ilates friends. Jisung emerged from the kitchen where he had been getting plates of food for the both of you, looking flustered as he dropped into the empty spot next to you.

“Finally,” you commented, accepting your plate from him. “What took you so long? Was there a line for the pretzels?”

“Minhyuk cornered me,” he groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I didn’t even ask about Peru, I told him you were waiting but that just made it worse. As soon as I brought you up, he started saying something about how when he was tripping, he realized how terrible they all were to you, and he started crying? I really don’t think he’s okay, like mentally…”

You let out a sputtering laugh, rubbing Jisung’s shoulder sympathetically. “Sounds rough, Sungie.”

“Leechan!” One of the moms suddenly barked out her son’s name, shooting to her feet. She shot you an annoyed look before stomping off to grab a boy from a tussle that had broken out.

The other mom that had been with you let out a sigh as she calmly finished her last bite of cake before setting her plate down and getting up as well. “Ryujin! That’s it! We’re going!”

“Remember how you asked me if I wanted kids?” You asked Jisung quietly, making sure to turn your head so only he heard you.

“Mhm?” His voice wavered.

“Yeah, no,” you scoffed. “I’ll be Aunt Y/N for the rest of my life, thanks.”

He snickered, rubbing your back. “That’s—”

Jisung suddenly froze, his eyes going wide and snapping down to the floor in front of the couch. You looked down to see what had startled him, immediately spotting your niece clambering over his feet and attempting to climb up his legs.

“SooSoo, your Uncle Jisung is not a jungle gym,” Seohyuk chastised his daughter lightly, scooping her up in his arms.

The toddler giggled, babbling as she still reached her chubby little arms out towards your ghost.

“Do you want to hold her?” Your stepbrother offered.

Jisung looked at you hesitantly. You chuckled, reaching for his plate on his lap. “Do you, Sungie? It’s okay if you don’t, but I can hold your plate for you if you want.”

“Sure?” He opened his arms as you moved the food, clearing the way for Seohyuk to deposit the birthday girl there.

“Relax, Jisung,” Seohyuk laughed. “She won’t bite. Probably.” He perked up and turned around as his name was called from across the room. “Yeah, coming, Mom!”

That left you, Jisung, and SooSoo. You poked your niece’s belly, making her laugh, the sound ringing through the air like bells. She reached for Jisung again, this time succeeding in grabbing the chain that was hanging around his neck and yanking on it. He jerked forward with it in surprise.

“Ah, gentle, sweet,” you reminded her, fishing the rest of his necklace from under his collar. He was able to sit up straight again as SooSoo was fascinated by the starburst pendant, which matched the ring on your own finger.

“She’s so…”

“Big?” You suggested humorously, playing with the single tuft of hair tied up on top of her head that reminded you of a leek. You were thinking about the first time you saw her after she was born, when she was just a few pounds, compared to now.

“Little,” Jisung finished, his voice quiet but filled with awe.

You looked at him a little funny, scooting in closer to continue your conversation at a lower volume. “You were there when the Kims were all babies, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t really there,” he murmured. “And they were kinda… I don’t know, boring. They were babies, they didn’t do anything. I don’t think I learned their names until they could talk.”

You laughed much louder than you had been talking, drawing a couple passing glances. Burying your face in Jisung’s shoulder to muffle yourself, you were easily able to picture a disinterested, aloof ghost Jisung turning up his nose at a “boring” baby Seohyuk asleep in a crib. As tears eked out the sides of your eyes, you felt your ghost drop a kiss to the top of your head, the curl of his smile evident.

That night, you were happy and bone-achingly tired, but some part of your brain couldn’t seem to get the memo. With a sigh, you opened your nightstand drawer, rooting around for your bottle of sleeping meds.

Jisung shuffled out of bed. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

The bedroom door opened, stairs squeaked, and distantly, in the dead silence of the house, you could hear the kitchen faucet. Then, the stairs squeaked again, and Jisung closed the door behind him. As you sat up to accept the cup from him, you squinted at him inquisitively.

“Did you use the door?”

He looked back at the door, blinking hurriedly as he belatedly realized what happened. “Yeah, I did. I guess I was practicing so much to make sure I didn’t walk through anything in front of your family that I forgot.”

As he climbed back into bed, you knocked back the pill and set your water aside. Ruffling Jisung’s hair, you smiled at him fondly, feeling your chest swell. “Thank you, Sungie. I love you so much. I know that all this must be so hard and scary, and you’ve been doing so much for me. Really, thank you.”

“Ah, Y/N,” he chuckled nervously, ducking his head. He picked up your hand, though, playing with your fingers as he spoke, eyes focused on your entwined hands. “Thank you. I’m… You made me real. I know we don’t know for sure what’s going on, but that’s what I believe.”

“Real?” You echoed tentatively.

His hand phased through yours, a chill zipping up your arm, then he turned solid again, fingertips skimming over your pulse point on your wrist. “I’m not human again. I-I don’t know if I ever will be. I don’t want to get our hopes up. But I’m more than I was before you.”

You grabbed his hand, wrapping yours around the back of it and closing all of his fingers except his pointer. “You’re enough for me no matter what you are, Jisung.” You lifted your hands to your chest, drawing an X over your heart. “If we woke up tomorrow and you were incorporeal again, you’d still be the love of my life.”

