tacosandbitch

Blind Items have been talking about these two rockstars in indirect musings for some time, with uncorroborated sources claiming they’re ‘exes’ out for vengeance’, while others note that they ‘got into a fight at a throwback-themed party thrown by renowned DJ pair Mark Lee and Johnny Suh last Spring.’ 

Regardless of history, one thing is certain: these two have sparks that just can’t be contained, and with them both headlining this year's Music Awards, it’s sure to be a spectacle.  

One:

With the Music Awards quickly approaching and a tour on the horizon, your life has become a series of press conferences and interviews. 

Being an artist has never been about saying the right thing to news anchors and TMZ representatives; no, to you, being an artist is about two things: the music and the fans. You’re aware that PR is part of your job, but you refuse to be anything other than authentic, and - to even your label’s surprise - the ‘genuine approach’ has actually bolstered your success. 

You’re at the Vice headquarters today, answering questions for a piece that a new writer is drafting for next month's edition, and you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t beginning to feel monotonous. 

Two Starbucks drinks in, and you’re getting restless, your knee is bobbing as you do your best to go through every question with the right level of genuine thought. 

You’re asked about how you and your team choose which cities for your tour, and that’s when you notice someone out of the corner of your eye.

Your skin tingles with even more annoyance, heat flushing through your body, and as you take a second to look like you're considering your answer, your gaze shifts to Lee Donghyuck, who’s standing by the refreshment table off camera. 

His eyes lock with yours, and he smirks over the rim of his cup.

Taking a breath, you try to focus on the interview, but it’s nearly impossible to be professional with Hyuck in the same room.

He’s the most judgmental little shit of a human that you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, and the last time he released an album, you and a few of your friends had conducted an ‘anti-success’ tarot reading in the hopes that he would crash and burn.

It’s hard to be in the same industry and circles as a person you’ve come to hate, and even more difficult to finish the interview, but as the questions come to an end, you’re more than happy to jump up and try to escape.

“Hiya, Wolfie,” he calls, making you groan with annoyance immediately.

“What do you want?” you snap.

“Noticed you were struggling a bit near the end there,” Hyuck grins.

“Yeah, well…” you scour your mind for a comeback, but you’re just too exhausted, “fuck you.”

The rockstar lets out a laugh. “Fuck you? Is that the best you could come up with?”

“I don’t have time for losers today,” you brush it off.

“Well, we’re both headliners at the Music Awards, so if I’m a loser, what are you?” 

“Just the best female rock artist,” you retort.

“Nominee,” Hyuck corrects. “The best female rock artist nominee. And again, I’m the best male rock artist nominee, so… seems we’re equals, Wolfie.”

“Why are you even here?” you scowl.

“Hmm, why would I be at Vice right now?” Hyuck pretends to think on it, raising one black chipped fingernail to his chin. “Oh, right, maybe because I also have an interview? It’s not rocket science, you know.”

“No, I mean, why are you here watching me like some creep?”

Hyuck shrugs. “I like to see you squirm.”

You scoff. “I was not squirming.”

“Okay, little miss, ‘can’t stop shaking my knee.’” 

“At least I’m not little mister, ‘clearly hungover on a work day.’”

“Sex, drugs, rock and roll… alcohol, more sex, more drugs,” Hyuck’s grin widens. “I thought we were both on the same wavelength with that, but I guess one of us is a pretender.”

“Fuck you.”

He lifts his cup mockingly. “Fuck you, too, Wolfie.”

Two:

In an exclusive video acquired by TMZ, we can see the tension between rockstars Lee Donghyuck and Wolfie Muse heating up already. While at a Vice interview, the pair were caught exchanging heated words behind the scenes.

This altercation raises questions that have been on the minds of fans, haters, and journalists since the meteoric rise to fame both rock stars enjoyed earlier this year. Like a WWE feud crafted by a creative team, this fiery duo is sure to bring even more eyes to the Music Awards happening this month. Now the question is: is the animosity between these two real, or is it all a PR setup known only to a select few, in hopes of spurring more fans, more media coverage, and more attention? 

Three:

Rehearsals for something like the Music Awards are never fun, especially as a performer and an MC. You have dual duties, and what feels like ten times the stress, which isn’t made any easier by the fact that Hyuck is taking longer than his slotted time during prep.

He’ll be announcing Best Female Rock Artist, and he’s been paired up with Johnny Suh, a famous DJ. Suh is perhaps the only person in the world that Hyuck looks up to, and as you wait in the wings for the two of them to finish up their practice, you can see the joy radiating off the rockstar.

For a man who has a resting bitch face and an unparalleled mischievous streak, Hyuck turns quite boyish when he smiles and looks up at Suh. 

The sight of him simping over his Hyung is enough to make you laugh, hiding your mouth with a hand, but the amusement is quickly overshadowed by annoyance. Not only is Hyuck overdue on his time, but he’s also extremely cute when he smiles, and the realization makes your blood boil.  

Finally, a stage hand announces that the two of them really have to wrap things up, and a minute later, Hyuck is walking toward you in the wings of the stage.

“Took you long enough to read a cue card,” you say under your breath.

“Took you long enough to end up nominated for awards,” he retorts.

“Says you, we have the same career trajectory,” you snap back.

“Well,” Hyuck struggles for a response. “I’m the announcer for Best Female Rock Artist, and if your name comes up on the fucking card…”

“What? Finish your threat.” You grin. “Are you going to read the wrong name and be corrected like that time at the Oscars? I would actually love to see that.” 

“I guess it won’t matter, because you won’t win anyway,” Hyuck scoffs.

“Really? Who else would win?” You laugh, knowing he’s grasping at straws now. 

“Literally anyone else,” he spits back.

“Wow, so a drunk and delusional.” You shake your head at him. “I really don’t understand what anyone sees in you.”

Hyuck takes a step forward, and your heart leaps to your throat. “They see my handsome good looks, my sexy hair, my attractive smile-”

“Okay, Narcissus,” you blurt out, trying to put some distance between you and Hyuck by taking a step back, but the rockstar only follows you.

“Come on, Wolfie, you might hate me, but you’re not blind.” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk that makes your skin heat up.

You hate that he is good-looking, and you hate the fact that your body reacts to it, even though your mind is screaming at you to hate this man and everything he stands for. 

“You think I’m sexy, just admit it,” Hyuck says, his voice lowering.

“And you know I’m going to win that award,” you fire back once you can find your words.

Hyuck releases a sigh, stepping back. “Keep dreaming.”

Four:

Red carpets are a different monster.

You feel the weight of your makeup on your skin, and the heaviness of the ‘designer dress’ adorning your body. It’s tight in all the right places according to your stylist, but as it hugs your stomach and your ribs, cutting off some of your breathing, you think maybe it’s tight in all the wrong places. 

To make matters worse, red carpets are a shit show of yelling, flashing, demands, and the extreme pressure to act graceful and poised through all of the noise. 

You do your best to focus on each interview, each small touch and go, most of which are about your outfit, your performance tonight, or your tour.

Somehow, in the circus that is the Music Awards red carpet, you end up next to Hyuck as you both take short interviews, and your skin tingles at the proximity.

“So, I want to address the elephant in the room,” the interviewer grins, and you match the smile, listening hard for the question that is soon to follow. “This rakishly handsome man to your left, Lee Donghyuck, The Huckster. Everyone is dying to know the root of your rivalry.”

“Oh, uh,” you falter, swallowing back the words that are dying to come out of you.

You fight with yourself, wanting to be candid, but remembering your PR training. However… your manager had mentioned that no press is bad press, and a rivalry with Hyuck is something that’s been putting you in the headlines recently…

“Do you want my honest opinion?” you sigh.

“Yes, please,” the interviewer grins, smiling like a vulture.

“I think he’s a whiny little boy half the time, and he’s obsessed with himself, which, sure, it’s a nod to the old rockstars, the sex, drugs, rock and roll, the alcohol and smoking, but if we’re being honest, don’t we know better by now? Don’t we, as a collective, as a culture, know that the type of shit that was happening in the seventies, eighties, and nineties was not conducive to actual health? Sure, some of the best songs ever written were written under the influence of cocaine, ecstasy, alcohol, etcetera, but are any of Hyuck’s songs instant classics? I, personally, don’t think so. So it feels like a waste of drugs, and a risk to himself, to be doing all of that to emulate the rockstars of old, while being nowhere near their level of talent.”

The interviewer stares at you in shock, and you can see her processing your words.

You can’t believe all of that just came out of you.

“Tell us how you really feel,” the interviewer laughs, finally. “So it’s safe to say you’re not exes like the blind items claim.”

“Honestly,” you scoff, “some days, I think he wishes.”

Five:

“And the award for Best Female Rock Singer goes to…” Johnny and Hyuck open the folded envelope. 

“No fucking way,” Hyuck laughs under his breath, but the mic still picks it up.

“Wolfie Muse,” Hyuck and Johnny say together, and the entire arena roars with the reveal.

You feel numb even as your team stands to congratulate you. Part of you had known you’d win, but it still feels surreal, and everything is a blur as you make your way to the stage. You’re in such shock that you even accept a hug from both Johnny and Hyuck, although one feels more performative than the other. 

Both men stand respectfully behind you as you give your speech, and you’re overwhelmed with emotion as you bare your heart out for everyone. You’re practically shaking as Johnny and Hyuck walk you off the stage after your acceptance, and it’s not until you’re in the wings that the reality and ecstasy truly hit you.

“Congratulations,” Hyuck says, hanging back with you as Johnny scurries off to prepare for his set, which is happening during the middle of the show intermission.

“I-” You’re tongue-tied, staring down at your award. 

“You’re part of the closing event, which means you have time to go celebrate, if you want,” Hyuck muses, awkwardly patting you on the shoulder.

“Hyuck…” You swallow the lump in your throat, all your animosity toward him disappearing as it hits you that you’ve won your first major music award.

“Yeah, yeah, you deserved it,” he sighs, his own issues with you clearly evaporating into thin air.

Right now, you’re not Wolfie and Hyuck, the rockstar rivals; you’re just two people, one who won an award, and the other who is genuinely congratulating them for the achievement.

“I can’t even think,” you admit, running a hand through your hair. “Do you want to come have a drink with me in my trailer before I have to do prep for my show?” 

“I guess all the awards I was up for already went through, so I have the time, and I make it a rule to never turn down alcohol,” Hyuck smirks.

“Oh, right, congratulations on your Best Male Rock Singer award, too,” you blurt out. 

He shrugs. “I guess we both knew we’d be winners tonight.”

He’s so nonchalant, and it’s annoyingly sexy how full of himself he can be.

“Come have a drink before I change my mind,” you laugh, finally feeling grounded as your usual irritation for the man starts to slowly return.

Hyuck only chuckles, following you as you head through the backstage area to the VIP lot outside, where your trailer is.

“So… I got a bottle of Champagne in case I won this,” you explain as you enter the space that contains your hair and makeup station, a closet, and a bed in the back to nap on in case you get tired from working. 

“No vodka or whiskey?” Hyuck jokes, taking a seat on the couch area while you grab the bottle from the minifridge. 

“This is a champagne occasion,” you insist.

“But you do have vodka or whiskey?” he asks.

With a sigh, you point to a cupboard where you keep your liquid courage, and Hyuck grins as he stands up to saunter over to it.

“You’re going to make me drink my champagne alone?” you question, pouring yourself a glass.

“It’s your win, Wolfie,” Hyuck winks, flicking the cap off the bottle of vodka before lifting it to his lips. “Sex, drugs, rock and roll.”

You groan at his words, in disbelief that you actually invited this man into your trailer.

Hyuck takes a seat, and your eyes are drawn to the way his thighs look in his pinstripe pants. He’d gone for a more refined look this evening, but there are still touches of rockstar. You’re pretty sure someone dusted his face with a bit of glitter, and the chunky rings match the chipped nail polish that he always sports. 

A bit of his chest is showing with his unbuttoned white shirt, and you swallow a lump in your throat before downing your glass of champagne.

“Oh, so it’s that kind of party,” Hyuck grins, taking a large swig of the vodka. “And you were on my ass about being drunk while working.” 

“I’m not getting drunk,” you insist.

“So what’s made you so thirsty?”

You look over at him again, and you can see the mischief in Hyuck’s smile. He spreads his legs a little, and you have to fight the urge to gaze down at his thighs again.

“Fine, don’t answer, I know you’ve been high-strung today,” Hyuck sighs, turning away and nursing the bottle of vodka.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“That interview you gave earlier, you know, the one where you said I do a bunch of drugs and act like an idiot, but I don’t actually make any good music.”

Your heart lurches to your throat. “I didn’t know you heard all of that.”

“I was standing three feet away,” he scoffs. “It’s fine, I don’t think that highly of you either.”

“Oh?” You quirk a brow. “And tell me, what have I done to you?” 

“You’re a faker. You make money trying to be this sexy rock and roll goddess, but it’s a costume you put on for show, and then take off. I bet you go to sleep early, have a cup of tea, hang out with your cat, that type of bullshit. You are monopolizing on a lifestyle and aesthetic that you don’t actually embody.” 

Your words catch in your throat.

“Oh, and I bet you’re celibate,” Hyuck throws in for good measure, flashing you a grin before taking another sip of vodka.

“I am not celibate!” you insist.

“Yeah? Prove it.” Hyuck licks his lips, sitting up on the couch to stare at you.

You scoff loudly, rolling your eyes, but when your gaze returns to your rockstar rival, you realize he’s dead serious.

“Wait, you’re propositioning me?” you ask in shock.

“Kind of been wanting to fuck some sense into you for a while.”

“Fuck some sense into me?” You can’t contain yourself anymore. “I’d like to see you fucking try!” 

“Fucking finally,” Hyuck groans. He sets the bottle of vodka on the floor and stands up abruptly, grabbing you by the hips and tugging you to his chest. You let out a squeak in shock, having not expected him to actually do this, but when his lips smash against your own, your mind goes blank.

The glass you’d been holding in your hand slips from your fingers, and you hear it shatter against the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, kissing him passionately, fighting with his tongue for dominance.

Hyuck groans, one of his own hands slipping down to your ass, where he gropes you through your dress. A moan escapes you, and the rockstar grins slightly, leaning down to get a grip on you so he can lift you up.

Your legs wrap around his hips, and he carries you toward the small hallway that leads to the back bedroom. He pushes you against a wall there, and you bite on his lower lip as a warning, but he only grins into the kiss, the roughness continuing.

You hate that you enjoy the manhandling, the way he’s dominating you, but you won’t take it lying down, and you thread your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly to earn yourself a deep moan that goes straight to your core.

Hyuck moves his mouth down to your throat, and he licks your sweet spot. You release your own moan of pleasure, panting in his ear as he begins to suck on your skin.

“You better not mark me,” you gasp when you feel his teeth drag against your neck.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps back.

You tug on his hair, forcing his mouth away from your throat, and you begin to attack his own neck, licking and sucking, earning all sorts of sinful sounds from the man who has you pressed against the wall.

“Fuck,” Hyuck says, his voice shaky, his fingers digging into your skin where he’s holding you up.

He tightens his grip on you, then walks you toward the room at the end of your trailer. The blinds are all closed, but there’s a red light on the wall, and it creates a sinful ambiance as he tosses you onto the bed.

“So how hard is it going to be to get you out of that dress?” he asks as he begins to remove his clothes.

“Depends, are you man enough for a challenge?” you retort.

Hyuck scoffs, shaking his head at you. “I swear to god, I will tear that dress off of your fucking body.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ve gotta stop challenging me,” Hyuck sighs, ripping off his shirt to expose a thin but built form that’s covered in tattoos. “Don’t you know? I hate to lose.”

He’s on top of you in an instant, lips hot against yours as his hands grab the front of your dress. It’s only when he begins to rip it apart that you realize he wasn't playing around. Hyuck truly doesn’t care that this is a designer garment, he doesn’t care about anything other than getting you naked, and it makes your core pulse with desire.

“You’ll have to pay for this dress,” you tell him between kisses.

Hyuck chuckles. “A rockstar wouldn’t care about ripped clothes.”

“A man would just say yes and be done with it,” you snap back.

He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you back roughly so you have to stare up at him. His voice is low when he says, “I like you best when you don’t talk.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you,” you grin.

Hyuck shakes his head, letting out a sigh of annoyance, and then he slams his lips to yours again, pushing your ripped up dress off your body so one of his hands can grasp your now exposed breast.

You groan desperately, loving the way he’s immediately rough with you, pinching the sensitive bud between two fingers.

“I always knew you’d like to be dominated,” he says smugly, his lips moving to your throat where his teeth graze your skin again.

“Fuck off,” you snap, but another whimper escapes you when he twists your nipple.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

A powerful surge of adrenaline runs through you, and you push him off of you, leaving the rockstar blinking in confusion.

You tear off what’s left of your outfit, leaving only your high heels, and then, you grab his pants, tugging them down with rough hands. 

“Oh, shit,” Hyuck laughs. “Didn’t realize you wanted to suck me off so bad.”

You roll your eyes at him, of course Hyuck thinks you want to give him head, but this isn’t about to be a one way street.

“I make it a habit to never eat alone,” you tell him, standing up straight and looking down at his naked body.

His cock is thick, it’s not the longest you’ve ever seen, but you begin to salivate as you think of the stretch the girth will give you.

“So… we sixty-nineing or what?” Hyuck grins, laying back against the pillow like the cat who ate the canary.

You roll your eyes at how much tact he lacks, but you climb onto the bed anyways, core practically dripping with anticipation.

He helps you adjust over him, and you stare down at his cock, feeling his breath on your wet pussy.

You can’t believe you’re about to do this, but you don’t take the time to think about it, because Hyuck’s hands pull you down to his mouth.

He clearly doesn’t have a care in the world that you’re ‘rivals,’ and as he fully dives into eating your pussy, you throw all inhibitions away as well.

Grabbing the base of his cock, you sink your mouth down on him, not caring to tease. If he’s not going to beat around the bush, neither will you, and from the way he’s sucking on your clit, you think he’s trying to see which one of you can make the other cum first.

It’s a wordless challenge, and it drives you to take as much of him into your mouth as you can. The tip of his girthy cock hits the back of your throat, and your gag reflex kicks in, but you clench your eyes shut and will it away.

Hyuck groans desperately, slurping and sucking your pussy while the vibrations run through you. You can feel your thighs shaking slightly, and Hyuck adjusts his grip on them, warm palms massaging your muscles.

For a moment, you can forget that this is Hyuck, and you can just focus on the fact that he’s eating you out better than anyone else ever has.

You grind down against his mouth, and Hyuck flattens his tongue to allow you to ride his face. 

He’s being shockingly good for you… and this is a man who - by all accounts - has made it seem like he’s more dominant. However, you get the sense maybe he’s more versatile than he lets on, and the thought excites you. 

You repeatedly push your mouth down on his cock, your eyes watering as you fight your gag reflex, and Hyuck moans wildly, his hips buckling slightly. 

You can feel your orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and it spurs you on as you suck Hyuck stupid, wanting him to be the one who breaks first. 

His lips wrap around your clit, and he holds you still, forcing you to take everything he’s giving you.

You can no longer hold in your moans, and you pull off of his cock, wrapping your fist around it so you can stroke him off while you press your face to his thigh, whimpering like a whore.

Hyuck grins a little, but he doesn’t stop his motions, and soon, your entire body is teetering on the edge. 

You try to hold it off, but you can’t help the orgasm that washes over you, enveloping your form with pleasurable shivers.

The high is overwhelming, and you’ve never felt more alive as Hyuck eats you through your orgasm, his mouth still moving like a man who is ravaged by hunger.

But soon, it becomes too much, and you lift off of his face, whimpering and shaking.

Hyuck pushes you off of him, and you land on the bed as he sits up. “I could eat that pretty pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Wolfie,” he muses. “Now are you ready to take my cock, or what?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I thought we agreed to keep the talking to a minimum.”

“No, I said I like it better when you don’t talk, we never agreed I would shut up,” he laughs, adjusting you on the bed before getting on top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, and you stare up at the beautifully infuriating man. “Don’t be two pump chump.”

Hyuck laughs even harder, then he leans over you, his lips ghosting your ear, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Two of his fingers slide into your mouth rather suddenly, and his other hand guides the head of his cock toward your core. 

You’re so soaked that it’s easy for him to push into you, and you groan at the stretch, sucking his fingers diligently.

“So this is the way I can shut you up, huh?” Hyuck groans when he’s fully inside of you. “Give you something to suck on and you turn into a complete sub.” 

You open your eyes and glare at him, teasing your teeth against his knuckles.

“I know you liked sucking my cock,” Hyuck continues. “Don’t try to deny it. And I also know that you’re about to love this.” 

With one slight adjustment to anchor himself, Hyuck begins to rut into you, and your eyes roll back into your head from the sensation.

He’s just so thick, and you can feel him stretching you out with every motion. Your core is still sensitive from your orgasm, and it makes your toes curl as he fucks into you, finding a pace that works for you both.

You moan around his fingers, fully immersed once again. 

His sounds aren’t something you’re averse to either, and there’s something sexy about the slight whining tone he makes between gasps and grunts.

Hyuck pulls his fingers out of your mouth to smash his lips against yours, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning desperately as he fucks you stupid.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and you kind of love the wet sounds coming from between your legs, the skin on skin, the heat and sweat. 

His teeth tease your lower lip and you groan, tugging on his hair.

It seems you both have a thing for pain, and Hyuck’s pace quickens, the head of his cock hitting a deep spot inside of you that has your toes curling.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, pulling out of you abruptly. He flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and lifting you into doggy style before slamming into you again.

You mewl against the sheets, pressing your cheek firmly to the mattress as you grab for something to steady yourself. His hands are on your hips, tugging you back toward him to meet every thrust as he ravishes you in the best possible way.

“Fuck, pussy tastes amazing, but it feels like fucking magic,” he groans. 

Your core flutters around him, and you love the dirty praise, which is something he clearly knows, because his thrusts falter slightly.

“I knew you liked dirty talk like this shit,” Hyuck laughs. “Knew you’d like listening to your rival come undone as he fucks you stupid.”

For once, you have no response, and you can only moan, pushing your hips back toward him, desperate for more. 

“Fuck, keep doing that, keep fucking twerking on my fucking cock,” Hyuck grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. “And rub your clit too, I wanna feel you cum this time.”

You shove your hand under your body, two fingers finding the sensitive bud. Your core tightens around him again, and you both moan from the sensation.

“Just like that, fuck,” Hyuck groans, and his words make your entire body tingle.

You let your sounds escape you uncensored as he fucks you toward another high, and the rubbing of your clit has all of your muscles tensing in anticipation.

Then, he grabs your hair, tugging your head back so your body is arched in an odd shape. “Don’t hold back,” Hyuck warns, and from the angle of your throat, your sounds are much more guttural now, but there’s something so sexy about the animalistic way in which he’s fucking you.

“Keep going, keep rubbing that pretty pussy,” he instructs, and you give in to him being the dominant now.

You give in to Hyuck, and it actually feels amazing.

Each rough thrust has you closer and closer to the edge, and soon, your entire body is tensed with anticipation.

“That’s it, cum for me, cum on my fucking cock,” Hyuck groans, and without any more prompting needed, you let go.

Your orgasm slams through you, your pussy clamping down hard on Hyuck, who lets out a desperate moan.

Then he’s pushing you down flat, his body collapsing on your back as he shallowly fucks you, his cock throbbing in your own pulsating hole.

The warmth of his cum fills you, and the way he’s panting against your shoulders has your body tingling with sensitivity. 

The two of you are gasping, and you can feel his heart racing against your back as you both try to steady yourselves.

A few minutes pass, and then Hyuck groans. “I probably should have asked you about birth control and STD’s and shit.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. “Did you just give me something?!”

“No, I’m clean, are you?”

“Fuck off,” you groan, pushing yourself up so he has to roll off of your back while you grab some tissues to deal with the cum that’s starting to drip off of you.

“So we’re both clean, good,” Hyuck laughs, but then his demeanor gets more serious. “This doesn’t change anything, by the way.” 

“Yeah, in your dreams this changes anything,” you snap back. 

“In your dreams!” 

And the irritation is back.

You shake your head, going to the small bathroom to clean yourself up. You grab some clothes, checking your phone for the time. “Fuck, my team will be here soon to prep me for my show.”

“Wouldn’t want to hold little miss Best Female Rock Artist back,” Hyuck chuckles, pulling on his jeans.

“Yeah, get the fuck out of my trailer.”

“You’d have to beg me on your knees if you wanted me to stay.”

You roll your eyes. “Again, I don’t want you here.”

“Sure you don’t.” Hyuck grabs you by your hips, pulling you in for one last heated kiss, and when he pulls away, he’s grinning. “All bark and no bite.”

You can’t with him, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Hyuck winks as he heads toward the exit door of your trailer. “And again, this doesn’t change anything.”

You wonder if he’s trying to convince you or himself, but you don’t dwell on it. You have a job to do, and you’d never let a man - let alone a man like Hyuck - get in the way of your work. 

This is something to deal with another time, and you’ll cross that bridge then. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! love some rockstar au!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  Hyuck always seemed like a wild card to you, so it’s a shock that he actually has a calming effect when you’re around him, and you melt into the feeling of relaxation, the feeling that everything will be okay.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, mentions of roleplay, alcohol, grinding, groping, foreplay, oral (f/m receiving), dick sucking, deep throating, pussy eating, overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, mutual orgasms, dirty talk, praise, thick cock Hyuck, etc…   I petnames. (hers) Wolfie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 115

🌙 starring. Haechan x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been over a year since the now infamous onstage moment at the Music Awards, wherein ‘The Hyuckster’ had to present his rival, Wolfie Muse, with the distinction of Best Female Rock Artist. And what a year it has been.

Blind items about this pair of rock stars have been popping up left, right, and center. But blind items are just gossip, and as a journalist who did attend university for a degree on the subject, I don’t deal in word of mouth. The picture below depicts one Mister Lee Donghyuck, leaving a hotel in Madrid, and whose hotel you may ask? Well, Wolfie Muse’s hotel, where she stayed after doing a concert two days ago.

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“It’s a blood smear. We’re supposed to do this in pairs. And you’re my pair, by the way,” you deadpanned, grabbing your friend’s arm as he whined when you pricked his finger for some blood. You carefully placed the small drop of Joshua’s blood into the glass slide, grabbed the second slide and placed it at a 45-degree angle before your phone buzzed again, causing you to lose your focus and fail to do your task once more.

Taking a deep breath, you tried not to crash out and scream as you grabbed your phone, unlocked it, and checked your messages from the unknown number.

???: Cheol.

???: Cheol, check this out.

???: [sent 1 attachment]

???: I got sushi from that one place just outside campus. I was thinking we could go.

???: Cheooooooooooooooool

???: dude, stop ignoring me 😐

You: I’m not Cheol, and you have the wrong number.

???: There’s no way you’re not Cheol. This is literally the number he gave me.

You: You must’ve saved the wrong number then. Please stop texting me.

???: Why?

You: Uhhh, because I’m not your friend?

???: I mean, we could be :)) 

You snorted at the logic the stranger you were texting was showing. Glancing around, you continued to text the unknown number while your PI was busy with other undergrads.

You: How?

You: For all you know, I could be a 64-year-old creep.

???: You see, you wouldn’t be saying that if you were actually that old.

???: Plus, no old man would be able to text as quickly as you do.

You: Fair enough.

You: Still, you don’t know me, and you shouldn’t really be spamming a random person’s number.

???: I thought you were my friend, so 🤷

???: Anyway, new friend!

???: What are you up to?

You: I’m in a lab right now, actually.

???: As in you’re a scientist?

You: Undergrad in the Biology department.

You: How about you?

???: Now, now… It won’t be fun if I reveal everything about myself now, will it?

You: You’re so strange.

You: I’m gonna block you now. Nice meeting you, stranger.

???: WAIT WAIT

???: I’m a journalism major. I’m assuming we’re from the same uni?

You: Why would you assume that?

???: Idk, hunch.

You: Okay… I need to go. I don’t want to get in trouble with my PI.

???: Does that mean you won’t block me?

You: I’ll think about it.

You turned off your phone, shaking your head as you grabbed Joshua’s arm again. “One more time.”

“You pricked my finger in the same spot like four times! How consistent can you be?!” Joshua complained as he held his “tortured” finger, as he called it, after you had pricked him four more times during lab. The two of you were walking from the lab towards the exit of the Biology department building to grab lunch at your usual hangout spot, which was the campus cafeteria.

As you shrugged, you shook your head at your best friend and his antics. Your thoughts were too preoccupied with the stranger whom you had texted earlier, wondering what they were up to at the current moment. Deciding to pull out your phone, you checked if they had texted you, but there was nothing.

“Waiting for prince charming to message you?” Joshua peered over your shoulder, which he immediately regretted when you elbowed him.

“I don’t even know if he’s a guy or not.” You rolled your eyes as you pocketed your phone, walking ahead as your friend followed. 

Joshua grabbed your phone from your pocket with ease, unlocked it, and checked your messages. “Totally a guy. No girl would message like this.”

“How do you know?” You muttered as you snatched your phone back from your best friend, smacking him gently as you looked through the messages again. He was right. A girl would typically not text like this, and it was just pretty obvious that a guy was texting you, but you didn’t want to assume.

The two of you continued to banter until you got to the cafeteria to meet up with Wonwoo, who had to leave earlier because of a student council meeting. Once all of you had your food, you sat down by the windows and placed your trays on the table. That’s when your phone buzzed, prompting you to check, only to get disappointed when it was an email from your professor about your data analysis report for Statistics.

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow at Joshua, who just shrugged with a fond smile before digging into his food. You noticed the glance your four-eyed friend was giving you and gave up on staying quiet.

“A random number kept texting me these past three days,” you grumbled, taking a bite out of your food. Chewing and swallowing, you continued, “And I just replied to them today during lab.”

