Lespoir () Jung Hoseok ()

l’espoir (희망) – jung hoseok (정호석)

✧.* 18+

cooking had always been more than just a necessity; it was an art form, an expression of emotion, culture, and memory. each dish was a canvas, and the ingredients were the paints, their vibrant colors and textures inviting the imagination to run wild. the kitchen, with its warm, ambient light and the comforting hum of the stove, became a sanctuary where creativity flowed freely.

the process began with the careful selection of ingredients, each one chosen with purpose and care. the rich, earthy scent of freshly picked herbs mingled with the sweet aroma of ripe tomatoes, their skins still glistening with the morning dew. the produce, with its natural imperfections, held a rustic beauty that promised authenticity. the meats, marbled and tender, were selected with an understanding of their unique qualities, each cut a potential masterpiece waiting to be realized.

as the knife danced across the cutting board, there was a rhythm to the motion, a graceful precision that came with years of practice. the crisp snap of a carrot giving way under the blade, the soft thud of a tomato being sliced, and the aromatic release of a garlic clove being crushed—each sound was a note in the symphony of preparation. the senses were fully engaged; the eyes, tracing the vibrant colors that slowly melded together; the nose, inhaling the complex layers of scents that hinted at the flavors to come; the ears, catching the subtle sizzles and crackles as the heat worked its magic.

the heat of the stove brought everything to life, transforming raw ingredients into something greater than the sum of their parts. the onions caramelized slowly, their sharpness mellowing into a deep, golden sweetness. the meats seared to perfection, a satisfying sizzle filling the air as the juices locked in, creating a rich, savory crust. sauces reduced in a patient dance of evaporation and intensification, their once separate flavors now blending into a harmonious whole.

every movement in the kitchen was deliberate, yet there was room for spontaneity, a sudden dash of spice, a last-minute decision to add a touch of lemon zest. cooking was an intuitive dance between tradition and innovation, where recipes handed down through generations met the creative impulses of the moment. It was in this balance that true culinary artistry was born, where the cook's soul was infused into each dish. plating the food was the final act, a chance to present the creation as a visual feast before it was consumed. the vibrant colors of the vegetables, the artful arrangement of proteins, and the careful drizzle of sauces—all were carefully considered to make the dish as pleasing to the eyes as it was to the palate. the plate was the frame, and the food, the artwork, each detail telling a story, each bite an experience.

cooking was more than a task to be completed; it was a journey, a way to communicate without words, to share a part of oneself with others. it was an act of love, a gesture of care, and a celebration of the simple yet profound joy of nourishment. in the kitchen, every dish was a story waiting to be told, a story crafted with the hands, guided by the heart, and shared with those who gathered around the table.

you had never thought much about cooking. it seemed like a mundane task, something that simply had to be done to keep hunger at bay. eggs and instant noodles had always sufficed, their simplicity mirroring your indifference. you often wondered why anyone would spend hours in the kitchen when a meal could be whipped up in minutes. the aroma of a slowly simmering stew or the sight of a beautifully arranged plate held little meaning for you. but that was before everything changed, before your mother fell ill.

her illness crept up slowly, stealing her strength bit by bit until the vibrant woman who had always filled your home with the scent of home-cooked meals could no longer stand for more than a few minutes. the kitchen, once her domain, grew silent, the once lively space now cold and empty. it was then that you realized how much you had taken those meals for granted, how much they had been a part of your life without you even noticing.

with your mother unable to cook for herself, you were thrust into a role you had never imagined. you could have continued with the instant noodles, could have resigned yourself to the blandness of quick and easy meals. but something inside you resisted. you saw the way your mother looked at the untouched pots and pans, the sadness in her eyes as she realized she could no longer provide for you in the way she always had. it was then that you decided to try, to step into the kitchen and see if you could recreate even a fraction of what she used to make.

at first, it was a struggle. you were clumsy, your hands unfamiliar with the rhythm of chopping, stirring, and seasoning. the internet became your guide, recipes your lifeline as you navigated this new world. you searched for dishes she loved, simple at first—soups, stews, anything that might bring her comfort. the first few attempts were far from perfect. you burnt the rice, overcooked the vegetables, and the seasoning was always slightly off. but your mother never complained. she would smile as she tasted each dish, her eyes softening with pride, even when you knew it wasn’t quite right.

as the days turned into weeks, you began to notice a change in yourself. the kitchen, once an alien landscape, started to feel familiar. you learned to savor the process, to enjoy the way ingredients came together to form something new, something that brought a smile to your mother’s face. the care you put into each meal became a form of expression, a way to show her how much you loved her, how much you wanted to take care of her as she had taken care of you.

with time, your confidence grew. you experimented more, tried new techniques, and even began to create your own dishes. your mother’s reactions fueled your passion; the way she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly after the first bite, the way she would eagerly ask what was on the menu for the day. cooking became more than just a duty—it became a way to connect with her, to bring her joy in a time when there was so little of it left.

when she passed, the loss was unbearable. the kitchen, once filled with purpose, became a place of grief. But instead of abandoning it, you found yourself drawn to it, almost as if by instinct. cooking became a way to keep her memory alive, a way to honor the woman who had taught you to love food, even if she hadn’t done so intentionally. each meal was a tribute to her, a way to thank her for introducing you to something that brought you peace, something that made you feel closer to her even though she was gone.

it wasn’t long before you decided to take your passion further. culinary school was an intimidating prospect, but you felt ready. you entered with the same trepidation you had felt when you first stepped into the kitchen, but also with the same determination. the instructors taught you the finer points of the craft, but you always added a piece of yourself into each dish, just as you had done when cooking for your mother. your ideas were met with curiosity and admiration. you presented dishes that reflected your journey, from the humble grilled squid stew that reminded you of your early experiments to the bold korean barbecue sandwiches that showcased your creativity and confidence. each dish was crafted with care, infused with the love and respect you had for the process. you passed the program not just because of your skill, but because of the heart you put into every plate.

cooking had become more than just a way to feed yourself or others; it had become a way to tell your story, to express who you were and where you came from. every time you stood in the kitchen, you felt her presence, guiding your hands as you chopped, stirred, and seasoned. and as you watched others enjoy the food you prepared, their smiles reminded you of her, of the way she had once smiled at you, and you knew that you had found something truly special.

when the opportunity for an internship at l’espoir presented itself, you felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. you had been through so much already, from your first fumbling steps in the kitchen to the rigorous challenges of culinary school. and now, here you were, standing on the brink of something new. the name of the restaurant itself resonated with you in a way that felt almost fated. l’espoir. hope. it was a simple word, yet it carried such profound meaning, especially for someone like you, who had found in cooking the one thing that kept you grounded, the one thing that still made you happy.

you had nothing against the idea of working there—on the contrary, you were drawn to it. there was something poetic about the name, something that spoke to your soul. cooking had always been more than just a means of sustenance; it was your connection to your past, your way of honoring your mother, and the very essence of hope. so when you accepted the offer, it wasn’t with trepidation or reluctance, but with a quiet, simmering excitement. this, you thought, could be your fresh start.

the day you walked through the doors of l’espoir for the first time, the air was thick with the mingling aromas of herbs, garlic, and roasting meats. the kitchen was a hive of activity, yet it was orchestrated with the precision of a symphony. there was a rhythm to the place, a kind of dance that the chefs performed with their knives, pans, and ladles. the hiss of oil in a hot pan, the clatter of plates being set down, the low hum of focused conversation—all of it combined to create a world that was at once chaotic and harmonious.

the chef in charge was a figure of quiet authority. you had heard of chef jung before, his reputation preceding him like the fragrant bouquet of a well-seasoned broth. he was not known for being flamboyant or loud, but rather for his meticulous attention to detail, his ability to coax the most delicate flavors from even the simplest ingredients. his presence commanded respect, not through fear, but through the sheer weight of his expertise and the dedication he inspired in those who worked under him.

when you were introduced, he looked at you with eyes that seemed to assess everything in a single glance. he was attractive, with brown threads running through his dark hair, and his chef’s whites were as crisp and clean as the linens in the dining room. there was a calmness about him, a confidence that came from years of experience, but also a warmth that hinted at a genuine love for his craft. he extended a hand, his grip firm but not crushing, and welcomed you to his kitchen.

“bienvenue à l’espoir,” he said, his voice steady and rich. “i trust you’re ready to work.” you nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. it was the start of something new, something that could shape the course of your life. the kitchen was no longer just a place to cook; it was a stage, and you were about to step into a role that would challenge you in ways you couldn’t yet imagine.

you learned quickly that chef jung hoseok was not the warm, encouraging figure you had once imagined. there was an air of severity about him, a sharpness that seemed to permeate every corner of the kitchen. from the moment you set foot in l’espoir, you were acutely aware that this place was not a haven of creativity and shared passion but rather a crucible, designed to burn away anything that wasn’t absolute perfection. hoseok was at the center of it all, a man whose entire being seemed devoted to the pursuit of culinary excellence, and nothing else.

his presence was commanding, but not in the way that inspires admiration or loyalty. Instead, it instilled a sense of dread, a fear of making even the smallest mistake. he had a way of watching you, his gaze sharp and unyielding, that made you question every movement, every decision you made. there was no room for error in his kitchen, no margin for anything less than flawless execution. his standards were exacting, his expectations clear in the curt, precise way he delivered instructions. any hope you might have had for guidance or mentorship was quickly dashed—there, you were expected to perform, and to perform perfectly.

as you followed his directives, each task assigned with a precision that bordered on obsession, you felt the weight of his scrutiny. the kitchen, once a place of solace and creativity for you, had become a place of tension, where every clatter of a pan or slip of a knife carried the potential for rebuke. there was no room for error, no space for growth; only the relentless pursuit of perfection under hoseok’s watchful eye.

you were immersed in your work, the steady rhythm of chopping vegetables the only thing keeping your nerves at bay, when you felt a presence beside you. a girl had approached, her demeanor bright and friendly, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hoseok cultivated. she leaned in slightly, peering over your shoulder with a curious expression that quickly melted into a warm smile. “your knife skills are really impressive,” she remarked, her voice light and genuine, a welcome relief in the otherwise tense environment.

you glanced up, meeting her gaze with a slight smile of your own. it was the first bit of kindness you had encountered since stepping into this kitchen, and it was enough to ease some of the tension that had been building in your chest. “thank you,” you replied, your voice tinged with gratitude. as you spoke, you noticed the meticulously arranged assortment of seasonings at her station. wach jar and container was perfectly aligned, the spices within organized by color and texture, a testament to her own care and precision. “your seasonings are beautifully arranged,” you added, genuinely impressed by her attention to detail.

she beamed at the compliment, a touch of pride in her expression. “i like to keep them organized. it makes experimenting with flavors a lot easier when everything’s in its place.” there was something infectious about her enthusiasm, a brightness that seemed to push back the shadows that hoseok’s presence cast over the kitchen. it was a small comfort, but in that place, even the smallest comfort felt like a lifeline.

“i’m park chaeyoung, by the way,” she said, extending a hand to you in a gesture that felt almost old-fashioned in its sincerity. you took her hand, finding her grip warm and reassuring. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m—”

before you could finish your introduction, she cut you off with a knowing look. “have you met chef jung yet?” she asked, her tone more serious now, as if she was preparing you for something you hadn’t yet understood. you nodded, the memory of your brief, formal introduction still fresh in your mind. “yeah, he welcomed me and then put me straight to work.”

chaeyoung let out a soft, almost derisive laugh, shaking her head slightly. “rhat sounds like him. work is all he cares about.” her voice held a hint of bitterness, the kind that comes from experience, from seeing too much and saying too little. she hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully, before leaning in slightly closer. “you need to be careful around him.”

The warning was subtle, almost whispered, but it struck you with an unexpected force. there was something in her tone, a depth of concern that went beyond the usual advice given to new interns. you could feel the weight of her words, the implication that there was more to hoseok than just his stern demeanor and strict standards. “what do you mean?” you began, your curiosity piqued, but before she could respond, the sound of a door opening interrupted the moment.

you turned just in time to see hoseok emerge from his office, his presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the room. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his eyes scanning the kitchen with the precision of a hawk. every movement, every sound seemed to be registered, cataloged in his mind as he took stock of the ongoing work. there was a moment of stillness, the kitchen holding its collective breath as he surveyed the scene.

then his gaze locked onto one of the other cooks, a young woman named kim dahyun. she looked up at him, her face lighting up with a smile that was almost childlike in its adoration. it was as if his very presence was enough to make her day, her entire being focused on him as if nothing else mattered. “dahyun,” he said, his voice cutting through the air with the same precision as one of his knives. “come to my office.”

she practically leapt to her feet, her eagerness visible as she hurried over to him. there was something unsettling about the way she reacted to him, a kind of blind devotion that seemed out of place in a professional kitchen. she followed him into his office without a moment’s hesitation, the door closing behind them with a quiet finality. you couldn’t help but feel a chill run down your spine as you watched them go. there was something about the exchange that felt wrong, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. it wasn’t just the power dynamic at play—though that was certainly part of it—it was something more, something unspoken that lingered in the air long after they had disappeared from view.

chaeyoung’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to her. “do you see what i mean now?” she asked, her tone a mix of concern and resignation. there was a sadness in her eyes, a look that told you she had seen this play out before, that she knew where it would lead. but you shook your head, still unsure of what she was trying to convey. the confusion must have been evident on your face, because she sighed softly, her expression softening as she looked at you with a mixture of pity and understanding.

“you’ll find out soon enough,” she said quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow that made your heart sink. “just be careful. that’s all i’m saying.” with that, she turned back to her station, leaving you to grapple with the unease that had settled in your chest. the warmth and friendliness that had initially put you at ease were now overshadowed by a sense of foreboding, a feeling that there were things in this kitchen you had yet to understand, and that understanding them might cost you more than you were prepared to give.

the day had worn on relentlessly, each task blurring into the next until you lost track of time. the kitchen was a relentless machine, and you had been one of its many moving parts, a cog in the grand design orchestrated by chef jung. the relentless pace of service had demanded every ounce of your focus, leaving no room for distractions or second thoughts. each dish you plated, each garnish you placed, was an offering, a testament to the skill you had fought so hard to hone.

as the evening crept into night, the rush of orders began to slow, the once frantic energy in the kitchen tapering off into something quieter, more subdued. you found yourself still working, your hands moving on autopilot as you plated the last few dishes with the same care and precision you had started with. it wasn’t until you placed the final plate on the pass that you realized the noise had died down entirely.

you glanced around, noticing for the first time that the other chefs had finished their shifts and were long gone. the kitchen, once bustling with life, was now eerily silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the overhead lights and the faint clatter of pots and pans as you began to clear your station. you hadn’t even noticed that you were the last one standing, too absorbed in the rhythm of the work to register the passage of time.

with a quiet sigh, you began to return the ingredients to their proper places, meticulously ensuring that everything was as it should be. your movements were slow, almost practiced, as the exhaustion of the day finally began to catch up with you. every muscle in your body ached, but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that you had made it through your first day unscathed—or so you thought.

as you turned around to grab the plates from the counter, your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. there, standing in the dim light of the kitchen, was hoseok. he was so still, so silent, that you hadn’t noticed him at all, and the shock of his sudden presence nearly made the plates slip from your hands. you caught them just in time, fumbling slightly as you tried to regain your composure. his expression was unreadable, the same stoic mask he had worn all day. there was a heaviness in the air, a palpable tension that made your breath hitch in your throat. “chef jung,” you managed to say, your voice betraying the nervousness that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. “did you need anything?”

for a moment, he said nothing, simply observing you with that intense, unwavering gaze that you were beginning to find so unsettling. then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “you did a good job today,” he said, his tone flat, almost devoid of emotion. it was the closest thing to praise you had received all day, and yet it felt strangely hollow. you nodded, a nervous laugh escaping you as you turned back to put away the plates and tidy up what was left on the counter. your hands moved quickly, more out of a desire to escape the uncomfortable silence than anything else. but no matter how fast you worked, you could still feel his eyes on you, that penetrating stare that seemed to see through every facade you tried to put up.

it wasn’t until you heard the soft, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps that you realized he was moving closer. slowly, deliberately, he approached, each step measured and precise, like a predator closing in on its prey. the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, a sense of dread settling over you as you continued to work, pretending not to notice how close he was getting. but then, before you knew it, he was right in front of you, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the kitchen. you froze, your hands stilling as the tension between you reached a boiling point. the counter behind you pressed into your lower back as you instinctively backed away, trying to put some distance between you and the chef who now towered over you.

your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked up at him, your mind racing to make sense of the situation. there was something different in his eyes now, something dark and unreadable, a flicker of something that made your skin prickle with unease. you couldn’t look away, trapped by his gaze, unable to move as the air seemed to thicken around you.

“i take good care of my employees,” hoseok said, his voice low, almost a whisper. the words hung in the air, heavy with implication. “especially the ones that know what they’re doing.”

he paused, letting the weight of his statement sink in. the smirk that followed was small, barely noticeable, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless. there was a calculated cruelty in it, a reminder that you were playing a game whose rules you didn’t fully understand. the look of shock on your face must have amused him, because the smirk deepened, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a way that was anything but friendly. he held your gaze for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch out until it became unbearable, before finally turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

you stood there, rooted to the spot, your mind reeling from the encounter. the exhaustion that had weighed you down only moments ago was now replaced by a new kind of fatigue, one born of fear and uncertainty. his words echoed in your mind, a reminder that you had only just begun to scratch the surface of what it meant to work under a man like him. and as the silence of the kitchen closed in around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the real challenge lay ahead, hidden behind the inscrutable mask of the man who had just left you standing there in astonishment.

the next morning at l’espoir was a blur of activity, the kitchen bustling with the early rush of orders and the frenetic energy that came with the start of a new day. as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the unnerving encounter with hoseok the night before. the more you thought about it, the more the details seemed to gnaw at you, leaving you with a gnawing sense of unease.

in a brief lull between the chaos, you seized the opportunity to speak with chaeyoung, hoping for some clarity. she was at her station, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she expertly wielded her knife. you approached her, the question weighing heavily on your mind. “chaeyoung,” you began, trying to keep your tone casual despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. “last night, hoseok—chef jung—he said something that really threw me off. he said he takes good care of his employees, especially the ones who know what they’re doing. what did he mean by that?”

her eyes widened in surprise, and she set her knife down with a decisive thud. her gaze was fixed on you, a mixture of shock and concern crossing her features. “that was faster than i thought,” she said, her voice laced with a gravity that made your stomach churn. desperation tinged your voice as you pleaded with her for an explanation. “what do you mean? please, just tell me what’s going on.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a single word, the same voice that had cut through the atmosphere the previous day filled the kitchen once more. chef hoseok’s presence was unmistakable, his authority evident even from a distance. he appeared in the doorway, his stance casual but his expression unreadable. “seo soojin,” he called out, his tone commanding and precise. the moment the name left his lips, the kitchen seemed to hold its breath.

you turned to see soojin, another fellow cook, visibly excited as she looked up at hoseok. her face lit up with a smile that was almost childlike, a contrast to the stern expression you had come to associate with him. without a moment’s hesitation, she followed him out of the kitchen, her steps light and eager. dahyun, who had been bustling around earlier with a beaming expression, now stood with a look of disappointed resignation. her eyes followed soojin and hoseok as they disappeared through the door, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she had expected something different.

as you watched the scene unfold, hoseok’s gaze met yours for a brief, unsettling moment. there was that smirk again, a fleeting expression that seemed to carry a weight of its own. he held your gaze just long enough to make you feel uncomfortable before turning back toward soojin, leaving you standing there with a knot of confusion in your chest. you turned back to chaeyoung, your confusion evident. “what’s going on? why does he keep doing this?”

chaeyoung let out a heavy sigh, turning to face you fully. her expression was one of resignation, her eyes filled with an emotion that was hard to decipher. “you will never be special no matter how good you are,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a weight that made your heart sink. there was no malice in her tone, but the words were stark and cold, cutting through the air with an unspoken finality. she paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “don’t let him make you think you’re special. he has a way of making you believe you’re important, but it’s all a part of the game he plays. you’re just another cog in the machine.”

without waiting for a response, she turned back to her station, picking up her knife and resuming her work with a practiced efficiency. the clatter of the knife against the cutting board was the only sound that filled the silence that followed, the atmosphere in the kitchen heavy with the weight of her words. you stood there, rooted to the spot, your mind spinning with the implications of what she had said. the confusion that had settled over you was now compounded by a growing sense of foreboding.

the kitchen was a symphony of clattering pans, the hiss of flames, and the murmur of orders being called out and fulfilled with practiced precision. you moved through it all with a growing sense of unease, still rattled by the strange dynamics you had witnessed earlier. the incident with soojin played over in your mind, intertwining with chaeyoung's cryptic warnings, leaving you with a gnawing sense of dread.

hours passed in a blur of activity, the rhythm of the kitchen demanding your full attention, but even as you focused on your tasks, a part of you remained on edge. And then, just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the routine, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. the familiar presence of chef hoseok filled the room, his energy commanding and intense. you were used to him surveying the kitchen with a critical eye, but this time, he wasn’t simply observing.

to everyone’s astonishment, including your own, hoseok called out your name. the room seemed to freeze as he paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before continuing. “come to my office.”

a shiver ran down your spine, your blood running cold as chaeyoung’s eyes widened in shock. she turned to you with a look of apprehension, and you could see the fear reflected in her gaze, as though she had been waiting for this very moment and dreading it all the same. you nodded weakly, the motion almost imperceptible, as you tried to steady your breathing. with leaden feet, you followed him out of the kitchen, feeling the envious glares from many of the female cooks boring into your back. the intensity of their stares made your skin prickle with discomfort, but you swallowed your fear, forcing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure.

the walk to his office felt interminable, every step echoing in your mind with a sense of finality. when you finally reached his door, it creaked open with an ominous slowness, revealing the space within. the office was stark and minimalistic, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. the walls were a cold, muted gray, devoid of any decoration save for a single, large window that overlooked the city. the desk was made of dark, polished wood, a few neatly stacked papers and a sleek laptop the only items adorning its surface. a single chair sat opposite his, the leather worn but comfortable, a place where countless others had sat before you.

hoseok moved behind his desk with a certain predatory grace, settling into his chair and fixing you with a smirk that sent another shiver down your spine. the silence in the room was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that made your heart race. you stood there, feeling out of place, as though you were trespassing in a space where you didn’t belong. his eyes remained on you, studying your every move as you finally gathered the courage to speak. “why did you need to see me, chef jung?”

he was silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, and then, with a calculated slowness, he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “you’ve got a special gift, don’t you?” the question took you off guard, and you furrowed your brow in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“for cooking,” he clarified, though his tone carried an edge of something more. “you’re an outstanding chef.” you forced a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the compliment that felt more like a trap. “thank you, chef jung.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were measuring your reaction, and then he continued, his voice smooth and deliberate. “performance means everything to me. in the kitchen, maybe even in the office.” the sound of his words hung in the air, and a sense of unease tightened your chest. you frowned, trying to keep your voice steady as you asked, “what do you mean by that?”

instead of answering, hoseok stood up from his chair with a fluid motion, his eyes never leaving yours. as he approached, you instinctively backed away, your heels hitting the wall behind you. the cold surface pressed into your back, trapping you as he moved closer, his presence overwhelming and suffocating. he was mere inches away from you now, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low purr. “you’re a pretty girl,” he murmured, his tone almost mocking. “a shy one too, it seems.”

your breath caught in your throat, your mind scrambling for a way out of this situation. his gaze was piercing, intense, and when you turned your head to avoid it, he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “what’s this?” he asked, his voice laced with a cruel curiosity. “you really don’t want to sleep with me?”

his question hit you like a slap to the face, your eyes widening in shock as the reality of the situation clicked into place. the pieces of the puzzle—the office visits, the strange behavior of the female cooks, chaeyoung’s warnings—all fell together with a sickening clarity. a scoff escaped your lips, more out of disbelief than anything else. “why would i want to sleep with you?”

hoseok’s expression faltered, surprise flickering in his eyes as though he hadn’t expected such a response. you could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to reconcile your reaction with whatever twisted game he was playing. you pressed on, the anger rising in your chest as you confronted him. “do you bring all of your female cooks in here just to sleep with them? what kind of restaurant is this?”

the question hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, the power dynamic between you shifted. his gaze hardened, the smirk fading as his expression turned cold. “watch what you say,” he warned, his tone icy. but the fear that had gripped you before was gone, replaced by a fiery determination. “or what?” you shot back, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “you’ll fire me?”

he seemed genuinely taken aback, as if no one had ever dared to stand up to him before. his eyes searched yours, trying to find a crack in your resolve, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction. “no need to fire me,” you continued, your voice firm. “because i quit.”

the words were final, a declaration of your independence from whatever twisted game he had been playing. you could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that someone had dared to defy him. “you have some balls to think i’d sleep with you,” you added, your voice dripping with contempt. “and for what? you’re an asshole who takes advantage of women for the price of an overcooked steak.” his eyes were wide, his face a mask of astonishment as you slipped off your uniform coat jacket, the fabric heavy in your hands. with a final, defiant glare, you slammed it down on his desk, the sound reverberating through the silent office. without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out, leaving the door ajar behind you.

the night air was cool as you walked home, the city lights a blur of distant halos against the encroaching darkness. each step felt heavier than the last, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl of emotions as the gravity of what you had just done began to settle in. the confrontation with hoseok replayed in your mind on an endless loop—his smirk, his words, your defiance. In the moment, it had felt powerful, even righteous, but now, with the adrenaline fading, a different sensation began to take hold.

by the time you reached the front door of your small apartment, the realization of your actions had fully sunk in. you paused, your hand trembling slightly as you reached for the keys in your pocket. the quiet creak of the door as it swung open felt like the final sound before the storm. you stepped inside, the familiar scent of home offering a fleeting sense of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to quell the rising tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

the door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly, the weight of the evening pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. you stood there, motionless, in the middle of your living room, the silence around you amplifying the chaos in your mind. the tears came slowly at first, a single drop trailing down your cheek as the full impact of what you had done crashed over you like a wave. you had just walked out on your internship, on the one opportunity that was supposed to be your stepping stone into the culinary world. hoseok was an asshole, yes, a man who clearly enjoyed taking advantage of his position, using his authority to charm his way into the beds of his female employees. but he hadn’t forced anyone—everything he did was consensual. so why had you been so angry, so furious that you had thrown away everything you had worked for?

you sank down onto the couch, your body trembling as the tears began to flow more freely. it wasn’t just about hoseok’s arrogance, his assumption that you would be willing to trade your dignity for his approval, though that stung deeply. it was the way he had discredited your culinary abilities entirely, reducing you to nothing more than a pretty face in his kitchen. the care and passion you had poured into your cooking, the countless hours spent honing your craft, all of it had been dismissed with a casual smirk and a lecherous comment.

you pressed your hands to your face, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body. it felt as though the ground beneath you had crumbled, leaving you adrift in a sea of doubt and regret. you had been so proud to land this internship, so eager to prove yourself, and now it was all slipping away. the memories of your mother flooded your mind—her gentle smile as she tasted your first attempts at cooking, the way she had encouraged you to follow your passion, the pride in her eyes when you were accepted into culinary school. all of it, you feared, was being tossed into the abyss along with your future.

your sobs grew louder, your chest heaving with the force of your despair. you had wanted so badly to succeed, to make your mother proud, and now it felt like you had failed her, failed yourself. you couldn’t imagine what would happen next—whether you would be blacklisted, your reputation tarnished, or if this was the end of your dreams altogether. the sound of your phone buzzing broke through your sobs, the sudden noise startling you. you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your vision blurry as you fumbled to pull your phone from your pocket.

the screen glowed in the dim light, an unknown number displayed across it. for a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as a flood of possibilities rushed through your mind. slowly, you unlocked the phone and opened the message. the words on the screen made your breath catch in your throat: “this is hoseok. be ready for work tomorrow. come on time.”

your eyes widened in shock, the tears still clinging to your lashes as you stared at the message in disbelief. you read it over and over, each time hoping that you hadn’t misread it, that it wasn’t some cruel joke. but the message remained the same, clear and concise, with no hint of the malice or arrogance you had come to expect from him. a fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they weren’t tears of despair. you cried out in a mixture of relief and gratitude, your voice breaking as you whispered, “thank you.” the words felt inadequate, too small to convey the whirlwind of emotions that surged through you—relief, disbelief, hope. you had been certain that you were finished, that you had burned the bridge beyond repair, but now, against all odds, hoseok was giving you another chance.

you clutched the phone to your chest, your tears flowing freely as you continued to murmur your thanks, as if by doing so you could somehow ensure that this second chance was real, that it wouldn’t slip away from you. the room around you was a blur, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and gratitude, but one thing was clear—you had been given an unexpected opportunity to prove yourself once more.

the early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the restaurant, casting a soft glow across the kitchen as you stepped inside. the space was quiet, the usual bustle of the day not yet begun, and the stillness allowed you a moment to steady yourself. the memory of last night was still fresh, the relief of hoseok’s message warring with the anxiety that had built up since then. you had come in early, determined to prove yourself, to show that you deserved the second chance he had inexplicably given you.

as you made your way through the kitchen, the faint sounds of someone already at work reached your ears—soft chopping, the gentle sizzle of something on the stove. you hesitated at the doorway, your eyes falling on hoseok, who stood alone at one of the stations. he moved with a kind of graceful precision, each action deliberate and practiced, as though he were conducting a symphony of flavors. his focus was entirely on the task before him, but even from this distance, you could see the ease with which he worked, the confidence in his every movement.

for a moment, you just watched him, awed by the skill that had made him such a formidable figure in the culinary world. he was the man whose name alone commanded respect, whose kitchen you had been so eager to join. and here he was, caramelizing onions with a level of care that spoke to a deep understanding of his craft. the rich, sweet scent filled the air, mingling with the subtle heat of the kitchen, and you found yourself momentarily entranced by the simplicity of the process.

it was then that you noticed something—he was stirring the onions more than you thought necessary. the instinctive urge to offer advice welled up inside you, but you fought it, knowing that you were in no position to critique a chef of his caliber. but before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, almost without your permission. “chef, you shouldn’t stir so much,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the sound carried in the quiet kitchen.

the moment the words left your lips, regret hit you like a wave. how could you be so foolish? he was the same man who had just given you a chance to redeem yourself, and here you were, criticizing his technique. your heart raced as you waited for the inevitable rebuke, the sharp reprimand that you were sure was coming. you had spoken out of turn, overstepping boundaries, and now you were certain that your second chance was about to be snatched away as quickly as it had been given.

but instead of anger, instead of the cold dismissal you had expected, hoseok paused. he stood still for a moment, as if considering your words, before he slowly turned to face you. his eyes met yours, and you felt a jolt of fear mixed with confusion at the look he gave you—calm, measured, and without a hint of the scorn you had braced yourself for. “you’re right,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of acknowledgment rather than irritation. “they’ll brown faster if i don’t stir so much.”

the surprise that washed over you was almost as strong as the initial fear. your eyes widened in disbelief, and you barely managed to stammer out a response. but before you could say anything, he smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips that softened the usually stern lines of his face. the expression was brief, gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it left you reeling. hoseok had not only accepted your advice but had done so with a humility that you hadn’t expected from someone of his stature.

he said nothing about the incident the previous day, and you knew better than to bring it up. the tension that had gripped you since last night eased slightly, but you still felt a lingering sense of unease. was it his way of testing you? or had he genuinely respected your input? the uncertainty gnawed at you, but you forced yourself to focus, reminding yourself that you were here to work, to prove yourself worthy of the opportunity he had extended.

his voice broke through your thoughts as he turned back to the onions, resuming his work with a quiet confidence. “i have an assignment for you,” he said, his tone suggesting that this was more than just a simple task. “since you seem to know so much.”

your heart skipped a beat at the words, a mix of anxiety and determination surging through you. you nodded, keeping your expression as neutral as possible, though inside you were mentally cursing yourself for speaking up earlier. you didn’t want him to think you were arrogant, or worse, insubordinate. but there was no turning back now. you had opened your mouth, and now you would have to see this through.