“You’re the love of my life and afterlife.” Jisung pulled your hands over to him, drawing one leg of the X on ‘life’ and the other on ‘afterlife.’ “Cross my heart.”

“No fair pulling the afterlife card,” you teased, using your other hand to drag him into a kiss.

He kissed you unhurriedly, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers. When you broke away for air, he squeezed your hand, tender gaze tracing over your features. “Guess I’ll always love you more, then.”

“Nuh-uh!” You retorted childishly, even as you were beginning to struggle with keeping your eyes open.

“Getting sleepy?” He asked smugly.

“Maybe.”

“Lay down, I’ll read to you.”

“Fine, but you didn’t win.”

“Alright, alright,” he hummed, reaching for the book on his nightstand. Settling down under the covers, you let your eyes close as Jisung began reading. Your ghost’s deep voice gently started lulling you to sleep as he kept one hand clasped with yours, resting over your heart.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001

@tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal

@sofipolii01

“oh, guys, you two must be holding back some really wild stories,” jisung gasps, his eyes wide and mischievous. you chuckle lightly though it feels a bit forced. minho just smirks, playing along, raising his eyebrows in mock arrogance.

“opposite to some of you, i do not kiss and tell,” minho says, his voice smooth and teasing. jisung and hyunjin both let out exaggerated sighs before diving right back into their conversation about one-night stands. minho drops his hand onto your shoulder, pulling you close.

“wanna go home? i kinda miss the kids,” he whispers softly.

you really try not to make it a big thing. usually, you can shake off those thoughts before they take over, but tonight, it’s different. you can’t stop replaying the moment. the way jisung laughed, the way minho didn’t say much. it’s just a joke, just guys being guys, you tell yourself. but somehow it sticks.

when you get home, minho drops his keys on the hallway drawer, saying he’ll check if the cats have enough food for the night. you hum in response, heading straight to the bathroom. is it your fault? should you have tried harder? is it something deeper, something wrong with you that you haven’t dealt with? maybe it’s trauma. maybe therapy could fix it. or medication?

minho comes into the bathroom a few minutes later, dori cradled in his arms. he puts him down on the washing machine and grabs the toothpaste, brushing his teeth beside you like any other night. dori hops onto the basin, sniffing around curiously, and you give him a small pet, but your mind is miles away. everything you do is on autopilot — washing your face, flossing your teeth, going through your skincare routine.

“you’re quiet,” minho says as you’re sitting on your side of the bed, changing into your sleep shirt.

“yeah,” you murmur, not meeting his gaze. you feel him move closer, his hand gently tracing patterns on your back, that small gesture that usually comforts you.

“something wrong? or you’re just burned out from hanging out with everyone?” he asks, still drawing those soothing shapes.

you want to shrug it off, tell him it’s nothing, but you both promised to always be honest with each other. no matter what. and that was easy, when the things you had to share weren’t this heavy and vulnerable. but now, it feels like too much.

“do you ever regret dating me?” you ask, your voice small, like you’re afraid of the answer, “i’ll understand if you do.”

minho’s hand stills. he pulls back slightly, his brows furrowing as he sits up on the bed.

“what?” his voice is soft, but there’s an edge of confusion.

“i mean… it’s not exactly the kind of relationship you’re used to,” you mumble, still avoiding his gaze. instead, you focus on the window, on anything but him. “i love you, but i’d understand if you wanted an open relationship.”

the words taste bitter coming out, and deep down you know you wouldn’t be okay with it. the idea of him being intimate with someone else makes you sick, but you’re willing to say anything to avoid losing him.

minho’s expression shifts, realization slowly dawning on him. “wait… what?” he says, his voice a little more steady now, but still tinged with disbelief. “why would i want an open relationship? to have sex?”

he’s quiet for a moment, and then, gently, he leans his head onto your shoulder. “that’s basically cheating,” he says softly.

“it’s not if i say it’s okay,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“but it’s not what i want.” he sighs, pressing his forehead to your back. “yeah, sometimes it’s hard. i’m not gonna lie and say i’m always fine with it, because i’m not. but that doesn’t mean i want to go out and be with someone else.”

“is this because of jisung and his stupid questions about our sex life?”

your breath hitches, tears welling up. “i don’t want to hold you back. there are people who could give you what you deserve, people who—”

“stop,” he cuts you off, hugging you from behind, his arms tight around you. “i don’t want ‘other people.’ i want you.”

“but i’m not enough,” you whisper, the tears falling now.

minho pulls back a little, turning you toward him. “listen to me,” he says, his voice steady. “i love you. i love our relationship. yeah, sometimes i miss having sex more often, but it’s not the most important thing to me. i love being with you. i love that you get me in ways no one else ever has. i love the way we can just sit in silence together and it’s not awkward. i love how you care about me and my stupid cats. i love how you make me laugh when i’ve had the worst day.”

you’re quiet, still not fully believing him, but he keeps going. “sex is great, sure. but it’s not everything. i don’t need it all the time to feel close to you. i’m happy with what we have. i want to be with you because of who you are, not because of how much we do or don’t have sex.”

you try to take in what minho’s saying, but the doubt is still there, clinging to your thoughts. you swallow hard, looking away from him, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

“but… what if you change your mind?” you whisper, not trusting yourself to speak louder. “what if one day you wake up and realize this isn’t enough?”

minho sighs softly, shifting so that he’s sitting right in front of you. he takes your hands gently, squeezing them as if to ground you, as if to make you feel his words even more.

