shu

24; she/her; my goal in life is to be as buff as sunghoon (/hj)

[jungwonslover]

| SYMPHONIA IX ft. YJW

you were used to matchmaking, after all you were the reason your sister found her boyfriend but truthfully you didn't think much about love for yourself, not until you found yourself feeling more than you should for the local rich boy.

pairing: roommate!jungwon 𝓍 roommate!femreader word count: 22.2K — one-shot ★⋆ content: fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ eventual smut soulmate au, kinda love at first sight, heavily based on xo kitty (but mature), loverboy!jungwon, matchmaker!reader, you don't have to have watched to read this!. SLOW BURN, a whole lot of yearning, jealousy, denial of feelings, introvert reader, refs to aot, refs to beautiful boy, characters from xo kitty, feat bsf!jake & enhypen!

★ | LISTEN ALONG! | PLAYLIST | LIBRARY

⚠︎ : alcohol, nightmares, cheating? (pls js wait) , toxic themes, at some point during this you're going to dislike jungwon but PLEASE let him land. jw loses his mind slightly.. making out, dry humping, spit play (ish), kinda mean!dom!won, fingering, nipple play, hair pulling, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

— dreams are a form of communication for soulmates—a door into a life that could be. at the first meeting with their soulmate some become fortunate enough to develop dreams of them, it could be of anything, they could even be a background character, it'd be easy to mistake them for usual dreams but only few get blessed—cursed with these dreams.

being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.

their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.

however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.

this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.

you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.

truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.

you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.

before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.

the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.

thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.

the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.

as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.

[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]

a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.

"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.

jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.

he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.

your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.

with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.

"have we met?".

you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.

he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.

the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.

he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.

he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".

he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.

jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.

you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.

he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.

after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.

"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.

after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.

you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.

you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.

"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.

"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.

"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.

jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.

[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]

you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".

"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.

their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.

the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.

he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.

unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.

after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.

you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.

"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.

"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.

you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.

"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.

you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.

jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.

he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.

you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.

"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.

you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.

you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.

he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.

"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.

you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.

as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.

[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]

you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.

he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.

jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.

he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.

his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.

he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.

he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.

he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.

you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.

you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.

"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.

it's not the same.

"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".

you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.

"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.

"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.

"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.

"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.

after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.

without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.

you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".

"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.

"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.

"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.

"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".

"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.

"let's go home"

his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.

"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.

"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.

"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.

you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.

your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.

"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.

"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.

jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.

"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".

"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.

"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.

you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.

you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.

however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.

you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.

he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.

you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.

"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.

"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.

his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.

you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.

"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.

"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.

"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.

"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".

"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.

"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.

"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.

"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.

"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.

"aren't all love stories?" he countered.

"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.

you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.

jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.

you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.

your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.

"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.

you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.

jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.

.⭑ˎˊ˗

you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.

that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.

he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.

you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.

so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.

he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.

"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.

"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.

you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.

"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.

you turned to him "perfect... thank you".

his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.

[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]

he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.

he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.

"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."

your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.

you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.

his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.

you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.

neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.

"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.

"so do you" he managed back.

he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.

you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.

you remembered the words.

and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.

you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.

you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.

you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.

you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.

without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.

the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.

the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.

you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.

he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?

after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.

"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.

he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"

you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".

"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.

"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"good or bad dream?" he asked.

"i don't know yet".

.⭑ˎˊ˗

you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.

"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."

after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.

jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.

after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.

jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.

he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.

which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.

it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.

so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.

it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.

the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.

even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.

so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.

that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.

his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.

he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.

he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.

he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.

no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.

so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.

"hey, where are you?"

[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]

you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.

the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.

the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.

you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.

nothing more.

the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.

your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.

after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.

you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.

jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.

he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.

"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.

"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.

you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".

yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.

"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?

you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.

"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.

he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.

"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.

the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.

"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.

you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.

his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.

"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.

"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.

it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.

[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]

now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.

jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.

he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.

for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.

"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.

you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.

with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.

jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.

the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.

"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.

you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.

god he thought he was past this.

friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.

you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.

friends. roommates.

you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.

and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.

jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.

you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.

you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.

"i'm right here".

he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.

"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.

"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.

"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.

without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.

he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.

"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.

"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.

he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".

you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."

surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.

you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.

[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]

"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.

"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.

you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.

jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.

you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.

your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?

you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.

his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.

in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.

your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.

you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.

and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.

neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.

you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.

he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.

you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.

but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.

[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]

your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.

you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.

"y/n, hey wake up"

you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.

jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.

he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.

"bad dream?"

"the worst" you sighed.

you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.

"you're okay" he whispered.

you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.

you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.

you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.

it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.

you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.

"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.

"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.

you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.

you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.

"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.

this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.

you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.

"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.

"like you've never seen me before"

he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.

"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".

you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.

"save that for your soulmate" you joked.

the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.

you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.

your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.

you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.

you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.

after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.

he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.

instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.

you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.

you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".

"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.

you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.

"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.

you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.

a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.

you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.

maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.

half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.

you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.

"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.

"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.

[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]

that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.

you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.

only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.

"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.

"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.

"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.

"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"

you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".

you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.

"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.

and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.

"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.

you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".

you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.

not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.

you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.

you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.

you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.

you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.

by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.

you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.

you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.

"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.

"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.

it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.

you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.

jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.

they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.

finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.

"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.

"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.

"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.

by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.

jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.

jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.

maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.

jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.

you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.

this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.

you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.

but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.

you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.

the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.

there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.

as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.

you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.

he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.

you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.

after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.

you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,

"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.

"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".

he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".

you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.

after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.

you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.

you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.

you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.

you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.

"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.

"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.

"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.

silence. dead ghostly silence.

for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.

[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]

the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.

"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.

"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.

you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.

you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.

you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.

"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.

you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.

"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.

"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.

"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.

you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.

you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.

"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.

you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.

"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.

"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.

throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.

you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.

especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.

you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.

"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.

everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.

the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.

"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.

"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.

"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.

"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.

jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.

"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.

"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.

"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.

[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]

"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.

"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.

"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.

you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.

"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.

"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.

"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.

the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.

"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.

"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.

"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.

"is it?"

you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.

jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.

"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.

he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.

"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".

as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.

"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.

"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.

you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.

"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.

you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.

"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".

"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.

"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.

"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.

it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.

when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.

which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.

you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.

you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.

"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.

"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.

"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.

"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.

"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.

"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.

instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.

"are you not leaving?"

"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.

you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..

"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.

"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.

[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]

he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.

but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.

which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.

"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.

if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.

"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.

"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.

the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.

"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.

he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.

only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.

"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.

"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.

"why can't we be?" he asked.

"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.

"so?" he walked closer to you.

"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.

"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.

"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.

"yes, she does".

"does she know everything?" you emphasized.

any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.

"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.

you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.

"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.

even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.

but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.

"fine, we'll see"

because space is easier when only you're aware of it.

he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.

she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.

"hey can we talk?"

you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"

you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.

"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.

"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.

"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.

"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.

but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.

"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.

"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.

you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.

not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.

sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.

[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]

and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.

you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.

"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.

something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.

yeah.. this was not going to work.

you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.

the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.

you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.

you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.

"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.

"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.

"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.

"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.

"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.

you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.

you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.

his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.

and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.

you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.

you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.

"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.

"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.

"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.

he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.

he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.

"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.

his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.

"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.

you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.

"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.

"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.

he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.

your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.

months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.

he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.

"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.

his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.

"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.

you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.

one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap

"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.

he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.

you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.

his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.

[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]

for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.

you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.

"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.

"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.

"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.

"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.

you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.

you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.

because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.

so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.

"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.

"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.

"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.

you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.

yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.

jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.

neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.

"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.

"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.

"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.

you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.

you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.

you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.

as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.

but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.

you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.

your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.

you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.

[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]

with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.

jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.

for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.

his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.

"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.

"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.

"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.

"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.

you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.

"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.

"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.

"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.

"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.

"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.

"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.

"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".

"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.

he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.

"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.

you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.

"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.

his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.

[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]

"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.

your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.

"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.

"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.

"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.

"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.

"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.

"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.

as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.

but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.

that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.

once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.

"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.

you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.

one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.

his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.

you found me.

your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.

"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.

you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.

"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.

you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.

"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.

he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.

"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.

he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.

"you found me"

he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.

"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.

you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.

"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.

[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]

after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.

you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.

"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.

he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.

"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.

"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..

"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.

you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".

he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.

"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.

you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.

"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.

"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.

"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.

your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.

"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.

your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.

he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.

his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.

"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.

"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.

"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.

you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.

he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.

he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.

he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.

you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.

"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.

"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.

your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.

you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.

"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"

your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.

"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.

"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.

"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.

"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.

as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.

you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.

you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.

you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.

your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.

as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.

he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.

now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.

what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.

and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.

you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.

his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.

"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.

his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.

"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.

"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.

"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.

"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.

"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.

"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.

"i deserved that.."

.⭑ˎˊ˗

time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.

you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.

your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..

yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.

nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.

he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.

one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.

the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.

you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to get them.

after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.

come to the roof

slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.

"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.

"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.

"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.

"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.

he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.

"how did you-" you gasped.

"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.

"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.

"everything?"

"everything."

had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.

@ewstain @RIZZHEEING @s4eungie @wonatlas @swiftjay23 @heeseungsvocals @heedimples @ickbite @xionvlog @mwezieclipze @unsvripted @starry-eyed-bimbo @enhaxhypen @yangwontons @won1yoiz @imsojuliaaaaaa @fancypeacepersona @toastmenace @hoonstruck-7 @lily-xoxooo @nonchalantjaeyun @wonieph0ria @seungsoftly @forrds @shhth @myenhareblogs @maililovesreading @roseynoodles @filmnings @goosemantheweeb @idonthatefruits @yooniverse00 @shawnyle @ikeulove @itsmebianapena @dreamiestay @angelhyuka @xowonat

© jungwonslover 2026 — do not repost, edit, redistribute or translate my work without prior permission and credit. all my work is strictly fictional and not an accurate representation of these people in real life.

[liuhsng]

───༉‧₊˚. frat house president!jungwon who never loses

⤷ very self-indulgent headcanons about fratboy!jungwon

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jungwon x fem!reader ⤷ word count — 6.9k ⤷ enhypen permanent taglist — open !

⤷ warning/s — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), college au, frat!enhypen, fratboy!jungwon, college!jungwon, college!enhypen, business major!jungwon, rich!jungwon, rich kid!jungwon, popular!jungwon, heir!jungwon, jungwon is very down bad, fashion major!reader, sunoo is a good wingman, sunoo is reader’s cousin, mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, smoking (implied), illegal street racing, physical fights, jealousy/possessiveness, fluff

⤷ a/n — as a heeseung stan, i have very mixed feelings about everything happening right now, but i firmly believe he’ll be back—#hopemaxxing !! anyways hi my loves ! i’m finally back for a bit since university is giving me time to breathe again, so here i am. i’m planning to continue the ‘xo, with you’ series if my schedule allows it, and as always, i hope you enjoy !! 🤍

fratboy!jungwon who only attended decelis university to please his father, who wanted him to do something with his life and be a ‘normal young adult’ for once—unbeknownst to them, jungwon had already been living that life back in high school, just in his own way; the kind where silence in a mansion meant freedom, where long business trips meant no supervision.

fratboy!jungwon who turned their empty home into something loud, alive—throwing parties that stretched until sunrise, music echoing through halls that were never meant to hold that kind of mess, jungwon always somewhere in the middle of it, not drunk, not out of control, just watching—because even then, he liked being the one in control.

fratboy!jungwon who took business management as his major just to inherit the family fortune and to please his older sister, who didn’t want to be the next family head—unlike him, who basked in the idea of it, the power, the name, the way people would look at him differently; he still remembers the way she fixed his collar one morning, sighing softly, “you’re the only one who actually wants this,” and jungwon only smiled, because wanting it meant winning it.

fratboy!jungwon who the moment he stepped foot onto campus, heads turned almost instantly, the low hum of his sports car engine dying down as he parked in a free spot right beside a row of flimsy bikes he had to fight the urge to laugh at, twirling his keys lazily around his fingers before tossing them into the glovebox without a second thought—if it got stolen, he could just buy a new one anyway; the door shut softly, but the attention around him wasn’t, whispers already starting before he even took a step.

fratboy!jungwon who didn’t care for the murmurs around him as he walked through the gates like he owned the place, despite it being welcome week for freshmen—which included him.

his hand tucked into his pocket, phone pressed to his ear as he casually spoke to lee heeseung, or what he liked to call his senior, already in his third year.

“don’t make me wait,” heeseung muttered. earning a quiet laugh from the other end.

and it wasn’t just anyone—it was the same heeseung who taught him the basics of throwing a damn good party behind their parents’ backs, the same heeseung who came from a family just as prominent as his.

fratboy!jungwon who only dressed in designer clothing thanks to his older sister, who refused to let him be seen any other way, her words still lingering in his head—“you are not going to be an embarrassment to me, jungwon, and if you do, at least look half-decent”—so he shows up to classes decked out effortlessly, expensive fabrics sitting on him like second skin, not because he really cared, but because reputation did.

fratboy!jungwon who before even becoming a fratboy had every fraternity fighting to have him in their house, for the sake of keeping up a good image or simply for having yang jungwon under their name—for both his status and his looks; he hears the whispers, the offers, the subtle attempts to impress him, but he never answers right away, just watching, amused, like it was all a game he already knew he’d win.

fratboy!jungwon who only nodded and flashed his signature dimpled smirk as heeseung stood next to him, proudly bragging that he was already part of house dark blood—and as corny as the name sounded, jungwon couldn’t deny it was filled with people like him, rich, connected, and familiar, faces he’d seen long before university, so choosing them wasn’t even a question.

fratboy!jungwon who became the president of the house in the blink of an eye despite being a freshman, all because of a bet that may or may not have involved illegal street racing with the former president—who, in his own stupidity, agreed to it while half out of his mind, laughing like it was a joke, only for jungwon to win within minutes.

fratboy!jungwon who stepped out of his car with a wide smirk, leaning against the hood as cheers erupted around him, the night loud and electric, the former president handing him the house keys in quiet shame while sunghoon and the others rushed toward him with wide grins, calling him insane—but jungwon only tilted his head slightly, like it was expected.

fratboy!jungwon who despite all the attention on him and his frat brothers, his eyes still found you across the street, like everything else blurred out the second you stepped into his line of sight—you, in a body-hugging silky black dress paired with heels that clicked softly against the pavement, your shorter stature only making the look more striking, a black leather jacket thrown over your shoulders.

and for a brief moment, jungwon glanced down at himself—black zip-up pulled halfway down, revealing a tank top underneath, baggy jeans layered with chains—and clicked his tongue under his breath, silently cursing himself, “should’ve dressed better”.

fratboy!jungwon who was pulled back into reality by a rough pat on his back from kim sunoo, one of the sophomores he quickly got along with, the older already grinning as he looked at him, “you did good,” sunoo said, voice light and teasing. “why are you so spaced out?”

jungwon didn’t answer right away but sunoo followed his line of sight anyway—and the moment he saw you, a quiet laugh slipped out of him, shoulders shaking slightly as he nudged jungwon’s side. “didn’t know you were into the soft types.”

that was enough to snap jungwon out of it. his head turned sharply, brows furrowing as he looked at him, “you know her?” he muttered, tone low, almost disbelieving.

sunoo only nodded, smile turning knowing as he replied, “yeah, she’s my cousin—(y/n),” letting your name sit for a second—just to make it worse, before adding, “do you want her number?”

fratboy!jungwon who thanks to his pride and ego only shook his head at the idea of needing anything, letting out a quiet scoff as if the entire situation was almost insulting.

“what?” he muttered, tone laced with effortless arrogance. “don’t you trust me?”

a pause, then a faint tilt of his head as if the answer was obvious.

“you’re literally talking to the new president of house dark blood,” just as jay suddenly appeared beside him, dramatically throwing an arm out as if presenting a show, “looks like we got a new frat president—everyone, yang jungwon!”

and just like that, the crowd erupted, cheers and hollers bouncing off the night air as all eyes snapped back to him, but fratboy!jungwon only smiled—slow, smug, controlled—already used to this kind of attention, his gaze briefly dropping to the can of red bull in jay’s hand before he exhaled quietly through his nose, yeah… first thing he’s doing is limiting the energy drink stock back at the house.

fratboy!jungwon who met your eyes again like it was inevitable, like no matter how loud the world got around him, it always circled back to you—sending a flirty smirk your way that wasn’t subtle in the slightest, watching as you blinked once, then twice, clearly caught off guard, the tips of your ears turning red, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks that only made his smirk widen.

and fratboy!jungwon couldn’t help but tilt his head slightly in curiosity because you didn’t fit here, not at all—you looked like the type who preferred quiet mornings, polished nails, soft conversations, the kind who’d rather sit in the passenger seat and be taken care of than stand in the middle of something as loud and reckless as illegal street racing—and yet here you were, standing under dim lights and roaring engines was enough to confuse him.

fratboy!jungwon who felt that same smirk get wiped off his face almost instantly the moment the former president—the same one he beat just minutes ago—started walking toward you, his jaw tightening as his expression darkened, eyes narrowing just slightly.

and jake—one of the third-years jungwon got along with let out a low whistle beside him, the sound cutting subtly through the noise. he exchanged a knowing look with sunoo before muttering under his breath,

“yikes… there he goes again.”

jungwon’s brows furrowed immediately as he glanced at you.

“what do you mean?

jake only shrugged, nudging sunoo lightly like he was passing the responsibility off. “you wanna take this one or—”

sunoo rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the drama, before looking back at jungwon again.

when he spoke again, his voice dropped—just enough to make it feel more serious. “the president—well, former—likes her.”

a small pause.

“and he’s not really the type to take no for an answer… no matter how many times (y/n) rejects him.”

and something about that didn’t sit right with jungwon at all, his eyes flickering back to you, watching the interaction too closely, jaw set as a quiet, almost dangerous thought settled in his head—because you weren’t just some girl anymore, not when you were sunoo’s cousin, not when luck had already placed you right in front of him—and jungwon, for all his control, had never been the type to let something he wanted slip away.

fratboy!jungwon who made it his mission to bother sunoo the moment every painfully boring frat meeting ended—especially when all they did was talk about something as simple as throwing a party to celebrate him.

so now he’s trailing right behind sunoo in the late afternoon, just outside the house, hands tucked in his pockets as he circles him like he’s got something to say (he does), and sunoo doesn’t even look annoyed, just mildly entertained, like he’s dealing with a kid who wants candy.

except this kid could buy the entire store without blinking.

jungwon walks beside him casually before dropping it out of nowhere, voice low, almost too casual, “so… how’s (y/n)?”

and that alone is enough to make sunoo laugh, shaking his head as they step out into the driveway where his car is parked right next to jungwon’s, glancing at him with a teasing smile, “what happened to ‘hi sunoo’ or ‘good afternoon sunoo’?”

fratboy!jungwon who isn’t exactly known for patience, only shrugging slightly as if that counts as a greeting, “good afternoon, sunoo… so, how’s (y/n)?”

sunoo lets out a quiet hum at that, already slipping into his car. he presses a button, and the roof slowly slides back, letting the late afternoon sunlight pour in.

only then does he glance back at jungwon, clearly amused. “you gonna keep asking questions, or are you gonna get in your car and follow me?”

and honestly, jungwon isn’t that hard to convince, huffing softly under his breath as he turns, slipping into his own car and pulling the door shut in one smooth motion, hand immediately reaching for the glove box before starting the engine, eyes flicking toward sunoo just in time to see him pulling out first and heading toward the main road of campus—and jungwon follows without hesitation.

fratboy!jungwon who isn’t someone easily surprised—but he definitely was the moment he and sunoo pulled up and parked in front of a boutique he immediately deemed too girly, too pink, too… not him.

he steps out of his car with a slight raise of his brow as he glanced at the storefront, recognizing the area easily—lined with designer shops he was familiar with—but this one? yeah, he’s never had a reason to step inside somewhere that looked like it catered to silk dresses and soft ribbons when all he ever needed were tailored pants and new silver chains.

jungwon only looks at sunoo like he’s about to question his life choices, but the older only nudges his head forward, silently telling him to follow.

and jungwon can only mutter a quiet, “oh, for fuck’s sake,” under his breath before pushing the door open, the soft chime of the bell greeting them as they step inside.

fratboy!jungwon who isn’t entirely surprised when his eyes land on you almost immediately—standing near a rack, carefully picking between two dresses hung in front of you, your fingers lightly brushing over the fabric like you were trying to decide which one spoke to you more, another pile of clothes stacked messily beside a chair already overflowing with options—and it’s such a contrast to everything he’s used to that he just… watches for a second.

sunoo doesn’t hesitate though, already striding in with a bright, “(y/n)!” that makes you turn quickly, your expression softening into a small smile the moment you recognize him.

and then shifting into confusion when your gaze flickers to jungwon standing beside him—but before you can even ask, sunoo is already speaking again, clearing his throat,

“i brought jungwon with me, hope you don’t mind—and don’t worry, my sister already knows,”

you offer a small, polite smile in response, and jungwon catches it instantly, something about it making him straighten just slightly. his eyes flicker briefly to a sign nearby that reads ‘kim’s atelier,’ the name settling in his mind before his attention drifts right back to you.

only for sunoo to suddenly mutter something about needing to check on his sister, already backing away toward another part of the boutique, leaving the two of you standing there in a quiet that feels a little too intentional.

fratboy!jungwon who doesn’t hesitate in approaching you, but still keeps a respectable distance, like he knows better than to crowd you too fast, flashing that signature dimpled smile as his hands slip into the pockets of his trousers, sleeves of his black button-up slightly rolled, exposing toned arms that flex subtly with every movement.

he tilts his head, voice light, almost amused, “typical sunoo,”

and the soft giggle that slips past your lips right after is enough to make something in his chest loosen, a quiet relief settling in as you shake your head slightly, “i know… don’t think too much about it, he’s always been weird like that.”

jungwon only hums in agreement, eyes flickering briefly—noticing the way you’re dressed, the soft fabrics, the shorter skirt, the pile of clothes beside you that all follow the same theme—and he takes note of it, stores it somewhere in his head.

fratboy!jungwon who suddenly finds himself silently thanking his older sister for every forced shopping trip she dragged him to. his gaze drops to the dresses in your hands, tilting his head slightly before speaking without hesitation, “either would look good on you.”

his tone carried a kind of confidence that doesn’t sound like a guess, and it shows in the way your cheeks warm almost instantly, but he doesn’t stop there.

he steps just a little closer—still careful—eyes scanning the fabrics as he adds, “the one on the right brings out your eyes… but the other one’s different—the ruffles at the hem make it softer, more delicate… or, at least, that’s what my sister says.”

he finishes with a small shrug, like he’s brushing it off, but the quick look of admiration on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

and internally, jungwon is thanking every possible god for that one piece of information he bothered to remember. he lets out a quiet breath, slipping back into something smoother, more practiced, as he pulls one hand out of his pocket and offers it to you, “yang jungwon.”

and the moment you place yours in his, softly replying, “kim (y/n),” he doesn’t hesitate—lifting your hand just slightly, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles, slow enough to mean something, just enough to make your breath hitch and your cheeks flush deeper.

and jungwon only chuckles under his breath, still holding your hand—longer than necessary, longer than polite—because it’s soft, because it’s warm, and because he doesn’t see a reason to let go just yet.

fratboy!jungwon who lets you drag him through hallways after class, even if it’s only been a few weeks, even if people are already staring—because there he is, yang jungwon, walking around campus in all black, plain sweater, baggy pants, silver rings catching the light… holding a very obviously pink tote bag covered in bows that sticks out like a sore thumb.

yet he doesn’t complain.

he just adjusts his grip slightly as you hum beside him, glancing at your phone before looking back up with a small frown, “have you eaten lunch yet?”

jungwon only shakes his head, dark bangs falling over his eyes as he answers easily, “no… but i could eat. do you want to?”

before he can even say anything else, you’re already stepping closer, gently nudging him to the side to avoid the crowd before reaching up without hesitation to fix his hair, fingers brushing against his forehead as you smooth the strands down.

for a second, jungwon goes still—not because he’s surprised, but because he can smell your perfume, soft vanilla lingering too close, settling somewhere in his mind as something he needs to remember, something that already feels familiar in a way he can’t explain.

fratboy!jungwon who starts picking you up after every class like it’s become part of his routine, going out of his way to drive toward your building even after long frat meetings, barely sparing a glance at anyone as he mutters quick goodbyes, already halfway out the door.

heeseung just huffs behind him, shaking his head, “he’s down bad that fast?”

jay only laughs, leaning back in his seat, “hey, at least he’s useful—those donation drive ideas? we already have three lined up and the event isn’t even for weeks.”

and jungwon doesn’t even hear them anymore, too busy tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulls up outside your building, eyes scanning the entrance like he’s waiting for something important.

fratboy!jungwon who finds himself willingly subjected to your projects—of course you were a fashion major, and somehow, despite the very real mannequin standing untouched in the corner of your dorm, he ends up being your personal one.

he stands still as you adjust fabrics against him, pinning here and there with careful precision, your fingers brushing his arms, his shoulders, his chest—and jungwon, who usually hates being told what to do, just… lets you.

even humming softly under his breath without realizing it, something he never does, no matter how content he is, but there’s something about you, about the way you focus, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted in concentration, that makes him stay still longer than necessary, enjoying it more than he should.

fratboy!jungwon who leans casually against your door once you’re both done, hands resting loosely on your hips as you fix the tie hanging crooked around his neck, fingers brushing against the fabric, adjusting it with small, precise movements while he watches you from above, amused.

you hum teasingly, “remind me why you’re dressed like a business student again?” even though he’s only in a white button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show his arms, a plain black tie clipped neatly with a small prada pin—and he chuckles under his breath, watching your brows furrow in concentration as you try to fix it properly, finding it a little too amusing how you barely reach his adam’s apple, when you’re not in heels.

tilting his head slightly, he feigns a pout, “baby, i am a business major—you wound me.”

you let out a quiet laugh, pressing your palms lightly against his chest as you smooth the fabric one last time. “all done.”

jungwon just looks at you for a second too long, something soft and obvious in his eyes, a lovesick expression he doesn’t even try to hide as he murmurs, “thank you, baby.”

only for you to hum back casually, “yeah, you’re welcome—now go, you’re gonna be late for your photoshoot,”

fratboy!jungwon who immediately lets that pout return, deeper this time, brows knitting together slightly as he leans closer, “don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already?”

you roll your eyes, slipping away from him to grab his bag and keys from your bed before placing them into his hands. he sighs dramatically, shaking his head, “can’t believe my own girl is kicking me out of her room.”

even though you aren’t his—not yet—but you don’t argue.

you just roll your eyes again before stepping closer, rising onto your toes, hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, quick but enough to leave him completely still for a second.

his breath catches somewhere in his chest as he blinks down at you, caught off guard in a way that almost never happens—until you pull back, smiling like it was nothing, “now go on, that fraternity photoshoot won’t wait, jungwon,”

when he finally turns to leave, he doesn’t even bother wiping off the very obvious pink gloss you left on his cheek, walking out like that on purpose, smugly claiming it as his—and with the way his grin slowly spreads after that—yeah, there’s no way he was saying no to you now.

fratboy!jungwon who finds himself in a situation he never thought he’d be in—grumbling under his breath as he waits outside his older sister’s building, leaning against the side of his car while the engine hums low, the sound filling the silence.

students pass by and sneak glances at him, and despite the rumors about them not getting along—because of their differences, because she’s already a senior about to graduate while he’s just a freshman—he still came.

he watches her approach from a distance, arms crossed as she stops in front of him, raising a brow, “what are you doing here, jungwon?”

for a second, he almost backs out, almost brushes it off like it was nothing—but he sighs instead, muttering something under his breath, only for her to frown, “speak up, i can’t hear you with all that muttering,”

jungwon finally lifts his head, jaw tight, ears and cheeks faintly flushed against his usual composed expression as he blurts out, “how do i ask a girl out?”

it sounds wrong coming from him—yang jungwon, who’s never had to ask for anything twice, who’s never needed help with something like this—and yet here he is, standing in front of the one person he swore he wouldn’t go to.

fratboy!jungwon who can’t help the small smile that slips onto his face when he takes you out to eat somewhere near campus, sitting across from you as you lean forward without hesitation to try the ramen he ordered, only to immediately stick your tongue out, wincing at the burn as your eyes water.

before you can even say anything, he’s already reaching for the nearest cup, sliding it toward you, “careful,” he mutters.

you take it with teary eyes, and for a second, he just watches you—he had to look away for a second, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his composure—because you look cute, and he’s not used to thinking like that, not used to wanting to say it out loud, so he keeps it to himself, settling for a quiet huff instead.

fratboy!jungwon who surprisingly doesn’t mind you dragging him around malls, even if he used to hate long walks and anything remotely tiring that didn’t involve working out, illegal street racing, or picking fights with people he thought were too full of themselves—now he just follows a step behind you without complaint.

fratboy!jungwon who now finds himself sitting patiently on benches or outside fitting rooms, phone in hand as he takes pictures of you spinning around in skimpy skirts and body-hugging dresses, different colors, different styles, capturing every little turn and smile like it’s important, nodding in approval each time like your opinion somehow depends on his, like he’s already decided everything looks good on you anyway.

fratboy!jungwon who never saw the need to spend his money on anything he considered useless—outside of his own parties, frat events, occasional charity drives (not just for image, he tells himself), and new cars—to him, money was a tool. something to maintain status, control, reputation; never something to waste on small, meaningless things—that’s just how he was raised.

fratboy!jungwon who somehow throws that standard out the window when it comes to you. now he’s the one paying for your overly sweet matcha drinks and tiny cakes without a second thought, covering every shopping spree you drag him into, even offering to pay for your nail appointments like it’s nothing—and the moment you show him a pretty pink set with black details, shyly mentioning you wanted to incorporate him into it, something in him just… settles, a quiet satisfaction he doesn’t question, because at this point it’s obvious—yang jungwon isn’t just spending money anymore, he’s investing in you, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

fratboy!jungwon who finds himself thinking about you in the middle of football games—something that should be impossible given how loud everything gets, how focused he’s supposed to be—but somehow you still slip into his mind, even when he only joined because heeseung and ni-ki dragged him into it, ending up as a winger like it was nothing, sprinting down the field with sharp precision, breath steady, eyes locked in—yet there’s a moment, just before he makes a play, where he mutters under his breath, almost instinctively, “i’ll win this for you.”

even if you aren’t there—busy with your projects or somewhere on campus catching up with sunoo, and it’s ridiculous, really, how much it drives him—but he doesn’t question it.

fratboy!jungwon who is still the same cocky, egotistical yang family heir everyone knows—the same freshman who somehow became the president of house dark blood because of some illegal street racing bet, the same guy who scoffs at the idea of effort when his money already gets him everything, the same one who doesn’t hesitate to throw a punch just to blow off steam—but there’s something slightly different now, something people notice even if they can’t fully place it, because rumors spread fast in decelis.

fratboy!jungwon who has whispers following him in halls about how yang jungwon has a thing now—a fling? a girlfriend? no one really knows, and jungwon doesn’t bother correcting them, because to him, labels don’t matter, not when you’re already his anyways. the way his arm naturally wraps around your waist when you walk together after class, the way he guides you into the frat house without a second thought, ignoring the stares, the whispers, like none of it matters as long as you’re beside him.

fratboy!jungwon who gets into fights on purpose whenever someone looks at you the wrong way, or when someone else stares a second too long, jaw tightening just enough before he moves without thinking, because control has always been his thing—but when it comes to you, it slips just slightly.

he smirks to himself when he feels the jealous stares around him when you’re together, like he knows exactly what he has, and he doesn’t hesitate to get his knuckles bloodied just because someone got a little too comfortable talking to you while he was gone for a minute.

“watch (y/n) for me, yeah?” he mutters to heeseung before lunging forward, thankful—if anything—that he decided to wear plenty of silver rings that day.

heeseung only sighs, shaking his head, though the amused, almost proud grin he exchanges with jake doesn’t go unnoticed, muttering under his breath, “kids these days.”

as fratboy!jungwon walks back like nothing happened, barely even bothered—and what makes him smile more, what really gets to him, is that you don’t look at him any differently, don’t question it, don’t scold him—the first thing you do is reach for his hand, brows soft with concern as you ask, “do you need a band-aid?” and just like that, all the tension in him melts.

fratboy!jungwon who doesn’t even give you the chance to refuse his invitations to their frat parties—the same parties he meticulously plans during meetings with his frat brothers, already thinking three steps ahead—including you, already coordinating your matching outfits in his head as he casually explains it to you like it’s already decided.

“we should go with red and black this time,” he says, voice thoughtful as his fingers lace with yours.

“i got you this wine red lace dress a few days ago, remember?” he trails off slightly, more to himself now than to you—“maybe i could wear a red leather jacket…”

then he glances back at you, eyes soft but expectant, “what do you think, baby?”

you only shake your head, feigning annoyance as you drag him toward his car, “what makes you think i’m even going?” but jungwon’s quick—always quick—gently pulling you back, hands settling around your waist as he leans down just slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.

“because i told sunoo to cancel his plans with you on friday so both of you could come,” pausing just long enough before adding with a quiet scoff, “he’s an annoying little shit anyway, he keeps stealing you from me.”

fratboy!jungwon who always has an arm around you as he leads you through the chaos of his own party, guiding you toward a quieter corner like he’s done this a hundred times before. the frat house already packed inside and out, people crowding near the pool—something jay very clearly warned against unless they wanted to deal with him later, because he refused to call the housekeepers just to clean up someone’s mess.

the flashing strobe lights replace the main ones, casting everything in neon hues that make the whole place feel more like a club than a frat house, music loud enough to shake the walls as you laugh beside him, watching sunoo try—and fail—to snatch his beer bottle back from sunghoon, who only does it to mess with him.

jungwon takes a slow sip of his whiskey before raising his voice over the music, “can you two at least break that outside? i don’t need broken bottles on my damn floor.”

that only earns a wider grin from sunghoon as sunoo curses loudly, already chasing after him, “oh, for fuck’s sake, jungwon!”

jungwon just laughs, looking back down at you with the same amused smile. even with your heels giving you height, he still leans closer when you mutter, “you’re such a menace.”

he doesn’t deny it—just dips down slightly to press a soft kiss to your lips, the faint taste of whiskey lingering—pulling back with a small grin as he murmurs, “you love me for it”

you hadn’t exactly planned on finishing the bottle, but with the looming threat of exams finally behind you and no morning lectures to sober up for, the champagne went down a little too easy. now, you were far gone—hazy, heavy-lidded, and prone to dissolving into giggles at things that weren't even funny.

the sound bubbled past your lips again when fratboy!jungwon backed you against his bedroom door, his mouth crashing onto yours with a desperate kind of hunger.

he didn’t seem to mind the way your gloss smeared across his cheek or the corner of his lips; he was too busy pinning you there, one arm braced firmly against the wood while his other hand wandered dangerously low, bunching the fabric of your dress to pull you flush against him.

away from the muffled bass of the party downstairs, the room felt stiflingly hot. you felt the cool friction of his red leather jacket under your palms as his lips trailed down your jawline, eventually settling against the sensitive skin of your throat.

he was alternating between soft, bruising sucks and sharp nips that made your eyes roll back to the back of your head. your head fell back, fingers clutching the leather of his shoulders for some kind of leverage, and you swallowed back a whine that caught in your chest.

jungwon pulled back just an inch, his breath hot against your skin as he let out a low, rough grunt of disapproval. he tilted his head, eyes dark and focused entirely on you, “don’t quiet down now,” he murmured, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “i wanna hear that pretty voice of yours, baby.”

you didn’t know how it got to this point, but all you could remember were articles of your clothing being thrown haphazardly onto the carpeted floor, your heels somewhere in the dimly lit room. your dress was bunched down at your waist as the soft, expensive sheets of fratboy!jungwon’s bed overtook your senses.

the room felt like it was spinning, the distant thump of bass from the party downstairs vibrating through the walls, but it all faded into nothing compared to the raw, pounding rhythm of jungwon’s hips slamming against yours.

his cock stretched you wide, dragging along every sensitive ridge inside your clenching pussy with each brutal thrust, the wet sounds of skin slapping skin echoing louder than the music. you could feel every inch of him—thick, veined, pulsing with heat—as he buried himself to the hilt, his balls smacking against your ass with a lewd, rhythmic tap that made your toes curl.