Wonwoo raised his brows, intrigued by your situation before speaking. “So… You just ignored them for three days straight?”

“...yes?” You sounded uncertain as Wonwoo hummed, thinking before shaking his head. “What? You thought of something, tell me!”

“No, nothing. I just thought it was strange that you’d ignore them rather than just block them.” He shrugged, and you blinked at his words, realising what he meant.

Right. You usually did block random numbers, but that was when they called! And this guy did not call, so you didn’t feel obligated to block him. Plus, you were pretty curious about the mysterious texter who wanted to “befriend” you.

“Do we know any journalism majors?” You suddenly blurted out, causing Joshua to look at you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Uh, Seungcheol is a journalism major with his friend—what was his name…” he muttered, trying to recall the name of Seungcheol’s friend. “I don’t remember his name, but why?”

You shook your head, trying to dismiss Joshua’s growing suspicions. “Nothing, nothing… It’s just that he said we might be from the same uni.”

Joshua groaned at that, and you knew what that sound meant. You chuckled awkwardly, knowing it was probably a bad idea to meet up with this person without getting to know them first, but hey, at least you were trying to socialise, right?

“You are not going to meet him! What if he’s some serial killer?” You rolled your eyes at your friend’s tendency to exaggerate everything, but Wonwoo seemed to agree with him. A sigh left your lips before raising your hands, as if to say you were forfeiting the idea. For now.

“You should get to know this guy first before meeting him. Stranger danger and all,” Wonwoo murmured while cutting his pork katsu into bite-sized pieces. “We don’t want you to get into unnecessary danger.”

Your eyes softened at your friend, understanding that they were only looking out for you. Taking another bite of your food, your phone buzzed once more. Expecting another email, you unlocked your phone only to see that the unknown number sent you a picture.

???: [sent 1 attachment]

???: Lunch 😋

You: Huh.

???: What?

You: We are from the same uni, after all.

???: So, my hunch proves to be correct!

???: What are you up to?

You: I'm also in the campus cafeteria, with some friends.

???: OoOoh

You: ??

???: Nothing, nothing.

???: I'd say let's meet, but that's a little too early for that 😉

You: My friends and I were actually just talking about that.

You: Stranger danger, so… what's your name?

???: Wouldn't you like to know? What's yours?

You bit your lower lip as you looked up from your phone to check any students in the surrounding vicinity who were on their phones—almost everyone. A sigh left your lips before you typed out your name and hit send.

???: Cute name

???: I'm Jeonghan. At your humble service.

You: Jeonghan, huh? You know I could just search you up in the student files on the uni website, right?

Jeonghan: But what would be the fun in that, sweets?

You: ‘sweets’?

Jeonghan: You sound sweet, so sweets 🤷🏻

Jeonghan: Anyway, let's set up some rules!

You: For what???

Jeonghan: Since we're from the same uni and all, we're bound to bump into each other.

You: The journalism department and biology department are on opposite ends of campus.

Jeonghan: We could share classes, you never know, sweets.

Jeonghan: Anyways, rules! One, you're forbidden from searching me up on the school website and vice versa. It's more fun if we don't know what we look like for now.

Jeonghan: Two, no asking around people on campus if they know who we are. That'd be cheating. 

Jeonghan: Three, we update each other on our day-to-day to get to know each other better until we're ready to meet. And wanting to meet needs to be mutual, so if one doesn't want to, we can't meet.

You: So, you want this to be like a game?

Jeonghan: Kind of? It'll be fun :)

Jeonghan: So, what do you say, sweets?

You: What if I say no?

Jeonghan: Then I will never text you again, and we will go on with our lives as strangers.

Jeonghan: But I know you're interested, so please say yes.

You: Whatever, sure.

Jeonghan: Perfect. I knew I could count on you 😗

You: Don't ever send that emoji again, or I'm blocking you.

Jeonghan: Got it 🫡

“Having fun texting the stranger?” You almost jumped out of your seat when Joshua spoke up, prompting you to smack him.

“His name’s Jeonghan.” You glanced back at your screen to check if he had sent anything else, but there was just a gif with confetti. A soft snort left your mouth at that before you shook your head. “He's strange, but I'm only a human, and humans get curious.”

Joshua rolled his eyes, finishing his lunch as he stole a fry from your tray. “Just eat your food, you've been texting the guy for the past ten minutes. We have Statistics after this.”

A groan left your lips at that, disliking Statistics out of all of your lectures for the day. You'd rather have lab all day with your strict PI rather than Statistics with your notoriously annoying professor. You finished your lunch quickly and said goodbye to Wonwoo, who had a different lecture from you and Joshua.

“Who's got you smiling like that, dude?” Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan as the latter cleared his throat before pocketing his phone.

“No one, what are you talking about?” Jeonghan shoved a couple of fries into his mouth, pretending like he wasn't just giggling to himself like some moron after texting you. His best friend raised his eyebrows, unimpressed as he sighed.

“You were texting her, weren't you?” Seungcheol noted the way Jeonghan glanced away, neck and ears burning as he sighed. “Dude, I gave you her number so you could introduce yourself! Not that you could convince her you had the wrong number.”

“I did introduce myself, kind of…” Jeonghan muttered, looking back at Seungcheol with a pleading glance. “I made this whole thing—I'll get to know her through texting, and we'll meet each other once we're ready—”

“Or you could just stop complicating this for yourself and introduce yourself to her like a normal human being?” Seungcheol deadpanned, crossing his arms as Jeonghan groaned. Only if it were that simple.

Jeonghan didn't have the guts to approach you and talk to you as he usually would with other people. He wasn't sure why, but something was stopping him from acting like himself—maybe it was because he didn't want to give you the wrong first impression? He couldn't figure it out, but what he did want was to get to know you better, and this was one way to do it.

He was so surprised when Seungcheol mentioned that he knew you, having taken some classes together during freshman year. He was even more surprised when Seungcheol told him he had your number. That's what got him into the situation he was in—texting you without you knowing that he was just one person away.

“Seriously, Hannie… She'll like you. You're funny, and she's a simple soul, she's practical, and if you play your cards right, she might agree on a date.” Seungcheol looked at his best friend with a sympathetic smile, but Jeonghan was convinced his way was better.

And he'd go through with this plan until he was ready to actually reveal himself.

Statistics was as boring as ever, but you promised yourself you'd actually focus this semester. While writing down your notes in your notebook, you couldn't help but feel someone's gaze on you. You turned your head in the direction you could feel the gaze from, and met someone’s eyes before they hurriedly looked away. Strange.

That’s when you noticed the person he was sitting next to. Seungcheol.

You turned back to your notes, curious about the guy sitting next to the friend you had made during freshman year. They were both probably journalism majors, so maybe they knew Jeonghan. Not like you could ask—it was a part of the rules of the game your next textmate decided to make up.

When the lecture ended, you decided to walk up to Seungcheol and his friend, telling Joshua to go ahead, and that you’d catch up with him later. 

“Hey, Seungcheol…” You greeted awkwardly, not having seen him in quite some time due to your busy schedule. 

The man in front of you immediately perked up when you came up to him, greeting you back with a hug. “Hey, it’s been a while! This is my friend Jeonghan—augh…”

“He meant Jung Han. My name’s Han. Hi,” Jeonghan murmured after elbowing his friend in the rib before shaking your hand with a smile. You gave him a small one back, letting go of his hand after a beat.

“Nice to meet you, Han. I guess, uhm… I’ll see you guys around? I still have to head to the lab to check on my samples—”

“Hannie can walk you there! He has, uh, he has a class not too far from there, yeah.” Seungcheol nudged Jeonghan forward, making you blink at both of them. You weren’t really against the idea, and Jeonghan was quite the looker.

You decided and hummed, nodding. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

The two of them looked at each other, as if they were communicating with each other telepathically, before Jeonghan smiled at you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

The bold action caused you to snort and take his arm, telling yourself that you could get out of your comfort zone just this once.

“So, Han,” you started, and he hummed, looking down at you as the two of you walked arms linked with each other. “How’d you and Seungcheol meet each other?”

“Hmm, I think it was kindergarten. Why?” He asked back, and you just shrugged, seeming to be curious about the guy you were currently walking with. Jeonghan had this charm to him that you couldn’t place, but he seemed to be a little awkward, even when he was just walking with you.

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to ask questions you normally wouldn’t have. Jeonghan was just that type of guy you’d want to actually get to know for some reason. Usually, you wouldn’t even be this touchy with a person you just met, putting them at arm’s length, but he just made it a bit easier to open up to. 

So, you talked. Asked questions about him like the curious researcher you were, noting everything down mentally as you listened.

When you got in front of the Biology department building, you unlinked your arm from his before smiling. “This is me… Thanks for walking me here. You really didn’t have to.”

“Nah, it was my pleasure. It was fun talking to you, swee—I mean, uhh… yeah, fun talking to you.” He scratched the back of his ear, giving you an awkward chuckle. “See you around!” 

Jeonghan gave you a salute before he turned and hurriedly walked away. You faltered, wanting to call out for him to ask for his number, but he was already out of earshot. A soft sigh left your lips before you decided to head into the building to check on your precious samples in the lab with a giggle.

“Stop fucking giggling like an evil scientist,” Joshua muttered from behind you as he smacked you with his clipboard. You frowned, rubbing the back of your head as you glared at your best friend. “So, who was the guy you had your arms linked with~?” 

You rolled your eyes, knowing Joshua would want to know about what he saw. “Nothing, Seungcheol offered him to walk me, and I agreed.”

“Just like that? You? Agree for some guy to walk you all across campus?” He raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. “What’s the guy’s name?”

“Jung Han,” you murmured, and Joshua’s eyes widened.

“Jeonghan? Like the guy you’re texting?”

“No, no—Jung Han. Two separate people. His name’s Han.” You explained, and your best friend made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth before furrowing his brows and grumbling to himself. “What?”

“I was sure Seungcheol’s friend’s name was Jeonghan, though, but eh, I must’ve misheard.” Joshua tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue softly before dragging you into the lab room, where a few people were already conducting their research in their own workbenches. You didn’t linger on your friend’s words, focusing on the bacterial samples you had in the small lab refrigerator instead.

Twenty minutes into conducting research and writing your thesis, your phone buzzed, distracting you from your task as you glanced at the device before looking back at your laptop. You contemplated whether it was worth getting distracted, glancing around as Joshua seemed to be preoccupied with sending you random memes on Instagram. So, you decided to abandon writing your thesis to check whatever Joshua might’ve sent you before seeing a message from Jeonghan.

Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]

Jeonghan: The sunset’s pretty.

Jeonghan: Like you probably.

You: Are you flirting with me?

Jeonghan: uhhhhhhhhh

Jeonghan: If I am, would you let me?

You: I don’t know.

Jeonghan: wdym you don’t know? :( 

You: If you send me one more sunset pic, I’ll consider saying yes.

Jeonghan: [sent 7 attachments]

Jeonghan: Are these enough?

You stifled a giggle, covering your mouth before replying to his message. You found Jeonghan entertaining, so you indulged in whatever he was trying to do.

You: You’re weird, you know that?

Jeonghan: Yes, you’ve called me strange before, I know

You: [sent 1 attachment]

You: I’m in the lab conducting research right now.

You: Lowkey bored :// My best friend keeps sending me reels instead of helping me.

Jeonghan: That’s cute

Jeonghan: The Sanrio sticker on your laptop, I mean

Jeonghan: Who’s your fav character?

You: Cinnamoroll.

Jeonghan: Noted 😉

You: For what?

Jeonghan: That’s a surprise for the future, sweets.

You: What if I don’t like surprises? What then?

Jeonghan: Ehhh, I think that you do like surprises, you’re just trying to throw me off my game

Jeonghan: But that won’t work! Because I can foresee the future.

You: And that future is?

Jeonghan: You and me on a date :)

You: Right. I’m blocking you.

Jeonghan: NO— WAIT PLEASE

Jeonghan: I was too forward. I apologise.

Jeonghan: One more chance, I beg of you, sweets.

Jeonghan: No date. Unless you change your mind.

Jeonghan: Sweets?

You decided to leave him on read with that, wanting to cackle to yourself. Instead, you settled with a slightly off-putting giggle, prompting the people around you to send you side glances, which also happened to be your best friend. Joshua threw a pipette at you, hitting you square in the forehead, pulling you out of your weird state.

“Stop giggling to yourself like that, weirdo. You’re creeping me out.”

You flipped him off, grumbling to yourself as you dove back into your research with a soft smile on your lips when you glanced at the Cinnamoroll sticker on your laptop.

It was late when you got back home to your apartment, tiptoeing inside so as not to wake your roommate—Minghao—up. It had been a long day, and you were exhausted, so instead of scurrying to your bedroom, you crashed on the leather couch you and Hao had bought last year, deciding to invest in a good couch instead of keeping the old, ratty one that was provided by your landlord.

Your phone buzzed, surprising you. It was 1:04 AM. Why was he still up? You unlocked your device and pressed the notification.

Jeonghan: u still up?

You: Why are you up?

Jeonghan: Couldn't sleep 🤷🏻

Jeonghan: You?

You: Just got back from the lab.

You: I worked on my thesis and didn't realise it was late.

Jeonghan: Ahhhh, I see..

Jeonghan: Do you wanna play 20 questions?

You raised your eyebrow at that, sitting up and leaning against the backrest as you thought about it. Jeonghan was a complete stranger to you—but you just continued indulging him because he was interesting. You thought about the other Jeonghan—or Jung Han, as he insisted, but you couldn't really take it seriously. Probably coincidental that they had the same name.

You: What the hell, why not?

You: Who starts?

Jeonghan: You can :)

You: Were you serious about that date?

Jeonghan: Oho, straight to the hard questions, huh? I can't say I don't like it.

Jeonghan: Maybe… Why?

Jeonghan: U interested? 😉

You: Those two count as two separate questions, so I'll answer them and get two questions myself.

You: Nothing in particular, I was just wondering if you were serious or not, and no, I'm not interested. Not yet anyway.

You: What’s your favourite colour?

Jeonghan: 👀

Jeonghan: Woah, woah— backtrack, little lady

Jeonghan: wdym “not yet”??

You: I don't know you, so.

Jeonghan: Fair enough..

Jeonghan: Oh, and my favourite colour is black.

You: Hm.. why would you want to go out with me? You don't even know what I look like.

Jeonghan: Does it matter if I do?

Jeonghan: Don't count that as an actual question; it was rhetorical

Jeonghan: And to answer your question—why not? You're interesting, and I find texting you quite fun, even when you threaten to block me or text like a robot sometimes.

You: I do not text like a robot! 😡

Jeonghan: Sorry to break it to you, sweets, but you do, painfully so. But it's part of the charm that tugs me towards you 😉

You: Your turn.

Jeonghan: Right. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Jeonghan: Oh! What's your favourite movie?

You: I, uh… 27 dresses. And How to Lose a Man in 10 days. Both romcoms, yes.

Jeonghan: That's cute

Jeonghan: Will be sure to watch them and tell u what I think about them

You: What are your hobbies?

Jeonghan: Hmmm.. That’s a difficult question. But I like playing football (not the American one, I'm a little too unqualified for that), sleeping and taking care of my pet rock ^^

You: You have a pet rock?

Jeonghan: That's two questions, sweetheart, but yeah, I do.

Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]

Jeonghan: Its name is Doljjong :)

You: That's…

You: That’s cute.

Jeonghan: Thanks

Jeonghan: How about you? What are your hobbies?

You bit your lower lip at that, contemplating whether or not to share something so close to your heart with a stranger. Deciding not to linger on it, you typed out your answer.

You: I like to read.

Jeonghan: Just that?

You: And, uh, I guess I like to draw sometimes.

Jeonghan: Okay, okay, cool

Jeonghan: Can I ask a more personal question?

You: Uh, sure.

Jeonghan: Do you have a boyfriend?

You: No.

Jeonghan: Why not?

You: Too busy.

Jeonghan: Would you like to have one then?

You: Good night, Jeonghan.

Jeonghan: Worth a shot

Jeonghan: Night, sweets.

You sighed, chickening out before the questions got too intense, not wanting to reveal too much, too soon. Your cheeks couldn't help but warm at the incessant flirting from Jeonghan, unsure why he was so interested in your love life when he barely knew you.

“He's so weird…” You muttered to yourself as you lay back down on the couch.

“Who’s weird?” You shot back up when you heard Minghao’s voice, seeing him getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

You shook your head, dismissing his question with a wave of your hand. “Nothing, just muttering to myself.” 

That seemed to satisfy Minghao's fleeting curiosity as he padded back to his room, leaving you alone once more, your head hitting one of the throw pillows while you thought about your new contact and Jung Han.

“Seriously, you’ve been texting the guy for five days now, and you're thinking about meeting him already?”

Joshua shook his head, still disapproving of the idea of you meeting your phone pen pal. You had been texting Jeonghan for almost a week, and you enjoyed talking to him more often than you didn't. You found yourself liking his free personality, the way he seemed to just be himself through the phone, open with you as he shared little moments of his life without revealing too much. And you did the same; you gave him a piece of your peaceful life, sharing small stories about your experiences at the lab or just talking about your day-to-day, just like you agreed upon.

You found yourself truly befriending the guy who accidentally texted your number.

A groan left Joshua’s lips as he sighed. “Give it more time, get to know him better before you actually agree to something serious. I don't want you coming home crashing out because he wasn't the guy you expected him to be.” 

“What guy?” You suddenly hear a voice behind you, turning to see none other than Jeonghan Han. Your expression seemed to change when you saw him, your face a little brighter as he sat down beside you.

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just the guy I’ve been texting.” You shrugged as he rested his arm around the backrest of your chair before stealing a fry from your tray. 

You and Jeonghan had also been spending some time with each other, getting to know each other as you talked through Instagram DMs. He sent you funny memes and made sure to remind you to drink water. He was friendly and charming, but not in the same way as the Jeonghan you’ve been texting over the phone.

Jeonghan felt bad for lying to you like this, wanting to come clean, but he was in way too deep within his two personas he was showing—the strange charmer over the phone, aka the real him, and whatever this ‘Jung Han’ persona was. It was baffling how you couldn’t connect the dots. He shook it off as he glanced at you with the usual look he always sent your way—yearning and admiring. Even Joshua could notice it, your best friend clearing his throat and coughing.

“I’ll leave you two alone. I don’t feel like third-wheeling. See you during lab.” Joshua got up from his seat, giving the two of you a wave before leaving with his tray. Jeonghan chuckled awkwardly at that, while you just hummed and continued eating your food in soft silence.

“Tell me about that guy you’re texting.” Jeonghan suddenly blurted out, prompting you to pause and look at him. He seemed curious, his eyes darting around before looking back at you. 

“I… I mean, he’s nice. I like talking to him. He’s a little strange, but I guess that’s the part of his charm,” you murmured, smiling as you took a bite of your food, chewing and swallowing before continuing, “He’s asked me out about three times, but I turned him down since it’s only been five days. But we do have a few things in common.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan’s heart seemed to clench at how enthusiastically you talked about him to him, feeling jealous of his own self for knowing more about you and not being able to voice it out. It was ridiculous.

“I know I shouldn’t want to meet up with him, but I really want to. I want to see him and talk with him about all the things I talked about. Do you… Do you get what I mean?” You fidgeted with the napkin on your tray, glancing at Jeonghan as he nodded. You didn’t seem to notice how he tensed up, his jaw clenching before he relaxed.

Jeonghan then decided to tuck a few strands of hair away from your face, making you blink and flush when he leaned in. “You like him that much?” He sounded a bit hurt, eyes softening as he continued, “What about me?”

“Wh–what about you?” You mustered out, not moving away as his fingers found your shoulder, gently touching.

“Nothing, nevermind…” He chuckled, but it sounded strained as he moved back, ruffling your hair. “I have a lecture soon, pretty, I’ll see you later, okay?”

You faltered, confused as he got up and grabbed his bag, leaving you all alone at your table, your thoughts filled with nothing but his words. What about me?

Jeonghan wanted to scream into his pillow—well, Seungcheol’s pillow. He was currently in his best friend’s dorm at Beta Sigma Tau’s fraternity house. They were supposed to be writing an article about some topic Jeonghan had already forgotten, focused on his phone instead.

“You should just tell her, man. Stop being a wimp.” His best friend turned to Jeonghan as he sighed at his whining.

“I tried, Cheol… But something in me just flaked out, and I couldn’t bring myself to break it to her. What if she hates me for it?” He sat up, hugging the pillow as he checked your messages—both on Instagram and on his number. Nothing. He wondered if you had figured it out and decided to actually block him—

Ding!

Jeonghan immediately unlocked his phone to see that you had sent him a picture.

He almost fainted on the spot.

It was you in a pretty, baby blue sundress that ended at your mid-thigh, the sleeves puffy, making you look like a modern-day princess. Your face was covered by your phone, obviously not wanting to reveal it yet, even if he knew what you looked like, but this was the first time you’d sent anything remotely involving your looks.

You: Does this dress look okay?

Jeonghan: Yes.

You: Woah, that’s a serious response.

Jeonghan: Sorry, I was just so uh

Jeonghan: Surprised, ig?

Jeonghan: But you look very pretty, sweets

Jeonghan: Are... are you going on a date, mayhaps?

You: Maybe.

You: Jk, I’m not, I just wanted to know what you thought of the dress.

Jeonghan’s heart almost dropped when he saw that first message, before you followed it up with the second one. He didn’t realise he was holding in his breath as he let it out, making Seungcheol side-eye him, but he was too focused on texting you.

Jeonghan: I think the dress is lovely

Jeonghan: Will you wear it on our first date?

You: Maybe.

Jeonghan: You and your ‘maybe’s, just say yes or no, baby

You: Pffft

You: Ask me out again.

Jeonghan: Are you fr right now?

You: If you don’t do it in the next 10 seconds

Jeonghan: Sweets, sweetheart, will you go out on a date with me?

You: Yes.

Jeonghan got up from Seungcheol’s bed, startling his best friend as he re-read your answer before screaming, “SHE SAID YES—”

“What?” Seungcheol grimaced when Jeonghan’s voice cracked as the latter started jumping around like some madman.

“She said yes, dude, I’m going out on a date with her—fuck.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, already thinking of the plethora of things he wanted to do before coming up with a whole idea of where to bring you and whatnot.

This was going to be the perfect date.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You said yes. You said yes. To a date with Jeonghan, a stranger you just met five days ago. Usually, your instincts told you to run in the opposite direction, but this time, it was telling you not to run away. Like this was meant to happen.

The two of you had agreed that you’d see each other on Saturday, which was four days away, giving the two of you some time to prepare. Prepare for what exactly? You weren’t sure, but you definitely needed the time.

You were currently on your way home, listening to music as you managed to bump into Jeonghan. He seemed as surprised as you were; his face was slightly flushed as if he was in a rush. He murmured your name as you took your headset off.

“Hey—”

“Hi—”

The two of you said in unison as you paused and smiled with a soft giggle. Jeonghan scratched the back of his ear—something he did when he was nervous, as you noted a couple of days prior. 

You spoke up first, your expression full of wonder. “Where were you headed from?”

“Oh–uh, from Cheol’s place. We were supposed to do this one article, but I forgot the topic.” He chuckled, standing there as he put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I’m guessing you were going home from the lab?”

“Bingo.” You did finger guns, also pocketing your hands into your jacket. Your thoughts lingered on that moment you had in the cafeteria earlier that day, but you didn’t bother mentioning it.

Jeonghan seemed to hesitate, but spoke up after a beat, “Do you want to come over to my place?”

He blurted out, prompting you to pause. You checked your watch before looking at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’m running late. My roommate wants me to eat dinner with him and his friends. We’re having Chinese. Maybe next time, though?”

“Oh—uh, yeah, sure…” Jeonghan smiled, hiding his disappointment and understanding that you had prior plans. That’s when he remembered about the party that was going to be hosted at Seungcheol’s fraternity.

“Hey, wait,” he managed to grab your wrist before you could leave. “There’s a party at Cheol—I mean Seungcheol’s fraternity this Friday.”

You blinked at him, pursing your lips slightly before cracking a soft smile. “I’m not really the partying type, Han.”

“I–I know! But we don’t have to stay downstairs. I’m sure Seungcheol won’t mind if we stay in his room. We could play Uno, or something.” He rubbed his neck, looking at you hopefully. 

You thought about it for a second before sighing softly and nodding, “Yeah, I’ll go. Just don’t leave me alone there, alright? I’m sacrificing my precious Friday lab plans for this.” You joked as Jeonghan let go of your wrist, letting you leave as he found himself groaning when you were out of earshot.

You, on the other hand, were groaning for another reason. Not only were you sacrificing your precious time at the lab, but you were also juggling between two guys at this point! You felt guilty, but at the same time, it wouldn’t hurt to go, right? You were going there as his friend.

Shaking your head, you decided to stop thinking about it as you headed back to your apartment so you could eat with Minghao, Jun, and Soonyoung.

“I’m home!” You shouted from the front door as you slipped your shoes off, padding over to the kitchen to see Minghao cooking, while Jun and Soonyoung were trying to beat your record in Mario Kart in the living room. You could smell the aroma of the food Hao was cooking, going over to the stove before grabbing a spoon from one of the drawers and trying the soup. 

Your roommate smacked your hand before you could grab another bite of the meat. “It’s not done yet, you impatient—”

Soonyoung, who called your name from the couch, cut Minghao off from cursing you out, and you smiled innocently at him before heading over to where your roommate’s friend was. “I beat your record! Give me the crown!”

“Oh yeah? Watch me beat your record—” You were about to grab the console from him when your phone buzzed. It was Jeonghan. An involuntary smile formed on your lips as you sat down on the armchair, not too far from the couch, before unlocking your phone. Soonyoung looked at Minghao, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]

Jeonghan: I miss you, sweets

You: Are you in the bath, Jeonghan?

Jeonghan: Uhhhhhh

Jeonghan: Yes?

You: I—Okay…

You: Also, you can’t miss me.

Jeonghan: Why not?

You: We haven’t met yet?

Jeonghan: I can miss my future girl, yk

You: Bold of you to assume I’ll be your future girl.

Jeonghan: You already agreed to go out with me.

Jeonghan: No take-backsies

You: Yeah, yeah. I know.

You: Have you planned out the date or…?

Jeonghan: Ofc I have, sweetheart

Jeonghan: Don’t worry your pretty little head abt it

You: If you say so.

You: I trust you.

You then contemplated whether or not to tell him about the party he Han invited you to. Shrugging, you decided to tell him, not thinking much of it. 

You: Also… There’s this party I’m going to.

Jeonghan: Oh?

Jeonghan: My sweet geek is going to a party?

You: I am, yes. Surprising.

You: A friend invited me, so.

You: Would you like to come?

Three dots appeared and disappeared as Jeonghan typed, making you feel anxious. Was it a good idea to invite him when you were supposed to hang out with the person who invited you? You shook your head, focusing when Jeonghan finally replied to your message.

Jeonghan: Sorry, sweets, but I’ll be busy this Friday ://

Jeonghan: As much as I wanna meet you faster, I’d rather see you during our date, having fun instead of getting wasted

You: Valid point.

Jeonghan: I do hope you have fun with your friend though :))

You: I mean… we’re probably going to his friend’s room and play Uno or something since I’m not a party person.

Jeonghan: So your friend is a him. 

Jeonghan: Cool.

You: Jeonghan, it’s not like that.

Jeonghan: 🙁

You: Jeonghan, you can’t be serious.

Jeonghan: MY FUTURE GIRL IS ALREADY CHEATING ON ME 🙁

You: I AM NOT.

Jeonghan: Gotcha

Jeonghan: You agreed that you’re my future girl 😍

You: I’m literally gonna block you.

Jeonghan: No you won’t <3

You sighed and shook your head, unable to stop yourself from smiling as Soonyoung gently nudged you with his foot. “Yah, why are you smiling like that? It’s creeping me out—Hao, why is she smiling like that?”

“She’s got a boyfriend.” Minghao rolled his eyes as you glared at your roommate. “Tell me I'm wrong.”

“He's not my boyfriend!” You argued, huffing softly as your roommate scoffed out a laugh.

“Right, and you don’t text him almost every day when you have free time.” He deadpanned, causing you to groan and threaten to throw a pillow at him before he sent you a glare back. “Plus, you bought that new dress when we went out, which means that you’re probably going to meet him soon—I’m presuming Saturday?”

“I—” You sputtered before clenching your jaw, kind of expecting this from Minghao. He just knew things, forces of the universe or whatever. Before you could even linger on the fact that he knew about your date, Soonyoung and Jun were tackling each other over the last pocky stick.

When dinner was ready and served on the table, the four of you dug in, but not before you took a picture of it and sent it to Jeonghan Han’s DMs.

You: [yourusername sent a photo]

You: Dinner with the goofs :)) 

Hannie 🩷: Have a good dinner, pretty :) 

You: thank you, Hannie :3

You: Have you had dinner yet?

Hannie 🩷: Yeah, I just got out of the shower and made some ramyeon

You: I’d say you should have more than just convenience store ramyeon, but we are broke college students.

Hannie 🩷: Exactly, pretty

You: What time should I come to the frat house?

Hannie 🩷: Oh! I’ll just pick you up from your place, if that’s okay with u

You: Yeah, I don’t mind :)) 

Hannie 🩷: Perfect :)) I’ll pick you up at 8, since the party starts at 9

You: Alright, I've got to go, my roommate is glaring at me.

You turned off your phone before you could see Jeonghan’s reply, and avoided eye contact with Minghao before he spoke up again. “Who did you send the picture to?”

“Han from Journalism…” You grumbled, and your roommate’s eyebrow cocked in confusion.

“You mean Yoon Jeonghan?” He asked, and you shot him a puzzled look. “That’s the only Han I know from Journalism. You know, Seungcheol’s friend?”