“i’m not going to change my mind,” he says quietly, his eyes locked on yours. “i know what i want. and what i want is you. not some ideal version of a relationship or what anyone else thinks is normal. just you.”

you bite your lip, your voice cracking as you try to argue. “but you deserve more. i don’t want you to be disappointed. i don’t want you to settle for something less.”

“stop,” he says gently but seriously, his hands cupping your face now, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “i’m not settling. you’re not less. why can’t you see that?”

you feel the tears start again, your chest tightening with all the fear and insecurity you’ve been holding in. “because i don’t get how you could be happy with this,” you say, your voice breaking. “i don’t get how this can be enough for you when it doesn’t feel like enough for me sometimes.”

minho’s expression softens, and he presses his forehead against yours. “hey, it’s okay to feel like that. it’s okay to have doubts sometimes. but i need you to know — i’m happy. even when it’s hard, i’m still happy with us. with you.”

his voice is soft, calm, like he’s trying to soothe the storm raging inside you. “i want what we have, even if it’s not what everyone else expects or talks about. i’m not some guy who needs to have sex all the time to feel loved. when you’re happy, i’m happy. if that means sex is rare, then fine. i still get to be close to you in other ways.”

you want to believe him. god, you want to so badly. but the doubt still lingers. “but what if you wake up one day and realize i’m not enough?” you repeat, voice shaking.

minho looks you straight in the eyes, his expression soft but unwavering. “then i’ll wake up every day after that and remind myself why i chose you in the first place. because you are enough for me. more than enough. i don’t need anything else.”

his hands find yours again, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “i know it’s hard to believe sometimes,” he whispers against your hair, “but trust me. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bury your face in his chest, letting the tears fall as he holds you. his heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, his arms warm around you, like he’s holding you together even when you feel like you’re falling apart.

“i love you,” he murmurs softly, kissing the top of your head. “just as you are. i don’t need anything more.”

you take a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “i… i don’t know if i can believe it right now,” you admit, your voice small and fragile. “but maybe… maybe one day, i’ll try to.”

“So I was like, ‘dude, I have a girlfriend, why would you even suggest that’!? They went without me— good riddance— and I blocked them too, so there’s no need to worry. Maybe this is what Kevin meant when he warned me to stop hanging out with random people I meet on the streets. But, I met you on the streets too, so I can’t trust anything Kevin says anymore. Imagine if I hadn’t stopped to get your number at the crosswalk? My life would be so boring now!” Eric continued animatedly, drumming his fingers against the pillow that rested in his lap, picking out the rhythm to one of The Boyz’s songs.

“And I might actually be able to get some sleep…” You interjected with a tired whisper, rolling on your side to face your boyfriend. You opened your eyes with a pointed glare, and Eric’s let out a small “oh”.

“Right. Sorry, baby. You should sleep.” He said quickly, plopping down next to you and planting a quick kiss to your forehead. He was quiet for around 3 minutes, before you heard a small whisper close to your face.

“You don’t ever regret taking my number, do you?” You opened one eye to find Eric staring at you, his eyes wide like a puppy’s. 

“No, I don’t regret it.” You said truthfully, a yawn coming in at the end of your response. Eric smiled slightly, his brain telling him that he should let you finally sleep, but it seemed his mouth had other ideas.

“What if I was a furry? Would you still date me?” You had to hold back a laugh at the question, assuming that it was a reference to his earlier rambling. Although you couldn’t recall how the full conversation had gone, you were pretty sure that even if you did, it wouldn’t help you understand Eric’s brain.

“Who said you weren’t already?” You asked sarcastically, earning a pout from the boy that was almost impossible to resist kissing. 

“What if instead of talking to you I just barked in response?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, silently judging his train of thought that was getting increasingly more unhinged with every minute that went by. You being extremely tired didn’t help with your patience for his incessant questions. You loved your boyfriend, you really did. But sometimes you just wanted him to shut up and let you sleep.

“What if instead of walking—”

Eric thankfully was not able to finish his sentence, which you could only assume had something to do with crawling on all fours or galloping around like a pony, because you had finally given in to your thoughts and shut up his rambling with your lips. He was shocked at first, frozen in place from your sudden movement. But kissing you was as natural as breathing to him, so he quickly found his rhythm, pulling you closer by your waist and kissing you deeply. 

“Was that a yes?” Came Eric’s first words when you broke off for air. 

“If you mean breaking up if you became a furry, then definitely yes. Now shut your pretty mouth.” You stated clearly before crashing your lips onto his again, giving him no opportunity to protest.

It was surprising how easy it was to get lost in the kiss even when you were exhausted. With Eric eagerly leading, it was simple enough to just let him do most of the work. You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair as he squeezed your waist, letting his tongue slip past your lips gently. 

It seemed your kissing idea worked wonders to exhaust your boyfriend’s energy, as when he broke it off and fell back onto the pillow, he wrapped you up in his arms and let his eyes fall close. You could feel his heart racing, your ear resting over his chest. His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink colour and his lips slightly swollen from the prolonged kiss. As his heartbeat slowed to a regular speed, you naturally matched your breathing with it, and the repetition lulled you to sleep quickly.