“i want a new product made to represent the restaurant,” he continued, his focus still on the onions but his words clearly meant for you. “something that embodies what we stand for here at l’espoir. you seem like you have some ideas, so i expect you’ll get right on it.”

the weight of the task settled over you like a heavy mantle, but you nodded again, your mind already racing with possibilities. it was no small request—creating a signature dish was a challenge that could define your place in the kitchen, perhaps even your future as a chef. you swallowed your nerves and replied with a quiet, “yes, chef,” your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. hoseok gave a small nod of acknowledgment, his attention once again on the stove as he continued to work. you stood there for a moment longer, watching as he moved with that same effortless grace, turning the now perfectly caramelized onions in the pan.

the kitchen became your safe spot as the hours slipped away, the clang of pots and the rhythmic sound of chopping filling the air. you were deep in the creative process, each movement purposeful, each decision calculated. the pressure of hoseok’s challenge weighed on you, but it was that very pressure that drove you, igniting the fire that had once fueled your passion for cooking. the thoughts of the previous day, the tension and confrontation, were pushed to the back of your mind as you focused on the task at hand.

you moved with an ease that came only from years of practice, your hands guiding the knife with precision as you sliced through vegetables and herbs. the familiar scent of garlic and onions filled the air as you sautéed them in a pan, the sizzling sound offering a comforting rhythm to your work. you experimented with various combinations, each one designed to evoke the flavors and essence that would truly represent the restaurant. the process was meticulous, each trial a step closer to finding the perfect dish that would encapsulate what l’espoir stood for.

but it wasn’t until your eyes landed on the jar of white kimchi that inspiration truly struck. the jar sat on the counter, seemingly forgotten amidst the array of ingredients scattered before you. the sight of it sparked a memory—an understanding of what this dish needed to be. kimchi was more than just a food; it was a symbol of resilience, diversity, and unity. the way it brought together a myriad of ingredients, each with its own distinct flavor, to create something harmonious and whole—it was the essence of what you wanted to capture.

qu'il y ait de l'espoir, let there be hope. the connection was undeniable, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. you worked quickly now, the energy flowing through you as you gathered ingredients. the white kimchi would be the star of the dish, its subtle flavors a delicate balance of sweetness and tang, with just the right amount of heat. it was different from the traditional red kimchi, yet it carried the same spirit. the idea of turning it into a ravioli—a fusion of korean and italian influences—felt like the perfect way to represent the blending of cultures, the melding of ideas that l’espoir sought to achieve.

unbeknownst to you, hoseok had entered the kitchen, his presence unnoticed as you became completely absorbed in your work. he lingered by the entrance, watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else—a hint of admiration, perhaps? he was drawn to the way you moved, the way your focus never wavered as you diced, sliced, and sautéed with unwavering determination. there was something about your dedication, the way you poured your heart into every step of the process, that intrigued him. a small smile played at the corner of his lips as he observed you in your element.

you began by preparing the filling for the ravioli, finely chopping the white kimchi and mixing it with sautéed garlic, onions, and a touch of ginger to enhance the flavors. the kimchi’s subtle acidity needed to be balanced, so you added a hint of honey to mellow the sharpness, allowing the natural sweetness of the fermented cabbage to shine through. the mixture was then combined with a smooth ricotta cheese, adding a creamy texture that would complement the crispness of the kimchi. you carefully tasted the filling, adjusting the seasoning with a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of black pepper, ensuring that each bite would carry the complexity of flavors you intended.

you moved on to making the pasta dough, your hands working methodically as you combined flour and eggs, kneading the mixture until it was smooth and elastic. the dough needed to rest, so you covered it with a damp cloth and set it aside, using the time to clean your station and prepare the rest of the components. hoseok watched as you moved around the kitchen, noting the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers deftly handled the ingredients. there was a quiet confidence in the way you worked, a confidence that had been absent when you first started. he saw it in the way you now approached the tasks before you, with a sense of purpose and an understanding of what you wanted to achieve.

once the dough was ready, you rolled it out into thin sheets, the smooth surface gliding beneath your fingers. you carefully spooned the kimchi filling onto the dough, leaving enough space between each dollop to fold the dough over and seal the edges. your movements were precise as you pressed the edges together, forming delicate ravioli that held the promise of something unique. you then moved to the stove, bringing a pot of salted water to a gentle boil. the ravioli was carefully lowered into the water, and you watched as they floated to the surface, the dough turning tender and translucent as they cooked. the anticipation built within you, your mind racing with thoughts of how this dish would come together.

in a separate pan, you melted butter, allowing it to brown slightly to bring out a nutty aroma. you added sage leaves, their earthy scent mingling with the butter, creating a sauce that would coat the ravioli in a layer of rich flavor. as the ravioli finished cooking, you transferred them into the pan, gently tossing them in the butter sauce, ensuring that each piece was evenly coated. hoseok’s eyes never left you as you worked, his curiosity deepening as he saw the dish take shape. there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the others he had worked with. it wasn’t just your skill—it was the passion, the thoughtfulness that you put into each step of the process. he found himself drawn to it, intrigued by the way you had approached the challenge he had set for you.

you plated the ravioli with care, arranging them in a way that was both visually appealing and respectful of the dish’s simplicity. you finished with a sprinkle of toasted pine nuts for texture and a light drizzle of the remaining butter sauce, the golden liquid pooling around the edges of the plate. the dish was a delicate balance of flavors and textures, each element working in harmony to create something that was more than just food—it was a reflection of your creativity, your understanding of what it meant to cook with heart.

the air in the kitchen had been filled with a sense of anticipation. after your creation had come to life, it was impossible to keep the secret contained. other chefs and cooks, sensing the undercurrent of something new, began to trickle into the kitchen, their curiosity piqued. the atmosphere shifted as more and more of your colleagues gathered around the counter where your dish sat, its delicate aroma mingling with the scents of the day’s preparations. hoseok approached you first, his expression unreadable yet calm, his eyes glinting with a hint of interest. “tell me about this dish,” he asked, his tone firm but not unkind. it was a command wrapped in curiosity, one that invited you to share the thought process behind the creation that now held the attention of the entire kitchen.

taking a deep breath, you began to explain, your voice steady as you described the inspiration behind the dish. “i wanted to create something that reflects both the tradition and the innovation that this restaurant represents. white kimchi is often overshadowed by its red counterpart, but it’s just as rich in flavor, just as versatile. i thought, why not use it in a way that brings together different culinary worlds? the idea of combining it with something as classic as ravioli felt like the perfect way to bridge that gap. the tang of the kimchi, balanced with the creaminess of the ricotta, and then brought together by the sage butter—it’s a fusion that represents the diversity of our kitchen.”

as you spoke, you could sense the room’s mood shift. some of the chefs exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in skepticism. the idea of blending such distinct culinary traditions was, to many, a daring move. you could hear a few murmurs of disbelief—mixing korean and otalian cuisine in such an intimate way was almost sacrilegious to the purists. a chef from the back muttered something about the integrity of traditional dishes, and a few others nodded in agreement. but you stood your ground, explaining how the fusion wasn’t meant to diminish either culture, but rather to highlight the beauty in their union.

hoseok remained silent as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. when you finished, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he didn’t care about—the unease among the other chefs. instead, his gaze dropped to the dish before him, and without a word, he picked up a fork, cutting through one of the ravioli with precision before bringing it to his mouth.

the room seemed to hold its breath as he chewed, his face a mask of concentration. you felt your heart pounding in your chest, the doubt from your peers weighing heavily on you, despite your best efforts to stay confident. the seconds stretched on, each one filled with an unbearable silence, until finally, hoseok’s expression shifted. a glint of something—was it surprise?—sparked in his eyes. slowly, he looked back at you, and to your utter astonishment, his lips curved into a smile. “this is amazing,” he said, his voice low but full of admiration. the tension in the room seemed to dissipate as his words sank in, and you could see the other chefs exchanging looks of surprise. “the balance of flavors, the creativity in combining these two culinary worlds—it’s exactly what i was hoping for. congratulations.”

a wave of relief washed over you, so powerful it almost brought tears to your eyes. the disbelief from your colleagues gave way to murmurs of approval as they began to gather closer, each one eager to taste the dish that had earned such high praise from chef jung. hoseok stepped back, allowing the others to try the ravioli, his smile lingering as he watched their reactions. he didn’t need to say more—his approval was enough to turn the tide of skepticism. as the chefs began to taste your creation, you could see their initial doubt melt away, replaced with genuine appreciation for the flavors you had brought together. it wasn’t long before the dish became the talk of the kitchen, its success spreading quickly through the restaurant’s staff. praise followed from all corners, each compliment fueling your sense of accomplishment. it was as though the entire kitchen had been given a new burst of energy, your dish acting as a catalyst for inspiration.

the next few days were a whirlwind of activity. news of the dish reached the restaurant’s management, and before you knew it, there was talk of adding it to the menu as the restaurant’s special. hoseok worked with you to fine-tune the presentation, ensuring that every detail was perfect. the dish quickly gained popularity among the patrons, its unique fusion of flavors creating a buzz that spread beyond the restaurant’s walls.

the recognition came swiftly. a local food critic wrote a glowing review, praising the dish for its innovative approach and its seamless blending of cultures. soon after, a food magazine reached out, requesting an interview with you and hoseok to discuss the inspiration behind the creation. but the pinnacle of the dish’s success came when the restaurant received a request to film a commercial, showcasing the process of creating the now-famous white kimchi ravioli.

the day of the shoot arrived, and the kitchen was abuzz with excitement. you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration as you prepared for the filming, knowing that this was a rare opportunity to showcase your skills on such a large platform. hoseok introduced you to one of the chefs who would be working with you for the shoot—kim seokjin. he was tall and handsome, with an easy smile that instantly put you at ease. there was something about his demeanor that was both professional and friendly, a balance that made working with him feel natural.

“nice to meet you,” seokjin said with a grin, his hand outstretched. “i’ve heard a lot about your dish.” you shook his hand, smiling back. “likewise. i’m looking forward to working with you.”

hoseok, standing off to the side with the director, watched the exchange with a calm expression, but you could sense the subtle shift in his demeanor. there was a tension in the way he stood, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the interaction between you and seokjin. it was as though something about the easy camaraderie between you and the other chef rubbed him the wrong way, but he said nothing, his face a mask of professionalism.

the filming began, and you and seokjin worked together seamlessly, preparing the ingredients for the dish. the cameras rolled as you sliced through vegetables, your hands moving with the precision that had been honed through years of practice. he was skilled, his movements confident as he worked alongside you, but there was a moment when he began to cut the kimchi in a way that you knew could be improved.

“seokjin, let me show you something,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. you took his hands in yours, guiding the knife through the kimchi with a more efficient motion. your fingers brushed against his as you adjusted his grip, your eyes meeting his as you explained the technique. “of you cut it this way, it’ll keep the pieces more uniform and release the flavors more evenly.”

his gaze locked with yours, his smile widening as he nodded. “thanks, that’s really helpful,” he replied, his tone warm and appreciative. the moment was brief, but the connection between you and him was undeniable. it was a simple act of collaboration, but to hoseok, who stood watching from the sidelines, it seemed to be something more. his jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to suppress the surge of irritation that welled up within him. it was irrational, he knew that, but the sight of you working so closely with seokjin, the way your hands had lingered on his, sparked a jealousy that he struggled to control.

as the scene wrapped up, you turned to hoseok, eager to know if he was pleased with how the shoot had gone. “chef, how was it?” you asked, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. his response was clipped, his tone betraying the frustration he was trying to hide. “it was fine,” he said shortly, his eyes avoiding yours. without waiting for your reply, he turned on his heel and retreated back into the kitchen, leaving you standing there with a sense of unease.

seokjin, noticing the tension, turned to you with a soft smile. “it was nice meeting you,” he said, his voice sincere. “you did great today.”

“thanks, seokjin,” you replied, forcing a smile. “you too.” as he made his way back to his station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. hoseok’s sudden coldness lingered in your mind, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself that you had done your best. still, the uncertainty gnawed at you as you followed him back into the kitchen, the familiar scents and sounds offering little comfort.

you hesitated at the entrance, unsure whether to approach him, but before you could decide, hoseok’s voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding. “kim yerim,” he called, the sound of the name causing your heart to skip a beat. “come to my office.”

the girl peered over, a smile gracing her face as she obliged, following hoseok out of the kitchen and toward his office. the sight made your stomach churn, as did the sound of silence. you didn't miss it, the look he gave you before slipping out of the station. it was a look that you couldn't quite define, but it was enough to make your blood run cold. no matter how supportive he was, old habits died hard. at the end of the day, he was still the same man who did as he pleased with the women willing to give him a piece of their dignity.

chaeyoung approached you not long after the tension-filled exchange in the kitchen. her eyes were bright with excitement, a wide grin spreading across her face. “you were amazing today!” she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine admiration. “the way you handled everything, from the dish to the filming, it was perfect.” you smiled at her praise, feeling a warmth spread through you. “thank you, chae,” you replied, your voice soft but appreciative. the validation from your peers meant as much as the recognition from hoseok.

she wasn’t done, though. she leaned in slightly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “and you and seokjin,” she began, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret, “seemed to have something going on there. the way he was looking at you—” you laughed, shaking your head at the implication. “no, no, there’s nothing going on,” you denied, though you couldn’t stop the slight blush that crept into your cheeks at the memory of seokjin’s warm smile.

she raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she continued, “the team is going out for celebratory drinks tonight. it’s all on your behalf, so you have to come.” you hesitated, the idea of joining everyone for drinks sounding appealing yet a little daunting. “i’ll think about it,” you said, not committing but leaving the door open.

before you could say more, another voice chimed in, the tone playful yet insistent. “you’ll be there.” you turned to see seokjin, a knowing smile on his lips as he looked at you expectantly. his presence was both reassuring and slightly unnerving, given how easily he seemed to be able to read your thoughts. you found yourself nodding, caught up in his easy charm. “okay, i’ll be there,” you agreed, pausing before adding with a bit of uncertainty, “are you coming too?”

he shrugged, his expression teasing. “only if you want me to,” he said, his tone light but laced with something more. chaeyoung couldn’t hold back her giggles, her support for the budding camaraderie between you two evident in the way she swooned slightly. “drinks at nine,” she reminded, her voice full of enthusiasm.

but before you could fully relax into the idea of a fun night out, another voice cut through the conversation, this one colder and more authoritative. “what drinks?”

the three of you turned to see hoseok standing a few feet away, his expression stoic, his eyes focused intently on the three of you. chaeyoung, caught off guard, fumbled over her words, her earlier confidence evaporating under Hoseok’s intense gaze. “uh, we were just, um, planning to go out for drinks to celebrate, and we were wondering if you’d like to come too?” she managed to get out, her voice faltering slightly with each word.

you inwardly winced at the thought of hoseok joining. the situation already felt complicated enough without adding his presence to the mix, especially after the way he’d been watching you and seokjin earlier. but to your dismay, his expression didn’t change as he responded, “of course, i’ll be coming.” there was a finality in his tone that left no room for argument. you avoided looking at him, unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. instead, you turned back to seokjin, who was still standing beside you. his warm smile hadn’t faltered, and the ease in his demeanor seemed unaffected by hoseok’s looming presence.

hoseok, however, seemed to notice the silent exchange between you and seokjin. his eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice took on an edge as he asked, “and seokjin, will you be coming too?” he met his gaze calmly, his smile never wavering. “yes, i’ll be there.”

a smirk played on hoseok’s lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “great,” he said, the word carrying a weight that seemed to linger in the air long after it was spoken.

the conversation ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. chaeyoung glanced between you, seokjin, and hoseok, clearly sensing the undercurrent of tension but unsure how to address it. after a moment, she cleared her throat, forcing a cheerful tone as she said, “well, i’ll see you guys tonight, then!”

she quickly excused herself, leaving you alone with seokjin and hoseok. the latter’s eyes remained on you for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and walked away, heading back toward his office. aeokjin turned to you, his voice gentle as he said, “don’t worry about it. tonight will be fun, i promise.” you nodded, though the knot in your stomach didn’t entirely loosen.

getting ready for the evening felt different than it had for other nights out. the tension that had brewed all day still lingered, and as you stood before the mirror in your room, smoothing the floral dress you’d chosen, a part of you wondered if going was even a good idea. but you’d made a commitment, and besides, after everything that had happened, a part of you wanted to celebrate. you had achieved something noteworthy, and despite the awkwardness with hoseok, there was a sense of pride that you couldn’t ignore.

your hair, which you had usually kept tied up or tucked away beneath a chef’s hat, cascaded freely over your shoulders. the soft waves framed your face, and you had taken extra care with your makeup, applying just enough to enhance your features without overdoing it. you hardly recognized yourself as you gave one last glance in the mirror, but the reflection was a pleasant surprise. tonight, you weren’t just the diligent chef striving to prove herself—you were someone who could allow herself to feel beautiful.

when you finally walked into the barbecue bar, the warm, smoky scent of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of your peers. you were greeted enthusiastically by your colleagues, their smiles wide and their voices carrying over the lively buzz of the place. chaeyoung, already a bit tipsy, threw her arms around you, her eyes sparkling with delight. “you made it!” she cheered, pulling you into a tight hug. “and look at you, so pretty tonight!”

you smiled, trying to soak in the compliments, but your gaze drifted instinctively toward hoseok, who was seated at the end of the table. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his expression—something stern, something unreadable. you looked away quickly, the knot in your stomach tightening, only to catch seokjin’s gaze instead.

to your surprise, his face lit up when he saw you, and before you could react, he was closing the distance between you and pulling you into a warm hug. “you look prettier than usual,” he said, his tone playful but sincere. his eyes scanned your floral dress, taking in the way it flowed around you, your hair loose and soft, the faint makeup you had applied. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you smiled, feeling a bit shy at his directness. “thank you,” you managed, the words coming out softer than you intended. “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and released you from the hug. from the corner of your eye, you noticed the way hoseok’s hand tightened around his shot glass, his knuckles going white. a moment later, he downed the entire shot in one go, the glass hitting the table with a bit too much force.

you took a seat, finding yourself in the center of the group, seokjin to your left, chaeyoung to your right, with hoseok directly across from you. the conversation flowed easily, the drinks making everyone more relaxed, more willing to laugh and share stories. chaeyoung, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, leaned in closer to you at one point, her voice a bit louder than usual. “you and seokjin are so adorable together,” she teased, her words slightly slurred. you felt your face heat up, and you laughed nervously, waving a hand dismissively. “we’re not together,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, though you could feel the curious stares of your colleagues.

seokjin leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “for now,” he added, his voice low enough that only those closest to you could hear. the whole table erupted in laughter, everyone except hoseok. he didn’t laugh. Instead, his face hardened, and he slammed his glass on the table with enough force to silence the room. without a word, he pushed back his chair and stood, heading toward the bathroom, leaving the table in an uncomfortable silence.

seokjin was the first to break the awkwardness, his voice a bit softer this time as he leaned in toward you. “don’t worry about him,” he said, his tone reassuring. “he’s just—” he paused, searching for the right words, but ultimately shook his head. “it’s not your fault.” you nodded, but the uneasy feeling in your chest didn’t dissipate. the rest of the group tried to continue the conversation, but it was clear that hoseok’s sudden departure had put a damper on the mood.

when he finally returned, it was obvious he had been drinking too much. his steps were slightly unsteady, and there was a glazed look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. you watched him carefully, noticing how his hand shook slightly as he poured himself another drink. concerned, you leaned in closer to him, your voice low. “are you going to be able to make it home?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

he looked at you, his expression hard to read, his eyes clouded by the alcohol. “what’s it to you?” he slurred, his words coming out a bit harsher than he probably intended. you bit back a sigh, your patience starting to wear thin. turning away from him, you addressed the others at the table. “i’m sorry, but i think i’m going to have to call it a night,” you said, pausing to glance at hoseok, who was swaying slightly in his seat. “i’ll need to drive hoseok home.”

the group erupted in protests, insisting that you didn’t need to take responsibility, but seokjin, who had been quietly observing, stood up and hugged you. “if you need anything, call me,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. you nodded, appreciating his support, and helped hoseok to his feet. he was surprisingly heavy, leaning against you more than you expected as you guided him out of the bar. the night air was cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth inside the bar. hoseok mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite make out, but you were too focused on getting him to his car to ask him to repeat it.

when you finally reached his car, he fumbled for his keys, dropping them once before managing to hand them to you. “you’re mean,” he muttered, his voice petulant, catching you off guard. the change in his demeanor was startling—gone was the stern, composed chef you were used to, replaced by someone far more vulnerable and childlike. taken aback, you looked at him, your brow furrowed. “put your seatbelt on if you’re sober enough to know how,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind.

he scoffed, his expression challenging as he tried and failed to buckle his seatbelt. the buckle slipped from his grasp twice before you finally sighed and leaned over him to secure it yourself. as you clicked the seatbelt into place, you glanced up and found his eyes fixed on you. his gaze was softer now, the earlier harshness replaced with something else, something that made your heart skip a beat.

flustered, you quickly looked away, securing him in before retreating to the driver’s seat. you started the car, the engine purring softly as you pulled out of the parking lot. “where do you live?” you asked, glancing over at him. but there was no response. when you looked over, you saw that he had already fallen asleep, his head resting against the window. you couldn’t help but scoff quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. “lightweight,” you muttered under your breath.

with no other choice, you decided to drive him to your place. the drive was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from hoseok as he shifted in his sleep. by the time you pulled up to your apartment, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. but as you looked over at hoseok, still fast asleep in the passenger seat, you knew that this night wasn’t over yet. there was still the matter of getting him inside, of figuring out what to do next. and as much as you wanted to just let him sleep it off in the car, you knew you couldn’t leave him out there.

the night air was crisp as you pulled into your driveway, the headlights of your car slicing through the darkness. your heart pounded with an anxious rhythm, still reeling from the night’s events. hoseok was fast asleep in the passenger seat, his head slumped against the window, oblivious to the world around him. you killed the engine, the sudden silence in the car amplifying the sound of your breath as you gathered the courage to wake him.

“hoseok,” you murmured softly, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. he stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed. you shook him a bit harder, and this time, his eyelids fluttered open, groggy and unfocused. “we’re here,” you added gently. he blinked up at you, disoriented. “where?” his voice was thick with sleep, the usual sharpness of his tone dulled by the alcohol.

you sighed, stepping out of the car and walking around to his side. opening the door, you leaned in, unbuckling his seatbelt. “you fell asleep before you could tell me where you live,” you explained, your voice laced with mild frustration as you hoisted him out of the car, his body heavy and uncooperative. as you helped him into the house, his steps were sluggish, his arm slung over your shoulders for support. he stumbled slightly as you led him to the couch, guiding him down as he collapsed onto the cushions with a weary sigh. the warmth of your home enveloped you both, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside.

“always been a lightweight?” you teased lightly, attempting to lighten the mood as you watched him sprawl out on the couch, his long limbs taking up most of the space. hoseok groaned, his hand coming up to rub his face. “i don’t drink,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his hand. he paused, glancing up at you with an expression that was oddly vulnerable. “it was my first time.”

your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “your first time? why on earth did you decide to drink tonight then?” the question slipped out before you could stop it, your curiosity piqued. he shifted on the couch, rolling onto his back so he could look at you directly. his gaze was intense, almost too much to bear. “because of you,” he said simply, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something that made your stomach twist with unease.

you blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. hoseok’s eyes darkened, a scowl tugging at his lips. “maybe you should ask seokjin,” he retorted, the mocking edge to his voice making you flinch.

the implication behind his words was clear, and it stung. you scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to dismiss it. “he’s just a friend,” you argued, but the pause before you added, “and even if he wasn’t, so what?” made the words feel hollow. you turned away, intending to retreat and give yourself some distance from the tension that had thickened the air. but before you could take a step, hoseok’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist in a firm grip. you gasped as he pulled you back, your body stumbling and falling against his, your back pressing into his chest as his arms encircled your waist.

“don’t,” he murmured into your shoulder, his voice low and almost pleading. you could feel his breath warm against your skin, the closeness of him making your heart race. “i don’t like you being so close to him.” his words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of shock and confusion rendering you silent. this was hoseok—strict, professional, always in control—yet here he was, holding onto you as if you might slip away.

he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “i only want you to be like this with me,” he confessed, the raw honesty in his voice making your breath hitch. you swallowed hard, your mind racing to catch up with what was happening. “you’re drunk,” you protested weakly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

but he shook his head, the movement causing his hair to brush against your skin. “i know exactly what I’m talking about,” he insisted, his voice steady despite the alcohol in his system. he hesitated for a moment before continuing, his next words sending a jolt through you. “you brought the hope back to l’espoir.”

you didn’t know how to respond, your mind a whirlwind of emotions as you tried to process the weight of his confession. but before you could form a coherent thought, hoseok’s grip on you loosened, his body going slack as sleep claimed him once more. you were left there, sitting in stunned silence, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of the situation settled over you. he had just bared his soul to you, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the warm, enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. it was a comforting scent, one that slowly coaxed you out of the remnants of sleep. you stretched lazily, the morning light filtering softly through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the peace, before the memories of last night came rushing back—hoseok’s confession, the unexpected closeness, the weight of his words still lingering in your mind.

you rose from the bed, the soft padding of your feet on the cool floor the only sound in the quiet house. the scent of coffee grew stronger as you made your way to the kitchen, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. as you rounded the corner, you found him standing at the counter, his back to you as he poured steaming coffee into two mugs. he was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, though slightly rumpled from sleep, his hair tousled in a way that made him look more approachable than usual.

he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes locking onto yours with an expression that was surprisingly gentle. “morning,” he greeted, his voice still carrying that low, warm timbre that had made your heart race the night before. “you want some coffee?”

you nodded, feeling a bit awkward in the face of his casual demeanor after everything that had happened. “yes, please,” you managed to reply, your voice coming out a bit softer than you intended. you moved to sit at the small kitchen table, the wooden chair creaking slightly as you settled into it. hoseok handed you a mug, and you took it with a quiet word of thanks. the rich, earthy scent of the coffee was even more intoxicating up close, and you noticed that it had been made using a french press—a sign of care and attention. you took a tentative sip, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. “thank you for this,” you said, gesturing to the coffee, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling back to the events of last night.

he leaned against the counter, cradling his own mug between his hands as he regarded you with a calm gaze. “it’s me who should be thanking you,” he replied, a hint of sincerity in his tone that you weren’t used to hearing from him. “for taking care of me when I was, well, not at my best.” you hesitated, swirling the coffee in your cup as you tried to find the right words. “are you feeling better? did you sober up?”

he nodded, taking a slow sip from his mug before setting it down on the counter. “yeah. i’m good now.” there was a moment of silence, the two of you just sipping your coffee, the unspoken tension between you almost palpable. your thoughts drifted back to the way he had pulled you close last night, the confession that had left you reeling. the memory of it made your cheeks flush, and you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the implications of his words.

as if sensing the direction of your thoughts, hoseok’s lips curved into a smirk. he tilted his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with something that made your pulse quicken. “you’re thinking about what i said last night, aren’t you?” you nearly choked on your coffee, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. “i, well,” you stammered, trying to compose yourself as you fumbled for a response. the memory of him holding you, his breath warm against your skin as he confessed his feelings, was too vivid to ignore.

his smirk softened into a more serious expression, his gaze unwavering as he continued. “i meant every word of it.” his tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt, and the intensity of his gaze made it clear that he was being completely honest. your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. you opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself at a loss, your thoughts a jumble of confusion and emotions. “i, um, i have to get to work,” you finally managed to say, your voice a bit shaky as you clung to the one thing you could focus on—the need to be on time.

hoseok studied you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to press the matter further, before raising his hand in a gesture of understanding. “i’ll drive you,” he offered, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, reassuring smile. you shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “you don’t have to, i can—”

but he cut you off with a gentle insistence. “i want to,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. realizing there was no point in protesting, you simply nodded, your thoughts still in a whirlwind as you finished your coffee in silence. the ride to work was quiet, but not uncomfortable. hoseok seemed to be in a much better mood, the tension from the previous night having dissipated, leaving behind a sense of calm. he hummed softly to the music playing on the radio, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel as he drove.

when you arrived at the restaurant, you turned to him, offering a small smile of gratitude. “thanks for the ride.” he smiled back, a genuine warmth in his eyes that made you feel a bit more at ease. “anytime.” you watched as he walked into the restaurant ahead of you, his posture relaxed, a stark contrast to the way he had been behaving recently. it didn’t take long for you to notice that his good mood seemed to linger throughout the day, a lightness in his steps that was unusual for him. he didn’t snap at anyone, didn’t call any of the girls into his office like he usually did. it was as if something had shifted within him, and the change left you stunned, unable to shake the feeling that something significant had occurred between the two of you.

the buzz of the kitchen hummed around you as you settled into your routine, the familiar clatter of pots and pans mingling with the sharp sizzle of ingredients hitting hot oil. there was an unspoken rhythm to the place, a steady flow of movement and sound that kept the energy high, but today, there was an undercurrent of tension. whispers had already started to circulate, the staff exchanging wary glances as they awaited the inevitable—hoseok’s arrival. it was almost a ritual by now, the way he’d sweep in with that cold, calculating gaze, ready to single out yet another unfortunate girl to pull into his office. the atmosphere would shift, voices would lower, and everyone would brace themselves for whatever mood he was in that day.

but when he finally stepped into the kitchen, something was different. the usual noise faded into an expectant silence, all eyes turning towards him as he made his way through the bustling space. you watched as he paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, and for a moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of the stern, unyielding expression that had become all too familiar. but then, to everyone’s shock, his lips curled into a smile—an actual, genuine smile—and he offered a simple, “thank you, everyone, for working hard today.”

the reaction was immediate and palpable. people exchanged stunned glances, the tension in the room dissolving into an almost disbelieving murmur. no one quite knew how to react, the abrupt change in his demeanor leaving everyone off-balance. it was as if they were waiting for the punchline to some elaborate joke, but instead, hoseok simply continued walking, his steps light, his mood shockingly bright.

your heart skipped a beat when he started moving in your direction, his gaze locked onto you with a strange mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. you quickly turned back to your station, trying to steady your breathing as you busied yourself with your tasks, hoping he’d pass by without another word. but then he stopped right beside you, his presence looming, and you felt a prickle of anticipation at the base of your spine. “drop your shift,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you froze, your hands stilling over the cutting board as his words registered. Slowly, you turned to face him, confusion knitting your brows together. “what do you mean?” you asked, your voice laced with uncertainty. hoseok met your gaze, his eyes glinting with that same determined look. “you have the rest of the day off,” he clarified, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a sudden breeze, your heart leaping at the unexpected reprieve. it was a rare gift, one that filled you with a rush of excitement. your mind immediately started racing with all the possibilities of what you could do with the extra time, a smile beginning to spread across your face as you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. but just as quickly as the excitement rose, it was tempered by his next words. “on one condition,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you blinked, the smile faltering slightly as you processed his words. “what condition?” you asked, your tone cautious, though the curiosity was already beginning to seep in. he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you spend the rest of the day with me,” he said, the request both unexpected and strangely intimate.

your heart skipped again, this time with a mix of surprise and something that felt suspiciously like anticipation. you hesitated, your mind running through the implications of his request, but there was something in the way he looked at you—something earnest and sincere—that made it hard to refuse. and truthfully, part of you didn’t want to. “all right,” you found yourself saying, the word slipping out before you could overthink it.

hoseok’s smile widened, his expression softening with something that looked a lot like relief. “good,” he replied, his tone light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that hinted at how much this meant to him. “i’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.” with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind buzzing with questions. the kitchen slowly returned to its usual rhythm, but the earlier tension was replaced by a new kind of energy—one that left you both excited and apprehensive about what the rest of the day might hold.

as you quickly wrapped up your station and informed your supervisor of your unexpected early departure, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of anticipation settle over you. there was no telling what hoseok had in mind, but as you stepped out of the kitchen and made your way to the front of the restaurant, you knew one thing for certain—today was going to be different.

the day stretched out before you like a blank canvas, one that you never imagined would be spent alongside hoseok. as you stepped out of the restaurant, the warmth of the sun embraced your skin, the bustling sounds of the city creating a lively backdrop to your unexpected adventure. hoseok guided you toward the bus stop, the two of you walking in comfortable silence, the earlier events in the kitchen still buzzing in your mind.

when the bus arrived, packed with the usual weekday crowd, you hesitated at the door. he stepped in first, his eyes scanning the interior for an empty seat. finding none, you both prepared to stand, but then, just as you were about to grab hold of the nearest rail, he gently nudged a young man sitting close by. there was something firm yet polite in his tone as he asked the man to stand and let you sit. the young man, caught off guard, quickly obliged, and you found yourself looking up at hoseok in surprise. “take the seat,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

you blinked, not used to such gestures from him—usually, his demeanor was all business, but today, he seemed different, more considerate, almost caring. you muttered a quiet “thank you” as you sat down, the unexpected kindness making your heart skip a beat. hoseok stood beside you, holding onto the overhead rail, his posture relaxed as he looked out of the window. the bus rumbled forward, carrying the two of you through the city streets, the vibrant blur of people and places passing by. you couldn’t help but glance up at him every now and then, curious about the change in his behavior, about what had prompted him to be so attentive. it wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of you.