That made you pause. Jeonghan. Han. Seungcheol. Cheol. Cogs turned in your brain until everything clicked. Han was Jeonghan. You agreed to go on a date with the same person who asked you if you wanted to go to a party with him. That’s why he declined your invitation.

You groaned at not being able to realise it sooner, but you didn’t want to do anything about it for now. Jeonghan must’ve had his reasons to keep this from you, so you let it be for the time being. 

You got up from your seat, Jun perking up and furrowing his brows slightly. “Did Hao say something wrong?”

“Oh—no, I just figured something out,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as you muttered to yourself. Before Soonyoung could add anything, your roommate shushed him.

“Leave her be, she probably figured something out about Jeonghan.”

You decided to call Joshua about this about three hours later. It was late—11:09 pm—and you couldn’t sleep. You were wearing a face mask, typing along on your laptop, when your best friend answered your call, also in the middle of his skin care routine.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you were a ghost,” he muttered, and you rolled your eyes at his eccentric comparison. “What is this about? You said it was important, but you just seemed bothered by something.”

“Jeonghan is Han,” you mumbled, and your best friend made a face, not being able to understand you.

“What? Can you repeat that? You literally mumbled it, and I’m not Superman, by the way.” He sassed, putting on his moisturiser. “Jeonghan is who?”

“He’s Han! Like—Like Han, Seungcheol’s friend!” 

You explained everything to Joshua, filling him in on everything, and by the time you were done with your rambling, your best friend was done with his skincare routine, and you were removing your sheet mask.

“That’s a lot to unpack, pipsqueak.” He sighed, shaking his head as he sat down on his office chair, propping his phone up against something while probably opening his laptop to write his thesis, just like you. “What do you wanna do about it?”

“I don’t know! I mean, I like him, but which one is the real him, you know?” You groaned softly as you buried your face into your hands without realising what you had just said.

“Wait, go back. What did you say?”

“Which one’s the real him–?” You looked at your phone screen, confused.

“No, dumbass, the other thing.”

“That I liked—oh. Oh.” You finally got what he meant, realising that you liked Jeonghan. 

You weren’t sure which version of him you liked more, but you liked him all the same. It made you realise that in the past few days, you’ve known Jeonghan as Seungcheol’s friend and as your phone pen pal, you’ve liked talking to both versions of him. The awkward dork side and the more flirty side of him.

“So, what are you gonna do about it?” Joshua repeated himself, looking at you with a knowing smile.

“I’m gonna go to that party and tell him how I feel?” You sounded unsure, feeling your insecurities grow. Jeonghan knew what you looked like all this time, but you still felt like you weren’t going to be enough for him. You also felt a bit betrayed at the fact that he knew who you were, but you didn’t know who he was—not fully anyway. But that didn’t really matter right now, your priorities set on the fact that you’d confront him during your date and not during the party, not wanting to ruin your chances with Jeonghan by cornering him.

Joshua noticed your conflicted expression and sighed. “You’re going to spiral if you overthink this, pips. And damn right you’re gonna tell him how you feel. If you get cold feet, you have to buy me those Prada sunglasses I told you about for my birthday.”

“Dude, your birthday just happened!” You whined, knowing there was no getting out of this. Not unless you wanted a dent in your bank account anyway.

Sometimes you felt like you called the wrong person when asking for advice, but Joshua was always real with you, and so was Wonwoo. But you didn’t want to impede the latter with your love life problems when all he did was game when he had the time with his busy schedule as both a biology and engineering major. It was surprising that he had time to get lunch with you and Joshua every time.

You continued to talk to Joshua until you finally decided to head to bed, bidding your best friend goodnight and ending the call. A soft sigh left your lips as you took a quick picture of your desk and sent it to Jeonghan’s phone number.

You: [sent 2 attachments]

You: Shit.

You: That second picture wasn’t supposed to get sent.

Jeonghan: Fuck, sweets

You: DON’T LOOK AT IT??

Jeonghan: YOU LITERALLY SENT IT??

Jeonghan: You look hot, though

You: I—thank you.

Jeonghan: Is it weird to admit that I got hard?

You didn’t reply to that, as you wanted to scream your lungs out into your pillow, but it was late, and Minghao would smother you with said pillow if you didn’t shut up. You were experimenting—it was supposed to be something you kept in your gallery and then deleted when you looked too hard at it. 

It was you, after your shower, posing a little too riskily for the camera, on your knees in front of your full-length mirror, wearing nothing but a tank top with thin straps, and shorts that were a little too short for your liking. Your face was covered by your phone, but it was obvious that it was meant to be for Jeonghan. You were just too much of a wuss to send it to him now that you knew who he was.

You looked back at your messages, groaning at the fact that you couldn’t turn back time and be more careful with sending pictures from your gallery.

You: That’s rather a bold statement.

Jeonghan: Okay, good you’re back

Jeonghan: Thought you died from embarrassment

Jeonghan: Though there’s really no point in being embarrassed, pretty girl

Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]

Oh, fuck. It was a picture of Jeonghan—wearing his sweats and a loose t-shirt that rode up from the position he was lying in. Bulge prominent in his pants.

You: Is that a current pic?

Jeonghan: Yeah

Jeonghan: I don’t send shit like this to anyone else, pretty

You: Do you really think I’m that hot…?

Jeonghan: Don’t do that

You: Do what?

Jeonghan: Belittle yourself. You’re pretty, hot and everything I could ever want, sweetheart.

You: Stop—

Jeonghan: You got me hard for fucks sake

Jeonghan: Do you want me to send myself jerking off just to prove it to you?

You: …

Jeonghan: Too far?

You: Send it.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched when he saw the message. Send it. Fuck. Were you really serious? He bit his lower lip as he palmed himself while looking at the picture you had sent, feeling like some creep for planning to jerk off to such a pretty photo of you. But he’d rather be sure as he typed on his phone with one hand.

Jeonghan: U srs?

You: Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?

Jeonghan: Idk, ppl usually don’t ask for dick pics, let alone someone jerking off…

You: You offered, I accepted it. Now send it, coward.

Jeonghan: You’re so mean to your boyfriend 🙁

You: Future boyfriend***

Jeonghan: I’ll take it

Jeonghan: Brb

Jeonghan shimmied his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock as he hissed softly at the cold air hitting his sensitive tip. He bit his lower lip as he opened the camera app, his cheeks flushed behind it as he hit record. 

He touched his cock, stroking it gently as he rubbed the leaking precum all over his thick girth, grunting and whining softly as he imagined it was you and your pretty mouth sucking him off. Jeonghan groaned out your name as he closed his eyes before they fluttered open once more, so he could focus on recording himself fucking his fist, imagining your breasts that almost spilt out of your tank top and the short shorts that probably barely covered your ass.

“Fuck—” He grunted, feeling himself get closer as he teased his tip, but ended the recording before he could cum, just so he could edge himself. He quickly wiped his hand with a tissue from his nightstand before nervously sending the video to you.

Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]

Jeonghan: There—

You: Holy fuck.

Jeonghan: ?

You: Nothing…

Jeonghan: Sweets, I just sent myself jerking off to you, speak up

You: It's embarrassing!

Jeonghan: More than me sending a video of myself?

You: …

You: I'm soaked

You: Like, I didn't know I could secrete so much slick

Jeonghan: Abandoning the punctuation marks, that's a sign

You: Aren't you gonna ask me for anything?

Jeonghan: Not unless you're comfortable with it, sweets

You: [sent 1 attachment]

Jeonghan physically groaned, seeing the picture that you'd sent—bent over, your ass facing the mirror as you took the picture from your bed. He could see the cute posters and knick-knacks you had in your room, but he was zeroed in on your panty-covered mound, slick coating your inner thighs and your panties were soaked.

Jeonghan could feel his cock twitching, and more precum leaked out of his tip. A strangled grunt left his lips as he went back to stroking himself, and making sure he reached his release with the sight of you.

Jeonghan: so fucking pretyy 

Jeonghan: gnna bust a nut

You: Jeonghan, I wish you were here…

That was what unravelled him, a choked-out moan leaving his lips as spurts of hot cum shot out of his shaft, coating his lower abdomen and his hands. He embarrassingly snapped a quick photo of it before sending it to you in a post-nut haze.

Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]

You: Is that because of me?

Jeonghan: yws

You: ??

Jeonghan: Sorry, yes, I was typing with one hand

Jeonghan: Did you really mean it?

You: Yeah… I'm soaking wet, and I don't know what to do.

Jeonghan: fuck.

Jeonghan: Call me.

You bit your lower lip as you read his message over and over. Call him. Your stomach fluttered at hearing his voice through the phone, even if you knew what he sounded like, but this would confirm everything.

You hastily slipped off your panties, getting comfortable in your bed as you dialled Jeonghan’s phone number. He answered almost immediately, sounding strained and breathless.

“H–hello…?” You murmured, your phone pinched between your cheek and shoulder as you worked on teasing yourself, rubbing your inner thighs with one hand and tweaking your nipples with your other.

“Fuck… you sound so pretty.” Jeonghan's voice sent a jolt to your clit. It was him. Your theories were confirmed, but all you could do was whimper softly when you brushed your fingers against your slippery clit.

“Jeonghan—” You mewled, earning a soft groan from him as you teased yourself. “Need help…”

“I know, baby, I know… What are you doing?” He rasped out, hearing him shift on his bed. 

“Teasing myself,” you mumbled, and Jeonghan hummed, listening along with your soft gasps when you rubbed your clit. “Rubbing my clit—”

Another soft grunt left Jeonghan’s lips as you started hearing soft fap fap sounds coming from the other side of the call. “Okay, baby, keep teasing your cute little clit, spread your slick…” 

“Okay—hngh…” You mewled, eyes rolling back as you teased and rubbed yourself, your hole fluttering around nothing. “ I feel so empty, Jeonghan—”

“Fuck—put… put your fingers in, fuck yourself with two, scissor yourself, baby. Imagine they're my fingers trying to stretch you out for my cock.”

You whimpered at the command, doing as he said as you inserted two fingers into your sopping cunt, your toes curling as you started pumping your digits in and out and scissoring yourself as he told you to. You imagined him being in your room, talking you through it like he was now, touching you and whispering into your ear. 

“Curl your fingers up for me, sweetheart. Come on, it’ll feel good, I promise,” he cooed, and you listened, curling your fingers up to that spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled, and you gasped, wanting to squeeze your thighs together as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers. The heel of your palm grazed against your clit, making you whine as you felt the knot in your lower belly forming.

“I'm close, Jeonghannie—” You whimpered out, while Jeonghan grunted over the other side of the line, the slick sounds of him stroking his cock getting faster and a bit louder. It made you imagine the video he had sent—how big and pretty his dick looked, how he moaned out your name. It was dizzying.

“Keep doing what you're doing, baby, you're doing so well for me,” he murmured, praising you as you got closer to your orgasm. “This really wasn't the way I was expecting us to do this, but fuck, this is hot. You're hot.”

You flushed, mewling his name once more before the band in your stomach snapped, and you let out a whiny moan as your walls convulsed around your fingers, coating them with your release. Your legs trembled as you panted, your vision blurry.

“Baby, you still there?” Jeonghan crooned, and you let out a soft “uh-huh”, still recovering from the intense release you had just gone through.

“I… holy shit—” you gasped as you pulled your fingers out of your slick hole, feeling how soaked you were everywhere; you probably ruined your sheets from coming so hard just now. “I—I think I soaked through my sheets.”

“Fuck, don't say that when I'm not there—” Jeonghan sounded whiny, hearing his pout through the phone as you giggled tiredly.

“It's… It's nice to finally hear your voice,” you murmured, your eyes softening as you closed your trembling legs. Jeonghan hummed, shifting in his bed as he put his sweats back on. You moved to the less ruined side of your bed before grabbing some clean panties from your wardrobe and putting them on.

Feeling slightly awkward, you were unsure of what to say to him now that you were done getting off. “Uhm…”

“Sweetheart, you sound tense. Is it awkward to put a voice to the text message?” Jeonghan chuckled, and you let out a soft huff in reply. “As I said earlier, I… I didn't expect to do it like this.”

“Do what?”

“Have phone sex? I'm more of a hands-on person.” He admitted blatantly, causing you to inhale sharply as you imagined Jeonghan’s hands all over you. He caught on to the silence on your end, a soft chuckle leaving him as you trembled at the sound.

“Now, now… Pump your brakes, little lady. We'll get to that point. Let me buy you dinner first.” He teased, and you whined, rolling your eyes but smiling either way. 

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, listening to his soft breathing before speaking up, “I'll see you Saturday?”

“Yeah, pretty. I'll pick you up, hm?”

“Mhm… goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“Goodnight, sweets.”

After that, you hung up, still trembling, but not because of your orgasm, but because of the excitement of seeing Jeonghan on Saturday and the dread of seeing him on Friday, pretending that you hadn't had phone sex with him. You groaned, the post-orgasm haze wearing off as your logical thinking came back. 

Friday came faster than you’d expected. You were pacing around your living room like a worrywart while Minghao and Joshua played old maid. You were wearing a baby blue blouse and a white denim mini skirt with white sneakers, wanting to somehow look pretty to the party you were going to without overdressing or looking like a hooker.

Joshua groaned when you kept walking back and forth, having had enough of your worrying. “Dude, stop worrying. You'll confront him about it when you're ready.”

“What if he figures out I know?! What if I blurt it out or something—”

“You're worrying about the stupidest of things, you know that?” Minghao deadpanned, drawing a card from Joshua as the latter groaned when he lost. “The two of you are fucking idiots.”

“Hey—” you were about to argue, but the doorbell rang, prompting you to pad over to the front door and check the peephole to see Jeonghan. Unlocking and opening the door, you greeted him with a smile and a quick hug.

“Hi,” you squeaked, earning a raised eyebrow from him as you grabbed your purse and keys. “I'm leaving!” 

You called out to your friends, and they bid you goodbye. “Don't get her near alcohol, she's a lightweight!”

Joshua warned Jeonghan, and you groaned, flipping your best friend off as you closed the door and started walking. Jeonghan offered his arm, and you gladly took it with a soft laugh.

“You look pretty,” Jeonghan murmured, his eyes softening as you flushed under his gaze. Was he always this handsome up close? Your heart couldn't help but flutter, and your body heated up a bit. 

You could handle this. Maybe.

The two of you got to the frat house about fifteen minutes later, entering the loud establishment—music boomed from the speakers, and the place was packed with drunk college students, dancing and shouting at each other to hear what the other was saying. Jeonghan led you up the stairs, opening the door to what seemed like Seungcheol’s room.

“He lives in the dorm by himself?” You looked around, surprised to see only one bed, the rest of the vast space filled with a beanbag and a small couch, along with a desk in the corner by the windows.

“I mean, we used to live together before I decided to move out. And since he's the chapter president, he gets to have a dorm to himself.” 

Jeonghan shrugged, humming uncommittally as he sat down on the bed, patting the free space beside him, causing you to gulp. Act natural. 

You sat down beside him, pretending like the brush of his knee against yours didn't just ignite your skin on fire. He was acting fine, so you should too, right? You technically didn't know Jeonghan was Jeonghan, after all. Your hands were on your lap, and you sat there as Jeonghan looked around the room to see what the two of you could do while the party got crazier downstairs, the music getting louder, and students got rowdier.

“Do you have anything we can do—”

“We can play Uno if you want—”

The two of you said in unison, looking at each other before bursting into soft laughter, and that seemed to break the ice almost immediately. You nodded at the idea of a game of Uno.

“What does the winner get?” You asked, and Jeonghan looked up as if he thought hard about it.

“Hmm, how about a kiss on the cheek?” He offered, and you squinted your eyes at him playfully before he added, “And snacks.”

“You drive a good bargain, Han…” You murmured, touching your chin as you thought about it, humming and making a face that made him laugh.

“I'll take it. The winner gets a kiss on the cheek and snacks!”

At the start of the game, you seemed to have been taking the lead, managing to get to one card first before Jeonghan just smirked and shook his head.

“You underestimate my skills, sweetheart,” he cooed, the nickname sending a jolt down your spine as the memories of last night came flooding back before it got cut short when Jeonghan placed a wild draw four card on the deck. 

You groaned, pouting slightly as you picked four cards from the deck, not having any colour Jeonghan had announced as he placed a blue eight. You picked another card, managing to place a red eight as he clicked his tongue. Your body froze when he shook his head again, placing a red skip card before a red draw two card, which caused you to retaliate with a yellow draw two card, and he clicked his tongue again.

“You sure you wanna play this game, pretty girl?” He tutted, and you looked at him with growing dread as he placed a blue draw two card, forcing you to pick up six cards, leaving him with five cards and you with ten.

Both of you went back and forth until you managed to get three cards left while Jeonghan had two. You bit your lower lip as you looked at your cards—a blue four and a red draw two card. The deck currently had a red eight card, and you were thinking whether or not to place the draw two card or to just pick another card from the deck.

Deciding to take a risk, you place the draw two card, glancing at his reaction. He kept a straight face before sighing. “Sometimes, I wonder if the forces are working against me.”

“Uno, Jeonghan. Your move.”

He picked out the first card from the deck before pausing and glancing at you. You held your breath as he picked out the two cards, having nothing to place in retaliation. He had five cards while you had one. Not like you could place the one you had, so you had to pick another card. A yellow stop card. You wanted to groan, but kept it in as you watched Jeonghan’s moves.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He looked at you with a pensive expression before he apologised, making you look at him confusedly.

“Huh–?” That’s when he placed two wild draw four cards, two wild cards and a blue reverse card, ending the game with your loss.

You just lost.

You lost Uno—the only card game you were probably good at—to Jeonghan.

“A kiss on the cheek is owed to me, my lady,” he teased, grinning as you groaned, rolling your eyes before leaning in and kissing his cheek. Jeonghan hummed at the action, and you couldn’t help but linger in his vicinity as you looked at him up close.

Jeonghan seemed to notice how you were looking at him, and his grin softened to a soft smile. “Careful, sweetheart, I might think you have a thing for me.”

That made you reel back with a flush to your cheeks, hitting his shoulder as he snorted out a laugh. That’s when he stood up, confusing you before he motioned towards one of Seungcheol’s drawers.

“He keeps his snacks here. We can eat them since he’s probably just hoarding them for when he feels like it.” He took out a bag of chips and a box of strawberry pocky. You grabbed the pocky and opened it, while Jeonghan continued to snoop in Seungcheol’s drawer before whistling lowly.

You looked at him with a quizzical brow, and he took out what looked like a blunt of weed. “Is that—”

“Sure looks like it…” Jeonghan murmured, glancing around the room before finding a lighter. “Wanna smoke it with me?”

The question hung in the air as you looked at Jeonghan. He seemed chill about the whole thing, probably had smoked weed before, but you never tried to in your four years of uni. He sat back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, tilting his head to the side before offering you the blunt.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t smoked weed before.” 

“I haven’t.” You admitted, and Jeonghan’s eyes softened. “But I’d like to try.”

Jeonghan lit the blunt soon after your approval, taking a drag out of it and handing it to you to try. You awkwardly held the blunt between your fingers, taking a drag before you started to cough, handing the weed back to him as he patted your back while you tried to recover from the burn down your throat. 

“I—fuck, I underestimated the strength of it. Sorry,” Jeonghan apologised softly, still rubbing your back. “How about I shotgun you? It’ll be easier on you, but the effect will be weaker, so…”

“Y-yeah, I think that’ll be better.” You nodded, looking at him with teary eyes after practically coughing your lungs out. “How do we do it?” 

You asked, and he glanced away awkwardly before patting his lap. “You’ll have to get close, sweetheart. I will be exhaling smoke into your mouth after all.”

Ah. That made sense. Something in your stomach flipped as you looked at his lap before back at his face, and you made your way to straddle him, slightly hovering. 

“Inhale when I exhale into your mouth.” Jeonghan took another puff out of the blunt, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb, prying your mouth agape before blowing the smoke into your mouth. You did as he said and inhaled, taking in the smoke as you felt the weed affecting you already due to its potency.

With a couple of more exchanges, and you could feel yourself getting high, sitting snugly on Jeonghan’s lap while he talked about something random from his childhood, while you fed him pocky. The two of you had probably gone through half of the blunt before Jeonghan decided to place it down on the ashtray he had found earlier. His hands found your hips, and you didn’t mind the touch one bit as you fed him another pocky stick.

“Play the pocky game with me,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as you hummed and agreed without a second thought. You placed one end of the long pocky stick between his teeth while you started biting the other end, getting closer and closer to his lips. 

When your noses bumped against each other, and you were about to take the last bite, Jeonghan took the rest of the pocky stick into his mouth before stealing a kiss from you, prompting you to gasp. He didn’t seem to be sorry as he bumped his nose against yours.

“Was that okay?” Jeonghan whispered, and you nodded gently, already leaning in for more as his grip on your hips tightened. “Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, Hannie, I liked it…” You murmured back before pressing another kiss to his lips, forgetting all about the pocky as your hands travelled to the back of his head and you tangled your fingers in his hair.

A groan left Jeonghan’s lips as he kissed you back, his hands roaming around your waist down to your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. “Fuck, is this okay?”

He muttered against your lips, fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, his eyes searching your face for any hint of disapproval. There was none, and you only tugged gently on his hair.

“Touch me, Jeonghan…” you murmured, and a soft noise left him as you said his name. He was too high to realise, and too focused on pushing your skirt up to your hips to care.

When you ground yourself against him, he panted, his dick stirring in his sweatpants as he watched your panty-clad cunt grind against his growing erection. A curse left Jeonghan’s lips when you ducked your head down, kissing his neck as he guided your hips.

“Just like that, sweetheart, mnh…” He grunted as he saw the wet patch forming against his pants, and your panties were probably soaked from the stimulation. He leaned his head back against the headboard, dizzy with pleasure and the weed working through his system. “I want to fuck you so bad, but I can't—”

He choked out, and you whined. “Why not?”

Jeonghan's hazed brain cleared for a moment, knowing that he didn't want this to happen this way—not when you didn't know who he was yet. Not when he was pretending to be someone else.

“Jeonghan, please…” You nosed his jaw, and that's when he realised that you were calling him by his name.

“I– how did you—” He faltered, groaning when you ground down against him once more, his grip on your hips tightening once more to halt your movements. “Baby, tell me.”

“Minghao told me… I kind of confirmed it when we called that night.”

Jeonghan grunted, moving your head from his neck as he made you look at him. “You're… you're not mad?”

“Why would I be?” You murmured, a puzzled expression forming on your face. “You probably had your reasons, and I'm not going to get mad over you hiding your identity. I'm more mad at myself that I didn't figure it out sooner.”

You pouted, moving your hands from Jeonghan’s hair to his face, caressing gently. “Can you fuck me now?”

A choked-out noise came out of him as he faltered and got flustered by your blunt request. He shook his head in disbelief before shifting slightly to sit better against the headboard. 

“You're something else, sweets…” He muttered, stealing a quick kiss from your lips as his hands travelled to the gusset of your panties and tugged them to the side to see your glistening slit. His cock throbbed at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be inside your sweet cunt.

Jeonghan opened the nightstand drawer to grab the box of condoms Seungcheol usually kept, seeing that there were two condoms left. He gently lifted you so he could shimmy his sweats and boxers down to his mid thigh, his cock leaking and hard.

You watched as he clumsily opened the condom and put it on himself. Once he was done, he tossed the empty foil and tugged you closer, positioning you above his aching dick. He paused as his tip teased your entrance, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You sure you want—” Jeonghan cut himself off when you sank down on his shaft without warning, a moan leaving his lips as your wet heat clamped around him snugly. 

He watched as your thighs trembled when he bottomed out, your hips pressed against his as he raised you up and gently slammed you down, causing you to make such sweet noises that had him immediately addicted.

“Jeonghannie—” you whined, riding him slowly as he guided you, rolling your hips just right as his tip nudged against spots you wouldn't be able to reach with your fingers. “S'good—”

You looked down at him as he seemed to be focused on watching his cock disappear into your warm cunt, a groan leaving him before looking up at your face. You looked so fucked out, and Jeonghan loved it, his hips starting to meet your downward motions, thrusting up into you.

“You're perfect, sweets… everything I ever wanted—fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. You like that? Being everything I want?” He panted as he pressed soft kisses to your jaw and neck, slamming you down harder on his cock as he fucked you faster, not being able to help himself.

You felt wrecked, getting fucked so good by the same person you’d texted for over a week in his best friend’s dorm room. It was something out of a fantasy, and you couldn’t help but whimper when Jeonghan’s thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the nub as he tried to lead you to your first orgasm.

“Jeonghan, fuck, I’m gonna cum—” You squeaked, feeling how your cunt got slipperier and the knot in your abdomen got tighter. 

Jeonghan only grunted at that, his assault on your bundle of nerves not stopping as he kept thrusting up into your tightness. “Cum for me then, milk my cock for what it’s worth, hm? Come on—”

You cried out when his hips snapped just right, his tip kissing your cervix as your orgasm came crashing down on you like a wave. Your thighs trembled, but you continued to bounce on Jeonghan’s cock until he blew his spend into the condom he was wearing.

“Too hot…” You grumbled, tossing your blouse onto the foot of the bed, leaving yourself in your black lace bra. Jeonghan also shed himself of his hoodie and t-shirt, revealing his lean body. He pulled out of you as he tossed the condom into the box before grabbing another one. You were surprised how quickly he got hard again, not expecting it at all.

Jeonghan flipped the two of you over, so that he was on top of you this time, kicking off his pants while undoing your skirt to toss it into the small pile of clothes that you had made on the floor. Your bra and panties joined the pile soon after, leaving both of you naked. You panted softly as he ground his cock against your slippery folds, his cockhead nudging your pudgy clit before he pushed into your wet hole once more. His grinds were slow and lazy, but Jeonghan filled you up just right as he took one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, managing to hit deeper spots from this position.

A soft grunt left him as he watched you mewl and whimper under him, your arm covering your eyes as your breasts bounced back and forth with each thrust. “You look so pretty,” he murmured, moving your arm and pinning it above your head, seeing your eyes glazed with tears as he cooed.

“Why are you crying, baby? Is it too much—” He almost sounded panicked, and you shook your head, not wanting him to stop.

“No–no, it feels so good, Hannie, I just—fuck, it feels so good—” You whined as your back arched off the bed, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but lean down and press soft kisses to the valley of your breasts, worshipping your body as he continued to fuck you slowly.

Jeonghan relished the way your pussy clamped around his thick shaft, sucking him in and milking him with your gummy walls. Soon, his hips started to move a bit faster, feeling his release building up with each second of being inside your needy cunt.

“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped out, his pelvis rubbing against your clit with every rock of his hips as your velvet walls continued to spasm around him with increasing vigour, signalling that you were close as well. 

It didn't take long for the two of you to reach your orgasms, with yours hitting you first and triggering Jeonghan’s as the two of you moaned softly.

“One more time, Hannie—” You keened out a whine when he pulled out, noticing how sweat sheened from his skin. He was softly panting, still holding your leg over his shoulder as he pressed a gentle kiss to your calf.

“Can't… We don't have any condoms left—” He crooked out, but you only tugged him closer when he threw the used-up condom into the box once more. His cock was still half-hard, and you were aching for more. Jeonghan murmured your name softly, chiding you when you angled your hips, so that your entrance would nudge against his bare tip. “We can't—”

“Hannie, please… I'm on birth control, I just need you inside me one more time, please.”

You begged, and Jeonghan was weak for you. He probably always had been, even when you didn't know him back then. He sighed, praying that his stamina would last one more time. “One more time, and we're done. I'm not gonna last much longer…”

He admitted, and you just nodded. He didn't have to last long, you just wanted to feel him—feel what it was like to have him raw and creaming your pussy instead of a condom. Jeonghan clenched his jaw as he pushed his tip into your bare hole and hissed softly at how wet and snug you felt without any barriers.

“Oh, fuck… I'm definitely not gonna last—” He grunted, filling you up with ease from how slick your walls and inner thighs were. “Fuckfuckfuck—”

Jeonghan groaned, his pace hasty as he drove his cock into your spasming cunt, gripping and sucking him in like a vice. His cock molded your insides, his cockhead abusing your cervix with each thrust as you squealed. 

You could feel your release building up once more, the heat in your abdomen unbearable as you clamped down on Jeonghan’s shaft, the band snapping and releasing hot slick around his length. The pleasure felt like hot lava against your skin, burning you as your back arched off the bed, making a mess out of Seungcheol’s sheets. Your pussy milked him, a milky ring forming around the base of his cock, and Jeonghan couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A guttural groan left his lips as his hips stuttered, movements stilling as he came inside you in hot spurts. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not being able to hold in your keen whine as he filled you up to the brim until both of your mixed releases were leaking out of your used cunt to your ass down to the already messy sheets.

Once Jeonghan recovered, he pressed a soft kiss to your throat, pulling out as he watched his cum and your juices leak out of you before pushing it back in with his fingers. The action made you whimper, but you let him do what he wanted, watching him with lidded eyes.

“We made such a mess…” He grumbled with a soft chuckle, “Cheol’s gonna kill me for fucking you on his bed.”

“Future us’s problem,” you murmured, groaning deliciously at the ache of your body as Jeonghan grabbed some tissues to clean you up before crashing on top of you. “You’re heavy—”

You complained, but Jeonghan was out like a light, his breathing heavy and rhythmic as you sighed with a soft smile, drifting to take a nap as well.

At about 3 in the morning, you could hear banging outside the door. Jeonghan stirred first as he groaned, grabbing his pants from the floor before tossing his t-shirt for you to wear. You put it on, along with your panties, and when Jeonghan saw that you were fully covered, he opened the door to see a disgruntled Seungcheol.

The disgruntlement immediately switched from shock to disbelief at the sight of his bedsheets. “Dude.”

“Cut me some slack, you invited me to this party. Plus, I didn’t expect we’d fuck…” Jeonghan murmured, sheepish as he glanced at you with a soft smile and a wink that made you flush in embarrassment.