Eric held you tightly in his arms, listening to your steady breathing. He was tired, but his mind still raced with thoughts. Rather than meaningless questions he loved to throw at you, they all shifted to thoughts of you. He didn’t deserve your patience at the best of times, and was forever thankful that you truly loved him for himself. 

He knew he could be overbearing and exhausting at times, but he tried his best to balance it with the soft romantic moments that you and him both loved. You were quite similar to each other, the more Eric thought about. Although you were definitely more subdued, which balanced his exuberant energy quite well.

He sniffed, not having realized until now that his eyes had welled up with tears from his thoughts. He sheepishly blinked them away and held you a little closer in his arms, falling into his dreamland with you.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @recordsfilm,, @bananabubble,,

☆ warnings: not proofread! outdoor sex, exhibitionism, fingering, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex (do not do this), pet names like ‘baby, princess, good girl’, they’re very in love

  Your daily commute to the convenience store was nothing out of the ordinary. Except this time, today, there was.

  You weren't paying attention to your surroundings, your body running on autopilot. You walked towards the next aisle, a few items in your hands, then— CRASH!

  Before you knew it, you ran straight into a very warm, hard wall...? The items you held clattered to the floor and when you looked up, you realised it wasn't a wall. It was a man. A very attractive man.

  "Shit! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." You quickly apologised. You didn't notice his hand was supported on your lower back until you both stepped away from each other.

  "No worries, are you okay?" He asks before you both crouch down to pick your dropped items up, his hand accidentally brushing yours. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay, thank you..." You blush as you both stand back up, and he helps you take the items to the checkout.

  Searching for an opportunity to ask him for his number, your mind was racing. The two of you walked out of the store together, and the man hands you your bag of items. "Get home safely." He smiles, waving, before he turns his back to you and walks the opposite direction.

  It dawned on you as you watched him walk away into the distance that neither of you told each other your names. Idiot.

  It's ridiculous how such a short, insubstantial interaction with an attractive guy put such a big smile on your face during your walk home. What an odd day.

  · · ─────── · ·

  When you were close to your house, you heard a meow from around the corner. Stopping in your tracks, you listened closer.

  Meow.

  You decided to see if your ears were playing tricks on you. When you turned the corner, you spotted a white rag doll cat with matted, filthy fur, that seemed to be starving. You cautiously approached it, but when you held your hand out, it immediately came to you.

  "Hi little one," You call in a sweet voice. It lets you pet it whilst you take the time to study the collar around it's neck, reading what was engraved on it. "Ah, so your name is Luna." You contemplate aloud.

  You scoop the cat up and make your way to your house just down the road. "Come on Luna, I'll get you something to eat."

  Stepping into your home, you go straight to your kitchen. "There you go, I'll be right back with food." You call to the cat while setting her down on the floor. You get a bowl and fill it with cat food, placing it on the floor.

  After you ensured the cat was fully fed, you took the time to run it a bath. You expected the process of washing her to be hard, but Luna was one of the most docile cats you've ever met. When you placed her into the bath, she literally just stood there and allowed you to clean her with no troubles.

  "All done!" Calling in a sing-songy voice, you gently lift the drenched cat from the bathtub and pat her dry with a towel. "I should really give your owner a call now."

  You sat in the living room watching over Luna as you dialed the numbers that were on her collar into your phone. You felt guilty that you desperately wanted to keep the cat, but this was the right thing to do.

  The phone rings several times until it's finally picked up, a males voice speaking over it. "Hello?"

  "Hi, sorry if you're busy but I've got your cat, Luna, in my apartment, I found her outside." You explain and you hear the man gasp. "Oh my God, you found her?! She's been missing for almost two weeks!" The owner exclaims.

  "Are you able to come pick her up now?" You ask, waiting for the owner to answer. A few moments pass, you assume he's looking at the time or something. "Maybe, may I ask for your address to see how close it is? I have some errands to run but those can wait."

  You give him your address and apartment number, and luckily you lived only a few blocks away from him. "I'll be there in 15 minutes!" The owner says before hanging up the phone. You look across the room and see Luna playing with a cat toy you had. You really wanted to keep her.

  · · ─────── · ·

  After fifteen minutes exactly, your doorbell rung. You buzz him up, and a few moments more a you hear a soft knock on your door. You grab Luna and open the door.

  It was him! The guy from the convenience store earlier that day was Luna's owner. Maybe it was fate to meet again.

  "Oh, hello there again." He greets first, a sheepish smile adorned his face, seemingly taken aback that it's you. "H-Hi, here's your cat." You hand Luna over.

  Luna's owner immediately engulfs the cat in a hug. "Oh my baby, I missed you!" He dramatically sighs and you can't help but giggle. "Don't ever run away again." He scolds the cat with a pout.

  He looks back at you for a moment. "Um, I should give you some money or something for finding her." He fumbles with his pant pocket, about to pull out his wallet. "No! It's fine, you don't need to do that."

  The man nods in understanding, putting his wallet back in his pocket. "I'm Jaemin, by the way." He introduces himself.

  The name strangely suited him. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, again..." You mutter the last part and he laughs. "I really love your cat by the way, she's so well behaved!"

  "Yes, she's a dream. Except when she decides to go on little adventures around the neighbourhood," Jaemin smiles and coos at the cat in his arms.