“so, where are we going?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him. hoseok smiled, a playful glint in his eyes. “it’s a surprise,” he said, leaving no room for further questions. you sighed in mock frustration, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your growing excitement. there was something thrilling about not knowing where the day would take you, something about being in the moment, just the two of you, that made you feel more alive than you had in a long time.

eventually, the bus came to a stop, and hoseok gestured for you to follow him. you stepped off the bus together, the cool breeze ruffling your hair as he led you through a series of winding streets. the further you walked, the more the hustle and bustle of the main roads faded away, replaced by quieter, narrower lanes lined with small shops and cozy cafés. finally, he slowed down, and you looked up to see a small, unassuming restaurant tucked between two taller buildings. the sign above the door was simple, the name “seong’s bistro” written in elegant script. It wasn’t anything grand, but there was a charm to it, a warmth that made you feel like you were about to step into someone’s home rather than a restaurant.

“this is it,” he said, turning to you with a smile. “come on, let’s go in.” he held the door open for you, and as you walked inside, you were greeted by the welcoming scent of home-cooked meals. the interior was just as cozy as the exterior, with wooden tables, soft lighting, and walls adorned with framed photographs of what appeared to be family gatherings and happy customers. there was a sense of history there, of stories shared over meals, and it made you feel instantly at ease.

a man in his late thirties, with a friendly smile and an apron tied around his waist, approached you both. his features bore a striking resemblance to hoseok’s, though his face was softer, more rounded, and his demeanor exuded warmth. “my cousin,” the man exclaimed, pulling hoseok into a quick hug before turning to you. “and you must be the famous chef I’ve heard so much about.” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his words. “famous?” you repeated, a bit flustered.

the man nodded enthusiastically. “of course! i’ve heard all about your kimchi ravioli. it’s an honor to finally meet you in person.” you felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, not quite used to such praise. “thank you,” you said, smiling shyly. “but i’m not sure if i’m as famous as you think.”

“nonsense,” hoseok’s cousin replied, waving off your modesty. “your dish is incredible. in fact, i have a little surprise for both of you.” he exchanged a knowing glance with hoseok, who grinned and placed a hand on your back, gently guiding you toward a corner table. you sat down, your curiosity piqued, and watched as hoseok’s cousin disappeared into the kitchen. the restaurant was quiet, only a few other customers scattered about, their soft conversations blending with the faint music playing overhead.

after a few moments, the kitchen doors swung open, and two chefs emerged, each carrying a plate. as they approached, your breath caught in your throat. on each plate was a perfectly presented serving of your kimchi ravioli, the dish that had won over so many palates. the sight of it here, in this small, family-run restaurant, filled you with a sense of pride and disbelief.

“how did you—?” you began, turning to hoseok in astonishment. he simply smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “i made sure to spread the word about your dish,” he said, his voice filled with genuine pride. “you’re a national hit now.”

your heart swelled with emotion, a mix of gratitude and disbelief washing over you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to do this for you, to share your creation with others, touched you deeply. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice thick with sincerity. “i can’t believe you did this.” hoseok’s smile softened, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than usual. “you deserve it,” he said simply.

the meal that followed was nothing short of perfect. the ravioli was just as you had imagined it would be, the flavors dancing on your tongue with each bite. it was a strange but wonderful experience, tasting your own creation in a setting like this, surrounded by people who appreciated it just as much as you did. every now and then, you would glance over at hoseok, and each time, he was watching you with a contented smile, as if seeing you enjoy the meal was satisfaction enough for him.

when the plates were finally empty, he paid the bill despite your protests, and the two of you stepped out into the cool afternoon air. the sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the city, and as you walked, the conversation flowed easily between you. you found yourself laughing more, the usual walls between you and hoseok slowly crumbling as the day went on.

at one point, you passed by a quaint little chocolate shop with a beautifully arranged display in the window. you stopped in your tracks, drawn to the sight of the delicately crafted chocolates, each one a tiny masterpiece. he noticed your interest and leaned in to peer at the display with you. “which one catches your eye?” he asked, his tone light. you pointed to a small box of chocolates dusted with cocoa powder, their rich, velvety appearance almost too tempting to resist. “those,” you said, a note of longing in your voice. “they look so soft and chewy.”

without another word, he pushed open the door to the shop and stepped inside. you watched from the window as he spoke to the shopkeeper, gesturing toward the chocolates you had pointed out. a few moments later, he emerged with a small box in hand, his smile wide as he extended it to you. “for you,” he said simply.

you took the box from him, your fingers brushing against his in the process. the gesture, though small, warmed your heart. “thank you,” you said, smiling up at him. you opened the box and took out a small pick, ready to try one of the chocolates. but instead of popping it into your own mouth, you surprised hoseok by holding it up to his lips, silently offering him the first taste. he looked at you, momentarily taken aback, before his lips parted slightly, allowing you to place the chocolate on his tongue.

his eyes widened as he savored the taste, a look of pure delight crossing his face. “wow,” he murmured, swallowing. “that’s really good.” you grinned, pleased by his reaction, and finally took a piece for yourself. the chocolate melted in your mouth, rich and smooth, the cocoa powder adding a subtle bitterness that balanced perfectly with the sweetness. it was a moment of shared indulgence, a small but meaningful exchange that seemed to bring the two of you even closer.

as you continued your walk, the conversation shifted to more personal topics. you asked him about his restaurant, about how he had come up with the name “l’espoir.” for a moment, hoseok hesitated, his usual confidence wavering. but then he sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “i’ve always been the one to bring joy to the people close to me,” he began, his voice quieter now. “but when my father was dying, i had to get serious. i had to take on responsibilities I wasn’t ready for, and after he passed, it was like i lost a part of myself. i lost hope.”

you felt a pang of sympathy, the memory of your own loss surfacing in your mind. “i know how that feels,” you said softly. “when my mother passed, i felt like i lost a part of myself too. everything seemed to lose its color, its meaning. cooking was the only thing that kept me going, the only way i could hold on to the memories i had with her.” hoseok’s eyes softened even more at your words, the weight of shared grief settling between you like a silent understanding. he nodded, as if acknowledging the invisible thread that now connected the two of you—one woven from loss, but also from the strength you both found in your passion for cooking.

“i started the restaurant because i wanted to bring that hope back,” he continued, his voice tinged with a quiet resolve. “for myself, and for others. i wanted to create a place where people could feel joy, where they could find comfort in food the way i did. that’s why I named it ‘l’espoir’—hope.” you walked in silence for a moment, absorbing the depth of his words, the sincerity behind them. there was a new layer to hoseok that you hadn’t seen before, a vulnerability that he had hidden behind his confident, sometimes stern exterior. it made you see him in a different light, not just as your superior or the chef who could command a kitchen with ease, but as someone who had faced the same kind of pain you had, someone who had chosen to turn that pain into something beautiful.

“i’m glad you did,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm. “it’s a place where people can find more than just a meal. it’s a place where they can find a part of themselves, a piece of happiness, even if just for a moment.” he looked at you, his expression one of quiet gratitude. “thank you,” he said, his voice soft but full of emotion. “it means a lot to hear that from you.”

the rest of the walk to your house was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. the bond between you felt stronger now, deeper, as if you had crossed an invisible line from mere colleagues to something more—friends, perhaps, or something that had the potential to grow even further. when you finally reached your door, you turned to him with a smile. “thank you for today, hoseok. it was unexpected, but in the best way.”

he returned your smile, but there was something more in his eyes now, a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “i should be the one thanking you,” he said, taking a step closer. “you gave me hope today.” his words sent a flutter through your chest, but before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing gently against your forehead. the kiss was soft, barely more than a whisper of a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, leaving you momentarily stunned. your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as you looked up at him.

when he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, something tender and unspoken. “i’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice low, as if not to break the fragile moment between you. you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. your mind was still reeling from the feel of his lips on your skin, the unexpected intimacy of it. as you watched him walk away, your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling within you—confusion, excitement, but most of all, a sense of anticipation for what might come next.

once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your fingers lightly brushing the spot where he had kissed you. the warmth lingered, a reminder of the day’s unexpected turns, and as you stepped inside your home, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. the rest of the evening passed in a blur. You replayed the events of the day in your mind, each memory filled with vivid detail—the way hoseok had stood up for you on the bus, the pride in his voice when he introduced you to his cousin, the taste of the kimchi ravioli you had created, and finally, the soft, tender kiss he had left on your forehead. each moment felt significant, like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together, forming a picture you had yet to fully understand.

the next few days with hoseok were like a dream, a soft, hazy blur of moments that felt too good to be true. he was always there—smiling, friendly, attentive in ways that made your heart skip a beat. whether it was a simple greeting in the morning or the way he’d casually ask if you needed anything during the day, his presence was a constant source of warmth and comfort. he had a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel special. if you were chopping vegetables, he’d find a reason to stand beside you, sometimes offering a quick tip on technique, other times just making light conversation that left you smiling. his laughter was infectious, filling the kitchen with a bright, cheerful energy that everyone seemed to notice.

it didn’t take long for the other chefs to start talking. chaeyoung, in particular, couldn’t help but ask you about it one day, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “hey, have you noticed anything different about chef jung lately?” she asked, her voice low as she leaned in closer. you felt your cheeks warm, but you played it cool, feigning innocence with a smile. “no, why do you ask?”

chaeyoung’s eyes narrowed playfully. “oh, come on! don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he’s been around you lately. it’s like you’re his favorite or something.” your heart fluttered at the thought, but you shook your head, still maintaining the pretense. “i really haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “maybe he’s just in a good mood lately.”

she gave you a knowing look, but before she could press further, hoseok entered the kitchen. as usual, his presence had an immediate effect on everyone—conversations stopped, eyes turned to him. there was an unspoken respect for him that filled the air whenever he walked in, a mix of admiration and a bit of fear. you had grown used to this silence, no longer feeling the same tension as before. Instead, you found yourself feeling at ease, knowing that his attention was likely to land on you with a smile or a kind word. but today was different.

“choi yongsun,” he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. the name took a moment to register. you were in the middle of organizing the ingredients for the day, your mind still half-focused on the conversation with chaeyoung. but when you finally registered the name, your heart stuttered in your chest. a pause followed. the kind of pause that feels like an eternity, stretching the moment out until it’s almost unbearable. you looked up, confusion washing over you as you turned to see another girl—choi yongsun—standing frozen, her eyes wide as she stared at hoseok. “come to my office,” he finished

your entire world stopped spinning. it felt as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. the warmth and comfort you had felt all week vanished, replaced by a cold, gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, as the reality of what was happening slowly dawned on you. you were invisible again. hoseok’s attention, his kindness, the gentle smiles and lingering looks—they hadn’t meant what you thought they did. all of it had been a cruel illusion, a fleeting moment that had now passed, leaving you behind like a forgotten afterthought.

your heart shattered in your chest, the pieces scattering in a thousand directions. a dull, numbing pain spread through you, making it hard to focus, hard to keep your composure. you watched as yongsun hesitated, glancing around the room as if seeking reassurance. hoseok’s gaze softened as he met hers, and in that moment, it became clear—she was the one he was focused on now. not you.

blood rushed to your head, the heat of embarrassment and hurt rising until it felt like your skin was on fire. the kitchen, once a place of warmth and comfort, now felt like a cage, trapping you in a nightmare you hadn’t seen coming. you needed to get out. before anyone could notice the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you spun on your heel and bolted from the kitchen. your breath came in shallow gasps as you fled down the hallway, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. the walls blurred as you ran, the sting of tears clouding your vision.

you pushed open the door to the street outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap. you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. not until you found a cab, your hands shaking as you flagged one down. the ride home was a blur of motion and suppressed sobs. the reality of what had just happened hit you in waves, each one more painful than the last. how had you been so naive? how had you let yourself believe, even for a second, that he saw you as more than just another chef in his kitchen?

the thoughts spiraled, tearing at your already fragile heart. by the time you reached your door, the dam broke. tears flowed freely now, your body shaking with the force of your sobs as you fumbled with your keys, the metal slipping in your trembling hands. finally inside, you collapsed against the door, the sobs wracking your body as you sank to the floor. the realization of how deeply you had let yourself fall, of how thoroughly you had been misled, was crushing. it wasn’t just about hoseok’s attention—it was about the hope you had allowed to bloom, the fragile seed of something more that you had nurtured, only to have it ripped away in an instant.

you had been so foolish to think that he could see you, truly see you, as anything more than just another girl in his life. all the moments you had shared, the laughter, the smiles, the tender words—they were nothing more than fleeting distractions to him, easily replaced the moment someone else caught his eye. and then, as you sat alone on your cold floor, the weight of your own heartbreak settling over you, the tears wouldn’t stop. they flowed endlessly, a river of pain that seemed to have no end, each sob tearing through you with a force that left you breathless.

your thoughts were a tangled mess of hurt, anger, and a deep, aching sadness that hollowed you out from the inside. you had wanted to believe in something more, something real, but now all you were left with was the bitter taste of disappointment. it was over. whatever connection you thought you had with him was nothing more than a cruel joke, a figment of your imagination that had shattered into a million pieces.

the sobs wracked your body, each one tearing through you with a force that left you trembling on the floor. you clutched at your chest as if trying to hold the pieces of your shattered heart together, but it was no use. the pain was too much, the disappointment too deep. tears blurred your vision, and the world around you became a distorted mess of shadows and light.

you didn’t hear the door open. you were too lost in your own anguish, too consumed by the despair that had wrapped itself around your heart like a vise. it wasn’t until you sensed a presence beside you that you looked up, your breath catching in your throat. hoseok stood in the doorway, his expression stricken, eyes filled with a mix of grief and concern. his usually confident stance was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. he took a tentative step toward you, his voice gentle, almost pleading.

“why did you go home?” he asked, his tone filled with an aching sorrow that matched the hurt in your chest. you felt something snap inside you at his words, a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. anger, hurt, betrayal—all of it came pouring out in a torrent as you stared at him through tear-streaked eyes.

“why did i go home?” you repeated, your voice cracking as you tried to keep the sobs at bay. “i thought—i thought you had really changed, hoseok. i thought you were different, that you were finally done with the games. i opened my heart to you, and you just, you went back to the girls in your office like it meant nothing.” your voice broke, the words trembling with the force of your emotions. you didn’t care how vulnerable you sounded, didn’t care that your tears were still falling, staining your cheeks as you looked up at him. all you could think about was the pain of realizing you had been wrong, so very wrong, about him.

hoseok’s face twisted with grief, his eyes darkening with regret as he closed the distance between you. “you’ve got it all wrong,” he said softly, his voice pained as he reached out to you. but you shook your head, pulling away from him as fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “no, i don’t,” you cried, your voice thick with emotion. “you’re an asshole, hoseok. you made me believe in something that wasn’t real. you made me believe that you could be more, that we could be more, and then you just—threw it all away.”

your words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your heartache. hoseok stopped in his tracks, his expression filled with a kind of desperation you hadn’t seen in him before. his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was trying to hold himself together. then, slowly, he crouched down in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached out again, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was afraid you might shatter if he moved too quickly. his fingers gently wrapped around your hands, warm and comforting, even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your sobs.

“listen to me,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing. “i did call yongsun into my office. but it wasn’t what you think.” you tried to pull your hands away, the pain in your chest still raw, but he held on, his grip firm yet gentle. he leaned in closer, his gaze searching yours, his voice tender as he continued.

“she was quitting,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your skin. “that’s why i called her in. to talk about her leaving. that’s all.” you froze, your breath catching in your throat as his words registered. the hurt, the anger—everything you had been feeling—wavered, uncertainty creeping in. you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be lying, but all you saw was sincerity, a raw honesty that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“you—you really didn’t sleep with her?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if you were afraid to even ask. a small, sad smile tugged at the corners of hoseok’s lips. he shook his head, his thumb brushing gently across the back of your hand. “of course, i didn’t,” he murmured. “i could never do that to you.”

relief washed over you, a wave of emotion so strong it left you breathless. the tears that had been born of heartbreak now turned to something else—something softer, warmer. they slipped down your cheeks in quiet streams, and hoseok reached up, brushing them away with his fingertips. “it’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.” you didn’t resist as he gathered you into his arms, his warmth seeping into you, chasing away the cold that had settled in your heart. he held you like you were something precious, something fragile, and the care in his touch only made the tears fall faster.

you buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of him—familiar, comforting—wrapping around you like a balm for your wounded heart. his hands moved up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you in a moment that felt too real, too tender to be anything but the truth. for a long time, neither of you said anything. there were no words needed, no explanations to be given. all that mattered was the way he held you, the way he made you feel safe, cherished, loved.

and then, slowly, gently, hoseok pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft as they searched your face. his hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears as he leaned in. the kiss was soft, tentative, a whisper of a touch that sent a shiver down your spine. his lips were warm against yours, his breath mingling with yours in a way that felt like coming home. there was no rush, no urgency—just a quiet, tender moment that spoke of all the things neither of you could put into words.

you leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss grew deeper, more passionate. you could feel his heart racing against yours, the beat a frantic echo of the need that was building inside you. the taste of him was like a drug, something you hadn’t realized you’d been craving until now. your body responded, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your shirt, your pussy growing wet with desire.

his hands slipped down to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before sliding around to the small of your back. he pulled you closer, aligning your bodies so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach. you moaned into his mouth, the heat between you growing with every passing second. his touch grew bolder, more insistent, as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples through the fabric. the sensation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you arch into his touch.

you broke the kiss, panting, to look up at him. his eyes were dark with need, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “i’m sorry for hurting you. for making you doubt me. i’ll do anything to make it up to you, to show you how much you mean to me.” his words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the last of the raw edges of your heartache. you reached up, placing your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “make love to me, hoseok,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “show me that we’re okay.”

his eyes searched yours for a moment, looking for confirmation, for permission. and when you nodded, a soft smile curved his lips. he stood, pulling you to your feet, and then he was leading you to the bedroom, his hand warm and firm in yours. the room was bathed in soft, golden light from the setting sun, casting shadows across the bed that was already calling to you. you could feel your heart racing, your body thrumming with anticipation as he began to undress you, his eyes never leaving yours.

once you were naked, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze roving over your body with a kind of reverence that made you feel beautiful, desired. his hands followed, tracing the lines of your collarbone, your ribs, the swell of your hips. he leaned down, his mouth following the path his hands had taken, placing kisses along the way. you shivered, your skin coming alive under his touch. when he finally reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you moan.

his hand moved between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, stroking it lightly, teasing it until you were begging for more. but hoseok was in no hurry. he took his time, exploring every inch of you, building the tension until you were on the edge, your body quivering with need. and when he finally slid into you, it was with a slow, deliberate movement that made you gasp. his cock was huge, stretching you in a way that was both painful and beautiful. you felt so full, so complete, as he filled you completely.

his strokes were gentle at first, almost tender, as if he was afraid of hurting you. but as you grew more and more desperate, he picked up the pace, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you clinging to the edge of climax. he whispered dirty, filthy words in your ear, praising your body, your tightness, your beauty, and each one sent a fresh wave of heat through you. his attentiveness was intoxicating, his sensitivity to your needs surprising and arousing.

his thumb found your clit again, pressing down firmly as he fucked you harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. you could feel your orgasm building, a storm rising inside you, threatening to break. and when it did, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before—a white-hot explosion of pleasure that had you crying out his name, your body convulsing around his cock.

hoseok’s eyes never left yours, watching you intently as you rode out the waves of your climax. his own release followed closely, his hips jerking as he came deep inside you, his warmth filling you up. he collapsed against you, his chest heaving with the exertion. for a moment, you just lay there, tangled in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, hearts beating in sync.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. he kissed you again, deep and slow, his tongue stroking yours in a gentle dance that spoke of a connection that went beyond the physical. it was a promise, a declaration of love and devotion, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

once you’d both caught your breath, hoseok pulled out of you, his cock still hard and glistening. without a word, he reached for the box of condoms on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving yours. you watched as he rolled one on, his movements sure and practiced, and then he was back, pushing into you again. the feeling of him bare inside you was different this time, a thrill that sent shivers down your spine. you knew it was risky, but with hoseok, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

his strokes grew slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a kind of tenderness that was almost overwhelming. every thrust was a silent promise, every kiss a vow to never hurt you again. and as you came apart in his arms, your bodies melding together in a symphony of passion, you knew that that was where you were meant to be—right there, with hoseok, forever.

✧.*

a/n: this one was lowk ass

a little older (더 나이든) — min yoongi (민 윤기)

✧.* 18+

building a life of your own was supposed to be the most important thing, a sacred endeavor carved out of dreams and determination. it was meant to be a testament to resilience, a collection of moments carefully stacked like cards, each one representing a triumph, a choice, a whispered hope. every decision, every relationship, every step forward was like placing a new card on the fragile structure—delicate, yet full of potential. there was an elegance in the construction, a beauty in the precariousness, as each layer rose higher, promising a future that was uniquely yours.

the foundation was always more fragile than it seemed. life, with all its unpredictable twists, was like a breath of wind, capable of unsettling even the sturdiest of foundations. the careful balance, once so meticulously maintained, could be disrupted by a single misstep, a fleeting moment of imbalance. and when it happened—when that one card faltered—it was as if time slowed, the world held its breath, and the house of cards began to tremble. in an instant, everything you had built with such care, such hope, began to collapse. the cards fell, one by one, in a cascading rush of loss. it wasn’t just the physical manifestations of your efforts that crumbled; it was the dreams, the aspirations, the very essence of what you had imagined your life could be. the crash was both silent and deafening, a paradox of destruction that left you standing in the aftermath, surrounded by the scattered remnants of what once was.

in those moments, it became clear that the life you had built, so painstakingly and with such love, was never as invincible as you had believed. it was delicate, ephemeral, a structure of possibilities rather than certainties. and now, with the cards lying in disarray around you, the realization settled in—building a life of your own was not just about the construction, but about the constant balance, the vigilance, the understanding that everything could be lost in a heartbeat. the house of cards was beautiful while it stood, but it was a fragile beauty, one that required more than just ambition to sustain—it demanded a deep awareness of its own impermanence.

the gentle hum of rome surrounded you like a comforting embrace, the city's timeless charm intertwining with the luxurious life you had carefully crafted for yourself. the cobblestone streets underfoot, the scent of freshly brewed espresso wafting through the air, and the vibrant murmur of voices from nearby tables—all were part of the life you had come to know and love. it was a life of indulgence, of quiet moments in quaint coffee shops between photoshoots, where you could savor the richness of your success, the delicate balance of beauty and fame that you had so skillfully maintained.

your phone vibrated softly on the marble tabletop, interrupting your thoughts. the screen flashed with the name of your manager, a reminder of the world that existed just beyond this fleeting moment of peace. you took a slow sip of your coffee before answering, already knowing the conversation that was about to unfold. “why won't you be able to make the shoot in milan?” her voice, usually calm and composed, carried a note of urgency, of disappointment that you could almost feel through the line.

you sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of the decision you had already made. “i gotta go back to daegu,” you began, choosing your words carefully as you gazed out at the bustling street, the vibrant life that you had temporarily claimed as your own. “i was enjoying some time off between shoots, but i have to go back. my mother called. she wants to get the family together.”

there was a brief pause on the other end of the line, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. then, your manager exhaled, the disappointment in her voice palpable as she responded. “i'm disappointed. you know how important this shoot is, how much it could mean for your career. but i understand—family comes first.” you ended the call with a simple, “i'll be in touch,” the finality of the words echoing in your mind long after the call had disconnected. the weight of her disappointment hung over you like a shadow, mingling with your own. you were disappointed, too—disappointed that your carefully constructed life, the life you had fought so hard to create, was once again being pulled away by forces you couldn’t control.

the last thing you wanted was to spend a month in daegu, surrounded by your family and whoever else your mother decided to invite into your life. you had built something here, something that was yours alone. the glitz and glamour of the modeling world were more than just a career—they were your escape, your sanctuary from the past you had left behind. the riches, the fame, the adoration of the media—they were all a part of the life you had chosen, a life that felt worlds apart from the one that awaited you back home.

your father had always been supportive, his pride in your achievements a quiet but constant presence in your life. but your mother, your mother was another story. she had never truly understood the life you had built, never missed an opportunity to remind you of the family you had left behind, the obligations she believed you were neglecting. she was too emotional, too needy, always quick to turn to you with her problems, her fears, using you as her therapist when all you wanted was to be her daughter. it was a role you had never wanted, a burden you had never asked for, and one that had driven a deep wedge between the two of you.

as you sat in the coffee shop, the realization settled in with a dull ache—you didn’t want to go back. not now, not ever. the life you had built was there, in those moments of quiet luxury, in the thrill of the spotlight, in the knowledge that you were beautiful and that the world loved you for it. the idea of returning to daegu, to the suffocating expectations of family, was almost unbearable.

and yet, there you were, about to board a plane back to the place you had spent so many years trying to escape. you knew that once you were there, the walls you had so carefully constructed around yourself would start to crumble, brick by brick, as your mother’s words chipped away at the confidence you had so painstakingly built. but for now, you let yourself savor the last of your trip. you let the warmth of the roman sun wash over you, let the taste of rich coffee linger on your tongue, let the sound of the city’s heartbeat fill your ears. you allowed yourself this final moment of peace, a small luxury before the storm that awaited you back home.

the airport was a sea of hurried footsteps and murmured conversations, a place of constant motion and transient connections. the lights overhead were bright, almost glaring, casting a harsh glow on the polished floors and sleek, modern architecture. you walked through the bustling terminal with your head down, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. the hat was slightly too big, the edges brushing against your sunglasses, but it was a necessary discomfort. you knew the hat and shades might draw attention, might make people look twice, but it was a risk you were willing to take. you couldn’t afford to be recognized tonight—not when the weight of the decision to return to daegu was already pressing down on you.

the noise of the terminal was a constant hum in your ears, a backdrop of lives intersecting and parting ways. you moved with purpose, but each step felt heavy, as if the gravity of what awaited you back home was pulling you down. the bustling crowd gave you a sense of anonymity, a comfort in the chaos, but there was always the underlying fear—what if someone recognized you? what if a single glance, a moment of misplaced attention, shattered the fragile anonymity you clung to?

you reached the gate, the final checkpoint before you could slip into the relative safety of the plane. the lady at the gate, dressed in a crisp uniform, greeted you with a professional smile, her eyes scanning you briefly before she spoke. “ticket, please.” you handed it over, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper, and you watched as she glanced at it, her expression unchanged until her eyes fell on your name. the realization dawned in her eyes, a flicker of recognition that quickly blossomed into a wide smile.

her voice dropped to a near whisper, a mix of awe and excitement as she spoke again, her tone more personal now. “are you in first class?” you nodded, a small, polite gesture, before affirming softly, “yes, i am.” her fingers trembled slightly as she checked the ticket, the formalities of her job momentarily forgotten as she glanced back up at you. the admiration in her eyes was unmistakable, a look you had seen a thousand times before, but one that still made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“i’m such a big fan,” she said, her voice almost reverent. “would you mind—?” she trailed off, pulling out a poster she had tucked away—a poster of you, one from a recent campaign, your face smiling back at you with a confidence you didn’t quite feel in this moment. you forced a smile, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you replied, “of course.” you took the pen she offered, your hand moving almost automatically as you signed your name, the signature that had become so familiar to you, yet felt so alien in moments like this. the pen scratched lightly against the glossy paper, the sound almost lost in the noise of the terminal, but to you, it felt deafening. when you finished, you handed the poster back to her, your smile still in place despite the churning in your stomach.

