Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hold on. I can’t breathe.”

“I can’t hold back anymore.”

For a moment, when his naked chest pressed her into the bed, when his hand effortlessly held both of hers over her head, she was consumed with fear. And then his mouth was on hers again and his hands gentled and she still couldn’t breathe but she no longer cared because…

This is what desire felt like. Like a burning from within. Like all the air had been stolen from her lungs. Like she had been plunged into fire.

When Do Guk kissed her, he poured his soul into her, into all the empty spaces she had not known existed. He filled and filled until she was overflowing. Her first lesson in love came in the worship of his touch.

The body she was in now had never felt the heat of a man, the stroke of his hands, the fervour of his mouth. In that previous timeline, she had been a virgin when she married Yoo Se Hyeok – he had told her he respected her too much to step over that boundary. But she remembered what sex with him after their marriage had been like – a few kisses, a perfunctory squeeze of her breasts, her hips, then the pain as he entered, thrust, grunted, spilled inside the condom he insisted on wearing. “We aren’t ready for a child yet, jagi…”

Now she knew. She knew Se Hyeok had never made love to her. He had used her body like a sock to jerk off into while fantasizing about her sister, Yoo Ra – her charming smile, her perfect shape.

But Do Guk tasted her lips as if they were the finest wine, trailed his mouth over her throat, her breasts as if they were heaven’s ambrosia. He removed her clothes so smoothly she hardly knew she was naked until she felt his mouth on her belly, hands on her hips, pressing her legs open. She gasped in shock, and he stilled, looking up into her face.

“I want to taste you. Tell me to stop.”

She stared at him, her cheeks flushed and mouth open, then slowly, she shook her head. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flashed and his tongue, wet and thick, moved slowly through her folds, just hard enough that she saw stars. He never stopped looking at her face as he explored her, searching for the places that made her breath catch, her hands clench, the blood pound in her veins. When she screamed his name, he finally kissed his way back up her body as she writhed in pleasure, tasting the sobs from her mouth, the tears from her eyes, asking her again and again if she were all right.

“All right. Yes, I’m all right. Good. I’m good.” She still could not catch her breath and stammered her assurances into the crook of his neck. She wrapped her arms around him, her body quivering against his, and answered him kiss for kiss, thrilled to taste herself on his tongue, on his cheeks.

She could not keep her hands still – she wanted to touch his body, feel his muscles flex under her. She craved the taste of his throat, of his shoulders, his chest. She had never felt this yearning before – the need to lick and savour. His groan when she bit his neck thrilled her – she had done that. She had brought that frenzied sound out of this powerful, controlled man. She wanted to eat him alive, bite by bite, until he lived inside her forever.

When he entered her, she tensed, waiting for the pain, but it did not come. She felt full and complete, as if this were what her body had been made for. He kissed her and kissed her as if he were starved and she was the only food he desired. When he finally moved in her, gently at first, then speeding up, his hands hard on her hips, she could hear words rise in her throat, harsh, raw, unbidden: pussy, ass, cock, fuck, fuck, fuck…

Every dirty word she had heard or read about sex shone like crystal in the light of his loving. Every rumoured act which had seemed foul and unnatural was now not only possible, but tempting. Because he loved her, sex with Do Guk seemed like a sacred ritual rather than a shameful one. When her body convulsed again, she breathed out a profane prayer of gratitude to a deity she did not believe in.

When he came inside her, she clenched her muscles, wrapped her legs around his hips to keep him in place. She wanted the promise that if this act led to a child, he would stay with her. She could not remember feeling that way about Se Hyeok. She thought she had been honouring Se Hyeok’s wish to wait for a family – she knew now that she had simply known he was not to be trusted.

She may only have months left in this life and had no idea what would happen when she reached July 7 again and her timelines converged. But as her body shuddered and glowed in the bliss of his loving, as his arms curved around to hold her tightly against his thundering heart, she vowed that she would never regret this moment. For better or for worse, for love or for revenge, she would not regret the choices she made now.

Chapter Text

1)
The young man stared at the painting, mesmerized. He could feel the longing of the tree buds to live, to flourish and grow. But they were held, encased in the icy grip of winter, caught forever in between - not dead, but not alive. Neither resting nor burgeoning. Always trapped in beautiful stillness.

The rich American boy stood slack-hipped and casually confident. “Man, how do you like the painting?”

“It’s like spring has frozen over.”

Seo Do Guk didn’t like the painting. He craved it like his next breath.

And a few weeks later, he had it.
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2)
Seo Do Guk stared at Han Yi Joo’s hyper realistic painting of her perfect family: loving father, caring stepmother, admiring younger sister, adoring husband. So flawless, every stroke masterful, the end result startling. It truly was a masterpiece.

And he knew it for a lie from start to finish.

He had watched her from afar since he had realized she was the artist of his coveted painting, hung in pride of place in his home. He collected new pieces whenever his agents world-wide found one for him. He had watched her ignored and taken for granted by her picture-perfect family. He worked with Yu Se Hyeok and knew how often he refused to pick up his wife’s calls, but never refused a message from Han Yoo Ra, jumping when she crooked her finger, his eyes following her whenever she was near, his tongue practically hanging out.

“I read somewhere that the goal of hyper-realism is not to portray the subject as they are in reality but to reveal the fact that any portrayal, however real, is ultimately fake.”

He knew Han Yi Joo considered her art a rich girl’s hobby - her family had made sure to keep her pride in check. But he believed she did not understand how much a discerning eye could read in her work.