“You smoked my weed!” Seungcheol hissed, groaning as he looked around his room, noticing the half-eaten snacks, the almost-smoked blunt and the messy sheets you were currently sitting on. “Man, I was saving that pocky…”

He sulked as you looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Seungcheol.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s his—” He pointed at his best friend with a glare before rubbing his face. “I’m crashing at Mingyu’s. I’m not going to sleep in my room for the next week. It reeks of sex and weed in here.”

Seungcheol grumbled as he grabbed a few clothes from his drawer and opened the window before muttering something along the lines of “unbelievable” and “fucking in my room”. He closed the door after himself, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, stifling your giggles as Jeonghan covered his hand with his fist. “We should clean his room and head back.”

Jeonghan nodded at that, and you put your skirt on, still wearing his t-shirt, while he put on his hoodie before the two of you started tidying up his best friend’s room. Once you were finished, you held your blouse in your hand, leaving the room with a ‘sorry’ note with it.

Walking back to your apartment, you and Jeonghan had your arms linked together, giggling and talking about random shit. When you got to the bottom of your apartment building, he unlinked your arms, but didn’t let go of your hand just yet. 

“I’ll see you later for our date?” He asked, looking at you hopefully, and when you nodded, he sighed in relief. You cocked an eyebrow at that before he spoke up again. “I thought you wouldn’t want…”

“Jeonghan, I just had the best sex of my life. I think I’d want to still go on a date with you.”

“Just because I’m sexy? Or because you actually want to date me?” He pouted, teasing you as you rolled your eyes.

“Can’t it be both?” You compromised as Jeonghan hummed and pursed his lips, pretending to think about it before nodding.

He pulled you closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. “Both is good, sweets. I’ll see you later.”

You smiled softly, letting go of his hand before waving him goodbye and heading up to your apartment, still wearing his t-shirt.

“That’s one hell of a fashion statement.” Minghao deadpanned as you jumped once you closed the front door. You turned around to see your roommate, your two best friends, and Jun in the living room, visibly waiting for you.

“What does it say?” You entertained Hao’s sarcastic remark as you tossed your blouse into your room before coming back to where they were.

“It says, ‘I was clearly laid, ask me about it because I’ll definitely brag’. It’s quite obvious.” Joshua chimed in, watching as you grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his face. Your best friend let out an ‘oomph’ sound before throwing the pillow back at you.

You huffed at them, irked at the fact that they were all gathered in your apartment. “What are you guys doing here anyway? I get Hao, he’s my roommate, but you three? Wonwoo, how’d you get dragged into this?”

Wonwoo shrugged, pointing at Joshua, “He told me what happened, and as your friend, I came for support. So, are you going to tell us what happened during the party or what?”

“This is my sex life we’re talking about.”

“And? You’ve shared worse stuff, pipsqueak. Spill the tea.” Joshua seemed the most interested in the gossip, while Minghao just sat there, looking unbothered when he was lowkey listening. Jun and Wonwoo were too busy fussing over a game on the latter’s phone, but they were tuning in as well.

You sighed, sitting down on the free armchair by the sofa, before you started telling them about what had happened during the party. Deciding to leave out the three rounds of sex, Joshua was awestruck, Minghao was subtly judging, but at the same time, he was happy for you, while Jun and Wonwoo were still busy with the game on their phones.

“Now, get the fuck out of my apartment. I need to get some sleep before my date.” You pointed at the door, and Joshua whined but dragged your Wonwoo and Jun out of your apartment, but not before Wonwoo could say something.

“I hope he doesn’t break your heart, or he has four guys to deal with.” Your best friend offered you a smile before closing the door. You smiled at the thought of your friends beating up Jeonghan if he ever fucked up, and it warmed your heart, thankful to have such good friends.

After 6 hours of sleep, you woke up around 9 am, your phone buzzing being the reason why you woke up. You checked the notifications bar, seeing Jeonghan’s name on top.

Jeonghan: Good morning :)) 

Jeonghan: Can you come downstairs? I have something for you, sweets.

You: How are you downstairs???

You: We literally saw each other six hours ago.

You: I’m still in my pyjamas.

Jeonghan: Perfect. Could I come up then?

You: Yeah, I’ll open the door for you.

You got up from your bed with a soft grunt, looking at yourself in the mirror as you felt the soreness between your legs. A soft sigh left your lips when your intercom rang, prompting you to rush towards it and open the door for Jeonghan downstairs.

When he finally got upstairs, you opened the front door, seeing him holding two cups of what seemed like coffee and tea in one hand and breakfast from your favourite bakery. “Surprise?”

“You didn’t have to—” Your eyes softened as you let him in, closing the door as he took his shoes off after handing you the bag with your favourite pastries from the bakery. “How’d you know I liked these?”

“Well, uh…” He trailed off, his cheeks dusting pink as he strided towards your couch, looking around your space a little better. “I might’ve had a crush on you before the whole wrong number ordeal.”

You blinked at him, surprise filling you as you connected the dots further—the way he seemed to be awkward and nervous around you during the first few meetings when he was pretending to be Han and his flirty behaviour over text.

“No way—” You shook your head, sitting down beside him, surprise evident in your tone. “We didn’t even know each other back then!”

“Well, you didn’t know me, I knew you. We took Statistics together last year, too.” Jeonghan scratched his cheek awkwardly when you continued to look at him with an astonished expression. “I didn’t know Cheol knew you until a few weeks ago, and that was when I gained the guts to ask him for your number and message you, pretending that I had the wrong number.”

The explanation baffled you, but it made sense at the same time before you scoffed out a laugh.

“Jeonghan.”

“Mmm?”

“You couldn’t have made it any harder for yourself.” You snorted, and he groaned before laughing softly along with you. “Like, seriously. You could’ve walked up to me and talked to me.”

“It wasn’t that simple!” He covered his face, embarrassed, but he kept smiling, a little glad that you found the situation humorous. Jeonghan sighed softly when you finally stopped giggling, shaking his head at how cute you were before noting that it was quite quiet in your apartment.

“Is your roommate not home?” He asked as you hummed, taking a bite out of the pastry in the bag.

“Minghao usually goes to the gym before going for a three-hour nature walk around the campus park. He also takes his time to meditate by the lake, so he’ll be gone for a while. Why?”

Jeonghan just shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched you enjoy your food. He could get used to seeing you like this—dishevelled after sleep, face bare and hair sticking out from multiple ends. It was cute, and he’d been dreaming of this day.

You noticed his soft gaze on you, making you feel a little self-conscious. “Is there something on my face?”

“Huh-? No, no! I just… I’ve been kind of dreaming of this day, he murmured, smiling softly.

You tilted your head to the side, puzzled, before Jeonghan continued. “You know, uh, seeing you like this—dishevelled and whatnot. Just you.”

You swallowed the food in your mouth, blinking at him. “So, my usual grouchy morning self?”

“Yes.” He nodded, leaning back against the sofa.

“You’re even weirder in person, you know that?” You grumbled but cracked a soft smile. “I can’t say I hate it. Being my boyfriend and all.”

Jeonghan blinked at the words you just said, causing you to look at him with a confused expression once more. “What?”

“Say that thing again.”

“I can’t say I hate it..?” You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure, before Jeonghan shook his head and made a circular motion with his hand as if telling you to rewind.

“No, the other thing.”

“Being my boyfrien—oh.” Your cheeks flushed, looking down at your lap as you tried not to explode on the spot for saying that. “Is… Is that okay?”

“Is— Is being your boyfriend okay? Are you hearing yourself?” Jeonghan huffed softly before grabbing your shoulders and shaking you, “Of course, it’s okay. More than okay, actually—perfect, more so.”

You grabbed his arms and stopped him from shaking you, “Okay, okay—I get it!”

Jeonghan let you go and sat back down on the couch, grabbing his coffee from the coffee table before taking a long swig from it, and placing it back down as you finished your food. Once you were done, you crumpled the paper bag, and he wiped off the leftover crumbs from the corner of your lips.

“So…” You started, curious about what he had planned for today’s date, “What are we going to do today?”

Jeonghan only smiled, winking at you as he leaned back, “That’s a secret you’ll have to unfold later, sweets. I’m not fond of ruining surprises.”

A groan left your lips, too impatient, but knowing Jeonghan, he’d stay true to his word and not reveal anything until the date. You pouted slightly before taking a sip of your tea, humming at the hot beverage filling your system.

“Not even one hint?”

“No. Not a chance, sweetheart. Stop trying to ruin your surprise.” He squinted at you before flicking your forehead, prompting you to retaliate, but he didn’t let you as he grabbed your wrists.

“What if I don’t like surprises?” You argued and tried to tug yourself away from his grasp, and he rolled his eyes, keeping you close.

“Not my problem, sweets, you’re not getting any spoilers.”

Even with your insistence on having Jeonghan give you at least one hint, he only gave you one, very vague hint, which went somewhere along the lines of “you’ll love it” and “it’s something you really like”.

That hint didn’t really help, since he asked you to wear something casual yet pretty, so you were stuck between a white sundress adorned with tiny pink flowers or a loose V-neck sweater and jeans. 

Deciding on the former, you put on the dress, matching it with your white shoes, before heading back out to the living room, where Jeonghan was waiting. He was scrolling through his phone when he glanced up and saw you standing there, your hands behind your back as you awkwardly rocked back and forth.

“Stop staring like that—” You huffed, feeling awkward as he gaped at you before snapping out of it.

“Sorry—fuck… I, uh… You look pretty.” He got up from the sofa, walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Like, really pretty.”

Jeonghan leaned down, nosing your cheek. “Wondering if we should go on that date right now or—ow, okay, okay, sorry.”

He snickered when you smacked him, grinning as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. That's when you heard a groan behind you, prompting you to turn around and see Minghao with squinting eyes.

“The two of you better not fuck on the couch,” He muttered accusingly before heading to his room, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more. A giggle left your lips before you patted his chest.

“Let's go on that date, shall we, my lady?” He offered his arm for you to grab, and you smiled as you took it before heading out the door.

The two of you walked to one of your favourite bookstores near campus, which you hadn’t expected for your first date with him. “Bookstore date?”

“That’s not all, sweets.” Jeonghan grinned, opening the door for you as he let you enter the establishment. “I decided to ask the staff… And they let me rent the place out for two hours.”

Your eyes widened at his words, surprised at the fact that Jeonghan managed to rent the bookstore for a whole two hours. When you entered, you saw Kimmy—one of the workers in the store—by the register, winking and giving you a thumbs-up before waving a small green flag she held by the counter to promote books with green-flag men.

A soft giggle left your lips as Jeonghan led you to the small reading nook the owners of the store had agreed to make for you since you came by so often, and it was far from the main hall of the bookstore itself, so you had some privacy. The table you had there was set with a candle, and some food—takeout from your favourite Chinese joint that you frequented with Joshua.

“You thought of everything for this date, haven’t you?” You looked at him with a fond smile, and he hummed before grabbing a baby blue bag from behind one of the chairs.

“That’s not all. Sit down and open it.” He pulled the chair back for you, prompting you to giggle once more as you sat down comfortably and pulled out what seemed like a cinammoroll plush keyring. You glanced up at him with a slightly ajar mouth before he added, “Oh, there’s also an envelope, open it.”

Without another word, you grabbed the envelope and opened it to read, “Here’s my card. You have ten minutes to look around the store and five minutes to grab the books you want. Winky face, your boyfriend.” You looked at him, dumbfounded as he only chuckled.

“We’ll do it after we eat, it’s better to eat Chinese when it’s still hot.”

The two of you ate and conversed, giggling about the stupidest things as you reminisced about the things that happened a couple of hours prior. Jeonghan seemed to notice your flushed expression, grinning slightly. “You’re thinking about what happened last night, did you?”

“Shut up—” You squeaked, stealing a dumpling from his container, and he let you as he leaned his chin on his palm, looking enamoured by the sight of you. Feeling flustered, you took a sip of your drink before clearing your throat. “I’m full, so let’s do that thing, hm? I have a few books I’ve been eyeing, and I know the layout of this building like the back of my hand.”

“I’m going to be broke, aren’t I?” Jeonghan sighed with a soft laugh when you nodded, taking one last bite of his food before getting up and taking your outstretched hand, excited for whatever activity you had planned.

After the timer ended, you managed to snag about 8 books, two of which were textbooks, which made Jeonghan raise an eyebrow at you, but books were expensive as fuck, so if you had the chance to monopolise someone else’s money, you’d use it. The other six paperbacks were romance novels, with genres ranging from romantasy to standard romcom tropes.

“You sure like romance novels, huh?” He teased, looking through one of the books’ synopses, curious about the contents of the paperback, and opening a page where the main characters were having rough sex. Jeonghan whistled softly as Kimmy snatched the book from him, rang it up and put it in the paper bag. You thanked her as you waved goodbye while your boyfriend held the bag with your haul. “Are you sure you’ll manage to read all of these? Six novels are a lot, you know?”

You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s the weekend, Jeonghan. I have a whole Sunday free, and my Mondays usually consist of theoretical science that I can miss because the professor sends video versions of the lecture anyway. I’ll manage to binge these in a day.”

That’s when you noticed Jeonghan’s slight pout, prompting you to raise your eyebrow at him before he sighed dramatically.

“Why are you pouting?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, still pouting. “My girlfriend would rather spend time with books for the whole weekend instead of her boyfriend—” You smacked him, cutting him off as he stifled his chuckles. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I mean, I could kick Minghao out for the day, and we can hang out in the living room without him side-eyeing us.” You shrugged, not thinking much of it, as the two of you walked towards the cafe, where you bought your tea from and bought some drinks before heading to the park to sit down by the small pond.

“How are you enjoying our little date so far, sweets?” Jeonghan asked, looking at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. You shrugged, causing him to gently nudge you. “Come on, tell me.”

“Honestly?” You looked at him with a soft yet happy smile, “It’s the best date I’ve been on in a while. You’ve outdone yourself, boyfriend.”

Jeonghan grinned, clearly happy with the praise, before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, surprising you. “Perfect. How many boyfriend points do I get?”

“Boyfriend points?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, like… If I get enough of them, I get a prize or something.” He shrugged, making you blink at him.

“Jeonghan, we are not doing that. What are you, a toddler?” You snorted, and he made a face which you almost smacked him for again, but refrained. “We are not doing that.”

“Worth a shot.”

After your date, Jeonghan walked you back home and gave you a goodbye kiss that made you feel like you were on clouds. You felt all giddy, and you were giggling to yourself on the way up to your apartment.

Once you entered the apartment, you saw Minghao lounging around in the living room, watching something on the TV. He glanced at you before sighing, “How was the date?”

“Perfect,” you chirped, still smiling, which made your cheeks hurt. “I think he’s actually not real from how perfect the date went.”

“I’m sure you’re itching to tell someone the details, so spill.”

“You’re the best roommate ever, do I ever tell you that?” You sat down beside him after placing your paper bag with your new books on the dining table. 

“I’ve been told once or twice, yes.” He rolled his eyes, but Minghao was genuinely interested, wanting to know how your day with Jeonghan went.

“Okay, so…”

After talking about your date with Minghao and Facetiming Joshua and Wonwoo in the process, you managed to get some good night’s sleep. You couldn’t kick Minghao out for the day, so you had to cancel your plans with Jeonghan, but the two of you called for about three hours before you had to end the call because you needed food in your system.

While you prepared dinner, you found yourself texting your boyfriend, sharing memes or just talking about random messages.

Jeonghan: Whatcha cooking, good looking?

You: Just some cream pasta.

You: Reading was quite slow today. I only read 50% of the first book.

Jeonghan: That’s still a lot, sweets

Jeonghan: It’d take me about 3 days to get halfway through a book :/

Jeonghan: So, be proud of yourself for reading so much in one day

You: If you say so 🤷

You: Anyway, what are YOU up to?

Jeonghan: I’m playing video games with Cheol

Jeonghan: Kinda boring ngl

Jeonghan: Would rather talk with you ;)

You: Pfft, okay.

You: Play your silly video games with him.

You: And apologise about the weed.

Jeonghan: Just the weed?

You: And the pocky.

You: I don’t regret the sex, you know.

Jeonghan: Oh, I know ;)

Jeonghan: I’d so do it again even if we weren’t high

You: You’re evil.

Jeonghan: You like me so 🤷

You: Fair enough.

Jeonghan: I gtg

Jeonghan: Text you later?

You: If I don’t get immersed in reading, then yes.

Jeonghan: Okay, love u

You reread the message, trying to make sure you weren’t seeing things before turning as red as a tomato. He didn’t mean it like that, right? He meant it as a goodbye and not an actual ‘I love you’? You screamed into your hands, confused and flustered as hell.

On Jeonghan’s end, he was also screaming into his hands after sending you that last message, Seungcheol, looking at him with an ‘Are you fucking serious right now?’ expression. “Dude, you’re overreacting. It was just a text.”

“You don’t get it, Cheolie…” Jeonghan groaned as his best friend was more focused on the game he was playing rather than Jeonghan’s insistent whining. “I said ‘love you’ and not ‘I love you’ because I’m a fucking coward. And I wanna say it to her face, not over text.”

“Then do that?” Seungcheol paused his game, sighing softly.

Jeonghan only groaned, throwing his phone on his bed before rubbing his face from slight frustration. He wanted to do it so badly, but he felt like he’d be pushing it. “It’s too early for me to do it! I don’t wanna scare her off.”

He grumbled, and his best friend could hear his pout without even looking at him. “When did you become such a loser, Hannie?” 

Seungcheol teased, and Jeonghan glared at him, throwing a pillow at his friend.

“Shut up.”

A few days passed, and everything between you and Jeonghan was going smoothly, going on quick cafe dates in between classes, sharing lunch with your friends, or just spending time together in general. 

You were getting used to the whole boyfriend/girlfriend ordeal, not being used to having someone in your space besides your roommate. But you found yourself enjoying it more than you expected, liking the comfort of having someone to lean on for once. It felt lighter to have someone who could carry your burdens with you and vice versa.

It was a Friday afternoon, you had finished most of your lab work early and decided that Minghao had to go for the day because you wanted Jeonghan to stay over, and he just gave you an obvious look that meant ‘I know what you’re planning to do and I’m letting it slide’.

You were huddled up in a blanket, cuddling with Jeonghan on top of you while you played with his hair with one hand and read a book with the other, occasionally moving your hand from your boyfriend’s hair to flip a page. 

A soft grunt left your lips an hour into reading, prompting Jeonghan to move his head from your chest. “What is it?”

“Nothing… I mean, not nothing, I just don’t wanna move at the moment,” you grumbled softly as your cheeks burned. You didn’t want to ask him for it. No way.

“Do you need to pee or something—”

“No, no! It’s just…” You trailed off, your cheeks and ears dusting red as you tried to spit it out. “There’s a sex scene I don’t really get.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan murmured, causing you to flush further from embarrassment, before he tutted softly, “Well, that can’t do, can it? What’s the scene? Read it for me, baby.”

“O–oh, uh, okay…” You cleared your throat. “Harlan angled my hips, spreading my legs wide, teasing his cock against my slit before pushing in—”

“Okay, I got the gist of it, geez. I forgot most of those romance books of yours are in first person,” he grumbled before taking the book from you and placing it down on the coffee table before shifting slightly between your legs. “That’s just simple missionary, sweetheart. Why are you so confused?”

“Because there’s more, Hannie. Let me finish, will you?” You huffed, grabbing the book once more, and he chuckled before nodding. 

You cleared your throat again and continued, “Pushing in with one easy thrust, my pussy squelched from how wet he’d gotten me. I whined, trembling like a leaf as I pawed my enemy’s chest—”

“They’re enemies?” Jeonghan cut you off, gasping dramatically as you rolled your eyes and continued reading.

“—looking up at him so fucked out and dazed. He pumped his shaft into me a couple of times before flipping me around to my stomach without pulling out, burying my face into the pillows of my bed. He grabbed my hips up and started fucking me harder while muttering the lewdest things into my ear.”

You finished reading the part of the page, Jeonghan’s eyes half-lidded as he licked his lips. “I got the gist of it. You wanna…?”

Your thighs clenched around his hips, signalling him that you indeed wanted it. A soft groan left his lips as he slipped off the blanket from your bodies, his hands starting to roam along your hips and waist, pushing up the t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare breasts. He expected it, since the two of you were home, but he still enjoyed the sight. 

A whine left your lips when he leaned down, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, suckling and gently biting while he rubbed your other nipple with his thumb, switching between them so neither would feel neglected. Jeonghan continued his ministrations until you were panting and your nipples were wet, coated with his spit and aching with pleasure.

“Gonna fuck you better than what that dumb book described, mmkay?” Jeonghan crooned against your neck, yanking your shorts and panties down your legs, and throwing them on the floor. His hand ghosted over your wet slit, teasing you as he spread your pussy lips open, watching as your tight hole clenched around nothing and gushed with slick that drooled down to the leather of the couch.

“Hannie, please…”

“Hmm? What is it, pretty baby?” He cooed. “You need to be patient. I wanna take my sweet time with your sweet little cunt this time.”

“But–but, you were gonna show me—”

Jeonghan shushed you softly. “I said I’m going to fuck you better than what was described in your book. So, be a good girl and take what I give you, hm?”

You moaned at that, nodding as he touched you with reverent caresses, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before pushing two fingers into your wet heat, scissoring your sopping cunt as it squelched lewdly at his movements. Jeonghan stretched your inner walls, feeling them snugly flutter and wrap around his digits. His palm grazed your clit just right, pulling soft whines out of you as your thighs tightened around his hips.

Once he was satisfied playing with your sweet pussy, he pulled his fingers out before shoving them into his mouth and let out a groan. When he finished sucking off your juices from them, he smiled at you. “So sweet…”

Jeonghan didn’t waste any more time, shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He looked at you, begging and reaching out for him, so he decided against looking for condoms, and it wasn’t like he had any with him to begin with.

Lubricating himself with your slick, his cockhead nudged against your bundle of nerves a couple of times, causing your legs to tremble and twitch before Jeonghan finally lined himself up against your entrance. Due to how slippery your hole was, he easily slipped in, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he felt your raw cunt around his cock once more.

“Fuck, fuck—you feel so good… Your pussy is sucking my dick in so good, sweets.”

“Hannie—Jeonghan, fuck—I, I, hngh—”

You whined out, grasping the material of the oversized hoodie he was wearing before he quickly shed it, so that he could feel your nails against his skin. You nailed his upper back, causing Jeonghan to hiss in both pleasure and pain from the sharp sting. He then started gently rocking his hips into you, each deep thrust knocking the air out of your lungs. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes darted down to where the two of you were connected, and the sound of his cock bullying into your cunt was enough to make him grit his teeth and think of basketball statistics to prevent himself from coming way too quickly inside your spasming hole.

Jeonghan groaned your name softly, peppering soft kisses all over your neck and jaw before he flipped you onto your stomach without pulling out, just like what you had read in your book. Something about him easily manhandling you made your stomach flutter and your walls to squeeze around his dick as he pulled your hips up towards him, your ass up, while your face got buried in the throw pillows.

“This is what you wanted, right, baby? Getting fucked from behind like a pretty little thing in heat—” Jeonghan grunted softly as he grabbed the globes of your ass, the fat dimpling under his grip as he spread your cheeks apart to watch how his thick length filled you up. 

You could feel how his dick twitched inside you when he saw the messy white ring forming around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting slightly sloppier and harder as he licked his lips. Your moans were muffled but still loud enough to spur Jeonghan on and made him drive his cock deeper into you—hitting spots you couldn’t reach yourself. The way his tip grazed against your cervix made you squeal and push yourself back against him, your back arching slightly from pleasure.

One of Jeonghan’s hands let go of your ass cheek, moving down between your legs to rub on your neglected clit, making you keen out a whine and your hole to clench around him tightly. Your toes curled as the heat in your gut expanded and licked at your tingling nerves.

“Jeonghan—I’m… I think I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby, let go for me.” 

You whined at that, letting go as you let your orgasm crash through you, making your back arch further as you pushed yourself closer to him, as Jeonghan’s hips stuttered when your velvet walls milked him for his cum.

A choked grunt left his lips as he stilled his motions, burying himself deep inside you as he spilt hot, thick spurts of cum into your messy cunt. Air was knocked out of your lungs as you recovered slowly, hearing your heartbeat in your ears as your vision was slightly blurred from the overwhelming pleasure.

You whined in protest at the loss of Jeonghan’s cock when he pulled out. Turning your head, you saw him panting softly, watching your leaking hole as he pushed his cum back into your used cunt. That was when he tugged you, turning you around as both of you were leaning against your heels. He caressed your cheek and kissed you softly, leading you to sit on his lap as he leaned back against the couch until he was lying down, before pulling away.

“Sit on my face.”

The request caught you off guard, unsure about sitting on his face after he had just come inside you. But he seemed set on you sitting on his face, gently yanking your hips, causing you to grind on his abs accidentally. Your sensitive clit grazed his skin, and Jeonghan moaned at the mess you were making on his abdomen.

“A–are you sure-? I don’t—”

“I’m sure, sweets, ride my face. Let me clean that cute little pussy up.” His grip on your hips gently tightened before letting go, so that you could crawl over and hover your dripping cunt over his face. Before you could even stabilise yourself, Jeonghan pulled you down, his mouth latching onto your sensitive cunt immediately. He didn’t care about your mixed juices, only wanting you and your sweet wetness.

A moan left Jeonghan’s lips as he lapped you up, tongue flat against your slit as he messily made out with your cunt. You grasped onto his hair, tugging and gripping for support as you started to grind yourself against him, his nose nudging against your clit just right, your release building up faster than the last as soft mewls left your lips as your boyfriend cleaned you up. His grip on your ass tightened, eating your pussy out with increasing vigour as he felt you clench around his tongue.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave, toes curling as you wailed in pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed as your hips stuttered against his face. Once Jeonghan was done with drinking up your juices, he easily lifted you from his face, shifting you onto his lap before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I guess we broke the rule about fucking on the couch.”

The two of you went over to your room after the situation on the couch. Jeonghan was peacefully napping on your bed while you were silently admiring your boyfriend, playing with some strands of his hair. Noticing your sketchbook on your desk, you decided to grab it along with your pencil and eraser before you started to sketch.

Before you knew it, you had a sketch of Jeonghan with some details, smiling to yourself, and not noticing him stirring awake.

“Whatcha smiling about?” He rasped, his voice groggy after his nap. “Are you drawing?”

He seemed curious, so you showed him the sketch. Jeonghan’s eyes softened at the sight, in awe of the piece of art you had done in such a short time. “You’re talented, sweets.”

“Thank you… It’s something I took from my mother.” You smiled as you flipped through the pages, showing him more sketches, mostly of him, which surprised Jeonghan, but he was secretly very pleased.

After giving him a glimpse of your sketchbook, you closed it before placing it on your nightstand and huddling close to him. 

Jeonghan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, happy in your arms. “I love you.”

The confession was soft, but full of meaning, and you couldn’t help but hug him tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“I love you too, Hannie.”

“No take-backs. You love me.”

You could feel his grin against your skin, which made you roll your eyes before giggling.

“I do.”

FIN~

Taglist: @joshujin @wonushy @imissmyseventeen @bramos91

Still mid-call, you marched straight toward your office, listening to your warehouse officer explain that the warehouse was well-stocked and ready for the holiday rush and that everything would be fine. “I’m not asking for some words of affirmation, Joe. Show me that this confidence is not unfounded. I need updated numbers by lunchtime.”

It wasn’t until you pushed open the glass door that you finally ended the call, pinching the bridge of your nose for half a second before refocusing.

“Morning!” Becca said brightly, already there, already holding out your iced coffee like an offering.

You took it without slowing down. She fell into step beside you, launching into your schedule like she always did—meetings, contracts, things that needed signing before lunch, and ones that could wait until after. You dropped into your chair, skimmed the first page of the file she handed you. 

You were halfway through skimming the file when you noticed something in your periphery. You looked up and saw that there was a man standing just behind Becca. Tall. Good-looking. Broad-shouldered. Hands in his pockets. He was staring around your office like he had time to admire the view, eyes flicking over the shelves, the windows, the framed awards.

For a second, you wondered if you’d forgotten you were supposed to have a meeting with some model for your brand’s campaign.

You frowned. “Who’s your friend, Becca?”

“Oh—right! Sorry. This is—” She paused, then quickly nudged the man with her elbow

“I’m Vernon,” he said, smiling at you before Becca could finish. He gave a lazy little wave. “The intern.”

You blinked. The intern. He said it like this was a college club meeting. Or orientation. Or literally anywhere but here, where interns usually tried desperately not to be noticed. You stared at him. Then back at Becca. “Why is the intern in my office?”

Becca cleared her throat. “He’s the temp I told you about. He’ll be covering for me while I’m on maternity leave. Assisting you directly.”

You glanced back at him, unimpressed. “Is he ready for that?” you asked Becca.

“Yes. I walked him through everything,” she said quickly. “He’s picked it up really fast.”

 “So he knows this isn’t a light workload? Long hours, hectic schedules, all that?”

Before you could respond, Vernon leaned forward slightly.

“You can ask me, you know,” he said. “I’m right here.”

The room went very still.

You stared at him, more surprised than offended. Most interns shrank under eye contact. Apologized. Overexplained. This one had the audacity to interrupt you, like he wasn’t face-to-face with the person everyone else avoided before coffee. For a second, you couldn’t tell if he was clueless or if he just didn’t scare easily.

You didn’t like either option. “I won’t be needing you yet,” you said flatly. “You can go.”

Vernon didn’t argue. He simply nodded once, hands dropping from his pockets as he turned toward the door. “Alright.”

And then he left. The door clicked shut behind him. You and Becca stared at it for a moment.

You exhaled through your nose and picked up your pen. “What kind of temp did you get me?”

“He’s very competent. Just a little tactless at times. And he was once…” She hesitated. “…reported to HR for insubordination.”

“Insubordination?”