“thank you so much,” she gushed, her voice barely above a whisper now, as if she were afraid to break the spell. “i hope you have a safe flight.” you nodded again, murmuring your thanks as you took your ticket back, slipping it into your bag with hands that felt too heavy, too cumbersome. the brief encounter had left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that only the public eye could make you feel. as you walked away, towards the plane that would take you back to a life you weren’t ready to face, you kept your head low, your hat pulled down just a little further, your sunglasses pressed tightly to your face.

the publicity was suffocating, a constant reminder of the life you had chosen, a life that came with its own set of rules and expectations. there were moments, fleeting but persistent, when all you wanted was a normal life—one where you could walk through an airport without being recognized, where you could board a plane without the weight of fame pressing down on your shoulders. but that life wasn’t yours to live, not anymore. so you kept your shades on, the brim of your hat shielding you from the world as you made your way to the gate, your steps quickening as you neared the entrance to the plane. you handed your ticket to the flight attendant, her smile professional and warm, and without a word, you slipped past her and into the sanctuary of first class. you found your seat and settled in, sinking into the plush leather with a sigh that was more of resignation than relief.

daegu’s air felt different the moment you stepped off the plane. the warm breeze carried with it the scent of familiarity—of home, of memories both cherished and forgotten. you moved through the terminal with a practiced ease, gathering your luggage as if in a trance. the sleek, designer suitcases were a stark contrast to the airport’s simple decor, a reminder of the life you had built away from here.

once you had everything in hand, you made your way out of the airport, your hat still pulled low over your face, your sunglasses firmly in place. the crowds here were less intense, less likely to recognize you, but you weren’t taking any chances. it was better to remain hidden until you were safely out of public view. you stepped out into the open air, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement, and you quickly hailed a cab.

the driver—a man in his mid-fifties with a kind, weathered face—didn’t say much as you slid into the back seat. you gave him the address, and he nodded, pulling away from the curb without a word. the silence was a gift, and you found yourself grateful for it. the drive through daegu’s familiar streets was oddly comforting, the buildings and landscapes bringing back a flood of memories, some pleasant, others less so.

as the car approached your childhood home, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. you tipped the driver a bit extra as a silent thank you for the uninterrupted journey, and he accepted it with a small, appreciative nod. only when you were certain you were out of sight did you finally remove your sunglasses and hat, letting the cool air of the evening touch your face. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before stepping out of the cab.

the sight that greeted you was unexpected—your parents stood in front of the house, their faces alight with joy, and a small group of people you didn’t recognize clustered around them. there was a makeshift cookout in the yard, the smell of grilled meat and the sound of laughter filling the air. it was a welcome-home celebration, one that should have made you feel warm inside, but instead, it only heightened your unease.

your father was the first to approach, his arms open wide. he was a strong, silent man, not one for overt displays of affection, but in this moment, he wrapped you in a hug that spoke volumes. you allowed yourself to sink into the embrace, feeling a flicker of genuine warmth. when he released you, you noticed your mother standing off to the side, her expression slightly pinched, as if disappointed that she hadn’t been the first to greet you. still, you turned to her with a smile, pulling her into a hug. her embrace was firmer, more scrutinizing, as if she were searching for something. “you’ve gotten thinner,” she remarked, pulling back to look at you, her tone half-critical, half-concerned.

you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, brushing off her comment. “that’s part of my job, mom.”  your father’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, his voice gentle as he added, “and you’ve gotten prettier, too.” he smiled as he stroked your hair, a gesture that felt both tender and grounding.

“i’ve missed you both,” you said, the words slipping out before you could fully process them. they felt genuine, though, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the comfort of this reunion. but the moment was fleeting, your eyes drifting to the unfamiliar faces in the yard. “who are all these people?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity—and slight irritation—from your voice.

your father gestured towards the group, his tone casual as he began introducing you to each of them. “these are some family friends. they’re only here for the day, but one of them will be staying for the month.” you smiled and nodded politely as each person was introduced, some of them expressing admiration for your work. you’d gotten used to it—meeting people who knew you before you knew them—but it didn’t make the encounters any less awkward.

“who’s the one staying?” you asked your father, trying to mask the apprehension in your voice. he chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “you know him very well.”

you frowned, confusion knitting your brow. “what do you mean by that?” your father didn’t answer directly. instead, he simply gestured to a man walking toward you from the other side of the yard. you turned to look, your breath catching slightly as you took in his appearance. he was handsome, undeniably so, with a soft smile on his lips and a calm, confident way of moving. there was something familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place it.

as he approached, his smile widened. “no, this can’t be (y/n),” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. for a moment, all you could think was how striking he was, and how frustrating it was that you couldn’t remember who he was. your father beamed with pride, his gaze flickering between you and the man. “she’s pretty, isn’t she?” he asked, his voice full of paternal affection.

the man nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. “gorgeous,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. there was a pause before he added, “do you remember me?” you searched his face, trying to dig through the layers of your memory, but nothing came to mind. with a reluctant shake of your head, you admitted, “i’m sorry, but no.”

your father laughed, a deep, hearty sound that rumbled through the air. “this is yoongi. he used to come over all the time to take care of you when you were younger and home alone.” your eyes widened in recognition, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly falling into place. “yoongi?” you echoed, incredulity coloring your voice.

he nodded, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i’ve changed a bit, haven’t i?” you laughed nervously, still processing the transformation before you. “only in the best way,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless.

yoongi shrugged, the smile on his face turning a bit wry. “that’s what divorce does.” you blinked in surprise, the revelation catching you off guard. “you, you divorced miss jeon?”

he nodded, his expression calm, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “yeah. it was for the best, though.” you shook your head slightly, still reeling from the news. miss jeon had been such a constant presence in your life, always there to help out, to cook meals when your parents were busy. the idea of her and yoongi no longer being together felt strange, almost surreal. sensing your shock, yoongi gave you a reassuring look. “don’t worry about it,” he said gently. “it was the best outcome for both of us.”

you nodded slowly, still absorbing the information. “it’s just hard to believe.” he smiled again, this time a bit more softly. “i know. but it’s good to see you again.” he paused, stepping forward to envelop you in a warm hug, his arms strong and comforting. as he pulled back, he added with a teasing glint in his eye, “and don’t worry—you’ll be seeing a lot more of me for the next month.” you managed a smile in return, though your mind was still spinning with the unexpected turn of events.

yoongi had changed significantly, to your shock. it seemed to make your father chuckle, his amusement evident at your reaction, but it wasn't temporary shock. you found yourself staring at him for a second too long, trying to process how much he had changed. he was handsome, he seemed less stoic than you remembered. he had been taking care of himself, it was evident in the way his skin shined under the sunlight and how his muscles flexed in his shirt that was just, maybe, a little too tight. you had remembered him as skinny, borderline bland, but he took good care of you while he had to. he looked amazing for his age, even though he wasn't too older than you.

his mine had chosen to run wild, too. he was aware that you were no longer the little girl he watched over with his ex-wife. you had changed, blossomed into a woman. he knew it beforehand, when you had started working. as much as you were a global hit, you were a national star just as much, if not more. he had seen the photos, the interviews, the shoots. the first time he saw them, your father had showed them to him with a proud smile on his face that seemed to clash with yoongi's shock. it wasn't negative in the slightest, he simply couldn't believe how bold and beautiful you had gotten. seeing you in person made all the difference, you were even prettier in person.

the hot water cascaded over your skin, the steady stream washing away the lingering tension of the day. you stood under the showerhead, eyes closed, letting the warmth seep into your muscles, relaxing the knots that had formed from the journey and the unexpected reunion. the steam filled the small bathroom, wrapping you in a comforting cocoon of heat and humidity. the scent of the lavender-scented body wash mingled with the steam, creating an almost meditative atmosphere. there, in the quiet, steamy space, the world outside felt distant, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to be fully present, savoring the solitude.

but as you turned off the water and reached for a towel, your hand met only empty space. panic sparked in your chest as you realized you had forgotten to bring one with you. the heat from the shower quickly dissipated, leaving your skin to prickle with the chill of the air. you glanced around the bathroom, hoping to find a spare towel or anything to cover yourself with, but there was nothing.

resigned, you wrapped your arms around yourself as best as you could, trying to cover your body as you opened the bathroom door just a crack. the house was quiet, the murmur of conversation from the yard barely audible through the walls. it was late, and most of the guests had left. you took a deep breath, assuring yourself that everyone else was either outside or already settled in for the night. the coast was clear. you stepped out into the hallway, your bare feet making no sound on the cool wooden floor. with your hands still clutched to your chest, you hurried towards your room, your steps quick and silent. the soft hum of the house was the only sound accompanying you, and you felt a small sense of relief as you neared the safety of your door.

but as you rounded the corner, your breath caught in your throat. standing in the hallway, just a few feet away, was yoongi. He froze, his eyes wide with surprise as they locked onto yours. for a split second, neither of you moved, the shock of the situation rooting you both in place. yoongi’s gaze traveled down, his eyes widening further as he took in the sight of you—damp, vulnerable, and very much exposed. you saw the moment he realized what he was doing, his eyes snapping back up to your face, filled with a mix of apology and something you couldn’t quite place. his mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. he seemed to be struggling with himself, as if trying to force his eyes away, but they lingered just a second too long before he finally managed to turn his head, averting his gaze.

your heart pounded in your chest, embarrassment flooding your system as you clutched the clothes in your hands to your body, trying to cover as much of yourself as possible. “i—i’m sorry,” you stammered, the words coming out in a breathless rush. “i forgot to bring a towel.” he shook his head quickly, his back still turned to you, his voice strained as he replied, “no, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have looked. i didn’t mean to—i wasn’t trying to—” his words trailed off awkwardly, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he gestured vaguely for you to return to the bathroom. “just go back. i won’t look.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. with your heart still racing, you turned on your heel and hurried back into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. leaning against the cool tile, you let out a shaky breath, your skin tingling from both the chill and the residual heat of the shower. the image of his face, the way he had looked at you, flashed through your mind, and you felt your cheeks heat up in a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

meanwhile, yoongi stood in the hallway, cursing himself silently. he had seen you grow up, watched you transform from the little girl he used to babysit into the stunning woman you were now. but that didn’t give him the right to look at you like that, to let his gaze linger when he knew he should have looked away. you were his friend’s daughter, and he was supposed to be here to support you, not ogle you like some kind of creep. he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to dispel the image of you that was now seared into his mind—the way your wet hair clung to your neck, the water droplets that had trailed down your skin, the way you had looked at him with those wide, startled eyes. he had to have some restraint. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not there, not now.

on the other side of the door, you were having similar thoughts. you couldn’t believe you had been so careless, so oblivious to the possibility that someone might see you. the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable, or worse, to leave him with a bad impression of you. you had always respected him, admired him even, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had ruined everything with one careless mistake. as you slowly dressed, your hands still trembling slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder how this would affect the next few weeks. you would be seeing a lot more of him, and the thought of facing him after what had just happened filled you with a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

dinner that evening was quiet, the usual hum of the house interrupted only by the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain and the soft murmurs of conversation. the long wooden table, covered with a simple white cloth, held the comforting spread of homemade dishes—steamed vegetables, grilled meats, and a bowl of steaming rice, all of which your mother had prepared with care. you had slipped into the kitchen earlier, wordlessly assisting her in setting the table and serving the food. she had smiled at you, her face softening with an expression you hadn’t seen in years. “thank you for helping,” she had said, her voice tinged with a quiet appreciation that made you pause. you had simply nodded in return, trying to ignore the strange twist in your chest.

as you walked into the dining room, you couldn’t help but notice yoongi seated at the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes watchful, as if he were silently observing everything around him. you caught his gaze for the briefest moment, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were dark, reflecting the soft light of the room, and when he looked at you, it felt as though he could see right through you. flustered, you quickly looked away, busying yourself with placing the last of the dishes on the table. your mother noticed the faint pink on your cheeks but said nothing, though a small, knowing smile played on her lips.

“you look beautiful in that dress,” yoongi said suddenly, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the comfortable silence. You froze for a moment, the compliment catching you off guard. the white dress was simple, something you had thrown on without much thought, but the way he said it made it feel like a grand gesture.

“yes, it really suits you,” your mother added, her tone bright. she was beaming at you, clearly pleased that someone had noticed. you forced a smile, your hands twisting the fabric of your dress nervously. you could feel yoongi’s eyes on you, and when you finally looked up, he was smiling at you—not just a polite smile, but something warmer, softer, and it sent a shiver down your spine. you tried to smile back, but your lips wobbled with the effort.

you took your seat, feeling his presence beside you like a tangible force, even though he was seated across the table. your father, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, began to ask you about your recent time in italy. “how was it?” he inquired, his voice full of genuine curiosity.

you paused, gathering your thoughts, and then answered, “i indulged in three things in italy—writing, wine, and men.” the words slipped out with a playful lilt, intended to tease, and the room erupted in laughter. your father chuckled, your mother giggled, and even some of the guests offered polite laughs. but yoongi’s reaction was different. his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and there was something stiff about the way he forced it onto his face. you caught the change in his expression and quickly looked away, but the image of his tight-lipped smile lingered in your mind. the thought of you—his little princess, as he had once affectionately called you—indulging in men made his stomach churn. he couldn’t reconcile the image of the young girl he had known with the woman sitting before him now.

“did you find a boyfriend?” your mother asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes. the question was laced with expectation, but you shook your head, dismissing the idea. “no, i don’t have time for that,” you replied, waving off the notion with a flick of your hand. the truth was, the thought of settling down, of committing to someone, felt suffocating, especially when your life was a whirlwind of photoshoots and travel. you enjoyed the company, the fleeting connections, but nothing more.

your father nodded thoughtfully and asked about your writing, his voice full of encouragement. “and your writing? how’s that going?” you hesitated for a moment, thinking about the journals and notes you had scribbled away during your time abroad. “i’ve done some dabbling here and there,” you admitted, keeping your tone light. you knew your father was proud of your creativity, always encouraging you to express yourself. but the truth was that the words you had written were a reflection of your darkest thoughts, the sides of yourself you kept hidden from the world. they were pieces of you that you had no intention of sharing.

“you should show us sometime,” he suggested, smiling warmly at you. you nodded, knowing full well that you never would. those words were yours alone, a private sanctuary in a life that was otherwise so public. as dinner wound down, the conversation grew quieter, the energy of the evening mellowing out. the food was nearly finished, and you pushed your plate aside, offering to help your mother clear the table. “i’ll do it,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather the empty plates.

“i’ll help,” yoongi offered, standing up almost immediately, his hands reaching for the dishes as well. you glanced at him, surprised by his sudden eagerness, but you didn’t refuse. together, the two of you worked in silence, clearing the table and bringing the dishes into the kitchen. the room was warm, filled with the lingering smells of the meal, and the only sound was the soft clinking of dishes being stacked.

as you reached for the same plate, your fingers brushed against his. the touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through your system, your breath catching in your throat. you looked up, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. his expression softened, something unreadable in his gaze, and you felt a blush creep up your neck, spreading across your cheeks. you both pulled your hands away quickly, embarrassed by the unintended contact. “sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you focused on the dishes. “no, it’s fine,” yoongi replied, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there. he paused, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he simply turned away, continuing to clear the table.

the house had quieted down after dinner, the lingering smells of the meal now replaced with the comforting scent of night. you had helped your mother finish up in the kitchen, and after a few more polite exchanges with the guests, you excused yourself, claiming exhaustion from the long journey. your mother had given you a gentle, knowing smile, and your father had patted your shoulder, telling you to rest well. but even as you ascended the stairs, the house settling into a comfortable stillness, your thoughts were far from calm.

in your room, you began your nightly routine, each action methodical and deliberate, as if going through the motions might settle the unease in your chest. you pulled on a shirt—a soft, oversized one that hung loosely on your frame, the hem brushing against the tops of your thighs. it was one of those shirts that felt like a second skin, comforting in its familiarity. you paired it with a simple set of panties, the cool fabric brushing against your skin. the choice was practical, a blend of comfort and modesty, yet there was something almost intimate about it, a reminder of the solitude of the night.

you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the reflection showing a woman who should have been ready for sleep. but instead, your thoughts were restless, wandering to places you couldn’t quite control. you climbed into bed, the cool sheets welcoming against your warm skin, but the moment your head hit the pillow, you knew sleep would not come easily. there was something tugging at you, an inexplicable pull that you couldn’t ignore. it started as a whisper at the back of your mind, an insistent urge that grew louder with each passing moment. you told yourself it was foolish, that you should simply close your eyes and rest, but the more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became.

before you knew it, you were slipping out of bed, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor as you made your way out of your room. the house was dark, save for the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long, pale shadows along the hallway. you moved quietly, the soft rustling of your shirt the only sound as you padded down the corridor, your heart beating steadily in your chest. you paused outside yoongi’s room, the door slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling out into the hall. you could hear him inside, the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet sound of his movements. you knew you shouldn’t be here, that you should turn around and go back to bed, but something kept you rooted to the spot.

you peered through the gap in the door, your breath catching in your throat at the sight that greeted you. yoongi was standing by the bed, his back to you, shirtless. his skin was pale, almost glowing in the soft light, his muscles defined yet subtle, the kind of physique that spoke of quiet strength. his shoulders were broad, tapering down to a narrow waist, and as he reached for a shirt, you couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps flexed, the smooth lines of his back. you knew it was wrong to look, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away, your gaze drawn to the way the muscles in his back moved as he pulled the shirt over his head.

it was only when he turned around, his eyes locking with yours, that you realized you had been caught. your breath hitched, a wave of heat flooding your face as you stumbled over your words, flustered and embarrassed. “i—i’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, “i didn’t mean to—” but he just smiled, that familiar, soft smile that you had seen countless times before. it was a smile that was both understanding and amused, as if he found your embarrassment endearing rather than intrusive. “it’s alright,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing. “you don’t have to apologize.”

you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the awkwardness of the situation, but then you found your voice again. “i just wanted to wish you a good night,” you said, your tone earnest, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. his smile widened, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he replied, “good night to you too.” there was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with something unspoken, and then you nodded, offering him a small, shy smile before turning to leave. as you walked away, you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of it sending a shiver down your spine.

when you returned to your room, the sense of restlessness had faded, replaced by a strange, warm feeling that you couldn’t quite explain. you slipped back into bed, pulling the sheets up around you, but this time, your thoughts were quieter, your mind slowly drifting towards sleep. in the room down the hall, yoongi stood for a moment, his mind replaying the brief exchange. he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you had grown and changed, to him, you were still that sweet, flustered angel—the same girl he had known all those years ago.

yoongi lay in the oppressive stillness of his room, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. the darkness enveloped him, offering no comfort, only amplifying the storm within. every attempt to find solace was met with the image of you in that absurdly tight white dress, an image that had seared itself into his consciousness with unforgiving clarity.

the sight of you—no longer the innocent child he once knew but a vision of such tantalizing allure—it was no shock when his hand found its way to his clothed dick, a silent admission of the battle he was losing. he began to stroke himself tentatively, the fabric of his boxers a barrier that only served to heighten the anticipation. his mind was a minefield of guilt and desire, each step he took towards release laden with the weight of his transgressions. he knew he should stop, that he should find some semblance of dignity and self-control, but his body was a traitor, demanding release from the prison of his own making.

his strokes grew more deliberate with his boxers gone, the friction increasing as he thought of what it would be like to touch you, to explore the softness of your skin and the heat that he was sure lay beneath. he bit his lip, trying to muffle the sounds of his own pleasure, his eyes fixed on the door that separated you from his indecent thoughts. the knowledge that you were so close only served to exacerbate his arousal, making his hand move faster and with more urgency.

his breath hitched as he imagined the moment of penetration, his cock pushing into you, feeling the warmth and wetness that was so alien to his usual solitary rituals. his hand was a poor substitute, but in the quiet of the night, it was all he had. the tension grew, a coil tightening in his balls, and he knew he was close. his thoughts grew more fervent, his strokes more frantic, until finally, with a silent groan, he reached climax.

his hand was sticky with his own release, a reminder of his failure to resist temptation. the guilt washed over him like a cold shower, leaving him trembling and ashamed. he knew he should clean up, should move on from this moment of weakness, but instead he lay there, panting and disgraced, the image of you still etched into his mind's eye. the quiet of the night was now a taunting silence, a reminder that he was alone in his depravity.

you awoke to the soft murmur of the morning light filtering through the curtains, its gentle embrace coaxing you from the depths of sleep. as you stretched languidly, you felt a sense of calm that made you smile. rising from your bed, you ribbed your eyes and padded softly down the stairs. the house was quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic ticking of a distant clock. it was a serene morning, perfect for easing into the day.

when you reached the kitchen, yoongi was already there, sitting at the table with a distracted air. his posture was rigid, and there was a certain tension in his demeanor that you couldn’t quite place. the moment you entered the room, his eyes flickered up toward you briefly before darting away. despite his efforts to look elsewhere, his gaze betrayed him, lingering far too long on your bare legs, which were still exposed, to his dismay. “good morning,” you said cheerfully, trying to set a light tone for the day. your voice was like a splash of warmth in the chilly air of the kitchen.

yoongi’s response was almost a whisper, a bare acknowledgment of your greeting. “morning.” you moved toward the coffee maker, the comforting routine of preparing breakfast a welcome distraction. “you want some coffee?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. “yeah, that’d be great,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of gratitude, though it was laced with an awkwardness that made you wonder about his mood.

as you busied yourself with the coffee, you noticed the kitchen was unusually empty. your parents were absent, a fact that piqued your curiosity. “where are my parents?” you inquired, your voice carrying a note of concern. yoongi shifted slightly, as if the question had pulled him from his own thoughts. “they’re out for the day,” he said, his gaze now firmly fixed on the table, avoiding meeting your eyes.

you nodded, accepting his answer without further question. the rhythmic sound of the coffee machine filled the silence as you went about your task. when you reached for the sugar, you bent over to retrieve it from the cabinet. the movement was casual, a natural part of your routine, but you were acutely aware of yoongi’s intense gaze. the breath caught in his throat was audible, a sharp intake of air that seemed to punctuate the otherwise silent kitchen. he watched the way your shirt rose, faltering just above your hips, giving him a view of your thighs pressed together, ass hanging in the air with nothing but a pair of stupidly red panties adorning your skin.

it struck you then that yoongi’s reaction was more than mere surprise. it was as if he was struggling to maintain composure, as though he thought you were doing this deliberately to tease him. but you weren’t aware of any such intent; it was simply the way you moved. you straightened up with the sugar and continued preparing the coffee. when you finally handed him his cup, his eyes met yours for a fleeting moment. despite the lack of makeup, you felt a surge of confidence in his presence. his eyes softened, and there was a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at his lips as he took the cup from you.

he cleared his throat, his voice tentative as he ventured into a new topic. “so, i’ve been meaning to ask about your writing. you seemed hesitant to talk about it last night.” you chuckled softly, the sound light and airy. “my writing is a product of all my worst parts,” you said with a shrug, attempting to downplay its significance.

yoongi’s eyebrows knitted together, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “i don’t believe you have any bad parts,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching yours for a hint of the truth. you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “you’d be surprised,” you replied. “there are things that even the closest people don’t see.”

his expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to ease. you felt a familiar sense of safety in his presence, as if no time had passed since the days when you had felt so secure in his company. the familiarity of his presence, combined with the casual conversation, made you feel as though the world outside had paused just for the two of you.

you prepared for a day by the pool with a casual elegance, slipping into a bikini that showcased your figure with a subtle confidence. over it, you draped a sheer cover—a delicate, airy jacket that fluttered with every movement, its only purpose to add a touch of grace rather than offer any real coverage. the fabric was almost ethereal, catching the sunlight with each step you took, giving you an otherworldly aura.

descending the stairs, you made your way back to the living room, where you spotted yoongi. the moment you entered his line of sight, he looked up, and the breath caught in his throat. his eyes widened, a visible shift in his demeanor as he took in the sight of you. his heart seemed to drop, overwhelmed by the sight of you in your swimwear, the sheer cover highlighting your figure in a way that was both mesmerizing and painfully distracting.

with a cheerful smile, you called out to him, “hey, i’m gonna be by the pool. if you need anything, i’ll be around.” he nodded, his response barely audible, as if his mind was struggling to catch up with the reality of the moment. there was a heavy silence between you, filled with unspoken tension, as you turned and made your way outside.

once by the pool, you settled into a lounge chair, stretching out and letting the warmth of the sun envelop you. the heat should have been palpable, but your thoughts were consumed by yoongi. the sun’s rays might have been intense, but they barely registered in your consciousness compared to the whirlwind of thoughts about him. your mind drifted, replaying moments with him, the sound of his voice, the way he looked at you.

the quiet of the morning was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. you turned your head, squinting against the sunlight to see yoongi emerging from the house. he was shirtless, the warmth of the sun glistening off his skin. in each hand, he carried a glass—one for him and one for you. you couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of him, the way his physique was revealed in the sunlight adding a new layer of intensity to your already tangled feelings.

he reached you and offered one of the glasses with a slight, nervous smile. “i brought you something to drink. vodka lemonade.” you accepted the glass with a grateful smile, the cool drink a welcome relief from the heat. “thank you,” you said, taking a sip and savoring the refreshing taste.

he sat down beside you, his own drink in hand. there was a hesitant chuckle in his voice as he remarked, “i can’t believe i’m watching you drink. it’s kind of surreal.” you laughed softly, the sound light and airy. “i’m not a little girl anymore,” you said, glancing at him with a playful glint in your eye. “can you believe it?”

yoongi’s laughter was nervous, a strained attempt at casualness. “yeah, i can,” he replied, though the lie was almost tangible in the way he avoided your gaze. oh, if only you had known just how deeply his words conflicted with his inner reality. the poolside atmosphere was serene, the gentle ripples of the water reflecting the sunlight and adding a soothing background to your conversation. you sipped your drink, feeling the cool liquid contrast pleasantly with the warmth of the sun on your skin. yoongi sat close beside you, the space between you charged with an undercurrent of unresolved tension.

the heat of the sun was almost unbearable, and you found yourself shifting restlessly on the lounge chair. the coolness of the vodka lemonade was not enough to quell the growing discomfort you felt. it wasn’t merely the oppressive heat that was troubling you; there was an unsettling awareness that you had developed feelings for yoongi, and it was all too complicated. you knew it was wrong, knew you shouldn’t feel this way, but the truth was undeniable.

rising from the lounge chair, you decided to seek refuge in the kitchen. the cool interior of the house was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside. you carried both glasses with you, their contents now barely touching the bottom of the tumblers. as you walked through the house, you could feel the tension in your steps, an eagerness to escape your own thoughts and the weight of your emotions.

once in the kitchen, you set the glasses down and grabbed the bottle of vodka and the jug of lemonade. the motion of pouring the vodka into the lemonade, the swirl of the liquid mixing together, was almost meditative. yet, the comfort of the routine did little to ease the restlessness simmering within you. in an effort to cool off, you discarded your sheer cover, letting it fall onto a nearby chair. the fabric slid off your shoulders and pooled on the seat, leaving you in your bikini once more.

the heat of the kitchen seemed to intensify as you stirred the drink, but it wasn't just the temperature that was making you sweat. you were grappling with the undeniable reality that you had feelings for yoongi—feelings that were supposed to be off-limits. the conflict inside you was almost as unbearable as the heat itself. he was quite literally your father's best friend, you had to keep repeating that to yourself, praying for some sort of voice of reason.

just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps alerted you to yoongi’s presence. you turned to find him standing at the kitchen entrance, his eyes fixed on you. for a moment, time seemed to freeze. your heart leaped in your chest, each beat echoing the tumult of emotions that had been swirling within you. you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “are you okay?” you asked, the words slipping out with a hint of vulnerability.

his gaze was intense, almost pained as he took a step closer. he shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “how can i be okay?” he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. “with you like this around me, for the next month?” the words hung between you, charged with a tension that neither of you seemed able to escape. Your heart pounded as you processed the implication of his statement. it was clear now—he was feeling the same struggle, the same undeniable pull that you were.

you pressed your lips together, trying to find the right words. “i can’t handle it either,” you admitted quietly, the weight of your own confession settling over you. “but it feels so wrong.” to your surprise, yoongi closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. his hands reached out, gripping your waist with a firmness that was both reassuring and electrifying. his gaze was locked onto yours, filled with a blend of longing and resolve.

without another word, he pressed his lips against yours. the kiss was sudden, a powerful surge of emotion that seemed to silence every other thought in your mind. his touch was both demanding and tender, his lips moving with a desperate intensity that spoke volumes. when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with an almost anxious urgency. “does it still feel wrong?” he asked, his voice a low, husky murmur.

the question hung in the air, and without thinking, you responded by closing the space between you again. you pressed your lips against his, this time with a fierceness that matched the tumult of your feelings. the kiss was fervent, each movement a declaration of the emotions that had been kept in check for far too long.

his hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your body, lingering on your breasts. the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin made you gasp into his mouth. yoongi took advantage of the opportunity, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. you could feel the hunger in his touch, the need that mirrored your own.

his thumbs grazed your nipples, eliciting a moan from your throat. the sound seemed to drive him wild, and his touch grew more insistent. he pinched and rolled your nipples, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. your pussy grew wetter with each touch, and you found yourself grinding against his thigh, seeking relief from the growing ache.

his hands slid down to your waist, then under the fabric of your bikini bottom. with a swift motion, he pulled it aside, exposing your wet, eager pussy to the cool kitchen air. the contrast made you shiver, and you felt his cock harden against your stomach. the reality of what was happening was overwhelming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the feel of his hands on you, the taste of him, the promise of what was to come.

you broke the kiss, panting. “right here?” you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. yoongi nodded, his eyes dark with lust. “right here, right now,” he confirmed, his voice a gruff whisper. he stepped back, guiding you towards the kitchen counter. “i need to taste you,” he said, his gaze dropping to your pussy.

his words sent a thrill through you, and you eagerly climbed onto the counter. your legs parted, and he stepped between them, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. you watched as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. then, his tongue touched you. the sensation was exquisite, sending shockwaves through your body. you grabbed onto the edge of the counter, your knuckles turning white as you held on for dear life.

his tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and probing, as his fingers delved deeper into your pussy. you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tightening in anticipation. the air was thick with the scent of your arousal, and your moans filled the kitchen. it was all so wrong, but it felt so incredibly right.

his eyes met yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire to claim you in every way possible. without a second thought, you leaned back, exposing your throat. “choke me,” you begged, the words slipping out on a breathless whisper. yoongi’s eyes flared with surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. his hand wrapped around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel both safe and utterly vulnerable.

his mouth returned to your pussy, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. the feeling of his hand on your throat, the way he controlled your breathing, was intoxicating. your orgasm built, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over you. and when it finally hit, it was like nothing you had ever felt before—intense, all-consuming, and absolutely filthy.

his mouth remained on you, even as you gasped for air, his tongue lapping up every drop of your release. when he finally pulled away, his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction. “you gonna help me out, too?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “gonna suck my cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do?”

you slid off the counter, your legs wobbly from the intensity of your climax. dropping to your knees, you looked up at him, his cock standing proud and hard before you. without hesitation, you took him in your mouth, the taste of your juices mingling with the salty tang of his skin. his hand found its way to the back of your head, guiding you deeper. “fuck, princess, just like that,” he hissed, his grip tightening. you could feel his cock thicken in your mouth, and the power of the moment was exhilarating. you sucked and licked, eager to please him, to show him how much you wanted this.

his hips began to rock, fucking your mouth with an increasing urgency, his head embracing the back of your throat. you didn't care, you had all the reasons in the world to stop and set boundaries, but even more not too. he pulled at your hair, grunting with his heavy cock splitting your throat open. he looked down at you, your teary eyes and puffy lips, and it only made it worse for him, his cock throbbing in your mouth, but he couldn't cum like that. he needed to feel you, to tear you apart, to ensure that you'd never look for that kind of control from any other boy. nobody but him, he was the perfect pick. you needed somebody just a little bit older.

