Dream (Taehyung FF) - ON HOLD

Chapter 28

"You will get to marry her tomorrow," Gun Woo says flatly, cold and unwavering.

The words hang in the suite like a steel trap.

Taehyung lets out a short, humorless chuckle. "No. I'll be gentle. I'm not going to let you drag her into a marriage with me."

Gun Woo's dark eyes narrow slightly. His voice is calm, precise, carrying the weight of command. "Two weeks, then. I'll give you time."

"Too short," Taehyung replies smoothly, unflinching.

"Four weeks," Gun Woo counters, voice still flat, extending the limit.

Taehyung shakes his head, smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Still too short."

Gun Woo doesn't flinch. His gaze pins Taehyung in place, unblinking, a wall of cold control. "No negotiation. Four weeks"

       Taehyung sits alone in the driver's seat, the engine running but the car unmoving.

The city lights blur beyond the windshield, streaks of gold and red melting into each other. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles pale.

The deal.

The words his father said replay again and again in his head, cold and calculated.

Marriage.

He exhales sharply and slams his palm against the steering wheel.

"Why the hell did I even bring it up..."

The sound echoes inside the car, then fades into silence.

He leans back, dragging a hand down his face. He shouldn't have mentioned her. Shouldn't have let his father know about that.

But he couldn't help it.

Y/N has been living in his mind for days now—uninvited, relentless.

Her laugh.

The way her eyes curve when she smiles.

That soft, stubborn tilt of her chin when she argues.

Just thinking about her makes something hot coil low in his stomach. His jaw tightens. It's not only desire—though that's there, sharp and undeniable. It's more than that. A hunger to be close. To touch. To claim.

He imagines it—marrying her.

Waking up beside her every morning. Her hair spilled across his pillow. The warmth of her body tucked against his chest. His hand resting at her waist like it belongs there.

And at night...

He swallows.

Sliding his fingers through her hair. Pressing slow kisses along her neck. Feeling her melt under his touch, soft and trusting. Not rushed. Not rough. Just slow, deliberate closeness.

Maybe they wouldn't even need words.

Maybe sometimes it would lead to more—her breath catching, his name falling from her lips in a whisper that makes his control snap. The thought alone sends heat through him.

But it isn't only that.

It's the image of her curled against him after. His thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin. Listening to her talk about nothing and everything. Letting her exist in his arms like she was always meant to be there.

The fantasy lingers longer than it should.
With a quiet exhale, he reaches for his phone. The screen glows against the dark interior of his car. A few practiced taps and the private feed opens—the small camera he planted in the corner of her living room weeks ago.