“fuck, look at you,” jungwon growled low in his throat, his voice rough and breathless as he pulled back just enough to watch your face contort in ecstasy. his dark eyes locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with lust, sweat dripping from his brow onto your flushed skin.

he shifted his weight, one hand pinning your thigh harder against your chest to keep you folded beneath him, exposing you completely.

the new angle let him grind deeper, his tip nudging that sweet spot inside you that sent sparks exploding behind your eyelids. “taking my cock so well, like you were made for it. those pretty nails scratching me up—yeah, just like that, baby. mark me. show everyone downstairs who owns this pussy now.”

your breath hitched, a desperate whine spilling from your lips as his words sank in, fueling the fire coiling tight in your belly. the pain from your nails raking down his flexed biceps mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, making your walls flutter around him, sucking him in greedier with every plunge.

“j-jungwon… oh god, it's too much,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a sob as tears of pure bliss welled up in your eyes. but even as you said it, your hips bucked up to meet his, chasing the friction, the fullness that had you teetering on the edge.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as it pressed against your heaving breasts, his thumb circling your nipple roughly before pinching it hard enough to make you yelp.

“too much? nah, you can take it. i paid for those nails just so you could dig ‘em into me while i fuck you senseless.” leaning down, he nipped at your earlobe, hot breath fanning over your neck littered with his possessive bites. “tell me how it feels, baby. tell me how my cock’s ruining this tight little pussy.”

the demand sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you, your body arching off the sheets as he snapped his hips forward again, harder, faster, the carpet muffling the creak of the bedframe. “it—ah! it feels so good, won… so deep,” you stammered, your words tumbling out in a rush between moans.

your hands clutched at his shoulders now, nails biting into the muscle there, leaving crescent-shaped indents that made him hiss in approval. the expensive sheets twisted beneath you, damp with sweat, clinging to your skin as the cool air of the room contrasted sharply with the scorching heat where your bodies connected.

jungwon’s pace didn’t let up—if anything, it quickened, his grunts growing more animalistic as he chased his own release, but he was relentless in drawing yours out first. “that’s it, scream for me. let the whole fucking frat hear how i’m splitting you open.”

he captured your mouth again, the kiss messy and devouring, teeth clashing as his tongue mimicked the thrust of his cock. saliva trailed from the corner of your lips when he pulled away, only to spit inside, watching with a smug grin as you swallowed eagerly, your throat working visibly.

“good fucking girl,” he praised, voice dripping with condescension that only made you clench tighter around him. his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit swollen and slick, rubbing firm circles that had your vision blurring.

the dual assault—his cock pounding relentlessly, hitting that spot over and over, and his skilled fingers working you—pushed you closer, the pressure building like a storm about to break. “cum for me, baby. soak my dick. i wanna feel you gush all over me while i breed this pussy.”

you were lost, utterly consumed, your whimpers turning into full-throated cries as the orgasm crashed over you. your walls spasmed wildly around his thrusting cock, milking him as waves of pleasure ripped through you, your body trembling violently beneath his.

“jungwon! fuck, yes—i’m cumming!” the words tore from your throat, raw and desperate, as you scratched fresh lines down his back, the pain spurring him on.

he groaned deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his thrusts grew erratic, hips stuttering. “shit, that’s it… so tight, baby. gonna fill you up—mark you from the inside.”

with a final, powerful thrust, he came, hot spurts of cum flooding your pussy, coating your walls as he rode out his release, grinding deep to push every drop inside. his body shuddered against yours, breaths ragged, but even in the aftershocks, his grip on you didn’t loosen—he held you close, possessive, as if he never planned to let go.

fratboy!jungwon who leans his forehead against yours after tiring you out, breath still uneven but softer now. he presses slow, lingering kisses across your cheeks just to hear those quiet giggles spill out of you. your hands come up to cup his face, thumbs brushing lightly over his skin, but jungwon is quicker.

one of his hands slides over yours, turning it gently so he can press a soft kiss against your palm, holding it there for a second longer than needed while maintaining the softest eye contact he can manage—something uncharacteristically gentle in his gaze.

you smile at him, brushing his hair away from his eyes, and he just melts into it, leaning in again to press a soft peck against your lips, barely there—but it’s followed by a quiet, almost mumbled: “i love you,”

fratboy!jungwon carefully excuses himself afterward, making sure you’re settled properly on his bed first. he pulls the covers over you for a moment before disappearing into the bathroom. when he comes back out, he’s in nothing but his boxers, a few damp towels in hand. he kneels beside you again, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before he starts cleaning you up. his movements are slow, careful.

soft apologies escape under his breath every time you so much as wince. “i’m sorry, baby… just a little more, okay?” his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it, almost worried as he glances up at you, “i didn’t hurt you too much, did i?”

you have to reassure him, soft words, small kisses pressed against his jaw, fingers brushing his hair back as he focuses on taking care of you.

fratboy!jungwon who dresses you just as carefully afterward, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realizes your dress isn’t ruined, no stains, no damage—but the marks he left? yeah, he’s definitely proud of those, the faint smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes linger a little too long on your neck and chest, earning an exasperated eye roll from you as he casually drapes his red leather jacket over your shoulders so it matches your outfit, leaving himself in his black button-down, unbuttoned far too low—but he doesn’t care, not when your lipstick marks are still visible across his skin, something he has absolutely no intention of wiping off, at least not until the party’s over.

fratboy!jungwon who sits with you on his lap by the pool, holding you just enough to keep you comfortable, one hand resting lazily on your thigh while the other grips a bottle of beer, both of you illuminated by the soft glow of pool lights and the fairy lights you practically begged him to put up earlier, the atmosphere calmer out here compared to the chaos inside as you chat with sunoo lounging nearby.

while jungwon half-listens, half-argues with heeseung about something as stupid as ramen preferences, the conversation getting mildly heated until heeseung eventually sighs and excuses himself to grab more drinks from inside—and that’s when jungwon’s attention shifts, eyes flickering toward the open back door across the pool, landing on a face he immediately recognizes.

fratboy!jungwon who smirks—slow, wide, completely egoistic—the moment he sees him. the same guy he beat to become president of the frat. the same guy who lost everything that night because he was too cocky, too careless. and now… the same guy who thinks jungwon ‘stole’ you from him, even if you never once acknowledged him the way he wanted you to.

and the look on his face now? pure, burning anger, eyes dragging over you sitting comfortably on jungwon’s lap, over the jacket around your shoulders, over the lipstick stains spread across jungwon’s chest.

jungwon just drinks it in, unbothered, amused even, taking a slow sip of his beer without breaking eye contact before casually lifting his hand to flip him off—subtle but intentional.

he leans down to press a soft kiss to your head like nothing happened, when you glance up at him, clueless, he only murmurs lowly, “keep talking to sunoo, baby.”

his voice is calm—but his eyes were sharp, victorious—because in the end, it’s always the same with yang jungwon: he gets what he wants, and he never loses.

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified @ateez-atiny380 @chemiru @eleftheriance @deluluscenarios @simp4simlee @baedreamverse @lala-loopsydoll @elairah @my-neurodivergent-world @jakeyismine @laylasbunbunny @zealouscookierebeltrash @beaepa @jazz7gnab @all4moi @riddlerloveb0t @angelhyuka @saraabbas @candidupped @rikisblog @vanillakirstein @heekeufrvr

© 2026 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[lac4ygal]

KRAZY RICH KOREANS a 양정원, 이희승, 박성훈 fanfiction

Seoul’s boxing world is all champagne, flashing cameras, and designer suits — at least on the surface. Beneath it, the Shim empire was built on blood dressed up as luxury: violence, dirty money, underground fights. Men powerful enough to bury bodies and call it business. And you belong to the worst of them. As the daughter of Shim Group’s CEO, you’ve spent your entire life playing the role expected of you — untouchable, elegant, useful. But when YANG JUNGWON , a gifted fighter with bruised knuckles and quiet honesty, crashes into your world from Mapo-gu, and LEE HEESEUNG — heir to your family’s greatest enemy — starts pulling at secrets meant to stay buried, the carefully controlled life you’ve built begins to unravel. All while PARK SUNGHOON , your oldest and most familiar mistake, knows every ugly part of you that nobody else gets to see. The deeper the three of them pull you in, the harder it becomes to separate love from manipulation, loyalty from possession, and truth from performance. And when the truth finally surfaces, someone will bleed for it. Maybe everyone will.

featuring; yangjungwon x leeheeseung x parksunghoon x female!reader

estimated word count!! (Ongoing)

themes! legacy as a prison , performance vs reality , love as consumption , class disparity , power imbalance , manipulation , violence hidden under beauty , the fantasy of escape , moral corruption , loneliness

content warnings for each chapter will be stated before. the following work is a work of fanfiction and does not reflect the personalities, thoughts and actions of the real people. this fanfiction will alternate between five different POVS including; reader, jungwon, heeseung, sunghoon and jake.

fic taglist is open just comment below for a tag

note…

KRAZY RICH KOREANS MASTERLIST !

chapter 000 - MAPO-GU

chapter 001 - RINGSIDE

chapter 002 - FASHIONABLY LATE

chapter 003 - FAVOURITE

chapter 004 - TERITORY

chapter 005 - DEAL THE DECK

more to come…

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @yuudaiinhs @urlocalengene @woninlove @n4n4files @jimineepaboya @grdientlips @hooniluhv @afanok @engenewilstaykon @seungiesdoll @rinforu @isa942572 @ride-a-nishimura @florarua @baedreamverse @softblaqn @rikisloverrr @kittyvalr @ellushic @dimples264493 @kimmm02 @kiwicup @jakebitez @mystgene @baek-some-cake @betagalactose @kookiesnkim @honeyvelvetinez @violetteaismyfavourite @meowza1 @abbyssful @yandere-stories @imminentcodexcore @mlink64 @k4y-sh @rubadubdubinthetub @jungwno @k3nza @simjakeyjake @heeseungdada @bbrianawhatt @onlyifusayyesxx @mintchocoddeonut @sillycactus143 @heexyzy @wonkiipiilled @sugarcwtie @alleiraa

[bunhrtd]

𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘, 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 (𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚)

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 ' 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾 !

ᦸ 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 🧁 𝑓. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ‎ ‎ ‎ ⠀˃̵ᴗ˂̵⠀ 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗒 ⠀ 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 ⠀ 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝖿é 𝖺𝗎 ⠀ ⠀ 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 “𝗄𝖺𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽-𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖺!” ㅤ 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 & 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌

Every single badge you own is proof of something.

The academic excellence pin fastened neatly to your blazer proves that you rank first in the grade. The gold plaques displayed inside the gymnasium prove that you’re the MVP of every sports team you join. Certificates stacked carefully in folders at home prove that you volunteer regularly at the local library, participate in student council activities, attend leadership seminars during school holidays. 

You learned pretty early on that being smart was safer. If you did everything right, if your work was always perfect, no one bothered to look any deeper than the surface.

It worked well enough. At least until you started working at Café Maid Latte.

The café feels almost offensively incompatible with the person you spent years constructing at school.

The uniforms are absolutely ridiculous. Pinned up like a doll, your outfit consists of lace-trimmed aprons tied neatly at the waist, little satin ribbons fastened carefully beneath your collarbone, and white cuffs buttoned delicately around your wrists. Your manager insists the curled eyelashes and glossy lips are “part of the experience,” which sounds vaguely threatening every time he says it. 

The entire experience has been nothing short of humiliating.

Still, the pay is good.

You’re fixing your lip gloss in the reflection of the glass dessert displays when the bell above the café door chimes. Your eyes perk up automatically, your voice purring like cotton candy melting on the tongue.

“Welcome home, mast—”

The rest dies in your throat.

Because Heeseung has just walked in.

At the mere sight of him, you experience a rush of loathing so pure and visceral it feels akin to wonder. His uniform blazer is completely damp from the rain outside, his dark hair tousled and falling slightly beneath his eyebrows. He pauses near the entrance, gaze moving lazily across the café before landing directly on you.

Heeseung smiles with one side of his mouth, an expression so insincere you would rather he scowl. Heat shoots up in your face. You can sense Heeseung’s quiet glee, his delight at your embarrassment.

Of course, Heeseung would find this amusing.

Everybody knew Heeseung. He was the most well-known guy on campus for more reasons than one. He knows he has the kind of charm that can get him away with almost anything or anyone he wants.

That was precisely the problem.

He’s loud, obnoxious, carelessly arrogant… and undeniably attractive. His ego is enormous — genuinely, impressively unbearable — and somehow nobody else seems to notice. Or worse, they do notice and simply don’t care.

He skips class constantly, usually only appearing on exam days because he claims lectures are “boring” and insists he can learn perfectly fine from reading slides and textbooks alone. Infuriatingly enough, he’s right. All the teachers complain about his attendance while simultaneously handing back his test papers with near-perfect scores circled neatly at the top in red. 

Worst of all, Heeseung knows exactly what he’s doing.

You can see it now in the way his gaze drifts slowly over you, soaking you in all your glory.

To the lace-trimmed apron tied around your waist. Then the ridiculous little maid headband pinned carefully to your hair. Then back to your maroon complexion again.

“No,” you immediately say.

He lifts an eyebrow incredulously. “No?”

“You didn’t see anything.”

A quiet laugh escapes from his lips, like he’s trying not to make it obvious how entertained he is. “I’m pretty sure I did.”

Like a walking heart attack in heels, you walk over to him, grabbing his sleeve, and leading him away from the noise of the café to an empty table tucked in the back corner, where it’s quiet and out of sight.

“You need to leave,” you hiss quietly, shoving him into a seat.

He leans back casually, stretching one arm along the back of the chair like he has all the time in the world. “Why?”

“Because this is really humiliating,” you say flatly, glancing over your shoulder instinctively to make sure none of your co-workers has realised your absence. 

His smile widens even further. “You think this is humiliating?”

You cross your arms, your sparkly lips forming a pout. “Yes.”

“I think it’s cute.”

Your eye twitches. “Nothing about this is cute.”

“See, that’s where we disagree.”

You blink up at him, lashes thick and fake. The silence between you two stretches for too long, and you become painfully aware of how small this corner is. Of how close he is. Of how he looks too calm. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Stop sitting like that,” you say sharply.

You most definitely had a sweet face but a sharp tongue. Heeseung always knew that. He blinks once. “Like what?”

“Like you belong here.”

A beat passes.

Then his mouth curves slightly upwards. “I do belong here. I’m a customer. And I have to say I won’t be leaving a good review. You haven’t even taken my order yet.”

The absurdity of it almost makes you scoff, but it gets caught somewhere in your throat before it can fully form. Instead, what comes out is much harsher.

“You are a problem,” you correct him immediately.

The words bubble out of your mouth before you can stop them. It’s a tone that has worked on teachers, teammates, club presidents—anyone who gets in the way of the version of you at school. And all this has proven so far is how Heeseung has collapsed your school identity and maid identity into one. 

Heeseung remains entirely at ease, as though nothing about this interaction has unsettled him in the slightest. Then, as if deciding not to push further (for now), he finally leans back in his chair again, the tension in the space easing just slightly.

“Then I’ll order,” he says matter-of-factly.

You hesitate for half a second too long before nodding, turning away before he can see anything else slip through your expression. You make it without really thinking, like your hands already know what to do. After months here, it feels like second nature.

The soft sponge cake gets cut into neat layers, and cream is spread in between with a steady hand. Strawberries are washed, sliced thin, and placed carefully on top. A drizzle of thick syrup goes over everything, coating it deliciously. You finish with whipped cream piped in small swirls along the top.

It ends up looking like something too adorable to eat. The dessert sits in front of him, too cute for someone who has been nothing but loud and unbothered since the moment he walked in.

For once, Heeseung doesn’t speak immediately. He just looks at it. And then at you. And looks at it again.

“…For me?” he asks, his voice dropping slightly.

You don’t let yourself hesitate for long. “Yes. Eat it and leave.”

That gets a small laugh out of him. He takes the spoon anyway, digging into the dessert.

“…You made this?” he asks, whip cream staining the corner of his mouth. You fight the urge to reach over and swipe it away with the touch of your thumb.

“It’s a café,” you shrug. “We all make it technically.”

“Mm.” 

He finishes more slowly than he needs to, like he’s dragging the moment out without wanting to admit it. When he finally stands up, the chair legs scrape lightly against the floor. He pauses at the counter instead of leaving straight away.

“I’ll come back,” he says simply, like he’s already decided it to be true.

Your brows knit together. “Don’t. Please.”

Your pleading makes him chuckle again. “Too late.”

Then he leaves. The bell above the door chimes softly behind him, the downpour swallowing him up almost immediately.

And you stay there behind the register for a moment longer than you should, staring blankly at the space he just occupied, wondering why it suddenly feels like something got left behind that wasn’t the dessert.

[simjakedly]

mark me yours - l.hs

— a spin-off from love me (k)not

main masterlist | part 2 | part 3

synopsis. heeseung loves omegas, but he doesn’t believe in mates—especially fated ones. that kind of destiny is reserved for people like riki and jay. but then he meets you. and the first thing you ask him to do is scent-mark you: an intimate activity shared only between mates. a spin-off from love me (k)not!

pairing. alpha!heeseung x omega!female reader

genre(s). omegaverse, fated mates, strangers-to-lovers, fluff, angst

warnings. slightly suggestive, fated mates-coded, power imbalance, unjust system and society, harassment against omegas (not by heeseung), &team cameo but they're assholes here sorry! i love them though dw, mating mark, scent-marking, heeseung is a dominant alpha, and a bigger asshole i fear, reader is a cheerleader, alpha!jay being our target again (sorry), alpha!riki, alpha!sunghoon, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, sunoo is bi, heeseung is also bi, this omegaverse is partly made up by me! but it’s just a tiny portion of it just to keep the plot going, denial, rejection, angst, not beta read we die like injang, please let me know if i missed anything!

word count. 21,280 words

note. please read this before proceeding 🤎 everything here is purely fictional and it has nothing to do with the members as a person outside of this fanfiction 🤎 also idk how cheerleading works so pls bear with me...

In a private booth of a nightclub, a group of long-legged, broad-shouldered alphas huddle around the table, drinks in hands. The air is layered with pheromones and adrenaline, occasionally flashing with neon lights and blurred with thin smoke. 

In the middle of the couch, Heeseung sits leisurely, manspreading with ease. On either side of him, Jay and Riki lean back in a similar posture, each of them engaged in the conversation bouncing between the team.

The team has just won a friendly match against their long-sworn rival, a university from the east, after a frustrating streak of loss for two consecutive tournaments. It wasn’t really a landslide win, considering their competitive skills, but a win is a win. A satisfied smirk curls around Heeseung’s bow-shaped lips, his alpha purring with pride.

Friendly or not, the whiskey surely tastes extra sweet tonight.

“Did you see K’s face just now?” Riki pipes up from his left, still buzzing with adrenaline. Being the last man to score and secure the win for them, it’s obviously hard for Riki to contain his enthusiasm. He’s beaming wide. “I did that. I wiped that smirk off his face, gentlemen!”

The rest of the team roars in reply, infected by Riki’s contagious excitement. Heeseung and Jay wear a fond smile on their lips, clearly delighted to see the younger alpha’s happiness. Glasses clink again as they toast to their win, and to their future wins, and to the sexy, beautiful cheerleading omegas that played a part in keeping their spirits up just now—to which Jay grimaces and Riki rolls his eyes at. Heeseung snorts.

He forgets that he’s friends with a prude and a loyal, claimed alpha.

“Speaking of omegas,” Heeseung tilts his head at Riki when the chatters break into small groups of conversations among the team, leaving him to talk to two of his closest friends. “It’s a surprise to see you here, Ki. Like seeing a four-leaf clover.”

Jay joins in, his signature lopsided grin on display. “I half-expected you to run home to your girlfriend. It’s hard to see you hang out with us at the club now, pup.”

Riki crosses his arms with a dramatic huff. His bottom lip juts out in a pout. In this light, when Riki shows this side of him, free from fake nonchalance and his cool persona, Heeseung sees him ten years younger than his actual age. Riki is so cute.

“I fully expected to run home to her too, hyung. But she forced me to come here. Said something like I should celebrate my win with y’all,” Riki sighs, messing with his newly-dyed hair and tipping his head back. “So here I am. Drinking with you idiots when I could’ve cuddled with my sweet, sweet omega at home.”

Jay feigns offence while Heeseung laughs. The both of them know too well of Riki’s devotion to his girlfriend. Maybe it’s the alpha-omega bond, or just the fact that they’ve known each other practically their whole lives, but Riki is never at ease whenever she’s not around. 

But tonight, the alpha seems more relaxed than usual. He’s not playing with his fingers or toying with the hem of his shirt like he always did when his girlfriend is absent. Heeseung wonders why the sudden change until he catches a glimpse of something at the back of Riki’s neck.

His brows furrow. His movement falters mid-air.

“Riki? Is that…” Heeseung squints his eyes, trying to see better while the tips of Riki’s ears slowly redden. From his right, Heeseung can hear a soft gasp from Jay.

“Holy shit. Is that your mating mark, Ki?”

It is. It is a mating mark, Heeseung realises, when a purple neon light flashes on Riki’s wounded skin. The alpha is rubbing his neck sheepishly now, heat sweeping across his cheeks. Despite his sudden shy demeanour, Heeseung can smell the pride in his sandalwood scent, and in that moment he finally notices the subtle layer of sweet vanilla—Riki’s girlfriend’s scent—in Riki’s pheromones.

“Yeah,” Riki confirms, still red like a tomato. “I mated with her last night.”

“Wow,” Jay breathes out in amazement, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “About time, man! You’re finally mated!”

Jay’s exclamation attracts attention and soon, the whole group is congratulating Riki on the milestone. The said alpha is red down to his neck now, clearly not expecting the sudden shift of focus on him but still relishing in the pride of having his mating mark, if the musky lilt to his pheromones is anything to go by. 

Heeseung remains a quiet observer, watching as Riki pulls down the collar of his shirt to proudly show the mark. Two other alphas join him as they speak fondly of their omegas, relishing in their identical mating mark on their napes. Beside him, Jay listens with an adoring smile. There’s a certain longing in his gaze when he stares at the mated alphas that doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung. 

Heeseung averts his eyes away, trying to forget that familiar look on Jay’s face. He almost scoffs at the image.

He knows that look like the back of his hand. 

Jay, too, yearns for a mate. Like Riki. Unlike Heeseung.

Mate. It’s the word that is so common in omegaverse but so foreign in Heeseung’s little world.

If Jay is a walking green flag that effortlessly attracts omegas with his gentleman charms, Heeseung is a running red flag that chases after willing omegas. If Jay stays away from wild sex life, Heeseung lives by it. If Jay dates to marry, Heeseung fucks to breathe. He’s everything Jay’s not that Riki was so bewildered when the two first met him.

Don’t get him wrong—he’s not the creepy kind of chaser. Rather, he likes to call himself the sexy one. It’s not hard for him to pull; just a few flirty comments here and a couple of filthy whispers there and the next hour he’ll have an omega to bring home and under him. 

He doesn’t know if he’s the only one wired this way, but where territorial instincts stream in his alpha blood, his sexual desires run even harder and faster. It’s like an itch that just won’t get away if he doesn’t scratch at it. He’s an attractive alpha with a high sex drive, he admits it, but is he really wrong to accept any omegas with his long, eager arms?

He thinks not.

Plus, they’re omegas. Heeseung tries not to objectify them, but gosh, the scent wafting from them is always so sweet and inviting. They’re curved softly, meant to hold and love the right, physical way that he’s known how to. He’s a weak man, and an even weaker alpha; Heeseung can’t resist a good fuck between two consenting adults and he always, always consents to being sucked off dry and scratched to bleed. 

Fuck, just thinking about it is already making him excited.

Heeseung’s eyes wander, tuning out the conversation about mate as he scans for any attractive omega. It’s starting to bore him—the talk about mate and having a mate and being mated—so he’s entertaining himself with the exposed skin and swaying hips of dancing omegas on the dance floor.

For someone like him that gets off on having sex with omegas and being drunk on their sweet pheromones, mating culture is a big no for him. The idea of being tied to only one omega makes him laugh; it sounds ridiculous to him. He’s an alpha capable of giving and his knot is not limited to only one hole, so why should he settle?

Only hopeless-romantic alphas believe in the belief of fated mates. And unfortunately, two of his friends do. Heeseung mentally rolls his eyes.

He decides that he’s had enough when the mated alphas start talking about having pups; another commitment that makes goosebumps rise in his skin. Wordlessly, he places his shot glass on the table, having sipped only half of it throughout the night. 

“Leaving already?” Jay asks, craning his neck when Heeseung stands. The latter only cocks his head to the dance floor with a knowing look. The corner of his mouth curves into a playful smirk when Jay makes a face.

“The usual.”

Jay shakes his head. “Whatever. Just don’t do it raw.”

“I’m always clean and safe, Jongseong.” Heeseung retorts, already taking his leave. “Call me when you’re leaving.”

Whatever Jay replies is muffled by the loud bass and Heeseung couldn’t care less to know what the alpha has said. Probably throwing him insults for using him as his personal chauffeur again. Heeseung only shrugs. Jay’s not his concern tonight. He has a bigger fish, or rather, a pretty wolf, to catch.

His eyes sweep across the space. From where he’s standing, his nose can pick up different scents of alphas and omegas. Even the faint scent of betas are visible, usually amplified by alcohol and adrenaline. He’s still deciding between two male omegas throwing asses back on the dance floor and a group of female omegas giggling at a table not far from him when a spiked scent stabs at his senses.

His nose instantly scrunches, frowning as he tries to detect that smell. An omega in distress. It’s faint, coming from the direction of the exit door, but he can’t see anyone crying or visibly uncomfortable in his line of sight.

Heeseung looks around, momentarily distracted from his initial mission. Nobody seems to notice the scent, however, and Heeseung blames his dominant traits for this. He sometimes forgets that he’s a dominant alpha. Unlike Jay and Riki, his senses are more sensitive and developed, which is a blessing when he’s looking for a hookup and a curse when he’s inside the locker room after a game when the air is drenched in his teammates’ pheromones. Heeseung shudders at the memories. He’s always the first to shower and leave the room because only Riki smells good when sweating.

His thoughts are brought back when the scent intensifies. Heeseung keeps sniffing and blindly follows the trail of wilting daisies and burnt honey, his shoulders braced and jaw tense. He doesn’t know why, but the scent has awakened his senses to a new degree. His alpha is on full alert now. 

He passes by dancing bodies and tables to get to the exit door but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. Heeseung looks down.

A soft, seductive voice reaches his ears. “Heeseung-ssi?”

Heeseung blinks at the smiling omega. After a second of stunned silence, he finally recognises the logo on her varsity jacket and the makeup on her face. Realisation dawns upon him.

She’s part of his college’s cheerleader squad.

The omega is running a hand up and down his arm now, arching her back to flaunt the soft swell of her chest. Behind her, her fellow cheerleaders watch closely, hiding eager smiles behind their palms. Heeseung looks down at her hand, gulping despite himself. 

“Spare me a few minutes, will you, my precious, capable alpha?”

Her voice is so enticing, dripping with the kind of allure Heeseung’s so much familiar with. There is a strong wave of her sweet scent—bubblegum and cotton candy, Heeseung notes—coming from her in full force. She’s fluttering her lashes now, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Heeseung does; oh does he get the message so well. He knows what she’s hinting on and on any other nights he’ll succumb to the temptation without putting any efforts to think, melting into a puddle of juices at the slightest touch of seductive omegas. It’s a no-brainer decision for him, usually, because he’s always ready to fuck and he always brings a pack of condom with him for this sole reason.

But tonight his wolf is restless. And the reason is none other than the bitter scent still clinging to his nose.

Heeseung gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and removes her hand from his arm. The omega frowns, brows almost uniting at the center when the alpha takes a step back.

“Next time, yeah?”

Without waiting for her reply, Heeseung slips away from the crowd, ignoring the sour turn of her pheromones. He can feel their eyes boring into his back, but that’s not his concern now. Following the haunting scent and the sudden flaring instincts to get closer to the owner of it, Heeseung lets his legs bring him closer to the exit door. 

Heeseung hates to admit it, but right now, his wolf is thrashing at the bitter scent and his chest feels like caving in. He can feel the itch in his nails; his claws are threatening to sharpen. He frowns.

He’s never reacted this way to any omegas in distress. So why now? Why this particular scent?

When he reaches the door, Heeseung doesn’t waste a second to push it open and steps outside. As he does so, a weight suddenly crashes into his chest, pushing him slightly backwards from the force.

“Oof—” 

Heeseung reaches up to steady the figure by the arms. At this sudden proximity, the scent is thicker, the wilting daisies are more prominent it's making his heart constrict. Heeseung lets out a deep exhale and looks down to the person practically in his arms. 

A female omega. Clearly in distress, judging by the unshed tears and the tremble in her lips. A familiar varsity jacket drapes across her frame and Heeseung feels his breath stop when he recognises that face.

It’s you. One of the cheerleaders. Heeseung knows many cheerleaders, having been in bed with most of them; but even the most forgetful alpha will remember an omega like you.

A sweet face with a sweeter scent to match, but you are always detached from alphas and their advances. You’re the shy cheerleader his teammates always talk about. The untouchable one. The politely-smile-and-then-reject omega. Heeseung remembers you too well, being one of those rejected alphas himself.

He still remembers how disappointed his wolf was, whining and pouting when a pretty omega he had his eyes on rejected him. But Heeseung is a respectful alpha. He’ll take a no as a no. And you were also so kind when doing so that he moved on from it pretty fast and well.

That was one year ago.

Now you’re crying in his arms, for whatever reasons he doesn’t know and is determined to find out. He can feel your hold on his arms tighten, the spike in your scent when you recognise him, and the hitch in your breath that follows. The bitter scent is definitely coming from you.

“H-Heeseung?” Your voice is so small, like you’re not sure if you can call his name. It’s shaky and breathless. “Please help me.”

Behind you, Heeseung can see three shadows entering the alleyway. Even from the distance, his nose immediately picks up the pheromones of aroused alphas; thick and unpleasant. Your scent lingers amidst the stench, wavering in fear, so heavy he can practically taste it on his tongue. Heeseung instinctively pulls you closer.

“Are they bothering you?”

You nod frantically, the tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. When you speak, your voice is wet from tears and fear.

Nothing can ever prepare Heeseung for the words that are about to leave your mouth.

“P-Please…Please scent me.” You sob, clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt tighter. Heeseung’s breath stutters. “Please, Heeseung.”

Scent-mark. A low rumble sounds from his chest.

You’re asking him to mark you. To…claim you. It’s basically you asking him to bond with you, to shower you with his pheromones and make you smell like him. Smell like you’re his.

This is not what Heeseung’s looking forward to tonight. The fantasy of saving an omega in distress and scent-marking belongs to Jay, an alpha that was even willing to help an omega in heat out of the goodness of his heart. But not Heeseung. That’s never Heeseung. Heeseung doesn’t play the hero; he’s the one stealing the female lead from them.

Scent-marking is way…too intimate to share between two complete strangers with no interaction—that is, if you consider being rejected to having sex together as zero interaction.

Heeseung looks between you and the shadows closing in, then licks his lips. “I can’t,” he tries, and the broken look on your face damn near makes his heart take the same fate. Heeseung schools his expression, forcing himself to push you slightly away from him.

“I—This is not right. You don’t want this.”

He can’t take advantage of you. This is just your scared omega speaking. Outside of this situation, he’s damn sure you’d refuse any kind of bonds with him. Heeseung might be a sex addict, but he’s not an asshole.

But you pull him with you, shaking your head as you keep taking a glance at the approaching alphas. “I do! Please,” you choke, failing to keep your voice steady as you plead at the alpha in front of you. Heeseung forces restraint to his instincts. “Please just scent-mark me, Heeseung. I-I can’t—They will—” You heave a deep breath, your scent taking a sourer lilt at his refusal.

“They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.”

Something sharp stabs at his chest, rendering him speechless and frozen for a moment. Heeseung stares at your trembling figure, at your shrinking body as if to make yourself disappear, and it suddenly hits him how disgusting the whole situation is.

They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.

Alphas only take a no when it comes from another alpha.

Heeseung feels nauseous. His throat closes in and there’s a quiet ringing in his ears. In that heavy, stilled silence, everything is muffled to his senses. Only the echoes of your words ripple in his mind.

Unless it’s another alpha.

It’s a hard pill to swallow; one that Heeseung finds it bitter to believe—because it’s so, so easy to walk away from omegas than force yourself on them. It’s so, so easy to shoot your pride down than dwell on it and go feral over a rejection. It’s so, so easy to respect an omega, even for a fuckboy like him, so why is it hard for other alphas to do so?

And the result of this harsh world, of this fucked up power imbalance is sobbing in his arms, shaking and forcing herself to be okay with an unwanted bond just to save herself. Heeseung’s heart breaks for you, for the fate that follows a beautiful being like you just because of secondary genders and because the world says so.

“Please, I-I don’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Heeseung whispers, rubbing a soothing circle on your arms. Your crying subsides a fraction. “I’ll scent you if that makes you feel better. Is that…okay?”

You blink at him tearily, streaks of salty tears tainting your unblemished cheeks. Even with a swollen face, you still look as pretty as he remembers.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, taking a hold of your wrist when he senses those alphas getting near. “Or we can just get inside and call the cops on them if you change your mind. You can find—”

“No,” you grip him tighter, your previously-calmed scent spiking again. “Cops are useless. T-They won’t—please, Heeseung. You know how they are.”

You know how unfair the system is.

Heeseung swallows hard before he nods, the burnt honey in your pheromones starting to get really thick and sticky. He rubs the inside of your wrists, slow and deliberate, before bringing the scent gland to his nose. It’s the most appropriate point to scent, less intimate than scenting at your neck, which he guesses the last thing you want from him right now.

The tip of his nose caresses the delicate skin tentatively, testing and tasting before he takes a deep inhale. Immediately, the scent of daisies and honey fill up his senses and Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling. There is a rush of energy bursting through his veins, his senses tingling and his wolf purring at the sweet combination of your pheromones. Heeseung feels his wolf hum, almost singing and sighing, like his muscles are unknotting in a hot spring. 

It’s strange. It’s new. But Heeseung pushes the thoughts aside.