his cock slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop, and before you could even gasp for air, he turned you around, pressing you against the counter. his hand found its way into your bikini again, two thick fingers plunging into your pussy. you felt yourself stretch around him, your body begging for more. “you're soaked,” he murmured, his voice filled with a dark kind of glee. “you're gonna be the death of me.” you pushed back against his hand, wanting him to go deeper, to fill the ache that had only been heightened by his touch. “please,” you moaned, the word barely coherent as it slipped from your lips. “i need you.”

yoongi stepped closer, his body pressing against your back. “you're gonna get me,” he promised, his voice gruff with desire. he removed his fingers and lined up his cock, pressing the head against your entrance. he hadn't even pushed past your sopping folds yet, and you were already a mess. you felt him enter you, inch by inch, stretching you out. it was painful and perfect all at once, his girth splitting you open, filling you up in a way that made you feel so full, so alive. you bit your lip to stifle a scream as he pushed deeper, until he was fully seated inside you. your pussy clenched around him, desperate to keep him there, to never let him go.

his hand returned to your throat, squeezing gently as he began to move. the counter was cold against your stomach, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was the way he filled you, the way his cock slammed into you with each powerful thrust. his other hand snaked around your body, playing with your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

his grip tightened on your throat, cutting off your air. you felt the panic rise, but it only made you wetter. “you like that, don't you?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “you like being choked while i fuck you?” your eyes rolled back in your head, and you nodded frantically. it was sick, it was twisted, but you didn't care. it felt too good to think about stopping.

his strokes grew faster, more erratic, his breathing ragged in your ear. “i'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained. “where do you want it?” you choked out the words, “inside me,” and he growled his approval. with one final, powerful thrust, he released his grip on your throat, and you felt his warmth flood into you. your body convulsed around him, your own orgasm ripping through you with a ferocity that left you trembling.

his cock remained buried inside you as he leaned over, pressing his sweat-slicked chest against your back. “all mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “mine to fuck, to fill up with my cum.” your pussy clenched around him, milking every drop he had to give. the thought of his cum inside you, claiming you, made your core throb with a deep, primal need.

his cock slid out of you, and you felt the emptiness acutely. but before you could protest, he was pushing his cum-soaked fingers into your mouth. “have a taste,” he demanded, and you eagerly complied. the taste was salty and bitter, but it only served to drive you wild. your eyes watered as you sucked on his digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

he pulled away, his fingers tugging your bikini bottom up, the fabric pushing his sticky cum further into your sore cunt. “keep it in,” he ordered, his eyes dark and possessive. “i don't want my cum to spill out of that tight little cunt.” you nodded, standing on shaky legs. he reached out, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to his. “good girl,” he praised, his eyes searching yours.

you stepped away from the counter, the stickiness between your legs a constant reminder of what had just happened. your bikini was askew, and your body was still flushed with arousal. yoongi reached out, gently adjusting your bottoms to cover your swollen pussy. “don't tell anyone,” he whispered, his eyes serious. “this is our little secret.” you nodded, your throat tight with the promise of more to come. the air was thick with the scent of sex, and the kitchen felt different now—like a sacred space where you had both lost and found something in the heat of passion. “i won't,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “but what happens now?”

yoongi leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “now,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “we do this again, and again. until we can't get enough of each other.” his hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing it possessively. “you're mine, and i have no intention of letting you go.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and fear. you knew this was wrong, knew that it could ruin everything, but the feeling of his cum inside you, his claim on your body, was too tempting to resist. you were in too deep, and you had no intention of climbing out

the hours stretched interminably, the passage of time marked only by the shifting light that filtered through the windows. you found yourself drifting between contemplation and restlessness, your thoughts endlessly circling the intimacy you had shared with yoongi. the weight of the moment, the raw intensity of the sex, seemed to press down on you with an almost unbearable gravity.

you had retreated to your room, seeking solace in its familiar confines. the bed, once a place of comfort, now felt like a vessel of confusion and regret. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the room around you bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight. your mind was a turbulent sea, tossing around memories of the kiss, the touch of his hands on your waist, and the conflicted look in his eyes. the sex, though fleeting, had been a revelation, an unspoken admission of what lay between you, and the enormity of it was daunting.

every time you closed your eyes, his face would appear, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and anguish. the guilt that gnawed at you was mirrored by his own struggle. you had noticed it earlier when he had walked away from the kitchen, his shoulders slumped and his expression a portrait of internal conflict. it was clear that he was grappling with the same turmoil that had taken root within you.

the silence of the room was occasionally broken by the vibrations of your phone. the pings were a jarring intrusion into your contemplation, each one a reminder of the world outside your cocoon of worry. finally, when you reached for your phone, you found a message from taehyung, a friend whose exuberance was a contrast to the somber mood you were engulfed in. it read, “hey! i heard you’re back in daegu. i’m at the club tonight, and it’s been a while. you should come out and join me.”

the simplicity of taehyung’s invitation, the promise of an evening away from your internal strife, was like a breath of fresh air. it was exactly what you needed to escape the relentless spiral of guilt and self-reproach that had been consuming you. the thought of a night at the club, surrounded by friends and lost in the rhythm of music, was a welcome distraction, a way to momentarily forget the weight of your decisions and the confusion surrounding your feelings for yoongi.

without hesitation, you texted him back, accepting his invitation with a mix of relief and eagerness. the prospect of spending a night out, dancing and socializing, offered a tangible remedy to the unease that had settled so heavily upon you. in the privacy of your room, you stood in front of the mirror, preparing for a night out at the club. you had carefully chosen an outfit that was both stylish and expressive of your current mood—a sleek, black dress with a daring neckline that accentuated your figure, paired with heels that added just the right amount of allure. the dress clung to your curves in a way that felt both confident and liberating, each movement highlighting the grace you carried with you.

you applied your makeup with a meticulous touch, opting for a smoky eye that added a touch of glamour, and a bold lip color that completed the look. each brushstroke was a deliberate effort to transform yourself into someone who could temporarily escape the heaviness of recent days. the final touch was a pair of sparkling earrings that caught the light as you moved, completing your ensemble with a flourish.

as you finished getting ready, you heard the faint sounds of yoongi moving about in his room across the hall. you knew he was there, but the emotional weight of your recent interactions had kept you from directly addressing him. yonight was about reclaiming a sense of normalcy and fun, and the club seemed like the perfect escape. as you prepared to leave, you crossed the hall to grab a quick look at your reflection in the full-length mirror one last time. just as you turned, yoongi’s door opened slightly. he stepped into the hallway, his eyes widening in surprise as they took in the sight of you.

“where are you off to?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity mingled with an undertone of something else—something darker. you flashed him a bright, carefree smile, trying to inject a sense of lightness into the conversation. “taehyung is taking me to a club tonight,” you said, your voice cheerful despite the undercurrent of unease you felt.

his reaction was immediate. a flicker of frustration crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a strained smile. “okay,” he replied, his voice barely concealing the tension that simmered beneath his words. “have a good time.” you nodded, feeling a pang of guilt at his subdued reaction, but the promise of a night out with friends was too alluring to ignore. you offered a final smile before turning and walking down the stairs, the click of your heels echoing in the quiet house.

as you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you with a refreshing contrast to the warm interior. taehyung was waiting by his car, his face lighting up with a friendly grin as he saw you approach. he stepped out of the vehicle, and the two of you exchanged a warm hug. his arms encircled you in a friendly embrace, his laughter ringing out as he playfully commented on how good you looked.

from the window, yoongi watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. he saw the way taehyung looked at you, the way his eyes lingered on you with an admiration that seemed to cut through the night’s darkness. the casual familiarity of your hug, the easy way taehyung interacted with you, ignited a smoldering frustration within yoongi. he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the bubbling anger that rose within him. it wasn’t just the sight of you with someone else—it was the way taehyung’s gaze seemed to hold a mixture of affection and possessiveness that yoongi found almost unbearable. every movement, every gesture, seemed to etch itself into his memory with a burning intensity.

as you and taehyung got into the car and drove away, yoongi’s eyes remained fixed on the scene. the darkness of the night and the dim streetlights cast long shadows, but his thoughts were sharp and clear. the image of taehyung’s hug, the warmth and ease between the two of you, was seared into his mind, adding fuel to the smoldering frustration that had taken root within him.

the club was a pulsating whirl of neon lights and thumping bass, the energy of the crowd vibrating through the floor and into your very bones. the air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume and sweat, and the faint haze of smoke from the fog machines created an almost dreamlike atmosphere. music reverberated through every corner, a relentless beat that drove the rhythm of the night.

you and taehyung arrived to a warm welcome from the crowd, who greeted you with a mix of admiration and excitement. the club’s patrons had clearly heard of your return to daegu, and you were immediately swept up in the buzz of their enthusiasm. as you made your way through the throng of bodies, taehyung by your side, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of flashing lights and lively chatter.

at the bar, you signed another autograph, your signature fluid and practiced as you scrawled your name on a series of glossy photos and memorabilia. taehyung stood beside you, his laughter a comforting sound amid the chaos. “i’ll never get used to this,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. his eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and curiosity. you chuckled softly, the sound almost lost amidst the cacophony of the club. “neither will i,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. the constant attention, the flashes of cameras, it all felt a bit surreal, a reminder of the world you had momentarily stepped away from.

his expression softened as he glanced at you, noticing the subtle change in your demeanor. “why so down?” he asked, his tone gentle but inquisitive. you hesitated for a moment, the weight of your recent experiences heavy on your shoulders. “it’s a long story,” you replied, not willing to delve into the complexities of your emotions right now.

his eyes showed a glimmer of understanding, and he didn’t press further. instead, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “well, don’t let it ruin tonight. you’re here to have fun, remember? just let go and enjoy yourself for once.” his encouragement was a lifeline, and you took it to heart. you smiled at him, gratitude mingling with the resolve to let the night’s energy lift you from your thoughts. “okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “let’s do this.”

the two of you moved towards the dance floor, the pulsating rhythm of the music beckoning you closer. as you stepped onto the floor, the crowd seemed to part and then close around you, a living sea of people moving in sync with the beat. he slipped into the rhythm effortlessly, his movements fluid and confident. you followed his lead, allowing the music to wash over you and carry away the remnants of your lingering worries.

the lights above shifted in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting dynamic patterns across the dance floor. you lost yourself in the beat, your body swaying and twisting in time with the music. the beats were relentless, and as you danced, you felt the strain of the day’s emotions slowly dissolve, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment. the music seemed to resonate with something deep inside you, a reminder of the joy and freedom that had once been so familiar.

you occasionally glanced at taehyung, who was clearly having a blast. his infectious energy was a bright spot in the evening, and his carefree dancing seemed to pull you further into the night’s festivities. every now and then, he would catch your eye and flash a grin, as if to say, “see? isn’t this fun?”

as the night wore on, you took a break from dancing to grab a drink. the bar was bustling with activity, and the bartender quickly mixed a vibrant cocktail that was both refreshing and potent. you sipped the drink, feeling its coolness slide down your throat, and let the alcohol take the edge off your remaining anxieties. the conversation around you was a pleasant hum, and you found yourself engaging in light, cheerful banter with a few fellow partygoers.

every once in a while, you would catch sight of taehyung making his way through the crowd, often surrounded by a small group of admirers. his laughter and charisma were magnetic, drawing people in and creating an atmosphere of shared joy. you were grateful for his presence, his ability to make the night feel lighter and more enjoyable.

the night continued in a blur of music, dancing, and shared moments of joy. you felt a renewed sense of connection with taehyung and the people around you, a reminder that even amidst personal turmoil, there was still space for fun and camaraderie. as the hours passed and the club’s lights began to dim, signaling the approach of closing time, you felt a sense of contentment.

stepping outside into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, savoring the contrast between the heated club and the refreshing outside air. he stood beside you, his expression one of satisfaction and camaraderie. “see? that wasn’t so bad,” he said, nudging you playfully. you smiled, feeling a genuine sense of relief. “thanks for getting me out tonight,” you said. “i needed this.”

his grin widened. “anytime. let’s just make sure you don’t stay cooped up forever. there’s a lot more fun to be had.” as you both made your way to the car, the night felt lighter, and the burdens of the past few days seemed a little more manageable. the club had provided the distraction you needed, and as you drove away with taehyung, you allowed yourself to savor the fleeting moments of carefree joy that the night had offered.

in the stillness of the living room, the ticking of the clock seemed to echo louder with each passing second. yoongi sat slouched on the sofa, the dim light from the table lamp casting shadows across his face. his fingers fumbled with a can of beer, the metallic crumple of the empty container a testament to his mounting frustration. it was two in the morning, and you still hadn't come home. the silence of the house was oppressive, amplifying his anxiety and gnawing at his thoughts.

had something happened to you? had a stranger taken you for the night? the possibilities raced through his mind, each one more unsettling than the last. the quietness of the house was occasionally interrupted by the distant hum of the refrigerator or the soft rustle of the curtains, but these sounds did little to soothe his growing unease.

he watched the second hand of the clock tick away, each movement a reminder of the time slipping by. his fingers drummed impatiently against his knee, and the empty beer cans scattered on the table beside him were a reminder of how long he’d been waiting. the weight of his concern grew heavier with each passing minute, turning into an almost unbearable pressure.

finally, a sound broke through the silence—the unmistakable click of the front door opening. yoongi’s head snapped up, his heart racing with a mixture of relief and frustration. he watched as you stumbled into the living room, your movements unsteady and your eyes slightly glazed. the sight of you brought a wave of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of anger.

you wobbled slightly as you approached him, your gaze softening as you took in his presence. with a tired but genuine smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. “i missed you,” you murmured, your voice thick with the effects of too many martinis. he let out a low chuckle, his amusement tinged with exasperation. “you smell like alcohol,” he observed, his tone more resigned than accusatory.

you frowned slightly and gestured towards the table where the empty beer cans lay. “and you’re no better,” you retorted, a playful edge to your words despite your unsteady stance. he raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “what were you doing at the club for so long?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

you shrugged, your arms still draped around his neck. “having fun,” you replied, a hint of mischief in your voice. he scoffed, a small smile playing on his lips. “with who?” he demanded, his tone edged with a hint of jealousy.

you grinned, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “with taehyung,” you said, the name rolling off your tongue with an affectionate lilt. his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the information. to your surprise, he reached out and gently lifted you up, placing you onto his lap. the movement was deliberate, his hold firm but gentle as he settled you comfortably. “with taehyung, huh?” he said, his voice low and contemplative as he looked at you.

you nodded shyly, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. “yeah,” you said softly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his gaze lingered on you, a conflicted mix of emotions evident in his eyes. “you two must be pretty close, huh?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of possessiveness.

you nodded again, feeling the intensity of his stare. “we’re friends,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering effects of the alcohol. his eyes darkened slightly, his frustration evident. “i don’t like that,” he said, his tone firm and resolute.

you tilted your head slightly, leaning into his touch as you pressed closer to him. “why not?” you asked, your voice soft and inquisitive. his hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing gently against your skin. “friends who look at you the way he does,” he said, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. he paused, his lips brushing against your neck as he continued, “make my blood boil.”

your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, the warmth of his breath mingling with the softness of his lips. the sensation was intoxicating, drawing you closer to him. without further hesitation, yoongi closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. the kiss was both urgent and tender, a mixture of the longing and frustration that had been building between you. his arms encircled you, pulling you even closer as the world outside seemed to fade away.

the kiss deepened, his fingers tangling in your hair as he explored the softness of your lips. it was a moment of pure connection, a release of the emotions that had been pent up for too long. the intensity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, made you feel as though nothing else mattered in that moment.

his hand slid down to the small of your back, his grip tightening as he pulled you onto his lap. the fabric of your black dress was thin, offering little resistance to his touch. you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, a silent declaration of his desire. your breath hitched in your throat as his hand moved higher, cupping your breast through the material. your nipples were already hard, begging for his attention.

without breaking the kiss, yoongi reached down and began to tug at the hem of your dress. the sound of fabric ripping filled the room as he pulled it up over your head, leaving you in just your lacy black lingerie. the sight of you half-dressed was almost too much for him to handle. his eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties. as he pulled them down, he caught a glimpse of the cum stain from earlier, a pleasant reminder of what he had done. his eyes flashed with possessive lust as he took in the sight of his dry cum on the fabric. “took it like such a good girl,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

his hands found your hips, guiding you onto his waiting erection. the sensation of skin on skin was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. he was rougher this time, his movements urgent and demanding. with each thrust, he slapped your pussy, the sound echoing in the quiet room. the stinging sensation only served to heighten your arousal, making you moan louder with each hit.

his hands gripped your waist, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you riding him like a wave. the feeling of his cock filling you up was almost too much to bear, but you craved more. your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons in his skin as you leaned back, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

his dirty talk grew more intense, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. “don’t wanna see you with anymore boys,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “they won’t ever get to have you like this.” the words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, your walls tightening around him as you neared climax. his strokes grew more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he approached his own release. you could feel him swelling inside you, his muscles tensing as he fought to hold back. but you were beyond caring about his control, your own need overwhelming any thought of restraint.

he took sight of the way his cock buried itself in your stomach, the outline evident. it was enoufh to make his dick twitch, he could practically see it happening. finally, with a guttural groan, he let go, filling you with his hot cum. the sensation pushed you over the edge, and you came hard, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. tears streamed down your face, not from pain, but from the intensity of the pleasure that consumed you. as you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air, you realized that this was the most alive you had ever felt.

“we need to stop doing this,” you exhaled softly, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. “stop?” he echoed, his voice gruff and surprised.

“it’s complicated enough already,” you murmured, your heart racing from the aftershocks of your climax. his grip on your waist tightened, his cock still pulsing inside you. “i don’t want us to stop,” he said, his voice unyielding. “is it such a crime to want you all to myself?”

his words sent a thrill through you, but also a pang of fear. you knew the consequences of your actions, the web of lies and deceit that would unravel if anyone found out. yet, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, the way he made you feel alive and desired in a way no one else ever had. you pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the present, the warmth of his embrace, the scent of your mingled arousal, and the sticky mess between your legs. it was a mess you didn’t want to clean up, a mess that was a testament to your shared passion.

his hands began to move again, stroking your body with a gentle fierceness that made your skin tingle. he knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you ache for more. his fingers traced the path of his earlier possession, the cum stain on your panties now a wet smear as he slid his digits through it.

you gasped as he brought his hand up to your face, your own cum glistening on his fingers. before you could protest, he brought them to your mouth and slid them in, urging you to taste. the sweet and salty flavor filled your mouth, and you felt a wave of submission wash over you. his other hand found your clit, his thumb flicking and circling the sensitive nub as he began to thrust into you once more. his cock was still hard, the friction of his earlier release only adding to the intensity of the moment.

you couldn’t help but moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave in to the sensations. the room spun around you, your body no longer your own as he claimed you over and over again. it was a rough, animalistic fucking that made you feel more alive than you ever had. his slaps grew more forceful, his words more demanding. “say it,” he ordered, his voice harsh in your ear. “say you’re mine, only mine.”

“yoongi,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m yours, only yours.” his pace quickened, his strokes becoming more erratic as he neared his second climax. you could feel his balls tightening, his body coiling like a spring ready to release. with a final, desperate groan, he emptied himself inside you, his cum mixing with your juices.

you collapsed onto him a second time, your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. the room was still, the only sound the harshness of your breathing and the thundering of your hearts. for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in a sea of passion and desire. but reality would come crashing back soon enough, with the light of day and the harsh truth of your actions. for now, though, you were his, and he was yours, bound by a secret that neither of you could escape.

you sat at your desk, the dim light of your lamp casting a soft glow over the pages of your journal. the room was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the pages as you turned them, the only sound breaking the silence of your introspective evening. the journal was your refuge, the place where you poured out your grief and unspoken pain, each word a release of the emotions that had been bottled up for too long.

your pen moved across the page in a hurried scrawl, the ink reflecting the depth of your sorrow. you wrote about the ache of missing your old self, the pressure of expectations unmet, and the weight of a future that seemed increasingly uncertain. tears blurred your vision, making the words on the page dance and waver. each tear that fell onto the paper seemed to absorb the rawness of your emotions, the ink smudging as your sorrow seeped into the pages.

you had shared so much with those sheets of paper, details of your grief that had remained unspoken. it was as if the journal was an extension of your heart, a place where your deepest fears and frustrations could find solace. but tonight, the act of writing felt especially cathartic and painful, the tears falling freely as you bared your soul to the empty pages.

the sound of footsteps from downstairs interrupted your solitude. you closed the journal and wiped your eyes hastily, trying to regain composure as you headed towards the staircase. the air downstairs was cooler, and the distant clinking of dishes and murmurs of conversation signaled that your mother was awake.

as you descended the stairs, you saw her seated at the kitchen table, her gaze directed towards the window. yoongi was in the living room, his presence a silent comfort in the midst of the familial tension. you greeted them quietly, your heart heavy with the emotions that you had tried so hard to contain. your mother looked up as you entered the kitchen, her expression unreadable. “how’s work?” she asked, her tone neutral but carrying a hint of concern. “when do you have to go back?”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “i’ll be going back after the month passes,” you replied, forcing a calmness that didn’t match the turmoil inside you. she nodded, but there was a shadow of disapproval in her eyes. “i prayed for your success, you know,” she said. “but i wish you had chosen a different path—one that’s more respectable. you could have been a doctor, a lawyer, someone who makes a real difference. instead, you’re just posing for a camera.”

the words struck you like a physical blow, each syllable a reminder of the gap between your aspirations and her expectations. your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, your heart aching with the weight of her judgment. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the apology feeling inadequate in the face of her disapproval. her gaze softened slightly, but the damage was done. the conversation had laid bare the fact that no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you achieved, your mother’s acceptance was always just out of reach. the realization was a sharp, stinging reminder of the ongoing struggle to reconcile your dreams with her expectations.

without a word, you excused yourself from the room, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your shoulders. you moved with a sense of urgency towards the bathroom, needing a moment away from the prying eyes and the crushing disappointment. in the bathroom, the cool, sterile light offered little comfort as you shut the door behind you. you leaned against the sink, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the tap, letting the water run until it became a soothing backdrop to your tears. the tears came freely now, each drop a release of the pain you had been holding inside. the harsh brightness of the bathroom seemed to amplify your emotions, every sob echoing in the stillness of the room.

you closed your eyes tightly, letting the tears flow unabated. the mirror reflected your tear-streaked face, the red-rimmed eyes a testament to the depth of your grief. you took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had been stirred up by your mother’s words. the tears were a release, a way of letting go of the pent-up frustration and sadness. as the sobs began to subside, you found solace in the simple act of crying, allowing yourself to feel the weight of your mother’s disapproval and the grief of your own unmet expectations. you knew that the moment of vulnerability was a necessary part of your healing process, a way to confront and process the emotions that had been building up inside you.

yoongi's heart felt heavy with the weight of the earlier conversation. his concern for you had deepened, and he felt an overwhelming urge to understand more about what you were going through. his feet, driven by a mix of worry and compassion, carried him towards your room. the door creaked open slowly, and yoongi stepped into the space that was so intimately yours. the room was bathed in a soft glow from a lamp on your nightstand, its light gently illuminating the walls adorned with photographs. his eyes were immediately drawn to the collection of images, a testament to the life you had lived.

photos of you as a little girl lined one wall, capturing moments of innocence and joy. in some, you were caught in candid laughter, a radiant smile lighting up your face. others showed you at milestones, each image a snapshot of a time before the complexities of adulthood began to weigh heavily on you. yoongi’s chest tightened at the sight, a pang of sorrow stirring in his stomach. it was impossible not to feel the ache of how much you had grown, how far you had come from that wide-eyed child full of dreams.

next to those nostalgic images were more recent photos—of you as you were now, your beauty more striking than ever, yet layered with an undeniable sadness. each photograph seemed to tell a story of its own, a reflection of the woman you had become. his heart ached at the contrast between the vibrant child in the old pictures and the poignant figure in the more recent ones. it was clear that beneath the surface of your radiant exterior lay a deep, unresolved pain.

his gaze was drawn to the desk, where he saw your journal resting atop a pile of neatly stacked papers. he hesitated for a moment, knowing it was a violation of your privacy, but the pull of his concern was stronger. with trembling hands, he opened the journal, its pages warm from the gentle light of the lamp.

the first entry his eyes fell upon was a stark revelation of your inner turmoil, “i want to die, doesn’t everyone?” the words were raw and haunting, a glimpse into the depths of your suffering. yoongi’s breath caught in his throat as he read on, his heart breaking with each line. you had written about sleepless nights, about the emptiness that came with a lack of meals, and the guilt you felt for your suffering despite having what many would envy. the words were a vivid portrait of your struggle, painting a picture of the pain you had carried alone.

further along, you wrote about your mother, your conflicted feelings towards her. despite her love, you had felt her disapproval, her preference for a different path for you. the way you described your feelings of inadequacy, the yearning for acceptance, cut deep into yoongi’s heart. each entry was a window into a world of quiet desperation, a reflection of your most private fears and regrets.

as his eyes scanned the entries, he felt a profound sadness. the weight of your words, the anguish you had poured onto the pages, seemed to press down on him with a crushing force. he was lost in the depth of your pain when he heard the softest of voices behind him. “it’s stupid, isn’t it?” he turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, a sad smile on your face, the remnants of tears still visible on your cheeks. his heart ached even more seeing you like that, so vulnerable and exposed. he took a step towards you, his face reflecting a mix of anguish and determination.

“nothing you feel could ever be stupid,” he said gently, his voice laden with sincerity. his hand reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that spoke volumes. “why didn’t you tell me about this? why didn’t you share any of this with me?” you shrugged, your gaze falling to the floor as if it held the answers you couldn’t articulate. “i always had a feeling i’d never live long,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

yoongi’s breath caught at your words. the notion that you felt such a finality in your existence was more than he could bear. without thinking, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug was a physical manifestation of his anguish and his need to offer you comfort. he stiffened as he held you, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders. “never say that again,” he whispered fiercely into your ear, his voice trembling with emotion. “is that really what you want? to leave me alone, to fight it all in silence?”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as you cried into his shoulder. “i’d give anything to be the little girl you remember,” you admitted between sobs. “i miss her more than anyone.”

his heart broke at your admission. he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own filled with an earnest intensity. “you should be proud of the woman you’ve become,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions within him. “that little girl would be so proud of you. and no one could be more proud than i am.”

you looked at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity, but all you found was a deep, unwavering conviction. “you really think so?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “yes,” he affirmed, his eyes locked onto yours with a warmth that seemed to dispel the shadows of doubt. “she would be proud, but nobody could be as proud as me. you’ve grown into someone incredible, someone who has faced so much and still stands strong.”

in that moment, wrapped in his embrace, you felt a sense of comfort and acceptance that had been elusive for so long. his words, filled with genuine admiration and affection, offered a glimmer of hope amid the lingering darkness. you clung to the promise in his voice, the promise that despite everything, you were valued, you were loved, and you were worthy of pride.

✧.*

a/n: a shorter one lol a dabble if u will

you pretty, he ugly, u swan, he frog !

✧.* 18+ MDNI — BTS (방탄소년단)

✧.*

you were desperate for him, you always were. it was a common fact, something you knew well, but he seemed to know even better. it was the sole reason you were in that godforsaken position. NAMJOON laid back, his elbows crossed behind his neck as he gazed up at you, a look of amusement playing on his face. you were on his lap, knees bent and spread for him, sopping cunt on display with nothing to cover it but a pair of sheer lace panties.

he enjoyed teasing you as much as he loved taking care of you. he would give you whatever it was you wanted, you just had to beg him for it. it was the sole reason you sat there, sulking with swollen lips and a pout on your face. “please, joon,” were the only words that you could muster up. a smirk graced his lips, one of his hands finally retracting. he quirked his eyebrow, his rough thumb finding its way to your swollen clit. he didn’t want to give in immediately, but you made it hard to resist. he could feel the way his cock strained beneath his tight boxers, pressing into the naked flesh of your thigh.

“please what, baby? don’t go dumb on me yet,” he practically purred at the way your thighs trembled at the slightest touch, a whimper passing your lips as he toyed with your pussy, using nothing but his thumb to press your sensitive clit down. “use your words for me.” you wanted to, but it seemed impossible. you eased yourself into his touch, trying to get as much friction as possible. you could feel the way his hard cock pressed itself into your skin, begging for some sort of relief.

you needed to give in, to give him what he wanted. “please, joonie,” you repeated, wiping away the tears that were blurring your vision. “please fuck me, please.” it seemed to be enough for him to give in, your cries shooting straight through his dick. after what could’ve been at eternity to you, his fingers finally wrapped themselves around your panties, tugging them down your thighs.

the cool air reacted with the overwhelming warmth that flooded your core, sweeping over your sopping cunt. he hadn't planned on looking away, and he sure wasn't going to. his eyes fall on your pussy, now on display for him and nobody else to see. “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” his tone was taunting, mocking the fact that you had given in so quickly, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to have him, to feel him.

his hand left your clit and slid down to his cock, stroking it lightly through the fabric of his boxers. “you’re so eager, aren’t you?” he whispered, his eyes darkening with lust. your cheeks flushed red as he pulled down the waistband of his boxers, his cock springing free. it was big, much bigger than you had anticipated. it wasn’t your first time seeing him, but you never seemed to get used to it. a wave of excitement and fear washed over you, but you were too far gone to turn back now.

you nodded, biting your bottom lip as he lined up his cock with your entrance. he was gentle at first, pushing the tip in just enough to tease you. “you’re so tight, baby. this okay?” he whispered, his voice thick with want. you nodded again, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders for balance. you felt like you could come from just that small gesture, your body was so sensitive.

his grip on your hips tightened as he began to push in deeper, inch by inch. your eyes watered as you felt yourself stretching around his size, trying to accommodate him. “fuck, joon,” you breathed out, the pain mixing with pleasure. he didn’t stop, instead he picked up the pace, his cock sinking into you until he fully bottomed out. “you’re doing so good, baby. you’re taking me so well,” he praised, his voice strained. his thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, firm circles as he began to move his hips. tears blurred your vision as you accompanied this thrusts, your legs working to help you bounce. he held your hips, hands working over the flesh of your ass as he watched you struggle to take him whole.

his cock was thick and long, the head hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. “oh my god, joon,” you moaned, throwing your head back. he grinned, his eyes never leaving yours. “you’re so beautiful when you’re taking my cock like this. tell me how good it feels,” he urged. your cheeks burned at his words, but you couldn’t help but admit it. “it feels so good, so full,” you whined, the pleasure building with each stroke.

his hands slid up to your waist, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties to keep them out of the way. he bucked his hips up, meeting your downward motion with more force. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your whimpers of pleasure. “that’s it, ride my cock, baby. just like that,” he groaned, his eyes never leaving your face. your hands moved to his chest, nails digging into his flesh as you picked up speed. you felt like you were going to explode from the inside out.

his cock hit you so deep that you could feel it in your stomach, the sensation overwhelming. your pussy was so wet that it was making obscene sounds with every movement. “you’re so wet for me, baby. so tight and warm. can’t believe how good you feel around me,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. his hips began to rock into you faster, his strokes becoming more erratic as he approached climax. “i’m gonna cum, baby. gonna fill you up,” he warned. you leaned forward, your breasts bouncing in his face as you whispered, “please, namjoon. want all of you inside me.” his eyes rolled back in his head, and with one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself into you. the feeling of his warm cum filling you up was indescribable, making your orgasm crash over you like a tidal wave.

you collapsed onto him, his cock still twitching inside of you. your breathing was heavy, and your body felt like jelly. he kissed the side of your neck, his hands stroking your back soothingly. “you’re amazing, baby. i knew you could take it all,” he said, his voice filled with pride. your cheeks flushed at his praise, but you couldn’t find the energy to speak. you just lay there, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through your body.