“Yeah, he was. But it was all a misunderstanding.” She paused for a second and then added, “Apparently, the way he talks pissed some people off. Which was why I thought he’d be perfect for this role.”

You slowly looked up from your paperwork. “What’s that supposed to mean?

Becca grimaced, then covered her mouth. “Okay. That—yeah. That was supposed to be an inside thought.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you went back to signing. “You’ve been working for me too long.”

She cleared her throat, tapping her tablet like she needed something to do with her hands. “Mr. Zhou just stepped into the lobby. Should we… um… go wait for him in the conference room?” she asked, already smiling.

“Fine,” you said, signing your name a little harder on the last paperwork. “But we’re unpacking that later.”

You were puzzled to see Vernon waiting by the car as soon as you stepped out of your office at noon. He looked out of place there, standing in a crisp set of suit and coat, looking like he was shooting an ad for Ralph Lauren. You were realizing in real time that he was unnecessarily too good-looking and too well-dressed to be someone’s errand boy.

He was holding Becca’s work tablet and the leather briefcase she’d usually brought to meetings.

“Where’s Becca?” you asked, not slowing down as you watched him open the car door for you.

“She’s gone,” he said, watching you settle onto the backseat. “Told me my secretary duties start today.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

Vernon blinked, confused. “Oh, you didn’t know? I thought she discussed this with you beforehand.”

You sighed, waved him off, and leaned back on the seat. As Vernon closed the door and rounded the car, you took your phone out and typed out an urgent message to Becca.

You: I’m docking your pay.

Vernon took the driver’s seat without ceremony, adjusted the mirror, and pulled into traffic. 

“Read the documents carefully,” you said without looking up. “And pay attention during the meeting.”

“I will,” he said. “To both.”

The car ride was quiet. You reviewed the agenda on your tablet while the city slid past the windows, aware of him in your periphery—too relaxed, but not sloppy. 

Your phone rang not even ten minutes into the ride and you sighed when you saw the caller ID. But answered anyway. “Hi, Grandma.”

“I just wanna remind you that you have a date this evening,” she said immediately. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

“No,” you replied. “I’m working.”

“You said that last week.”

“I was working last week too. I’m busy, Grandma. Right now, I’m heading out for a lunch meeting with suppliers.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re always working. You can’t keep postponing your life like this. Why do you always put that damn company first?”

You pressed your lips together. “Grandma, this was your company. You put me here.”

“Excuses. When will you have a husband?” she shot back. “Or children? I’m old and dying. Do you think time is gonna wait for me? I just want to see you settle down and be happy. Is that too much to ask?”

You looked out the window. “You’re healthy. You’re strong. You’re not going anywhere.”

You heard her exhale sharply on the other line, clearly annoyed now. “If you don’t come tonight, I’ll erase your name from my will. You won’t get a single penny from me.”

“You’ve been saying that for years,” you said evenly. “Need I remind you that you only have one living relative and it’s me?”

She huffed. “Don’t test me. I might just donate my whole fortune to charity. You must go this time. I swear this one is better than the previous dates. His name is Pa—”

“I love you,” you said, cutting her off. “I’ll call you later.”

You ended the call before she could respond.

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the soft click of the turn signal. You slipped your phone back into your bag and leaned farther into the seat, already compartmentalizing the conversation the way you always did.

You caught movement in the rearview mirror. Vernon was looking at you. “Persistent grandma?” he asked when your gazes met.

You sighed, unimpressed. “Eyes on the road.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, tone mild enough to be irritating.

You let the silence stretch after that, your attention returning to the tablet in your hands. You scrolled through the agenda, noting the points you wanted addressed, the concessions you were willing to make, and the ones you absolutely were not. Vernon drove without comment, smooth and calm, like he wasn’t ferrying someone who could fire him on a whim.

You glanced up again, studying his reflection this time with intention. The angle of his jaw. The familiarity you hadn’t been able to put a finger on ever since you saw his face.

“Have we met before?” you asked.

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “We went to the same university. And met once at a freshman party.”

That checked out. You’d seen enough of him around campus for his face to register, even now. You hummed, “Knew you looked familiar. You have an unforgettable face.”

That slipped out unintentionally, making you pause. You considered taking it back, but you ultimately just decided to roll with it. You cleared your throat. “I mean—well… Have you seen yourself?”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, glancing briefly at you. “I didn’t catch that.”

But the slight smirk on his lips told you that was a lie. You rolled your eyes, then watched him for another second. “If we went to uni at the same time,” you asked, “how are you still interning? At this age?”

He grinned. “Are you discriminating?"

“I’m just asking.”

“As my boss or as someone who knew me from college?”

You exhaled through your nose, realizing now that Becca wasn’t exaggerating when she said Vernon can be annoying for some. “Forget it,” you said.

He just smiled, focusing on driving. But a few moments later, he said, “I just got out of a slave contract with my previous employer.”

You looked up. “I assume that’s an exaggeration.”

“It could be,” he replied, shrugging. 

You didn’t comment. Some jobs did feel like that. You knew it, even if you’d never experienced it firsthand. You’d never been employed under someone, except when you interned for your Grandma, but even that was hardly employment. You’d always been your own boss.

The car slowed as the restaurant came into view. Vernon found a parking space easily. “We’re here,” he said as soon as the engine stopped.

You straightened, already stepping out of the vehicle. “They’re gonna give us the revised version of the contract from last time. Remember to go over it very, very carefully.”

“Got it,” he replied, gathering his things and fixing his coat as he stepped out of the car.

You paused, looked at him once with furrowed brows, then said, “Lose the coat.”

He blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just lose it,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “You’re gonna make these people think I brought a date to this meeting.”

The realization hit him a second later. “Oh.”

His ears turned red almost immediately, the color creeping up fast enough that it caught you off guard. He looked away, cleared his throat, and shrugged out of the coat with noticeably less confidence than he’d had five seconds ago.

“Right,” he said. “Okay.”

You didn’t respond. You were already walking.

He followed a step behind. You noticed the way he kept tugging at his sleeves, the way his shoulders squared like he was suddenly conscious about his posture. It didn’t slow him down, but it made him seem less casual and more shy.

You filed that thought in the far back of your mind and pushed open the restaurant door.

Vernon settled into his role faster than you’d anticipated. He learned your schedule within days, memorizing the gaps between meetings, the calls you always took walking, the ones you preferred, seated and uninterrupted. By the first week, he stopped asking what you needed and started having it ready before you spoke. Coffee appeared when you’d skipped breakfast. Documents were summarized and tabbed—never highlighted, because you hated highlights.

He remembered dates without reminders. Flagged clauses you would’ve circled anyway. Anticipated questions before clients finished asking them. He spoke only when necessary in meetings, and when he did, it was concise enough that no one dared interrupt him. 

“Your two o’clock wanted to move to three,” he said one morning, falling into step beside you as you walked down the hall. “Mr. Lee begged. Said something about traffic and divine intervention.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That divine intervention doesn’t outrank your calendar.”

You didn’t break stride. “Good.”

By the end of the second week, you—and everyone around you—had realized that you now have a second Becca, a more merciless one at that. People stopped going to you first. They went to Vernon. He filtered what mattered and killed what didn’t. When he brought you something, it was because it deserved your time. He filtered your calls ruthlessly. If something reached you, it mattered. If it didn’t, it never existed. People learned quickly that arguing with him was pointless; if Vernon said you were unavailable, then you were.

Occasionally, he tested his boundaries. Not in ways that interfered with work, but in tone.

“Do you always look like this when you’re thinking?” he asked once, watching you review a document.

You didn’t look up. “Like what.”

“Like you’re about to ruin someone’s life.”

You slid the folder toward him. “Page twelve.”

He glanced down, eyes scanning. “Ah,” he said. “There it is. I knew something was odd with this.”

In meetings, he was quiet, efficient, present without being intrusive. He passed notes when necessary, caught errors before they reached the table, and never spoke unless spoken to or unless you were about to walk into something avoidable.

“Clause eighteen,” he murmured once, sliding you a note.

You corrected the issue mid-sentence and moved on. Afterward, in the elevator, you said, “Good catch.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “Was that praise?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he said, grinning. “But I will cherish it.”

By the third week, he stopped flinching when you corrected him. By the fourth, he started correcting other people before you had to. He learned quickly what earned silence versus what earned a look. Silence meant he was safe. The look meant he had exactly one more word before his internship became a cautionary tale.

He respected that. Mostly.

“So,” he said once, handing you a folder, “do you want the bad news first or the worse news?”

You took the folder. “If you ever phrase it like that again, you’re fired.”

“Noted,” he said calmly. “Then I’ll just say this contract is trash.”

You looked up slowly. He met your gaze without flinching. “Respectfully.”

You skimmed the page. Then the next. Then the clause he’d marked with a single tab. It was, in fact, trash.

You closed the folder. “Schedule a call.”

“I already did.”

He had an irritating habit of leaning where he wasn’t supposed to. Doorframes. Desks. The back of chairs that did not belong to him. He never slouched in meetings, never interrupted, but outside of them, he carried himself like he wasn’t intimidated by anyone in the building.

Including you. Especially you.

“Do you actually read all of these,” he asked once, eyeing the stack of reports on your desk.

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

He paused. “I guess you’re not like those other nepo babies who—um… nevermind.”

You lifted your pen. “Finish that sentence, Secretary Chwe.”

“Nope,” he said, chuckling nervously and retreating a step. “I’m quite attached to my paycheck, you see.”

You rolled your eyes, but Vernon kept his grin. “When will you call me by my first name?”

Your brows furrowed. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, there’s Becca. You address her not only by her first name but by her nickname.”

You tutted, shaking your head and deciding to ignore his question entirely. “Go. I don’t need you right now,” you said, waving him away. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he chimed, walking away. You returned to your screen. You didn’t fire him.By the end of the month, Vernon no longer felt like a temporary replacement to your intuitive and reliable Becca. He felt like his own fixture. An irritating, unnecessarily good-looking, deeply unserious, but very competent fixture.

“Is that Armani?” you asked, just as Vernon turned the engine off. 

He glanced back at you, then at his coat. “I think so? I got this as a gift for my birthday.”

You chuckled, reaching for the door. “Your clothes are too expensive for an intern.”

You stepped out of the car, eyes blinking at the blinding building right in front of you. Vernon fell into step beside you not 30 seconds later, and you noticed that he’d taken off his coat.

“You should keep it on,” you said.

He tilted his head. “But wouldn’t it make them think you brought a date to the meeting?”

You shrugged. “Maybe, but these people are worth impressing. I’m heading inside first. You go get your coat and make yourself look good.”

You were inside the building for less than two minutes when you ran into someone that made your eyes twitch. He called your name from across the lobby, his voice ringing out annoyingly.

“Is that you?” he asked when he approached you. “Well, damn. It is you.”

“Carlo,” you acknowledged, offering a curt smile.

“Oh, so you remember me,” he grinned, his eyes roving from your head to your foot, then back up to your face again, not without pausing briefly on your chest. “It’s been a while, huh?”

You nodded once, polite and brief, already angling your body toward the other direction. “It has. If you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to a meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always busy,” he said, waving it off. “But who isn’t?” he added, laughing out loud.

He then launched into a recap of his life since the last time you’d seen him—his job, his connections, the people he knew, the Dubai prince he was chummy with, the places he’d been. It was all very impressive, apparently. You tried to interject twice. Both attempts failed. He spoke over you like it was muscle memory.

You remembered, dimly, the disastrous blind date your Grandmother had set you up on last year. Apparently Carlo was a friend’s son who was intelligent and sweet. You gave it a chance because you’d run out of excuses to decline. But Carlo was downright obnoxious. He was preposterous, talked only about himself, and after the date, he told every mutual acquaintance you both had that you were the reason why it never worked out after the first date—as if he didn’t blow up your phone asking for another chance after you refused to go on another date with him. He’d framed your refusal like a misunderstanding, and acted like persistence was a charm.

“So anyway,” he said, finally pausing just long enough to inhale, “I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner sometime. Catch up properly.”

You spotted Vernon a few steps away. “There you are, my love,” you called out with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

Vernon looked up at the sound of your voice, just as you crossed the distance and slipped your arm around his without asking, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. For a moment, you thought he might ask what was happening. But he looked at you and at the puzzled Carlo just nearby and seemed to understand the situation right away.

“Sorry,” you said, turning back to Carlo with an apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “What were you saying?”

Carlo took a step back, posture stiffening, his grin faltering as his eyes moved from Vernon’s face to his tailored clothes, then back to you. Whatever confidence he’d walked into the lobby with seemed to deflate all at once.

“Oh, by the way,” you began, turning to Vernon. “Have you met Carlo? He’s in the export business. And the son of Grandmama’s friend.”

Vernon didn’t miss a beat. He offered his hand. “Vernon,” he said pleasantly.

Carlo stared, shaking his hand. You smiled and said, “My fiancee.”

“Oh,” Carlo said. “Fiancée.”

“Yes,” you replied simply. You could already imagine how this little lie would spread among your mutual acquaintances and business spaces you shared with Carlo, given how loose-lipped he was. But all you could care about right now was getting him to leave you alone.

“Well—uh,” Carlo said, shaking Vernon’s hand a little too quickly. “Nice to meet you. You two look… great.” He stepped back, already glancing at his phone. “I should get going. Busy day. You know how it is.”

You watched him retreat without comment, hurrying through the lobby until he disappeared entirely. Only then did you exhale.

You loosened your grip on Vernon’s arm, turning toward him. “Thank you,” you began.

“Your fiancée?” said someone from behind you.

You immediately froze, recognizing the timbre, the authority, and the unmistakable tone of your Grandmother’s voice. 

You turned slowly and found her standing a few feet away, handbag tucked neatly under her arm, eyes sharp and clearly amused.

“Did I hear that right,” she said, her smile widening as her gaze flicked between you and Vernon, “or am I finally losing my hearing?”

Vernon, to his credit, didn’t move. Neither did you. And somewhere between the impulsive little lie and her grin, you realized that things were about to blow out of proportion.

“OMG, Grammy. You heard that? I’m sorry. This is my assistant. I only said he was my fiancée to get that obnoxious Carlo off my back.” 

You could have said that and gotten it over with. But you couldn’t. The delight on your grandmother’s face was too precious for you to shatter with the truth.  So here you were, sitting across from her for an impromptu family dinner, Vernon holding your hand beside you. 

You were usually the most intimidating person in any room you walked into. Boardrooms, negotiations, crowded halls full of people waiting for you to speak—none of it ever rattled you. But at that dinner table, you were painfully aware of your posture, your hands, the way your expression changed with every interaction.

Your grandmother had that effect on you. She was the only person who could ever make you nervous, especially when it involved major life decisions like this.

It didn’t help that she was beaming like she’d just won the lottery. Vernon, as it turned out, was the grandson of an old friend of hers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew my Grandma?” you had discreetly asked him earlier during the meeting with an investor, while your Grandmother watched from a few tables away.

She had insisted she’d wait until you finished the business meeting, and that was how you found yourselves trapped in this ‘family’ dinner.

“So,” she said, eyes bright as she looked between you and Vernon, “how did the two of you meet?”

You stiffened slightly, already bracing yourself. Vernon answered easily. “Oh, we met in college,” he said, reaching for his water. “We reconnected only recently when I started working for her.”

Your grandmother’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? And when did you start dating?”

You kept your gaze on your plate, listening. “About a month ago,” Vernon replied smoothly.

A month ago. You did the math immediately, your mind racing ahead of your body. That was the exact week he’d started working as your temporary assistant.

“And engaged already?” your grandmother said, delighted rather than suspicious.

Vernon nodded. “We didn’t see the point in waiting.”

She laughed, clapping her hands softly. “Oh, I love that. Life is too short to hesitate.” She turned to you then, eyes sharp and delighted. “So you mean to tell me you got engaged without telling me you were dating my best friend’s grandson?”

You opened your mouth, only to just close it again. Vernon cleared his throat. “It all happened rather quickly.”

“That’s what I love about it,” she said, waving a hand. “Destiny waits for no one,” she added, laughing.

You laughed too—awkwardly enough that you were sure you’d given it all away. You stared at the food on the table, suddenly finding your favorite dish from the best chef in the city unappetizing and dry.

“Does your family know?” she asked Vernon again.

Vernon hesitated, glancing at you for an answer. You had absolutely nothing to offer him. Not even a lie half-formed. So you lifted one shoulder, the smallest shrug you could manage.

He turned back to her and smiled. “Not yet. We wanted to keep it quiet for a while,” he said, shrugging lightly. “It hasn’t been very long. But I guess the secret’s out now that you know.”

Your grandmother looked like she might burst from excitement. “Oh, this is wonderful,” she said, already reaching for her phone. “They’ll be thrilled.”

You sat up straighter. “Grandma—”

“Wait,” Vernon said at the same time.

She waved both of you off, already dialing. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just tell them quickly.”

You watched in horror as she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?” she said brightly. “Yes, yes, it’s me. You’ll never guess what I just found out.”

You sank back into your chair, heart thudding.

She spoke excitedly, voice warm and loud enough that you caught pieces of the conversation—laughter, delighted exclaims, repeated congratulations. You could hear someone else speaking on the other end, just as excited.

You didn’t catch the names, but you didn’t need to. Whoever was on the other end was laughing too. Your grandmother kept nodding along, with soft mm-hmms and delighted sighs.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it either.” She glanced at the two of you, eyes shining. “They’re here with me right now.”

Vernon didn’t move. His hand was still resting near yours on the table, close enough but not quite touching. He looked composed, if a little too still, like he’d decided that reacting would only make things worse.

Your grandmother laughed again. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. Of course it makes sense. Haven’t you always said fate has terrible timing?”

She listened for a moment, then hummed approvingly. “Yes. I’ll tell them.”

She ended the call with a satisfied tap of her finger against the screen and set her phone down carefully, as if savoring the moment. “There,” she said, pleased. “They are over the moon.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose. “Grandma—”

“You never even told them that you were seeing someone, Vernon,” she added. “They’re insisting on dinner soon. All of us.”

“That might be difficult,” he said carefully. “With work and—”

“Oh, nonsense,” she interrupted. “You’ll make time. You always do for family.”

She smiled at you then, softer and fonder. “And you,” she said, “I’m gonna excuse the fact that you kept this a secret from me.”

You pressed your lips together, offering something that might have passed for a smile.

Across the table, your grandmother reached for her glass, perfectly satisfied. Beside you, Vernon shifted just enough that his knee brushed yours under the table. Neither of you commented on it. But you both understood the same thing at the exact same time.

This had officially gone too far to undo politely.

By the time you finally parted with your grandmother outside the restaurant, you were exhausted. Not the kind of tired you felt after negotiations or long meetings, but the slow, creeping kind that sank into your bones and stayed there.

You slid into the backseat as soon as Vernon opened the door for you, barely waiting for it to close before sinking back against the leather. The city lights blurred past the windows as the car pulled away from the curb.

“That,” you said, staring at the ceiling, “went so wrong so fast.”

Vernon huffed a small laugh from the driver’s seat. “That’s one way to put it.”

You dragged a hand down your face. “I just wanted Carlo to leave me alone. I didn’t plan on my grandmother calling half the city to announce my engagement.”

“She seemed… enthusiastic.”

“Oh, trust me. That was her being restrained,” you muttered. You straightened slightly, folding your arms. “You’ve been with me long enough to know how she takes my love life very, very seriously.”

The car stopped at a red light. Vernon glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “You could let her have it for a few days,” he said casually. “Then tell her it didn’t work out. People break up all the time. We haven’t been dating long anyway. It’ll be believable.”

You sighed, nodding. “That’s the plan.”

The light turned green, and he eased back into traffic. You watched the city slide past again, your reflection faint in the glass.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment. “For dragging you into this. For the phone call with your folks. For—” You waved a hand vaguely. “All of it.”

Vernon shrugged, eyes on the road. “It’s fine.”

You looked at him. “You don’t have to say that.”

“No really,” he replied. “I don’t mind. I’ll just consider it part of the job.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d hate the job if I were you.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Well,” he said, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve been dragged into for work.”

You snorted despite yourself. The car slowed in front of your apartment building. Vernon parked and turned the engine off. You stepped out of the car, the night air cool against your skin. Behind you, Vernon followed, just another assistant at your side.

That was all it was supposed to be.

“See you in the morning, boss,” he said, handing you your bag as you both stopped in front of the elevator.

You nodded. “See you in the morning, Secretary Chwe.”

He nodded back, then stepped closer—so suddenly that you barely had time to register it before he was right there, warmth and presence crowding your space. 

You froze, surprised by the proximity. For a split-second your mind was racing to process so many things at once—the closeness, the clean scent of his cologne, his steady breathing, and the way you’d been holding yours without realizing it.

Then his arm lifted past your shoulder. The elevator button clicked softly behind you.

“Oh,” you breathed, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Vernon pulled back, his expression unreadable for a second, before his mouth curved into a smile—one that made you pause. You’d seen that smile every day for the last few weeks, but this was the first time you’d found yourself completely disarmed by it.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and air rushed back into your lungs like you’d been underwater. You looked away first, stepping inside without a word. 

Vernon remained outside, one hand lifting in a wave. “Good night,” he said.

The doors closed between you, sealing him out, and the last thing you saw was that damn smile.

The very next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the nightstand. You squinted at the screen. Grandma.

“Oh my god, what now?” you grumbled, sitting up before answering. “Good morning,” you croaked, rubbing your eyes.

“Pack your bags,” she said immediately, skipping any niceties. “We’re going away for the holidays.”

“It’s still two weeks before Christmas, Grandmama.”

“Oh, honey,” she gushed. “We’ll be spending the holidays with Vernon’s family.”

You straightened up, swiping at the alarm that had somehow joined the chaos. “Excuse me?”

“Yes. For a week. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“A WEEK?!” you echoed loudly, standing up on your bed now, clutching a fistful of your hair. “Grandma, what do you mean a week? What… Where—WITH WHOM?”

“Okay, young lady. Calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re rambling like this.”

“Grandma, I can’t—I have work. There’s the holiday promos, the rush, meetings and deals. I literally can’t even disappear for a day, let alone a whole week.”

“You have competent employees for that. I’m sure they can handle it,” she said casually. “Besides, I checked your calendar and you don’t have anything major that requires your immediate attention. Surely you can pause your micromanaging for a few days?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, offended. “I don’t micromanage—ugh. Not the point,” you muttered, more to yourself.

You took a deep breath and sat back on the bed. “Listen, Grandma. I haven’t met his family yet. I haven’t even been introduced as his girlfriend yet. I can’t just show up as his fiancee out of nowhere.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said, waving the thought away like dust. “But this is exactly the right moment. It’s the holidays.”

You paused, genuinely bewildered. “How did this even happen?”

“Oh, my dear, this wasn’t my idea,” she replied, her voice lighting up. “Vernon’s grandmother insisted.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. “Grandma—”

“Pack your bags,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t argue with me. I’ve already told them you’re coming and I already took care of everything.”

Now here you were, sitting in your office, heels tapping impatiently on the marble floor, fingers drumming against the wood of your desk. Every five seconds, you checked the clock, willing Vernon to appear.

Finally, the office door slid open, and there he was, smiling so calmly like things hadn’t blown out of proportion already. “Oh, there you are!” You exhaled sharply. “I need you to act as my fiancée. Again.”

His brows furrowed, confused. “Why?”

“Surely your family’s told you by now that I am to spend the holidays with you?” you snapped, exasperation leaking into your tone.

He shrugged. “I’ve been told. But… you don’t have to. I can get you out of it if you really hate the idea.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “I don’t like the idea. But you know as well as I do that dissuading my grandmother is impossible.”

He chuckled lightly. “You’ve never let anyone tell you what to do.”

You snorted, leaning forward. “I’ll have you know that my grandmother can—and will—tell me what to do. Ghosting blind dates is a walk in the park, but things like this? Yeah. No way.”

Vernon hummed in acknowledgment. “She does seem like the formidable type.”

There was a moment of silence between you, one so comical you could hear the crickets in your head. “So?” you prompted. “Will you do it, or not?”

Vernon just shrugged, eyes still playful. “Do I get a raise?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated, but also relieved. “I’ll even make you a regular while I’m at it, Intern Chwe.”

Being the meticulous person you were, you drafted a contract days before the trip. Not a legal one, of course, but a set of rules you and Vernon both agreed to follow while pretending to be engaged. You and Vernon made it together and agreed to both of your conditions, especially involving physical intimacy.

You made a point to make sure holding hands and displays of affection were strictly in front of the family only. And of course no hugging unless absolutely necessary. There were clauses about sticking to an agreed context and backstory, and never answering major or intrusive questions without the other.

“How do you feel about sharing a bedroom?” he asked.

“Do we have to? Can’t I get my own guest room?”

Vernon shook his head. “You clearly don’t know my family at all. An engaged couple staying in separate bedrooms? They’re gonna be suspicious.”

That made sense. “Alright. But I’m taking the bed. You can have the couch. Or the floor. Whatever works.”

“Come on,” he said, mock-protesting. “It’s my house. I should get the bed.”

“And I’m your boss,” you countered. “Rule number five will be, I always win.”

“Now you’re just power tripping.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Fifth clause. Very important.”

Vernon raised an eyebrow at said clause about ‘no kissing or hugging’. “Exceptions?” he asked casually. “Christmas games, dances, mistletoe… maybe a moment of festive goodwill?”

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly. “Exceptions are only if the world is literally ending. Or someone dies. Or—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were overexplaining. “Just don’t ask for exceptions.”

Vernon nodded, taking that in stride. “But the situation could call for a hug, you know?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just not.”

“Fine. But I’m telling you, my family will notice.”

“Just what kind of family do you have?”

Apparently, the kind who were affectionate and close, and took Christmas very seriously.

Days later, you boarded a plane with your grandmother practically vibrating with excitement beside you. She chatted the entire time—about the food, about the weather, about how nice it was that you were finally dating and thinking of marriage—while you nodded along, occasionally exchanging looks with Vernon over the divider between your seats. Thankfully, first class gave you just enough privacy that you didn’t have to perform more than absolutely necessary.

When you landed, the cold winter air hit you first, stinging your cheek. You’d barely stepped outside the terminal when a pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of you, horn honking cheerfully.

A jolly older man hopped out, grinning wide. “You must be exhausted,” he said warmly, eyes immediately landing on your grandmother. “It’s been too long.”

Her face lit up in a way you didn’t see very often these days. “Look at you,” she said, holding his arm affectionately. “All grown up.”

They hugged like no time had passed at all. Behind you, Vernon carefully placed a coat over your shoulder, its warmth engulfing you almost immediately. Then he leaned in slightly, one hand still on your shoulder. “That’s my uncle.”

Vernon introduced you and you offered a hand for a shake. “Lovely to meet you.”

The entire drive into town was filled with laughter and reminiscing, stories bouncing back and forth like they’d only seen each other yesterday instead of decades ago. Apparently, his uncle had spent a good portion of his childhood around your grandmother, running around while the adults talked business and dreams and things far too big for children to understand.

You watched your grandmother from the backseat, her smile so soft and sweet, and felt something warm settle in your chest.

“Just how long have you known this family?” you asked her, half-teasing.

Vernon’s uncle laughed before she could answer. “Oh, longer than me,” he said easily. “Her and my Ma go way back. Back when I wasn’t even born yet.”

She nodded fondly. “We were already friends when we both had nothing,” she said. “We used to talk about what we’d do one day, when life finally got easier. Now, we have money. But we’re both too busy to see each other.”

You hummed, thoughtful, eyes drifting out the window. A moment later, curiosity got the better of you. You turned slightly toward Vernon. “I don’t think you’ve told me what your family does?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Merchandising.”

That was vague. You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could press further, his uncle laughed and pointed ahead, where a tall building rose proudly in the middle of the city square. It stretched for blocks, glass gleaming even under the sky.

“That,” he said, clearly pleased, “is what my dear mother—Vernon’s grandma—built from the ground up.”

Your breath caught. It was a shopping mall. Not just any mall, either. You recognized the name immediately. You’d seen more than a few of them back home, even had business with them!

Slowly, you turned to look at Vernon, scanning him from head to toe like you were seeing him for the first time.

He noticed. “What?”

“Merchandising?” you said flatly.

He shrugged again, entirely unapologetic. You leaned back in your seat, stunned, eyes flicking back to the building as it disappeared behind you.

Great. Of course you’d accidentally gotten fake-engaged into another powerful family.

When the truck finally came to a stop, you stepped down onto solid ground and immediately turned to Vernon, catching him by the sleeve before he could move too far ahead.

“Wait,” you said under your breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you were rich?”

He blinked, genuinely taken aback. “What?”

“That mall,” you said flatly. “The one your family runs. You don’t just forget to mention that, not when you know we’re retail partners with them.”

Vernon huffed a laugh. “You never asked. And besides, I’m not rich. My family is.”

You stared at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” he said mildly. “Just not one you like.”

You scoffed, lowering your voice even further. “Then why are you working as an intern? In my company. For—” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “minimum pay and maximum suffering?”

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something but his uncle’s voice came booming from a few steps away. “Vernon!”

He looked over his shoulder. “Coming,” he replied easily, then glanced back at you. “Come on.”

You followed them down the pier, heels clicking against weathered wood as the sea air wrapped around you. Only when you reached the edge did you finally understand why everyone had stopped.

A sailboat waited at the dock, white and pristine, bobbing gently against the water. You slowed to a stop. “Why are we getting on a boat?”

Vernon glanced at the sailboat, then back at you, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “My family thinks we’re better than everyone else,” he said, “so they bought a whole island and decided to live far away from the commoners.”

You stopped walking altogether. “I’m sorry—what?”

His uncle let out a bark of laughter, clapping a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “That’s not true at all,” he said. “We didn’t move there. It’s just for family gatherings. Holidays. Reunions. That sort of thing.”