He was sorry he had spoken to her as he had – he had been harsh and judgmental, and her crest-fallen face had struck him hard. But to stand in front of her – finally – and to have no right, none at all, to protect her from Han Yoo Ra’s barbs, from Yu Se Hyeok’s indifference…

He would not forgive them for her pain. And if he had a chance to hurt them, even in a small way, he would.
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3)
“My head is so muddled. I don’t want to think of anything.”
“What can I do so that you don’t have to think at all? Do you want my help?”

“Hold on. I can’t breathe.”
“I can’t hold back anymore.”

He knew he should stop, wait for her to catch up, catch her breath, but he was afraid she would stop him, and he had held back for so long, waited for so long, held his breath and held his hands from reaching out for her, from touching her…

He had promised to keep her from thinking, had promised to take the responsibility from her. He could do that for her, as he had been from the beginning of this strange re-set of their lives.

“Do you want my help? So you don’t have to think at all?”

The tears in her eyes tore his heart in pieces. He shouldn’t do this – he knew that. He should help her feel safe and secure, not wrap his arms around her. Not press his lips to hers. Not coax her mouth to open under his or sweep her tongue with his. Not shudder when her shaking hands struggled to unbutton his shirt. He deepened the kiss, coaxing and soothing until she moaned under him.

He pulled her hands over her head so the dates he knew were ticking down their time together were out of sight and took what he wanted. The kisses they had shared up to now had been tentative, exploring, often tasting of her tears – now he demanded her submission. He wanted her out of control, unfocused, unable to string two coherent thoughts together.

He wanted her to be his in every way – not just his wife. Not just his companion. He wanted her to be the very breath in his lungs.

He kissed his way down her flushed body, removing clothes as he went, sucking bruises into her delicate skin. He could hear her still thinking so loudly it drummed in the room. He knew how to stop that.

“I want to taste you. Tell me to stop.”

He heard her brain click off when she breathed, “Don’t stop.”

He kept his eyes on her face as he explored her, chasing her pleasure. He could tell from her strangled breath, from her frantic hands, that she was drowning in sensations new to her, and he cursed Yoo Se Hyeok for his lack even as he was grateful to be the one to show Yi Joo what her body was capable of. When he felt her hands in his hair, heard his name fill the room, he nursed her through her pleasure and then held her trembling against him and asked her over and over again if she was all right.

It was as if a switch had been flipped – she returned his kisses, running her hands over his body, tasting him with shy tongue and wicked teeth. He groaned and rose over her, unable to restrain himself any longer.

Entering her was like coming in from the cold, into home. He held still to let her adjust, kissing her face, her mouth, her throat. He could feel her fear and tension – this time he waited for her to catch up to him, letting her know with his kisses how much he loved and desired her, and when her hands clutched his arms and her breath hitched into a moan, he began to move.

Now it was his brain that turned off. No fear of the future, no calculation about how and what to tell her, to ask of her – just the joy of being with her this way, connected and in tune as he had never been with anybody before. When she melted in his arms, when she swore as she came – his shy and proper wife – he could not hold back any longer. He prayed to whatever was interfering with their fates this time, that there may be a child, a new life, confirmation that what they had gone through was worth the pain.

But he pledged that there would be no regret. This time, they would live fully, without regret. And he would see her blossom.

Chapter Text

The first time he held his arms out for a hug, and she placed her flower-ringed hand on his cheek and shyly touched his lips with hers…

The first time she introduced him as her nampyeon. Husband…

The first time she called him yeobo. Honey…

The first time he reached out to take her hand on the street and her fingers curled around his and warmth flowed between them…

The first time she walked into his arms seeking comfort and he wrapped himself around her like a warm blanket…

The first time he woke with her in his bed, her hair on his lips, her body curled against his, their arms wrapped around each other…

The first time he cooked a meal for her…

The first time she took a bite of a meal he made without waiting for him to taste it first…

Seo Do Guk sat in the back seat, holding Han Yi Joo’s hand, timing the contractions and reminding her to breathe, counting the first times over and over:
The first time he held her.
The first time they made love.
The first time he felt her coming around him.
The first time she turned to him, seeking the comfort of his body.
The first time she said, “I love you.”

How many first times had they had? How many more were in the future that they almost hadn’t had – might not have shared? How many firsts would he add to the list he was repeating like a mantra in his head as he tried to stay strong, tried not to panic, tried to be fully present and supportive?

He snapped at Byeon Jae Ho to drive faster – then, when they hit a bump and Yi Joo gasped in pain – to slow the hell down.

Registering in the hospital, being led away from his wife to be scrubbed and gowned, coming back into the family delivery room where Yi Joo lay in a white bed, her eyes wide and frightened, her face as pale as the sheets, her stomach rippling with each contraction.

She grabbed his hand and sobbed while he breathed for her, tried to bear the pain for her.

The first time he set eyes on a painting which spoke to him of burgeoning growth and life and joy frozen, suspended in winter’s icy grip…

The first time in that other timeline he had seen Yi Joo and been struck by the universe of pain swirling in her eyes, the stiffness of her body as she moved through a hostile world…

The first time he saw her then-husband ignore her phone call to read a message from her sister…

The first time he saw how her so-called family abused and undercut her at every turn…

The first time he felt the urge to hurt – to kill – someone who threatened her happiness…

The first time he tried to save her, only for them both to lose their lives in the attempt…

The first time he woke up and realized he had a second chance – they had another chance…

The first time she came to him, her courage held tight in both hands, to make him an offer he had no hesitation in accepting…

The first time he opened his eyes, disoriented and unaware of how long he had been unconscious, and she had not been by his side…

Yi Joo groaned – a deep, wrenching sound – and the doctor said calmly, “You are fully dilated, Han Yi Joo-nim. It’s time to start pushing.”

The first time he held his daughter in his hands…

And life began again.