He runs his nose over your wrist over and over again, blanketing you in his pheromones and starting to feel you relax in his arms.

The tension in your shoulders visibly disappears as you let yourself melt into Heeseung. You sigh. Heeseung’s pheromones are just like him; warm spice of cinnamon carried by cool air of sea breeze. It symbolises his fierce persona on the court and his calm demeanour when he’s out of his jersey perfectly. You lean into him further, your squirming wolf unknowingly calms down when being washed by his pheromones.

If Heeseung notices the change in your demeanour, he doesn’t say anything about it, shoving the thought to the back of his mind. His singular focus is entirely on your pulse, nosing at your wrist and pumping out his calming pheromones. When he opens his eyes, they mirror the look in yours: dazed and slightly glassy. The air is now loaded with daisies and cinnamon, intertwining with each other in a perfect, balanced mix of scent. 

Heeseung tries to ignore the loud pounding of his heart, but it’s all he can hear. He tries to ignore the stars in your eyes, but it’s all he can see. He tries to ignore how perfectly balanced the mix of your scent is with his. His grip on your wrist tightens, breath caught in his throat. His wolf refuses to let you go, wanting to keep you here, tucked safely in his embrace for as long as he can.

And that thought is so foreign and scary. He really hopes that’s just his wolf and not him.

“Hey, little bunny.” A sick, twisted voice interrupts. 

Oh, right. 

Those fucking, disgusting alphas.

Heeseung is always slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually is. But in that moment, he’s standing so tall, dominating the space around him like the air is making room for him itself. 

He instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from the hungry eyes of the approaching alphas. His shoulders are braced like they’re ready for an impact and Heeseung has to force a snarl down his throat when his eyes land on the wolves.

When the shadows step under the light, it takes less than a second for Heeseung to see the jerseys clinging to their bodies before he realises who he’s looking at. 

They’re the players from the opposing team that his team just beat tonight. 

K, EJ, and Nicholas.

Heeseung grinds his jaw so hard he might pop a vessel.

“If it’s not the mighty Lee Heeseung,” K taunts, wearing a smug smirk like a badge at the sight in front of him. He cocks his head, trying to see you over Heeseung’s shoulders. You cower. “Mind sharing your pretty little cheerleader? She’s exactly my type, shy but slutty.”

Shame spreads across your skin and you screw your eyes shut. Shy and slutty, you bite your lips. You’re nothing but a kinky fantasy for alphas like them.

As if sensing your turmoil, Heeseung stands taller, his eyes narrowing thin.

“Get lost.” Heeseung tries to hold back, but the rage he feels seeps through anyway. “And cover your gland, for fuck’s sake. You stink.”

K’s eyebrows shoot up, his grin turning cheshire. “Come on, man. Are you gatekeeping your cheerleaders?” K tries to take a peek at you, but Heeseung moves and covers you with his whole body. His frown deepens. “You had fucked her already. Don’t be greedy, captain.”

His alpha minions laugh, and Heeseung is now seeing red. Something hot spreads in his chest, burning in his vein like wildfire at the insult. Was it a hit to his ego and his shameless sexual routine? Definitely, but Heeseung never takes it to heart. Rather, it’s the way you gasp and sob into his back, shaken by the disgusting assumption of your dignity and your virginity. The storm of the ocean spikes in the air, taking his pheromones to a dangerous peak, gathering a tide to a new height.

Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever released pheromones this bad. But something about seeing the same pattern of omegas falling victim to empty-headed alphas makes his blood boil.

Behind him, you whimper, your omega reacting to the agitated alpha in front of you. But Heeseung is now relentless. He holds out an arm around your waist, protecting you from their sight in a tight, almost-possessive grip.

“Watch your fucking mouth. Don’t you get it?” Heeseung seethes, pupils thinning as the laughter dies down. “She doesn’t want you. In what fucking language must she say no for your stupid brain to understand? She’s—”

Mine. She’s mine, his wolf howls. My omega. 

Heeseung grits his teeth.

No, she’s not. Get a fucking grip, Lee Heeseung. You don’t have a mate.

“...not a toy.”

The sea-salt bite of his pheromones thickens in the alley. K scoffs, stepping forward in offense but is stopped by Nicholas. The latter has his arm shot out against K’s chest, preventing him from approaching the couple.

“No, K,” Nicholas murmurs, nose sniffing at the heavy pheromones in the air. Underneath the eye-watering spice of cinnamon and the raging storm of Heeseung’ sea breeze scent, there is a tangled sweetness of daisies and honey clinging to it. He visibly gulps. “They’re together. And Heeseung…”

Nicholas throws him a side eye, giving him a once-over briefly. He takes in the sharp glare directed his way, the downturned curl of his mouth, the tense shoulders ready to pounce. Nicholas shudders imperceptibly and shakes his head.

“…He’s a dominant alpha.”

His statement, though meant to deescalate the situation, only rages Heeseung on further. The alpha takes a menacing step forward, eyes narrowing thin at the trio. They falter back.

“Get this in your empty brains you freaks,” Heeseung grits, fuming beyond reason. Nicholas swears he sees something red flickering in his irises. 

“When someone says no, you back the fuck off. Dominant alpha or not. Omega or not.” He spits out the word, the venom in his voice nearly poisons the air. “Do you fucking get it?”

His raging pheromones are turning physical, pressing on each pair of lungs like lead on a mattress. Nicholas fights the urge to cover his nose and pulls his two friends backwards with him.

“We get it. Sorry, captain.”

“Not me,” Heeseung hisses. A low growl rumbles in warning. “Her.”

Nicholas licks his lips and nods. He bows down quickly, forcing the other alphas to bend despite it hurting his pride. K reluctantly follows, though his eyes return the glare Heeseung gives him in a similar intensity. 

“We’re sorry, omega. Shit, I don’t know your name, but—we’re sorry.”

In the next moment, the three alphas are already retreating. Nicholas aggressively whispers something among them while K visibly restrains himself from running back to Heeseung. He clearly doesn’t mind taking up a challenge with the dominant alpha and Heeseung finds himself not minding to dirty his hands too.

A beat of heavy silence falls upon you. You stay rooted in place, pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung is still facing away from you, ragged breathing slowing down. The air of dense pheromones is thinning out, leaving behind trails of spicy cinnamon and soft daisies.

You let out a breath and your knees buckle. 

Heeseung is by your side in a flash, the same, now-familiar arms caging you against his tall frame. You put your hands on his chest, trying to steady the wobble in your legs.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay now. They’re gone.”

They really are. You cry. They’re actually gone.

An ugly sob racks through your chest and soon, the wilting daisies are back, staining the air with crumpled petals and sad flowers. Heeseung tightens his hold. He doesn’t like seeing people cry, but his alpha apparently despises it the most when he sees you in this state.

His calming pheromones pour out in waves, hands carding through your hair gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

You’re safe with me.

Your crying slows down. For a few seconds, you let yourself savour the warmth of Heeseung’s  embrace. Closer, his pheromones, layered with a faint trail of his body wash, are stronger, filling up the almost-nonexistent space between the two of you. Strangely, the spice and the salt work wonders on calming you down.

Your wolf—previously anxious and distressed—is now quiet. 

Heeseung adjusts his hold on you, and in that moment do you only realise in horror how long you’ve been shamelessly hugging him. Like a reflex, you pull away from his embrace, cheeks now flaming red when his shirt is now stained with two big spots of your tears.

“I’m sorry!” Your palms instinctively rub at the stains, as if they can dry out the tears out of the fabric. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Heeseung looks down, silently watching the small of your palms against his broad chest. There’s a strange flutter that follows, quiet and unfamiliar. He hopes that you can’t feel it through the fabric.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Heeseung murmurs, eyes finding their ways back to your face. Red nose, swollen eyes, blotched cheeks. You really went through it, still sniffling as you still try to fix the stains on his shirt. A small part of him twists uncomfortably.

Heeseung catches your wrists, his thumbs moving almost instinctively against the soft skin.Your breath catches as you lift your gaze to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks, voice soft and gentle. You immediately nod, admittedly feeling better after being bathed in his calming pheromones.

“I’m okay. Just a bit thirsty.”

He searches your face, as if trying to detect any kind of discomfort or distress. But in the end, he ends up staring into your eyes, counting the lashes that guard your beautiful eyes.

It should end there. He really should just escort you back into the safety of your friend group and leave you be. Perhaps, he can go find the previous omega, seduce his way back and bring her home. The normal. The usual.

But something inside stirs in protest to that idea, and so instead he finds himself saying: “Let’s get you something to drink.”

The convenience store is bright under the dark sky, located just two blocks away from the nightclub. It’s already past one in the morning, but to the people of the night, it’s only the beginning of fun. From a distance, the queue line is only getting longer.

Beside you, Heeseung is walking on the edge of the pavement, looking out for cars despite the slow traffic. He’s been quiet since the alleyway, seemingly lost in thought. Occasionally, his hand will brush yours, a quiet graze that sends electricity in your system. You try not to react.

The convenience store is empty, save for a group of partygoers sobering up around the round table outside, leaving only a long bench beside the door empty. You stop when Heeseung does, his hand already tapping on the sensory handle.

“Wait here. I’ll buy you something to drink.”

You nod, obediently sitting down. Heeseung takes one last look at you before he enters the store, the harsh lights greeting his tired eyes. He grabs the coldest mineral water and stops in front of the necessities shelves.

Without thinking, his hand moves like it has a mind of its own, grabbing whatever his eyes land on—a heat pack, chocolate, a pack of wet tissues. It’s only when the cashier scans the items that he pauses, staring at the items with wide eyes.

Since when does he…do this?

“Anything to add, sir?”

Heeseung gulps, looks past the cashier’s head, and lands on the rows of pills behind him.

She cried too much, she might have a headache.

And so, as if on instinct, Heeseung adds paracetamol to his receipt.

Outside, the air is cooler, biting at exposed skin like a bug. Heeseung wordlessly sits beside you, placing the plastic bag on his lap. You curiously peek into the bag.

“That’s a lot. Are you hungry?”

Heeseung pauses, realisation dawns upon him. His instincts flare again. “No. Are you? Do you want ramyeon? Or packed rice? I can—”

“No! It’s fine, Heeseung,” you laugh softly, the sound like a melodious chime of a bell to his ears. “I had dinner.”

Heeseung visibly relaxes and nods. He hands you the bottle first, twisting the cap open before passing it over without a word. He watches you drink, takes the bottle from you, and gives you the heat pack next.

You blink at him. “It’s cold,” Heeseung shrugs, pulling your hand towards him and placing the heat pack on your palm. He closes your fingers over it. “This will warm you up a bit.”

For a second, you just stare at him. The warmth in your hand spreads from your fingers up to your chest, where your heart is thumping wildly at his gentle act.

You bring the heat pack to your neck, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare at him, cheeks blooming red. They put him in a trance, your eyes, as Heeseung finds himself unable to look away. His gaze then drops to your lips when they move, already clinging to every syllable without even knowing it.

“Thank you, Heeseung.”

The flutter comes back, now more frantic and aggressive than before, like a caged bird trying to escape. This time, Heeseung forces himself to look away, the plastic bag wrinkles under his tightening grip. 

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it, though.” You counter back, gazing at the passing cars as you feel a gust of chilling wind breezing through. You scoot closer to the heat beside you. “It was really scary. Thank you for helping me out.”

There’s a bitter tone, faint and subtle, to your scent, as if you’re recalling the ugly incident that just happened almost half an hour ago. Heeseung clenches his jaw. 

Before he can stop it, his pheromones spill out like soft waves, calming and comforting, cocooning you again like a safety blanket. His wolf hums in quiet satisfaction, watching the way your shoulders loosen, the tension melting off you bit by bit.

Heeseung doesn’t know when or how it happened, but there’s no gap between you now. But he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would. Here, you’re so close to him, your shoulder practically glued to his, seeking warmth from his body heat.

It’s a foreign feeling. A comfortable, foreign feeling.

You stay in that position, slowly getting drunk on his pheromones. Your eyes droop, fighting sleep, but the exhaustion from running away from scary alphas has finally caught up to you. Before you know it, your head dips against his shoulder, breath evening out as your fingers lose their grip on the heat pack. 

Heeseung swallows. He doesn’t dare move. From the proximity, he can smell your fruity hair wash, blending smoothly with your scent. 

It’s so unfair. Every inch of you smells really good, whether it’s your natural scent or the products that you use. It’s like every inch of your skin decides that you only deserve to smell the best, and Heeseung himself can’t help but agree too. It’s so unfair.

Heeseung finds his hands hover awkwardly in the air, hesitating for a second before settling carefully on your head. His fingers thread through your hair, slower this time.

“Don’t feel scared anymore,” he mumbles, gently caressing the dark strands of your hair. 

It’s me who should feel scared.

His fingers freeze in your hair. 

Scared. He is scared.

This is not him. If Riki or Jay were to walk in to see him in this state, they’d drag him to the nearest police station and demand they find the real Heeseung. The normal Heeseung. The usual Heeseung.

The Heeseung that doesn’t stay, or spend his time watching people breathe in their sleep. The Heeseung who’s out the door before the sheets even cool down. The Heeseung that dislikes small touches like these; like caressing the hair of the girl he just saved, because the only physical touch he brands himself with is sex.

Not this. Not whatever this is.

He wants to move, but his body doesn’t listen—he stays despite himself. His wolf, like it’s found something it’s been looking for all along, settles deeper instead, quiet and satisfied. You nuzzle closer into his body and Heeseung feels his chest tighten.

Something uneasy creeps up his spine.

This should feel suffocating. It should itch under his skin, make him want to pull away, shake you off, leave. 

But it doesn’t. It feels easy. Too easy, in fact.

And it scares the shit out of him.

When your senses return to you, the first thing that greets you is someone’s scent.

Warm, spicy cinnamon and calm, salty sea air.

The memory follows not long after; of angry frowns and disgusting smirks that make your skin crawl. Amidst it all, a familiar face flashes in your mind and you feel your heart stutter.

Heeseung.

The pulse in your wrist thuds violently, as if not letting you forget the owner of the pheromones now wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You faintly remember, in your subconscious, being carried to a car and your roommate, Yujin, hugging you in panic. Unconsciously, you pull your blanket closer to your chest.

Did Heeseung send you home? Did he really…scent-mark you to help you?

You bite your lips between your teeth. The clarity is palpable now that the haziness of pheromones and distress are no longer around. There’s no way an alpha—a dominant one, at that—is willing to scent-mark an omega he has no connections to. The implications are more than the action itself. Heeseung surely knows about that, right? 

It feels like a dream. It has to be a dream.

What a capable alpha, your wolf preens. Shut up, you hiss.

Then, as if the universe was insistent to prove you wrong, your eyes land on a plastic bag placed neatly on top of your vanity, a damning evidence of last night’s incident.

No way.

Your brain swirls with possibilities and your own made-up theories that it has started to throb faintly. Before you could lose your sanity, thread by unraveling thread, you rush to the bathroom to, hopefully, get rid of his scent, even when your omega begs you not to.

Unfortunately for the human-you, the cinnamon trails after you even post-showers. It clings to your clothes when you change and it doesn’t let you go even as you sit for breakfast prepared by your doting roommate. It’s strange, really. No one’s scent ever clung to you so stubbornly like this, like a chewing gum latching on shoe soles. You always cuddle with Yujin and even her green tea pheromones never stay with you after washing up.

“It’s a bit odd, yes,” Yujin munches through a mouthful of her own signature pancake. “But it’s not totally out-of-this-world. His scent will fade by this evening, I promise.”

You chew painfully slowly, eyes going wide at another possibility. “You don’t think that I conjured some kind of bond with him, right?”

It’s common knowledge that a thin, fragile bond can be easily formed when an alpha and an omega scent each other, mated or not. After all, context and intention are greatly considered, whether it’s meant for familiarity, protection, or possessiveness—each one will determine how long it’ll last.

You pull at the sleeves of your cardigan, a telltale sign of your anxiousness. The same wilting daisies accent of your scent from the night before comes back, signalling your impending distress. Yujin drops her fork and reaches a hand to yours.

“Hey, hey. Calm down for a sec, Y/N.”

“It’s just,” you swallow harshly, your traitorous mind replaying the scene from last night. Your heart thumps at the base of your throat. “I don’t know—fuck. I forced him to do this. And—and despite the circumstances, he still helped me and now…now I think…”

Your eyes turn glassy, reminded of the wolf residing deep inside you.

“I think my omega might like him.”

Yujin is silent for a moment, assessing the right words to say. It’s obvious to everyone on campus of the nature of Lee Heeseung. He’s not exactly the alpha you’d seek for companionship or commitment; he seems to be allergic to those things. 

And to get your wolf to like him…well, let’s say that you’re already set for thousand-words of angst and a life of yearning. Yujin isn’t exactly fond of the idea of dishing out what you already knew. You already seem restless enough with your own thoughts.

“Okay. That’s valid.” Yujin starts slowly, treading through every syllable like a mother to her kindergartener son. “He’s super attractive. It’s understandable. But you can, you know—unlike him.”

You perk up at that, though the doubt clouding your face is more prominent now. “How?”

“Find a better alpha,” Yujin shrugs, as if explaining the world’s simplest equation. “For the record, I do think Heeseung’s a good guy, just not in the romantic department. I don’t know why your wolf is picking a fuckboy out of all alphas, but taste is subjective.”

“It’s because he stepped up and protected me!” You deflect and pause, realising how defensive of him you have become. Yujin raises a brow and you sigh, defeated, slumping in your seat.

“Fuck. Now my omega hates you for badmouthing him.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Just kill me.”

Yujin shoots you a small smile, pushing your now-cold plate closer to you. You reluctantly take a bite. “Why not someone else, though? You could ask literally any other alpha, like—” Yujin pauses and it takes her less than a second to pick a name. “Jay. Like Jay. He’s like, the safest option, the greenest flag. But why Heeseung? And don’t tell me it’s because he was the only one there—you could’ve just barged in and found someone else. It’s a freaking nightclub.”

You freeze, unmoving for a slow second. There is, of course, an answer to that. One that you admittedly avoid to admit, because admitting it will admit that there is something underneath that only you know, and you admit that it’s scary to admit that. Fuck this admission! Yujin wouldn’t make fun of you, right?

“I…” You trail off, second-guessing your decision. Should you really tell your roommate? Seeing the eager look on her face, with her sweet, cute dimples showing up, you decide that people with dimples should be banned from this world. Promptly, you’re reminded of your junior—an alpha with Jungwon or something as his name. The both of them possessed dimples that could make any alpha (or omega) drop down to their knees.

Alas, you force yourself to tell the truth.

“I smelled him for afar.” You watch carefully for Yujin’s reaction. “Like, from outside. While I was running from those scary alphas.”

Yujin contemplates. “Did you feel some kind of a pull towards him?”

You don’t even contemplate. “Yes.” 

“Holy shit,” Yujin laughs, her grin turning giddy. “This shit is actually real?!”

“What is?!” You frown, not liking being kept in the dark. A playful punch lands on Yujin’s shoulder, who’s now throwing her head back in laughter. Unconsciously, a pout is formed on your lips.

“What is it? Tell me!”

“It’s just, there’s this joke going around,” Yujin hiccups between every inhale, “that an omega will eventually crave for his knot. I can’t believe it’s happening to you!”

The lines in your forehead deepen. You regard your roommate with a look of contempt, thinking of the best spot to hide a body.

“That’s not true. I don’t crave his knot, or whatever it is.” You sigh, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know what? I’m just gonna pretend last night didn’t happen.”

Resigned and defeated, you rise and bring your plate to the sink. Your class doesn’t start until the next three hours, and then the evening is reserved for your new routine practice for the upcoming tournament. The ninety-two unread messages from the group chat are still left unopened; you haven’t had time to review the routine video yet.

You put on your apron and reach for the cabinet. When in distress or deep thoughts, other than nesting in your bedroom, you often opt to stress-bake instead. The scent of baked goods always puts you at ease, and it blends sweetly with your daisies and honey pheromones. Everyone who knows you knows to empty their stomach and be ready for a mass sweet-feeding whenever you’re in your stressed baker mode.

Behind you, Yujin’s laughter dies in her throat. Then, a question that stops you in your tracks comes.

“Hey, you don’t think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates, right?”

Fated mates. The words settle like a heavy blanket, pressing you down with its weight and keeping you warm altogether. 

It’s sacred. It’s ancient. It’s something that you never speak of lightly, afraid that a slip of a tongue would taint the purity of such a bond. Against all odds and critiques on the concept of fated mates, you’re part of the minority who believed in it, no matter how foolish or ridiculous it may sound.

You believe in fated mates. You believe in the name written in the stars, in the love that has been shaped and created just to cherish you. You believe in spending the rest of your life looking for a face that your heart would recognise in a heartbeat, feeling that inevitable pull like you’re each other’s missing half.

But after last night, do you think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates?

Heeseung, who’s always made it clear to everyone about his relationship with commitments?

Heeseung, who never shies away when the boys tease him about the girls he sleeps with?

You’re never one to judge someone’s sex life, but you might be a little too concerned about how they view a long-term, committed relationship. Because that’s what you’ve been looking for. 

An alpha who’s not afraid to love you loudly. An alpha whose instincts are to love and protect you. 

Sometimes, you really envy mated couples. You envy how loyal Riki is of his girlfriend, craving the same kind of devotion to be directed to you. You envy how proud Taesan is to show off his mating mark, like it’s a badge of honour and love that promises forever.

Eventually, your mind drifts to Heeseung. The captain of the basketball team. Someone who deceives people with how approachable he seems, but is actually the most detached.

Heeseung is a perfect and capable alpha. You’ve seen it.

He leads his team with the kind of leadership that becomes a glue, keeping the team together no matter what challenges they’re going through. You know that he’s from the music department, and there are a few songs with his name being credited as the producer, composer, lyricist—you name it. Heeseung is a dominant alpha and uses his authority well, and he knows how to fend for himself.

You admire him, you really do. 

But will he devote himself to you? Will he look only for you in a crowd of beautiful omegas, and beautiful omegas who have spent the night with him? Does he share the same sentiment as you when it comes to fated mates?

The churn in your stomach provides an answer clearer than any of your exams had ever done.

You let Yujin’s question fade in the background, letting yourself lose in your element—baking and baking and baking until it feels like you could feed a whole team of athletes. Which is what Yujin has suggested before she leaves for her lab session, after saving a big jar of cookies for herself.

Fated mates.

What a scary thought.

For the first time in his life, Heeseung is actively avoiding omegas.

It’s not any omegas, though. It’s only you. But since it’s you, it’s actually a pretty big deal to him. 

Heeseung doesn’t play favourites. He doesn’t believe in fated mates, remember? But last night left a lasting impact in the form of your scent still clinging to him this morning, even after showering.  Not to mention how excited his wolf has been when realising that it’s you. 

It’s you, for fuck’s sake! The one who rejected him one year ago, and, admittedly, one of the prettiest omegas on campus. You might as well be every alpha’s ideal type. Well, maybe not Riki, that man is proudly claimed and fiercely loyal to his mate. But it’s definitely the case for him and Jay. 

Knowing his best friend, Heeseung’s sure you’re just Jay’s type. And his. No. He didn’t say that. He doesn’t have a type, remember?

As if to make it worse, you also have a scent that might just be his favourite one yet. The same scent that is currently invading his senses, dampening other pheromones in the court despite being on opposite ends from you. The same scent that his wolf decides to pick up and single out the moment he steps foot in the campus, recognising you before his eyes can even see you first. The same scent that still lingers in his lungs, mingling with his cinnamon and sea breeze notes like dancing partners. 

Yeah, Heeseung is starting to think that he’s slowly going insane. 

“Dude, stop staring. You’re scaring them.”

Heeseung blinks, Jay’s voice successfully snapping him out of whatever omega-spell that you have casted on him. Yeap, he nods. It’s definitely that. You’re actually a witch. There’s no other explanation to this other than that.

A blob of freshly-dyed blonde hair pops up beside Jay. “Hyung showed up smelling like daisies and honey and suddenly he’s staring at the cheerleaders like they owe him money.” Riki teases, then grins when he realises something. “Wait, that kinda rhymes—”

“I’m not staring!” Heeseung almost shouts, belatedly realising that he, indeed, has been staring at the group of cheerleaders stretching across the court. Or, to be more precise, he’s been staring at you. He glares at Riki.

“Okay. So why do you smell like one of them then? What’s her name again, Jay hyung?”

Heeseung grumbles. “It’s no one—”

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, that one. The shy one.” 

Heeseung groans. He kicks Riki’s shins and makes a show of turning his back facing the cheerleaders. But for some reasons he refuses to admit, as if he has eyes on the back of his head, he still can point where you’re standing just from his senses alone.

These stupid, useless alpha senses.

At least Jay takes pity on him. “Your Heeseung hyung saved her from perverts last night. He scented her to calm her down because she was reacting pretty badly.”

Heeseung mentally thanks Jay and continues warming up. He opts to just watch his teammates dribble and stretch just like him. The faint hum of scent neutraliser—a new, advanced one, thanks to that incident with Riki’s girlfriend—rumbles slowly. Somewhere behind him, he can hear you laugh and taste the sweet spike in your scent on his tongue. Heeseung grits his teeth. 

What is wrong with his wolf? Please get your tail together.

Riki, on the other hand, is intrigued. “Really? Did it happen after I left? Who were those alphas?”

“Some idiots from that team we beat last night.”

Riki frowns, clearly displeased with the news he just heard. “Well, I’ll keep my eyes on them. How did Heeseung hyung find her?”

Jay shrugs and shoots him a look. Heeseung really hopes he can slap that annoying smirk off his face one day. “Dunno. Ask him. His alpha probably recognised her from miles away.”

Heeseung doesn’t like what that sentence implies. “Shut up. It’s just instinct. Normal alpha-omega reaction.”

“Keep lying to yourself. I can practically see your tail wagging when you smelled your pheromones on her just now.”

“I didn’t—” Heeseung closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down despite the sudden flare of defensiveness exploding in his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s so reactive and not in his usual calm composure, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with you. Jay and Riki snicker. 

“The only people that believe in fated mates are you two idiots. Do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” Riki snorts and looks at him, amused. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have a fated mate. That shit is rare. It’s like finding my size in Calvin Klein.”

Jay frowns. “I don’t see the correlation.”

“There is. My dick is just too big, hyung. There’s no size for me—”

“I don’t need to know that!” Jay slaps at Riki’s shoulders while the younger alpha only lets out a full-body laugh. “Save that information for your girlfriend, Riki. I didn’t raise you like this.”

“She already knows that.”

“Nishimura Riki!” 

Heeseung is back to zoning out, his energy is suddenly drained out of his soul. That’s usually the case when you have to deal with a Nishimura Riki and a Park Jongseong on a daily basis. His mind, choosing to move at the pace of a snail today, is replaying Riki’s words back like a broken loop.

The realisation hits him five seconds late. “Wait. Did you mean that you and your girlfriend are not…fated mates? I thought you were!”

Riki is trapping Jay in a headlock when he answers. “Nope. We only imprinted on each other from early on because we’re childhood friends.”

“So like…what’s the difference?” Heeseung pauses and hesitates for a moment. He glances at you and then thinks, fuck it. If curiosity didn’t kill the cat then it’ll definitely kill him. “Can you smell your girlfriend in a sea of people?”

Riki scrunches his nose, his hands busy play-fighting with Jay. Heeseung ignores them like it’s a daily occurrence to see them act this way. Which is probably not far from the truth. “Not really? If they’re too many people, like right now, with your stench and too many omega scents—it’s difficult to find her.” Jay tackles his side and Riki yelps. “B-But it’s getting better after the mating bite, though—Jay hyung! I just got my tattoo there!”

“So…you can’t like…” Heeseung licks his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He has a feeling that he’s not going to like the answer Riki’s going to give him once he finishes his sentence. Jay is now on the floor while Riki is pulling him by the legs and dragging him around like a used rug.

“You can’t single her out from her scent alone?”

There. He said it. His two idiotic friends will catch on it and grill him for the problem he partially caused. The other part is, no doubt, his wolf’s fault for deciding to like one single scent. You’re not at fault at all. Never. Wait, who said that?

Riki is breathless from the laughter and play-fight, but he still manages to listen and answer, thanks to his alpha senses. If he finds Heeseung’s questions strange, he only shares his suspicion through a knowing look with Jay.

“Sometimes. Like I said, it’s only when the crowd isn’t too big and when she’s in the same room as me.” Riki finally spares Heeseung a glance, tilting his head in a feigned curiosity. “Why are you asking, hyung? Did you smell Y/N from miles away or something?”

How the fuck did that idiot know?

Heeseung looks away from the teasing grin thrown his way. He really doesn’t like this. “No,” he grumbles. “I’m just afraid if I might be Jay’s fated mate because his pheromones are fucking everywhere.”

“Hey! What the fuck did I do to you?!” 

Riki bursts out laughing and high-fives Heeseung with a cheeky smile. On the floor, Jay is already huffing and sulking, mumbling something about ‘always catching strays’ and ‘citrusy pheromones aren’t smelly’. Heeseung sighs quietly when the topic takes a turn into a debate about who has the best smelling pheromones, which is an easy win for Riki, if Heeseung’s going to be honest. 

Don’t tell Jay though. Heeseung doesn’t want to lose his passenger princess privilege so soon.

Much to his relief, it’s already time for practice. Heeseung tries to ignore the prickle in his neck coming from your direction as you and your fellow cheerleaders leave the gym to go to your own practice room. He fights the urge to look back, to stride forward and ask you to stay—which is insane, by the way, what the fuck is wrong with him?

Before he slips into his captain mode, however, Jay approaches him with a more serious look on his face. “Calm your flat tits, Hee. It’s normal for her scent to linger; you kinda scented her aggressively to protect her last night.”

Heeseung weakly nods. Jay pats his shoulder. “A deep bond can’t be conjured just from scenting alone, unless you’re fated mates.”

This time, Heeseung doesn’t move, his tension visible in the rigid lines of his posture, the frantic movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

“Yeah,” he croaks, his pulse louder than his own voice. “Hope not.”

Practice goes on for the next two hours. Heeseung eventually falls into routine, finding himself lost in adrenaline and competitiveness. The thoughts of you cease for a moment, replaced by his quick-thinking strategy and sharp reflexes. He keeps dribbling, scoring, and making passes, not even aware of the ticking clock or when the cheerleader squad comes back in to take a break.

The last whistle finally blows before the players dramatically fall in a heap of sweaty, breathless alphas. The practice was particularly grueling, which made his body ache and his shirt clung to his skin. The coach is on fire today, all because his wife has been giving him a silent treatment. Apparently, he forgot to buy diapers on his way home last night.

Source: Nishimura Nosy.

“I think I might die,” Jay huffs, claiming a bench all to himself. His chest rises and falls in a rapid motion. “But even as a ghost, I bet the coach would still unearth my grave to force me to practice.”

“I’ll be Ghost Number Two.” Heeseung deadpans, lying down on the bench next to Jay. The latter continues to talk about something else, which Heeseung would know and remember if he didn’t get distracted by daisies and honey.

Fuck. You’re in the court again.

The urge to corner you, to grab your wrist and ask if you were okay, crawls under his skin again—restless, unrelenting.

Heeseung isn’t stupid. He knows last night, ugly as it was, doesn’t just fade by morning. His alpha has been clawing at him since then, sharp and impatient, demanding he go to you.

But Heeseung doesn’t move.

For once, he’s a coward.

He shoves it down, buries it deep, treating his own wolf like a disease he refuses to catch.

Heeseung blinks at the ceiling in an active effort to not start looking for you and staring at you like a creep. This time, he wonders quietly why your scent smells stronger than before. Perhaps the adrenaline from your routine. But even so, you don’t only smell strong, but you also smell closer—

“Free cookies!”

Heeseung jolts in surprise and whips his head in the direction of that voice. Or, precisely, your voice. His heart, as if trying to shorten his life span, decides not to take a break from the session just now and continues beating even faster.

There, just a few paces away from him, is you, standing in the middle of the court with one of your cheerleader friends. In her hold, there’s a purple Tupperware, its lid nowhere to be found. You stand slightly behind your friend, shyly looking over her shoulders as she talks to his teammates.

“Oh my God, they brought us cookies?!” Jay is already standing up, stretching lazily like a cat. “C’mon, Hee. It’s free cookies.”

Heeseung’s quick to refuse, despite his wolf begging him to go. “Nah—”

But before he can spit out any excuses, Jay is already dragging him, his weeks spent in the gym working out with Riki are finally paying off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take your portion and give it to me.”

Heeseung groans. He really should start joining their workout session. He can’t be manhandled by his two best friends easily like this.

Distracted, Heeseung fails to register the decreasing distance between you and him. It’s only when your scent spikes sweetly, which hits him in the face like a fucking tidal wave, does he catch your eyes and realises that, fuckfuckfuck she’s here ohmyGod—

“Hi, Jay. Hi, Heeseung.”

Wait hold on, why does his name sound even more beautiful coming from your voice?

He stands like a flag pole beside Jay, actively avoiding your eyes while being fully aware of that pretty pair staring at his face. The floor suddenly looks very interesting, with skid marks from their shoes and some sweat trails. Okay. Ew. That’s gross.

“Hey, pretty ladies.” Jay greets, flashing his attractive smile as he gestures at the container. “Heard there’s free cookies for the taking? Mind if we have some?” 

Smooth as ever, Jay doesn’t even realise how easily he has charmed your friend with his simple greeting. Poor omega is already blinking rapidly, almost bouncing on her toes as she practically shoves the Tupperware into Jay’s chest. 

“Yes! Yes, of course you can, Jay. There’s only little left! Take them all!”

Your eyes, fixated on Heeseung since he arrived, tries to search his face as you shyly interrupt, whispering into your friend’s ear. 

“Offer some to Heeseung too…”

Heeseung doesn’t know whether to curse or thank the Goddess for his advanced dominant-alpha senses, because overhearing those words…it makes his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.

But your friend doesn’t pay you any mind, urging Jay to take the Tupperware from her. Jay, ever the gentleman but still a little shameless shit when it comes to food, takes it from her eager hands. He takes one bite and immediately lights up.

“This is so good! I love that it’s not too sweet.”

Like a mirror reflecting light, you beam widely, returning Jay’s enthusiasm. Heeseung tries to ignore the ugly twist in his chest. “Really? That’s…good to hear.”

“She made these, by the way!” Your friend proudly announces, which makes red blooms across your cheeks, ducking your head down slightly. You’re so shy, so pretty, Heeseung can’t stop staring.

And so good at baking. Such a perfect omega, his wolf continues. Shut the fuck up, Heeseung hisses.

“You’re really good at this, Y/N,” Jay interrupts his internal war, his voice sounding wrong in his ears. “Care to share the recipe?”

Now, is Jay flirting with you? Since when does his voice sound like that?

Heeseung tries to inhale, attempting to calm his fucking irrational wolf down, but all he can smell is the sugary scent of yours, tangling delicately and blending seamlessly with his spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze. Somewhere in his chest, his heartstrings soften, drunk in the perfect mix of your pheromones, a ghost of a mark from last night. 

Maybe that’s what possessed him to snatch the Tupperware from Jay.

Heeseung wastes no time and starts munching two cookies at once, ignoring the gasps from you and your friend and the bombastic side-eye from his fellow alpha friend. The flavour of buttery vanilla and sweet chocolate chips melt on his tongue and Heeseung almost purrs at the taste.