  A few moments pass in silence as you study the man. He seemed lost in thought, until he finally looked up at you with a grin and opened his mouth. "Hey, instead of me paying you, maybe you could come visit Luna and my other cats every now and then?"

  The proposition sounded very tempting. But you hardly knew the guy... Your survival instincts were screaming red flag! But deep down you knew Jaemin was harmless.

  This could be the perfect opportunity to get to know him. "Sure, I'd love that."

  "Great! I'll give you my number."

  · · ─────── · ·

  You and Jaemin had been texting non-stop since. Mostly because he would spam you to play pool with him on iMessage but that's besides the point. Every time you'd get a notification from him, you'd start giggling and kicking your feet. You were down bad for a man you hardly knew.

  Jaemin hadn't asked you to come over yet. He was scared you'd misunderstand his intentions. You expected that, so you initiated first.

  When the conversation you were currently having with him died down, you decided to finally bring it up.

                           so... when do i finally get                             to see luna again?

    I'm free tomorrow,     you? :)

                            sounds like a plan!!

  Squealing over the message like you were a teenager texting your crush, you immediately stood up to pick out an outfit while you texted back.

  You turned your phone off and threw it on your bed as you looked through your closet. Jaemin had a good fashion sense, — You definitely didn't stalk his Instagram — so, what you picked had to be something that wasn't too much, but also give a good impression.

  You decided on wearing a baby blue sweater with a white skirt to match. The skirt wasn't too short, but you did decide to wear it on purpose. Whether that purpose was good or bad, you didn't know.

  You could hardly fall asleep, excited for what was to come tomorrow.

  · · ─────── · ·

  When you approached Jaemin's apartment building, you started feeling anxious. What if he ends up hating me?

  Those kinds of self destructive thoughts are what would always hold you back from things. But this time you refused to listen to them.

  You took the elevator to his floor, double checking the room number he sent you. Knocking on the door that had the numbers 24 on it, you heard clattering inside and quick footsteps approaching the door.

  Your anxiety bubbled down when the door swung open and you were met with Jaemin's smile that beamed down onto you like the sun. He looked a little disheveled, his hair messy and his face flushed. Why was he out of breath?

  "Hey Y/N. Come on in," Jaemin steps aside and lets you pass him, stepping into the small hallway. "Um, ignore the mess please. Luna and Lucy were fighting just before you came, and I had to break them up. Very strenuous work." He explains with a chuckle, gesturing towards the knocked over items on the floor that you assumed was the decor on his coffee table.

  "No worries. Where is Luna?" You ask, looking around and only seeing a male cat you've never seen before. "That's Luke. Luna's probably hiding under the couch. I've put Lucy in timeout since she was the one that started the fight."

  Jaemin continued to tell you about his cats. You loved how proud he was to be a cat father. As you sat on his couch together, a white furball in the corner of your eye nudges your leg. "Luna, there you are!"

  You coo as you grab the cat and pull her into a hug. "My other cats will be jealous," Jaemin chuckles. "Luna seems to love you."

  "I have to admit, I almost kept her when I found her." You smile guiltily, but Jaemin just laughs. "You know, Luna's the only one of my cats that don't warm up to other people besides me. You're special."

  Your heart races at Jaemin's words, heat creeping up your neck. "I just have that effect, I guess." You smile sheepishly.

  Jaemin just nods, silence filling the room. You continued to play with Luna, not noticing the gaze the man had on you. You only turn to look at him when he clears his throat.

  "Do you want to get something to eat?" Jaemin asks. Your eyes widen a little, caught off guard. "There's a cafe close by. We could walk." He adds.

  You can't help but smile. "Why not?"

  · · ─────── · ·

  Was this a date? Those thoughts ran through your head during the walk to the cafe. You and Jaemin walked side by side, close enough that your hands would brush every couple of steps. You noticed he was a bit shy, and so were you.

  The two of you now sat side by side in a booth. You thought that a table where you faced each other was too 'date-like', so you gravitated towards a booth and it seemed Jaemin understood and slid beside you.

  Since it was midday, you ordered bacon and eggs with an iced tea as brunch, Jaemin the same. "So Jaemin, what do you do?"

  "I'm in my last year of college. I'm majoring in graphic design and photography. I'd like to make it into my career some day." Jaemin explains, and you stare at him in awe. "What about you?"

  "I never went to college, so I've been kind of aimlessly working different retail jobs. It's enough for me, I never really had a dream career." You explain, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop. "Sorry, I overshared a bit there."

  Jaemin just shakes his head. "No, I want to learn more about you. Overshare all you want!"

  You just nod and smile, about to ask another question but were interrupted by the waitress placing your food and drinks down in front of you.

  "Thank you," You say as the waitress walks off. "Um, so what made you get three cats?"

  Jaemin laughs. "I don't really know, to be honest. I started with one, then I ended up adopting the other two. They're siblings, I couldn't bear the fact they'd be separated."

  "Awe, that's so cute. You're so admirable." You compliment and you don't miss how he shyly smiles.

  The conversation went smoothly, the two of you learning things about one another. You even told him stuff some of your friends don't even know about. Jaemin felt like a safe space, like you could confide in anything with him.

  Finishing your meal, the question of if this was something more than just a hangout plagued your mind, so you decided to just ask. "Jaemin, is this a date?"