“And no, we don’t own the whole island,” his uncle added, looking out into the horizon, one hand on his hip. “Only half of it.”

Like that made it less unreasonable.

You’d spent years thinking your grandmother was extravagant—buying properties she rarely stayed in, collecting things simply because she could. But apparently, somewhere two thousand miles away, another woman had been doing the exact same thing.

No wonder they’re friends.

Vernon hovered beside you now, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence without looking at him. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You opened your eyes. “I’m fine.”

He smiled at that, then held a hand out toward you. You hesitated for half a second, narrowing your eyes at him, then just as quickly, remembered the whole happily in love act had officially begun. So you took his hand and let him help you aboard the boat. 

You had a feeling this week is going to be a lot harder than you’d anticipated.

The ride out to the island was mercifully short. The boat cut smoothly across the water, cold wind biting at your cheeks until your eyes watered. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, breath fogging faintly in front of you.

Someone was already waiting there. A girl stood at the edge of the dock, bundled in a thick coat and scarf, waving with both arms like she didn’t feel the cold at all.

“That’s my sister,” Vernon said beside you. “Sofia.”

The moment your feet hit the dock, Sofia made a beeline for him, throwing her arms around his neck without hesitation. “You’re alive,” she said dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”

Vernon laughed, hugging her back. “You facetimed me three days ago.”

“Three days is a long time,” she shot back, then said something else under her breath that made him groan and flick her forehead lightly. You didn’t catch the words, but the sight of their teasing and laughter made your chest feel oddly warm.

Then Vernon turned slightly and gestured toward you. “This is—” He paused for half a second, then continued smoothly. “My girlfriend.”

Sofia’s eyes snapped to you, sharp and curious, then widened with unmistakable delight. “Girlfriend,” she said slowly, grinning mischievously. “That’s not what I heard,” she added in a sing-song.

Vernon sighed. “Please be normal. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Welcome,” Sofia said cheerfully, offering a hug which you returned awkwardly. Then she pulled back just enough to study your face. “Wow. You’re very pretty. Why would you wanna marry that guy?”

“Alright,” Vernon interjected, tugging Sofia  from behind by her jacket collar. “That’s enough. Go away.”

“What? I think she’s too good for you.” She turned to you. “You sure you don’t wanna change your mind?”

“Stop,” he chided softly, chuckling, “Don’t discourage her. She might just change her mind. Nothing’s decided yet.”

“Oh, what nonsense.”

The voice came from behind Sofia—calm, amused, unmistakably unimpressed. A woman stepped forward, elegant in every sense of the word, eyes narrowing playfully as she looked Vernon over.

“You left a perfectly good position in the family business saying you wanted to fend for yourself,” she continued, “and now you come home with a fiancée?” Her lips curved into a smile. “You didn’t even wait a year before crawling back.”

You were taken aback, instinctively scooting closer to Vernon after what you heard. In your mind, you were wondering who this was and why she seemed to dislike him.

But beside you, Vernon merely sighed, shook his head in exasperation, and told you, “This is my mom.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off-guard. Then it immediately clicked that this might be how they normally talked to each other, and all in good fun, you assumed.

His mother didn’t give you much time to dwell on it. Her attention shifted to you immediately, her expression softening as she stepped closer and pulled you into a hug before you could react.

“Oh,” you exclaimed. Behind her, you mouthed to Vernon, ’Is this normal?’

He just shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. “Welcome,” she said warmly. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

You laughed softly, a little breathless, returning the hug despite the nerves curling in your stomach. And then everything moved at once.

You were ushered forward, names thrown at you faster than you could catch them—aunts, cousins, someone’s partner, someone else’s child—smiles and greetings blurring together as you were guided further into the property. The words ‘Vernon’s fiancee’ kept echoing in your ears, and you felt a little lightheaded as you realized that lie felt bigger by the second, ballooning with every new face and every fond look directed your way.

Warm air hit you the moment you stepped inside the house, carrying the smell of food and something sweet. It was massive, but you barely had time to take it in before you heard someone call out your grandmother’s nickname.

“Oh my goodness,” a voice exclaimed, followed by hurried footsteps.

An elderly woman appeared with her arms already open, and your grandmother’s face lit up like a sunrise. They met in the middle of the room, hugging tightly, laughing, talking over each other all at once.

You watched them fondly, feeling warm all over and knowing it wasn’t because of the central heating. Then the noise swelled again around you, and you were being pulled into a hug by Vernon’s grandmother who had affectionately asked you to call her ‘Nana’.

Eventually—somehow—you and Vernon finally escaped everybody’s attention and you found yourself trailing behind him aas he led you down a quieter hallway. You passed through wide corridors, went up several flights of staircases, before he finally stopped in front of a wooden door that looked like every other one in the hall.

“Come on in,” he said, pushing the door open and letting you step inside first.

The room was spacious, sunlight spilling through tall windowsr. A queen-sized bed sat at the center, dressed in crisp white linens under fluffy navy blue duvets. A thick rug covered the hardwood floor, and a small writing desk sat neatly in the corner. A fireplace along one wall had a few framed family photos on its mantle. There was also a couch just in front of the fireplace, and you noticed a subtle scent of pine and cinnamon lingering faintly in the room.

“How big is your family?” you asked, your gaze drifting around, taking in the comfort and scale of the space.

“Not very,” he said, hauling the last of your luggage over to the corner and setting it down with ease. “Nana has five kids, all married with kids. And most of my older cousins are married too, so I’ve got eight nieces and nephews.”

“Wow. Are there like, thirty of you?”

“Almost thirty,” he said, shrugging, a small smile tugging at his lips. “If everyone comes home for the holidays this year, you’re looking at twenty-eight Chwes under one roof.”

“That’s a lot of people,” you murmured, scanning the room.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Well, my dad was an only child who had only one kid,” you replied, leaning slightly against the desk. “So, no aunts and uncles for me. No horde of cousins either.”

Vernon glanced at you from the doorway, tilting his head slightly. “Right, why didn’t your parents come here with you? I assume they’re thrilled that their only child is engaged.”

You froze, realizing in that moment that you’d never actually told him your parents had passed. Before you could answer, a sharp knock came at the door, swinging open just as quickly without really waiting for anyone to respond.

“Hello! I hope I’m not disturbing anything,” a warm, lively voice called out. Vernon’s mother stepped inside, carrying a tray laden with small snacks and a thermos of tea.

“No. We were just settling in,” you answered, trying to sound normal.

“I figured you’d be hungry after that long journey,” she said brightly, setting the tray down. She turned her gaze on you, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “How are you feeling? You’ve traveled so far! Are you comfortable? Did you eat enough on the plane? Oh, do you like sweets?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, blinking at the rapid-fire questions, completely overwhelmed.

“Oh, and I’m so sorry about the chaos,” she said, smiling as she poured tea into the teacup. “Our family tends to overreact. Especially with Vernon being the only man in the family who hasn’t married yet. Everyone’s just excited to meet you.”

You felt a genuine warmth spread through your chest. “Thank you,” you said softly, taking a small step closer to accept the cup she was offering.

“And how is my son? Is he good to you? Does he treat you well?”

“Oh, he’s… wonderful. He takes care of everything for me,” you replied, and in a way, what you said was true.

“As he should,” she chimed, looking proud. “He must have been really good to you for you to decide to get married shortly after dating. OH!” She exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat. “You haven’t shown us your engagement ring yet!”

You froze, eyes flitting to Vernon across the room. He too looked surprised. You were both realizing in real-time that you had forgotten one, if not the most important thing about this whole engagement thing.

The damn ring!

“Is this it?” his mother asked, reaching for your hand where your default favorite ring to wear wrapped daintily on your finger.

You glanced sideways at Vernon, your expression screaming Help me.

“Alright, Mom, we’re tired. We need some rest. Please give us some space,” said Vernon, walking over and gently tugging her mom away from you.

“Oh, fine,” she said, still beaming as her son dragged her all the way out of the door. “But you need to tell me everything later!”

“Okay, bye-bye,” Vernon said before closing the door to her face.

The silence that followed was like a breath of fresh air. You slumped onto the couch, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I can’t believe you forgot about the ring.”

“Nah, I think that’s on you,” he said casually, sitting on the edge of the bed. “This whole thing was your idea. You should have known getting engaged includes getting a ring.”

“Are you saying you didn’t know that?”

Vernon paused, head tilting, deep in thought. You sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. Where’s the contract? Let’s go over it one more time.”

Vernon laid it out on the desk and went through the rules you’d carefully set up—holding hands only in front of family, no hugging, no kissing, agreed backstory, a clear understanding of what questions could be answered and which ones required a unanimous decision, and most importantly, telling everyone after the holidays that things didn’t work out and you had to break up.

You came to the clause about the bed, and after a short discussion, agreed to alternate each night between the bed and the couch. 

“Alright, get some rest,” he said after, standing up and walking toward the door. “maybe a shower if you’d like.”

You raised a hand. “Wait, where are you going? You’re not allowed to leave me alone. It’s in the contract. Rule number eight.”

His brows furrowed. “You okay about me being in the room while you shower and get dressed?”

Your cheeks heat up instantly. “Okay. You can go,” you said calmly.

He chuckled softly, hands in his pockets, turning to the door again. “I’ll just check out the field, see what’s there to expect. Don’t worry. I won’t be long,” he beamed, giving a small wave before closing the door.

By the end of that night, the engagement ring situation had been settled. You’d stared down at the ring already on your finger and said, “We can just say this is it.”

Vernon had squinted at it, thoughtful. “It doesn’t look like an engagement ring.”

You lifted your chin. “It does. The rock is a diamond. Just smaller than what engagement rings usually have. Do you have a better idea?” you shot back.

He didn’t. So that was that. The ring was promoted on the spot, its significance upgraded without its consent, and you both agreed never to question it again unless absolutely necessary. Preferably never.

And then the week began and nothing could have prepared you for what the holidays looked like in his family.

It was loud. Doors were always opening, someone was always calling out from another room, laughter echoing down hallways. There were meals that turned into three-hour affairs, dishes clattering, voices overlapping, debates breaking out over the most insignificant things. Someone was always touching someone else—an arm around a shoulder, fingers laced together, hair ruffled in passing. Affection here wasn’t saved for special moments. It was everywhere.

It was nothing like the holidays you knew.

Christmas, to you, had always been quiet. A peaceful dinner with your grandmother. Soft music playing in the background. Catching up, exchanging gifts, sitting side by side on the couch with wine glasses until you both got sleepy and called it a night.

Here, Christmas started days early and showed no signs of slowing down.

You were fed constantly. Asked questions constantly. Complimented, hugged, pulled into conversations you barely understood, handed drinks you didn’t ask for. At some point, someone insisted you had to try a dessert because it was “Vernon’s favorite growing up,” and suddenly he was there beside you, watching your reaction.

That was another problem entirely. Vernon was a little too good at this.

He held your hand casually, like it was second nature. Thumb brushing over your knuckles without thinking. He leaned in when people spoke to you, an arm slipping around your waist like muscle memory. He remembered to pull out your chair, to pass you food first, to check if you were cold before grabbing you a sweater.

None of it felt forced. If anything, you were the awkward one. “How are you so good at this?”

He glanced at you, amused. “Good at what?”

“This,” you said vaguely, gesturing between the two of you. “The loving boyfriend thing. It’s weird!”

His mouth twitched. “Would you rather I be awkward and obvious like you?”

You scoffed. “I am not obvious.”

“You flinch every time I touch you.”

“That’s because you don’t give me a heads up,” you hissed.

He just smiled, infuriatingly smug, and reached for your hand again as someone walked past. “Real couples don’t need a heads up for something like this,” he said, lifting your joined hands, then pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“What are you doing?” you deadpanned, but the smile on his lips remained.

“Nana and your grandma are looking right at us,” he said.

You turned your head to said direction, and found that they were, in fact, not looking. You scoffed, pulled your hand back and glared at him. “I’m docking your pay for this month.”

“You really think I need it?” he asked smugly, spreading his arms in a grand gesture.

You grimaced, taken aback by an arrogance you’d never seen in him before. “Stop. It’s your family’s, not yours.”

“Well, I’m part of this family, so…” he replied, shrugging arrogantly. You snorted, rolling your eyes but not denying your laugh.

Vernon has always been popular in your company. You noticed that much after weeks of having him beside you everyday. People were always ogling him, heads turned whenever he passed by, followed by giggles and dreamy sighs. It was different from when it was just you. Most of the time, people tried to avoid eye contact with you and turned the other way when they saw you coming.

Of course you knew why he was popular—it has all to do with his good-looks. You tried, but you could never deny that his appearance was, in fact, out of this world. Not to mention he’s tall, has good genes, and is intelligent. But other than that, there wasn’t much you could say about him as a person. You didn’t really know what he was like outside of work, after all. You never paid him that much attention unless he was giving you a rundown of the day’s agenda.

But here, in his home, surrounded by his family, you started noticing him more—not as your assistant, not even as your fake fiancée—but as someone in his own world. You saw the way he laughed freely here, all toothy and loud. The way he let his nieces climb all over him, how he listened when his grandmother spoke, how his mother scolded him and kissed his cheek in the same breath.

He was warm here. Soft and gentle in a way you’d never seen at work. And he was always close to you. His hand would find the small of your back in crowded rooms. He’d tuck you in beside him on couches, offer you food before himself, glance at you like he was checking if you were still okay. Sometimes you caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking, his eyes gentle and unreadable.

You told yourself it was part of the act. But as the days passed, surrounded by noise and laughter and far too much affection, you started feeling like you were the one pretending the hardest.

“You ready?” he asked on the morning of the 23rd.

You’d just finished touching up your makeup. “Yes.”

“Okay good. Let’s go. Everyone’s waiting.”

You hesitated, retracting your hand when he reached for it. Vernon looked at you like he was over it. “Well? Come on then.”

“It’s just…” you huffed, gesturing vaguely. “It’s a family pictorial. I’m not exactly… family.”

Vernon chuckled, reaching for your hand again. “We’ve talked about this. It’s not that deep.”

Except it was. You couldn’t fathom how Vernon could be so calm about this whole thing. Not just the family pictorial, but the whole sham of an engagement you two were in. 

“I can hear you thinking. Stop that,” he prompted, tugging you by the hand, all the way out of the bedroom.

The house was full. Not metaphorically—literally full. Every bedroom was occupied, couches were claimed, extra chairs pulled out from storage, voices overlapping in every corner of the house. The entire family had arrived, cousins and partners and children. You’d naturally been absorbed into it, everyone’s basically been treating you like family.

They had a tradition, apparently. A family photo every Christmas. Same spot, same arrangement, different years. It was said to always happen every morning of the 23rd, two days before Christmas. And everyone took it seriously, dressing up with intent and looking their best.

“You can’t not join,” Vernon reminded you, steering you toward the center of the room. “That’d be weird. Am I supposed to tell everyone, ‘this is a fake engagement so she’s skipping out’?”

You lowered your voice as people shuffled around you, calling names, arguing about height order. “That’s the thing. This is fake and temporary, but the photo we’re taking is gonna live forever in your family albums. Immortalized and revisited every year.”

He laughed softly, like it hadn’t even occurred to him that this could be a problem. “If you really feel that bad about it,” he said, shrugging, “you could always marry me for real. Clear your conscience.”

You gave him a deadpan look. He simply grinned, completely unrepentant, then gently nudged you forward as someone called his name again. 

By then, it was too late to back out. You let yourself be placed beside him, his arm slipping easily around your back like it belonged there.

The camera flashed.And just like that, this Christmas was immortalized as the year Vernon brought home a girl. If you didn’t get caught in the lie, then it would be the year he brought home a fiancée and things didn’t work out. If you did get caught, then it would still be the year he brought home a fiancée, but a fake one.Either way. It would be humiliating for him.

You thought that would be the end of it. But later, after breakfast, when the living room had devolved into noise and laughter and people sprawled across every available surface, Sofia pulled out a Polaroid camera.

“Oh, we’re doing couples,” she announced. “This is non-negotiable.”

Groans followed, and some cheers. You felt Vernon’s hand find yours before you’d even fully processed what was happening, his fingers lacing with yours like muscle memory.

“You weren’t kidding,” you muttered under your breath. “Your family really does love each other.”

“You love us too,” he murmured back, grinning.

“I’ve known you people for a week,” you retorted, scoffing. But then, looking around, you added, “But yeah. You guys are cool.”

You were herded onto the couch together, shoulders pressed close. Sofia crouched in front of you, aiming the camera. She looked into the camera, then at the two of you, brows furrowed.

“Are you guys really dating?” she asked, and you felt your heart drop to the floor. For a second, you wondered if you got caught, but then she added, “Scoot closer. This isn’t the 1800s.”

You chuckled and it came out strained. Vernon’s arm snaked around your waist, making you stiffen and glance at him. He gave it a gentle squeeze, urging you to relax. So you tried.

“Kiss!” someone shouted from behind, followed by a chorus of hoots and whistles.

“That’s enough,” Vernon said lightly, but firmly. “You’re not getting a show.”

There were groans. Booing. Someone yelled that he was no fun. He just shrugged like none of it bothered him.

“Smile!” Sofia prompted.

You smiled without thinking. Then the camera clicked, and the photo slid out with a soft whirr.

Vernon didn’t move right away. Neither did you. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, eyes gleaming, a smile playing on his lips. You stared back, brows furrowing, confused at the attention he was giving you.

You waited a second. Then another. The smile on his lips didn’t change, it just stayed there, sweet and knowing, like he was in on something you weren’t.

Heat crept up your neck. You shifted slightly on the couch, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting, of his arm still resting behind you. “Why are you staring at me?”

He hummed softly, like he was thinking about it. But he still didn’t answer. So you stopped looking away. If he was going to stare, then fine. You could stare too.

But that was a bad idea. The noise around you slowly faded while you held his gaze, your heart thudding louder and louder with every passing second. His expression changed then, and you couldn’t tell what it meant. It was something between amusement and surprise.

Click!

You both broke at the sound, turning toward his sister.

“Oh,” Sofia said, already sprinting toward the tree just across the room. “This one’s going on the tree!”

Everyone eventually drifted off to do their own thing. The kids bundled themselves up and tore out into the snow, their shrieks of laughter muffled by scarves and knit hats. You stayed inside, lounging on one of the couches near the wide living room windows, a warm mug cradled between your palms as you watched them tumble and recover and tumble again.

Nana sat beside you with a knitted blanket over her lap, while your grandma sat across from you, glasses perched low on her nose.

“They used to do that too,” your grandma said fondly, nodding toward the window. “Run around like little monsters until we had to drag them back inside.”

You smiled. “Who?”

“Your father,” Nana replied with a smile. “And my kids. Every summer, without fail. They’d come stay here for weeks. This place was a rental at the time. We didn’t have enough money yet to purchase it.”

Your attention sharpened. You hadn’t heard much about that time—just fragments, half-remembered anecdotes your grandmother would mention in passing.

“Oh yes,” your grandmother chimed in. “We saved up a few months of salary just to rent this out for summer,” she added, laughing heartily.

Nana nodded, looking outside. “They were inseparable. Always muddy, always hungry. Your father was so polite, though. Even as a boy.”

Grandma chuckled. “Polite until he got comfortable.”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising you. “That sounds like him.”

“They were happy summers,” Nana continued, her voice warm with memory. “Those were good days. This place witnessed those kids grow up. Your mom and dad got engaged here.”

The room fell into a gentle hush, that subtle heaviness creeping in. You knew it all too well. It always happened whenever your parents were brought into the conversation. Nana reached out and patted your knee, her touch gentle and affectionate.

“You must miss them very much,” she said softly.

You swallowed, then nodded. “I do. But it’s okay. Really.” You managed a small smile. “I was young. I barely remember some things.”

That wasn’t entirely true—but it was the version you’d learned to give people, the one that made them stop looking at you like you might shatter.

Nana studied you for a moment, eyes kind but knowing. “Still,” she said, “we’re glad you’re here. You’re family too, you know.”

You blinked, throat tightening unexpectedly. “Thank you,” you said, meaning it more than you could explain.

Then, as if sensing the mood had sunk too low, your grandma straightened a little and clapped her hands together lightly. “Well! Speaking of family,” she said brightly, “have you two thought about where you’ll get married?”

“I—what?” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” your grandma laughed. “This is not an unexpected subject.”

You chuckled awkwardly. “No. No, it’s not. I just—we… Vernon and I haven’t discussed it yet.”

“But you’re gonna get married anyway, aren’t you?” Nana asked, placing a hand on your arm. “Why wait? You could do it here. After Christmas. The snow would be beautiful.”

“Oh, I love winter weddings,” your grandma gushed.

“I do too!” Nana agreed, also gushing. “My youngest had one and it was majestic!”

Your mind scrambled, panic blooming fast. After Christmas? Here? You could practically feel the lie ballooning again, threatening to burst.

“I think that might be a little—” you started, glancing desperately around the room, looking for Vernon.

“Oh, of course we’ll leave that up to you two,” said Nana, giggling. “But think about it and let us know. I know a good organizer who can give us an amazing event in short notice.”

Right on cue, the front door opened. Cold air rushed in along with laughter, Vernon’s uncle stomping snow off his boots as Vernon followed behind him, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Perfect conditions out there,” his uncle announced cheerfully. “Snow uphill is just right. We can go sledding today!”

The kids immediately erupted, cheers echoing through the house. Vernon’s gaze flicked to you, taking you in—your posture, your pallid face and horrified expression—and quickly understood that you needed him.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted, kissing his Nana on the cheek and your grandma too. “I hope you’re not bullying my fiancee.”

They both chuckled, waving their hands. “Oh, we’re just talking,” Nana said, smiling. 

Vernon turned to you. “Wanna go sledding?”

“Yes,” you exclaimed with enthusiasm, not because you wanted to go but because you couldn’t wait to get out of there. “I love sledding.”

“Then we should go before they destroy the hill,” he smiled, offering a hand.

Nana laughed, waving a hand. “Go on, go. We’ll talk weddings later.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet standing up. Vernon fell into step beside you as you walked toward the main door, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You okay?”

“Pretty sure I was this close to spontaneously combusting,” you whispered back. “But yeah. I’m okay.”

Outside, the cold bit through your coat immediately. The sky was pale and endless, the snow untouched and glittering. Laughter was echoing from the hill as kids dragged sleds uphill.

Vernon handed you a pair of gloves without comment. You took them automatically, slipping them on. “Our grandmas suggested we get married here, just after Christmas. Apparently they both love winter weddings.”

“Oh, wow. What did you say to that?” he asked, walking over to fix your bonnet.

You scoffed, then rolled your eyes, letting him tie the laces of your bonnet under your chin. “What do you think? Couldn’t even get a word in. They were taking a mile a minute.”

He chuckled softly, patting your head after he was done with the laces. “Don’t mind them. Ultimately, the decision would be up to us. They can’t force us to do anything.”

You hummed to that, agreeing. Then you looked up at his hand, still sitting on your head. “You’re getting comfortable, Secretary Chwe.”

He grinned, defiant, not moving his hand away as he leaned down to say, “Except I’m not Secretary Chwe right now. I’m your baby.”

You grimaced, swatting his hand away. “Ew. As if.”

“Ah, it wasn’t ‘baby’. What was it, again?” he teased, walking backward. “My love, was it?”

You scowled, running after him to hit him. But he dodged easily. “You’re so annoying. I’m firing you first thing when we get back.”

“No, you won’t,” he grinned, holding out a hand. “You’re not gonna find a secretary who can do better than me.”

You scoffed, but you knew he was right. “Only for now,” you retorted. “As soon as Becca’s back, you’re out,” you added, then took his hand and followed him into the snow.

Sledding, apparently, was a two-person activity. You found that out only after everyone had already scattered across the hill, pairs forming naturally.

“Oh, I’m good,” you said quickly, hanging back near the fence. “I’ll just… watch.”

Vernon turned toward you, breath fogging in the cold. “You don’t wanna try?”

“I’m perfectly content being moral support,” you replied, hands tucked into your coat sleeves. “Very enthusiastic moral support.”

“Come on. It’s fun. You’re gonna love it,” he offered, smiling. Then he held a hand out to you, palm up.

“C’mon,” he said again. “One ride.”

You hesitated. You really did. You even glanced back toward the house, like the contract might physically manifest and slap his hand away for you. But then he tilted his head slightly, arm still extended, that stupid smile on his lips, and you sighed.

“Fine,” you muttered, stepping forward. “But hands around me is against the rules.”

He lifted a brow. “We’re sledding. I have to hold you.”

You considered that for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Compromise.”

You followed him, letting him guide you toward one of the sleds waiting at the top of the hill. The snow was packed down from use. You sat down first, legs tucked in, bracing yourself.

Vernon climbed on behind you and you stiffened immediately as his knees bracketed your hips, your back pressing flush against his chest through layers of winter coats.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice too close to your ear that it made the hair on your neck rise.

“I am relaxed,” you blurted, which was a blatant lie.

His hands hovered for a second, like he was giving you time to object. When you didn’t, he placed them carefully at your sides instead of fully around you, fingers gripping the edge of the sled.

“See?” he whispered in your ear, and you felt that in the way your heart started racing. “No rules broken.”

Your heart was already pounding like you were halfway down the hill. “Just… don’t move them,” you warned.

“I won’t.”

The sled jerked forward. Snow rushed past in a blur as gravity took over, the world tilting, the cold air biting at your cheeks. You gasped, half-laughing, half-panicking as the speed picked up.

Behind you, Vernon laughed too, his breath warm where it brushed your ear. The sled hit a small bump, and you jolted back instinctively. His arm tightened at your side—not wrapping, but close enough that you felt it anyway.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah!” you replied, grinning so hard as the wind whipped against your face.

When the sled finally slowed at the bottom of the hill, snow spraying up around you, you were both still laughing, breathless, a little unsteady.

Then the laughter faded. You looked up at him at the same time he looked down at you, and suddenly the space between your faces felt too small. Small enough that you could feel his warm breath against your cheek.

You blinked a few times, surprised and frozen in place. Vernon’s gaze dropped to your mouth, just for a second. When it lifted again, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing once. Seeing that and the intent in his eyes made your heart kick painfully against your ribs, like it was trying to escape.

Laughter and cheering exploded behind you as another sled barreled to a stop nearby.

You moved instantly, standing too fast, stepping away before your body could do something stupid. Cold air rushed back in like a shock as you brushed snow from your coat, cheeks burning despite the winter air.

Vernon cleared his throat. “That was fun,” he said, smiling like nothing happened.

You swallowed, looking away. “Yeah.”

Behind you, you could feel his gaze linger. You told yourself it was just adrenaline. Still, when he reached for the sled again and asked, “One more?” you didn’t say no.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You drifted between rooms, between conversations—helping in the kitchen, sitting in on half-finished card games, watching kids chase each other until someone inevitably cried over a stolen candy cane. 

Somewhere in the middle of it all, you realized you’d stopped keeping track of where Vernon was at all times. Not because you didn’t care, but because you didn’t need to.

He was there when you glanced up from a conversation, leaning against a doorway, already looking at you. He was there beside you when someone handed out mugs of something warm, your shoulders brushing as you accepted yours. There were looks shared across the room, quick whispered comments that made you laugh under your breath, inside jokes forming without effort.

For once since you got here, there was no pressure to perform. No constant mental checklist. No fear that you’d look too distant for two people who were supposedly engaged. You were just genuinely enjoying yourself.

By nightfall, after a movie that half the room slept through, you found yourself walking back down the hall beside him, the house was quieter now, voices fading behind closed doors.

You were still laughing about a scene from the movie neither of you could take seriously. Your steps slowed naturally as you reached the door to the bedroom.

Vernon lingered in the hallway, hands in his pockets, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he said casually, “you’re a really good person.”

You snorted, already turning toward the door. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

That made you pause. You glanced back at him, brows lifting. “Right. Sure you are.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, really. People at work call you Medusa, but I think they’re wrong about you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, I don’t call you that,” he added quickly. “It’s just them.” 

You stared at him, genuinely caught off guard. “Medusa?”

“Like I said, they’re wrong. Please forgive them,” he said, smiling. “It’s just that they’ve never met someone so hardworking and intelligent. So sharp. So… wonderful. I think they figured there’s no way a real person could be that amazing, so they called you Medusa.”

Your stomach fluttered, completely against your will. But then you scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “Or,” you said, recovering, “it’s because people freeze when they see me. Like Medusa turns them into stone.”

He laughed. “That too.”

You laughed too, the sound echoing softly down the quiet hallway. And then for a moment, neither of you said anything. You were just staring at each other. When he leaned on the wall adjacent to the door, you mirrored him by leaning on his bedroom door.

Crossing your arms, you said, “It’s my turn on the bed tonight.”

Vernon chuckled softly, eyes glimmering, shaking his head. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

He opened his mouth—probably to argue, like always—then stopped. His gaze was still on you, that soft glow in his eyes was still there.

“…Fine,” he sighed, pushing himself away from the wall and walking toward you. He stopped just a breath away. “You can have it.”

You frowned, caught off guard. “That was too easy.”

He shrugged, reaching for the door knob behind you, leaning in so close. “Don’t get used to it,” he murmured, still not moving away even after he had pushed the door open.

You smiled, shaking your head lightly, and walked in. You took your cardigan off, reached the bed, arranged the blanket—you counted the steps in your head, not because you needed to, but because your chest was doing this ridiculous fluttering thing.

Vernon followed quietly, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips, and you watched as he picked up his blanket and headed to the couch. Then he gave you a small wave before disappearing behind the backrest. 

You lay down, smiling to yourself, staring up at the ceiling, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest.

This is bad, you whispered in your thoughts. This is so bad. You were smiling like an idiot. Because of Vernon Chwe! 

You exhaled through your nose. Okay. So maybe you were enjoying this holiday. A little too much. And yes. Fine. Vernon likes you. You weren’t imagining that. You’d spent your entire career reading people; you weren’t about to pretend you couldn’t read this.