Outside, he makes an effort to look calm.

“These are good,” he comments coolly, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a compliment (he’s failing). This time, he dares himself to meet your eyes, and has to force down another purr when he sees the sparkles in your eyes. “Thank you, Y/N.”

There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest when the blush in your cheeks deepen. You quickly look down to the floor, mumbling softly that could’ve been missed had it not been for his senses.

What kind of pull is this? Why is every sense of his attuned to you? Heeseung swears he can smell the subtle spike of your scent, the sound of your heartbeat and your soft breathing. It’s like his whole body has decided that it wants to worship you.

And Heeseung doesn’t worship. Fuck. This is terrifying.

“Thank you, Heeseung…”

There. Your voice again. Heeseung swallows. His grip on the Tupperware tightens. Seeing you under this light, flushed and softly smiling to the ground while sneaking glances at him—it undoes him in ways he never dared imagine. 

The question is already at the tip of his tongue without his realisation. ‘Are you okay? Does what happened last night still bother you?’ The urge to comfort and soothe, now growing like a rolling snowball, threatening to spill from his mouth.

And the scary part is: Heeseung isn’t sure if that desire comes from his wolf or himself.

However, he never gets the chance to, because Jay with his perfect, universe-timing is already pulling him backwards. “Thank you for the cookies! We’ll eat them well!”

Heeseung reluctantly nods, the grip he has on the Tupperware turning knuckle-white.

“What the fuck was that?” Jay whisper-yells when they’re out of earshot, walking back to their previous spot. “And those are not only for you. Give them back to me!”

Heeseung dodges his grabby hand. “Why the fuck are you eating more?” He asks, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice.

“Didn’t they give all ten of them to us?”

“You’ve had two.”

“And you’ve had five!”

“I don’t care. These are mine.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

That’s what it takes for Heeseung to freeze in his tracks. Seeing an opening, Jay quickly snatches the Tupperware from his grasp and runs back to his spot on the bench, not forgetting to flip off the burgundy-haired alpha as he does so.

Heeseung is losing his fucking mind.

Sighing, Heeseung closes his eyes, a faint trail of daisies and honey still clinging to his senses. Even across the room, among the murmur of the gossiping cheerleaders, it’s your voice, the only one clear and crisp to his ears. 

I’m being ridiculous.

This isn’t me.

Slowly, his human side starts taking over, all flowery images of you vanish within seconds.

Fuck, he curses. He wishes this scent-marking will be gone by tomorrow morning.

Three mornings later, much to his dismay, your scent still clings to him. On the bright side, it has been notably fading, now only the remnants of daisies and honey underneath cinnamon and sea air; like crunched petals along the shoreline, waiting to be washed away.

Against his own judgment, however, his wolf is fucking devastated.

He’s been whining like a kicked puppy ever since he walked to practice this morning and couldn’t smell his scent on you instantly. He still can spot you from two buildings away, which is still strange, but the lack of spice and salt in your scent is what does it. Heeseung has to fight the urge to march towards you and start scenting you.

His wolf has been restless. And, inevitably, it puts Heeseung in a terrible mood, too. He never knew his wolf was that desperate. 

Practice ends late that night. With the tournament just around the corner, everyone is being a little shit at managing their emotions and competitiveness on the court—the downside of having an all-alpha team that people rarely talk about. 

Heeseung is not excluded from the equation, though. He almost threw the ball to Taesan’s knot and made his omega pups-less and pregnancy-free when he accidentally made a bad pass. The court had smelled like tension and a barely held-together brotherhood when he left before a cheerleader came up to him to flirt and he wasted no time to drag her to an empty classroom.

Now, Heeseung finds himself making out with that omega, tongue licking up into her mouth while she breathlessly moans into his. It’s been five days since his last fuck, and while he usually can go on without sex for weeks (one month was his best record), he’s been at his wit’s end today. Add the confusion and silent wars he’s been having about you into the mix, and Heeseung is nothing more than a stressed body waiting to be relieved.

Weirdly enough, the frustration he hopes to get rid of stays as frustration. The old sparks he usually feels when having this intimate moment with an omega seems to disappear tonight. In the back of his mind, like a looming cloud carrying a storm, is a hazy image of teary eyes and red, trembling lips.

Something stirs uneasily in his chest.

His huge, veiny hands slip under her skirt and find purchase on her cunt, gathering the slick leaking from her arousal. Her scent spikes as she bucks up her hips and, to Heeseung’s own surprise, he recoils from the smell of it and breaks the kiss. The girl doesn’t stop her advances, switching to kiss down his long neck instead.

He subconsciously scrunches up his nose, his finger halting its movement for a second. 

“What perfume are you wearing?” He asks, voice hoarse from the makeout session. He tilts his head back, allowing access and finding stimulation, but the usual thrill is a bit dull tonight.

“My pheromones,” she manages between kisses, “you like it?”

It’s quite the opposite, to be honest. Heeseung finds himself hating it. It’s too sweet. Too sharp. It sits wrong in his nose, burns at the back of his throat, like inhaling smoke for the first time. His eyes water.

There’s something wrong. He’s not enjoying this. 

And to make things worse and more confusing, his chest hurts. It constricts, like his lungs decide to shrink into a ball of unexplained pain. Heeseung’s breath stutters, almost doubling over. His mind is a frantic buzz of noise, chanting something that he can’t seem to fully register yet.

Not my omega. Not daisies. Not honey.

Heeseung feels something twist in his gut.

The nameless omega—he forgot to ask for her name—doesn’t notice the shift yet, the way Heeseung is already a frozen statue of confusion and frustration in her embrace. She continues, trailing down hot, wet kisses along the prominent line of his collarbone and sucks the tender skin. 

“Ow!” Heeseung yelps, instinctively pushing her away. The spot stings like a pulsing heartbeat, void of any pleasure that it usually would give. He staggers backwards once.

The girl frowns, clearly not happy being pushed like that. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“I—” Heeseung hisses, his shirt sitting wrong on his skin, her scent smelling wrong in his nose. He shakes his head. “Shit. I’m sorry, I—I have somewhere to be.” 

The girl scoffs, disbelieving. “What?! Heeseung, you can’t just—”

But Heeseung can, and he already does. The alpha is out of the room in the next minute, deliberately the calls of his name and the strings of insults that come from behind him. He makes a run for it.

What the fuck did just happen? Heeseung is never one to refuse a good time with omega, but his wolf is quiet tonight. Too quiet, like it’s being silent on purpose in solidarity for something he’s yet to know—or yet to realise. 

The hazy image comes back to his mind, slowly becoming sharp and clear. Heeseung thinks his lungs have turned into bricks when he realises that he’s been imagining you. That his head has been loud with the thoughts of you, even when he’s with someone else.

Why? Why is this happening? Why you?

Heeseung makes a turn to where the locker room is, planning to grab his duffel and leave, when he bumps into Riki and Jay, freshly out of the shower.

“Heeseung hyung?” A shirtless Riki calls his name, then raises a brow when he sees his condition. “Was wondering where you were. But those lipstick stains told me enough.”

Heeseung wipes his neck harshly. Wordlessly, he yanks his locker open and checks himself out in a mirror. He turns his face left and right, yanking down his under eyes, then sighs. Riki and Jay exchange looks. The air is slowly thickening with the pheromones of a distressed alpha, coming from none other than Heeseung.

“You good, mate?” Jay decides to ask him. Heeseung doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he’s as good as he wants himself to be. The alpha lets out another sigh and slams the door closed.

“I think something is definitely wrong with me.”

“Is it practice?” Jay softens his voice, already switching on his therapist-friend mode. “Hee, today’s just that day. Everybody was losing their shits, it’s not just you.”

Heeseung leans his back on the locker and tilts his head upwards. “It’s not that. I mean it biologically. Ever since—” Heeseung pauses, suddenly unsure if saying out loud would make things right. But Riki and Jay have already caught onto it.

“Ever since what?”

Heeseung chooses to deflect. “Look, I was trying to make out with this one pretty omega just now. But no matter how much kissing we did, I just couldn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung points to his sweatpants. Riki and Jay curiously follow with their eyes. “She was practically sucking my tongue and I’m not even bricked up, man!”

Riki furrows his eyebrows. “Not even a spark?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “I couldn’t feel anything. At all. Only,” he swallows harshly. “I only felt disgusted. By her.”

Silence hangs in the room at his revelation. Riki’s expression morphs into something akin to genuine surprise, while Jay only stares at him with a gaping mouth before he starts typing on his phone.

“This is dead serious. You can’t have sex without your dick. That's like a banana cake without bananas.”

Heeseung and Riki grimace. “Please don’t ever compare my dick to a banana again.”

“Or a banana cake.” Riki slaps his shoulder. “That’s my favourite, hyung. Don’t be gross.”

Jay waves a dismissive hand, eyes still glued on his phone. “Right, right. Anyway, I texted Sunoo.”

Heeseung’s eyes go wide like saucer plates at the name and groans. “Sunoo?! Jay, you know he’s still mad at me.”

“I know, but he’s the only one who probably knows the answer to this.” Jay smacks his lips when he reads a new text from Sunoo. “He’s staying back for a lab session. Let’s go to the medicine building.”

And that’s how Heeseung finds himself cramped into a tiny booth of a ramyeon stall, located by the road near the faculty of medicine. A pouty Sunoo is sitting across from him, shooting him his foxy side-eyes as he whines at Jay.

“Jay hyung, why did you bring this traitor with you?” Sunoo pulls at the sleeves of Jay’s hoodie, sulking away from Heeseung. It’s only the three of them since Riki had gone home with his girlfriend just now. “I thought the three of us would include you, me, and Riki.”

Jay sighs exasperatedly. “I had to, Sunoo. That traitor is having a critical dick malfunction and he needs your help.”

The waitress arrives with three bowls of steaming ramyeon. Jay and Sunoo pause their not-so-quiet argument and help her place the bowls on their table. She clears her throat awkwardly, and takes a quick glance at Heeseung before leaving. Heeseung groans internally.

Great. Now words about him and his dick problem will spread around the campus.

“Is STD finally catching up with you?” 

Heeseung should know that it was never that easy to get Sunoo off his back. That boy is a professional pouty sulk-er, he’ll never let Heeseung go easily. Not after harassing him with his sass, at least. Heeseung holds back a sigh, already resigned and defeated.

With a grim voice, he apologises to the brown-haired alpha. For the fifth time. 

“Sunoo, I am so sorry. I know it was my fault, but for the record, I didn’t know you were serious about pretending to be an omega. Why would you even do that, anyway?”

“Because I like the attention!” Sunoo is fast to defend himself, his pout only deepening. “And because alphas will only spoil me if I was their pretty little soft omega—which I am not! And you exposing my secondary gender to that alpha just ruined my chance to be with him. Who would even call their friend, ‘my cutie little fake omega’, anyway?!”

“I was drunk!”

“A drunk traitor is still a traitor!”

Heeseung turns to Jay, sending him signals to help him out. But his best friend deliberately ignores him, too engrossed in his own bowl, pretending to be a wall. Heeseung rolls his eyes and looks back at Sunoo.

It might not be that easy to console the sulky boy, but Heeseung is labelled a sweet talker for a reason.

“You’re already a pretty alpha, Sunoo. Prettier than any omega I know. Anyone would drop everything for you even if they knew you weren’t an omega.”

Like a switch being flipped, the frown on Sunoo’s melts away, replaced by a beam so wide it shows off his perfect teeth.

“Aw, Heeseungie hyung. You’re now forgiven. Now tell me about this dick problem of yours.”

Jay and Heeseung look at each other and relax into their chairs in relief. Heeseung sends him a look of, ‘That was easy,’ to which Jay raises his eyebrow, ‘Why hadn’t you done it sooner?’

Now, with Sunoo not threatening to kill the burgundy-haired alpha anymore, Heeseung can finally enjoy a few bites of his untouched ramyeon. It’s already a bit cold and soggy, but the broth makes up for it. He retells the story to Sunoo between bites, watching the ever expressive boy react to it with various expressions.

“It’s not uncommon, though. But since it’s you, it must have felt very concerning.” Sunoo hums in thought, tapping his full lips with the thinnest tips of his chopsticks. “Well, Heeseungie hyung, did you imprint on any omegas?”

Heeseung hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head, feeling Jay’s eyes on him.

“No.”

“Hm, okay. Even if it’s due to imprints, it has to come from both sides,” Sunoo rubs his chin, now looking every bit a live action of Detective Conan, minus the glasses. “Did you conjure a bond with anyone? Maybe accidentally?”

Heeseung’s lips part. “I…would’ve known, right?”

“Right.” Sunoo nods firmly, then tilts his head. “Did you scent one of your hookups, then?”

“An almost-hookup,” Jay cuts in, clearly enjoying this interrogation. Heeseung shoots him a look. Jay is always out to rat him out and he’s actually so close to disowning him.

He grunts. “Just…someone.”

Sunoo smiles in amusement. “So you did scent someone. Was it someone you like?”

“Define like.”

“Like them enough to want to kiss them. Like them enough to want to fuck them. Like them enough to even want to scent them to begin with.” Sunoo shrugs. “Pick one.”

Heeseung closes his eyes. Does he like you? Wanting to kiss and fuck someone don’t equal to liking them. Because if that was true, then there’s no other explanation to Heeseung ‘liking’ every omega he has fucked other than him having an insanely big heart—which he doesn’t. He liked the sex and their company; that was all there was to it.

Which leaves him option number three. 

Heeseung’s never the guy to sit with his feelings—at least not the romantic kind. You’re an unfamiliar territory; something that he deliberately avoids his entire life, simply because he never sees settling down with a mate as a desirable goal or accomplishment. And, perfectly hidden under his fuckboy persona is also a thin layer of fear.

Fear of getting hurt by the thing that’s supposed to be love.

But does he like you?

Maybe he does. He’s always liked the way you laugh; you always cover your mouth with one hand when you do, like your smile is only visible in the privacy of those who really know you. He’s always noticed the way you touch the tip of your nose when people’s eyes are on you. He’s always thought the natural blush that you have when you’re shy is adorable.

In that one single minute, Heeseung realises that he’s been paying attention to you more than he thought he did.

Fuck. He does like you.

But does liking have to lead to being mated?

That responsibility is way taller and heavier than him and Heeseung is beyond freaked out.

“Earth to Heeseungie hyung?”

“Why does it even matter? What does it even have to do with me not getting a boner during a makeout session?” Heeseung demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. Is Sunoo punishing him for being the reason he fumbled that tall, hot alpha two weeks ago? Will Sunoo truly ever forgive him? He already apologised five times!

Sunoo, seeing enough of his hyung’s suffering, finally relents. “Geez, relax. I wasn’t playing with you. I asked because most of the time this happens,” he gestures at Heeseung and his crotch. Heeseung instinctively closes his long legs. “It’s because the wolf has already liked one omega. An omega they recognise as their mate. It’s the only explanation why you felt disgusted just now.”

Mate. That cursed word again. Beside Sunoo, Jay is whistling.

“Sorry. You mean my wolf, my alpha, likes one omega and decides I shouldn’t fuck around anymore?”

Sunoo nods. “Basically, yeah. But it usually isn’t that easy, hyung. A bond has to have been conjured between your wolf and their wolf by any kind of markings.”

“Like?”

“Like biting. Or scenting.”

Scenting. Heeseung didn’t just do scenting with you, he was scent-marking you.

“But that’s impossible,” Jay interrupts, confusion etching onto his handsome features. His leaning forward now, his empty bowl pushed to the center of the table, which reminds Heeseung of his own bowl. The alpha quickly finishes his noodles. “Scenting between unmated alpha and unmated omega will only conjure a temporary, fragile bond. It should’ve been gone by now—the scenting happened five days ago.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I can detect some floral scent in Heeseungie hyung’s pheromones.”

Heeseung almost chokes on his noodles. “You do?”

Sunoo leans forward, squinting his eyes at him like he’s some kind of lab specimen. “Yeah. It’s faint, but it’s there. Sweet. Floral. Clingy.” He tilts his head again. “It’s weird.”

Across from him, Heeseung is frozen. His grip on the chopsticks tightens. He swallows harshly.

“That’s not supposed to happen…right?”

“Exactly,” Sunoo points at him. “That’s why I’m saying it’s weird.”

Jay leans back, arms crossed. “But if it’s still there after five days—”

“It doesn’t automatically mean fated mates,” Sunoo cuts in quickly, tone sharper this time. He shoots Jay a look before turning back to Heeseung. “Don’t jump to that conclusion. That’s, like, extremely rare. And also very dramatic.”

Heeseung exhales, shoulders dropping just a little.

Right. Dramatic. His alpha begs to differ.

“It could just be a stronger-than-usual temporary bond,” Sunoo continues, more thoughtful now. “Maybe your alpha overdid it when you scented them. Or the omega was in a heightened emotional state, so the bond lasted longer.”

Jay hums, not entirely convinced.

“But the whole not getting turned on thing?” He gestures vaguely. “That still doesn’t explain it fully.”

Sunoo taps his chin again. “Mhm. That part’s interesting.” He levels Heeseung with a curious look. “Who is this girl, anyway? You seem pretty fucked over her.”

Heeseung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you not say it like that? Like I’m some kind of a broken alpha?”

“You kinda are right now,” Sunoo says bluntly.

“Sunoo.”

“I’m serious!” He leans forward again, eyes lighting up. “Your body is rejecting other omegas. That’s not normal for you. Like, at all.”

Heeseung slumps deeper into his seat. As if it’s not already obvious enough, Sunoo just had to spell it out loud.

“I noticed,” he mutters, defeated.

Sunoo softens slightly at that, sighing as he rests his chin on his palm. “Okay. Look. Don’t panic yet.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You’re literally here because your dick stopped working.”

“…Okay, I’m a little panicked.”

Sunoo waves his chopsticks dismissively. “It’s probably not fated mates. If it were, you’d be way worse right now.”

Heeseung stills. “Worse?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo shrugs. “You’d be obsessing. Unable to stay away. Your senses would go crazy. You’d feel everything they feel, more or less.”

Jay slowly turns to look at Heeseung. Heeseung immediately avoids his gaze. That fucker is always eager to catch his ‘Gotcha!’ moment, it irritates him to the core.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he says a bit too quickly, the lie tasting acidic on his tongue.

Sunoo mustn't know about the knot of uneasiness in his chest. Sunoo mustn’t know about the face that comes to his mind when he’s kissing someone else. None of his friends must know that he’s obsessing right now, itching to flee and find you in the middle of the night.

“Exactly,” Sunoo nods, unaware of his friend’s turmoil. “So relax. I’ll look into it more, yeah? Might be some weird hormonal response or delayed imprint reaction.”

Heeseung lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, okay.”

“Or you can do a try-and-error,” Sunoo suggests, reaching over to pat Heeseung’s shoulder. “Just do what you always do—try hooking up with different omegas. Maybe the one you made out with tonight was just a bad compatibility for you.”

Heeseung perks up at that. Sunoo and Jay, not noticing the shift in the air, are already moving forward with a different topic, completely oblivious to the newly-lit determination now burning up his body.

Just do what you always do.

Right. Heeseung has a high body count for a reason. He decides, with a final resolution, that he should solve this his own way.

If Heeseung spends every night for the next two weeks trying to bed different omegas, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.

If Heeseung fails each time, unable to enjoy every kiss and friction, Sunoo and Jay don't have to know.

If the pain in his chest worsens every time he leaves the barely-warm beds, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.

If Heeseung avoids looking at you, avoids bumping into you, avoids speaking to you—he hopes you don’t know about it.

A quiet voice from his wolf whispers something that he refuses to acknowledge: He hopes you’ll forgive him for being unfaithful.

You’ve been sick for two weeks. 

At first it was subtle, like a faint throb in your heart that makes you stop whatever you’re doing. The first time it happened, you were in the middle of a group discussion for an elective subject. 

A quiet alpha, or a wolf hybrid named Sunghoon, to be exact, had noticed the way you winced from the pain. He didn’t say anything, but you guessed he told an omega about what he saw because right before you exited the library, one of the girls had passed you a free menstrual pad.

He thought you were experiencing period cramps. You wished it was just period cramps.

Then, it gradually grew to something worse. A sudden stabbing pain in your chest. A twist in your gut, like you were expecting something bad to happen. Sometimes it was random palpitations, where your heart was skipping huge beats, as if you were about to go down on a roller coaster.

Each time it happened, you only placed your palm over your heart, hoping it’d go away. You never understood why, but those pains only came at night, preventing you from getting any good sleep and rest. And each time you tried to close your eyes, there was only one face flashing behind your eyelids.

Heeseung.

Yujin had dragged you to the clinic, but the doctor came to a conclusion that you were just having pre-heat symptoms—which couldn’t be further from the truth, because you just had your cycle one month ago. You’re not supposed to go on your quarterly-cycle of torture for another two months.

“Oh my Goddess, you’re burning up.” Yujin’s palm is cold against your forehead. Her face is pulled into a tight expression. “Let’s just skip today’s classes, okay? I’ll stay with you.”

You weakly nod, barely registering Yujin’s movement around the room. Your body feels like a furnace, the heat simmering in your veins almost rivaling a volcano’s lava. You discard the blanket to get some sort of relief, only to shiver in the cold when the air touches your skin.

After a few minutes of exiting and entering your room, Yujin finally sits by your bed. She helps you with a glass of water and a dosage of paracetamol, careful to wipe any loose drops like a concerned mother. It doesn’t get better, but at least your throat doesn’t feel like it’s being scrubbed with sandpaper anymore.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Dying, but a bit less dramatic.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to give Suho from True Beauty a run for his money, would we?”

You chuckle softly, though it sounds more like a seal with a sore throat.

“But seriously, though. It’s been two weeks.” Yujin purses her lips, the worriness still marring her beautiful face. “I’m so worried, Y/N. What’s happening to you?”

You don’t answer right away. “It’s my omega.”

Yujin’s eyebrow jumps. “What about her?”

You also wonder the same thing. Swallowing, you finally let your friend in on the torturous days you have been going through. “One night, after our practice ran quite late two weeks ago, she went a bit hysteric. I couldn’t stop vomiting.” You recalled, eyes distant in memory. “She kept yelling something about a traitor, about rejection. I don’t know, really. But that’s how it started.”

“Two weeks ago, at night, you say?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Yujin is quiet for a few extended minutes, caressing her thumb over your knuckles. The motion puts you at ease, and slowly, you feel the pills begin working their chemicals.

“Did you, perhaps, hear about anything that happened that night?” You shake your head, unsure if your cheerleader squad had mentioned anything. Yujin hums. “Because I think I did.”

“What?”

“So I’m friends with this one omega named Sunoo from my faculty. A pretty boy and a petty gossiper.” Yujin starts, now treading her words slowly as if walking on eggshells. “He knows everyone on this campus. Especially the hot stuff, you know—student body, athletes, cheerleaders.” Yujin eyes you but not unkindly. “He knows you too. Just the basic stuff.”

“Like?”

“Your name, your major, your Instagram account.”

You let out a breath, a bit unsure where this is heading, but listen anyway. “Okay.”

“And because of his impeccable knowledge of gossip, I heard from him about a cheerleader breaking down in the group chat after a certain alpha left her mid-making out, all slicked and horny while he didn’t even pop a borner.”

You hold onto her every word, but for some reason, a dread has settled deep in your bones, like your body is already anticipating some bad news. Your heart, previously beating fast, is now sprinting like it might escape your rib now.

“And that alpha was Heeseung.”

It hits before you can even think.

A sharp, twisting pain lances through your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs like you’ve been struck. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching at nothing.

Your omega whines—hurt, betrayed. And suddenly, you understand why. The cries about betrayal. His face haunts you every night, like a painful reminder of the destiny you're subjected to.

You try to swallow once, then twice, before you find your voice back.

“Heeseung?” You try. His name now tastes bitter on your tongue.

Yujin, ever the empathetic, senses it, and tightens her hold on your hand. “Yeah,” she nods. She lets a moment of quiet pass, fidgeting and swallowing like you. Like the news has more stories that she’s yet to tell; an extended part to a nightmare that’s been keeping you up at night. You brace yourself.

“And two nights ago I saw him at Jake’s frat party with a girl. Doing sexy stuff. The usual.” Yujin can’t look at your face, choosing to stare at your intertwined hands instead. “The frat boys told me that he’s been at it almost every night. For two weeks.”

Is it possible to hurt someone this much in a span of five minutes? Getting shot multiple times would’ve hurt less than this.

There’s a heavy silence, then there’s your small, quiet voice, laced with unfiltered hurt.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I’m saying, Y/N, that you might be facing bond rejection symptoms right now.” Yujin licks her lips. “I’m saying that you and Heeseung just might be fated mates. That night he scented you? You guys conjured a half-bond. And him fucking around with other omegas like this hurts your wolf because she knows—only this kind of bond can do that.”

Is having a fated mate supposed to hurt like this? Like your chest is caving in, collapsing under the torment of unwanted love. Can you even call it love? Whatever it is that you and Heeseung unknowingly have been sharing—Is it even love?

It’s not. It’s just…fate.

You shake your head. There’s hot pain behind your eyes, a sign of an impending doom. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”

A drop of tears rolls down your face and in the next blink, everything is already blurry. “I—I think I already knew it.” Your voice is wet from despair, the pain almost feels tangible.  “He never meets my eyes anymore and—and every time I see him, I feel like I might die.”

A warm pair of arms pulls you close, and instantly the scent of green tea fills up your senses. Your roommate holds you tight, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as you sob into her chest. 

Your wolf, the contradict that she is, hopes that it was Heeseung embracing you. Still hoping it was the alpha comforting you, soothing you with his voice and that calming pheromones of his. Still foolishly longing for him despite everything.

You feel pathetic.

Your crying subsides after a while, still curling up against Yujin like a hurt puppy. You’re already losing track of time, if it’s still proper to have breakfast or if it’s already time for lunch. It is Yujin who finally speaks first.

“Do you hate it?”

You let the question linger in the air, turning it over in your thoughts like what you’ve been doing the past hour since you woke up. “I don’t hate the bond. Nor him.”

You pause, gnawing at your lower lip. Then you exhale.

“I just hate that I was never given a chance to do this properly.”

Yujin pulls away and makes you face her. She wipes your tears using her sleeves, murmuring sweet words as you feel your chest slightly loosening at her kind gesture. “You might still have it. Go and talk to him, Y/N. If he’s avoiding you like this, he might’ve felt something too, right?”

“If he’s avoiding me like this, he might just not want anything to do with me.” A humourless chuckle escapes your lips. “And to think that I thought I had a chance.”

“Wait, I never asked you this. Do you like Heeseung? Both of you; your wolf and you.”

You don’t answer right away. The question sits between the two of you, heavy and fragile; like a mark refusing to be looked over. 

Do you like Heeseung?

Your wolf stirs immediately. Yes, I like him.

The answer is quick. Certain. Definite. 

But you purse your lips, forcing yourself to think harder, deeper. Forcing yourself to think about you, not her. You can only come to one conclusion.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, honest. It sounds weak even to your ears. Beside you, Yujin keeps rubbing small, grounding circles over your hand.

“I already know my omega likes him,” you admit softly. “She decided that the moment he stayed and took care of me that night.”

Oh, how pathetic is it to fall for someone for doing something as mundane as staying and taking care of you?

It’s laughable. But it makes your chest ache even more, like your heart was an empty can and fate was crushing it with its tight grip.

“But me…” you continue, voice quieter now, “I don’t even know him like that.”

You shake your head, frustration flickering through your expression.

“I don’t know what he’s like when he’s not surrounded by people, or when he’s not—” you gesture vaguely, like you can scoop up every rumour tied to his name. “That version of him everyone talks about.”

You stare at your hands. “But I wanted to.”

Yujin follows, voice soft. “Wanted to?”

“I wanted to get to know him,” you continue, voice trembling. “When I first found out how my wolf feels for him, I thought it could be like how I’ve always imagined having a fated mate would be: slowly falling in love with them. With him.”

A wistful smile graces your beautiful features, soft and vulnerable. “I wanted to know which game he remembers the most. I wanted to know if the number on his jersey means anything. Silly things like that. Not this.”

Your hand moves to your chest unconsciously, rubbing the surface softly.

“Not like this. Not when it hurts every time I—” you cut yourself off, breath shaking. “Not when it hurts every time I look at him.”

You still remember, after one grueling routine, when the pain was still kind enough to let you come to practice. The players had just finished their practice too, slicked with sweat and looking exhausted as ever. Among the tired alphas, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s.

You had the instincts to go to him and pass him the cold mineral you’d unknowingly saved for him. But the look in his eyes—it was unreadable. Cold. An abyss that was enough to make you stay rooted in your place.

Then, without even a graze of a smile, he looked away, taking a bottle from Riki’s hand.

It had hurt more than you’d like to admit.

“I think…” you try again, more carefully this time. “If things were different, I would’ve liked him.”

Your throat tightens. This time, you’re reminded of that night before everything turned cruel like this. The warmth of his embrace that lingered. The spice of his scent that clung. The safety of his company that comforted you. 

Was any of it real?

“And if things were the same…I think I would've still liked him anyway.”

That’s the truth. A quiet, terrifying truth that settles deep in your chest like an unshakeable ground. The kind of truth that makes even your most grounding friend sit still in your bed.

“And that’s what makes it worse,” you whisper.

Because now it’s not just your omega.

It’s you, too.

The one-week intervarsity basketball tournament has finally begun. Around seven universities have sent their representatives, leading to a flood of humans in different-coloured jerseys wandering around on your campus, its official host. 

You’re excused from the whole week’s classes, seeing your cheerleaders and bunches of alphas more than you have ever seen your classmates since the tournament started. It was exciting at first, to participate in such a prestigious tournament that is always the talk of town. But the tight schedules between games is becoming more taxing and demanding.

It doesn’t help that the bond rejection symptoms have only gotten worse, hindering you from giving your best potential at each routine. Which, of course, catches the attention of your captain, and she’s not very amused with it.

“Y/N. If you’re not telling me what is wrong with you, then don’t make me find excuses to put you on the bleachers.” Narin once whispered to you on the third day of the tournament. You merely nodded, trying hard not to scrunch your noise at the sour smell of bubblegum and burnt cotton candy. She eyed you up and down, before she scoffed.

“Don’t get too butt-hurt that Heeseung’s fucking other cheerleaders,” she grunted. You froze. “At least you got your round that night. He fucking rejected me.”

What? The confusion must be clear on your face, because then Narin rolled her eyes, fixing the blue ribbon in her hair before she turned to face you.

“You smelled like him for weeks, Y/N. Don’t think people didn’t know that you two fucked after they won against that eastern university that night.” And then she left, leaving a dumbfounded you in the hallway, standing still like a lifeless statue.

Realisation starts settling in. Did people think you and Heeseung—fuck. You should’ve known.

No wonder many eyes were on you during those days when you still smelled like Heeseung.  You thought it was just because Heeseung was one of the most sought after alphas on campus. Not this. Not whatever allegation this is.

Still, the bomb Narin had dropped wasn’t enough to stop yourself from pushing yourself past your limits. You don’t even know what your limits are anymore. They seem to keep expanding with every new pain that blooms in your chest. 

You’re still a bit sluggish, but at least Narin is off your back. Whatever bitterness she harbours for you, though not forgotten, is at least tamed on the last day of the tournament.

You knew she wouldn’t understand, but you couldn’t help it if the pain worsens. You wish, for once, that Heeseung would take it slow with the cheerleaders from the opposing teams. Because the pain has become unbearable; cracks turning into holes of emptiness in your heart, faint pulsing turning into straight-up invisible stabbing in your gut. You’re actually surprised that you’re not already bleeding from how real it has felt.

However, deep down, there’s a small, barely-there gratitude for Heeseung for not doing it in front of you. At least you can spare yourself from whatever possible torment this fate has destined for you to face if you had to watch Heeseung fucking another omega in the empty locker room.

But you guess it’s time you finally, actually reach your limit, and your body can’t seem to be more dramatic to choose the last game as its last straw. As Heeseung hoops in the last score for the team, sealing their title as the champion, the audience erupts into the loudest cheer you’ve ever heard. You quickly get to your feet to perform the celebratory routine, but the world is spinning and your head is light when you stand up. You stagger backwards.

“Oh my Goddess, are you alright?” One of your cheerleader friends catches you in her arms, shaking you out of your pained daze. 

“I…” you cough, your voice only scratching at your throat. “I just need to. Sit. Yeah. I need to sit down and talk to Heeseung.”

“Heeseung?” The girl, who you finally recognise as Rei, looks over at the center of the court, where almost the whole school is hooting and hollering in joy. “Wait—let me sit you down first. You’re pale as hell, damn.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you’re finally seated. Rei has passed you a bottle of mineral water and fans you with her pink hand-fan. She stays by your side, looking after you as the rest of the world celebrates the first champion of your university team. You’re painfully grateful to her for it.

“Hey. Can I call one of your friends? Or maybe, do you have an alpha I can contact?” Rei starts when you’re not speaking, too focused on not focusing on the pain to remember to talk. “You asked for Heeseung just now. Is he your alpha?”

Is he?

You wish you knew the answer to that too.

Instead, you shake your head. “He’s not my alpha. I just…need to have a few words with him.”

Rei purses her lips, clearly not pleased with your priority at the moment but obliges anyway. “Alright. Let me text my cousin real quick.” She says, already rummaging inside her bag for her phone.

Her statement intrigues you. “Cousin?”

“Nishimura Riki. And he’s not replying. Gimme a sec.” You watch as Rei presses the call button on her phone and puts the device over her ear. You follow her line of sight as she turns to look at the court again. The crowd hasn’t calmed down from the high of the win yet.

“Hello, adopted fuck. I need you to read my text ASAP—Nobody’s stealing your girlfriend, Riki! You can go back to kissing her face after you read my text—Okay, okay! My friend, Y/N, needs to talk to Heeseung. President-level urgent.” Rei pauses, taking a quick look at you before she continues. “Yes. It seems very important. Just get his ass here fast. Yeah—Congrats, by the way. I’m not buying you that Chrome Hearts chain. Bye.”

Rei sighs as she pockets her phone. “Heeseung will be here in five minutes. You good? Do you still need anything? I feel like I should call someone else. You’re friends with Ahn Yujin, aren’t you?” She rambles on. For someone who barely speaks to you, Rei sure is a caring omega.

You give her a small smile.”I’m alright, Rei. I’ll rest after seeing him.”

Rei hums, checking her phone when it vibrates. “Aight, if you say so. I’ll be around here until they move to celebrate at Jake’s frat tonight.” She gathers her stuff and stands up, brushing her pleated skirt with practiced elegance that you know is instilled in every cheerleader’s demeanour.

“You take care of yourself. And I better not see you at the party.”

“Thank you, Rei.” You wave at her and watch as the lines of her frame get smaller, disappearing into the crowd. 

Now alone, the weight of reality is finally hitting you square in the chest. You curse, pulling your hair when you realise your stupid, impulsive decision, made in the whim of desperation to get the pain go away.

“This is stupid,” you whisper. Without thinking further, you grab your bag and stand to leave. But before you can flee the scene, a heavy presence with the familiar scent of spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze drifts into your senses.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name leaving his lips has locked you in place. The haunting familiarity of his voice, one that follows you into your restless sleeps and every waking hour, engulfs you almost like the night he held you in his arms.

