Bulmachan22
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Summary
From closer, it’s clear that Minho is about his age. He’s handsome— very much so— in an untouchable sort of way. Straight nose, sharp eyes, a defined cupid’s bow. He looks sculpted rather than born. Jisung might shrink under the weight of his presence if the situation were different.
Knowing that Minho is dying ruins the illusion of perfection.
Jisung answers an ad online reading: "I'm going to die, but there's a lot of things I haven't done yet that I don't want to do alone."
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“Although your vulgarities are entertaining, woman, I will have you explain one thing. I recall that when you extended your offer for me to stay here, you explicitly stated not to do anything naughty. Yet why do you talk of nothing else?”
“You actually listened to me back then?” she giggled, before coming to some sort of epiphany.
“Hold up! Are you telling me you’ve tried being a gentleman all this time?” she asked.
Since she had drawn the wrong conclusion, Vegeta would set the record straight for her.
Faster than she could follow his movements, he shot up from his seat to stand across from her. He trapped her by placing his hands on the kitchen counter behind her, her hips bumping against his inner-forearms. She drew in a sharp breath, pushing her chest out, and stared at him with her big, blue eyes.
“I assure you, I’ve been trying no such thing,” he growled.
OR: We all love a three-year-gap fic, amirite?
COMPLETED!