But the more troubling realization was: you might be starting to like him back.

And that was bad because you had no idea how to tread this territory. This wasn’t in the agreement. There was no clause for catching feelings, no protocol for what to do if that ever happened.

“Hey,” Vernon’s voice carried from across the room, making your head snap that way, quieting your thoughts.

“Hey…” you murmured back.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer right away. You let yourself breathe. Then you exhaled softly, trying to get some control back, and making a decision right then and there. “Goodnight, Secretary Chwe,” you murmured.

You knew what it meant to call him that, knew how that sounded. But the words weren’t exactly for him. Not really. They were for you—a reminder to draw a line, to keep your head straight and not get distracted.

Because it turns out that the most dangerous thing about fake dating is not getting caught; it’s when things start to feel real.

The house was already awake when you stirred the next morning. You could tell before you even opened the door—voices overlapping downstairs, footsteps on the stairs, laughter that was louder than usual. Vernon noticed it too the second he stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, sleeves rolled as he buttoned his shirt.

“Is it just me or is the house noisier than usual?” he asked, voice light.

You huffed a laugh. “Maybe your family multiplied in their sleep.”

You didn’t get far down the stairs before his mother intercepted the both of you, beaming, hands clasped together like she’d been waiting all morning for this exact moment.

“Surprise!” she said brightly.

Behind her, the living room was packed. Not just relatives—new faces. Older couples you didn’t recognize, younger people clustered near the windows, a few men Vernon vaguely waved at in recognition. Someone had already put music on. Someone else had brought food. There were flowers on the table that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday.

Vernon blinked once. “Mom, what’s going on?”

His mother laughed, waving him off. “Oh, we thought it would be nice to surprise you with an engagement party and invite our family friends, and your friends of course.”

“Your friends?” you asked, looking at Vernon.

“Yes, dear,” his mom answered. “Kids he grew up with and went to school with.”

She looped an arm through yours before you could take a step back. “I know it’s a lot, and you two have a penchant for keeping things lowkey. But don’t worry, this is just a small function. We won’t put you in too much spotlight, so no pressure.”

“Hah,” you exclaimed, then chuckled awkwardly. “Of course. No pressure,” you echoed, glancing sideways at Vernon.

“Mom,” he said, “you really didn’t have to—”

“Oh hush,” she said, already steering you further into the hall. “Everyone’s been dying to meet you properly.”

And just like that, the lie wasn’t a snowball anymore. It’s an avalanche.

You endured. That was the only way to describe it. Endurance. You smiled when people congratulated you. You nodded when they said you were beautiful together. You accepted hugs from women who smelled like perfume and winter coats and cinnamon.

Someone pressed a drink into your hand. Someone else asked how you met. You answered automatically, muscle memory carrying you through a story you’d told often enough that it no longer snagged.

Vernon stayed close. A hand at your back, a glance across the room when the noise spiked. Every so often, he’d hold your hand and give it a light squeeze, as if he was apologizing and asking you to power through.

His friends were easier than you expected. They were polite, warm, and a little teasing, the kind that only comes from a long shared history.

One of them clapped Vernon on the shoulder. “Good for you man. Moving away, starting over, meeting someone you wanted to marry.”

“Jealous, Gyu?” another guy scoffed. “Maybe if you stopped sleeping around like a menace—”

“Oh, shut up, Seungcheol,” Mingyu shot back. “You’re the one flirting with sad married women.”

“For the last time,” Seungcheol sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like this argument had worn him thin, “she’s not married. She’s divorced.”

You watched Vernon through it all—relaxed, carefree, amused, completely at ease in the presence of friends who knew him best.

“So,” Wonwoo cut in, eyes flicking between the two of you. “What are you doing these days, Vernon?”

“Yeah,” someone else added. “What happened after you left the company?”

That caught your attention. You glanced at Vernon. “The slave contract you were talking about,” you said slowly, “that was with your family?”

He grinned, entirely unapologetic. You scowled. “The hell? So you were a nepo baby too. How dare you call me one.”

Vernon laughed, head lolling back. You just stared at him, unimpressed. His friends too, apparently. They were just staring like they had no idea what was so funny. 

Vernon eventually noticed it, so he stopped, cleared his throat, and straightened up. “I’m working as a secretary,” he said, and then, with visible pride, slid an arm around your shoulder. “In her cosmetics company.”

The pause was immediate. “…Wait,” Seungcheol said. “You work for her?”

“She’s the CEO?” Mingyu asked, and Vernon nodded again.

“So you’re—” Wonwoo pointed at you, then back at Vernon. “—his boss?”

“Yeah,” Vernon said proudly. “She’s very cool.”

There was a second where you braced yourself, afraid they might judge him for it. But then Mingyu barked out a laugh. Then suddenly, everyone else was laughing.

“No way,” Seungcheol said, shaking his head. “You? Taking orders?”

Mingyu followed, grinning wide. “Do you have any idea how insane that is? This man has never worked under anyone.”

“Ever,” Wonwoo added. “He used to boss entire departments around like it was a sport.”

Vernon rolled his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“That’s extremely true,” Mingyu shot back. He turned to you, “He’s so annoying. And he doesn’t even realize it. He once made a manager wait because he ‘wasn’t done talking.’”

You blinked, surprised, then laughed before you could stop yourself. Nodding, you said, “He is kinda annoying. And tactless sometimes.”

Seungcheol pointed at you, delighted. “See? Imagine that kind of guy working under someone?”

Mingyu asked you, “Bet you’re always on the verge of firing him every day, huh?”

You shrugged. “Not really. He is annoying but I can keep him in line. And he’s pretty good at his job. There are only two people who can keep up with me, and he’s one of them.”

“Figures,” Wonwoo said, nodding like it all made sense now. “Leaves the family business, ends up working for someone smarter than him.”

“And marries her,” Mingyu added, grinning. “How poetic.”

Vernon didn’t deny it. If anything, he looked pleased, standing there beside you like this arrangement wasn’t something to be embarrassed about, but something he’d chosen.

You felt something warm settle in your chest at that. 

“So,” Mingyu said, dragging a chair closer and plopping down like he was settling in for a story. “I gotta ask. How did this happen?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You two,” Mingyu clarified, gesturing between you. “From boss and secretary to engaged and getting married soon.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, eyes bright. “Yeah. Did he seduce you with his wiles while pretending to work as your secretary?”

Vernon scoffed. “I did not seduce her.”

“You absolutely did,” Mingyu said. “Look at him. That’s a man who knows how to weaponize his good looks.”

You snorted. “That’s slander.”

“Oh, come on,” Seungcheol said. “You’re telling me he didn’t pull the whole competent, always-there, remembers-your-coffee-order routine?”

Vernon opened his mouth to protest again, but you beat him to it. “It’s not hard to fall for Vernon,” you said.

The table went quiet. You hadn’t planned to say that. It just slipped out.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of the way Vernon had turned fully toward you. “I mean—he is,” you continued. “He’s thoughtful. He pays attention. He notices things most people don’t bother with. He anticipates what needs to be done without making a show of it.”

Vernon didn’t interrupt. He just watched you, expression unreadable, eyes steady.

“He’s… considerate. And patient. And surprisingly kind. Of course, he’s sarcastic and all but even that is excusable because those little arguments are fun and makes every day less dull,” you added, smiling absently. “And he’s the sweetest. Which is annoying, actually, because it makes it hard to stay mad at him.”

You finally looked at Vernon.

He was smiling—but not the smug one, not the teasing one. This was softer, the same smile he had been giving you these last few days. The kind that looked like he was grateful for the existence of you. He looked like he hadn’t expected to hear all that, but he was holding it carefully now that it existed.

You gave him the same smile. Or as best as you could reflect it, hoping, and knowing, that he knew exactly what it meant. And you realized now that you had just crossed a line. 

Straight up just stepped over it without hesitation, after telling yourself very clearly the night before where it was.

Mingyu stood abruptly. “Okay. Nope. I’m too single for this.” He waved a hand between the two of you. “You’re both being disgustingly in love. Kissing in front of me would’ve been less damaging.”

Wonwoo laughed. “Agreed. Let’s move on before I start believing in love again.”

You huffed a laugh, but it came out weaker than you meant it to. Your chest was heavy with warmth and feelings and… and love.

But you had no time to dwell on it. Someone suggested games. Someone else brought snacks. Chairs were pulled, conversations restarted, the day rolling forward like nothing had almost happened.

But when Vernon held your hand under the table later, not for show because no one would’ve seen it, you didn’t move away. And for the rest of the day, you didn’t bring up the line you’d drawn. You just quietly stood on the other side of it.

The engagement party thing was over by noon. Guests left one by one, and the family resumed preparations for Christmas Eve dinner. You were gathered in the kitchen with the adults, helping out with the cookies.

Vernon was sitting in a chair beside you, casually chatting with you and his mom about holiday traditions.

“Your parents actually used to host the winter bonfires,” said Vernon’s mom, smiling fondly at you. 

“They did?” you asked, delighted to hear another anecdote about your parents.

She nodded. “Yes. Every year. And then your mom got pregnant with you, so they skipped a year. After that, the whole tradition just stopped,” she added, sighing. “They’d always made it so magical. We simply could not recreate it.”

Vernon leaned forward, gesturing with his mug. “I remember when I met her parents. Incredible people. And her mom’s so beautiful.”

The room froze. Adults exchanged sharp glances, eyebrows raised. His mom looked at him, brows furrowed. “You met her parents?”

“Yeah. I—” You nudged Vernon’s leg under the table, stopping him.

“But that’s impossible, dear,” Nana said, her voice laced with sympathy, “you couldn’t have. Her parents passed away a long time ago.”

You felt Vernon freeze beside you. Quick on your feet, you leaned slightly toward him, your tone casual as if nothing unusual had happened, as if your heart didn’t just sink to your stomach. 

“Oh, I took him to their graves,” you said smoothly. “He met them there.”

Vernon blinked at you, clearly realizing he’d made a mistake.

“I wanted to introduce him to them first,” you added, smiling, channeling your best acting yet. “I didn’t know our connection yet at the time, but they were probably thrilled to know I’m marrying their close friend’s son.”

“Aw,” Vernon’s mom sighed. “That’s very thoughtful of you, isn’t it?”

The tension in the room melted almost instantly, replaced by murmurs and soft chuckles from the other adults. Conversation resumed around you, with only a few glances exchanged—reminders of the near slip, and of just how good you were at thinking on your feet.

Vernon reached for your hand, so you glanced at him. He looked apologetic, and you could tell it wasn’t because he nearly revealed that you weren’t in a real relationship. You smiled at him, patting his hand and mouthing, ‘It’s okay.’

By the time dinner preparations were done, you were exhausted. Exhausted from the engagement party, from socializing with people who were basically strangers to you, and exhausted from helping out in the kitchen.

“This is nice and all, but I think I prefer our boring Christmas dinners, Grandma,” you told your Grandma while getting dressed for dinner.

She chuckled heartily, sitting in front of her vanity and trying on a different shade of lipstick. “Being surrounded by people you love on Christmas is how it’s supposed to be, my dear. It’s a shame I couldn’t give you this kind of warmth growing up.”

“Hey,” you chided, walking toward her and wrapping your arms around her shoulder. “I have no complaints, so you shouldn’t talk like that. You raised me as best as you can and taught me everything I know.”

Your Grandma melted in your embrace, sighing as she put the lipstick down. “Yeah, you’re a wonderful kid, alright. I just wished you were a little sweeter.”

“Please,” you chuckled, pulling away. “My lack of sweetness and my attitude in general is thanks to you, as well.”

“I know that, but couldn’t you be more affectionate? Or expressive?” she sighed, gaze following you across the room. “Learn a thing or two about expressing yourself from Vernon.”

“Too late for that,” you quipped, checking your reflection in the mirror once more.

Your Grandma sighed in defeat. “I guess I should be glad you’re marrying him then. He can express affection for both of you.”

Then came a series of knocks on the door. You quickly walked toward it, yanking it open knowing Vernon would be on the other side. 

“Hi,” he beamed, taking you in with his eyes. “You look amazing.”

You shrugged. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my love,” you replied, using your endearment, not because your grandma was there, but because… just because.

“Shall we?”

The dining room was warm, the scent of roasted meat and cinnamon filling the air. Dinner was loud like always in this house—chairs scraping, someone always talking over someone else, Nana shushing nobody in particular.

You ended up seated beside Vernon, mostly because every time you tried to move, someone asked you to stay. He passed you food without asking. You corrected his grip on the serving spoon once. He fixed it without comment.

At some point, his Nana leaned over.  “Is now the best time to talk weddings?”

Vernon chuckled lightly. “Nana, it’s Christmas eve. We’ll have time for that later.”

Nana tried to insist, but eventually gave up when you both refused adamantly. Later, when some cousins got up to chase the kids outside for an impromptu snowball fight, Vernon leaned closer. 

After dishes were cleared and the family settled around the living room for a low-volume carol playlist, you both slipped out to the balcony, leaving the laughter and chatter behind. The night was cold, and snowflakes drifted lazily downward, coating the garden below in soft white. Vernon wrapped a blanket around himself, then stood behind you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, wrapping his arms and the blanket around you.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth seep in immediately. “Are people watching?”

“Yeah. About a dozen of them,” he replied briskly. “I think I need to hold you closer. Make it more believable, you know?” he added, already tightening his arms around you.

You could tell he was lying, but you didn’t bother confirming. “You should, or we’d get caught,” you said, leaning your head against his chest.

“Your family has a lot of stamina,” you said after a pause. “I would’ve tapped out after day one.”

“You did better than I expected,” he replied, chuckling. “Everyone likes you. Nana adores you.”

“That’s terrifying,” you said, looking up at him. “She’s very perceptive.”

Vernon smiled, shifting a little and pressing his chin on top of your head. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Day.”

“I know. One more day and this is all over,” you replied, taking a long relieved breath. “We can finally go back to how things were.”

You felt him stiffen behind you, recovering almost as quickly. He laughed slowly. “I was actually thinking the same thing. When this is over, we could go back to our hectic, caffeinated daily routine, closing deals like champs, terrorizing the marketing head, pressuring manufacturers, calling the lab day in and day out for new and improved formulas.”

“You’re making us sound like bad capitalists,” you quipped, grinning. “I mean we’re capitalists but we're not that bad.”

Vernon chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. “And I was also thinking…” he paused, loosened his arms, and turned you around so you could face him fully.

He braced his hands on the railing, caging you in as he stared into your eyes. You held your breath and looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“I was thinking maybe we could go out on nice dinners sometimes. After work,” he continued. “Go on a road trip on weekends. Maybe catch a movie if you’re into that.”

“Like bosses and secretaries do?”

He huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure they don’t do that.”

You shrugged, still looking anywhere but his eyes. “They might. If they’re… dating.”

The word lingered between you, more meaningful than you meant it to be. Vernon stayed quiet for a few moments, then, softly, carefully, he said your name, the word rolling beautifully on his tongue.

You looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “Yes? Vernon?”

Something changed in his expression. Like you’d tapped something only he could feel. “That’s three times,” he said softly.

“What?”

“Three times you’ve called me by my name since we met.”

You blinked, surprised he’d even noticed. “You’re counting?”

He shrugged. “If you’re Secretary Chwe every minute of the day, you just can’t help but keep count.”

Neither of you moved. He didn’t step closer, diidn’t touch you, he just stayed there, giving you space and somehow still holding you in place.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, almost in a whisper.

“That would be breaking the rules,” you said, automatically. Not because you actually cared about the rules, but because  you were too nervous. Your heart was kicking hard against your ribs. Your breathing was getting unsteady. And your skin was pricking not from the cold, but from anticipation.

“I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled, already leaning in.

You met him halfway. In a kiss that was soft and careful, growing firmer with every breath. His hand found your waist, warm through the layers, steadying you as your lips pressed back with more certainty.

For a moment, you couldn’t hear or see anything. You could only feel. Feel his hand around you, his lips against yours, his warmth, your warmth, his heartbeat against your own. Snow fell. Laughter drifted faintly from inside. The world continued on, unaware. Or maybe they were aware. You didn’t care. Right now, nothing else mattered but this moment right here.

Even after you pulled away, you stayed close, foreheads touching, breaths fogging, cheeks flushed, and grinning. Vernon’s hands lingered at your waist, firm but gentle, the warmth through the layers of your coats seeping into you like it was meant to.

“God, it’s freezing out here,” he murmured, voice low.

“You don’t say,” you whispered back, and the words were a laugh and a shiver at the same time.

He tilted his head slightly, nudging yours so your noses brushed. “I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply.

You tilted your chin up, meeting his eyes. “I know,” you said softly.

He let out a small laugh, almost a sigh, pressing a little closer. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted, and it came out softer than you expected, a confession you hadn’t planned to give aloud.

There was a pause, long enough that you could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, long enough that the wind seemed to hush around you. Your hands found his neck, and he leaned into your touch, eyes closing for just a fraction of a second before reopening, searching yours.

“I can’t pretend anymore.”

“Then let’s not,” you replied softly, and before you knew it, Vernon was scooping you up again for another kiss.

You were used to being in control.

Boardrooms fell silent whenever you walked in. People listened when you spoke. Decisions were set the moment you made them. Even now, in Vernon’s bedroom with the door closed and the city humming somewhere across the sea, you expected that familiar balance to tilt in your favor.

But it didn’t.

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes wide and brows furrowed at Vernon who just stopped kissing you out of nowhere.

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant and relaxed. “We need to slow down.”

“What?” you demanded, thoroughly confused. “What do you mean? This was your idea.”

“It is, but I need to know we’re on the same page here,” he said, smiling casually, but the firm grip of his hands on your hips told you he was restraining himself hard.

“I thought we made that clear?”

“No. What we did was stare into each other’s eyes and use vague words,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling over. “Vernon Chwe, I swear to God if you don’t kiss me right no—”

He crashed his lips into yours, shutting you up completely. Your body reacted immediately, heat and need shooting up through your core. Vernon’s long fingers tangled into your hair, tugging firmly until a moan escaped from your lips. He took this chance to shove his tongue into your open mouth. You pulled him even closer, breasts pressing against his broad chest.

His kisses trailed to your jaw, one hand slipping under your shirt to touch the skin of your waist. You gasped when his mouth latched to your neck, sucking and nipping.

“Vernon,” you said, tapping his shoulders. “Take me to the bed.”

Vernon pulled away just enough to press his forehead against you, smirking. “Is that an order?” he rasped, his hand underneath your shirt now moving to slip past your bra.

“No?” you breathed, holding back a moan when he gave your nipple a gentle squeeze. “Is it?”

“It better not be,” he whispered into your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin. He took your wrists  “I’ll allow that at work, but don’t think for one second that I’m gonna let you tell me what to do in my room…”

He kissed your neck, making your skin shiver in the best way. “Or on my bed,” he added, licking your throat.

You moaned out his name, but he was quick to press a finger on your lips. “Shush, love. This may be a big house, but the walls here are thin.”

“Vernon…” you purred, and he cupped your cheek gently, then pressed a long, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Be quiet, alright?” he said, smiling before disappearing from your line of sight.

You were confused for a fraction of a second. Then you felt your skirt being lifted, followed by something pressing on your clothed cunt without warning.

You gasped, realizing belatedly that it was Vernon’s nose. You felt him take a long sniff, hand wrapping around your thigh. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and he let out a growl the likes of which you’d never heard before.

A second later, he was devouring you, relentless and insatiable, leaving you trembling under his touch. Your grip on his hair tightened, your knees were threatening to give out with every lick. If it wasn’t for his tight hold around your legs, you would have collapsed on the floor already.

Vernon slipped a finger into you, without warning, making you gasp. He rose to his feet, finger still inside you, his other hand pushing loose hair behind your ear as he shushed you gently. 

“The entire house is gonna hear you, and they’re gonna know exactly what’s going on in here,” he said, as if it wasn’t his fingering that was making you make all these noises.

But you listened anyway, biting down your lower lip, tears pricking at your eyelids when he pushed a second finger in. You buried your face on his chest, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed you closer to the edge

Vernon pressed his lips on the side of your head, shushing you gently while still brutally ramming his fingers in and out of your sex.

Then you felt that familiar knot twisting low in your belly, threatening to come undone. Your breathing turned erratic, breasts falling and rising rapidly as you braced for an orgasm. Vernon saw that, kissed your cheek, and moved harder amd faster. 

His fingers were cramping, but the delightful look on your face was spurring him on. He couldn’t wait to see the beautiful face you’d make when it’s finally him drilling into your sweet cunt. Just thinking about it was making his cock throb—hard and hot, still trapped in his pants.

“Vernon, I’m—” you cut yourself off, gasping, body jerking, hands on his shoulders gripping tighter as a wave of orgasmm surged through you.

Then you fell limp against Vernon, who held you steadily. He kissed you again because… well because he just couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, could he? His head was clouded, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to fuck your brains out.

So he lifted your thighs, wrapped your legs around his legs and carried you over to the bed.

You fell on the mattress with a bounce, still out of breath from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Vernon crawled over you, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Still wanna tell me what to do?” he asked, mouth hovering just above yours.

You hesitated. That hesitation made him smile. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, kissing you again. 

His hand pinned your wrist above your head, the other tracing down your side like he was rewriting the rules you lived by. He gathered the hem of your sweater, yanking it up and over your head, before crashing his lips back to yours.

Your skirt and stockings followed immediately after, his hands settling on your thighs, spreading them wide enough for him to marvel at the sight of your wet pussy.

“Like what you’re seeing?” you asked, confidence spiking because Vernon was looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.

He huffed an amused laugh, hand tracing your thigh. “Oh, I love it. You have no idea.”

When was the last time you felt this kind of intense desire and uninhibited pleasure? You couldn’t even remember. Not that it mattered. Vernon was here to rock your entire world tonight, with that rock-hard, standing tall, deliciously girthy manhood that had just sprang free from the confines of his boxers.

You held your breath when he positioned himself between your legs, licking a stripe on his hands and coating his cock with the slick. Your fingers curled into the sheets as he pressed into you slowly, the earlier orgasm making him slide smoothly, but the stretch made you whimper.

“Don’t make me cover that mouth myself,” he warned, grinning so sweetly, unaware of the surge of pleasure that just shot through you when he said those words.

He bottomed out with a groan, his body settling over yours as he collected himself. His hair brushed your face as he moaned against your chest, muttering curses under his breath.

Meanwhile, you were catching your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Vernon, I need you to move. Please. Please. Please,” you’d basically pleaded.

Vernon exhaled sharply, lifting his head to meet your gaze and plant a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll allow it because you asked nicely,” he quipped, pulling out for a second just before thrusting into you.

Your chest rose and fell against his, nerves dancing in sensations his every move was sending through your body. Your fingers tangled, your breaths mingled, heat lingered in every glance, and every brush of skin. You clung to him, losing track of everything except his touch and the way he held you close.

The world had narrowed to the feeling of him against you, the pull and the push—especially the push. Your lower lip stung from biting too hard to keep yourself quiet. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, echoing in his.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, lips grazing your temple, and the shiver that ran down your spine was delightful and hot. 

“You are most beautiful,” he whispered, eyes locked with yours, filled with sincerity and something tender… something that looked a lot like love.

Snow kept falling outside, and somewhere between the haze of lust and warmth, you were sure that whatever came next would leave both of you ruined in the best possible way. But at the same time, you realized you wouldn’t have wanted to stop even if you could.

You woke up to Vernon’s arms wrapped around you, his warmth seeping through the blankets, his scent lingering in your hair and on your clothes. He was awake, head propped on one hand, watching you with that half-smile that made your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, embarrassed, burying your face against his shoulder.

“Keeping my eyes on you in case this turns out to be a dream and you disappear,” he said in one breath, brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear.

You grinned, snuggling closer. “That’s so corny.”

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, savoring the warmth and the way his hand traced idle patterns along your side. But the inevitability of the morning eventually caught up with you. It’s Christmas Day. By now, the rest of the family would be gathered downstairs, waiting to open gifts and celebrate some more.

“Come on. You should see what I got you,” he said, sitting up. “It’s in a red box with a shiny green ribbon on it.”

“You got me something?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

Vernon looked at you like the answer should have been obvious. “Of course, I got you something. It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to— wait…” he paused, narrowing his eyes at you. “You didn’t get me anything, did you?”

You smiled sheepishly, and Vernon’s jaw dropped. But then he shrugged, reached to cup your face, and grinned.

“It’s okay. I think I received my best Christmas gift yet,” he chimed, leaning in to kiss you.

You ended up cuddling in bed again. Vernon was relentless, kissing the back of your neck, tugging your hands, soft murmurs of promises that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. Getting up after that was slow. Clothes, brushing teeth, and somehow, through a haze of laughter, stolen kisses, and whispers, you managed to get ready.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, standing behind you in front of the mirror and wrapping his arms around.

“Thanks. I figured I should try harder if I’m gonna date someone so handsome,” you replied, turning to face him, arms finding their way around his neck.

Vernon grinned, clearly pleased with what he just heard. “You don’t need to. You’re already too beautiful for someone like me.”

You rolled your eyes, not buying it. “You clearly don’t understand just how beautiful you are, Vernon Chwe.”

He kissed you again, and you had to squirm out of his hold and walk out of the room first or you’d spend the whole morning locked in the bedroom with him.

The first thing you noticed when you reached the bottom of the stairs was the silence. The usual mayhem of children squealing and zooming around, adults chattering, holiday music in the background—it was all gone. Only the adults were there, standing rigidly, staring at the two of you.

Your stomach dropped. Something was wrong, you could feel it in your bones.

Vernon stepped closer, taking your hand in his. “What’s going on?”

No one answered. Then his mom stepped forward, her smile tight, eyes not quite meeting his. She shoved a piece of paper into his hands, and you immediately recognized your carefully constructed contract even before reading the words.

“What is the meaning of that?” his mom asked, her voice small and hesitant. “Vernon, tell us right now. Why is there a document like that in your bedroom?”

The words didn’t register at first. The paper in his hands felt heavy, like it had gravity all its own. You tried to breathe but your chest felt hollow.

Vernon opened his mouth, searching for the right words, and your heart hammered in sympathy and panic. “We… I can explain…”

Voices erupted around you, overlapping, frantic and sharp. Someone asked why he did this. Another said this was unnecessary and that he didn’t have to deceive everyone. One voice asked if he had any motive. Another asked if he thought of this family as a joke.

You barely made sense of it, caught between the tidal wave of accusations, most of them being directed at Vernon. He kept his hand around yours, holding you tight and shielding you with his body as his family demanded answers from him. The rest of the room seemed to tilt and spin. You barely heard him try to speak again; his words were drowned out by questions, accusations, demands—all of it directed at him.

Finally, you found your voice, loud and firm, “It’s my fault.”

All eyes turned toward you, stunned at your words. You took in their confused faces, then exhaled sharply. 

“I made him do this,” you added, tugging your hand away from Vernon’s grasp. “There was a… a situation,” you began to explain, choosing your words carefully. 

“A supposedly one-off situation that unexpectedly spiraled out of control. And I know, we could have avoided this by being honest from the get-go but…” Your gaze swept the room and settled on your grandma in the corner. You thought she’d look angry, but all you could see on her face was sympathy. “But we didn’t. We couldn’t.”

You flattened your lips into a smile, still directed at your grandmother. “Not when it was the first time in a long time that I saw someone smile as brightly as she did when she heard I had a fiancee.”

Your Grandma’s hand flew to her mouth, his brows furrowing, and she looked away. You turned to the rest of Vernon’s family. To his Nana, to his parents, his aunts and uncles—the very people who welcomed you warmly into their home.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I have my reasons, but they’re all just excuses. Selfish excuses. I shouldn’t have dragged your entire family into this. I wouldn’t have,” you paused, taking a deep breath and turning to Vernon. “I wouldn’t have if I had known just how much you loved Vernon.”

You turned to everyone again. Nana’s hand was on her chest, Vernon’s mom was covering her mouth in shock.

“So don’t blame him. It’s not his fault. He’s a really good man,” you added, smiling bitterly. “He just couldn’t say no to his Medusa of a boss who promised him a raise and regularization if he agreed to do this.” 

“Stop,” Vernon said, taking your hand. “I didn’t agree to this because of that—”

“It’s okay, Secretary Chwe,” you interrupted, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry for ruining your Christmas. I’ll leave,” you said, voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. You glanced at Nana, and the words escaped almost like a prayer: “You have a wonderful family. I’m sorry. I wish we didn’t have to meet like this.”

And with that, you walked out, leaving Vernon rooted in place, the paper still in his hand, the room swirling with stunned silence.

Before you knew it, you were sinking into your seat on the plane, the engines vibrating softly beneath you. Beside you, your grandma was perfectly composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared out the window at the receding tarmac.

Vernon’s family had tried to make you stay. Gentle pleas, promises to table the matter of your deceit and unpack it properly. But you knew they were only being polite. That was just the kind of family they were, too nice for their own good.

You stared at the screen in front of you, counting the buttons, the logos stamped into the leather, your thoughts spinning in circles. Finally, you broke the quiet.

“Grandma…” Your voice was small, tentative. “Why aren’t you mad?”

Her calm eyes met yours. “Why would I be mad?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I knew everything from the beginning.”

Your chest tightened. “You did?”

She nodded serenely. “Of course. You thought you were so clever, but you forgot that I taught you how to use that intelligent brain of yours.”

You blinked. “Wait… what? How?”

Grandma leaned back, unbothered by your wide-eyed stare. “My dear, with whom do you think I set you up with on that last blind date I begged you to go to?”

Your stomach dropped. “That… that was… No way.” You chuckled, in denial. “It can’t have been Vernon.”

“Oh, but it was,” she said, as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. “I kept telling you I knew his family. But you wouldn’t even give a second to hear me out. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in that hotel lobby, calling Vernon Chwe your fiancee.”