Except this time, there’s a piercing pain in your heart that comes with his presence. A dull, throbbing ache that’s been a constant company to you, manifested into the shape of the man that your wolf yearns for.

Lee Heeseung.

“Y/N?” He repeats, but you don’t dare to face him just yet. “Riki said you wanted to, uh, talk to me.”

Licking your dry lips, you turn to Heeseung, and the sight has almost rendered you breathless.

Heeseung’s still wearing his jersey, standing tall to his height like he’s dominating the air around him. His burgundy hair looks softer under the light, some small strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. His shoulders are squared up, still lined with pride and the high from winning the tournament. He looks at you calmly, but the edges of his eyes are somewhat gentler; if the lights weren’t tricking your eyes.

You gulp, already losing the battle before it has even started. Why does he have to look so handsome?

You force yourself to say something. “Yeah. I did. I mean, I do. It’s important. I think.”

Heeseung is patient. If your nervousness is something unusual to him, he doesn’t comment on it. After all, you’re indeed known as a shy girl among the cheerleaders.

“I’m…I’m going straight to the point and be honest with you.” Is this really happening? You’re scared that if you were to speak more, your heart might leap out of your mouth from how hard it is pumping behind your ribs. You hold your bag tighter, trying to ground yourself.

“I’m listening,” he hums.

The words are simple. His voice is calm. Too calm, like he’s unaffected, like he doesn’t have a clue about what you’re about to say. It almost makes you falter.

For a second, you just stare at him. At the same face your mind has been haunted for weeks, at the same eyes you’ve been avoiding because they make everything feel too real.

Except everything is actually real. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.

Your fingers curl tighter around your bag.

“Did you…feel anything?” you ask, voice smaller than you intended. “That night.”

Heeseung’s brows pull together, confused. “What do you mean?”

Your throat burns. Stop. Turn around. Leave. 

“When you helped me,” you stubbornly continue, ignoring the self-preservation act your wolf’s pulling. “When you scented me. Did you feel something? Anything?”

There’s a shift in the air. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Heeseung’s shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens a fraction. A flash of something that leaves your heart hopeful crosses his face, but it leaves as soon as it comes.

“I was just helping you,” he finally says, almost too quickly. “You were in a bad state.”

The ache in your chest pulses, turning alive with each passing second.

“I know that,” you nod, almost too fast, the throbbing in your head comes back. The headache is well-guaranteed after this, you’re sure of it. “I know. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I just—I just need to know if you felt it too.”

“Felt what?”

You stare at him. God, he’s really making you say it. Is he truly clueless or is he playing with you? Whatever he is trying to do, he’s succeeding at making you feel smaller and…desperate.

“The pull,” you whisper after a while, “the connection.”

Silent stretches between the two of you. Heeseung returns your gaze, but his black eyes reveal nothing about his thoughts. 

You try again. “You felt it too…right?”

There it is. For a fleeting second, you think you see it. That flicker in his eyes. The subtle hesitation. The twitch in his jaw. It almost makes you feel hopeful.

Heeseung exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N,” he starts slower this time, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “There’s no such thing as that.”

If your heart was made of lead, you’re sure it’d clang to the floor so loud for how fast it drops.

“What?”

“Fated mates. Bond. Whatever you’re thinking.” He shakes his head, like he’s making a show of how ridiculous you sound. “That’s not real.”

The cracks finally shatter, allowing a big, gaping hole filled with utter anguish to take place in where your heart used to reside. Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens. 

“But—” you try, voice undeniably trembling now. “Then, what is this?”

Your hand presses weakly against your chest.

“Why does it hurt like this? Why does,” your voice cracks, your omega thrashing wildly inside you, “why does it hurt so much?”

For a split second, panic flashes across his face. There’s a change in his scent. A sharp, biting spice that’s stinging your nose and thick, briny salt that leaves your throat itchy. 

Because he knows. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows how he almost went psychosis the moment it happened to him three weeks ago. 

But Heeseung’s always been good at leaving—it’s the one thing that’s been keeping his heart in a safe chest without any chances of getting hurt. It’s almost cruel that he never really cares if leaving right after sex would hurt any of the omegas, but he’s never felt bad enough to stop.

And you feel like someone who will make him stay.

So he does what he knows best.

“It’s in your head,” he says, firmer now. “Probably just your heat cycle messing with you. Or stress.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, your chest feels hollow. Your omega, previously hysterical and angry, is now awfully quiet and wounded.

Right. It’s just stress, he said.

You wish it was just stress.

“Oh,” is the only word you can utter. Heeseung nods, as if convincing himself too, and takes a step back.

But for you, it feels too much like a line being drawn.

“Maybe you should get some rest. You look kind of pale,” he suggests, though his voice is slowly getting small the longer he watches the changes in your expression. You’re not looking at him now, just staring at your feet with trembling fists.

The wilting flowers are back in his senses, filling up his nose and beating at his heart like a bat. Heeseung bites his lips, swallowing down the guilt. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

The sight of his retreating back…why is it so blurry?

“You are so fucking stupid, Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s always wondered how his best friend’s citrusy pheromones are going to smell like when he’s mad. Because Jay never gets mad at him. His friend has so much patience that every playful banter always stays as just a playful banter.

But tonight, Heeseung finally senses it. Jay smells bitter, like overripe lemon left too long in hot water. There’s a sharp, metallic tang to it too, representing the control that he’s trying so hard to keep in check. In response to the alpha’s irritated scent, Heeseung’s dominant wolf is itching to draw his claws out, sensing it as a threat.

They’re standing at the backyard of the frat house, where the pool is glowing blue and the night sky is blinking stars. It’s quieter here, with less people hanging around. Many guests have preferred to dance inside, still in celebration mode post-winning.

“What the fuck were you thinking, trying to get into someone else’s pants right after her—her confession?” Jay scoffs in disbelief. He has his back facing Heeseung, the tense muscle of his shoulders visible through the outline of his Polo shirt. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, looks more disheveled. The collar of his shirt is misplaced, and there are faint lipstick marks staining his neck and the corner of his mouth. Jay had heard from Riki about what happened between Heeseung and you and the alpha was determined to drag Heeseung out of the bedroom, not before muttering a small apology to the omega he was with. It was all shouts and aggressive whispers between the two alphas until Riki managed to shoo them out.

Which brings them to this moment, where Jay is a ticking bomb and Heeseung is trying his best to calm down.  Jay didn’t exactly know who she was, just that he’d seen her face among the cheerleaders. While Heeseung, well, he’s too worked up to explain.

“Confession? What made you think—”

“You guys are fated mates, Heeseung. Can’t you fucking see it?” Jay whips his head around. “This pull you’re feeling is because you guys are fated mates. There’s no other explanation to it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw. “Those things don’t exist, Jongseong. Not to me.”

“Oh, come on. Then explain your sex problem.” Jay hisses, his eyes turning sharper. “You think I don’t know that you still can’t get your dick wet with other omegas?”

The burgundy-haired alpha doesn’t blink. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is when she could’ve died!” Jay snaps, his scent flaring with his nose. Heeseung grits his teeth, feeling challenged. 

Then, softer, like vulnerability leaking through his anger, Jay continues: “You could’ve died, Heeseung.”

Heeseung stills. “What?”

Jay lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think so little of this matter, don’t you?” His voice drops, tight and furious. “A half-bond between fated mates when left too long can cause death. And with the speed you’re going with all these nameless omegas, I bet it’ll be her turn to die first.”

Heeseung scoffs, but it’s weaker now. There’s a new fear settling in his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No,” Jay cuts in sharply. “You’re being stupid. I saw her just now. She’s pale as fuck.”

Heeseung’s quiet for a moment, staring into his friend’s eyes with almost the same amount of resentment. “It has nothing to do with me.”

Like a punishment to his lie, something twists sharply in his chest. But Heeseung is quick to mask his pain under a calm facade, gritting his teeth so hard he might break his jaw. Jay scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, so you’re doing this again.” Jay steps closer, not backing away. “You’re running away again, like the coward that you are. You’ll just run and run, deflect and disappear. Typical Heeseung.”

Jay knows he’ll hit a spot if he says it, but he couldn’t care less. He watches as the expression on Heeseung hardens, giving away the emotions he kept locked in his chest.

“Don’t.”

But Jay doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t.

“You think I don’t see it?” Jay presses, voice rising. “Every time something starts to mean something, you bolt. New omega, new bed, new distraction—anything to avoid actually feeling something real.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what this is!” Jay gestures wildly, frustration spilling over. “You found your mate, and instead of dealing with it, you’re out there fucking anything that moves just to prove you’re still in control.”

Silence slams between them, heavy and ugly. Both alphas are holding back from spiraling, neck straining from self-control and simmering anger.

Heeseung’s laugh this time is cold. “Mate?” he repeats, like the word tastes disgusting. “You really believe in that shit?”

Jay stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face. “I believe in what’s right in front of me.”

“There’s nothing in front of you,” Heeseung shoots back. “She’s just an omega I helped. That’s it.”

“Then why her?” Jay fires immediately. “Why can you find her in a crowd? Why does your scent stick to her for days—for weeks? Why can’t you even touch another omega without looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Heeseung falters, his words failing him as Jay hits him with those facts. His shaky stance doesn’t go unnoticed by the alpha, though. He’s quick to seize the chance.

Jay inhales sharply. “You know I’m right, Heeseung. You and Y/N share a bond.”

“So what?!” Heeseung snaps, frustration finally cracking through. “So what if there’s a bond? You want me to just—what? Drop everything? Play house? Act like I’m suddenly someone I’m not?”

Heeseung meets Jay’s fiery gaze head-on and shoves his friend harshly. “Stay out of it, Jay. I swear to fucking God.”

“And what? Watch you let her die because you couldn’t care less to acknowledge the bond?” Jay lets out a hollow laugh, pushing Heeseung back just as hard. “And then I watch you die?”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about this.”

Their scents clash; sharp citrus and aggressive spice filling up the space like a warning siren. It almost turns physical, Riki almost bursts through the door when he sees their chests almost touching. But it is Jay who stops first.

Not because he wants to. But because he’s thinking of you.

“My parents are fated mates, Heeseung.” Jay starts, quieter, his voice losing its harsh edges. “Doesn’t mean you don’t believe in it, it isn’t real to other people.”

Heeseung remains quiet, his chest still moving rapidly.

Jay’s eyes turn glassy. He retreats one more step away from Heeseung. “If you don’t want her, reject the bond properly,” he says, breathing hard. “You’re letting someone know that you don’t want her as your mate. At least have the decency to be kind about it.”

Jay unclenches his fists.

“Don’t drag her through this half-assed bullshit where you keep hurting her just because you can’t make a decision.”

Heeseung freezes. Out of all words being shouted tonight, it is this quiet resignation from Jay that hits his heart the hardest.

Am I being cruel? Heeseung lowers his gaze. Am I a coward?

Heeseung doesn’t wait too long for an answer.

“Stop being a coward, Heeseung. I beg you.”

The words hang between them, like unwanted vines curling around a trunk of a tree. Heeseung’s gaze stays rooted to the ground, trying to find his voice.

But he doesn’t get the chance to.

“...Heeseung?”

Your voice, soft as it is, cuts through the air like a blade. Both alphas turn to where you’re standing by the door. The faint light spilling from the moon only highlights how pale your face is, void of any warmth and colour.

You stand there, one hand gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, your other pressed weakly against your chest. Your eyes, God, your eyes. They’re glassy, unfocused, yet locked onto him like you’ve found something you’ve been searching for your entire life.

Beside him, Heeseung can sense the way Jay’s body tenses the way his does.

“Heeseung…” you call for him again and move to get closer.

But then you flinch. Your entire body recoils, your nose scrunches. 

There, lingering around Heeseung like an unwanted mark, is a scent you know too well. Fruity bubblegum and cloying cotton candy; a scent that flashes pink in your head, turning into a female rage that hits too close to home. Your gaze catches the shape of someone’s mouth staining his golden skin, and something inside you breaks.

Narin.

Heeseung smells like Narin.

Your hand instinctively goes to cover your nose, eyes slowly going wide. The room goes silent, holding its breath as Heeseung feels it. 

The fleeting second where something inside you shatters.

Heeseung steps forward. “Y/N—”

But you retreat faster, away from him like he’s a disease that could kill you. 

“No,” your voice cracks, shaking your head as if trying to physically deny what your body is already registering. “No, no, no…”

Your breath comes out in shallow bursts, your fingers clawing at your shirt. 

It hurts. It hurts so bad. 

It’s like every system in your body is collapsing, failing to cope with the ultimate rejection that comes in the scent of another woman. Your fist hits your chest, forcing the air to flow in because it suddenly feels almost impossible to breathe.

Heeseung feels it now—really, really feels it. The bond is thrashing, frantic, like it’s holding onto something that’s slipping through its grasp. The pained scent of withering daisies starts filling up the air, suffocating both alphas instantly. Jay shifts uncomfortably, looking back and forth from Heeseung to you in alert.

“Hey, hey—Y/N,” Heeseung tries again, softer this time, reaching out instinctively. “Look at me. Y/N—”

“Don’t!” Your voice spikes, sharp with fear. Heeseung freezes, his throat closing up when he sees something you’re yet to realise.

That’s when you feel it—something warm trickling down your nose. You instinctively wipe it and stare at the red liquid smearing your fingers.

Blood. Then another drop falls on your palm. Before you can react properly, it already spills down your chin, past your fingers, dripping onto the floor, tainting the white tiles like a crime scene.

“Fuck.” Jay curses under his breath, his wolf perking up in alarm.

Beside him, Heeseung is beyond agitated. “Y/N!”

He doesn’t think. Heeseung lunges forward, longing to be close to you at that moment. But you’re already shaking your head rapidly, tears spilling uncontrollably now.

“Stop!” you gasp, pale lips trembling like dying petals. “I can’t do this—I can’t—”

Inside you, your omega is screaming in pain. In betrayal. In self-preservation. Her voice, raw and jagged, torn by pain, echoes in your head. 

An instinct, primal and desperate, takes over your being.

Cut it off.

Cut it off before it kills you.

You clutch at your chest, lungs burning up like a wildfire. Tears spill out freely, drenching your face in anguish and agony.

Cut it off!

And finally, you let go.

Across from you, just a few paces away, Heeseung feels it like a force, stopping him in his tracks.

It doesn’t come gradually, or slowly. It rips through his body. A violent, invisible force tearing straight through his chest like something sacred being forcibly severed. His breath is knocked out of him.

“Fuck!” Somewhere behind him, Jay is also spiraling, realising what’s going down.

But Heeseung doesn’t know. He staggers, his knees almost giving up as excruciating pain spreads from the scent gland in his neck down to his chest. Something inside him—something he never fully acknowledges—finally snaps. He almost screams.

A thick veil of tears wells up instantly, blurring his vision faster than he could process it.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks, the cracks showing up like poison in daggers. Across from him, you’re already sobbing.

It’s loud and raw, a wailing that stops even the loud music from inside. Your scent, bitter and beyond distressed, is now flooding the space like a broken dam. Your body folds in on itself as if trying to contain something that’s already shattered beyond repair.

Inside of you, your omega goes silent completely.

And it terrifies him. A lot. 

Heeseung clutches his neck, where his scent gland is pulsing violently, throbbing in an indescribable pain that feels like it could kill him. And when his eyes find yours, he realises with dread that the pull is no longer there. 

He can’t feel you. His wolf can’t feel your wolf.

The constant, aching thread that’s been tying him to you; it’s gone.

You cut the bond from your side.

The half-bond, already fragile with doubt and cowardice, is hanging by its loose thread. If it was a red string like many people had said, Heeseung’s sure it’d waver pathetically by his finger, trembling like a thread losing its kite.

“What…What did you do?” he whispers, voice hollow and shaky.

Heeseung takes a step forward again, ignoring Jay’s warning voice from behind him. His focus becomes singular on you, not minding the many pairs of eyes watching from the other side of the door.

This time, his step is slower and careful, like approaching something fragile. Something that is already broken.

Someone wounded.

You don’t move toward him. You don’t even spare him a look. You just cry, quietly, as now it feels empty where the bond used to be. You can’t feel him. 

You can only feel pain.

“Y/N…”

“...I want to leave.”

You wipe your nose, the blood still fresh and wet. You lean on the door for support, still trying to hold yourself up despite the urge to just collapse. Heeseung has to force restraint on himself, holding himself back from running to you. He searches your face, trying to catch your eyes, terrified beyond reason.

The silence is deafening.

At last, you lift your gaze, misty eyes meeting misty eyes.

“I ended it.” Your voice, used to be soft and warm, is now cold. Heeseung feels his lungs stop functioning.

“There’s nothing between us anymore.”

And that’s when it hits him brutally.

Heeseung didn’t just push you away.

He’s lost you.

sorry for the cliffhanger! part 2 coming soon 🔜

dividers from: @cursed-carmine 🤎

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll

fic taglist: @twocupsofsuga @rayofsunshineeee @all4moi @cutehoons02 @barbiecuedotcom @vmpiricou @kitteaasstuff @sosocide @lhspeachie @sooooobean @bingka @yenienha

[stwryun]

JUNO — LEE HEESEUNG | part one

synopsis : living next door to lee heeseung has always been a nightmare loud, cocky, and impossible to ignore until one reckless night at a party leaves you waking up in his bed and running before it can mean anything you try to forget it ever happened, until two lines change everything, and suddenly the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.

pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader

trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity

word count : 19.6k

warnings : heeseung is a an absolute asshole, accidental pregnancy, alot panic and guilt, abortion / termination discussion, fear of the future, alcohol use, one night stand, dirty talking, cursing, foreplay, dry humping, oral, drunk sex ( consent is present ) , unprotected sex, mild degradation, hair pulling, creampie

🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻‍❄️ 3 ! : omggg finallyy juno part one is out, hope you have an absolute amazing time when reading. navi did the proofreading for me ilysmm <3333

The bass from the apartment next door was so loud it made your pencil roll off the desk for the third time tonight thump thump thump. Each beat vibrated through the thin wall like it was personally trying to ruin your life.

You stared at the half finished notes in front of you, frustration bubbling hot in your chest. Midterms were in two weeks. Two weeks and Lee Heeseung, the campus golden boy, basketball captain, and your personal nightmare of a neighbor was throwing another one of his legendary parties like tomorrow didn’t exist.

This was the nth time. The nth damn time since you’d moved in six months ago. With a sharp exhale, you shoved your chair back and stormed out of your apartment, not even bothering to change out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. The hallway reeked of spilled beer and expensive cologne.

You could already hear the chaos before you even reached his door. Laughter, glasses clinking, some girl’s high pitched giggle cutting through the music.

You banged on the door harder than necessary. It took a few seconds before someone inside yelled over the noise, “Yoo Heeseung! Someone’s banging at your front door!”The door finally swung open.

Heeseung stood there in all his infuriating glory tall, broad shouldered, black hair slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His button up was half undone, revealing a silver chain that rested on his collarbones and a glimpse of toned chest. Behind him, the party pulsed with red solo cups, dim lights, and at least half the basketball team.

A pretty girl with long hair and a tight dress was pressed close to his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. He’d clearly been in the middle of charming her into his bed by the end of the night.

The second his dark eyes landed on you, that signature cocky smirk curved his lips.“Hi, miss morals,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, like he’d been waiting for this exact interruption.

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Can you turn it down? The music is too loud.”

Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. The girl behind him shifted, clearly annoyed at the sudden attention shift, but Heeseung didn’t spare her a glance now.

“Miss morals strikes again,” he laughed, the sound rich and mocking. It sent an unwelcome spark of irritation down your spine. “What’s the problem this time, neighbor? Come to bless us with your righteous presence?”

“I’m serious, Heeseung,” you said, voice sharp as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. “Not everyone has the pleasure of partying all night. Others have to actually study to pass their exams whereas others can just have daddy pay for everything when they fuck up.”The words hung in the air between you.

Heeseung’s smirk faltered instantly. His jaw tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. For a split second, something raw annoyance, maybe even hurt flashed across his face before he quickly shoved it back into that indifferent mask. His eyes darkened, the playful glint gone.

“Whatever,” he muttered, voice suddenly flat and cold. “I’ll lower the volume.”He said, “Thank you,” you replied curtly, refusing to let the small victory show on your face even though your heart was hammering.

Heeseung didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped back and shut the door right in your face with a firm click that echoed down the empty hallway.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door, fists clenched at your sides. The music inside dropped almost immediately, not completely off, but low enough that you could finally breathe. Muffled laughter and voices still filtered through, but at least your walls wouldn’t shake anymore.

“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, turning on your heel and heading back to your apartment.As you closed your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, eyes closed. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? Why did one look from him always manage to crawl under your skin like this?

You shook your head, forcing the thoughts away. Back to studying. Back to pretending Lee Heeseung didn’t exist. But deep down, you already knew tonight’s silence between you two had just gotten a little louder.

You were halfway through rewriting your notes when your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a new message.

yunjin : you know sunghoon righttt? he’s throwing a massive party after midterms and he personally invited me. pleeease come with me?? i don’t wanna go alone 🥺

You stared at the text, already feeling the familiar dread settle in your stomach. Another party of course. You typed back quickly

you : No thanks im good have fun tho

The two dots appeared immediately.

yunjin : babe come onnnn

yunjin : it’s after midterms!! you deserve to relax

yunjin : sunghoon’s parties are actually fun i swear

yunjin : there’ll be good music, free drinks, and i heard the basketball team is coming too 👀

You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near the basketball team especially not after tonight’s lovely encounter with their captain.

you : exactly why I’m not going pass

yunjin : please please please i really like sunghoon and this could be my chance

yunjin : i’ll owe you big time i’ll even help you study for the next round of exams i’ll buy you that expensive matcha you like for a month!!

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Yunjin was relentless when she wanted something. And honestly she had been there for you through every late night breakdown this semester. Saying no felt a little cruel the pleading texts kept coming

yunjin : i won’t leave your side the whole night ( she is lying )

yunjin : we can leave early if you hate it , pretty please with cherries on top?? 🥺🍒

You sighed deeply, already knowing you were about to lose this battle.

you : fine, ONE HOUR that’s it if it sucks, we’re out.

yunjin : YESSSSS!!! you’re the best i love you so much

yunjin : we can dress up together at my place okay , see you tomorrow <33

You tossed your phone onto the desk and dropped your head into your hands. Great, just what you needed. Another night surrounded by loud music, drunk athletes, and the very real possibility of running into the Lee Heeseung again.

You glanced at the wall that separated your apartment from his. The music was still playing faintly, but at least it was bearable now. Just one party, you could survive one party right?

The next morning, the art history lecture hall was already filling up with the usual mix of sleepy students and last minute crammers when you slipped into your regular seat in the middle row.

The faint scent of fresh coffee and old books lingered in the air. Yunjin dropped dramatically into the chair on your right, her long hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, eyes bright with far too much excitement for a 9 am class.

On your left, Soobin settled in quietly, tall frame folding gracefully into the seat. He placed his neatly organized notebook on the desk and pulled out a perfectly sharpened pencil, offering you a soft, reassuring smile.

Soobin was always like this calm, steady, the kind of friend who showed up without making a fuss. He was the complete opposite of the loud, chaotic energy that seemed to follow Heeseung everywhere.

Yunjin, however, was already completely distracted. She was leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, openly staring toward the front rows where Sunghoon sat chatting with a couple of friends. Her gaze was soft and dreamy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips every time he laughed at something.

You nudged her arm with your elbow, voice low and teasing. “You’re oogling him again it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”Yunjin didn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’m not oogling, im appreciating art,” she whispered back, still not tearing her eyes away. “Look at him he’s literally perfect.”

Soobin let out a quiet chuckle beside you, shaking his head as he flipped open his notebook. “Sure ‘appreciating’ that’s why half your notes from last week were just little hearts around his name.” He teased her, to which she replied,

“Traitor,” Yunjin hissed playfully, finally glancing at both of you as her cheeks flushed pink. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”The light banter continued until Soobin turned to you, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, I heard there was a party at Heeseung’s last night, did you survive the noise?”

You let out a long, dramatic groan and slumped back in your seat, the memory of last night’s confrontation still fresh and irritating. “Barely. That idiot had the music blasting so loud my textbooks were literally vibrating on the desk. I had to march over there in my hoodie and sweatpants like some angry neighbor from a sitcom again.”

Soobin listened attentively, his expression patient and sympathetic. He never interrupted your rants or told you to just ignore it. He just nodded along, dark eyes focused on you, making you feel genuinely heard.

It was one of the many reasons you treasured his friendship he was thoughtful, kind, and never loud or arrogant for the sake of it. The polar opposite of Heeseung.

“And of course he answered the door half dressed with some girl hanging off his arm like a trophy,” you continued, voice dripping with annoyance. “Called me ‘miss morals’ like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

Then when I pointed out that not everyone has a rich daddy to bail them out when they party instead of studying, he got all pissy, sucked in this dramatic breath, and slammed the door right in my face. He’s such an entitled asshole.”

Soobin hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow. “That sounds exhausting, you should’ve texted me you know, i could’ve come over with snacks and we could’ve studied together instead of dealing with his nonsense alone.”

You smiled faintly at the offer, warmth cutting through the irritation. “Next time, maybe at least someone in this building has basic human decency.”

Yunjin finally tore her gaze away from Sunghoon long enough to grin at you. “Heeseung’s just bored and likes getting a rise out of you if you stopped reacting, he’d probably get bored and stop.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to live next door to the human equivalent of a walking migraine.”The professor walked in moments later, cutting off any further complaints.

The next hour passed in a blur of projected slides on Renaissance techniques, quiet note taking, and the occasional whispered comment from Yunjin whenever Sunghoon shifted in his seat.

When class finally ended, the three of you packed up your things and joined the stream of students flowing out into the crowded hallway. The air was filled with chatter about upcoming midterms, weekend plans, and the usual campus gossip.

As you walked side by side, Yunjin suddenly looped her arm through yours, her excitement bubbling over again. “So, about Sunghoon’s party after midterms you’re definitely coming, right? And Soobin you should come too! It’ll be so much more fun with all three of us there.”

Soobin blinked, surprised, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Wait you’re actually going?” He looked at you, genuinely shocked. “I thought you hated parties, especially ones thrown by the popular crowd.”

You shrugged, already regretting your decision a little. “Yunjin begged a lot and guilt tripped me with matcha promises. One hour max, if it sucks, I’m dragging her out.”

Yunjin squealed happily and squeezed your arm. “See? She’s coming! So you have to come too, Soobinn please?”Before Soobin could respond, a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise from behind you.

“Can’t imagine miss morals at a party but I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Your stomach dropped, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

Heeseung was leaning casually against a set of lockers a few feet away, arms crossed over his varsity jacket, that signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. He must have overheard the entire conversation.

His dark eyes locked onto yours with clear amusement, like he lived for these moments of catching you off guard.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Heat crept up your neck partly from annoyance, partly from the embarrassment of him hearing your plans.

Yunjin stifled a laugh beside you while Soobin just shook his head quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

Heeseung’s low chuckle followed you as the three of you kept walking, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. God, you really, really hated that guy.Midterms week stretched into a brutal two week marathon, and as an art curator major, you felt every single hour of it in your bones.

Your apartment had become a war zone of curated chaos towering stacks of books on museum exhibition design, printed slides from Art Conservation and Curatorial Practices, mood boards pinned to the wall for your upcoming gallery proposal project, and color coded flashcards scattered across every surface.

Late nights blurred into early mornings as you hunched over your laptop, drafting proposals for hypothetical exhibits while trying to memorize the intricate history of 19th century European collections. Sleep was a distant dream. Caffeine was your only reliable companion.

And then there was Heeseung.

He didn’t blast music or bring girls over every single night that would have been almost predictable. No, he was crueler than that. He chose random days, like he knew exactly how to keep you off balance, turning your already exhausting study schedule into a minefield of unwanted interruptions.

The first time hit on the second night of midterms. You were deep into analyzing a case study on museum ethics when the wall behind your desk started to vibrate faintly. At first it was just low music.

Then came the giggles two distinct female voices, breathy and flirtatious. Heeseung’s deep laugh cut through it all, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies moving against furniture.

“Fuck, Heeseung you’re so good at this,” one of the girls moaned loudly, the words carrying crystal clear through the thin shared wall. The headboard started thumping a slow, steady rhythm against your wall rhythmic, insistent, growing faster.

You could hear the wet slap of skin, her exaggerated gasps turning into full throated cries every time he thrust.You yanked your noise canceling headphones on so hard the band dug into your temples, cranking the volume until classical music drowned most of it out.

But you could still feel it, the steady bang bang bang vibrating through your desk, through your chair, through your skull. Your cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment and pure rage.

'Of course he’s fucking some random girl while I’m trying to memorize the difference between Baroque and Rococo curation techniques.' You thought bitterly, stabbing your highlighter across the page. Must be nice to have zero responsibilities except basketball and dick appointments.

It stopped around 2 a.m., but the damage was done. You only managed three hours of sleep before your 8 a.m. lecture.

The next morning, you were running on pure spite and too much coffee when you caught Heeseung in the hallway just as he was stepping out of his apartment. He looked annoyingly fresh — hair still damp from a shower, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, that perpetual cocky smirk already in place.

You stopped right in front of him, arms crossed tightly. “Keep it down next time,” you said flatly, voice low but sharp. “Some of us are actually trying to pass our midterms instead of auditioning for porn.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aw, miss morals heard everything? Didn’t know you were such a light sleeper.” You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Just tone it down, the headboard banging is ridiculous.”

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending another spike of irritation through you. “Noted.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Though from the sounds of it last night, she seemed to enjoy the banging.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away without another word, his soft laugh following you down the hall.The next disruption came four days later. A random Thursday when you had a massive group project due on modern curatorial strategies.

You’d just settled in with your laptop open to a half finished exhibition proposal when his door slammed open down the hall. One girl this time, but she was even louder.

The moment they got inside, the sounds started again her high pitched whimpers, Heeseung’s low, cocky murmurs “Yeah? You like that? Tell me how much you want it” followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of them going at it on what sounded like his couch first, then migrating to the bed.

The headboard slammed against the wall so hard your framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night rattled. Her moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, each one punctuated by Heeseung’s grunts and the filthy slap of bodies. “Harder fuck, right there, Heeseung don’t stop—”

You ended up studying in your bed instead, laptop balanced on your knees, pillows stacked around you like a fortress. Headphones on full blast. Still, every thrust made the wall tremble.

Every moan crawled under your skin and made focusing on your notes feel impossible. By the time they finally finished (or at least quieted down) around midnight, your eyes were burning and your proposal was only half done.

You hated how your body reacted sometimes not with attraction, but with pure, simmering resentment that made your stomach twist.That same night, after the noises finally stopped, you grabbed your phone in a fit of exhausted anger and texted him.

you : keep the noise down, some people are trying to study for actual grades, not coast on basketball talent and daddy’s money

His reply came faster than you expected. A picture popped up first. A close up selfie of Heeseung lying in bed, shirtless, messy hair, lazy smirk on his face, with the caption

heeseung : sorry, miss morals hard to stay quiet when they scream my name like that

heeseung : next time i’ll try to fuck quieter or maybe you can just join and tell me how to do it right?

You stared at the message, face flaming with a mix of rage and disbelief. You immediately blocked the image from your mind ( and definitely did not linger on the way his abs looked in the dim lighting ) before typing back a single furious reply

you : delete my number, asshole

The worst random night came during the final stretch, just three days before your last exams.

You were pulling an all nighter on your capstone project a full digital mock up of a contemporary art exhibit you’d spent weeks perfecting when the noises started again around 11 p.m. This time it was two girls.

Their laughter spilled into the hallway first, then straight through your wall. Heeseung’s voice was low and teasing, the kind of filthy charm that probably worked on every girl on campus.

Soon the bed was creaking loudly, headboard banging in a frantic rhythm while both girls moaned in tandem one breathy and high, the other deeper and more desperate.

“Heeseung oh god, yes fuck me like that—” mixed with wet, obscene sounds that left zero doubt about exactly what was happening next door. The wall vibrated so intensely your coffee mug slid an inch across the desk.

You sat there in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, staring at your glowing screen, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every moan, every dirty encouragement from Heeseung, every rhythmic thud felt like a personal attack on the one thing you actually cared about your future.

Your grades, your dream of curating real exhibitions someday. While I’m over here trying not to fail out of the only thing I’m good at, you thought, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard, he’s over there living his best life with a rotating cast of girls screaming his name.

You wore the headphones until your ears rang. You even tried white noise apps, earplugs underneath nothing fully blocked it. The sex noises went on for nearly two hours that night, loud and shameless, until they finally quieted around 1:30 a.m.

By the end of the two weeks, you were running on fumes dark circles under your eyes, caffeine shakes in your hands, and a permanent knot of irritation lodged in your chest whenever you passed his door.

The random nights had been spaced out just enough to feel like psychological warfare instead of constant chaos.Heeseung never once toned it down. Never once seemed to care that someone on the other side of the wall was actually trying to build a future that didn’t involve daddy’s money or NBA scouts.

When Friday morning finally arrived and your last exam was over, you dragged yourself back to the apartment building, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The hallway was quiet for once. Heeseung’s door looked innocently closed.

You unlocked your own door, stepped inside, and immediately collapsed face first onto your bed, still in your clothes midterms were done.But the resentment toward the boy next door had only grown sharper and Sunghoon’s party was tonight. You groaned into your pillow one hour in and out. Just don’t kill Heeseung on sight.

You took the quickest shower of your life, and changed into the first comfortable outfit you could find—a simple black crop top that showed just a sliver of your midriff and your favorite pair of dark jeans—comfortable, practical, safe.

You texted Yunjin that you were ready to head over to her place to “get ready together,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of your clothes—big mistake. Yunjin’s apartment was only two blocks away, and the second you stepped inside, she took one look at you and gasped like you had personally offended her.

“No no absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips, eyes scanning you up and down with pure horror. “You cannot go to Sunghoon’s party looking like that.”

You glanced down at yourself, confused. “What’s wrong with this? It’s cute it’s comfortable.”“Cute? Comfortable?” Yunjin repeated, already dragging you toward her bedroom like a woman on a mission.

“Babe, we’re going to a party, not the library. You just survived two weeks of hell tonight you’re supposed to look hot, not like you’re about to give a museum tour.”

Before you could protest, she flung open her closet and started pulling out clothes with frightening speed. She held up a black mini skirt dangerously short, made of soft leather like material and a sheer black button up shirt that was practically see through.

“Try these,” she ordered, shoving the hanger into your hands. You stared at the outfit like it might bite you. “Yunjin, no way, that skirt is barely legal and the shirt is see through i’m not wearing that.”

“Yes way, you are,” she sang, already pushing you toward the bathroom. “You agreed to come to the party that means you’re under my styling jurisdiction for tonight go change now”

You argued the entire time you were changing. “This is ridiculous! im going to freeze, people are going to stare i look like I’m trying way too hard—”

But Yunjin was relentless. The second you stepped out in the mini skirt and sheer shirt ( with a black bralette underneath so you weren’t completely exposed ), she clapped her hands and squealed.

“Oh my god, yes! Look at you!” She spun you around in front of her full length mirror. The skirt hugged your hips and ended high on your thighs, making your legs look longer.

The sheer shirt draped softly over your shoulders, the black bralette visible underneath in a way that was teasing but not outright scandalous. “You look insane like, dangerously hot.”