  You just had to ask him when he was taking a sip of his drink. He choked, coughing. You pat his back to help him out, making sure he was okay before speaking again. "Sorry, is it not?"

  "It originally wasn't, but if that's what you want it to be, then sure." Jaemin smiles at you. His eye contact was magnetic, you couldn't stop yourself from looking at him.

  "Okay..." You replied meekly, not expecting that reply. Your face was burning at this point.

  Your body jolts when Jaemin's hand covers your own hand, that was placed on the booth seat. "However, I would like to take you on a proper date. What do you say?"

  Your heart jumped into your throat, not able to speak at his forwardness despite his outwardly shy demeanor. You melt at the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. "It's okay, Y/N. Don't be anxious."

  It's like he knew you already. "That'd be lovely, I-I mean, I'd like that." You stumble over your words, making you both chuckle in amusement.

  After a few more conversations, you both decide it's time to leave. "I'll walk you home." Jaemin offers.

  "No! You don't have to do that," You shake your head. "But I want to." Jaemin insists.

  "I don't want to trouble you..." You sigh. Jaemin pouts but nods in understanding. "Okay, fine. Just make sure to text me when you get home so I know you're safe!"

  "Fine, dad," You groan, rolling your eyes jokingly. "See ya!" Jaemin just grins, waving like how he did when you first met. "Bye, Y/N!" He calls as the two of you part ways.

  · · ─────── · ·

  It was the night of your and Jaemin's proper date and you were shaking with anxiety. He was taking you to the movies, so it was going to be a chill, fun date Putting your outfit on, you admired yourself in the mirror.

  You decided on a simple white long sleeved crop-top and a light blue pleated denim skirt. Along with some sheer tights underneath since it was getting colder.

  It was just a casual outfit, but something about it made you look hot. You checked the time and saw you only had 45 minutes until Jaemin arrives, so you scramble to do your hair and makeup.

  Luckily you finished right on time, putting on your perfume as the last step before you heard a knock on the door. Grabbing your bag and putting your shoes on, you open the door.

  "Jaemin!" You exclaim, engulfing him in a hug. You could still feel the lingering touch of his hand on your waist when you pulled away. "You look amazing," Jaemin smirks, eyeing your figure. You couldn't help but feel small in his gaze.

  You took the time to drink him in. His hair was styled in the way he usually does but this time he looks different. Sexy. He wore a simple white t-shirt with a black leather jacket paired with a pair of jeans. "I could say the same to you." You smile.

  "Shall we go?" He asks as he jokingly lifts his arm up for you to link yours with his, and you nod with a laugh. Jaemin opens the passenger door to his car for you and you can't help but tease him for how chivalrous he was being.

  "So, what movie are you taking me to?" You ask, looking over at the man now focused on the road ahead. "It's a secret." He hums and you roll your eyes.

  "If it's a horror movie I might kill you, I swear." You mutter and Jaemin laughs. "I can tell you it's not horror. Don't worry, you'll love it."

  When Jaemin pulled into an outdoor parking lot, you were confused. Where was the movie theatre? But then you realised it was an outdoor cinema, and you squealed. "I've never been to one of these before!"

  Jaemin smiles as he parks his car in a spot that had a clear view of the screen. "And, guess what?" He replies. "It's a showing of your favourite movie!"

  You gasped. He remembered your favourite movie? You both talked about all your favourite things with each other over text but you didn't expect this at all. It may have been the bare minimum, but your heart swelled with love nonetheless.

  Jaemin got a blanket and a few pillows from his backseat and you helped him spread them into the trunk of his car, creating a nice seating area for the two of you to watch the movie comfortably.

  "This is so lovely, thank you Jaem." The nickname rolled of your tongue. "I like that, 'Jaem'." He murmurs, mimicking the nickname. "Call me that more often, baby."

  Your knees almost buckled at the pet name he gave you. His words laced with honey had you wrapped around his finger, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

  After back and forth flirting, you settled into the trunk of Jaemin's car. The movie started playing and you were immediately enthralled, not realising how close you were laying next to Jaemin until you felt his hand rest your thigh.

  You shyly peeked at him, he was fully focused on the movie. You lean in closer to him as the night air was getting colder, and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

  You basked in the feeling of his touch, not wanting it to end. Sadly, it ended as soon as it started, because Jaemin moved his arm to pull a blanket up on the two of you. His touch was quickly replaced by his hand on your thigh again.

  He started tracing circles on the inside of your thigh and you shivered. The seemingly innocent action quickly making you think impure thoughts.

  Swallowing, you looked away out of shame. "What's wrong, princess?" Jaemin asks in a whisper, and you jump at how close he is to your face when you whip your head back around. "Why're you so jumpy?"

  "I-I'm sorry," you stutter, trying not to make a fool of yourself. Jaemin smirks when you look down at his lips, not breaking the distance between you. "Can I kiss you?" You whisper.

  Jaemin doesn't answer as he closes the distance between you, and you melt into the kiss almost instantly. It was sweet and gentle, like he was being cautious. But you got impatient, swiping your tongue against his lips.

  He lets you in, sucking on his tongue as your hand toys at the hair on the nape of his neck. He groans softly onto your lips, enamoured by you.