✧.*

the studio was his safe spot, the place he spent a majority of his time. whether he was in the middle of producing a song, or writing a lyrical draft, he found peace in the comfort of the studio. you had nothing against it, you understood his love for music better than anyone, and you often found yourself keeping him company while he worked. he thought of you as more than his girlfriend, you were his muse. he enjoyed his time in the studio more when you were around, even if it was just to keep him silent company.

other times, however, the company was less silent. YOONGI often found himself in a haze of frustration. sometimes, his brain refused to be as persistent as he wanted it to be, which led to sloppier lyrics and various pieces of paper crumbled up and discarded. you knew he had it rough, that he so desperately strived to give it his all and, in return, receive the perfection he craved. it was one of those days, unfortunately. his brain had fogged up, and he didn’t know where to go from there. he was stuck, and in desperate need of release. this time, in more ways than one.

“fuck, just like that,” his cock was heavy against the flat of your tongue, hard and intimidating as his angry, red tip leaked into your mouth. you did more than keep him company, you gave him your all. he appreciated it, you could tell by the way his eyes rolled back as his fingers tugged at your hair, hips bucking upward for you. his desk was cluttered with notes and empty cups of coffee, the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint smell of sweat. you didn’t care. you liked this side of him, the side that was raw and human. you liked how he forgot to be the stoic and composed artist when he was lost in the moment with you.

his breath hitched as you took him deeper, your throat tightening around his thickness. your eyes watered, but you didn’t dare pull away. it was your way of saying sorry for not being able to help him earlier. for not knowing the right words to say or the right notes to play. his hand gripped the back of your neck, and his other hand found yours, threading your fingers together in a silent plea for comfort.

his thighs began to tremble, and you knew he was close. your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked harder, and his curses grew louder. “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum,” he panted, his voice hoarse from the strain. you felt a thrill in knowing you had that power over him, that you could pull him out of his head and into the present. so, you kept going. your lips were swollen around the base of his cock, travelling up and down as you sucked him in, the sensation of your mouth wrapped so tightly around him almost too much to bear. your free hand cupped his balls, fondling them and lightly pressing as you sucked him off, the sounds of slurping obscene as you came up after every bob of your head, just to press the tip of your tongue into his slit.

his hand tightened around yours as he finally started to come undone, spurts of hot cum hitting the back of your throat. you swallowed it all, eyes locked on his. he watched you, his expression a mix of pleasure and relief. once he was done, he sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. “thank you,” he murmured, the tension in his voice dissipating.

you looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips as you licked him clean. “anything for you, yoongi,” you whispered, standing up to kiss him. he tasted like salt and satisfaction. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. his lips were gentle now, a definite contrast to the roughness of your earlier activity. “let’s take a break,” he suggested, his voice still thick with lust. “you’ve earned it.”

✧.*

everybody had their limites and boundaries. you knew when those boundaries could fade and crash just as well. you were perfectly aware of your capabilities, of how much you could take and handle. you made the choice not to push your limits, to not work yourself to the brink of exhaustion. HOSEOK knew just as well about how much you could handle, he was well aware of your physical boundaries, but he pushed them more than he cared to admit. for the most part, you didn’t mind, but he had a way of getting to you, making a mess of you.

“no more, i can't,” you felt the tears slip down your cheeks as your head spun, the beat of your heart quickening as you felt your fourth orgasm of the hour creep up. hoseok hummed against your slick cunt, his tongue lapping away at your slick. he kept his eyes open, just to get the picture perfect view of your abused cunt, red and swollen, yet it was wet with desire, still calling out to him. “you can do it, come on,” he murmured softly, his tongue flicking your overstimulated bundle of nerves in a way that had you crying. “you can cum for me, can’t you?” you felt weak, like the weight of the world was in your arms, yet you could still feel the coil in your stomach tightening.

his eyes flickered up to yours, looking for the usual spark of lust and need. instead, he saw something different. something that made his heart drop a beat. your eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated, and your breathing was shallow. the need was still there, the want was still burning deep within you, but you were close to the edge of pain. hoseok knew he had to be careful. but he was selfish, so very selfish. his own desires clouded his judgment as he pushed for one more. his thumb circled your clit, pressing down hard as his tongue worked faster, fucking into your pussy like he wanted to taste every part of you. your hands fisted into the bed sheets, your body arching off the bed as you tried to escape the pleasure.

you felt the tremor in your legs, the beginnings of another orgasm crashing into you like a wave. hoseok’s eyes never left yours as he watched the desperation play out on your face. he knew you were close to breaking. he could feel your body tense up, the way your cunt was trying to clamp down on his tongue. he knew he had to give you relief. so he pushed harder, faster, until your eyes snapped shut and your back arched. a scream tore from your throat as your pussy clenched around his tongue, the walls fluttering as you came once more. he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. he wanted to see how far he could push you, how much you could take before you truly broke.

the tremors subsided, your body going limp against the bed. hoseok’s tongue slowed, the pressure on your clit lightening until it was almost non-existent. your breathing was ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly. he pulled away, looking up at you with a smug smile on his face. “see, i knew you could do it,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. but there was something else there, something darker. he was proud of himself, proud of how much he had pushed you. but as he looked at you, sprawled out and glistening with sweat and cum, he felt a twinge of guilt. maybe he had gone too far this time. maybe he had pushed too hard. but the way your chest still heaved, the way your cunt still spasmed around his thumb, told him that you hadn’t had enough. so he leaned in again, ready to give you one more, ready to push you to the edge once again.

his mouth found yours, the taste of your need still lingering on his tongue. he kissed you deeply, his thumb still playing with your sensitive clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned into the kiss, your hands reaching up to pull him closer, needing more of him. you didn’t care about the pain anymore, all you could feel was the pleasure that he brought you. and so he continued, his kisses growing more demanding as he felt your body respond. he knew he could get one more out of you, he knew you wanted it.

his cock was hard and heavy against his stomach, begging for attention. hoseok broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked down at you. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice gruff with need. you complied, rolling onto your stomach. he climbed on top of you, his cock pressing against your wet pussy from behind. without preamble, he thrust into you, filling you up in one swift motion. you cried out, the pain mixing with pleasure as he began to fuck you. his hips slammed against your ass, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body. you felt your orgasm building again, and you knew you couldn’t hold out much longer.

but hoseok wasn’t done with you yet. he reached around, his hand finding your clit once again. he rubbed it in small, tight circles, his other hand gripping your hip to keep you in place as he fucked you hard and fast. you felt your pussy tighten around his cock, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. “yes, like that, baby, come for me one more time,” he groaned, his voice in your ear sending shivers down your spine. and then it hit you, the most intense orgasm of the night. your body convulsed, your cunt clamping down on his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. hoseok’s thrusts grew erratic as he felt you come, his own orgasm following closely behind. he filled you up, his cum mixing with your juices as he buried his face in your neck, panting heavily.

once he had caught his breath, he rolled off of you, his body slick with sweat. he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. you nodded, your eyes still closed as you tried to process the intensity of what had just happened. you were okay. more than okay. you were alive, you were alive with pleasure, with passion. and as you snuggled closer to him, feeling his heartbeat against your chest, you knew that it was what you wanted. it was what you needed. and as long as hoseok was there to give it to you, you would never say no.

✧.*

there was something so pretty about the way he was eager to give himself to you, about the sense of purpose he felt knowing he was all yours. he wanted you to do whatever it was you wanted to him, it made him livid. it was the same principle that made your pussy wet, the same thing that made you protective of him. he was so sweet, so fragile, and he was all yours. there was nobody he loved more, nobody he trusted more. he belonged to you, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

his moans were light and airy, his touch feather-like, it was like he was afraid of hurting you. his eyes were slick with tears, his lips plump and wet with his own drool. he was like a lost puppy, one that was needier than the rest. he craved all of your attention, he wanted to feel you for the rest of his life. the thought of anybody else having you made him sad. not angry, just sad. it made his heart break and often drove him to tears, because he never wanted you to look at anyone else, let alone give them what you gave him.

JIMIN was sprawled on the bed, his hair slick with sweat as it stuck to his forehead. he was breathing heavily, eyelids heavy as he took in the sight of you, bouncing on his dick and using him for your pleasure. it drove him insane, how you used his dick to get off, and he could never get enough of it. he watched the way your tits bounced with every impact, your nails grazing his chest as you clenched around his cock.

you toyed with his nipples, the sound of his whimpers sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. he looked at you, eyes wet with tears of pleasure as you leaned in, pressing soft kisses to his face. “feel good, baby?” he nodded weakly in response, his dick throbbing at your low, seductive tone. his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your lips against his skin, clashing with the way you milked his dick, raw and dry. “too good,” he whispered, voice cracking. he couldn’t think, let alone speak.

you pushed back the sweaty hair from his face as you bounced on his dick, the sensation allowing you to freely convulse around him. no matter how sweet and shy he was, the sheer feeling of him hitting your sweet spot always made you moan with him. he was more sensitive than you, more gentle, but it didn’t take away from the fact that he made you feel good. his hands shyly cupped your tits, his small fingers toying with your nipples. he took note of the way you clenched around him, the way your mouth hung open at the feeling of him, it made him fall apart for you. he always fell apart for you.

his breath hitched as you leaned back, giving him a better view of his cock sliding in and out of you. you watched his expression as you rode him, his eyes widening with every movement. his pupils were blown out, his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. you knew he was close, and the power it gave you was exhilarating. your hands squeezed his thighs as you sped up, his dick swelling within you. jimin’s eyes snapped to yours, a silent plea for release.

you leaned down, pressing your chest against his, and whispered in his ear, “cum for me, baby.” and with those words, he did. his cock twitched and pulsed, filling you up without any barrier between you two. the feeling was intense, the warmth spreading through your core as he came deep inside of you. jimin’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body going limp beneath yours as he let out a long, drawn-out moan.

his eyes snapped open and met yours, his chest heaving with exertion. there was something so raw about this moment, something so intimate that it made your heart race. jimin’s cheeks flushed even more, his eyes a mix of pleasure and fear as he felt you pulse around him. “you’re so perfect, baby,” you murmured, kissing him sweetly. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, but all he saw was truth. he was yours, and in this moment, you were his everything.

✧.*

there was something so frightening about the thought of being a mother. you couldn’t quite place what the reason was. maybe you didn’t want to go through the procedure, the pain and physical changes that came as the price. maybe you feared you wouldn’t be the ideal mother, the ideal wife. whatever the reason was, you knew you were afraid. it wasn’t to say that you’d never become one, maybe you would. maybe you'd change your mind, when the time was right.

your husband was the exact opposite. there was something about the thought of you—swollen, round and helpless with his baby in your belly, that absolutely drove TAEHYUNG insane. he often found himself fantasizing about it, about how he’d get to have a family with you, about how he’d be the perfect father to your babies. he never pressured you, but it was evident in more ways than one that he was desperate for it.

it didn’t go unnoticed by you, especially while he fucked you. he made it obvious in a way that had you re-considering your previous decision. the way his eyes lit up in a rabid, hungry way, all the while he fucked you. it was the way his thrusts were harsh and sloppy as he buried himself to the brim of your sobbing cunt, as if he was readying himself for dumping all the cum he had to give you into the deepest pits of your pussy. it was the way he let you know, whispering filth in your ear, breathing heavy against your neck before he finally came undone in an animalistic way.

“let me fill this pretty pussy up, make you a mommy,” he babbled on and on and on as he fucked you, hips slamming against your bare skin. you were too fucked out to register any of it, dumbed down to recognizing nothing but the feeling of him inside you. he was feral, his hands rosming everywhere as he filled you up with his dick. “need to cum inside, get you all swollen 'n pretty for me, please,” he practically begged, his fingers toying with your tits, before dropping down to your ass, cupping the sweet flesh. then, they pressed into the skin of your stomach. you whined as he continued to slam into you, fingers pressing into the spot where the outline of his cock appeared under the surface. he groaned as he kneaded the flesh, imagining it to be the same spot where he’d fill you up with his cum.

his eyes were glossed over, and he was lost in his own world of thoughts, the kind that had you clutching the sheets, biting your lower lip. “you’re gonna be so beautiful, swollen with my babies,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, as his cock grew thicker, pressing into your womb. your body felt stretched to the limits, but in a way that was almost too good to handle. the fear you once had was slowly morphing into something else—desire. something about the way he talked about it, the way he acted when he was close to finishing, had you craving it. you didn’t know if it was the thrill of the idea or just his overwhelming need that had you rethinking your stance on the matter.

his pace grew erratic, his breaths coming out in sharp pants as he neared the edge. you felt the familiar warmth building up inside of him, his cock pulsing in time with his racing heart. “fuck, i’m gonna—“ he cut off with a groan, the word lost in the haze of pleasure that clouded his mind. and without any warning, he pulled out, stroking his cock vigorously, painting your stomach with ropes of cum. he watched with a wild look in his eyes as the white fluid trickled down towards your pussy, mixing with your juices.

you both laid there for a moment, panting and sweaty, before he leaned in to kiss you, his mouth tasting faintly of mint and salt. “that was amazing, baby,” he whispered, kissing you softly. you nodded, feeling a strange emotion bubble up inside of you. was it excitement? maybe it was fear. or maybe, just maybe, it was the acceptance of a future you never thought you’d want. “i love you so much,” he said, his eyes searching yours. and in that moment, you knew you’d do anything to make him happy—even if it meant giving him the one thing you were most afraid of. “maybe we should talk about it,” you murmured, and he pulled back, surprise etched on his face. “about what?” he asked, his voice tentative. “about having kids. about you cumming inside me, tae,” you said, your voice stronger than you thought it would be. his eyes lit up, hope shimmering in their depths. “really?” and all you could do was nod, because maybe, just maybe, you were ready to face that fear head-on.

✧.*

having a high sex drive wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. it was only human to have urges, desires, ones that were in desperate need of being explored. you understood that feeling all too well. not because you felt it every hour of every day, but because you had a boyfriend who knew his way around that feeling.

it wasn’t entirely JUNGKOOK’s fault, some of it was yours. it had something to do with the way you managed to look perfect, all the time. you didn’t feel the same way, but that didn’t matter. not to him. not while he saw you through rose-tinted glasses he had no intention of removing anytime soon. it was the sole reason of him being horny, all the time. he didn’t want to give you the impression that he was using you, because that really wasn't the case. he just needed you, all the time.

“again?” you inquired, despite the lack of shock on your face. it was replaced by a look of amusement as jungkook stood behind you, his rock hard cock pressing into your ass as he kissed your neck. “just can't be serious.” he had already fucked you that day, maybe two or three times. you stopped keeping count. he made it his mission to fill you up the second he woke up, and before going to sleep. he wanted you to go to sleep with him on your mind, his touch lingering on your skin. he wanted you to feel him, every second of the day for as long as you could. this time, you were both in a public setting, a very compromising situation with nothing but the wall of a public bathroom separating you from the rest of the group.

his hands snuck under your skirt, gripping your ass firmly as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. his breath was hot and you felt your cheeks flush with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. “not here, kook,” you protested weakly, pushing your ass back into him slightly. his grip tightened and his teeth grazed your earlobe. “why not?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “i need you, right now.”

his other hand reached around, cupping your mound through your underwear. your body betrayed you, your legs involuntarily parting to give him better access. you gasped as his fingers found your clit, stroking it with a gentle yet firm pressure. the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing made your heart race, but jungkook didn’t stop. if anything, it only made him more eager.

his hand slid down, his fingers slipping inside your panties and touching your wetness. you bit your lip to keep from moaning. “you’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “can’t wait to feel you around me again.” without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out as he kissed along your neck. you leaned back into him, trying to keep your balance as he played with your body.

the sound of the lock clicking into place was the only indication that you had any privacy. jungkook wasted no time, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall. his mouth found yours, kissing you deeply as his hand worked you over. you could feel his cock pressing against your stomach, straining against his pants. “i'll be quick,” he promised, his voice muffled by your kiss. “i just can't wait.”

his hand moved faster, your breath hitching with every stroke. you felt yourself getting closer, the tension building in your core. “right here, right now,” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours. “cum for me.” your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you as you moaned into his mouth. jungkook’s eyes widened in triumph, his hand never slowing down until your legs were trembling.

finally, he pulled away, his hand still resting on your thigh. “see?” he said, smirking. “it's always worth it.” you thought it was over, the humiliation you felt clashing with the pleasure, but it was far from over. your eyes widened as he struggled with his belt, dick hard in his jeans. no matter what, nor where, he needed to feel you.

his zipper was down in seconds, his cock springing free. it was hot and heavy in his hand as he stroked it. “spread your legs,” he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. you did as told, your heart hammering in your chest. “wider.” his hand slid between your legs, his fingers spreading your folds open. he stepped closer, aligning himself with your entrance.

without any preamble, he thrusted into you, filling you to the brim. you bit your lip to keep from crying out, your eyes squeezed shut. he didn’t care who might hear, his only concern was the feeling of your tight pussy around his cock. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips slamming into yours with an urgency that was almost violent. the sound of your bodies colliding echoed off the tiles, mixing with the occasional sound of someone walking by outside the stall.

you reached back, gripping his thighs to keep yourself steady as he fucked you. your knuckles turned white with the effort of staying quiet. it was so wrong, so risky, but that only added to the thrill. jungkook’s hand moved up to cover your mouth, muffling any noises you might make. “so good,” he breathed, his eyes never leaving yours. “so fucking good.” his thumb slipped into your mouth and you bit down on it, trying to keep quiet as he pounded into you.

his hand moved to your hip, holding you in place as he picked up the pace. you felt yourself climbing again, your body begging for release. “cum on my dick,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “i know you want to.” he was right because, just like that, you did. your pussy clenched around his cock as another orgasm rocked through you, your moan muffled by his hand. his eyes rolled back in his head as he followed, filling you up with his cum.

for a moment, you both just stood there, panting heavily. the sound of someone else entering the bathroom snapped jungkook out of his post-orgasm haze. he quickly tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up. “let's go,” he said, his voice normal once more. “we don't want to keep them waiting.” he washed his hands and opened the door, leaving you to fix your clothes and make sure you looked presentable.

✧.*

a/n: monday tuesday wednesday thursday friday 7 days a week

https://www.tumblr.com/keehomania/759550313251373056/i-live-in-constant-irrational-fear-that-ill-wake?source=share

Hi there: Just wanted to reach out to say you're not alone, I have had these thoughts too. I keep telling myself to get a grip and I'm over-reacting but there have been moments in the past couple of weeks when I've been sick with dread because the whole thing seemed to be spiraling out of control. Since the real CCTV footage was released, I've been feeling much better, but there's still that police interview to get through, which looks like it could be a disgusting circus.

But I'm sure Yoongi has excellent lawyers. No matter what kind of garbage the press gins up, his infraction shouldn't merit more than a fine and a temporary license revocation. The press can go fuck itself. Once he's settled things with the police, they've got nothing except hot air. And I hope at least some of these outlets (JTBC especially) get sued into bankruptcy.

Yoongi has a lot of people who love him, people who know him...and us, too. That's got to count for something. We can all support each other and send him all of our love and good energy. Our boy will get through this and in less than a year they'll all be out of the service and together again and this will be forgotten. In the meantime, please don't obsessively look for updates on the story, because you'll just see a lot of trashy, sensationalized clickbait that makes all of this look a lot worse than it actually is. The future's gonna be okay. :)

i'm so happy to hear somebody so level-headed and collected. the cctv footage was such a slap in the face to koreaboo and i loved it, but i really can't bring myself to get over the fact that so many people step on their necks. i've been here since 2015 and they've overcome so many things, it's insane. i've only had two occasions where i've truly feared for them, because they're always open about deflecting hate and such. jimin being body-shamed and receiving death threats was the first time i truly felt scared, only because of how young he was and how heartbroken he looked. this is the second time because suicide is so normalized in sk and their mental health awareness is a joke. jonghyun passed and almost 7 years later, no one seemed to learn anything from that and it breaks my heart

three words (세 마디) – kim taehyung (김 태형)

✧.* WC: 17.1K

✧.* SYN: white lines and white lies, loose ends and fake friends. money used to be the answer to all of your problems, but some problems just can’t be solved with money. some problems just can’t be solved at all.

✧.* 18+

the problems in your world were unlike those that others faced, but that wasn't entirely your fault. your life had always been a carefully curated mess, the kind that looked almost intentional. too many bottles of wine with names you could never quite pronounce, too many hits of something green that seemed to belong more in your hand than in anyone else’s, where it would have looked trashy, almost vulgar. white lines on glass tables and white lies whispered between teeth stained with the residue of indulgence. loose ends frayed in the chaos of your existence, each one tied to another false friend, another empty promise.

you had lived your life this way for as long as you could remember, drifting through the haze of late nights that bled into mornings, pretending that the simplicity you yearned for was just around the next corner, or at the bottom of the next glass. But somewhere along the line, the neat lines of your carefully managed chaos had tangled into something more sinister.

when had it all gotten so complicated? you couldn’t pinpoint the moment when the scales tipped, when the balance between indulgence and destruction tilted beyond repair. what was once a game of excess and appearances had become a reality that you no longer recognized, a world where the choices you made were no longer yours, where the control you once held slipped through your fingers like sand.

you found yourself lost in thought, tracing the thread of chaos back to its origins, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything had lost its rhythm. it was like trying to grasp smoke, the memories slipping through your fingers, elusive yet haunting. you had lived in the center of that storm for so long that it was hard to recall when the clouds had first gathered, but one memory stood out, crystallized in the haze of everything that followed.

it was an evening like so many others, the sky a muted shade of gray, as if even the heavens had grown weary. taehyung had been strolling alongside jungkook, his stride easy and unhurried, a joint dangling carelessly between his fingers. there was a sense of freedom in the way he moved, as if he belonged to the world in a way that you never quite could.

jungkook had been quieter than usual, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. he had scoffed, almost playfully, as taehyung brought the joint to his lips. “you’ve been smoking way too much, dude,” he had said, a hint of concern buried beneath the teasing. but taehyung had only shot him a look, one of those lazy, knowing smirks that always seemed to hide more than they revealed. without a word, he offered the joint to jungkook, his eyes gleaming with a challenge that only they could understand.

of course, he took it. it was a ritual, a shared understanding between them, one that you had never fully grasped. as he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl in his lungs, taehyung had watched him closely, a slight tilt to his head as if he were assessing something. “you look like you could use it,” he had remarked, the words almost too casual, laced with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. there was a pause, a moment where the world seemed to still, before he asked, “what’s on your mind?”

jungkook had sighed, the sound heavy with something unspoken, as he took another hit. he held the smoke in a second longer, as if drawing strength from it, before exhaling slowly and handing the joint back to taehyung. he could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes, the way he wrestled with himself, trying to find the right words. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. “i made a mistake.”

taehyung had scoffed, the sound light and disbelieving. “the golden boy would never,” he had said, the nickname slipping from his tongue with a hint of sarcasm, as if the very idea was preposterous. but jungkook had only shaken his head, his steps faltering slightly as they continued down the street. “it’s really bad this time,” he had admitted, the words carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore.

that was when taehyung stopped, his usual nonchalance replaced by something far more serious. the easygoing smirk faded, replaced by a frown as he studied jungkook’s face, searching for something in his expression that would explain the sudden shift. without hesitation, taehyung had thrown the rest of the joint away, grinding it under his shoe with deliberate force, as if the act could somehow erase the gravity of the moment.

“jungkook,” he had said, his voice steady but laced with an uncharacteristic urgency, “what did you do?”

he had never seen fear in jungkook’s eyes before, not like that. it was raw, unguarded, a glimpse into a part of him that he rarely showed. the memory of that look had stayed with him, long after the moment had passed, seeping into his thoughts whenever you tried to piece together the fragments of his own life. it was there, in that fleeting second, that he realized how far you had all fallen, how deep the chaos had truly run. and yet, even then, none of you had fully understood it. not until it was too late.

the memory of your nineteenth birthday was etched into your mind, a night that had been meticulously planned, every detail tailored to perfection. you had orchestrated the entire event with the enthusiasm of someone who believed they could control the world, if only for one evening. with your best friend by your side and your mother’s credit card in hand, you had ensured that this night would be one to remember.

tzuyu had been eager, her energy contagious as she helped you plan every aspect of the celebration. you had noticed that she had been a bit off lately, her usual spark dimmed by something you couldn’t quite identify, but tonight, she seemed like her old self again. it was a relief to see her that way, smiling and carefree, and you were more than happy to indulge in the illusion that everything was fine.

the club had been your choice, a pulsating heartbeat of music and lights, where the world outside ceased to exist. the two of you had danced until the rhythm became a part of you, your movements in sync with the beat, as if the night itself was a celebration of your existence. the crowd, the noise, the flashing lights—all of it was a backdrop to the bond you shared, the laughter and the whispers that passed between you like secrets. when you finally left, it was with tzuyu by your side, the two of you slipping into the back of the sleek, black limo waiting outside. the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the car pulled away, and you reached for the champagne that had been chilling in the ice bucket. with a grin, you handed it to her, letting her take the honors.

ahe had popped the bottle with a delighted yelp, the sound of it echoing in the enclosed space. your laughter mingled with hers as she poured the bubbly liquid into two glasses, the bubbles rising like a cascade of stars. yhe glasses clinked softly as you raised them, her eyes sparkling with something akin to joy. “we should leave the boys some, too,” you had said, the words casual as you took a sip, the champagne crisp and cold against your tongue.

tzuyu’s head had snapped up at that, her expression shifting, her eyes searching yours. “the boys?” she echoed, the question hanging in the air between you. there was a pause, a slight hesitation before she continued, “taehyung and jungkook?”

you had nodded, the motion so natural, so obvious to you that you didn’t understand why she even questioned it. “yeah,” you replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “would that be a problem?”

her laugh had been nervous, a sound that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “of course not,” she had answered quickly, almost too quickly, before turning her attention back to the champagne, refilling her glass with a focus that seemed a little too intense. the silence that followed was almost thick, hanging heavy in the air despite the supposed festivities. it was supposed to be a celebratory night, but the atmosphere had shifted, a subtle tension settling between you that hadn’t been there before.

it wasn’t long before the boys arrived, the limo door opening to reveal them stepping inside, their presence altering the dynamic instantly. taehyung slid in first, his eyes taking in the scene with a practiced ease, followed by jungkook, whose demeanor was noticeably subdued. you had immediately reached for him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a gesture that was as much habit as affection. your lips brushed against his cheek in a light kiss, a quiet greeting escaping your lips. “hey, baby.” he had returned the kiss, a brief peck on your cheek, but there was something off about it, a distance in the way he held himself, the way he didn’t say anything. you felt it, that something was missing, the usual warmth, the unspoken connection between you. his silence spoke volumes, filling the space with an unease you couldn’t ignore.

and then your eyes had met taehyung’s, a fleeting moment of eye contact that seemed to last longer than it should have. there was something in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat, an unsettling feeling that settled deep in your stomach. it was in that moment, in the way his eyes held yours, that you felt it—the weight of something unspoken, something just beyond your grasp, lingering in the air like a shadow. the atmosphere of the night had shifted, the joy and excitement tempered by a sense of unease that you couldn’t shake. whatever it was, you knew it had changed everything.

that night, as the champagne and the clamor of the club swirled together in a haze, you had found yourself slipping beyond the edge of reason. the celebratory atmosphere, once vibrant and intoxicating, had transformed into a foggy blur. the alcohol, your unwitting companion, had blurred the lines of your comprehension, rendering everything around you distant and distorted.

taehyung had been the first to notice your inebriated state, his concern barely masked beneath a veneer of casual detachment. the moment he saw you struggling to maintain your balance, his demeanor had shifted, becoming more focused and intent. jungkook and tzuyu, sensing the urgency of the situation, had both nodded in agreement when taehyung had offered to take you home. their willingness to step aside, allowing him to handle the responsibility, was tinged with a mixture of relief and reluctance.

as he guided you out of the limo and into the cool night air, you stumbled beside him, the world around you swaying unpredictably. his hand was steady on your back, offering a semblance of support as you leaned into him, your thoughts spilling out in slurred, incoherent fragments. “they’ve been acting so weird lately,” you had said, your voice thick with the weight of your inebriation. your feet fumbled with each step, nearly tripping over nothing, causing taehyung to steady himself as he guided you forward.

“who?” he had asked, his voice a mixture of concern and curiosity as he tried to keep you upright. “jungkook and tzuyu,” you had managed to articulate, the names coming out in a jumble. you had nearly taken him down with you, but he had managed to regain his footing, his grip on you firm and reassuring.

taehyung had sighed, a hint of bemusement in his tone as he responded, “yeah, they must be on their periods.” his attempt to lighten the situation with a touch of humor did little to quell the storm brewing inside you. you had leaned into his touch, seeking comfort as you stumbled along, his breath catching in his throat at the weight of the situation.

as you reached your building, taehyung had retrieved the keys from your purse, his movements steady despite the chaos around you. he had quietly opened the door and guided you inside, the familiar surroundings offering little solace in your disoriented state. his touch was gentle yet firm, leading you toward your room. when you collapsed onto your bed with a sigh, your hair tousled and makeup smeared, taehyung had settled beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the whirlwind of your emotions. the silence between you had been heavy, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged truths.