You tugged at the hem of the skirt, cheeks burning. “I feel naked. Can't I at least wear the jeans over this or something?”“No,” she said firmly, already sitting you down in front of her vanity. “We’re doing makeup now sit still.”

For the next twenty minutes, Yunjin worked her magic. Winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, soft smoky eyes, a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones, and a bold red lip that made your mouth look fuller. She even styled your hair into loose, effortless waves that framed your face perfectly.

When she finally stepped back, she let out a satisfied sigh.“Anyone would worship the ground you walk on looking like this,” she said, grinning proudly. “Trust me tonight, you’re not the stressed out art curator girl who yells at her neighbor. You’re the girl who turns heads even Heeseung won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small flutter of nerves mixed with reluctant confidence settled in your stomach as you looked at your reflection. The outfit was way bolder than anything you’d normally wear, but you had to admit it looked good.

“Fine,” you muttered, smoothing down the skirt one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re leaving early and if Heeseung says one word about ‘miss morals’ in this outfit, I’m pouring a drink on him.”Yunjin laughed and linked her arm with yours. “Deal now let’s go make Sunghoon’s party unforgettable.”

You and Yunjin barely made it out of her apartment before your phone buzzed with a text from Soobin saying he was already waiting downstairs. The three of you had agreed he would drive so none of you had to worry about getting home later.

The elevator ride down felt too short. Your heart was already beating a little faster than usual partly from the unfamiliar outfit, partly from the knowledge that you were actually going to a party after surviving two brutal weeks of midterms.

The black mini skirt kept riding up slightly with every step, and you kept tugging nervously at the hem while Yunjin wouldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked.

When you stepped out of the building into the cool evening air, Soobin’s car was parked right in front, engine idling. He was leaning casually against the driver’s side, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up and saw the two of you approaching, his eyes widened noticeably.

Especially when they landed on you. Soobin froze for a second, his usual calm expression cracking into pure, genuine shock. His gaze traveled slowly from your loose waves and sharp winged eyeliner, down to the sheer black shirt that subtly revealed the black bralette underneath, then to the dangerously short leather like mini skirt that made your legs look endless.

He blinked once, twice, before quickly clearing his throat and straightening up, ears turning a light shade of pink.“Wow” he said, voice a little higher than his normal soft tone. “You both look really nice like, really nice.”

Yunjin grinned triumphantly, looping her arm through yours and squeezing. “See? Told you! Even Soobin is shook, she looks hot, right?”

You felt heat creep up your neck and quickly crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how different you looked from your usual oversized hoodie and jeans self.

“It’s all Yunjin’s doing. She basically held me hostage in her room until I changed. I tried to wear my normal clothes and she acted like I committed a crime.”

Soobin gave a small, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the back door for both of you like the gentleman he was. “No, it really suits you, you look great tonight.” His compliment was sincere and gentle, making the awkwardness feel a little softer. “Ready to go? Sunghoon’s place isn’t too far from here.”

The car ride was filled with easy, light chatter that helped calm your nerves. Yunjin sat in the front passenger seat, already buzzing with excitement about seeing Sunghoon, while you sat in the back, occasionally tugging at your skirt and staring out the window at the passing streetlights.

Soobin kept the conversation flowing comfortably, light complaints about how brutal midterms had been, predictions about how wild the party might get, and Yunjin’s endless teasing about how

Sunghoon had “personally invited” her. Every now and then Soobin would glance at you through the rearview mirror, still looking a little flustered whenever your eyes met.

Before you knew it, Soobin was pulling up to a large off campus house that was already pulsing with loud music and flashing colored lights. Cars lined both sides of the street, and groups of people were laughing and chatting on the front lawn, red cups in hand.

The three of you climbed out of the car, and the heavy bass from inside immediately hit you like a wave. The night air smelled like a mix of cheap beer, sweet perfume, and fresh cut grass. Yunjin practically bounced on her heels with excitement as the three of you walked up the pathway toward the front door.

Sunghoon was standing right at the entrance, playing the perfect host in a simple black shirt and jeans. His sharp, handsome features broke into a warm, genuine smile the moment he spotted your group approaching.

“Hey! You guys actually made it,” he greeted cheerfully, voice carrying easily over the noise from inside. His eyes lingered on Yunjin for an extra beat, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yunjin, glad you came and you brought friends, nice.”

He gave Soobin a friendly nod and then turned his attention to you, eyebrows raising slightly in pleasant surprise as he took in your bold outfit. “Hey! you clean up really well. Welcome to the party, hope you guys have fun tonight.”

You managed a small, polite smile, still feeling slightly out of your element. “Thanks for inviting us.”Sunghoon handed each of you a red solo cup filled with something fruity and strong smelling a sweet cocktail that had a sharp kick of alcohol when you took your first cautious sip.

“Drinks are flowing inside help yourselves to whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, beer pong in the living room, and dancing. Pretty much everywhere enjoy!”

Yunjin thanked him brightly, her cheeks already a little flushed with excitement, and steered you and Soobin further into the crowded house. The interior was packed wall to wall with people.

Students were laughing loudly, dancing in the middle of the living room, playing intense games of beer pong, and making out in dimly lit corners. The music was loud but not yet overwhelming, colorful lights flashing across the walls and bodies.

For the first few minutes, the three of you stuck close together, weaving through the crowd while sipping your drinks. Soobin stayed protectively near your side, occasionally leaning down to say something quiet and reassuring whenever he noticed you looking a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.

Then you felt it. That familiar, annoying prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You turned your head slightly, and there he was.

Heeseung was leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He was surrounded by a small group of his closest friends—Beomgyu laughing at something on his phone, Jake with his usual bright smile, and Jay nursing his own drink while scanning the room.

Heeseung looked effortlessly good tonight in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips. His hair was styled in that signature messy but perfect way.

The moment his dark eyes found you across the crowded room, his conversation with the guys stopped mid sentence.

His gaze dragged slowly and shamelessly down your body, taking in the short black mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs, the sheer shirt that teased the black bralette underneath, the way the outfit accentuated your curves before snapping back up to your face.

For once, his usual cocky smirk didn’t appear instantly. Instead, there was a flash of genuine surprise, followed by something darker, more heated, and appreciative.

He pushed off the wall and started walking straight toward your group, completely ignoring whatever Beomgyu was saying behind him.

“Well, well, well,” Heeseung drawled when he was close enough, his voice cutting smoothly through the music. His eyes were still shamelessly roaming over you. “Look who decided to show up. Miss morals in a mini skirt i almost didn’t recognize you damn.”

You felt your stomach twist with that familiar mix of irritation and unwanted warmth. Before you could even open your mouth to snap back, Yunjin jumped in defensively, stepping slightly in front of you with a bright but sharp smile.

“Excuse me, Heeseung? She looks amazing, and she doesn’t need your backhanded compliments,” Yunjin said, tilting her head with fake sweetness.

“Unlike some people who only know how to throw loud parties and bring random girls over during midterms, maybe focus on your own game instead of commenting on her outfit.”

Heeseung chuckled lowly, clearly amused by Yunjin’s quick defense, but his eyes never left you. Jake, Beomgyu, and Jay were now watching the exchange from a few feet away, Beomgyu smirking like he was enjoying the show and Jake looking mildly entertained.

“Relax, Yunjin,” Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m just saying that she cleaned up dangerous tonight, didn’t think our neighbor owned anything shorter than ankle length. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay back me up here. She looks good, right?”

Beomgyu grinned and raised his cup in a lazy toast. “Yeah, she do be looking fire tonight.”Jake nodded with a bright laugh. “For real, new look suits you.”Jay just shook his head with a small smile, staying quiet but clearly entertained.

You rolled your eyes, lifting your red solo cup to your lips to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t start with me tonight, Heeseung i’m only here for one hour, and I’d rather not spend it dealing with your nonsense.”

Heeseung tilted his head, that signature cocky smirk fully back in place now as he took another slow step closer. The way he was looking at you made the noisy room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

“Gonna dance tonight, or are you just here to supervise everyone else’s fun like usual, miss morals?”

You didn’t even give Heeseung the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, you flipped him off with a sharp middle finger, turned on your heel, and grabbed Yunjin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Yunjin laughed loudly, clearly proud of your reaction, and let you drag her deeper into the crowded house while Heeseung’s low chuckle followed behind you. Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay were already teasing him in the background, but you refused to look back.

For the first half hour, the party actually felt manageable. You stuck close to Yunjin and Soobin, sipping from your red solo cup and people watching from a quieter corner of the living room.

The music was loud, the lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, and the alcohol slowly started to loosen the tight knot of stress that midterms had left in your chest. Then Sunghoon appeared again.

He approached your group with that easy, charming smile, eyes mostly locked on Yunjin. “Hey want to dance?”Yunjin’s face lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. She turned to you quickly, squeezing your hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit, right? I’ll be right back!”

Before you could even answer, she was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor with Sunghoon’s hand on her waist, now it was just you and Soobin.

You tried to keep the conversation light, but the longer you stood there, the more the party energy started to pull at you. The drink in your cup was strong and sweet, and after two weeks of pure academic hell, the idea of letting loose felt dangerously tempting.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath. You downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn sliding warmly down your throat. Then you grabbed another cup from a passing tray and started sipping again. Why not? Midterms were over. You deserved this.

Soobin noticed and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t judge. He stayed beside you, chatting quietly, making sure you weren’t completely alone. But after a while, you started feeling guilty. He was sweet, always listening, always there and here he was babysitting you instead of enjoying the party.

“Go talk to your friends,” you told him, giving him a gentle push toward a group of guys waving at him from across the room. “Seriously, Soobin i’ll be fine, i don’t want you wasting your night stuck with me. Go have fun i’ll text you if I need anything.”

He hesitated, looking concerned, but you begged him with your best pleading eyes until he finally nodded. “Okay but stay safe, text me if anything feels off.”

Once Soobin walked away to join his friends, you let yourself drift toward the dance floor. The alcohol was hitting nicely now a warm, fuzzy buzz that made the music feel better and your body lighter.

You moved to the edge of the crowd first, swaying gently, then slowly worked your way deeper into the pulsing bodies.

You didn’t notice him at first. But Heeseung had been watching you the entire time. From the moment Yunjin disappeared with Sunghoon, his eyes had followed you. He watched you down your drinks. He watched you convince Soobin to leave.

And now he watched as you finally stepped fully onto the dance floor, hips moving to the heavy beat, the short black mini skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, the sheer shirt catching the flashing lights.

Heeseung set his cup down and started moving through the crowd toward you, slow and deliberate. When he was close enough, he didn’t just grab you like most guys would. Instead, he leaned in slightly, voice low and surprisingly respectful against the loud music.

“Hey can I dance with you?”

You turned your head, alcohol making you bold. Your eyes met his, and for once, you didn’t immediately snap at him. The buzz in your veins, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t look away…it made something reckless spark inside you.

You nodded “Yeah okay.” Only then did Heeseung step closer. The moment he did, the space between you disappeared. His body pressed lightly against yours at first, hands hovering respectfully before you started moving together.

The music was sensual, slow and heavy, and your bodies naturally fell into rhythm. It didn’t stay innocent for long. Heeseung’s hands gradually grew bolder one sliding to your waist, the other brushing up your side, fingers grazing the sheer fabric of your shirt.

You moved closer, hips rolling against his, the short skirt brushing against his thighs. His touch grew hotter, palms sliding down to grip your hips, then slowly roaming over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him.

The air between you thickened. Your breathing grew heavier. Every brush of his body sent sparks through your skin. Heeseung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low. “fuck, not being able to kiss you right now is actual torture.”

The words hit you like a shot of pure heat. The alcohol, the weeks of built up tension, the way his hands felt all over your body everything crashed together in one reckless moment.

You didn’t think, you just acted. turning your head as you grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed your lips against his.

The kiss was messy, desperate, and instantly wild. Heeseung groaned into your mouth the second your lips met, one hand flying up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightened possessively on your waist, pulling you even harder against him.

You kissed like you were angry at each other—teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and deep, lips moving with raw hunger.

Heeseung kissed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His mouth was demanding, devouring, tilting your head to kiss you deeper. You moaned softly against him, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, which only made him kiss you harder.

The dance floor disappeared around you. The music faded into background noise. There was only the heat of his body, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and the way his hands roamed greedily over your curves sliding up your back under the sheer shirt, gripping your hips, pressing you so close you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.

The makeout was crazy sloppy, passionate, breathless. You bit his lower lip, and he responded with a low growl, sucking on your tongue before kissing you even harder.

Your bodies moved together to the beat, grinding slowly while your mouths stayed locked in a heated battle.

When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting, lips swollen and shiny. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.

“Shit” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”The kiss finally broke, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening under the flashing party lights.

Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown with want, and the way he looked at you sent another rush of heat straight through your body.

You didn’t think. The alcohol, the weeks of hating him, the way his hands had felt all over you everything made you reckless. You leaned in closer, voice low and breathless against his ear. “Wanna go back to your apartment?”

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a dangerous smirk tugging at his swollen lips. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly melted into pure hunger.

“Fuck yes”

He didn’t waste another second. His hand slid down to grab yours firmly, fingers lacing tight as he started pulling you through the crowded dance floor. People moved out of the way as Heeseung cut a path toward the front door, his grip on you possessive and urgent.

You barely had time to register anything else Yunjin and Soobin were somewhere in the house, but right now, none of that mattered.The cool night air hit your flushed skin the moment you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in your veins.

Heeseung’s car was parked a little down the street. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and the second you reached the passenger side, he opened the door for you with surprising speed before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

The moment the doors closed, the tension exploded again. Heeseung started the engine, but you were already growing impatient. The short drive back to your apartment building felt too long. Every red light, every stop sign made the ache between your legs worse.

You kept stealing glances at him his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his shirt was slightly undone from your earlier tugging. At the third red light, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Fuck this,” you muttered.

Before Heeseung could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled his lap in one swift motion. The mini skirt rode up high on your thighs as you settled on top of him, your hands immediately cupping his face as you crashed your lips back onto his.

Heeseung groaned loudly into the kiss, his hands flying to your waist to steady you. The kiss was even wilder than on the dance floor desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth. You rocked your hips against him, grinding down slowly at first, then harder, feeling him harden beneath you through his jeans.

His hands roamed greedily, one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast over the bralette, the other gripping your ass and pulling you tighter against his growing bulge.

“Shit you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your mouth between kisses, voice rough and wrecked.

You moaned softly, grinding down harder, the friction sending sparks through your entire body. The car windows started to fog up as you moved together, lips never leaving each other for long.

Heeseung’s tongue slid against yours, deep and filthy, while his hips bucked up to meet your movements, the steering wheel pressing into your back.

You were completely lost in him hands in his hair, tugging, lips sucking on his bottom lip, hips rolling in desperate circles when the sharp sound of honking suddenly pierced through the haze.

Once, twice, then a chorus of angry car horns blaring behind you reality crashed back in.

You pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen, breathing ragged. The light had turned green, and the cars lined up behind you were laying on their horns, some drivers shouting out their windows.

Heeseung let out a breathless laugh, his hands still gripping your thighs tightly. His eyes were dark, hair messy from your fingers, lips red and kiss bitten.“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna cause an accident if you keep this up.”

You quickly scrambled back into the passenger seat, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal.

Your skirt was hiked up dangerously high, and you tugged it down with shaky hands while Heeseung adjusted himself in his seat, clearly struggling to focus on the road.

He shot you a heated sideways glance, smirk returning as he pressed the gas pedal.“Almost home,” he said, voice low and promising. “Try not to jump me again until we’re inside or don’t. I'm not complaining.”

The rest of the short drive was torturous. The air in the car was thick with tension, both of you stealing glances, the memory of your grinding still fresh and electric.

When Heeseung finally pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment building, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes blazing.

The second you were both out of the car, he grabbed your hand again and practically dragged you toward the entrance, the promise of what was about to happen hanging heavy between you.

The second the door to Heeseung’s apartment slammed shut behind you, all restraint vanished.He had you pinned against the wood before you could even catch your breath, mouth crashing back onto yours in a filthy, open mouthed kiss.

His hands were everywhere one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast roughly, the other gripping your ass and yanking your hips flush against the hard line of his cock already straining in his jeans.

“Been thinking about this since you walked in wearing that tiny fucking skirt,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. “Look at you acting like such a good girl all semester and now you’re begging to get fucked in my bed.”

You didn’t deny it you couldn’t. The alcohol and weeks of pent up hatred had turned into pure, desperate need. You tugged at his shirt buttons, popping a few open in your haste, and Heeseung chuckled darkly before ripping the rest off himself.

The shirt hit the floor. Yours followed a second later, then your bralette, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of his apartment.

Heeseung’s mouth was on your neck instantly, sucking a mark right below your jaw while his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were hard and aching. “So fucking pretty when you’re needy like this,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh?”

You whimpered when he shoved the mini skirt up around your waist and cupped you over your panties. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles over your clit.

“Shit you are dripping already.” He smirked against your throat. “Such a dirty little secret you’ve been hiding, miss morals.”

You didn’t have time to snap back. Heeseung dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, hooked your panties to the side, and buried his face between your thighs without warning. His tongue dragged a long, nasty stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you.

“Oh my god—” Your head thunked back against the door as he licked and sucked like a man starved, two fingers sliding inside you easily because you were so wet.

He curled them perfectly, pumping fast while his tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit. The sounds were obscene wet, sloppy, loud and he didn’t care. He ate you like he wanted to ruin you.

You came hard on his tongue within minutes, thighs shaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you cried out his name. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were trembling and pushing at his head, then he stood up, lips shiny with your arousal, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself.

“Bedroom now,” he ordered.

He didn’t wait for you to walk. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the short hallway while your legs wrapped around his waist.

Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, panties shoved to the side. You could feel his cock pressing against your soaked core with every step.

The second he kicked his bedroom door open, he dropped you onto the bed. You barely had time to bounce before he was stripping the rest of his clothes off. His jeans and boxers hit the floor and his cock sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.

Your mouth watered at the sight. Heeseung climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. “You want this?” he asked, voice dark, one hand stroking his cock slowly as he looked down at you. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you breathed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. “Fuck me, Heeseung.”That was all it took.

He shoved your legs apart wider, lined himself up, and pushed in with one long, brutal thrust. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “Taking me so well already.”Then he started moving hard fast and filthy.

The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, the same wall that separated your apartments. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Heeseung fucked you like he’d been imagining this exact moment for months.Deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch.

He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. “Taking every inch like a good little slut, who would’ve thought the girl next door gets this fucking nasty?”

The degradation was light, just enough to make your pussy clench harder around him. You moaned louder, hips trying to meet his thrusts.

Heeseung’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you.

“Come on, baby. Come on my cock again, wanna feel you squeezing me.” You shattered for the second time, back arching, walls fluttering around his thick length as your orgasm crashed through you. Heeseung fucked you through it, hips never slowing, chasing his own release.

“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, voice strained. “Where do you want it?” He asked, “Inside,” you gasped, still riding the high. “Come inside me.”

Heeseung cursed loudly, thrusting a few more brutal times before he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he groaned your name against your neck, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

For a moment the only sounds were both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.

Heeseung stayed inside you for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, before he finally pulled out slowly. A trickle of his cum leaked out of you onto the sheets, and he watched it with dark, satisfied eyes then collapsed beside you.

Instead of pulling away, Heeseung immediately reached for you. He wrapped one strong arm around your waist and tugged you against his chest, your back flush to his front in a tight, warm hug. His other hand gently pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning your naked bodies in soft warmth.

You were still sticky with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, but the way he held you possessive yet surprisingly gentle made something soft flutter in your chest despite everything.

Heeseung pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.“Stay,” he murmured, voice already thick with sleep as he tightened his arm around you. “Just stay.”

Exhausted, fucked out, and strangely comforted by his warmth, you let your eyes drift shut. His steady heartbeat against your back and the heavy duvet wrapped around you lulled you quickly into sleep, safe in Heeseung’s arms for the night.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. next morning !

The first thing you registered was the pounding in your head. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through unfamiliar curtains making everything feel hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red 4:28 a.m.

Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your temples the unmistakable aftermath of too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep. You shifted slightly under the heavy duvet, and that’s when you felt it.

A warm, solid body pressed against your back. An arm draped heavily over your waist, holding you close skin against skin. The faint scent of cologne, sweat, and something distinctly masculine filled your senses.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Memories from last night crashed over you like ice water.

The party, the red solo cup dancing. Heeseung’s hands all over your body on the dance floor. The reckless invitation. The car ride where you’d climbed into his lap like you had no shame.

The way he’d pinned you against his door, dropped to his knees in the entryway, fucked you hard on his bed until you were crying out his name. The filthy sounds. The way he’d filled you up. The way he’d pulled you against his chest afterward, hugging you tight under the duvet as you both drifted off.

You had fucked Lee Heeseung

You had fucked your loud, cocky, insufferable neighbor the basketball captain you’d spent months complaining about, the one who called you “Miss Morals” like it was the funniest joke in the world.

Mortification burned hot through your entire body. Your stomach twisted violently. What the hell had you been thinking? The alcohol had stripped away every ounce of common sense, and now you were lying naked in his bed, his cum still faintly sticky between your thighs, his arm wrapped around you like you belonged there.

Heeseung was still sound asleep behind you, breathing deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His face was relaxed in sleep no smirk, no cocky grin but you knew the second he woke up, everything would change.

He would never let you live this down. The teasing would be relentless. “Miss morals” would turn into something far worse. He’d smirk every time he saw you in the hallway, make dirty little comments about how loud you’d been, how desperate you’d sounded begging for him.

The walls between your apartments were thin he’d probably bring it up every time you complained about his noise again. Your life next door would become a living hell.You couldn’t stay here.

Panic clawed up your throat. You had to leave before he woke up. Before this became real. Before he opened his eyes and looked at you with that knowing, satisfied smirk.

Carefully, so carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent under his breath. Your heart hammered as you slowly slid out from under the duvet, the cool air hitting your naked skin and raising goosebumps.

You moved like a ghost around his room, gathering your scattered clothes as quietly as possible. Your sheer black shirt, the black bralette, the dangerously short mini skirt, your panties all crumpled on the floor where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment.

You dressed as fast as you could, fingers trembling as you buttoned the sheer shirt and tugged the mini skirt down your thighs. Your hair was a mess, makeup probably smudged, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out.

Barefoot, shoes in hand, you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. You glanced back once at Heeseung still asleep, one arm now stretched across the empty space where you’d been, dark hair messy against the pillow.

A strange, unwelcome pang twisted in your chest, but you shoved it down hard. This never happened.

You slipped out of his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The living room was dark and silent. You navigated through the unfamiliar space, heart racing, until you reached the front door. The lock clicked softly as you turned it.

The hallway was empty and dimly lit when you stepped outside. The cool air felt like freedom. You didn’t even bother putting your shoes on yet you just hurried the few steps to your own apartment door next door, fumbling with your keys until they finally slid into the lock.

The moment you were inside, you locked the door behind you, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.

Your body still ached in the best and worst ways. Thighs sore, a faint bruise forming on your hip from his grip, the ghost of his touch lingering everywhere. You could still feel him inside you, still taste the heat of his mouth.

You buried your face in your hands, mortified beyond words. What had you done?You had slept with the one person you couldn’t stand and now you had to live right next door to him, pretending it never happened.

Because if Heeseung ever found out you’d run away like this, the teasing would only get worse much, much worse. You spent the rest of that early morning in a haze of denial.

Your phone vibrated then again. You reached for it with a heavy sigh, squinting at the bright screen.

yunjin ( 3 new messages )

yunjin : babe where did u go?? one second u were dancing and then u disappeared 😭

yunjin : sunghoon said he saw u leave with someone?? pls tell me ur okay

yunjin : im worried call me when u wake up!!

soobin ( 4 new messages )

soobin : hey, you okay? you left pretty suddenly last night without telling both of us yunjin’s freaking out a bit

soobin : let me know if you got home safe

soobin : if you need anything or want to talk, i’m here no pressure

soobin : hope you’re resting well ❤️

You stared at the messages, throat tightening. The kindness in Soobin’s texts and Yunjin’s worried energy made fresh tears prick at your eyes. They had no idea what you had done. No idea you had spent the night in Heeseung’s bed, letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you like you’d lost all common sense.

You typed back with trembling fingers, keeping it short and vague

you : got home safe, just drank too much and needed to leave early sorry for worrying you guys i’m okay, just tired talk later ❤️

You sent it and immediately turned your phone on silent, burying your face in your hands the memories wouldn’t stop replaying. Heeseung’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. The way he had groaned your name when he came inside you.

How safe and warm his arms had felt when he pulled you under the duvet afterward. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it all away this never happened.

After sliding down your front door and sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours, you finally dragged yourself to the shower.

You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash away every trace of Heeseung his scent, his touch, the sticky evidence of what you’d done between your thighs. The hot water did nothing to erase the soreness or the vivid flashbacks that kept playing on loop in your head.

By the time the sun came up, you had made a decision this never happened. You would bury it so deep that even you would start to believe it. No one needed to know. Not Yunjin, not Soobin, not even yourself on most days.

You would go back to normal go to classes, focus on your art curator projects, complain about the noise next door like always. And most importantly, you would avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. flashback !

Heeseung stepped out of his apartment with a half empty water bottle in hand, planning to grab the last box from his car before the evening practice. The hallway was quiet until it wasn’t.

A girl came rushing around the corner, arms overloaded with a massive cardboard box that completely blocked her line of sight. She collided straight into his chest with a startled gasp.

The box flew out of her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling books, notebooks, and what looked like art supplies everywhere across the hallway carpet. Heeseung instinctively reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward.

She looked up at him, flushed and clearly annoyed, strands of hair falling across her face from the chaotic move. She was pretty, sharp eyes, determined expression the kind of girl who didn’t seem impressed by campus status.

A smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it.“Easy there, neighbor,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “You always run into people like you’re trying to tackle them, or am I just lucky?”

She blinked, then quickly crouched down to gather her scattered belongings, avoiding his gaze.“Sorry,” she muttered, tone tight and clipped. “Didn’t see you.”

Heeseung crouched down as well, picking up a thick book on museum curation that had slid toward his foot. He turned it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.“Art stuff, huh?” he asked casually. “You moving in next door?”

“Yeah just today,” she replied shortly, snatching the book back from him with a little more force than necessary.

He stood up first and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her struggle to reorganize everything into the box. Most girls would have smiled, maybe even recognized him as the basketball captain.

This one? She looked like she already wanted nothing to do with him.“I’m Heeseung,” he said, flashing his most charming grin. “Lee Heeseung, your new neighbor. Need help carrying that? Looks heavy.” He offered,

“I’m good thanks,” she answered without even looking up, standing quickly and slinging the tote over her shoulder.

Heeseung didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity. There was something refreshing about her indifference that it made him want to push a little harder.

“Just so you know,” he added, voice dropping into a teasing tone, “The walls here are pretty thin, try not to be too loud when you’re studying or doing whatever it is, serious art curator girls do at night.”Her eyes finally snapped up to his, narrowing with clear irritation.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said flatly. “And maybe you can try keeping your parties down some people actually have to study to pass their classes.”

Heeseung let out a low, genuine laugh that echoed down the empty hallway. She had bite and he liked that.

“Welcome to the building, miss morals,” he called after her as she turned toward her door, the nickname slipping out naturally. She didn’t respond. She fumbled with her keys, unlocked her apartment, and slipped inside without another word, the door shutting with a firm click.

Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, still grinning to himself. The girl next door already hated him, and he hadn’t even thrown his first party yet. This was going to be interesting.

The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Afternoon practice was in full swing, but during a water break, Heeseung leaned against the bleachers, towel draped over his shoulders, a cocky grin already plastered on his face.

Jay tossed him a bottle of water. “You look way too happy for someone who just ran suicides.”Heeseung laughed, taking a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t help it ran into the new neighbor again this morning.”

Beomgyu perked up immediately, spinning the ball on his finger. “The girl next door? The one who already hates your guts?”

“miss morals herself,” Heeseung confirmed, his smirk widening. “I was just leaving for practice when she came out, i told her the walls are thin and she should try not to be too loud at night. You should’ve seen her face, she looked like she wanted to throw her coffee at me.”

Jake, who was stretching nearby, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you’re obsessed! that’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned her.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Heeseung shot back, but his grin betrayed him. “It’s just too easy. She gets so worked up over the smallest things. Last week I had a couple of people over, nothing crazy and she banged on my door at midnight like the apartment was on fire, called me an entitled asshole who only passes because ‘daddy pays for everything.’”

The group burst into laughter. Sunghoon shook his head, amused. “She’s got balls, most girls on campus would be throwing themselves at you the second they find out you’re the captain.”

“Exactly,” Heeseung said, tossing the towel aside. “That’s what makes it fun, she doesn’t give a single fuck who I am. No flirty smiles, no asking for tickets to games, nothing. She just glares at me like I personally ruined her life by existing next door it’s hilarious.”

Beomgyu grinned mischievously. “So what’s your plan? Keep annoying her until she moves out?”

“Nah,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the ball once. “I’m just getting started, next time the music’s on, I might turn it up a little louder to see how long it takes before she comes marching over again. Bet she’ll have that cute little angry face on.”

Jake, who had been quietly listening while stretching his hamstrings, suddenly straightened up with a knowing look.“Don’t you think you’re in love with her or something?” he asked casually, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.

The gym went quiet for half a second before the guys exploded with laughter and teasing whistles. Heeseung nearly choked on his water. “What the fuck, Jake?”

Jake shrugged, completely unfazed. “Think about it, she’s literally the only girl who doesn’t give a shit about you no ego stroking, no chasing after the basketball star. She treats you like any other annoying neighbor and instead of leaving her alone, you keep poking at her like a kid with a new toy. That sounds like a crush to me.”

“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, but his ears turned slightly red. He dribbled the ball harder than necessary, trying to play it cool. “I’m not in love with her, she’s just entertaining. It's fun watching her get all riled up, that’s it.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure ‘Entertaining.’ that’s why you bring her up every single practice.”

“Exactly,” Jake added with a grin. “If she suddenly started being nice to you, you’d probably be bored in a week but because she ignores you and calls you out, you can’t stop thinking about her.”

Heeseung pointed the ball at Jake threateningly, though his smirk was fighting to stay hidden. “Keep talking and I’ll make you run extra laps, Sim.”

The team laughed again, but Jake just held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “I’m just saying, man. One day you’re gonna realize you’re not annoying her because it’s funny, you’re doing it because you like the way she fights back.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes and turned away, dribbling the ball toward the court to end the conversation. But as practice resumed and he sank a clean three pointer, Jake’s words lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit.

Maybe there was a tiny bit of truth to it. Or maybe he just really, really enjoyed getting on your nerves.

The laughter from the team slowly died down as practice resumed. Heeseung shook off Jake’s teasing comment, channeling the slight irritation into sharper shots. He sank another clean three pointer, the ball swishing through the net with satisfying precision.

For a few minutes, the court felt like the only place where everything made sense no annoying neighbors, no complicated feelings, just the game. Then the gym doors swung open with a loud bang.

Everyone turned as a tall, sharply dressed man in a tailored coat strode in, his presence immediately sucking the casual energy out of the room. Coach paused mid instruction, nodding respectfully.

Heeseung’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the figure his father. Mr. Lee didn’t smile. He never did when he showed up unannounced like this. His eyes scanned the court with cold calculation, lingering on Heeseung with clear disapproval.

“Take five, boys,” Coach called out, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over, jaw already tight. “Dad what are you doing here?”Mr. Lee stopped a few feet away, arms folded behind his back. His voice was low but carried easily across the quiet gym.

“I came to see if my son is actually putting in the work that’s supposed to get him into the NBA,” he said flatly. “From what I’ve been hearing, it doesn’t look like it.”Heeseung’s friends lingered nearby, pretending to drink water but clearly listening.

“I’ve been at every practice,” Heeseung replied, keeping his tone even. “Coach said my shooting percentage is up this week—”

“Don’t make excuses,” his father cut him off sharply. “Your brother Heedo was never this distracted at your age, he was laser focused top scorer captainfull ride to the best program in the country. And you? You’re out here laughing with your little friends during water breaks, probably thinking about parties and girls instead of the game.”

Heeseung’s grip tightened on the basketball until his knuckles turned white.“I’m not distracted,” he said through gritted teeth. Mr.Lee stepped closer, voice dropping into that familiar, cutting tone that always found its mark.

“You’re good for nothing if you can’t even focus on what matters. All that talent wasted because you’d rather play around and act like some campus king. You think the scouts care about your popularity? they don’t, you will never be enough if you keep this up and you will certainly never be better than your brother.”

The words landed like punches. Heedo — the golden child. The one who had already made it pro overseas. The one their father never stopped comparing him to.Heeseung’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but years of this had taught him it was useless. His father never listened.

Mr. Lee straightened his coat, expression unchanging. “Fix it or don’t bother coming home for the holidays, i didn’t raise a failure.”Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the gym, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

Heeseung stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, chest tight with anger and something heavier he refused to name. The team slowly went back to practice, but the energy had shifted. Jake shot him a concerned look, but Heeseung ignored it, dribbling the ball harder than necessary as he moved back onto the court.

Inside, the familiar bitterness churned.His father’s words echoed louder than any cheering crowd ever could. You will never be enough. You will never be better than your brother. Heeseung sank another shot, but this time it didn’t feel satisfying.

All he could think about was how easy it was to annoy the girl next door because at least when she glared at him and called him an entitled asshole, he felt something other than this hollow, crushing weight.

The heavy gym doors swung shut behind Mr. Lee, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. The team tried to resume practice, but the atmosphere had soured.

Heeseung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where his father had been. The familiar sting of those words good for nothing, never enough, never better than your brother settled heavy in his chest like lead.

Jake jogged over, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man don’t let him get to you, your dad’s always been like that you’re killing it out here.”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu added, spinning the ball on his finger. “Ignore him, you’re the one who’s gonna make it to the NBA, not Heedo.” Jay nodded. “Come on, let’s run some more plays we’ll crush the next game.”Heeseung forced a half smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah sure.”

He went through the motions for the rest of practice dribbling, shooting, defending but he was quiet. No cocky jokes no teasing his teammates no loud laughter. Every time someone tried to pull him into conversation or hype him up after a good play, he gave short, one word replies and kept his head down. The usual spark was gone.

Even Coach noticed, shooting him concerned glances but saying nothing.The moment practice officially ended, Heeseung grabbed his bag and left first, ignoring the calls from his friends asking if he wanted to grab food. He needed air. He needed to get away from the echoes of his father’s voice.

He walked aimlessly for a while, the cool evening air doing little to clear his head. Eventually, his feet carried him toward the small café just off campus the one with decent coffee and quiet corners where he sometimes went to think.He pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly, and scanned the room out of habit and then he saw you.

You were sitting alone at a corner table near the window, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and your laptop. Your hair was tied up messily, a pen between your teeth as you frowned at something on the screen. You looked focused serious and annoyingly cute in that concentrated way of yours.

A small, familiar spark ignited in his chest the one that always appeared whenever he spotted you. Before he could think better of it, Heeseung walked straight over and slid into the seat across from you without asking.You looked up, startled at first, then your expression quickly shifted into pure annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharp but low enough not to disturb the other customers. You closed your laptop slightly, glaring at him. “This is my table, go sit somewhere else.”

Heeseung leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, that signature smirk slowly returning despite the heavy weight still sitting in his stomach. Seeing your irritated face felt lighter somehow. Easier than dealing with everything else.