At this point, your heart beat has turned erratic. “If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was trying to see how far you were willing to take this charade. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but Vernon asked me to play along, so I did,” she explained.

You turned sharply to face her, incredulous. “Vernon knew that you knew?”

“Yes. He was confident he could make you fall in love and turn this pseudorelationship into a real thing. Sunhee and I had so much fun watching you struggle to maintain a face all week.”

Your jaw dropped. “Who else knows?”

“No one else, as far as I know.” Her hand rested gently over yours. “My dear, you’re clearly overwhelmed right now. Let’s talk about this later.”

You slumped back in your seat, staring out the window at the clouds streaked with gold from the rising sun, your mind buzzing. She knew. Nana knew. Vernon knew they knew. And somehow, that knowledge made the entire avalanche of the past twenty-four hours feel both heavier and… a little lighter.

Vernon first met you when he was ten.

It was summer, hot and loud and bright in the way summers only feel when you’re a kid. His kite had gotten stuck in a tree at the park, and he’d decided that climbing it himself was a good idea. 

But he was wrong. He slipped on the way down, scraped his knee, and sat there sniffing quietly, holding back his tears, more embarrassed than hurt.

Then you appeared out of nowhere, crouched in front of him, asked if he could stand, and when he said no, you sighed like an adult who’d already dealt with worse problems than a bleeding knee. 

After covering his knee with a cartoon Band Aid from your purse, you climbed the tree yourself and brought the kite down like it was nothing.

You were taller than him back then. Probably smarter, and more mature. And when you handed the kite to him and smiled, all he could think was that you were pretty. Like an angel.

He never saw you again after that day. Life moved on, as it does. He went to school, made friends, and had growth spurts. The memory of you drifted to the back of his mind, filed away with other half-remembered moments from childhood.

Until college.

He didn’t recognize you at first. Years had a way of blurring faces, and he almost walked past you at the freshman welcome party until you laughed. Suddenly he was ten again, at the park with a scraped knee and a kite in his hands.

You’d grown prettier, smarter, and more graceful. He was much much taller than you now, but the difference in height only made Vernon think you were cute.

He hadn’t even wanted to attend this party. He’d only gone because his cousin promised to cover his chores for a month if he showed up. Vernon wasn’t naïve—he knew his cousin wanted him there as decoration. He’d grown into his looks by then, and he was ‘handsome’, something people never let him forget, even when he wished they would.

But that night, for the first time in his life, he thought maybe he could use his looks for something other than being stared at. Maybe he could use it to charm his way into your contacts.

He planned to talk to you. Just to say ‘hi’. Maybe ask if you remembered him from all those summers ago. Or maybe he didn’t need to bring up the past at all. He could just talk to you. Say something normal. Ask for your number.

He stood near the drinks table, psyching himself up. But when the moment came, his nerves got the better of him. So he took a shot of soju.

Liquid courage, he told himself.

Then another. Then a third, because his heart was still beating too fast and you were laughing again and seeing that was making it hard for him to breathe.

By the fourth, his cousin was asking if he was okay. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, eyes locked on you a few tables away. 

His cousin poured a shot for himself, and Vernon snatched it away, downing it straight just to see if it would make him less nervous.

Before he knew it, he was already wasted, slumped over a table, cheek pressed to cold plastic. Someone had drawn something obscene on his hand. The party was over, and you were gone. He lay there for a long moment, staring at a bottle, wondering how he’d managed to mess it up without ever actually trying.

After that, he saw you everywhere. The library, the quad, the cafeteria line. Sometimes alone, sometimes surrounded by people. You never noticed him, and he never pushed himself into your space.

Then one afternoon, he saw you holding hands with someone. Apparently, you’d started seeing this guy from the Liberal Arts department. That night, he went back to his dorm, shut the door, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling.

His cousin glanced over. “What’s up with you? You look like you just got dumped”

“I might as well have been,” Vernon said, voice flat. He turned his face into his pillow and let himself feel stupid for exactly five minutes.

Then he moved on because that was just life. He was happy that you were happy.

He dipped his own toes in the dating pool. Dated seriously, even. He laughed, fell in and out of love, learned what he liked and didn’t. You became a fond thought in the back of his head, not a fixation. And also something his friends teased him about every now and then.

Then senior year came. He heard you’d broken up, and realized he still liked you. So he thought about trying again.

He did the same thing without realizing: took shots for liquid courage. One too many shots, obviously. And passed out on a couch before he could say your name, obviously.

Senior year came and went. Graduation followed. He figured that was that. Some people were just meant to be memories.

And his life after college had already been mapped out for him. Vernon worked long hours in his family’s corporation. He learned how to sit through meetings without showing boredom, how to be sharp without being cruel. He dated when he had time, stopped when he didn’t. He built a reputation he hadn’t asked for but carried well enough.

Every once in a while, your name surfaced not from memory, but from screens. LinkedIn updates. A promotion. An article shared by someone else. Your company’s name appeared frequently in industry chatter. You weren’t loud online. You had Instagram but didn’t post much.

He nodded at those updates like they were news about someone he once knew well.

Years later, when he heard about a potential partnership with your company, he volunteered to handle it without hesitation. It wasn’t even his division, but he argued his case until he won. 

He told everyone else that it was professional curiosity. Strategic interest. Nothing else. In reality, he thought maybe this would finally put him in the same room as you again.

But it didn’t. Nana collapsed. That family emergency pulled him away the day of the meeting, and the opportunity slipped through his fingers. Life, once again, had other plans. He never made it to the meeting. Someone else took over. The partnership went through anyway, handled efficiently, just not by him.

You stayed untouchable and unseen. And of course, he moved on again.

Years passed. Nana recovered and became sharper than ever. She mentioned your name casually over tea.

“Her grandma’s worried,” she said. “She thinks that brilliant granddaughter of hers works too much. She called, asking if I knew someone suitable.”

“Someone suitable? A husband?” Vernon’s mom asked.

He froze in his seat, hand hovering as he reached for his teacup.

“Yes,” Nana continued, watching him carefully over the rim of her cup. “I told her I might know someone, but I don’t approve of arranged marriages.”

Vernon’s mom glanced at him too, the only man in the family who hasn’t married yet. “It would be nice. I heard she’s very intelligent and pretty. But I’m a fan of true love too, mama. These days they call it ‘organic encounter’.”

That night, Vernon stared at his ceiling for a long time and made a decision.

He left his job, much to his family’s dismay. They managed to reel him in with his contract, but as soon as that was over, Vernon was out. He moved cities. Applied to your company hoping he’d get closer to you through work. But te only position open was an internship. He took it anyway.

It was a humbling position. Educational. Occasionally ridiculous, and nowhere near you. Apparently interns didn’t meet CEOs on the reg.

So for months, you were just a name, a presence on another floor. Interns and other employees often talked about you—brilliant, dedicated, but formidable and terrifying. Medusa, they called you. 

Vernon would find himself standing up for you against men in his department who uttered inappropriate comments. Especially those who questioned your right to sit in the CEO’s office.

And then one Tuesday morning, Vernon was at the reception desk, sorting documents he wasn’t technically supposed to touch yet, when the elevators chimed.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t really need to. But then he heard a familiar voice calling him by name.

“Vernon Chwe?” the voice repeated, making him look up and freeze.

Your grandmother stood at the front desk, elegant as always. She looked exactly the way Vernon remembered her from childhood. She leaned on her cane more out of habit than necessity, eyes sharp as they swept his face. “Is that you, dear boy?”

Vernon straightened instinctively, unsure why his heart had started beating faster. He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

A pleased smile spread across her face. “Well,” she said lightly, tapping her cane against the floor once. “I thought so. My, how much you’re grown.”

His mouth went dry. “You remember me?”

She laughed softly. “Of course I do. What are you doing here? Last I heard you were Executive Director at your family’s company.”

Vernon hesitated. Then he sighed, knowing full well how hard it was gonna be to lie to your grandma. “I think we’re gonna need to sit down if I’m to answer that question.”

Your Grandma seemed to understand something. “Come to tea this Sunday. Let’s unpack whatever that is.”

And Vernon did meet with your grandma that Sunday. And he confessed that he was there because of you. After hours of talking about you, your grandma decided to set him up on a blind date with you.

To say he was thrilled was an understatement. Vernon was over the moon. He couldn’t wait for the day to come. Though Grandma did warn him that she had a habit of not showing up to these dates. He was still looking forward to it, hoping your grandma stayed true to her words when she said she would try to convince you.

Then Becca came by the intern lounge, asking if anyone wanted to be your temporary secretary while she was on maternity leave.

“For Medusa?” someone murmured quietly.

Silence followed, and interns exchanged nervous glances. Vernon was the only one who raised his hand.

Becca stared at him. “I need to know if you’re serious about this.”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna be paid a regular’s rate, but it’s not gonna be an easy task.”

“I know. I can handle it.”

She sighed. “Fine. No backing out at the last minute, alright?” she said, pointing her pen at him. “Follow me. Training starts now.”

Vernon trained for a week, learning schedules and systems, familiarizing himself with important names and contacts, copying the cadence of your emails. All this while stealing glances into your office, or staring a little too long whenever you passed by.  

He reminded himself to be normal. To not let the past—or the crush—color the present. Even though it had clearly already taken over his entire world.

And then came the day Vernon was finally getting introduced to you. Becca had given him the head’s up the day before, and he took an extra hour getting ready the next day.

He stood with Becca in your office, patiently waiting for you to walk into those heavy glass doors. When you did, Vernon straightened up. Luckily that time, he didn’t get drunk or pass out anymore. Everything after that was an experience Vernon would never forget.

And now, over a month later, there he was, standing just inside your office, asking you to take him back.

It was the 29th. Just two days before New Year’s Day and four days since the whole fiasco at the Chwe Estate. Grandma and Nana had invited you out on a brunch where you apologized—more than once. For the lies. For leaving. For ruining Christmas. 

Nana waved it all off with a soft laugh, insisting none of it mattered as much as you thought it did. “We’ve seen worse.”

She said the family wasn’t really angry, just shocked. Said that if you’d stayed, things wou;d’ve been resolved over breakfast and hot cocoa, the way they always did.

“What’s done is done,” your grandma had said simply, stirring her coffee. “At least you learned a lesson from this experience.”

You didn’t bring up Vernon. You couldn’t, not after how vague things were left between you. The grandmas seemed to understand that the subject was touchy and decided not to bring it up either.

After brunch, you told them you had something for Nana—and for everyone back home. It had arrived at the office that morning, and that was how the three of you ended up there instead of going straight home.You drove back to the office with the city humming around you, hands steady on the wheel despite everything sitting heavy in your chest.

They followed you into the building where employees greeted your grandma at every turn, surprised to see THE big boss parading the halls. You heard Nana quip about your grandma building an empire through inflicting fear upon her people, and laughed along when they did.

But that laughter died down the moment you stepped out of the elevator and found Vernon Chwe standing near reception, hands clasped loosely in front of him, jacket still on like he hadn’t been sure whether to stay or leave. He looked up the moment the elevator opened, like he’d been waiting for it.

For a second, no one moved. Your brows furrowed, relief and confusion washing over you. Relief because four days felt too long and you’d missed him the whole time. Confusion because what was he doing there? And why did he wait until now to come see you?

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked.

He picked up a clear bag from the floor and lifted it for you to see. “You didn’t get to see what I got you,” he said and your eyes locked on the red giftbox with a green ribbon inside the clear bag.

Your grandma squeezed your arm gently. “We’ll give you two a moment.”

Nana was already nodding, amused. “Yes. Let’s let the kids sort it out.”

You didn’t protest, letting them walk back into the elevator, muttering and giggling. The office fell quiet. You and Vernon were staring at each other while the rest of the people on that floor held their breath. You could feel their eyes, watching and waiting for whatever was about to go down.

You exhaled and started walking toward your office. Vernon followed silently behind. You didn’t say anything until you were inside your office, the door clicking shut behind you. It was quieter here, insulated from the rest of the floor.

You turned to face him. “My grandma told me something about you,” you said, not elaborating because he probably already knows what you mean. “Is it true?

“It is,” he answered quickly.

You let out a slow breath. “So you liked me even before I asked you to be my fake fiancee?”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Oh, I liked you longer than that.” 

Your heart stuttered, just before beating wildly in your chest.

“When we were kids, when we were in college… I liked you in different ways, at different stages of my life.” He met your eyes fully. “And now… Now I’m in love with you.”

You kept your voice steady, hands clenching at your sides as you tried your best not to just go ahead and jump in his arms. “Why didn’t you come see me sooner?”

“I tried, but I didn’t really get a chance. You were in a relationship with this dude in college—”

“No, I meant after we left the island on Christmas day,” you interrupted.

Vernon paused, realization dawning on him. “Oh. Oh, I wanted to,” he said. “But no one was allowed to leave the island until the holidays were over. That’s not negotiable in my family. And I needed to sort things out. With them. With myself. I didn’t want to come to you half-done.”

You laughed under your breath. “Do you always have to do things properly?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to do this one right.”

Silence fell between you. You crossed your arms, still unsure what to do, how to navigate this. “I’m sorry,” you said first, because you had to. He deserved it. “For leaving like that. For not letting you say anything.”

He shook his head. “I would’ve followed you anyway.”

“So?” you asked, heat creeping up your neck. “What now?”

Vernon took one tentative step closer. “Well, my new year’s resolution is to kiss you everyday for the rest of my life.”

You huffed a laugh, caught off guard. “That’s a… very specific commitment.”

“I’m very committed to it.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Vernon watched with a fond smile, just before silence came again. You were both standing at the edge of something you didn’t want to rush or ruin.

“Well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you just gonna stand there all day or do I have to kiss you myself?”

Vernon’s mouth stretched into the biggest, happiest smile you’d ever seen on a man. He crossed the distance between you in one step, then wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, instinctively, like it was something your body had been waiting for longer than your mind wanted to admit.

Then he kissed you. A kiss that answered everything, one that didn’t ask questions anymore. For a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. But only for a moment because three seconds later, the sound of clapping, cheers, and hooting erupted around the office.

Startled, you pulled back just enough to see past his shoulder and realized that the entire floor had been watching from outside the clear glass walls of your office.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, looking at Vernon and then laughing. “Do you think they heard you confess your love for me?” you teased.

Vernon glanced around, then back at you, utterly unbothered. “I don’t care,” he said, scooping you up and kissing you again.

The office erupted all over again, a whole floor of employees witnessing the day you and Vernon made a scene professing love like you were in cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

And honestly? You didn’t care either.

“hey baby,” he murmurs, stepping closer and steadying you by your shoulders before you can tip over,

“how much did you drink?”

you shrug, “not that much..”

he raises an eyebrow, “you can barely stand,”

you try to argue, but it comes out as a quiet laugh instead,

your head ends up leaning against his chest like it belongs there, and he just sighs again, softer this time, wrapping an arm around you,

“cmon,” he mumbles, guiding you inside and kicking the door shut behind you,

“let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep on the floor,”

you cling to him more than walk, mumbling nonsense as he helps you down the hallway,

every now and then he chuckles under his breath when you say something completely random,

“you’re cute,” he mutters, “but this is exactly why i tell you to know your limits,”

you pout up at him, “i’m fine..”

“yeah?” he hums, stopping to look at you properly, “you don’t even know where you are right now,”

“..home?”

he smiles, brushing your hair back gently, “barely,”

once you’re in the bedroom, he helps you sit on the bed, crouching in front of you to take your shoes off, (let’s pretend it’s not an asian household for once hahaha)

his hands are careful and soft, almost like you’re something fragile,

“next time,” he says quietly, glancing up at you, “don’t drink like this if i’m not there, okay?”

you just blink at him,

he softens, reaching up to cup your cheek,

“i’m serious, i don’t like the idea of you being this out of it without someone watching you,”

you nod, even if you’re not fully processing it,

he smiles a little, “good,”

when he stands up, you catch his sleeve, tugging him closer without really thinking,

he leans down slightly, confused for a second, until you tilt your head up,

“what?” he murmurs,

you don’t answer, instead you just press a clumsy, soft kiss to his lips,

he freezes for half a second, then huffs a quiet laugh against your mouth, one hand coming up to steady your face,

“you’re unbelievable,” he whispers, but his tone is as soft as warm as ever,

he kisses you back properly this time, slow, gentle and careful, like he’s afraid you might tip over if he’s not holding you,

his thumb brushes your cheek softly, grounding you even with this gentle touch,

when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours for a moment,

“okay,” he murmurs softly, “that’s enough, you need sleep,”

he helps you change, tucks you into bed, and even brings you water, holding the glass while you sip like you might drop it,

and when you’re finally lying down, already half asleep, he brushes your hair away from your face again,

“even like this you’re still cute,” he murmurs,

you mumble something unintelligible,

and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “get some sleep drunky,”

kim ryul

you stumble through the door with way too much confidence for someone who can barely walk straight,

“i’m home!” you announce to no one in particular,

you drop your bag somewhere that is definitely not where it’s supposed to go,

and from the couch, ryul looks up and immediately starts grinning,

“oh wow,” he laughs, leaning back and watching you wobble in place, “you’re gone,”

you squint at him, “i am not..”

you take one step forward and nearly trip over nothing,

he snorts, “yeah, okay baby,”

you pout, trying to regain your balance, but your movements are slow and clumsy and honestly kind of all over the place,

he pushes himself off the couch, walking over like he’s watching a very entertaining show,

“how many drinks did it take this time?” he teases, circling you slightly like he’s inspecting you, “two? three?”

you gasp, offended, “more than that!”

he raises his eyebrows, clearly not believing you, “that’s even worse,”

you try to swat his arm, but miss completely,

he laughs again, catching your wrist before you can lose your balance,

“careful,” he says, still amused, “wouldn’t want you knocking your pretty face out,”

you lean into him without meaning to, your head dropping against his shoulder,

“you smell like alcohol,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose a little, but he doesn’t move away,

“you’re mean..” you mumble,

“i’m honest,” he corrects, smirking, “you really do,”

he tilts his head, looking down at your half lidded, heavy eyes and unfocused expression, clearly enjoying this way more than he should,

“you get so clingy when you’re drunk,” he points out,

“do not..”

you cling to him tighter,

he laughs softly, “don’t lie now,”

instead of rushing you to bed right away, he kind of drags it out, asking you random questions just to hear your slow, slurred answers,

“what’s my name?” he asks suddenly,

you look up at him like it’s the hardest question in the world,

“..ryul,”

“wow,” he says, mock impressed, “you got one right,”

you frown at him, but it doesn’t last long before you start giggling again,

he shakes his head, still smiling, “your alcohol tolerance is actually embarrassing,”

“shut up..”

“make me,” he shoots back, way too entertained,

you stare at him for a second, then suddenly grab his shirt and pull him down into a kiss,

it’s messy at first, uncoordinated, but you don’t seem to care,

he lets out a surprised laugh against your lips before kissing you back, a little deeper, and a little more amused than anything,

one hand comes up to your jaw, steadying you while you lean into him way too much,

the kiss drags on longer than it probably should, especially with how unbalanced you are, but he doesn’t pull away immediately, clearly enjoying himself,

and when he finally does, he looks at you with a smirk,

“well,” he mutters, brushing his thumb across your cheek, “at least you still know how to do that,”

you blink at him, dazed,

and he only chuckles,

eventually, when you start getting a little too wobbly again, he sighs, still amused tho, and finally decides to move you to your bedroom,

“alright, let’s get you to bed before you pass out standing up,” he says,

you barely walk, just stumbling along while he steadies you with his arms,

“next time,” he adds casually, “i’m coming with you, this is too funny to miss,”

you mumble something into his shoulder about out drinking him,

and he just smirks, “yeah, yeah,”

he drops you onto the bed, not as careful as he could be tbh, but still making sure you’re comfortable enough,

he tosses a blanket over you and looks down at you with that same teasing expression,

“lightweight,” he mutters,

you’re already half asleep as soon as you touch the bed,

he shakes his head, smiling to himself before turning off the light,

but not before kissing your forehead softly as a quiet ‘goodnight’

mlist ツ

It shows when his friends tease him endlessly about his habit of stumbling over his words, and his only reaction is to roll his eyes at them. It shows when his sister makes him get up at 5AM to queue for a special edition bag, and he only grumbles out a total of three complaints. It shows when his boss gives him a too short of a notice about a weeklong business trip, and all he can do is pack his luggage like it’s a race.

That’s why he desperately wishes it would show now, as he sneaks a glance at you from across the dinner table while Seungcheol holds him by the shoulder—barraging him with things he missed due to said business trip.

Mingyu clinks his glass of soju against Seungcheol’s and downs it before his eyes find you again.

You, dressed in a top with delicate straps tied into even more delicate bows. You, with your hair in that effortless updo that he always liked. You, sipping your drink with your glossy lips in a soft rosy shade that drives him crazy.

Contrary to Seungcheol’s eager ramblings, the only thing Mingyu missed during his trip was you.

You and Mingyu—along with your other friends Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Jihyo—have known each other since your college days. However, things began to change a few months ago when you developed an interest in running—suddenly influenced by numerous tiktok videos. Mingyu had been excited when you first mentioned it in the group chat and deemed himself your new “running partner” since the two of you lived closest to each other.

Since then, your time together slowly extended into the day—turning from a simple morning exercise to getting brunch together afterwards to spending the night at each other’s apartment because “We’re gonna go on a run tomorrow morning anyways. Might as well sleep over to save time.”

On one of those sleepover nights, Mingyu decided he's had enough. Something had shifted since you started spending more time together—charged moments where gazes lingered longer than necessary and quiet nights that encouraged you to share a bigger piece of yourselves with each other.

Although you've been part of the same friend group for years, it was still uncommon for just the two of you to meet frequently like this. Despite everyone’s busy schedules, the group chat managed to stay active and always made time to meet up.

It was normal for Mingyu to see you once a week or so—sometimes in a dirty T-shirt and mismatched socks for movie night at Wonwoo's, sometimes in coordinating outfits with Jihyo for dinner. And sometimes, he’d even play wingman to help you get a cute bartender’s number.

It was, however, not normal to squeeze onto your small couch just so he could wake up to you in the mornings. It wasn’t normal for him to run backwards so he could see the glow in your smile as the early sunlight shined on you. And it definitely wasn’t normal for Mingyu’s heart to race whenever he caught his mind drifting to you at random times in the day.

So when he shows up to your place without his usual bag of running gear and dressed in loose sweats, you give him a questioning look. “Running in sweatpants is definitely new for you.”

“No, it's not that,” he inhales deeply, lingering by the door, “I wanted to tell you something.”

You freeze in your spot, nodding at him to continue.

"I really like you. I want to be more than a friend. I know this will change a lot of things for us but it was driving me crazy not being able to tell you how I feel," he says softly, inching closer to you. His eyes are rounded and full of affection as he takes your hands in his, "I love being with you and spending time with you. You feel it too, right?"

Your eyes well up with tears as your brain catches up with everything you just heard. If you were being honest, your newfound crush on Mingyu had been your biggest worry recently. Mingyu has always been a good friend, but being in close proximity to him and taken care of by him did stir all the butterflies in your stomach. You had spent countless nights staring at your ceiling, trying to make sense of your feelings, and gathering the courage to tell him.

You roll your lips between your teeth, attempting to hide your smile, "Was it because I kept staring at your chest and ass when we run?"

He throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, "Well, I can't lie and say I wasn't doing the same thing."

Your smile spreads wider across your face, "Okay, let's call it even then."

Mingyu tugs your body towards his and wraps you in a firm hug. You lean into him, taking the warmth of his body in as he pats your hair tenderly.

"So are we still going on our run tomorrow or what?," you mumble against his chest.

“You wouldn’t happen to have some of my running clothes lying around, would ya?”

—

As it turns out, you did have an extra set of his clothes by your dresser. He did spend the night. You did go on that run together. And like always, Mingyu did buy you brunch afterwards.

But before he could even celebrate his first 24 hours as your boyfriend, an email from his boss showed up—an emergency request for his presence at a conference being held across the country. He had left your apartment begrudgingly as you kissed him goodbye and promised to wait for his call when he landed.

It has been exactly one week since then.

As soon as he landed back home, he had rushed to the restaurant where you were currently having dinner with the rest of your friends. Much to his disappointment, you had been caught in conversation with Seungkwan and Jihyo when he arrived, allowing Seungcheol to drag Mingyu into the seat between him and Wonwoo.

And that was an hour ago.

So if you ask Mingyu, he’d like to think he’s been patient enough. Patiently waiting to see you again, to have a moment with you, to make up the long seven days without you.

The sudden surge of emotions makes him restless. He slumps lower into his chair and shakes his legs, feeling miffed at the entire situation. There's no way Seungcheol has that much to update him on, right? And why have Seungkwan and Jihyo been hogging your attention all night? The last time he checked, you're his girlfriend, not theirs.

“Kim Mingyu. Lighten up a little," Seungkwan chides, yanking him from his cloud of thoughts.

He scowls at Seungkwan then sighs, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Mingyu sends you a weak smile and mouths a discreet “meet me there” before he pulls away from Seungcheol and heads to the restroom, patting cold water onto his face and neck.

When he steps out, he sees you waiting for him in the corner of the small corridor that leads back out to the dining area, tucking your lip gloss and compact mirror back into your bag.

A smile blooms on your face when you notice him.

“Hi.”

Mingyu manages to rasp out a soft hey back before he presses his full weight into you, face buried in your hair and hands snaked around your waist.

You're surrounded by his body heat and the faint woody notes of cologne. You’ve been giddy all day thinking about seeing him again and the feeling of being in his hold after so long makes your stomach flip.

Mingyu finally pulls away to look at you. “Missed me?”

Your stomach does a second flip. He looks devastating. His hair is tousled against his forehead, eyes bright and glassy, small mole dotting his nose perfectly, and lips pulled into a slight pout.

Your hands tighten against his lower back as you interlock your fingers together and whisper against his lips, “So much.”

Mingyu instantly leans forward to close the distance, slotting his lips against yours. His kiss is filled with so much fervor, as if he couldn’t waste any more time not kissing you.

It takes you a second to react; you’ve only kissed Mingyu a handful of times between the night you confessed to each other and him leaving for his work trip—all of which have been short and sweet.

But this kiss is heavy and passionate, his lips moving over yours with intense focus. You’ve never seen him this worked up before but it’s a new side of him that makes your skin tingle with anticipation.

Once you get out of your initial shock, you kiss him back with equal force, hands moving to roam across the broad stretch of his back muscles. You nibble playfully at his bottom lip before giving it a particular harsh suck. He sighs into your mouth as you soothe your tongue over the seam of his lips.

Mingyu reluctantly pulls away first, “I missed you so bad. So so bad.”

You can feel his rough hands absentmindedly toy with the hem of your top, fingertips pressing into your skin.

Your chest heaves against his as you beam up at him, “I can tell.”

Mingyu swears your eyes twinkled when you smiled at him and he has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. His eyes lazily trace the shape of your lips before coming back to hold your gaze.

“This lip gloss shade is killing me,” he says, tongue darting out to lightly lick at your lips.

Mingyu can only stare as you reach up to thumb away your smudged lipgloss by the corner of his lips and chin. His vision is a little hazy but he manages to focus on your lips. The rosy tint has lost most of its shine and color by now, replaced by a soft kiss-swollen hue (Mingyu has half a mind to boast about him being the cause of it) but it’s still pulling him in with the exact same force it did when he first arrived.

“Baby, please,” he swallows hard, but his voice comes out in a dry whisper, “Last one, I promise.”

He ducks his head to capture your lips in another heated kiss. His hands alternate between your waist and ass, only pausing to knead the plump flesh of your hips once in a while.

You pull away from him, trying to catch your breath. “How was your flight back?”

“You’re asking all the wrong questions.”

He leans in, attempting another kiss but you dodge his lips as your hand comes up to cover them.

Your smirk is playful as you say, “I thought you said that was the last one.”

"I take it back," he muffles into your hand before licking it, causing you to yelp and clutch his shirt.

He cups your face firmly and tilts your head towards him, “You’re so beautiful.” Then a wet kiss on your jaw.

"My pretty girl.” A gentle bite onto the side of your neck.

He trails light kisses down your throat and makes his way to the dip by your collarbone. You can’t help but let out soft moans at the sensation as Mingyu continues to suck slowly at the spot.

His lips travel to the curve of your shoulder, where his fingers start to fiddle with the thin ends of your tie straps.

He pulls at it teasingly before letting out a choked laugh, “How functional is this?”

“It’s cute,” you whine in defense.

You lightly pinch his sides to get his attention before you pull him into a kiss of your own, swiping your tongue against his. Your hands move in between your bodies, one pressed against his chest while the other cups his neck. This time, it’s your turn to suck and lick at it as he groans. You pick a spot right in the middle, just below his adam’s apple and continue to nip lightly.

“Baby,” he warns with low moan.

You hum a distracted response, pressing quick pecks all over his cheeks with a final kiss placed on top of his heart through his shirt.

He slumps against you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. You can hear his breathing slowly move from a pant to a steady rhythm.

You gently card your fingers through his hair and press your nose into his temple. “You okay?”

His sigh turns into a dry laugh, “Babe. Whatever happens, let’s never do long distance. Look at what one week apart does to us.”

“That’s just because you’re clingy. I was fine.”

He shifts to narrow his eyes up at you, “I must've kissed you so good, your memories ended up getting jumbled.”

Your cheeks redden, as you giggle and lightly shove him away. “Whatever you say, loverboy. We should head back now.”

He grins as he follows you back to your table, in a much lighter mood than before. Wonwoo eyes him carefully as he settles back into his seat and nods at Seungcheol to take a look. Mingyu manages to stuff a piece of pork belly into his mouth before Seungcheol knocks his chopsticks out of his hands and grabs his collar to inspect his neck.

“Bro.”

Before Mingyu can even respond, the entire table's attention is drawn by Seungkwan who has his hands around your neck, as he shrieks, "What is that?!"