“i’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” he had said, his voice breaking the silence with an unexpected vulnerability. his apology hung in the air, charged with an unspoken weight that you struggled to process. you had turned to him, your gaze unfocused yet searching, and asked quietly, “what do you mean?”

he had hesitated, the tension evident in the way he struggled to find the right words. “jungkook, he cheated on you with tzuyu,” he had finally admitted, his voice carrying the gravity of the confession. “it was for his nineteenth birthday, not too long ago. they both got drunk and let it happen.”

the words hit you like a physical blow, the shock of the revelation enough to make your stomach churn. you could hardly process the enormity of what you were hearing. your face remained a blank canvas, a mask of disbelief that hid the turmoil raging within. the shock and betrayal combined with the alcohol had caused you to heave, but you fought to keep your composure, even as a stray tear slipped down your cheek. taehyung had watched you with a look of genuine concern, his own face reflecting the weight of the confession. “are you okay?” he had asked softly, his eyes searching yours for a sign of how you were holding up.

you had nodded, your face still an inscrutable mask of calm. “of course i am,” you had said, your voice carrying a hollow edge. you had wiped the stray tear from your cheek, a gesture of self-reliance born from the realization that, ultimately, no one else would tend to your pain if not you. “i’m my mother’s daughter,” you had continued, the words dripping with a resigned bitterness. “what did i expect?”

the morning after the revelation had dawned on you with an oppressive weight, the remnants of sleep eluding you entirely. you had barely managed a few restless hours in the tangled sheets of your bed, your mind too frantic to find solace. the truth that taehyung had so courageously unveiled the night before replayed relentlessly in your thoughts. despite your own turmoil, you had promised him one thing: you wouldn’t tell a single soul it was he who had delivered the devastating news. he was the only one who had broken the silence, not your childhood boyfriend, not your childhood friend—just taehyung. that sense of betrayal, sharp and unrelenting, needed an outlet, and jungkook was the target.

you dialed his number with a resolve that left no room for hesitation. the message you left was terse and urgent, an unmistakable demand for his presence. the call was made with the singular intent of making him face what he had done. the hangover that should have plagued you was eclipsed by a burning rage that consumed every corner of your being, leaving no room for the dull ache of alcohol.

when jungkook finally arrived, his demeanor was casual, an oblivious ease that contrasted sharply with your seething anger. he knocked softly on the door before stepping in, and there you were, seated in the living room with an air of normalcy that belied the storm raging inside you. your robe was tightly wrapped around you, a newspaper spread over your lap, and a mimosa in your hand. the scene seemed almost serene, save for the smirk playing on your lips, a jarring anomaly in an otherwise composed setting.

jungkook’s gaze swept over you with a hint of confusion, his eyes scanning the room as he stepped inside. “what happened? is everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern that felt out of place given the circumstances. you put the newspaper aside with deliberate calm, taking a leisurely sip of your mimosa. your tone was laced with a blandness that only partially masked the fury beneath. “why wouldn’t it be?” you responded, your voice a veil over the storm raging inside.

his confusion deepened as he took in your demeanor. “you made it sound like an emergency,” he said, his brow furrowing as he tried to reconcile your apparent calm with the urgency of your call. you rose from the couch, every movement purposeful as you approached him. “it is,” you said, your voice cutting through the air like a blade. the room seemed to contract around you, the tension thick and suffocating.

as you neared him, you gave him one last scrutinizing look, taking in the sight of his relaxed, oblivious smile. “i had a question for you,” you said, your voice steady, almost eerily calm. jungkook’s smile remained, a complacent grin that belied his confusion. “sure, babe, what is it?” he asked, the affectionate term coming out as a painful irony.

you looked at him, that smile of his igniting the flames of your anger further. and then, with a sudden, sharp movement, you struck him. the force of your hand colliding with his cheek was enough to silence him, to shock him into the reality of the situation. the impact left a stinging imprint, a physical manifestation of the emotional upheaval you were feeling.

“did you fuck her good?” you demanded, your voice low and cutting.

the words seemed to hang in the air, each syllable weighted with the pain and betrayal you felt. jungkook’s face shifted from shock to realization, his eyes widening as the gravity of your question sank in. his once relaxed demeanor shattered, his hands became frantic as he tried to piece together the situation. “please, listen to me,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “it was a mistake. it was a mistake!”

you mimicked his earlier sweet smile with an icy twist, the gesture as false as it was cruel. “i wouldn’t hear you out even if you kneeled,” you said, each word deliberate and final. “get out, before i call security.”

the command was clear, leaving no room for negotiation or apology. jungkook’s pleas continued, but they fell on deaf ears as you turned away, the finality of your words hanging in the air like a guillotine. the door clicked shut behind him, a sound that resonated with the finality of an ending. in the silence that followed, you were left alone with the remnants of your anger and betrayal. the echoes of his desperate voice faded, leaving you with nothing but the harsh reality of the situation and the unyielding truth that you would face alone.

the weight of your actions had not yet fully settled, but your resolve was unshakable. you moved with a determined grace, the anger fueling your every step. you discarded your robe with an almost clinical precision, the soft fabric slipping from your shoulders as you reached for something more fitting for your mission. the casual dress you chose clung to you with a casual elegance, but it was the leather jacket that completed your ensemble, draped over your shoulders like a mantle of defiance. you needed to make a statement, and every detail of your appearance was a deliberate choice, a symbol of your readiness to confront the chaos head-on.

the drive to tzuyu’s penthouse was swift, your mind focused solely on the confrontation that awaited. when you arrived, you were greeted by her mother, a vision of warmth and hospitality. her bright smile was so unlike the storm brewing within you. “oh, it’s so nice to see you!” she exclaimed, her cheerfulness almost disorienting. “tzuyu didn’t mention you were joining us for breakfast.”

you returned her smile with practiced ease, masking the turbulence beneath. “it’s wonderful to see you, too,” you said, the words coming out with a politeness that barely concealed your intentions. “i actually didn’t come for breakfast, though,” you continued, your tone slipping into a more measured calm. “i don’t have much of an appetite.”

with that, you bypassed her, moving swiftly toward the door that led to tzuyu’s room. you didn’t wait for an invitation or further pleasantries; you entered with purpose, your stride unwavering. tzuyu, sprawled on her bed in a state of groggy confusion, looked up with an expression of surprise that bordered on innocent. “what’s with the surprise visit?” she asked, her eyes wide with an almost childlike curiosity. “did you sober up?”

you smiled, a tight, controlled expression that belied the seething anger just beneath. “i’ve definitely sobered up,” you said, letting the words hang in the air with an edge of finality. “how about you?” she sighed, rubbing her eyes as if to clear the fog of the morning. “i’m still feeling a bit groggy,” she admitted, her voice trailing off into a yawn. her obliviousness was almost unbearable, a contrast to the storm you were about to unleash.

the moment was charged with a palpable tension. you could feel your hand twitching, a physical manifestation of the anger you could no longer contain. before you could second-guess yourself, you allowed your hand to collide with her cheek with a sharp, decisive smack. the sound of the impact reverberated in the room, leaving a stinging silence in its wake. tzuyu’s eyes widened in shock, her face frozen in an expression of disbelief.

“maybe that’ll wake you up,” you said, the words cold and devoid of sympathy. her mouth opened as if to respond, but the ringing of her phone cut her off. both of you turned toward the sound, and the sight of jungkook’s name flashing on the screen seemed to crystallize the realization of what had transpired.

a derisive scoff escaped your lips as you watched her face drain of color, the realization dawning on her with a visceral impact. “i always knew you were a slut,” you said, each word deliberate and cutting. “never took you for a liar, too.”

her composure shattered, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to find words that would never come. the sight of her distress was almost satisfying, but you were beyond caring. you had come to deliver a message, and now that it was sent, you turned on your heel with a resolute finality. you left the room without a backward glance, the confrontation leaving behind a cold, echoing silence. your steps were purposeful as you made your way out, each footfall a reminder that you had not come for breakfast or for pleasantries. the meal you had served was one that was best served cold.

the limo door closed behind you with a soft thud, sealing you in the quiet, dimly lit interior. the rush of adrenaline from the encounter with tzuyu still lingered, but as you settled into the plush leather seat, a different kind of tension began to gnaw at you. your eyes drifted to your hand resting in your lap, the subtle tremor in your fingers drawing your attention. no matter how hard you squeezed your hand into a fist, the twitching refused to cease, a stubborn reminder of the morning’s confrontation.

“will we be going back home, miss?” the driver’s voice broke through your thoughts, his tone polite but indifferent, as though he hadn’t just ferried you from one battlefield to another. you forced yourself to regroup, pushing aside the flicker of doubt that threatened to creep in. “no,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. “there’s one more stop.”

the drive to taehyung’s hotel was brief, the city’s landscape a blur as you wrestled with the unrelenting twitch in your hand. the calm you had worked so hard to maintain was fraying at the edges, and by the time you arrived at the penthouse, the tremor had become a constant, unsettling presence. the door was unlocked when you arrived, a testament to the casual chaos that always seemed to surround taehyung. the minute it swung open, you were greeted by the overpowering musk of weed and cologne, the two scents mingling in a way that was almost nauseating. you stepped inside, barely managing to stifle the scoff that threatened to escape as you took in the familiar scene before you.

two girls emerged from the lit interior, their hair a mess of tangled curls, and their makeup smeared from what must have been a long night. they wore nothing but oversized shirts that you could only assume belonged to taehyung, the hemline barely grazing their thighs. the sneers they shot you were unmistakable, a territorial display that you found almost laughable.

and then, taehyung appeared. his hair was wet, droplets of water clinging to the strands as he emerged from what must have been a shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. you rolled your eyes, too accustomed to his antics to be fazed by the sight. he caught your eye, a smirk playing on his lips as he used a towel to rub his hair dry. “please excuse their lack of manners,” he drawled, the arrogance in his voice palpable. “gangnam girls, what can i say?”

you rolled your eyes again, the gesture becoming almost second nature in his presence. “you’re disgusting,” you retorted, your voice laced with disdain. he laughed, the sound rich and careless, as though your insult had only amused him. “why did you stop by?” he asked, tilting his head in that infuriatingly casual way of his. “did you come by to partake in round two?”

the suggestion was enough to make you scrunch your face up in disgust. “not even in your wildest dreams.” his smirk only widened, and he turned to pour himself a drink, the clink of glass against glass echoing through the penthouse. your eyes followed the movement, landing on the amber liquid as it swirled in the glass. “a little early for a drink, isn’t it?” you asked, unable to keep the note of disapproval from creeping into your voice.

he downed the glass in one go, the smirk never leaving his lips as he shook his head. “never too early for some fun,” he replied, his voice casual. he paused, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink before adding, “i heard you had some fun of your own this morning.” his words took you by surprise, your carefully constructed plan to break the news to him first crumbling in an instant. “how do you know about that?” you demanded, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

taehyung merely shrugged, the movement languid as he refilled his glass. “i could only assume,” he said, his tone nonchalant, “given the missed calls from the ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend.” you stared at him, the surprise flickering across your face. “did you answer any of them?”

he chuckled, the sound low and amused. “i was a bit busy, as you saw.” another eye roll. “you’re awful,” you muttered, turning on your heel, ready to leave the chaos of his penthouse behind. but just as your hand reached for the door, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“i’m opening my club tonight,” he said, the words hanging in the air between you. “aren’t you gonna come and show your support?” you turned back to face him, a scoff escaping your lips. “you’re really investing in a burlesque club?”

he shot you a look, one that was almost serious if it weren’t for the glint of mischief in his eyes. “i thought you knew art better than anyone else.” a sigh slipped past your lips, a mix of exasperation and reluctant acceptance. “fine,” you said, the word heavy with resignation. “i’ll be there.”

as you turned to leave, something caught your eye—a subtle change in taehyung’s expression. the smirk that usually adorned his lips had softened, replaced by something you hadn’t expected. a smile. not a smirk, not a taunt, but a genuine, warm smile. it was fleeting, barely there, but it left a lingering warmth in the room even after you had gone.

you returned home with a heavy weight on your shoulders, the events of the day replaying in your mind like a broken record. the penthouse, the limo, the tremor in your hand—all of it seemed to swirl together in a murky haze of emotions you could barely contain. the opulent surroundings of your home provided little comfort, the luxurious furnishings and sprawling space feeling more like a cage than a sanctuary.

you tried to distract yourself, lounging on the chaise in the living room, your fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on the silk cushions. the house was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that allowed your thoughts to echo louder than they should. but you refused to let your mind wander too far, knowing that if you did, the reality of everything would come crashing down.

and then, the quiet was interrupted by the soft click of heels against marble, a sound you recognized all too well. your mother entered the room, her expression unreadable as she approached you. she had a newspaper clutched in her hands, the edges crinkled from the way she held it, as if she had been gripping it tightly for some time. you looked up, meeting her gaze with a flicker of curiosity. “is everything okay?” you asked, your voice steady, though the knot in your stomach told you otherwise.

“i don’t know,” she replied, her tone careful, measured. she paused, then spread the newspaper open in front of you, laying it on the coffee table with a deliberate slowness that only added to the tension. “you tell me.”

your eyes fell on the display, the bold headline, the accompanying photo. it took a moment for the image to register, for the reality of what you were seeing to sink in. but when it did, it hit you like a freight train. the photograph was unmistakable—jungkook and tzuyu, walking side by side, their hands intertwined as if they belonged together. the smile on his face, the way she leaned into him—it was a picture-perfect moment, captured by a photographer who had been in the right place at the worst possible time.

but it was the headline that truly did you in, the words glaring back at you with a finality that made your stomach churn. an engagement confirmed, jeon jungkook and chou tzuyu set to wed. it was a fatal blow, one that you hadn’t seen coming, one that you hadn’t even known was on the horizon. the engagement—their engagement—was something you hadn’t even heard about until now, and the shock of it made the room tilt around you.

you felt your whole world come crashing down in an instant, the ground shifting beneath your feet. the bile rose in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might actually throw up. but you swallowed it down, refusing to let the nausea take over, even as your heart sank deeper into the pit of despair. your mother noticed your distress, her expression softening as she took in your reaction. she was the only one who could see through the mask you wore, the only one who knew just how deep this wound cut. “so it really is true, is it?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost tentative.

you could only muster up the energy to nod, the motion slow, as if the act of agreeing took more out of you than you had to give. she crumpled the newspaper in her hands, the sound of the paper crunching under her grip filling the room before she tossed it to the ground. the gesture was full of a frustration she didn’t voice, a rage she didn’t let surface.

she approached you, her movements cautious, as if afraid you might break if she got too close. lneeling beside you, she searched your face for tears, but found none. you hadn’t cried, not a single tear, because the pain was too deep, too raw to manifest in something as simple as crying. but she didn’t need to see your tears to know you were hurting. she had always known, perhaps even before you did.

“i’m so proud of you,” she began, her voice soft, filled with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. she reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a gentleness that only made it harder to breathe. “i’m so proud of you for handling it like this.”

you met her gaze for a moment, your eyes locking with hers. but the sharpness in your tone betrayed the anger simmering beneath the surface. “why? because i didn’t handle it the way you did?”

the hurt that flashed across her face was immediate, a brief flicker of pain that she couldn’t hide. but you didn’t care. no matter how bad she felt, no matter how much she hurt, she had to deal with the consequences of her own actions. you weren’t responsible for her pain, not now, not ever. “i would never give second chances,” you continued, your voice cold, detached. “let alone abandon my daughter to give a million more of them.”

she had no words, nothing to say that could make up for the past. because she knew you were right. she knew that no matter how much she wanted to mend the rift between you, no matter how desperately she tried, the mistakes she had made would always be there, a shadow that hung over your relationship like a storm cloud. so when you stood up, she didn’t stop you. she didn’t reach out, didn’t call after you, because she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. the silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid, the things that would never be said because the damage had been done long ago.

as you left the room, all you could tell yourself was that she had her chance. when it should have been you, it was your father. when it should have been you, it was the man who had cheated on her, the man she had chosen over you. and now, the choices she had made so long ago were coming back to haunt her, just as they were coming back to haunt you. but you wouldn’t let them define you. you wouldn’t let her mistakes dictate your life. because you were stronger than that. and no matter how much it hurt, no matter how deep the wound, you would heal. even if it took everything you had.

you spent the evening preparing for taehyung’s club opening with meticulous care. your makeup was flawless, each stroke and blend designed to enhance your natural features while exuding confidence. you opted for a dress that struck the perfect balance between understated elegance and bold sophistication—a midnight blue gown that hugged your figure in all the right places, with a slit that hinted at just enough leg. your choice of jewelry was deliberate: a pair of sapphire earrings and a delicate silver bracelet that added a touch of sparkle without overwhelming your look. every detail was intended to make a statement of support, a way of showing that despite everything, you stood with taehyung.

as you adjusted the final strands of your hair and examined your reflection, you felt a pang of resolve mixed with unease. taehyung had been a steadfast ally, someone who had stepped up when others had not. you might not have known him as long or as intimately as you did jungkook or tzuyu, but his loyalty and support had earned your respect. you were determined to return the favor, even if it was under these difficult circumstances.

your chauffer arrived promptly, a sympathetic look in his eyes that betrayed his knowledge of the day's earlier events. you offered him a polite smile, appreciating the gesture even as you sensed the pity behind it. it seemed everyone had seen the news, and while some might have been hoping to witness your downfall, you refused to let their expectations dictate your actions. you had no need for their pity; you were here for taehyung, and that was all that mattered.

upon arriving at the club, the driver gave you a fleeting compliment on your appearance, his words tinged with transparent affection. you acknowledged it with a practiced smile and a courteous thank you before turning to face the club’s entrance. the twitching in your hand persisted, an incessant reminder of the chaos that had unfolded earlier. you gripped your fingers tightly, trying to steady the unsettling tremor, but it only seemed to intensify as you approached the bouncer and announced your name.

inside, the club dazzled with its blue lighting, casting a cool, ethereal glow over the crowd. the music was upbeat, familiar, a soundtrack that seemed both comforting and alien amidst the night’s emotional turmoil. the air was rich with the mingling scents of high-end alcohol and the faint trace of a sophisticated, floral aroma. despite the beauty of the setting, your nerves remained on edge. the club was undoubtedly a reflection of taehyung’s tastes, a testament to his style and ambition, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to you.

just as you began to lose yourself in the ambiance, a new sound caught your attention. the gruffness of a man’s voice, unmistakably agitated, drew you toward a nearby hallway. as you approached cautiously, you caught sight of taehyung and his father engaged in a heated conversation near the entrance to the bathrooms. taehyung’s expression was a mixture of sorrow and frustration, while his father’s face was etched with anger and disappointment.

you pressed yourself against the wall, straining to hear their conversation while remaining unobtrusive. the words that drifted toward you were sharp and cutting. “this is why you’ll never be good enough. is this what you plan on doing for the rest of your life? investing in women and alcohol?” the harshness in his father’s voice was evident, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

taehyung’s response was a desperate plea. “it isn’t like that. don’t you see how many people are here? they came to support me. it’s not about the money or the women.”

his father’s reaction was dismissive, a scoff escaping his lips. “your mother would be disappointed.”

the statement hung heavy in the air, a final, damning indictment that seemed to crush taehyung’s spirit. you could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of his father’s words. goosebumps broke out on your skin as you watched the scene unfold, the pain and conflict evident in taehyung’s face. the confrontation seemed to end abruptly as his father turned away, leaving him standing alone with his hurt and frustration.

you remained frozen in place, your gaze fixated on the scene that had just unfolded. the discord between taehyung and his father had left you feeling unsettled, and you were still processing the weight of their conversation. when he finally turned around and met your eyes, his expression softened slightly, though the hurt remained etched into his features. he approached you with a wry smile, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and reproach. “eavesdropping isn’t very eloquent of you, now is it?”

you felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, and you shook your head, flustered. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to intrude.” his eyes searched yours, gauging the truth of your apology. “how much did you hear?” he asked.

you hesitated for a moment before responding. “not much,” you lied, though you knew he could see right through you. despite this, he chose not to press further, an unspoken understanding passing between you. determined to ease his pain, even just a little, you offered a genuine compliment. “the club is amazing. you did a great job, taehyung. i’m really proud of you, and you should be too.”

he scoffed lightly, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “i thought you of all people would know how i feel about pity.” you walked with him, taking in the luxurious surroundings of the club as you spoke. “i pity no one,” you said, your gaze sweeping over the elegant décor. “i just have a good eye.”

he chuckled softly and gestured toward a nearby velvet sofa. “let’s see just how good your eye is.”

you took a seat beside him, the plush cushions enveloping you in comfort. the club’s ambiance was sophisticated and chic, a far cry from the rowdy, overtly provocative establishments you had anticipated. the women around you were dressed in stylish, modest attire, their elegance a testament to taehyung’s taste and vision. as you sipped from your glass, you felt the familiar twitch in your hand returning, an involuntary reaction to the stress and turmoil of the day. you tried to ignore it, but taehyung’s perceptive gaze noticed your discomfort.

“what’s with your hand?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. you shook your head, attempting to dismiss it. “it’s been doing that all day.”

before you could raise your glass for another sip, taehyung reached over and gently took your hand in his. his touch was unexpectedly warm, and you felt a jolt of surprise as he placed his hand over yours, effectively stilling the trembling. “what are you doing?” you asked, taken aback by his unexpected gesture.

he ignored your question, instead focusing on the sensation of your hand beneath his. With a gentle squeeze, he seemed to transfer some of his warmth to you. “it’s freezing,” he remarked. “no wonder you’re shaking.”

the simple act of his hand over yours had an immediate effect; your hand ceased its tremor, the warmth and reassurance from his touch proving to be surprisingly calming. you looked at him, astonished by the unexpected relief. he let go of your hand, and you noticed with a mix of wonder and gratitude that the twitching had completely stopped. his thoughtful gesture had provided more comfort than you had anticipated, and you felt a deep sense of appreciation for his quiet support.

as you and taehyung settled into the plush velvet sofa, the atmosphere of the club enveloped you. the stage, bathed in a rich, ambient light, was now the focal point of the room. the performers, a group of women dressed in matching, sleek outfits, took their positions. their attire was a harmonious blend of black and gold, each piece meticulously chosen to accentuate their grace and elegance. the room fell silent in anticipation, and the low, sultry beats of the music began to pulse through the air.

the dancers moved as one, their synchronized steps creating a mesmerizing rhythm that captivated the audience. the choreography was a seamless blend of fluid motions and sharp accents, each gesture exuding confidence and allure. their bodies swayed and undulated with practiced precision, creating a visual symphony of movement that held the crowd in rapt attention.

the dance routine was both graceful and provocative, designed to showcase their athleticism and artistry. their movements were precise yet fluid, their expressions a mix of allure and control. as they twirled and moved, the lighting cast dramatic shadows that emphasized every curve and line, adding to the seductive ambiance of the performance.

you glanced at taehyung, noting the way his eyes followed the dancers with admiration. his smirk was barely contained as he observed their performance, but when he noticed your gaze, he tilted his head slightly, acknowledging your silent praise. “good dancers, aren’t they?” he asked, his voice low and filled with an undertone of challenge. you nodded, still watching the stage. “you’ve outdone yourself this time,” you said, genuinely impressed by the display.

his smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “but i think i’d rather see you up there,” he said, his tone light but carrying an edge of challenge. you turned back to him with a roll of your eyes. “you’re despicable,” you replied, your voice tinged with both amusement and defiance.

he chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “i know you’d never, don’t worry,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. the challenge in his words sparked something within you. your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and determination. “you really think i wouldn’t?” you asked, your tone daring.

taehyung leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “enlighten me.”

with a resolute nod, you felt the warmth of the alcohol dulling your nerves, giving you the courage to accept the challenge. you stood up, feeling the eyes of the room upon you as you made your way to the stage. the sudden shift in energy was intense, and you could sense the anticipation building. the stage was bathed in a soft spotlight as you stepped into the center, the audience’s eyes fixed on you. the music, a slow, seductive melody with a steady beat, filled the space around you. you took a deep breath and began to move, each step deliberate and measured, yet brimming with sensuality.

your dance was a blend of sultry elegance and bold confidence. you began with a slow, sinuous sway of your hips, your movements flowing seamlessly with the rhythm of the music. your hands glided through the air, tracing invisible patterns as you twirled and spun with a grace that drew the audience’s gaze. the fabric of your dress clung to your curves, accentuating every motion and adding to the overall allure of your performance. as you continued, you incorporated a series of fluid, seductive movements, your body articulating each beat with precision. your gaze remained locked on taehyung, whose eyes were fixed intently on you. his expression was a mix of surprise and admiration, his smirk replaced by a look of genuine interest.

you made use of the entire stage, your movements becoming increasingly bold and expressive. the lighting shifted to highlight your figure, casting dramatic shadows that played across the floor. the audience’s reaction was one of awe, their murmurs and gasps a testament to the impact of your performance. taehyung’s gaze never wavered as he watched you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and intrigue. the intensity of his stare only fueled your confidence, and you poured every ounce of emotion into the dance.

you weren’t sure when exactly it had happened. one moment, you were basking in the afterglow of your performance, the applause still ringing in your ears, and taehyung’s unwavering gaze was locked onto yours. the next, the world around you blurred into a hazy swirl of emotions and sensations. you were vaguely aware of the transition—of leaving the club, of the distant sound of music and chatter fading away—but the details were a disjointed blur, unimportant in the grand scheme of what was unfolding.

the next clear memory was the sudden jolt as your back hit the plush leather seat of the limo. taehyung’s hand, warm and firm, cupped the back of your head, guiding it gently to soften the impact. his touch was both tender and commanding, a subtle yet unmistakable assertion of his control over the moment. the rush of air, mingled with the lingering scent of his cologne and the intoxicating aroma of the night, created an atmosphere thick with unspoken desires.

as your eyes met his, he closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours with a fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. the kiss was a potent mix of passion and urgency, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own. the warmth of his breath, the slight pressure of his lips, and the way his fingers gripped your hair created a cocoon of sensation that drowned out everything else.

he broke the kiss briefly, his eyes still locked on yours, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the whirlwind of emotions. “i think it’s my turn to say you’ve outdone yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and laden with a sultry confidence. before you could fully process his words, he closed the distance again, pressing his lips to yours with renewed intensity. the limo’s interior, dimly lit and private, became a haven for your shared moment. the air inside was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, his cologne, and the faint traces of sweat from the evening. the mingling of these aromas, combined with the intimate setting, only heightened the electric tension between you.

as your nails clawed at his suit, desperate to feel the warmth of his body against yours, you were acutely aware of the recklessness of the situation. there was a part of you that knew, in the back of your mind, that this was a moment you might come to regret come morning. the clarity of dawn would bring with it the weight of consequences, the knowledge of what you had done. but right then, under the weight of his embrace and the intoxicating blend of alcohol and desire, those thoughts seemed distant, almost irrelevant.

taehyung’s hand slid down from your hair to your chest, his thumb brushing against the swell of your breast. your breath hitched as he squeezed gently, his eyes darkening with hunger. “you’re full of surprises tonight,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. his other hand found its way to your thigh, slowly sliding up under your dress, the fabric parting like water around his fingers. your heart raced as he reached the apex of your thighs, his touch setting your skin alight.

his fingers danced around the edge of your panties, teasing, before dipping beneath the fabric. you gasped as he touched you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. “i knew,” he murmured, a smug smile playing on his lips. “i knew you wanted this as much as i do.” his voice was a seductive purr, his words a mix of praise and degradation that sent a thrill through your body. despite the vulgarity, you found yourself craving more, the need to hear him say those dirty things growing stronger with each passing second.

his hand continued to explore, his thumb now circling your clit with a maddening slowness. your hips bucked against his touch, urging him on. you could feel his erection pressing against your leg, a silent display of his own arousal. with a growl, he pushed aside the last barrier of fabric, his fingers plunging into you with a fierce urgency that stole the breath from your lungs. “fuck, tae—” you moaned, your voice a hoarse whisper that seemed to echo in the enclosed space of the limo. he smirked, his eyes never leaving yours as he worked his fingers in and out of you, your juices coating his hand.

his thumb remained a constant pressure point, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of release. you threw your head back, lost in the sensation, as he leaned in to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. the mix of pleasure and pain sent you spiraling, your body tensing and then releasing in a powerful orgasm. taehyung’s chuckle of satisfaction vibrated against your skin, his grip on your hair tightening as he claimed your mouth once more. your thoughts were a jumbled mess, but one thing was clear: this was the best sex you’d ever had. and for a brief, shining moment, jungkook was nothing but a distant memory.

you reached down to free his cock from the confines of his pants, your hand wrapping around his thick, velvety length. he hissed in a sharp breath, his eyes closing briefly as you stroked him, the tip already slick with precum. the sensation of his pulse in your palm was intoxicating, a silent promise of the pleasure yet to come. “you’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark, seductive whisper in your ear. “every inch of me, until you can’t walk straight tomorrow. until jungkook is nothing but a pathetic little worm in your memory.”

his words sent a thrill of excitement through you, a heady mix of anger and lust that only served to fuel your desire. you nodded, a silent agreement, as he pushed your panties aside and positioned himself at your entrance. without warning, he slammed into you, filling you to the brim. the suddenness of it took your breath away, your eyes wide with shock and pleasure.

his hips moved in a steady, powerful rhythm, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper. your nails dug into his back as you tried to anchor yourself, the pleasure building with each movement. his hand found your breast, playing with the nipple as he pounded into you, the sting of pain from your tight grip on his shoulders only adding to the symphony of sensations.

his mouth found yours again, his tongue demanding entry, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. your bodies were slick with sweat, the leather of the seat sticking to your skin as you moved together. the air was thick with the sound of your ragged breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin. it was raw, it was animalistic, and it was everything you never knew you needed.

his thrusts grew harder, more urgent, his breathing ragged. “you’re so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me,” he groaned, his voice a desperate growl. “you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard, aren’t you?”

you could only nod, the words lost in the intensity of the moment. as he sped up, you felt yourself climbing towards another peak, the pressure building like a crescendo in your core. when you finally shattered again, it was with a scream that was muffled by his mouth, his own release following swiftly after.

in the aftermath, you lay there, your heart racing, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. taehyung’s weight was a comforting presence, his chest rising and falling heavily against your own. you didn’t know what the morning would bring, but in that moment, all you knew was that you had claimed your victory over jungkook, and it was a victory that had left you feeling more alive than ever before.

when you woke up the next morning, the throbbing in your head was the first sensation that greeted you. the remnants of a night spent in hazy indulgence seemed to have manifested in the dull ache that now pervaded your temples. as you slowly gathered yourself from the tangle of sheets, you became acutely aware of the soreness in your thighs and the general discomfort that seemed to have settled in every joint of your body. the remnants of your encounter with taehyung from the night before were all too vivid, despite the haze of alcohol and heartbreak that had enveloped the evening.

the memories of what had transpired, the reckless abandon in the limo, felt like a crushing weight on your chest. you tried to push them aside, focusing instead on dressing yourself and stepping out the door as if nothing had changed. however, despite your efforts to maintain a facade of normalcy, the gnawing embarrassment at what had happened lingered in the back of your mind.

as you walked down the quiet streets, your pace quickened, an unconscious reaction to your heightened sense of anxiety. the sharp screech of tires sliced through the morning calm, making you turn abruptly. To your dismay, a familiar limo pulled up beside you, its sleek black surface reflecting the bright morning light. the window rolled down, revealing taehyung’s smirk.

“need a ride?” he asked, his tone teasing. “or was last night enough?” you scoffed, the sound sharp in the stillness of the street. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, attempting to walk away with as much dignity as you could muster. however, the limo kept pace with you, taehyung’s voice drifting out the open window.

“how about you come in, and i’ll enlighten you?” his words were laced with a mix of amusement and challenge. “no need. one disappointment is enough,” you shot back, frustration edging your voice. you were relieved when the limo finally turned around and drove off, your body tensing as you continued your walk.

but your respite was short-lived. as you rounded a corner, your heart sank at the sight of jungkook and tzuyu standing just a few feet away. they were intertwined, their hands clasped together, looking equally flustered and frozen in the moment. the silence between you all was deafening, each person seemingly waiting for the other to speak, yet no one moved.

just when you were about to speak, a familiar arm slid around your shoulders. you turned to find taehyung beside you, his focus unwaveringly fixed on jungkook and tzuyu. you tensed, feeling the weight of his arm as he drew you closer, and despite your discomfort, you couldn’t help but notice how taehyung's gaze remained defiant, almost mocking.