“Relax, miss morals,” he said, voice teasing. “I’m not here to ruin your precious study time. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi to my favorite neighbor.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Favorite? We barely tolerate each other and I’m trying to work unlike some people who can afford to slack off because ‘daddy can pay for everything.’”

The jab should’ve stung more, especially after his father’s visit, but instead it made Heeseung’s smirk widen. There, it was that fire. That complete lack of care for who he was or what people usually said to him. You didn’t tiptoe around him. You didn’t try to impress him. You just called him out.

It felt strangely nice. Not in a romantic way, just refreshing ( liar liar liar he is totally in love with her ) He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ouch straight for the throat today. What are you working on that’s got you so grumpy? Another museum thing? Planning to curate an exhibit called ‘Why Heeseung Should Shut Up’?”

You gave him a flat look, clearly not amused. “It’s for my capstone project and yes, if it helps keep loud neighbors quiet, I might include a whole section on it.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound genuine even if it was quiet. For the first time since his dad had shown up, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. He realized something in that moment. Your company wasn’t bad.

In fact, sitting here watching you get all annoyed and snappy at him felt better than sitting alone with his father’s words ringing in his head. It was simple predictable in the best way. You gave him a reaction real, unfiltered and for a few minutes, it made everything else fade into the background.

He loved annoying you. Not because he wanted to hurt you but because when you pushed back, it reminded him he was still here. Still capable of feeling something other than pressure and disappointment.

“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he made no move to leave. “I’ll behave for now but only if you tell me what that exhibit is actually about.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, clearly debating whether to kick him out or just ignore him. Heeseung waited, smirk still in place, secretly hoping you’d keep arguing with him a little longer.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. heeseung’s pov !

Heeseung woke up to a heavy, unfamiliar silence.

His eyes opened slowly, the soft gray morning light filtering through the curtains. His body felt sore in places that reminded him immediately of last night a dull ache in his shoulders, the faint stickiness between the sheets, the faint scent of sex still hanging in the air.

He turned his head to the side the bed was empty. The spot where you had been lying was cold, the pillow slightly dented but untouched now. No clothes scattered on the floor no shoes by the door nothing.

Heeseung sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. The memories came back in quiet, unflinching flashes the party you in that short black skirt.The heated dancing that turned into something reckless.The desperate makeout in his car while horns blared behind you.

How he’d carried you inside, how urgently you both had moved against each other against the door, then on this bed.The way you had moaned his name.The way he had finished inside you.

And how, afterward, he had pulled you close under the duvet, your back against his chest, both of you falling asleep in silence.

Now you were gone. He glanced at the clock. 7:23 a.m. You must have woken up in a panic sometime in the early hours and slipped out while he was still asleep. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone heavy, uncomfortable, and strangely final.

Heeseung let out a long, tired breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. This was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake.

You had always made it clear how much you couldn’t stand him. The constant complaints about his noise, the glares in the hallway, the way you called him entitled behind his back.

Last night had been nothing more than too much alcohol and bad judgment on both sides. You waking up and running away only confirmed it.He didn’t blame you. If anything, he felt a quiet wave of regret wash over him. He should have known better.

He should have stopped things before they went that far. Now things between you two were already tense, this was going to be even more awkward.

Heeseung stood up and walked to the bathroom. While the shower heated up, he looked at himself in the mirror. There were faint scratch marks on his shoulders and a small bruise near his collarbone. Physical proof that last night had really happened.

He stepped under the hot water, letting it run over his face and shoulders. It never happened, he told himself. That was the only way forward.He would forget about it. Pretend the entire night was a blur he couldn’t quite remember.

No teasing no comments in the hallway no bringing it up ever again. You clearly wanted to erase it, and honestly so did he. The last thing he needed right now was more complications in his life especially with someone who lived right next door.

After the shower, he got dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He made coffee in the kitchen, moving on autopilot. The apartment felt too quiet now.

Heeseung leaned against the counter, sipping the bitter drink, and stared at the wall that separated his place from yours.From now on, things would go back to normal. You would keep avoiding him like you always did.

He would keep his music at a reasonable volume when he remembered. And neither of you would ever speak about what happened last night. It was better this way, cleaner and simpler.

He finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and set it in the sink. Last night was a mistake and as far as Heeseung was concerned, it was already forgotten.

For the next two weeks, you turned your life into a carefully orchestrated mission of avoidance while your body slowly started betraying you in ways you couldn’t ignore. The mantra remained the same this never happened.

Every morning began the same way. Your alarm went off at 6:15 a.m., pulling you from restless sleep. The moment you sat up, a familiar wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, not violent, but persistent and queasy, making the room feel slightly off balance.

You’d sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, breathing slowly through your nose, waiting for it to pass. Some mornings it did. Others, you’d rush to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink, nothing coming up except bitter bile and a metallic taste that lingered on your tongue.

Once the worst of it subsided, you’d quickly get ready, choosing simple, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Then came the listening part. You’d press your ear to the front door, heart beating a little too fast, straining to hear any sound from Heeseung’s apartment next door.

If you caught even the faintest click of his lock or the low murmur of his voice on a phone call, you’d wait sometimes ten minutes, sometimes twenty pretending to reorganize your bag or check your notes until the hallway was silent again.

Leaving became a tactical exercise. You slipped out as quietly as possible, taking the side staircase instead of the main hallway whenever you spotted his car in the parking lot. The fatigue hit hardest during these moments.

Your legs felt heavier than usual, and by the time you reached campus, you were already drained, needing to sit down in the library for a few minutes just to catch your breath. Coming home was even more stressful.

You started timing your returns obsessively. If practice usually ended around 6 p.m., you’d stay late at the library or in an empty classroom, working on your capstone exhibition proposal until you were sure Heeseung was either out with friends or already inside. One evening, the dizziness caught you off guard.

You had just turned the corner into your hallway when the world tilted slightly. You had to lean against the wall, breathing shallowly, while a strong wave of nausea made your stomach churn.

The faint scent of someone’s dinner cooking nearby sent you rushing the last few steps to your door. The moment you got inside, you barely made it to the toilet before vomiting actual, forceful vomiting that left you trembling on the cold tile floor.

You told yourself it was stress. The constant hyper vigilance. The lack of proper sleep. The emotional weight of pretending that night had never occurred. But the symptoms kept creeping in, growing harder to dismiss.

Smells became your enemy. The aroma of coffee from the café near campus, which you used to love, now made your stomach revolt. You switched to plain crackers and ginger tea, keeping a secret stash in your bag.

Even the scent of your own shampoo sometimes triggered a gag reflex. Food tasted strange too salty, too sweet, or completely off. You lost interest in meals altogether, surviving on small portions that you could keep down.

The fatigue settled deep in your bones. You’d come home from classes, collapse on the couch, and wake up hours later feeling like you hadn’t rested at all.

Your breasts felt tender and slightly swollen, brushing against your shirt making you wince. Mood swings hit at random. One minute you were focused on your work, the next you felt inexplicably teary or irritable. All of this made the avoidance even more draining.

One Thursday night, your timing failed you had stayed late at the library, hoping Heeseung would already be inside. When you finally dragged your tired body back to the building, the hallway lights felt blindingly bright.

Just as you reached your door, fumbling with your keys, you heard the unmistakable click of his lock opening.Panic surged through you. Your hands shook so badly that the keys nearly dropped. You managed to slip inside just as his door opened, pressing your back against the wood, heart hammering wildly.

You held your breath, listening to his footsteps pass by. The moment they faded, the nausea hit like a wave. You barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, knees weak, tears stinging your eyes from the force of it.

Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your forehead resting on your knees, breathing shakily. This was getting worse.You were exhausted from the constant calculation when to leave, when to return, which route to take, how long to wait in the stairwell. The thin wall between your apartments felt like a constant threat.

You’d hear him moving around sometimes. The low sound of his music ( mercifully quieter these days ), the murmur of his voice when he was on the phone, the occasional laugh. Every sound made your stomach twist with anxiety and unwelcome memories.

You became hyper aware of everything. You avoided cooking anything with strong smells. You did laundry at 2 a.m. when you were sure he was asleep. You even changed the time you took showers, worried the sound of running water might coincide with him coming home.

Yunjin and Soobin noticed the changes. “You’ve been canceling plans a lot,” Yunjin said during one quick lunch. “And you look really tired, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile while fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of her food. “Just stressed about the capstone deadline it’s taking everything out of me.”

Soobin watched you quietly, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Inside your apartment, the symptoms continued to build.

Mornings were brutal. You’d wake up with tender breasts and that persistent queasy feeling. Some days the vomiting was so bad you had to keep a small bucket discreetly by your bed.

The fatigue made it hard to focus during lectures. You'd find yourself zoning out, head heavy, fighting the urge to lay your head on the desk. Yet you refused to connect the dots .It’s just stress, you told yourself repeatedly. The avoidance the guilt the lack of sleep.

You pushed through, continuing your careful dance of avoidance. You timed every exit and entry with military precision. You became an expert at predicting Heeseung’s schedule ( she should become a dispatch employee )

You kept your headphones on to drown out any sound from next door. You buried yourself in your art curator work, sketching exhibition layouts late into the night until your eyes burned.Two full weeks passed in this strange limbo.

You were pale, exhausted, and constantly on edge. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The fatigue made simple tasks feel monumental. And the fear of accidentally seeing Heeseung in the hallway kept you trapped in this self imposed isolation.

Deep down, a small, terrified voice in the back of your mind whispered that something was very wrong. But you silenced it the same way you silenced every memory of that night this never happened.

You would keep avoiding him. You would keep pretending everything was normal.Even as your body screamed louder and louder that nothing was normal anymore.

One ordinary afternoon, everything shifted. You were sitting in the small campus café with Yunjin and Soobin, the three of you squeezed around a corner table. Yunjin was dramatically slumped in her chair, one hand pressed to her lower stomach, complaining loudly.

“Ugh, my period is literally killing me today,” she groaned, stirring her iced latte with a pout. “Cramps are so bad, I can barely sit straight why does it always hit the worst during the worst season? I swear my uterus hates me.”

Soobin chuckled softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers from the convenience store?” You tried to smile and nod along, but the words barely registered.

Her period is killing her…..

The sentence echoed in your head like a siren your own period. You mentally counted the days. It should have come a full week ago. Seven days late. Maybe more.

You had been so caught up in avoiding Heeseung, dealing with the constant nausea, fatigue, and vomiting that you hadn’t even noticed the date slipping by. Your heart started beating faster.

You pulled out your phone under the table and quietly opened your cycle tracking app. The screen glowed with the familiar calendar. A bright red notification stared back at you

period : 7 days late

You stared at the words until they blurred. No no, no, no. You tried to push the thought away immediately. It had to be stress. The irregular sleep, the constant anxiety of avoiding Heeseung, the vomiting all of it could easily throw your cycle off. That was normal right?

But then the symptoms started flashing through your mind like warning lights. The persistent nausea every morning. The vomiting that left you weak on the bathroom floor. The crushing fatigue that made it hard to stay awake in lectures.

The dizziness, sensitivity to smells, tender, swollen breasts. Your stomach dropped, could you be pregnant?

The word felt foreign and terrifying in your head. No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t get pregnant from one night. One reckless, stupid night. People had unprotected sex all the time and nothing happened.

You were on the pill…wait, were you? You had been so stressed with midterms that you couldn’t even remember if you had taken it properly that week. The thought made bile rise in your throat again.

Across the table, Yunjin and Soobin were still talking something about upcoming assignments and a group project. Their voices sounded far away, like you were underwater.You couldn’t focus on a single word they were saying. Your mind was spinning, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it.

Yunjin waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to you! you’ve been spacing out the entire time are you okay?”You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Your mouth felt dry.

“I—yeah, sorry just tired,” you mumbled. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head home early today my head’s killing me.”Soobin frowned, concern clear in his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you back?”“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, already standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’ll text you later promise.”

You left the café before they could protest, walking fast, then almost jogging once you were out of sight. The nausea was back, stronger now, mixing with pure terror. Your hands were shaking as you headed straight for the small convenience store two blocks away.

Inside the store, you felt like every camera was watching you. You moved quickly through the aisles, heart hammering, until you found the family planning section. There were several pregnancy test kits.

You grabbed the most reliable looking one with trembling fingers, not even reading the brand properly. The cashier gave you a neutral look as you paid, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.

Bag clutched tightly to your chest, you practically ran the entire way back to your apartment building. You took the side stairs again, praying Heeseung wasn’t around. The moment you were inside your own apartment, you locked the door twice and leaned against it, breathing hard.

You pulled the kit out of the bag with shaking hands. The box felt heavy dangerous. You read the instructions carefully, twice. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = pregnant simple but terrifying.

You went to the bathroom, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. You followed every step exactly, hands trembling so badly you almost dropped the test. When you were done, you placed the stick on the counter and set a timer on your phone three minutes.

You paced the small bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second felt like an hour. The nausea was back, but this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was pure fear.

What if it was positive?

What if you were actually pregnant with Heeseung’s baby?

The thought made your knees weak. You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold tile floor, staring at the test on the counter like it was a bomb about to go off.The timer was still counting down.

Two minutes left. You hugged your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the small plastic stick that now, held your entire future in two little lines. You were so scared.

The timer on your phone hit zero with a soft chime that felt deafening in the small bathroom. You stayed frozen on the cold tile floor for several long seconds, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the pregnancy test lying face up on the counter like it was a live grenade.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stepped closer. One line was already dark and clear the control line. The second line was faint at first, but unmistakable. A pale pink line slowly darkening right beside the first one.

two lines = positive

You blinked hard, once, twice, as if the result would magically change if you stared long enough.“No…” you whispered, voice cracking. “No, that can’t be right.”Denial crashed over you like a wave. You snatched the test off the counter and held it closer to the light, turning it at different angles. Maybe it was a faulty test.

Maybe the line was an evaporation line. Maybe you had read the instructions wrong. You grabbed the box again and reread the instructions three more times, your hands trembling so badly the paper shook.

But no matter how many times you checked, the two lines stared back at you, clear and undeniable. It was positive. You were pregnant. The reality slammed into you all at once.

Your knees buckled. You sank back down to the bathroom floor, the test still clutched tightly in your hand. A sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as the full weight of what this meant crashed over you.

You were pregnant with Heeseung’s baby. The boy you couldn’t stand. The neighbor you had spent months avoiding. The one person you had sworn to pretend never touched you.

A broken sound escaped you half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief. Your free hand moved instinctively to your stomach, pressing lightly against the still flat surface. There was a life growing inside you right now. A tiny, real consequence of one reckless, drunken night.

The crying came harder. You curled in on yourself, forehead resting on your knees as sobs wracked your body. All the symptoms you had tried to blame on stress the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the dizziness suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.

You were going to have a baby. And the father was the last person on earth you wanted to be tied to. After several long minutes, the tears slowed, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, staring blankly at the two pink lines.

You made a decision right there on the bathroom floor. You were not telling Heeseung anything, not a single word.He didn’t need to know. He would never know. Telling him would only make everything worse the teasing, the drama, the forced proximity, the endless complications with someone you already couldn’t stand.

You could barely handle living next door to him as it was. Bringing a child into that mess was unthinkable. This was your problem. Your body, your choice. You would handle it quietly. You would get rid of it.The thought made fresh tears sting your eyes, but you forced them back. There was no other option.

You were still in school, chasing your dream of becoming an art curator. Your life was barely stable right now. A baby, especially one with Heeseung as the father would ruin everything.

You stayed on the floor for a long time, clutching the test, letting the weight of the decision settle over you.

Eventually, you stood up on unsteady legs. You wrapped the test in toilet paper and hid it deep in the trash can under some tissues. You washed your face with cold water until the redness in your eyes faded a little.

You looked at your reflection pale, exhausted, terrified and whispered to yourself “This never happened.” You would schedule an. appointment. You would end this quietly.You would move on with your life and never speak of that night again.

But as you turned off the bathroom light and stepped into your silent apartment, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever. You were pregnant. And for the first time since that night, the wall between you and Heeseung felt like it was closing in.

The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone. You weren’t going to tell Heeseung. You were going to end this quietly and move on with your life. The very next morning, you tried to make the appointment.

You sat on your bed with your laptop open, hands shaking as you searched for clinics near campus that offered termination services. Your stomach was already churning with nausea again, but you forced yourself to focus.

You found a few options a women’s health clinic downtown and a Planned Parenthood branch about twenty minutes away. You clicked on the booking page for the first one. The form asked for your name, date of birth, contact number, and reason for visit.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. You couldn’t do it. Every time you tried to type your real information, panic surged through you. What if someone recognized your name? What if the clinic called or sent confirmation texts while you were near Heeseung?

What if the appointment somehow got back to campus gossip? The thought of walking into a clinic alone, explaining your situation to a stranger, and going through with it made your throat close up.

You closed the laptop without saving anything. You told yourself you’d try again tomorrow when you felt calmer. But tomorrow came and went. Then the next day. And the next. Meanwhile, the symptoms grew worse.

The nausea was no longer just morning sickness it hit you at random times throughout the day. The smell of food in the cafeteria made you gag. Even walking past the coffee shop near campus triggered violent waves that left you rushing to the nearest bathroom.

You started carrying saltine crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale everywhere, but they barely helped anymore.

Vomiting became more frequent. One afternoon during a lecture, you had to excuse yourself midway through and barely made it to the restroom before throwing up.

You returned to class pale and sweaty, mumbling something about food poisoning when Yunjin looked at you worriedly.

Fatigue wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You fell asleep in the library twice that week, waking up with your cheek stuck to your notebook. Simple tasks like climbing the stairs to your apartment left you breathless and dizzy.

Your breasts were constantly tender, and your mood swung wildly one moment you were numb, the next you felt like crying over nothing. Yunjin and Soobin started noticing. During lunch on Thursday, Yunjin set her chopsticks down and stared at you.

“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” she said, voice firm but concerned. “You’ve been looking like a ghost for days, you barely eat anything, you keep disappearing to the bathroom, and you look exhausted even when you say you slept are you sick? Is it stress? Talk to us.”

Soobin nodded, his gentle eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been canceling plans and spacing out a lot. If something’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone. We’re here.”You forced a weak smile, pushing your untouched food around your plate. The smell of it was making you nauseous again.

“I’m okay, really,” you lied, voice quieter than usual. “Just… really behind on my capstone. The deadline is stressing me out more than I thought. I’ll be fine once I catch up.”

They didn’t look convinced, but they let it drop for the moment. Still, you could feel their eyes on you for the rest of the meal. Even Heeseung started noticing something was off.

You had managed to avoid direct contact with him for weeks, but it was impossible to hide everything when you lived next door.

One evening, you were coming home later than usual after another failed attempt to book the appointment online. You felt dizzy and nauseous, moving slowly up the hallway with your keys already in hand. As you reached your door, Heeseung’s door opened.

He stepped out, wearing a simple black hoodie, hair slightly messy like he’d just come back from practice. His eyes landed on you immediately.

You froze for half a second, then quickly turned your face away and fumbled with your lock, trying to get inside before he could say anything. But Heeseung didn’t tease you this time.

Instead, he paused in his doorway, brow slightly furrowed as he watched you. You looked pale. Thinner. There were dark circles under your eyes, and the way you moved seemed off fragile.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the usual cocky remark didn’t come.“You good?” he asked quietly, voice lacking its normal edge.

You didn’t answer. You finally got the door open and slipped inside without looking at him, shutting it quickly behind you

Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, staring at your closed door with a strange, unsettled feeling in his chest. Something wasn’t right with you. He could see it.But after everything after that night you both had silently agreed to forget he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.

Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing hard. Fresh tears stung your eyes as another wave of nausea hit you. You slid down to the floor, hugging your knees. You still hadn’t been able to book the appointment.

The symptoms were getting worse every day, your friends were worried and now even Heeseung had noticed something was wrong. You pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering to yourself again and again

“This never happened… this never happened…” But the lie was starting to feel impossible to keep. Heeseung had noticed. For the past two weeks, it had become painfully obvious that you were avoiding him like the plague.

At first, he thought it was the usual the cold shoulder after that night you both had silently agreed to forget. But it quickly went beyond that. You timed your movements with military precision.

He would hear your door open and close at odd hours, always when he was either inside or already gone. You took the side stairs. You left earlier than usual in the mornings and came back much later at night.

Even at university, catching a glimpse of you had become nearly impossible. You seemed to disappear into the library or empty classrooms the moment practice ended.It was clear you were doing everything in your power to never cross paths with him.

Heeseung told himself it didn’t bother him. He had decided to forget that night too. No teasing. No bringing it up. Just normal or as normal as things could be when you lived right next door

But something was wrong. You looked terrible lately. He first noticed it in passing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders seemed to slump with exhaustion. Then it got worse you moved slower.

Your face was paler than usual. You barely left your apartment except for classes, and even then you looked like you were running on empty.

One evening, after a long basketball practice, Heeseung was walking back to the apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sun had already set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the path. That’s when he saw you.

You were a few meters ahead, heading toward the entrance. Your steps were unsteady, one hand pressed lightly against the wall for support.

Even from behind, he could tell something was very wrong. Your posture was slumped, your breathing looked shallow, and you looked like you were barely holding yourself upright.

Heeseung’s stomach tightened. He quickened his pace without thinking and caught up to you just as you reached the building door.“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, no trace of his usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?”

You turned your head slightly, eyes glassy and tired. The moment you recognized him, your expression hardened.“I don’t have time for your teasing right now, Heeseung,” you muttered weakly, trying to push past him toward the elevator.

Heeseung felt a flash of annoyance, not because you were dismissing him, but because he was genuinely worried and you clearly didn’t believe it.“I’m not teasing,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the elevator. Heeseung followed, stepping in right after you. The doors closed, trapping the two of you in the small space. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. He could hear your breathing too fast, too shallow.

When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out first. But the moment your feet hit the hallway, your legs buckled. You swayed dangerously, one hand reaching out blindly for the wall as the world spun around you. Heeseung moved fast.

He dropped his gym bag and caught you before you could hit the floor, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other supporting your back. Your body went limp against him for a few terrifying seconds.

“Shit—” he muttered, heart pounding. “Hey, stay with me.” You were half conscious, mumbling something incoherent about being fine. Heeseung didn’t waste time arguing. He adjusted his grip and lifted you carefully into his arms in bridal style, your head lolling against his shoulder.

Your apartment was right next to his. He fumbled for a moment with your keys ( which had fallen from your hand ) until he managed to unlock the door. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and headed straight for your bedroom.

The room was neat but clearly lived in textbooks stacked on the desk, a half finished sketch on the table, a small trash can near the bed. Heeseung gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your face was pale, forehead slightly damp with sweat.

He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. You looked so small and fragile like this. Nothing like the fiery girl who used to bang on his door and call him an entitled asshole.

Heeseung grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it on your nightstand. Then he pulled up the chair from your desk and sat down beside the bed, watching you carefully.

Your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your face relaxed as you slipped into a deeper sleep. Heeseung stayed there, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what was going on with you.

He didn’t know why you looked so sick. He didn’t even know if you’d want him here when you woke up. But right now, leaving you alone didn’t feel like an option. So he stayed quietly waiting.

Until your breathing became steady and deep, and he was sure you were fully asleep. Heeseung stayed. He told himself he’d only wait until you fell into a proper sleep, but the longer he sat there watching your pale face and shallow breathing, the harder it became to leave.

You looked exhausted, truly exhausted in a way that went beyond simple tiredness. Dark circles under your eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin lacking its usual color. Something was clearly wrong, and the protective instinct he didn’t know he had kept him rooted to the chair.

After almost an hour, when your breathing had deepened into steady, even inhales, Heeseung stood up quietly. He couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. He moved silently through your apartment, careful not to make noise.

Your kitchen was small and neat, but the fridge was nearly empty a few bottles of water, some crackers, and not much else. Heeseung frowned. No wonder you looked so drained. He opened the cupboards and found rice, a couple of eggs, and some ginger.

Simple gentle on the stomach. He decided to make congee something light that his mom used to make for him when he was sick.

He worked quietly, chopping what little he could find, boiling water, and stirring the pot on low heat. The smell of ginger and warm rice slowly filled the small apartment. He hoped it would help when you woke up. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.

He kept glancing toward the bedroom every few minutes, making sure you were still resting. Almost two hours later, you started stirring.

Heeseung was just turning off the stove when he heard movement from the bedroom. He poured some congee into a bowl, added a bit of water to make it lighter, and was about to bring it to you when

You bolted upright in bed, eyes wide with sudden panic. The smell of the food hit you like a wave. Your face went even paler, hand flying to your mouth as nausea surged violently. Heeseung’s eyes widened. “Hey—”

You didn’t wait. You scrambled off the bed on shaky legs and ran straight to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

Heeseung followed right behind you, worry spiking through his chest. He reached the bathroom door just as you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up violently.

“Shit—” He moved quickly, kneeling beside you without hesitation. One hand gently gathered your hair, holding it back from your face. His other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay I’ve got you, just breathe.”

You retched again, body trembling with the force of it. Heeseung stayed right there, murmuring quiet reassurances, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.

When the worst of it seemed to pass, he reached over and flushed the toilet, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dampened it with cool water.“Here,” he said softly, handing you the towel. “Wipe your face.”

You took it with trembling hands, still breathing hard. Heeseung stood up briefly to get a glass of water from the sink and brought it back to you.“Small sips,” he instructed, crouching down again. “Don’t drink too fast.”

While you rinsed your mouth and took careful sips, Heeseung’s eyes wandered around the small bathroom, looking for anything that might help. His gaze landed on the trash can beside the sink. Something white and plastic was poking out from under some tissues.

Curious, he reached down and pulled it out, it was a pregnancy test. Two distinct red lines stared back at him clear, unmistakable, and positive. Heeseung froze.

His brain short circuited for a second. The test felt heavy in his hand as the reality sank in. Positive you were pregnant. He slowly turned his head toward you. You were already looking at him.

Your eyes were wide with pure terror, face drained of all color, lips parted in shock. You looked caught completely and utterly caught like the worst secret in the world had just been ripped open. The glass of water trembled in your hand.

Heeseung’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His gaze flicked between the test in his hand and your terrified expression.

The pieces clicked together horribly fast the avoidance, the exhaustion, the vomiting, the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together for the past two weeks.

This wasn’t just stress this was because of that night because of him. Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice coming out quieter than he expected.

“…Is this yours?” The bathroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. You were still staring at him, tears already gathering in your eyes again, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He only knew that everything had just changed. Heeseung stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test for what felt like an eternity.

The bathroom was deathly quiet except for your shaky breathing. When he finally looked up at you, your face was pale, eyes wide with pure terror, tears already spilling down your cheeks. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.

“…Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low and rough. You didn’t speak at first. Your lips trembled as fresh tears rolled down your face. Then you gave a small, barely noticeable nod.

Heeseung felt something twist sharply in his chest. He looked back down at the test, then at you again. His next question came out quieter, almost hesitant.

“Is the baby mine?” The moment the words left his mouth, your face crumpled completely. You broke into heavy, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as you tried to cover your mouth with one hand.

“I’m sorry…” you choked out between cries. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen, i never meant for any of this, it was just one stupid night and I— I’m planning on getting rid of it. I won’t bother you with any of this, i won’t get in your way. You don’t have to worry about anything, i’ll handle it quietly.”

Heeseung’s expression shifted the instant you said those words. Hurt flashed across his face raw, unguarded hurt. His brows drew together, jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying.

The idea that you were planning to terminate the pregnancy without even telling him felt like a punch to the gut. His hand holding the test lowered slowly to his side. You kept crying, words tumbling out faster now, desperate and apologetic.

“I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this either, i’ll take care of everything. You can just forget about it…i promise I won’t drag you into anything.”

Heeseung stayed silent for a long moment, staring at you as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking small and devastated.

The hurt in his chest mixed with something heavier confusion, disbelief, and a strange ache he couldn’t quite name. Finally, his voice came out low and strained.

“and you didn’t bother telling me?”

PERMANENT TAGLIST : @wonscrchy @miniij @ni-kichromeheartzz @evansfangz @jakeycakeys @addictedtohobi @babydumplingpandabamboo @simjakeyjake @angelhyuka @nodoubtily @chanchamm @ni-k1ttie @yangw0ni3 @mystgene @enheenie

FIC TAGLIST : @fluveryss @st4g1rlies @lillotus17 @mel-reads @cherrilimae @reysblr @luvksnn @papichulomacy @imsojuliaaaa @deobitifull @ckline35 @ellushic @axfyl @gthae @enhypens-hoe @nithxhoon @en-stellar @sievenderz @yunkivamp @isa942572 @starfallia @jellykitti @darjeelinglemontea @graythecoffeebean @eirlyscloud @heehee67 @lawjakesim @vananas @fancypeacepersona @hoonlvrrz @thinkinboutbin @erehkinnie30 @encorp @satorus-slut @shreyanshii11 @cylinax @zoe1love @vissnipherwifeey @lanadellarry13 @simjaeyunslut @simjaeyunlvrclub @soraokkotsu

comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏼

[02shuuu]

blood saga set list is insane omg

[02shuuu]

woohoo it’s my birthday 😋

[jybrry]

 🏁 too close, pjs (MASTERLIST!)

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader.

synopsis: red bull junior team prodigy and korea’s national treasure, park jongseong, makes his f1 debut with racing bulls, promising himself he’ll keep his rookie season distraction-free. of course the person who keeps catching his eye every race week wears a badge that reads williams media. not that he’ll flirt with the competition or anything. he’s just… too close to it. 

contains: f1-driver!jay, downbad!jay, social media!au, fluff, humor, workplace proximity, secret dating ft. enha's hyung line + ive's gaeul.

warnings: swearing, inappropriate jokes, suggestive content, poor attempts at humor, i’m not an f1 expert, usage of faceclaims for reader, ignore dates and timestamps pls.

status: completed ★ (10/10/25 - 17/04/26).

01. pretty driver from vcarb.

02. going viral (goes WRONG!)

03. THE drought

04. strictly professional

05. praise kink (wc: 1.1k)

06. ok pinkpantheress

07. why he kinda...

08. uh-uh in it

09. somewhere in the english countryside (wc: 2.8k)

10. how many times????

11. jay saved my dying dog😢

12. champagne-soaked (wc: 1.4k)

13. jaystappen

14. sparkles

15. mama and papa???

16. the lion is struggling

17. when the neighbors confession sounds good asf (wc: 3.9k)

18. only if you say yes

19. fell FIRST and HARDER

20. leo leclerc's reheated nachos

taglist: @user123456767 @xerophyides @cupidmiyu @slvdsjjk @lovenha7 @stwrlightt @baedreamverse @weepingsweep @areikii @wonnieswife @babyybunny06 @kikicuh @kristynaaah @nonchalantjaeyun @nexxus13 @why4anne @hyucjj @sunsunmpreg @jaehyunicecream @fialtorelle @rmmsthings @hoonings @right-person-wrong-time @zoe1love @ori2ari @urfavmaknae @ilovhoonie @rikinx @seyjy @meimeiyh @minjsui @miffikeuu @jimmiwuwaiting @blackhairandbangs @flrtwoo @brbgottablast @ployap @flowrsflowings @heartheejake @iiunique @h4avenandback @honeyfewr @sunarn82 @kristynaaah @eyeslikedracula @kireistrawberryjayla @rikizm @isa942572 @h-rtsnana @primroselover

💌 🏎️ tysm for reading !!!

[yeongwonie]

stars on your ceiling — yang jungwon

; you’ve heard countless stories of how your parents met, and of the vivid dreams that brought the two of them together. still, once you begin to have soulmate dreams of your own, it’s hard to enjoy getting to know your supposed other half when your best friend occupies your thoughts instead (and when your soulmate doesn’t remember these shared dreams ever happening).

PAIRING yang jungwon x gn!reader

GENRE soulmate au but not really, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff + angst

WARNINGS semi-graphic desc. of injury, knives, derealization?, mc has a father and a mother i’m sorry for heteronormativity ㅠㅠ, mentions of food, swimming in the ocean, calculus…, rly dramatic for ltrly no reason

WORD COUNT 21.7k

LISTEN Can’t We Just Leave the Monster Alive? by TOMORROW X TOGETHER. MIST and INCEPTION by ATEEZ. Butterfly by BTS. Lovers’ Oath by Yu-Peng Chen, HOYO-MIX (i imagine this playing in the background in the mountains).

note i think this fic holds a special place in my heart as the first really long, plot-focused thing i’ve written. it was a very long process, especially since writing coincided with my final exams, but thank u for being patient with me and i hope it was worth the wait! + a huge huge huge thank you to @enhyphoria, @moonsluvr, @yyunari, & @jungwonize for being my beta(reader)s and helping me to edit this fic!! i love and appreciate u all so much <3 

+ as always, please reblog if you enjoy, since it helps a lot with tumblr’s algorithm! any and all feedback is also very appreciated!

I. WAKING FROM A FAMILIAR DREAM

IT BEGINS IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

Your eyes flutter open, then immediately narrow as they’re met with a flash of almost painfully bright light. A hand moves quickly to shade your face, and through the gaps in your fingers, you see hints of the bright, golden sky.

You feel the cool, slightly damp touch of morning dew against the back of your neck and the prickle of wild grass caressing your arms, so lucid that you almost believe you’d been kidnapped and brought to the middle of some natural reserve as you slept. 

Keep reading

[as-kat9-14]

[vmpiricou]

﹕﹒★﹒  BOTH, FINALLY.

𝙥airing: yang jungwon x fem! reader x park sunghoon.

𝙘ontent: established relationship, explicit mature content, porn without plot, mean doms! sungwon, double penetration, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, blow job, voyeurism, multiple rounds, begging, pussy eating+fingering, squirting, belly bulge, degrading+praising.

𝙬ord count: 4.4k.

part one | part two

Exactly ten minutes later, your ears faintly registered the sound of the door opening and closing, followed by someone dropping the keys into the small cute cat keys holder bowl your friends gifted you as a housewarming gift.

You weren't asleep even though it was close to one in the morning. How can you sleep when you knew what was coming? How can you sleep after reading what Sunghoon had texted Jungwon.

Anticipation coursed through your veins. Your heart rapidly beats against your ribcage. You couldn't help but feel nervous. During your relationship with Sunghoon and Jungwon, this will be your first time doing this with the both of them.

As much as they want to ruin you into oblivion, the two men didn't want to hurt you. God forbid how they will react if they were to find out you got hurt because of them.

You were laying on the bed, dressed in a simple, clean and fresh oversized shirt that belonged to Jungwon. You were able to smell his colgne lingering on it whenever you pulled the collar up to your nose. Sunghoon had stepped out of the bedroom when his phone rang off, much to his evident annoyance.

You heard two muffled voices—to which you assumed they were talking about something before it was silent again. And then, the door opened, showing Jungwon standing on the other end. He was dressed casually—a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, a pair of loose black sweatpants and a pair of thick, black-framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.

You pushed yourself up, the sheets falling due to the movement, showing off your neck covered in hickeys left behind by him and Sunghoon. His eyes darkened a shade, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he entered, not bothering to close the door. Jungwon stopped at the side of the bed, reaching out to clasp his fingers around your chin. You let him tilt your head to the left, allowing him to look at the masterpiece left behind.

He used his other hand to trace the hickeys, resulting in a body-length shudder as you trembled in his grasp. Jungwon noticed. Of course he does.