  You can feel the hand he has on your thigh creep up dangerously close to your growing arousal, his other hand cupping your cheek. When you pull away, he grips your inner thigh roughly. "Wanna make you feel good, can I?" He whispers seductively into your ear.

  You nod your head but Jaemin shakes his in response. "Nuh-uh, I need to hear you say it."

  "Please, Jaem... Want you." You mewl and he grins. "I'll take care of you."

  He pulls you into his lap while still keeping the blanket on you, his hand cups your clothed core from under your skirt, which was now raised up past your upper thigh. You sigh, your head falling into his shoulder as he slips your underwear out of the way.

  "You know, I never hook up on the first date, but you..." Jaemin whispers lowly into your ear, you squirm under his touch when his fingertips just brush your clit, it's not enough. "You make me crazy, I can't keep my hands off of you."

  Whimpers spill out of your mouth when Jaemin's thumb finally rubs your clit, slow and tantalising. The movie was loud enough and the car was far away from others that you doubt anyone would hear you unless you started screaming, so you let out any pretty noises that Jaemin forced out of you.

  His fingers rub up and down your vulva with his thumb still on your clit. "So wet for me, you're adorable." Jaemin cooed, his deep voice so close to your ear. You watch as he moves his hand that was on your pussy up to his mouth, his lips wrapping around his digits.

  He hums in delight, not breaking eye contact with you as he licks them clean of your slick. "Fuck..." You moan softly at his ministrations, your eyelids heavy with lust.

  "Can't wait to taste you properly. But that'll have to wait." Jaemin pouts, the enticing tone of his voice making you insatiable. "Jaem, need more. The movie's almost finished."

  He listens, his fingers dipping into your entrance, but only giving you just a taste of them. He was doing it on purpose.

  You groan in frustration, and he just chuckles while finally putting two fingers inside you. He shows no mercy as he fucks his fingers quickly into you straight away, making you pant and writhe against him.

  You were so wound up already, and he didn't even touch you that much. Maybe it was just his aura, but it felt like Jaemin had cast a spell on you. You were love drunk on him. It was only your first date, you remind yourself.

  When you throw your head back into his shoulder out of desperation, his lips swallow your moans, you could barely breathe with how long he kissed you but you loved it. Then, he added a third finger, then a fourth. You were gone.

  You were already wound up tight but once he added pressure on your clit with his thumb, and you felt his other hand press down on your lower abdomen harshly, it was over.

  "Fuck— fuck, Jaemin!" You choke out, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. "Shit, you came fast." Jaemin chuckles in your ear, and you feel like crying when you feel him pull his hand away. You were about to protest, tell him to get over himself, but he puts his fingers in your mouth right as you opened your mouth.

  You lick your cum off of them, not breaking eye contact despite the fact that his eyes on you doing something so lewd made you want to crawl into a hole. "You look so pretty." He smiles.

  How could he sound and look so sweet during such an impure moment? "Can I do something to help you out too?" You ask when you shift your body and feel his rock hard cock on your ass. "It's okay, the movies about to finish anyway. I like pleasing you." He shakes his head.

  You hum, turning your attention back to the ending scene of the movie. "I can't wait to sink my dick in that pretty pussy of yours, though." Jaemin whispers into your ear when the credits start rolling, his voice deep and laced with sin.

  "My place or yours?" You ask, pulling your panties back in place and your skirt down before you help Jaemin pack up the blankets and pillows. "Mine."

  When you were in the car on the way back to Jaemin's apartment, a sense of dread suddenly came over you. It wasn't because you were scared of him, it was how he thought of you right now.

  What if he thought you were a slut for hooking up on the first date? What if he just wanted to fuck and nothing more? Your leg started bouncing anxiously as you sat in the passenger seat next to Jaemin.

  "Are you having second thoughts? I can take you home if you are," Jaemin speaks up, worry in his voice. "No, no it's not that... I just..." You trail off, unable to get your words out.

  "It's okay. Let it out." Jaemin reassures, placing his hand on your thigh and squeezing lightly. "Are you just doing this for the fuck, or do you actually want this to go somewhere? Because I do." You speak after moments of hesitation.

  Jaemin stays silent for a moment, before finally opening his mouth. "I gave you my number originally because I had an interest in you since the convenience store, if I'm being honest. This is not just to hook up."

  You let out an exhale you didn't even know you were holding. You stay silent as Jaemin parks his car in front of his apartment building, you could tell he wanted to say more.

  "I do want this to go somewhere. I don't care where, I'd just like to be with you in any way I can. I really like you, Y/N." Jaemin confesses.

  "I know we have just gotten to know each other, but my heart pounds every time I see you, even when I get a notification from you on my phone." He continues and you can't wipe the grin on your face.

  "God, I believe we're fated to meet because why are you so perfect?" You utter and he laughs. "I just poured my heart out to you and that's how you reply?"

  You giggle and playfully shove him. "Sorry, I can't take this seriously. But I'm grateful you can be so emotional with me, because I'm not great at telling people how I feel." You say before giving him a long, passionate kiss that had him melting under your touch. "D-Did you want to come in?" He stutters.

  "Yes, you being romantic really turned me on." You mumble and he rolls his eyes with a grin before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the car.

  · · ─────── · ·

  It was no surprise he had you on naked, on his bed in the matter of minutes as soon as you entered his apartment.