“it’s funny seeing you two here,” he said, his voice carrying a note of casual detachment. “you two look like escorts.” you fought back a laugh, surprised by the sudden shift in tension. tzuyu’s response was a scoff, her voice edged with annoyance. “you’re not funny, taehyung.”

he shrugged nonchalantly. “i wasn’t trying to be.” jungkook’s eyes were a mix of anger and hurt as he glanced from taehyung’s arm around you to your own stiff posture. “what are you two doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

you tilted your head, a trace of exasperation in your tone. “how is that any of your business?” taehyung patted your shoulder, a gesture that seemed almost patronizing. “don’t worry, he has a right to know,” he said before addressing jungkook again. “we were about to leave for brunch.”

the words seemed to hit jungkook harder than you’d expected. his expression softened, a fleeting look of hurt crossing his face. “that’s a funny coincidence. we were about to go too.” taehyung’s chuckle lacked any real amusement. “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, then turned back to you. “we should all go together.” your head whipped around to him, eyes wide with disbelief. before you could protest further, jungkook had already agreed. the situation had spiraled out of your control, leaving you caught in a tangled web of the things you hated most in the world.

the restaurant was an elegant blend of sophistication and comfort, with plush velvet seating and softly glowing chandeliers that cast a warm, inviting light over the room. you were seated beside taehyung, who exuded a relaxed confidence that contrasted starkly with the tension you felt. jungkook and tzuyu were across from you, their expressions a mix of discomfort and guardedness.

you tried to focus on the menu, but the trembling in your hand betrayed your inner turmoil. to your surprise, taehyung noticed. his hand slipped over yours, his touch firm yet reassuring. the moment his fingers enveloped yours, the shaking ceased. the sudden calm was almost unnerving, but you tried to ignore it, instead fixing your gaze on the champagne bottle that the waitress had just placed in an ice bucket on the table.

jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange between you and him. his fingers clenched into a fist, the muscles in his jaw tightening. tzuyu shot him a concerned glance but remained silent. the atmosphere was thick with unspoken words and simmering emotions.

taehyung broke the uneasy silence, his voice carrying a note of playful reproach. “i was so disappointed when you two didn’t show up to my opening last night,” he said, his smirk widening as he turned to you. “you missed quite the show.”

your gaze hardened, a flash of irritation crossing your face. qithout thinking, you kicked taehyung’s shin with your heel. he let out a yelp, drawing a sharp look from jungkook and tzuyu. they exchanged glances but chose not to comment. instead, tzuyu responded with a curt tone. “we were a bit busy last night.”

you took a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles dance on your tongue as you maintained a steady gaze on tzuyu. “i’m sure you were,” you said, pausing for effect before adding, “how’s your cheek?”

her silence spoke volumes. she couldn’t meet your gaze, and you caught a glimpse of taehyung’s smirk from the corner of your eye. his amusement was obvious, but you forced yourself to stay focused. jungkook, clearly frustrated, asked, “do you always have to be so hostile?”

you finished your glass with a deliberate motion and turned to him. “try not to talk too much,” you said, your voice cool. “your cheek still must be sore.” tzuyu rolled her eyes, her tone laced with irritation. “his cheek is just fine, no thanks to you.”

you offered a condescending smile and took the champagne bottle, pouring yourself another glass. the liquid swirled within the glass as you swished it lightly. “careful, princess,” you said with a hint of mockery, “a dangerous thing to say with a last season valentino on.” you gestured toward her dress, noting the slight discomfort it caused her.

she fell silent, her expression tightening. taehyung’s hand moved to your thigh, his touch startling you. it was a jolt that snapped you into a heightened awareness of the situation. he leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “play nice.”

you took a deep breath, struggling to maintain a semblance of composure. every word, every gesture felt like an excruciating exercise in restraint. the effort was draining, but taehyung’s hand on your thigh provided a strange comfort. each time your hand started to tremble, he was there, his grip steady and calming. the trembling would cease, leaving you with a paradox of relief and frustration.

despite your best efforts, the undercurrent of conflict remained. every forced smile and polite exchange felt like a compromise of your true feelings. you were acutely aware of the intricate dance you were performing, trying to keep the peace while your emotions simmered just beneath the surface. but with each tremor of your hand and each reassuring touch from him, you struggled to maintain your fragile equilibrium, knowing that beneath the veneer of civility, everything was unraveling.

you were ready to leave, your patience worn thin by the tension and the forced pleasantries. the evening had drained you in more ways than one, and all you wanted was the solace of solitude. as you stood to go, taehyung’s voice cut through the air, calm yet insistent. “it’s a long drive. i’ll take you.” you scoffed, shaking your head as you reached for your bag. “my legs work just fine, taehyung.”

but he didn’t listen. before you could protest further, he had already grabbed your arm, gently but firmly pulling you towards the exit. you tried to resist, but he was unyielding, guiding you out of the restaurant and into the waiting limo. the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing you inside with him, the tension from the dinner still thick in the air.

the drive was stiflingly awkward, the silence between you a heavy reminder of the mistake you had made the night before. the plush leather seats, the tinted windows, the soft hum of the engine—it all felt like an extension of the regret that gnawed at you, a physical manifestation of the night you wished you could forget. taehyung’s voice broke the silence, his words heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. “you regret it, don’t you?”

you couldn’t find the words to respond. instead, you turned your head to the window, watching the city lights blur past. the weight of his question hung in the air, and though you couldn’t bring yourself to answer, the silence that followed was answer enough. you could feel his gaze on you, the quiet pain it caused him evident in the way he shifted slightly in his seat. it was a silent, unspoken ache that settled in your chest, but you forced yourself to ignore it.

the drive seemed to stretch on, the minutes dragging like hours. you glanced at your phone, frowning as you noticed the time. “we should’ve been home by now,” you remarked, your voice tinged with suspicion. taehyung shook his head, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “i have to stop somewhere first.” you wanted to ask where, but the weariness in his tone kept you silent. instead, you leaned back into the seat, resigned to wherever he was taking you.

after what felt like an eternity, the limo finally came to a halt. taehyung was the first to exit, and you followed, confusion knitting your brows as you noticed the plastic bag of flowers he carried in his hand. the air was cool, a slight breeze ruffling your hair as you looked around, taking in the sight of the park that stretched out before you. but it wasn’t the park that caught your attention—it was the memorial center adjacent to it.

you trailed after him, your confusion deepening with every step. he walked with purpose, his steps steady and deliberate, until he came to a stop in front of a grave. you stood beside him, your gaze dropping to the headstone as he crouched down, carefully placing the flowers at its base. the name engraved in stone caught your eye, kim jeongsook, a loving daughter, wife, and mother.

your breath hitched as understanding dawned, your heart clenching with an ache that mirrored taehyung’s. he remained crouched, his hands pressed together, eyes closed in a silent prayer. the vulnerability in his posture, the raw emotion etched in his features—it was a side of him you had never seen before. “is this your mother?” you asked quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

he opened his eyes and nodded, the movement almost imperceptible. the softness in his gaze, the fragility in the way he looked at you—it broke something inside of you. you knelt beside him, your fingers reaching out to adjust the flowers he had placed, centering them with care. the silence was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was a shared moment of understanding, of unspoken grief and quiet solace.

“she’s beautiful,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. taehyung looked at you then, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “she was,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

you held his gaze, the weight of the moment settling over you both. in the quiet of the cemetery, surrounded by the stillness of the say, there was no need for words. the air was charged with unspoken feelings, a connection forged in the shared silence as you both mourned the woman who had given him life.

the drive back home was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy with tension but rather a mutual understanding, a shared exhaustion. the earlier conversation had stripped away the usual banter between you and taehyung, leaving behind something raw and unspoken. he hadn’t said much after the visit to his mother’s grave, and you hadn’t pressed him. some things were better left undisturbed.

as the limo pulled up in front of your apartment complex, you turned to him, offering him a small, appreciative smile. “thanks for the ride, taehyung.” he nodded, the movement slow and deliberate, as if he had a lot on his mind. his eyes, usually so bright and full of mischief, were shadowed with something deeper—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. there was a heaviness in the way he looked at you, a weight in the air between you that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

you lingered for a moment, feeling as though there was something you should say, something that might lift the gloom that hung over him. but the words didn’t come. instead, you stepped out of the limo, the door closing softly behind you with a finality that echoed in the quiet night. as you walked into your complex, the familiar sight of the lobby greeted you, its warmth and comfort doing little to ease the tension knotted in your chest. you were almost to the elevator when the lady at the front desk called your name.

“miss (l/n)!” you turned to face her, noting the envelope in her hand. she held it out to you with a polite smile. “this came for you.”

you took the envelope from her, murmuring a quick thanks before turning away. it was an ordinary envelope, plain white with your name scrawled in a neat, practiced hand. but there was something about it, something that made your heart stutter in your chest, your fingers tremble as they brushed over the paper. you wished you hadn’t looked at it, wished you hadn’t seen the sender’s name neatly written in the corner. but the minute you did, it felt like your world ended all over again. a wedding invitation.

your fingers tightened around the envelope as you took in the names on the card—jungkook and tzuyu. the date was for tomorrow, just a day away. your breath caught in your throat as the realization hit you like a freight train. how long had they been planning this? how many months, or even years, had they been conspiring behind your back?

your world fell silent, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out everything else. it was as if the ground had been ripped out from under you, leaving you weightless and untethered, flailing in a void of disbelief and betrayal. your legs felt heavy, leaden, as you walked to your apartment. each step was an effort, each breath a struggle. by the time you reached your door, your fingers were numb as they fumbled with the key. the door creaked open, revealing the emptiness of your home, a reflection of the hollow ache in your chest.

you stepped inside, the silence of the room pressing down on you, suffocating in its stillness. your maid appeared from the hallway, her usual cheerful demeanor subdued as she noticed the expression on your face. “where’s my mother?” you asked, your voice flat, emotionless.

she hesitated, offering you a sad, almost sympathetic smile. “she left,” she said softly, the words lingering in the air before she added, “again.”

the finality of that word settled in your bones, the realization that you were truly alone sinking deep. you stood there, rooted to the spot, the wedding invitation clutched tightly in your hand as the emptiness of the room mirrored the void within you. all at once, the weight of the day crashed down on you, the betrayal, the loneliness, the heartbreak. you let the envelope slip from your fingers, watching it flutter to the floor as you stood in the silence, the walls of your world closing in around you.

the walls of your room seemed to close in around you, their familiar corners and edges transformed into suffocating reminders that everyone, in the end, leaves. the emptiness inside you mirrored the hollow space in the room, an echo of the losses that had piled up over time. every piece of furniture, every picture on the wall, felt like a ghost of a memory, haunting you with the truth you had tried so hard to escape. you couldn’t stand it anymore—the feeling of everything crashing down on you, the weight of it all pressing you into the ground until you couldn’t breathe.

you needed to go somewhere, anywhere, but there was nowhere that felt safe, nowhere that didn’t remind you of the people who had walked out of your life. the walls were closing in, and you couldn’t stay. with a desperate need to escape, you rushed out the door, letting your legs carry you without direction. the building’s corridors blurred as you sprinted through them, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing with thoughts too chaotic to grasp.

the sky had opened up, and the rain was falling in torrents, but you didn’t care. the cold droplets pelted your skin, drenching you to the bone, but you kept running. the water soaked through your clothes, plastering them to your skin, but still, you didn’t stop. your feet pounded the pavement, splashing through puddles, the rain mingling with the tears that streamed down your face, but you didn’t care. you ran until your breath burned in your lungs, until the world around you was nothing but a blur of gray and cold. you ran until you reached the only place that felt like it might offer some solace, the only place you knew to go.

taehyung’s hotel loomed in front of you, its grand entrance a stark contrast to the storm raging outside. you stumbled through the doors, oblivious to the stares of the patrons who watched you, a soaking, disheveled figure who had burst into their calm, orderly world. but their judgment didn’t matter. nothing mattered except getting to him.

you headed straight for the elevator, your steps unsteady but determined. your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a chaotic storm that didn’t stop until the elevator doors slid open on his floor. you stepped out, and suddenly, you couldn’t move. because there he was, standing right in front of you, as if he had been waiting for you all along.

his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw the sympathy etched in his features as he took in your drenched appearance. there was no judgment in his gaze, only concern, and something deeper—something that made the tears well up in your eyes all over again.

your hand trembled as you raised it, the crumpled wedding invitation clutched in your fingers. “this and my mom,” you began, your voice breaking, “she just, she left and i—” the words failed you, your throat constricting as the weight of everything pressed down on you once more.

but before you could fall apart completely, taehyung was there, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides. to your surprise, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. his suit was immaculate, but he didn’t care as the rain from your clothes soaked into it. he just held you, his warmth seeping into your frozen body, his arms a barrier against the storm both inside and out.

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. the tears came in a rush, followed by gut-wrenching sobs that shook your entire body. you cried into his chest, clutching at his suit as if it were the only thing anchoring you to this world. all the pain, all the hurt that had built up inside you, came pouring out in waves that you couldn’t control. his arms tightened around you, his hand smoothing over your hair in a comforting gesture as he held you close. of all the things he had seen and expected of you, this was the last of them all.

taehyung guided you down the hallway with a steady hand on the small of your back, his touch gentle but insistent, as if he knew that you needed the support to keep moving forward. his silence was a comfort, a balm to the rawness inside you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his presence, drawing strength from the warmth of his body beside you. the world outside was still a blur of rain and shadows, but here, in this narrow space, it was just the two of you, and that was enough.

when you reached his door, he paused, glancing at you as if to make sure you were still with him. then he unlocked it, the click of the key in the lock loud in the quiet hallway. the door swung open, and you stepped inside, expecting the same warmth you’d found in his arms, the same comfort you’d desperately sought in your flight from the cold. but that warmth vanished the moment you saw her.

she was disheveled, her hair a tangled mess and her clothes—or lack thereof—a stark reminder of what taehyung’s life was like outside of the moments he spent with you. she was wearing one of his shirts, the fabric hanging loosely off her shoulders, and she was gathering her things with a hurried, almost guilty air. you didn’t know her, not personally at least, but it didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. she didn’t sneer at you or glare as she might have in some cruel twist of fate. she just slipped past you both, her eyes downcast as if she didn’t want to meet your gaze. she was gone as quickly as she appeared, but you remained frozen, your eyes glued to the spot where she had stood, her presence lingering like an unwanted ghost.

you didn’t know what to feel. should you be angry? hurt? disappointed? what were you supposed to expect from him? after all, you weren’t his girlfriend, and he wasn’t your boyfriend. there was no label, no commitment, nothing to give you the right to feel anything at all. but you did, and it hurt. taehyung noticed the way you stared at the empty space, his own expression faltering as he tried to gauge what you were thinking. he stepped closer, his voice softer than usual as he asked, “you aren’t mad, are you?”

you forced yourself to look at him, to meet his eyes even though it felt like shards of glass were digging into your heart. then you mustered one of your smiles, the kind that never quite reached your eyes, the kind that was more for his benefit than yours. the shift in your demeanor seemed to shock him, his brows knitting together in confusion. “why would i be mad?” you replied, your voice light and airy, as if the sight of another woman leaving his room hadn’t just shattered something deep inside you. you turned and handed him the drenched wedding invitation, the paper crumpled and ruined by the rain but still legible. It was a tangible reminder of the life you were supposed to have, the life that had been ripped away from you.

you walked around the room, your gaze flitting over the furniture, the decorations, anything to avoid looking at him. “you’re free to do collect as many diseases as you please,” you added, the words slipping from your lips with a hint of bitterness that you couldn’t quite suppress. he scoffed, a sound of disbelief that cut through the thick air between you. “i liked you better when you were crying,” he muttered, his tone defensive, almost wounded.

but you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. instead, you let the weight of everything you’d seen, everything you’d felt, sink deep into your bones, and for once, you allowed yourself to acknowledge the truth. you weren’t mad because you had no right to be. but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. and that didn’t mean you wouldn’t remember this moment, the moment when everything you thought you could rely on came crashing down around you once again.

changing in his bedroom felt like stepping into another world, one that was as foreign as it was unnerving. the room was dimly lit, the shadows long and dark, and everything carried his scent—a mix of expensive cologne, faint traces of smoke, and something uniquely him. you felt a strange sense of vulnerability as you rummaged through his closet, searching for something to wear. when your fingers brushed against one of his shirts, a simple white button-down that was far too large for you, you hesitated. it felt surreal, putting it on, almost degrading, knowing how many women had done the same. but unlike them, you had no choice. all your belongings were back home, in a place you couldn’t bear to return to, so you had to make do with what you had.

as you slipped into the shirt, the fabric cool against your skin, you couldn’t shake the discomfort that gnawed at you. it was as if the shirt was a reminder of how little you belonged here, of how temporary this moment was. the sleeves were too long, the hem hanging down to your thighs, but it was better than staying in your rain-soaked clothes. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and the sight made you pause. there you were, standing in taehyung’s bedroom, wearing his shirt, looking every bit the part of someone who had been broken down by life’s cruelty.

you sighed, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you, and stepped out into the living room. the first thing you noticed was the faint scent of smoke, followed by the sight of taehyung lounging on the couch, a joint between his lips. the soft glow of the lighter flickered against his face as he took a drag, his eyes half-lidded with the calm that only the drugs could bring.

you scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “you’re no different from a crack addict,” you muttered, your tone laced with disdain.

he looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he was taken aback. not by your words, but by the sight of you in his shirt. there was something in his gaze, something raw and unguarded, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. it wasn’t lust, not exactly. it was more like wonder, like the sight of you had caught him off guard in the best way possible.

to his surprise, you walked over to the couch and plopped down beside him, close enough that your legs brushed against his. without a word, you snatched the joint from his fingers and took a drag of your own. the smoke burned as it filled your lungs, but it was a welcome distraction, a numbing agent to the chaos inside your head. taehyung chuckled to himself, the sound low and warm. “why’d you come all the way here?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

you exhaled, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling, and passed the joint back to him. “i assume you saw the invitation,” you said, your tone flat. he nodded, taking another drag before answering. “i got one of my own,” he admitted, pausing as if debating whether to say more. “jungkook even drew a smiley face on mine.”

you scoffed, the sound bitter. “are you touched?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. he feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. “truly,” he replied, his tone matching yours.

a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faltered as the weight of everything crashed down on you once again. “mom left again,” you said, the words heavy, as if each one cost you a piece of yourself. taehyung turned to you, his expression softening as he passed the joint back. “where’d she go?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you shrugged, the movement small, defeated. if only you knew where she had gone, where she always went when she left you behind. “probably back to dad,” you muttered, taking another drag. the smoke filled the silence, thick and suffocating. “she always says she’ll never leave, until she does. just like everybody else.”

you passed the joint back to him, your gaze dropping to the floor as you spoke. you didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes, didn’t want to acknowledge the truth in your words. it was easier this way, easier to believe that everyone would leave eventually. it hurt less when you expected it. taehyung studied your face, his eyes tracing every line, every feature, as if he was committing them to memory. his expression softened further, his voice barely above a whisper when he said, “not everybody.”

you met his gaze, and for a moment, you saw something there—something soft, something fragile, like a promise he wanted to make but couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. the softness in his eyes looked like a silent betrayal after what you had seen earlier. you couldn’t let yourself love him, couldn’t afford any more losses, so you stayed quiet.

the silence between you and taehyung was thick, almost suffocating, as the effects of the joint began to take hold. the world around you seemed to slow, the edges of reality blurring as the haze settled in. the tension that had coiled in your chest earlier started to unwind, loosening with each passing second. it was quiet—too quiet—yet neither of you felt the need to fill the space with words. you were both content to sit there, side by side, sharing the same air, the same smoke, letting the quietness cradle you.

but then, the stillness was shattered by the sudden, shrill ring of your phone. the sound cut through the calm like a knife, making your heart skip a beat. you froze, your eyes snapping to the screen as it lit up with the caller id. taehyung, lost in his own thoughts, didn’t seem fazed by the noise. he didn’t even glance your way, his gaze fixed on some distant point. but you—you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen. jungkook was calling you.

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to do. the sight of his name, bright and clear, sent a wave of emotions crashing over you—confusion, dread, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. you cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, and with trembling fingers, you picked up the phone. pressing it to your ear, you tried to maintain some semblance of composure as you answered, your voice strained.

“what do you want?” you asked, the words sharper than you intended, laced with a bitterness that came from deep within. jungkook’s voice on the other line was soft, almost slurred, and you could hear the telltale signs of alcohol in his tone. he was drunk, or close to it, and the vulnerability in his voice was palpable. “i made a mistake,” he confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush. “you’re the girl i want to spend my life with. i’ll do anything—anything—to have you back.”

your eyes widened, your heart pounding in your chest. you were at a loss for words, stunned into silence by the confession. this was jungkook, the one who had left you, the one who had torn your heart out without a second thought. and now, here he was, asking for a second chance, pleading for you to come back to him. it didn’t make sense. mone of it made sense.

the astonishment on your face didn’t go unnoticed by taehyung. he turned to you, his attention now fully on the conversation you were having. his eyes narrowed as he took in your shocked expression, and without warning, he snatched the phone from your grasp. you protested, your voice rising in alarm, but taehyung was quicker. he held the phone away from you, pressing it to his own ear instead.

“never call her again,” he said, his voice low and menacing, before he hung up the call without another word. the finality of the action left you reeling, staring at him in disbelief.

“what was that for, you asshole?” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and confusion. you raised your hand to snatch your phone back, but taehyung was ready for you. he caught your wrist mid-air and, with a swift tug, pulled you toward him. the force of it made you stumble, and you fell against his chest, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“were you really considering it?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “going back to him?”

you didn’t know how to respond. the truth was, you didn’t know what you were considering. jungkook’s call had thrown you off balance, and your mind was still struggling to catch up. taehyung’s grip on you tightened, and when you looked up at him, you saw something in his eyes—something almost like hurt.

“you were, weren’t you?” he pressed, his voice quieter now, laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

you shook your head, trying to pull away from him. “you have nothing to do with it,” you said, your voice firmer now. You needed to get away from him, away from the intensity of his gaze. he scoffed, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. “i have everything to do with it.”

“no,” you snapped, finally breaking free from his grip. you took a step back, putting distance between you. your heart was racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. “i’ll die before i become someone’s toy. don’t even think about it. i’m not my mother, so don’t think i’ll let you do this.”

he stared at you, stunned, taken aback by the force of your words. the room felt colder, the air between you charged with tension. he let go of your wrist, the hurt in his eyes deepening as he processed what you had said. “out of all people,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “i never thought you’d see me that way too.”

your voice shook as you replied, “prove me wrong, then.” you paused, your heart lodged in your throat as you added, “three words. say them, and i’m yours.”

his eyes lit up, a spark of hope flickering in the depths of his gaze. he opened his mouth, and for a moment, you thought he would say them. you could see it in his eyes, the struggle, the want. but as the silence stretched on, you realized the truth. he wanted to say them, you knew he did, because he meant it. but the thought of loving just to lose—of facing that pain again—was too much for him. the words died on his lips, the weight of fear holding them back. you nodded quietly, your heart sinking as the realization settled in. you turned away from him, moving back to the couch, your movements slow and deliberate. you sat down, your eyes glued to the sight in front of you, refusing to let him see the tears that threatened to spill.

taehyung didn’t say anything as he watched you, the room growing impossibly still. after a long moment, he turned away, retreating to his room without another word. the door closed softly behind him, and with that, you knew you had your answer. the silence that followed was deafening, and you let it envelop you, suffocating and cold. there was nothing left to say, nothing left to do.

you woke up with a weight in your chest, a heaviness that seemed to anchor you to the bed, pulling you deeper into the sheets. the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, but it did little to brighten the darkness that lingered in your mind. the first thing you noticed was the absence of taehyung. the space beside you was cold, untouched, as if he had never been there at all. your heart sank further at the realization, the memory of last night flooding back in a wave of regret and confusion.

you sat up slowly, your eyes sweeping across the room in search of some sign, something that might explain his absence. but the only thing that caught your eye was the unfamiliar box sitting on the table across the room. it stood out against the familiarity of his things, a stark reminder that something was amiss. curiosity piqued, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded over to it, each step feeling heavier than the last.

the box was simple, plain, but it had a note attached to it, a small piece of paper that fluttered slightly as you picked it up. you unfolded the note, your eyes scanning the words written in taehyung’s familiar scrawl. “if he’s really what you want, tell him before it’s too late.”

your heart twisted painfully at the words, the implication behind them cutting deep. you clenched the note in your hand, your fingers trembling as you struggled to make sense of it. what did he mean? was this his way of saying goodbye, of pushing you toward something you didn’t even know if you wanted? taking a deep breath, you turned your attention back to the box, lifting the lid with tentative fingers. inside, neatly folded and pristine, was a dress—a pale pink, soft and delicate, the kind of dress that would be worn to a wedding. It was new, the fabric crisp and clean, untouched by time. you stared at it, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. you didn’t want to go, didn’t want to face whatever awaited you there, but you knew you had to. you had to prove you were strong, if not for anyone else, then for yourself.

you had spent your entire life proving your strength to everyone around you, showing them that you could endure, that you could survive whatever life threw at you. but deep down, you knew you had never truly proven it to yourself. this was just another test, another challenge that you had to face head-on, no matter how much it hurt.

with a resigned sigh, you slipped the dress on, the fabric cool against your skin. you didn’t bother with makeup, didn’t feel the need to present yourself as anything other than what you were—a woman who was tired, who was worn down by the weight of her own choices, but who would still stand tall, no matter what. your appearance alone would be enough; there was no need to mask the reality of what you were feeling.

as you left taehyung’s apartment, the note still crumpled in your hand, you hailed a cab. the ride to the venue was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the words he had left you with. “if he’s really what you want, tell him before it’s too late.” the sentence echoed in your mind, over and over, like a mantra that you couldn’t shake. but you knew the truth, the truth that taehyung couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see. jungkook wasn’t what you wanted. he wasn’t what you needed. what you needed was something you couldn’t have, something that was just out of reach, always slipping through your fingers like sand.

the venue was as grand as you had expected, filled with the usual trappings of a wedding—flowers, lights, people dressed in their finest. but as you stepped inside, you felt a hollowness in your chest, a sense of detachment from the celebration around you. you were there, physically present, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the confusion of your own thoughts.

you didn’t drink. you didn’t speak. you just listened, your eyes dull as you watched the festivities unfold. the happy couple moved through the crowd, smiles bright and genuine, and you couldn’t help but wonder how things had gotten to this point. how had you ended up here, in this place, feeling so lost and alone? Where had it all gone wrong? your eyes drifted through the crowd, searching for something—someone. but taehyung was nowhere to be found. the realization brought a fresh wave of pain, a reminder that you were truly alone in this moment. and then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, your gaze locked with jungkook’s from across the room.

he was standing by the bar, his eyes wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe, or sorrow. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, to reach out to you, but he didn’t. he didn’t move, didn’t speak. Instead, he forced himself to look away, turning back to his drink, leaving you standing there with the weight of a thousand unsaid words between you.

you let him go, let the moment pass without reaching out. you knew it would happen this way, had known from the moment you saw his name on your phone screen. there was nothing left to say, nothing that could change the course you were on. so you let it be, standing alone in the midst of the celebration, the note still crumpled in your hand as the world moved on around you.

the ceremony had ended, the final vows exchanged, the last kiss shared. the room slowly emptied as the guests filed out, leaving you standing alone in the midst of the decorated hall. you hadn’t spoken a word to anyone—not to tzuyu, not to jungkook, not to anyone. the silence that surrounded you felt heavy, oppressive, but you welcomed it, letting it wrap around you like a comforting shroud as you walked out of the venue.

the pain gnawed at you, deep and unrelenting, but the sharpest ache came from the absence of taehyung. he hadn’t shown up, hadn’t been there to witness the ceremony or to stand by your side as you struggled through it. his final act of love had been to let you go, to give you the space to decide whether you wanted to be with jungkook. but in the end, you hadn’t been able to follow through. you couldn’t find it within yourself to go to jungkook, to accept what he was offering. you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t what you truly wanted.

you didn’t know where to go next—whether you should head back to your own place or return to taehyung’s apartment. but something drew you to his place, a pull that you couldn’t resist. the walk there was long, each step heavy and labored, as if your legs were weighed down by the burden of your thoughts. when you finally reached his door, your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation swirling within you.

a sick feeling settled in your stomach as you stood outside his door, expecting to find something that would shatter you even further. maybe a girl, maybe two, maybe some other reminder that you were too late, that he had already moved on. but when you finally mustered the courage to open the door, you found nothing. the apartment was empty, eerily silent except for the faint sounds coming from taehyung’s room. you hesitated, straining to hear what was going on behind his closed door. the noises were muffled, but they weren’t what you had feared. they weren’t the sounds of moans or laughter; they were something else entirely. steeling yourself, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, freezing at the sight that greeted you.

taehyung sat at the foot of his bed, his body hunched over, shaking with silent sobs. his hands clutched a photograph, his fingers trembling as he held it close to his chest. for a moment, you couldn’t register what you were seeing, your mind struggling to make sense of the situation. but as you took a closer look, your blood ran cold. it was a photograph of his mother.

the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and before you knew it, you were rushing to him, your arms wrapping around him as if by instinct. he didn’t hesitate, didn’t push you away; instead, he held on to you with a desperate, almost frantic grip, his sobs wracking his body as he buried his face in your shoulder.

you let him cry, your own shock giving way to a deep, aching sadness. the sound of his tears broke something inside you, a raw, unfiltered pain that you hadn’t been prepared for. you could feel his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as he clung to you, as if you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. tears of your own began to fall, silent and unstoppable, as you held him tighter, offering whatever comfort you could.

in between his sobs, his voice broke through, raw and choked with emotion. “did you tell him?”

you knew he was referring to the note, the one he had left with the dress, urging you to make a decision about jungkook. you shook your head, your hand coming up to gently stroke his hair as you whispered, “no, no, i didn’t.” his sobs quieted down, his grip on you loosening slightly, but he didn’t let go. “he isn’t the one i want,” you continued, your voice soft but firm. the words hung in the air between you, a truth that you hadn’t fully realized until that moment.

the trembling in his body gradually subsided, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. he looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat, a mixture of vulnerability and something deeper, something you had always hoped to see in his eyes but had never dared to believe was there.

“i love you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words echoed in your ears, reverberating through your entire being.

you blinked, trying to process what he had just said, but before you could respond, he brought his thumbs up to brush away the tears from your cheeks. “i love you,” he repeated, this time with more certainty, more conviction.

it was no use—you couldn’t keep from crying. the tears spilled over once again, but this time they weren’t just tears of sadness. they were tears of relief, of joy, of finally hearing the words you had longed to hear for so long. “i love you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking as the emotions overwhelmed you. it was your turn to sob, your body shaking with the force of everything you had been holding back. and this time, it was taehyung who held you, who wrapped his arms around you and didn’t let go. he held you as if he would never let go, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

that was all it took. three words, eight letters, and he was yours.

✧.*

a/n: off-brand gossip girl