  But when he unbuckles his belt, you sink to your knees and move his hands out of the way, doing it yourself and pulling his pants and boxers down in a rush.

  "Jeez, you're that hungry for it?" Jaemin teases but you ignore him as you stare at his cock once it springs free and hits stomach. It was pretty and veiny, the tip flushed from the blood rushing to it. "You're drooling." He says.

  "Shut the fuck up or I won't suck you off." You deadpan and he stops talking. You smirk as he lets out a small moan as soon as his tip enters your mouth.

  "Who's drooling now?" You challenge, looking up at his blissed face. "S-Shut up, I just haven't done this in a while..."

  You giggle and keep sinking down on his cock, your hands taking the space you couldn't fit in your throat without gagging. You start off slow, thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth and jerking the base of it off, Jaemin's soft groans spurring you on.

  His hand in your hair tightens when you remove your hands and try to deepthroat him, but your gag reflex stops you so you pull away. "Sorry, fuck... I also haven't done this in a while." You shyly admit while Jaemin strokes your hair to comfort you. "Baby, you're doing amazing. Don't stress, just do what you're comfortable with."

  Why couldn't every man act like him? You smile and take him in your mouth again, but this time his cock slips past your gag reflex and you cheer internally. "Ah, fuck. Good girl," Jaemin praises and you whimper around his shaft, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

  "Mhmm, just like that." Jaemin moans, hand in your hair getting tighter as you take him in your mouth deeply. You started playing with his balls, and that was when his moans started getting breathier.

  You could feel him twitch, but as you were getting ready to swallow his cum, he pulls you off of him. You pant, catching your breath as he wipes the spit and drool off of your face. "Wanna cum somewhere else."

  Jaemin helps you up off your knees and lays you down on his bed. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

  Embarrassment blooms through you, looking away. “Don’t hide from me.” Jaemin’s hand moves your head to face him.

  He then pulls away and looks through his bedside table. “Shit, I don’t have any condoms…” He mutters. “It’s okay.. I’m clean and on birth control.”

  He hesitates. “When was the last time you got tested?”

  “Six months ago. But I haven’t fucked anyone since.” You answer. “You?”

  “Last week. I’m clean too.” He smiles sheepishly and you chuckle. “It feels better raw, anyway.”

  Jaemin’s face flushes but he closes his drawer and positions himself between your legs anyway. “You sure?” He asks one more time.

  “Yes, Jaem. Fuck me already.” You groan, sexual frustration washing over you when you have a hot, naked man who is interested in you right in front of you.

  He finally sinks his tip inside of your entrance, his cock going inside bit by bit until he finally bottoms out. You both moan together in relief.

  “You can move.” You reassure, your hands on his shoulder as he hovers above you before thrusting once or twice, experimenting.

  He wasn’t huge so you didn’t feel any pain. You weren’t sure if it was just because it’s attached to him, but his dick felt good.

  His thrusts started to speed up, his hands holding your hips tightly as your hands scratched down his back.

  “Ah- Ah, god,” You whimper as he hits the spot that made you feel stars in only a matter of minutes. “Jaemin…” His name leaves your lips drawn out and whiny, just how he likes it.

  “Will you be my boyfriend?” It comes out of your mouth without you realising until Jaemin stills his hips, his dick twitching inside of you. He laughs in disbelief.

  “You ask me that while I’m balls deep inside of you?” He teases and you hide your face with your arms, embarrassed.

  “Look at me, Y/N.” He orders and you listen. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

  He pulls you up for a kiss, this time it was filled with something you couldn’t point out but it felt amazing. Then, he snaps his hips up inside of you and goes back to his pace he had before. “Fuck!”

  “Baby, you’re gonna drive me crazy… Swallowing my dick so tightly, like I was made for your pussy.” Jaemin rambles, too lost in the pleasure to care if he sounded insane, but you ate up every word he said to you like it was your last meal.

  “I’m close.” He whispers, his thrusts getting faster and he snakes a hand to your clit, trying to get you over the edge too. “Come with me?”

  “Y-Yeah,” You slur, his relentless pace making you dumb. You felt his dick twitch inside of you before he pulled out, jerking himself off while rubbing at your clit.

  You came at the sight of him alone — all sweaty, moaning and fucked out for you. Your body convulsed and you felt his warm cum on your stomach before he collapsed beside you, pulling you into an embrace.

  You gave yourselves a few minutes to come back to Earth. “Let’s get cleaned up…” Jaemin mutters, helping you to his bathroom.

  · · ─────── · ·

  You and Jaemin had been dating for a month now, and you basically became his cats’ mother. You were over at his apartment any time he wasn’t busy with college or work. You fucked like rabbits too.

  You’d suck him off when he’s trying to write his papers, he’d eat you out when you were chilling on your phone. You made love almost every night… You were content.

  After not dating anyone for almost four years, Jaemin coming into your life was the best thing that could have happened to you, and you couldn’t help but thank Luna for coming to your apartment building that day when she escaped Jaemin’s.

  “Hey baby, you finished?” Jaemin knocks on the doorframe to get your attention. “Almost, give me a second.”

  You type the last sentence onto your laptop, closing it with a smile. “Finished!” You exclaim.

  “Finally, I’ve been waiting all day to touch you.” Jaemin groans. You giggle as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom.

  “Well now you have all night.”