"Beautiful," he breathed out, sounding in awe. His pupils were already blown out, covered in nothing but lust.

"You look pretty like this. Covered in our marks. You belong to us, don't you?" He continued, angling your face to the front, forcing you to look at him.

You whimpered as you nodded your head, clenching down on nothing but thin air. You were seated on the bed with your legs folded by your side. Without the sheets, Jungwon's able to see the bitemarks scattered across your inner thighs, drawing a low groan from him.

"Looks like hyung had his fun with you. Surely you didn't forget about me, right?" He asked, voice dropping to a deceptively soft coo, like he's all sweet and soft when he's the opposite of that.

You swallowed. "No, I didn't."

At Jungwon's expectant eyebrow raised, you hurried to correct yourself. "No, I didn't, sir."

Your boyfriend made a pleased sound at your obedience. He shifted closer, slightly resting his thighs against the side of the mattress. He leaned forward a little, his shadow hovering over you as he tilted your head back while still maintaining eye contact. The air was tense and thick, practically crackling with tension threatening to snap. It's so thick that one could sliced it apart with a plastic knife.

"What are you waiting for? Get to work, baby. Don't keep me waiting."

You obeyed, scooting forward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You raised your hands, untying the knot of his sweatpants as the two long, white strings fell limp, resting against his sweatpants. The tent was visible, a sign of his hardened cock waiting for you. You hooked your fingers into the hem of his sweatpants only, not including his boxers and slowly tugged it down.

Jungwon's hand moved up, tangling his fingers in your hair. You could feel the smooth, cool metal surfaces of his rings against your scalp. You spared him one final, fleeting glance—noting his dark eyes clouded with lust as you leaned forward to plant the lightest kiss on the clothed tip. Your boyfriend's thighs instinctively twitched, blunt nails digging into your scalp at your action.

You made no move to pull his boxers down, leaving it on as you mouthed along the outline of his cock via the fabric of his underwear, purposely collecting more saliva in your mouth so it will drip down, leaving a path behind.

You couldn't help but snicker at the reactions you're getting out of Jungwon—how he clenched his jaw, how he was clearly holding back his restraint to pounce on you and how he wanted to shove you back onto the bed to fuck your mouth with his cock, making you swallow his cum.

"Stop teasing," he grunted, already sounding wrecked even though you haven't done much yet. Just thinking about the effect you have on him made you whined.

With one simple, quick motion, his boxers fell to the floor as it pooled around his legs, joining his sweatpants in meeting the same fate. His cock instantly sprung free from its restraints, the tip nearly slapping you right in the face. Your mouth watered. You knew he's packing and in no way was he considered small.

It's long and thick, with veins protruding from all sides. The tip was already in an angry shade of red with precum oozing from it. You grabbed the base with your left hand, your fingers barely touching and you whimpered, wanting to feel him deep inside you. Jungwon gave a light tug on your hair, canting his hips towards you and you quickly opened your mouth, tongue flattening as you let him glide his cock against your lips, like he's applying lipstick.

You let him pushed his cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around just the tip as you sucked on it, like a baby sucking on a pacifier. Jungwon's breath audibly hitched in his throat, nails now scratching against your scalp, struggling to control himself. His breathing grew uneven when you took more of him, hollowing your cheeks for better suction.

"Fuck," he sworn as you ran your tongue along the veins on the side. You used the same hand that was holding the base to touch the areas you couldn't reach, occasionally digging your nails into his cock, savoring the melodic sounds he let out.

"So good for me. My perfect cockslut, aren't you?" He panted, starting to rock his hips into your mouth and you let him set the pace, going still while he used you to his heart's content.

You made a choked, muffled sound, the vibrations sending down his body, drawing a low groan from him. You weren't even aware your hips moved on its own as you grind down, rubbing your bare, swollen and sensitive pussy against the sheets. Jungwon noticed and when he did, he barked out a low, dark laugh.

He yanked on your hair, forcing your head up with his cock still in your mouth, his hips never stopped moving. He sneered at your watery, wide and pleading eyes. Although, you weren't sure what you were begging for.

"Look at you, rutting against the sheets like the desperate whore you are. Was hyung not enough for you, hm? You still want more?" He commented.

You moaned, the vibrations eliciting a curse from him. Jungwon continued fucking into your mouth, his pants and moans gradually getting louder and louder. Fat, warm and salty tear droplets rolled down your cheeks.

He didn't warn you when he cum, simply shooting hot, thick and bitter cum down your throat. You swallowed all of it, like the good, loving girlfriend you are, watching with his head thrown back, revealing his neck and Adam's Apple.

"I can't believe you've started without me."

Both of you turned to the direction of the opened bedroom door, to see Sunghoon leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. It's clear he had been watching the entire time, judging from the evident bludge on the front of his sweatpants. Jungwon smirked at his words, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a soft "pop" sound. He didn't tuck himself back in, moving to sit on your left side.

You squeaked when Jungwon pulled you towards him, causing you to awkwardly land on his lap with your back pressed against his firm, solid chest. He hooked his strong, muscular legs over yours, forcing you to spread your legs. He pushed the shirt up until your stomach, showing off your glistening, needy pussy and the wet stains on the sheets.

Sunghoon whistled, the sound low and appreciative with his eyes locked on the sinful sight before him. He pushed himself off the door frame, entering the room as he sat on your right side, his clothed knee brushing against yours. Your mind blanked out when you felt Jungwon's hand snaking down to your core resting between your legs, resulting in you squirming in his arms.

"Shh, baby. Don't hide from us, wanna hear you," Sunghoon cooed, cupping your chin, forcing you to face him.

You whimpered, nuzzling into his palm like a kitten wanting affection from its owner. Your legs twitched when Jungwon pushed two fingers into your gaping, stretched out pussy. There was no resistance, the glide was smooth and he's able to push his fingers in until he's knuckles-deep in you.

Sunghoon's eyes darted down, fingers still on your chin as he watched Jungwon stretching you open, moving his fingers in a scissors-like motion.

"Hyung, she's still tight even after you've stretched her open," he remarked, resting his chin on your left shoulder as he looked down at the mess between your legs.

Sunghoon hummed, absentmindedly drawing lines on your right cheek with his thumb while watching. "Guess that means you need to prep her more. Think she can take it?"

It's unfair, with how they were talking like it's a regular conversation, acting like you weren't here, like you were invisible. But yet, it feels good, in a sick and condescending way. You couldn't speak, eyes rolling up to the back of your head, back arching off Jungwon's chest when he curled his fingers, brushing against that spongy spot.

The bedroom was filled with the loud, lewd squelching sounds of your boyfriend fingering your pussy, spreading the mixture of you and Sunghoon's cum around your pussy. Jungwon hummed, actually thinking about it before giving his answer, even when he's knuckles-deep in you.

"Yeah, she can. I know she can, right baby?" Jungwon asked, directing the question to you and you only let out a pathetic mewl that earned amused chuckles from your two boyfriends.

"Poor princess. Already gone when we haven't even fuck her yet."

Sunghoon drawled, withdrawing his hand as he pulled his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It slapped against his shirt, leaving stains of precum behind but he didn't care about the mess. You watched with half-lidded eyes as he began stroking himself to hardness, using his precum to spread it over his cock.

He smirked when he saw you staring shamelessly, leaning back with one hand placed on the bed behind him to support his weight.

"Yes baby, you want something?" He teased, slowly moving his large, pale hand up and down the length of his cock.

You wordlessly nodded, unable to find it in you to use your voice but Sunghoon wasn't pleased. He clicked his tongue, in lieu of a warning and you hurried to save yourself from the incoming doom you would face if you didn't obey him.

"P-Please," you begged, voice cracking.

"Please what? Use your words, baby," Sunghoon coaxed you.

"Mean. So mean," you sobbed, frustrated and aroused tears now freely running down your cheeks.

Jungwon chuckled behind you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he kissed every area of skin presented to him, not paying the two of you any mind while he continued to finger you, slowly pushing you to your climax. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed with what you said and he laughed, the sound low and dark.

"Mean? Oh poor baby, you say that but you still let me let me do what I want with you," he paused, reaching out with his hand—the very same hand used to touch his own cock, to brush his thumb along your bottom lip, "if I'm really mean, we won't even be here."

You sniffled, attempting to take his thumb into your mouth but he dropped his hand, going back to stroking himself. It's nasty—with how you're about to reach your climax with Jungwon now whispering in a hushed tone, his words sweet and soft—a huge contrast to how he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace.

A series of angelic sounds endlessly spill from your lips, ranging from broken, breathless moans to whimpers to a few chanting of their names—be it Jungwon or Sunghoon's names. Your lips dropped open to a silent "O" shape. You felt the all-too familiar tightening sensation in your stomach, your legs quivering like fallen leaves as you rapidly reached your climax.

"Ngh, g-gonna c-cum-hah," you moaned, throwing your head back to rest it on Jungwon's right shoulder, your hands weakly grasping at his hands as he quickened his pace.

"Cum for us, baby, that's it," Jungwon cooed.

Your mind shattered. Your walls violently convulsed around his fingers, clamping and unclamping as he fingered you through your mind-breaking orgasm.

Hot, transparent liquid gushed out of your pussy, spraying everywhere without a care in the world. You ended up in an over-sensitive, trembling and flushed mess after your climax, body going pliant as you slumped against Jungwon's chest, heaving to catch your breath.

"Shit, she squirted. That's hot," Sunghoon groaned, eyelids fluttering shut when he's reaching his climax. You were so out of it that you didn't notice the glance shared between the two of them.

The next thing you knew, you were being pushed forward with Sunghoon grabbing onto your hair. He dragged you forward until your face was hovering over his cock. You weren't given a chance to regain your bearings, having to squeeze your eyes shut when he cum. Short, thick and white stripes of cum splattered on your face. Some landed on your cheeks. Some landed on your lips and some even managed to land on your hair.

It's a scene shot straight out of a pornographic movie. Your tongue darted out, licking up whatever cum you can reach and swallowed it, all the while locking eyes with Sunghoon. Your boyfriend muttered something under his breath, visibly affected by your action. He shot out his hands, grabbed you by your arms and hauled you towards him.

He crashed your lips together, easily sliding his tongue into your mouth. You heard the sheets rustling behind you followed by a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, drawing circles on your hips.

"If only you can see yourself, so good for us. Think you deserve a reward from us," Jungwon murmured, smirking into your skin at the way you shivered at his words.

◟‿୨୧‿◞ㅤ

As far as you were aware, approximately one hour had passed in a blink of an eye. One hour of both men having you in whatever positions available. Heck, you didn't even know you were this flexible, with how they had you bent forward or backward.

There was a moment when Jungwon had his head buried between your legs, eating your poor red, swollen and sensitive pussy while Sunghoon fucks your mouth. Another moment with Sunghoon fucking you at a frustratingly slow pace, making sure his cock kept hitting that spongy spot hidden between your walls.

At this rate, your voice was hoarse with how much you couldn't stop screaming, protesting or crying. You could barely register your own voice. Your eyes were swollen and puffy with how much tears you shed at your boyfriends' relentless torture. After what felt like centuries, they decided it was time to give you what you've been craving for since the very start.

You let them manhandled you, too exhausted to even lift a single finger but somehow still have the energy to beg for more and more, like you couldn't get enough of having their cocks buried deep inside you. You ended up straddling Jungwon's lap with him laying on the bed, head a few centimeters away from the edge of the bed while Sunghoon's behind you.

All of your clothes were long removed, scattered across the floor of the bedroom. With Jungwon guiding you, you slowly sank down on him, taking him inch by inch. You whimpered, scrunching your nose at the overwhelming pain as you took more of him until he was sheathed to the hilt.

With you on top of him, you sworn you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, hitting places where you thought it was impossible.

"W-Wait-"

You stammered, feeling Sunghoon pushing you down until your back was pushed into a delicious arch, your face awkwardly squished against Jungwon's neck. He kissed your forehead—the display of affection so sweet and intimate despite how you're about to be stuffed full with two cocks.

You bit down onto your bottom lip not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough for you to feel the pain. You could feel Sunghoon's cockhead breaching past your fat, puffy pussy lips.

You cried out, further burying your face in your boyfriend's neck, openly and wetly panting against his skin as Sunghoon continued pushing in. Into the very same hole that currently is holding Jungwon's cock captive.

You can feel your pussy being comically stretched so wide that you had to stifle the pained whimpers. It's a miracle that you didn't start bleeding out of nowhere. You dug your nails into Jungwon's broad shoulders, leaving indents behind as Sunghoon finally bottomed out.

"Oh my fucking god, c-cant-" You keen, feeling incredibly full. Full to the point there was a bulge on your stomach—right over where their cocks were deeply nestled in you.

"Holy shit, hyung, look," Jungwon breathed out, eyes focused on the bludge, showing off the faint outlines of their cocks seen via your stomach.

Sunghoon had to lean forward, the movement drawing moans from all of you, with his cock brushing against Jungwon's cock and sliding deeper into you. You sworn you could feel him kissing your cervix with how deep he is.

He looked over your shoulder to see Jungwon resting his hand against your stomach, his fingers spread out and when he saw the bulge, his eyes darkened a shade. Both of you felt his cock twitched, his fingers twitched from where it rested, resisting the tempting urge to pound into you from behind.

"So good for us, aren't you? Takin' us so well, like you're made for us," Sunghoon hummed, leaning back so he could kiss the sensitive skin under your left ear, giving a light nip to the shell of your ear, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

You pushed yourself up a little, hands resting on Jungwon's shoulders to support yourself as you moved your ass backward, unable to hold back the shameless, needy moan at the heavenly feeling of their cocks rubbing against your sensitive spot. Jungwon grunted, eyes flaring as he watched you setting the pace, slowly rocking back and forth while you ride him.

He moved his hands up, cupping both of your breasts as he kneaded them, like they were dough. He alternated between gentle squeezes and his thumbs flicking your nipples before he pressed down on them. The dual sensation of pleasure from both areas of your body drew a series of sinful sounds from you.

Your arms trembled. Jungwon leaned up to wrap his lips around your left hardened nipple, harshly sucking on it while twirling it with the tip of his tongue. He didn't leave your other nipple unattended, pinching and twisting it with his left hand.

"F-Fuck, s-stop," you weakly protested, squeezing your eyes shut when you feel Sunghoon starting to rock into you from behind.

The bedroom was now filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin along with your pleasured sounds filling in the empty spaces in between at every thrust. Jungwon didn't move, letting you take what you need from him while he continued giving attention to your chest. Sunghoon, on the other hand, reached out to turn your face towards him so he can kiss you while you continued riding Jungwon.

He eagerly swallowed your sounds, tongue sensually gliding against yours. Between the three of them, you were the first to reach your climax and at this rate, you have long lost track of how many times you've cum. It's to no one's surprise, considering how both of your boyfriend goes to the gym often to work on their stamina.

When you cum, it was painfully close to dry with your pussy only pathetically gushing out a few streaks of slick. It landed on both of you and Jungwon's stomachs. You outright sobbed when they continued fucking into you through your climax. To say your pussy was swollen would be an understatement, with how long they've been fucking you as they took turns, be it with their cocks or their mouths.

Sunghoon lowly chuckled into your ear. "Pussy so loose it can't even keep the cum in. Naughty girl."

At his words, he increased the pace, ruthlessly thrusting jackhammering into you, his heavy balls smacking against your asscheeks at every thrust. You couldn't breathed, not when you were sandwiched between them with no escape for you. You squirmed about in their grips but it was futile as their strength completely overwhelmed yours.

Both men eventually reached their climax, cumming in your loose and wide pussy, filling your womb full of their cum. Shivers ran down your spine when you can feel their cum trickling down the paths of your inner thighs. Only for you to scream as Sunghoon scooped them up with two fingers before pushing them back into your pussy.

He made a faux sweet coo at how you sniffled, body trembling whenever he moved his fingers inside you. "Aw, poor baby. Can't take it anymore? But we can't let it go to waste, can we?"

Thankfully, Jungwon came to your rescue. He detached his lips from your swollen with an audible "pop" sound, beyond abused nipple to whack Sunghoon on his shoulder.

"Enough, hyung. She's about to pass out if you continue," he chided, voice authoritative but gentle.

Sunghoon scoffed but obliged nonetheless, pulling his cum-stained fingers out of you, making you whined uncomfortably at the feeling of being pumped full of their cum. No matter how hard you clenched down, it's useless as more and more cum continued slipping out of your pussy. Both men slowly pulled their cocks out of you.

Jungwon shifted to lay you on the clean area of the bed—which wasn't much but it will have to do for now. Sunghoon, on the other hand, got out as he moved to start the aftercare routine for you. It's unfair with how you were thoroughly exhaused, with every ounce of strength wrung dry from your body but the same couldn't be applied to them. Curse them and their high stamina.

Jungwon rested his right hand on your cheek, thumb caressing the skin underneath your eye. His features softened at how your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into his touch.

"You alright, baby? Does it hurt?" He asked softly.

You managed to shake your head lightly. "..I'm fine, I'm sore but it's fine. It was good."

He frowned and you can tell he wasn't convinced.

"No, really, I'm fine, Won. Just let me rest for a few days and I'll be back to normal," you reassured him.

Jungwon hummed, grabbing your hand to press a loving kiss on your palm. The action made your heart skipped a beat, very much like a high school girl whenever she's around her crush. Sunghoon reappeared shortly, now dressed as he held a bunch of towels and three plastic bottles of water. He handed one to Jungwon, who aided you in drinking the bottle, ensuring you were hydrated before downing his own bottle in one go.

"C'mon, up you go, princess," he said, carrying you in his arms bridal-style, chuckling at the startled squeak you let out as you clung onto him, even though you knew he won't drop you.

Jungwon carried you to the joint bathroom as he washed you from head to toe, not leaving any part of your body untouched. He even helped in getting the cum out of your pussy, much to your embarrassment despite the fact you've done this before. Thankfully, Jungwon knew better than to go again. If it was Sunghoon instead, boy you're never leaving the bathroom and the water bills will be incredibly high.

Both of you took turns washing one another, sharing a few giggles and some soft kisses. When you were done, you were feeling more refreshed and clean. Jungwon made you wear his clothes and seeing you in his clothes made Sunghoon cutely scowled when you stepped out.

"Hey, I changed the sheets and you're wearing Won's clothes instead of mine. Talk about betrayal," he complained, acting dramatic like the true dramatic king he is.

You rolled your eyes and because this is Jungwon, he decides to push it further by playfully sticking his tongue out at the older man while holding you close to him.

"You know you can't keep your hands to yourself if you're with her, hyung," he commented and Sunghoon had the audacity to look offended, even though he was right.

"What? I would never!" He exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, the two of you. Stop bickering and let's get some sleep. I'm tired and it's thanks to you."

Jungwon and Sunghoon snickered but they went silent when you shot them a warning look. If looks could kill, they would had died on the spot with how murderous you were. The three of you crawled into bed—with you in the middle, Sunghoon on your right and Jungwon embracing you from behind.

You rested your head on Sunghoon's chest, able to hear his steady, calming heartbeat, which acted like a melody to lull you to sleep. The last thing you heard and felt was the both of them whispering "I love you", followed by two light kisses on your head before you fell asleep, entering the land of dreams, lovingly held in the arms of your two beloved.

[miralinas]

[ adding subtitles to photos] | joshua hong edition

themes: a series of regular - if not normal - moments between the lives of joshua hong and you information: joshua x f!reader, sweet fluff all photos were taken from pinterest based off vibes ^^ all subtitles are fake, created by myself

m. list | join the taglist | requests: open ♡

taglist: @bumbleteas @evemds @my-neurodivergent-world @staranghae @vwintershire @instabull @supertiredblueberry @youthsquaredd @stay-tiny-things @juju-227592 @xh01bri @j3nnch3ls3a @minghowluvr

[sugar-petals]

what is this new era of k-pop contracts 😭

[jaehyp]

𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖪 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖳𝖧𝖱𝖮𝖴𝖦𝖧 𝖨𝖳 ─ 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗃𝗒.

!! pairing: jake sim x fem. reader

!! synopsis: you get jealous watching jake sweet talk his fans on live. he thinks you're mad at him, but then he realizes the truth, you want him to talk you through it. so he does.

!! warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom jake, sub reader, oral (male receiving), fingering, pet names, piv, unprotected sex (dont!), lots of jake sweet talking, lowkey js smut icl

!! wc: 3k

!! a/n: i physically cannot get this live out of my head i lit wrote this at midnight in like 2 hours with talk u through it by kwn blasting in my ears.

You knew it was stupid before you even felt it.

Jake was on live like he always was, like he loved to be leaning back in his chair with that lazy, pretty smile that made thousands of fans lose their minds in the chat. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes. Glasses falling low on his nose causing him to keep pushing it back with one hand while he read comments out loud in that low, warm voice.

"Is the music too loud? You gotta tell me, you gotta communicate."

"Uh huh uh huh, you funny."

"How do you say it? you gotta tell me."

"It's gonna be a good tour so I want everybody here to come."

Your jaw clenched.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, just out of frame, pretending to scroll through your phone. But you weren't reading a single word. All you could hear was him your Jake talking to fans in that soft, commanding tone.

Whatever it was.

He ended the stream twenty minutes later with a warm "Goodbye, I love you all " and a wink that made your stomach twist.

The room went quiet.

He spun in his chair, stretched his arms over his head, and finally looked at you. His smile was easy, unguarded. "You're quiet."

You shrugged. "Just tired."

Jake's eyes narrowed slightly. He stood up, crossed the room, and sat on the bed next to you. Close.

"Did I do something?" he asked softly.

"No."

"Liar."

You finally looked at him. His expression wasn't teasing yet. It was careful. Curious. Like he was genuinely trying to figure out what he'd done wrong.

"You didn't do anything," you snapped. And meant it, kind of. He hadn't done anything. He was just him. And that was the problem.

Jake tilted his head. Then his lips twitched.

"Oh," he said slowly. A new light flickered in his eyes. "Oh."

"What?"

"You're jealous."

"I'm not"

"You are." His voice dropped. Not mean. Just certain. He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers dragging lightly along your skin. "You've been sitting here frowning at your phone for twenty minutes because I was nice to my fans."

Your face went hot. "I wasn't frowning."

"You were pouting."

"I don't pout."

Jake laughed soft and low and leaned closer. His knee pressed against yours. "You're doing it right now."

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he was looking at you the way he looked at the camera, but more. Deeper. Hungrier.

"Baby," he said quietly. The word hit you differently now. Private. "You want me to talk you through it?"

Your breath caught.

There it was.

Your whole body went weak, like he'd pulled a string and everything inside you unraveled. Your phone slipped from your hand onto the bed.

Jake noticed. His smile turned slow. Knowing.

"Yeah," he whispered. "There you are."

"You're shaking," he said softly, not even a question.

You were. Your fingers trembled against your thighs, and you didn't know if it was adrenaline or nerves or the way he was looking at you so intently.

"I'm fine," you whispered.

You could smell his cologne clean, warm, a little smoky. He tilted his head, and one hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

"You're not fine," he said. "But you will be. Because I'm going to take good care of you, okay?"

Your breath caught. "And how are you going to do that?"

His smile was gentle. Almost sweet. But his eyes weren't.

"By giving you exactly what you need but before I do that you're going to give me what I want since you didn't want to admit you're jealous."

Before you know it you're on your knees in front of him, and you've never felt more exposed not because of what you're about to do, but because of the way he's looking at you. Jakes eyes are dark, half lidded, his chest rising and falling a little faster than usual. His hand comes down gently to cup your chin, tilting your face up toward him.

"Wait." His voice is quiet but firm. "Look at me first."

You do. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

"You're gonna tell me if it's too much, yeah? Just tap my leg. Twice. Can you do that for me?"

You nod again, and he smiles that slow, teasing smile that makes your stomach flip.

"Good girl. Now go ahead. Take it off."

Your fingers hook under the elastic. He lifts his hips just enough to help you, and you pull his sweats down slowly, then his boxers. He's already hard, and you hear him let out a soft breath when the air hits his skin.

"There you go," he murmurs. "That's it."

You wrap your hand around him first, just to feel the weight of it. He groans quietly, his head falling back against the wall for a second before he looks down at you again.

"Whenever you're ready, baby. No rush."

You lean in and lick a slow stripe from the base to the tip. His hand moves to your hair not pushing, just resting there, fingers threading through softly.

"Just like that," he says, his voice already rougher. "Warm me up first. Nice and slow."

You take the tip into your mouth and he inhales sharply.

"Oh- yeah. There ya go. That's it. Just a little at a time. You don't have to take it all."

His hands guides you gently, not forcing, just showing you the rhythm he likes. You sink down a little more causing your spit to drip down, he lets out a shaky laugh.

"Messy already, huh?" he says, thumb wiping a bit of spit from the corner of your mouth. "You're doing so good. So fuckin' good."

You moan around him, and he feels it his thigh tenses next to your cheek.

"Fuck. Do that again."

You do. His grip in your hair tightens just slightly, not hard, just there.

"Breathe through your nose," he reminds you. "There you go. You're a natural, you know that?"

You pull off for a second to catch your breath, and a string of spit connects you to him. He looks down at it, then back at your face, and his expression goes soft and dark at the same time.

"Look at you. All messy for me." He cups your cheek. "You want to keep going?"

"Yes," you whisper.

"Yeah? You want me to talk you through it?"

"Please."

He grins. "Then get back here."

You take him in your mouth again, deeper this time, and his composure cracks just a little. A low groan escapes him, and his hips twitch forward before he catches himself.

"Easy," he breathes. "I got you. You're okay. Just- yeah, fuck right there. Stay right there for a second."

He holds you still, not deep throating, just letting you feel him pulse on your tongue. His thumb strokes your cheekbone.

"You feel that? That's you. You're doing that to me."

You look up at him with watery eyes, and something in his face breaks open.

"Holy fuck," he whispers. "You're so fucking pretty like this."

You start moving again, finding a rhythm, and he lets you lead for a while just his hand in your hair, his voice a constant stream above you.

"That's it. Good girl. Don't rush. Just take what you can."

Spit drips down your chin. You don't care. He doesn't either in fact, he watches it happen and groans.

"So messy. I love it. I love you like this."

His breathing gets heavier. His hips start moving in small, shallow thrusts not rough, just desperate.

"I'm gonna- fuck, I'm close. You want me to pull out?"

You shake your head as best you can with him in your mouth.

"Yeah? You want it?"

You moan yes.

"Okay. Okay, baby. Keep going. Just like that. Don't stop- don't stop, you're almost there-"

His voice gets breathy and higher.

"I'm gonna- fuck, fuck right there you're so good "

He cums with a choked sound, his hand cradling the back of your head, holding you gently in place as he spills into your mouth.

"That's it. Take it. You did so good. So fuckin' good for me. I got you. I got you."

When he's done, he pulls you off slowly and immediately pushes his fingers in your mouth to make you show him you swallowed. His forehead presses against yours, both of you breathing hard.

"Fuck you're so perfect for me," he whispers, wiping your mouth with his thumb. "You okay?"

You nod, trembling.

He laughs softly. "Now come here. My turn."

He didn't rush.

That was the first thing you learned about Jake when the cameras were off. He didn't grab or tear or demand. He asked, but in a way that left no room for you to say no.

"Lay back for me," he said quietly.

You laid.

"Good fucking girl."

Those three words hit you somewhere deep, and he saw it. Of course he saw it. He saw everything.

His hands landed on your shoulders warm, solid, grounding. His mouth found your ear.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he murmured. "But you have to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Say yes, Jake.'"

Your throat tightened. "Yes, Jake."

His hands slid down your arms slowly, like he was memorizing you. When he reached your wrists, he didn't grab them he just circled them with his fingers and held.

"I want you to feel everything," he said. "But I don't want you to think. Just feel. Just listen to my voice. Can you do that for me?"

"Fuck yes I can Jake."

"Good."

Then he kissed you.

It wasn't messy at first. It was slow, deliberate, his lips coaxing yours open like he had all the time in the world. One hand stayed on your wrist. The other slid into your hair, gentle but firm, tilting your head exactly where he wanted it.

When he pulled back, you almost whimpered.

"Shh," he breathed. "I've got you. I'm right here."

His thumb traced your cheekbone. "You feel so good already, and I've barely touched you. Do you know that? Do you know how hard it is for me to go this slow?"

You shook your head, lost.

"I'll show you," he said. "But first take off your shirt."

Your hands moved before your brain caught up. The fabric slipped over your head, and suddenly you were standing in front of him in just your bra, and his gaze dropped like a physical weight.

"Gosh so beautiful," he said softly. "Now tell me. Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

"Say it all the way."

"I want you to keep going, Jake please."

His smile was warm, but his voice dropped lower. "Then look all pretty for me while you keep your eyes on me." "I'm going to give you what you deserve cause you've been so good to me," he said. "And every time you feel like you're getting lost, I want you to look at me and watch me talk you through it. Can you do that?"

You nodded.

"Cmon use your words, baby."

"Yes, Jake. I can do that."

"Good girl."

His hand moved first to your side just a slow drag of his fingers from your ribs down to your hip. Then back up. Then down again, lower each time, until his thumb brushed the waistband of your pants.

"You're already breathing so fast," he observed, like he was fascinated. "I love that. I love that I can do this to you without even trying."

His fingers dipped beneath the fabric, just barely. Just enough to make your hips lift off the bed.

"Ah ah," he murmured. "Stay still. I'll give you what you need, but you have to let me lead. Understand?"

"Yes, Jake."

"Perfect."

He pulled your pants down slowly, agonizingly slowly his knuckles grazing your thighs the whole way. When you were bare from the waist down, he just stopped and looked at you.

"You're so wet already," he said, and it wasn't teasing. It was reverent. "Goodness. You really do want this, don't you?"

You couldn't speak. You just nodded.

"I know," he said. "I know, baby. And I'm gonna make you feel so good."

He lowered himself until his mouth was right next to your ear.

"I'm going to put my fingers inside you now," he said, voice low and steady. "And I want you to tell me how it feels. Every single thing. Don't hold back. Can you do that?"

"Mhmm yes Jake yes."

"Then show me."

When his fingers finally touched you just a light, teasing press you gasped so loud you almost scared yourself.

"That's it," he said, circling slowly. "That's exactly it. Let me hear you."

He pushed one finger inside, and your back arched.

"Oh-"

"Yeah," he breathed. "Feel that? That's just the beginning. You're taking me so well already. So fucking good for me."

He added a second finger, and you grabbed his wrist not to stop him, just to hold onto something.

"I know," he said. "I know it's a lot. But you can take it. You're doing so good. Just breathe for me."

He started a rhythm slow, deep, curling his fingers on every pull back. And he kept talking. Kept guiding.

"Every time I do this," he said, pressing exactly where you needed him, "you squeeze around me. Do you feel that? Do you feel how your body knows what to do?"

"Yes- yes, Jake-"

"You're close already, aren't you?"

You couldn't lie. "Yes."

"Not yet," he said, and pulled his fingers out.

You almost cried.

"Shh, shh, shh," he cooed, kissing your forehead. "You gotta listen to me pretty and right now, I'm telling you you're not cumming until I'm inside you. You understand?"

"Please-"

"Please what?"

"Please, Jake- I need you-"

He smiled. That same gentle, devastating smile. "That's all you had to say."

He pulled off his own clothes in a way that should have been rushed but wasn't. Every movement was deliberate. When he was bare, he knelt between your legs and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking once, twice.

"Look at me," he said.

You looked.

"I'm going to go slow," he said. "But I'm not going to stop. If it's too much, you tell me yeah? I'll be right here through everything Understand?"

"Yes, Jake."

He lined himself up, and then he pushed inside just an inch. Just enough to make you both gasp.

"Oh my god-"

"I know," he groaned, dropping his forehead to yours. "I know, baby. You feel- fuck- you feel so good. Better than I imagined. And I've imagined this a lot."

He pushed deeper, and your nails dug into his shoulders.

"That's it," he whispered. "Take all of me. You're doing so good. So fucking good for me."

When he was fully inside, he stopped. Just held there, letting you adjust, his breath hot and shaky against your cheek.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes- yes, please don't stop "

"I won't," he said. "I'm gonna move now. And I want you to keep your eyes on mine. Don't look away."

He started moving slow at first, then deeper, then faster in a way that was still controlled but just on the edge of messy. His hips snapped against yours, and the sound of it filled the room.

"You feel that?" he breathed. "That's me inside you. That's me taking care of you. You're not thinking about anything else right now, are you?"

You shook your head, barely able to speak.

"No," he said. "Because I've got you. I've got all of you. And you're so- god- you're so perfect like this all fucked out. Messy and loud and all mine."

His hand slid between your bodies and found you he pressed exactly where you needed him and you shattered.

"Let go for me baby," he commanded softly. "I've got you.

You did. You cum undone completely, crying out his name, and he followed right after burying his face in your neck and groaning low and long as he spilled inside you.

He didn't stop talking, even then.

"That's it," he murmured against your skin. "That's my good girl. You did so well. You took everything I gave you. I'm so proud of you."

Afterward, he didn't pull away.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, breathing hard, one hand cradling the back of your head. Then he eased out slowly and gathered you against his chest.

"You okay?" he asked again.

You nodded against his shoulder, still trembling.

"Talk to me," he said softly. "I need to hear your voice."

"That was-" you started, then laughed weakly. "I can't even think."

He smiled and kissed your hair. "Good. That's what I wanted."

He pulled the blanket over both of you and held you tighter.

"You were so good for me," he said one more time. "And tomorrow, I'm gonna talk you through it all over again."

You smiled knowing he meant every word.

[yourislandgirl]

݁⋆. VISUAL REASONS ˚.⋆ || 박성훈 x fem!reader || smau

ib; sunghoon’s recent gym pics bcs they revived my soul

summary: sunghoon wants to be a gentleman and drive you home from work, but clearly telling you to stop by the gym was a mistake .. or maybe not

genres: fluff, romance, suggestive, smau, est. relationship, non-idol!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings: swearing/cursing, attempts at humour, pet names, suggestive jokes and references, nothing explicit tho, a hurried frenzy of an smau bcs i made this in a trance

[archive]

a.n: man .. i was feeling so out of it for ages since . well yk.. BUT NOTHING LIKE SUNGHOON GYM PICS TO BRING ME BACK TO LIFE sighhh i love that man

perm taglist: @azurestream — @sheepsgf — @enjakey — @rynnest — @jaylaxies — @tobiosbbyghorl — @hoondrop — @chaeneu — @laylasbunbunny — @lottie810 — @hoonsocks — @wonuziex — @gyuzies — @rageholic-alcoholic — @saraabbas

2026 © yourislandgirl

[ do not copy my work ]

[lac4ygal]

WHAT THE MOON REMEMBERS

— y.jw

‎ꫂ᭪݁ PAIRINGS. Yang Jungwon x Female Reader

‎ꫂ᭪݁ GENRE. Reincarnation AU | Soulmates | Historical Fiction | Angst with Happy Ending | Romance | Tragedy | Multiple Timelines

‎ꫂ᭪݁ SUMMARY. Across seven lifetimes you and Jungwon find each other again and again. Every time, the pull is undeniable. Every time, he promises that he’ll find you in the next life. But the moon has watched you love and lose each other over and over for centuries. This time, can you finally break the cycle? Or is your love destined to be eternal and heartbreaking in equal measure in every sense of the world?

‎ꫂ᭪݁ WORD COUNT. 30.6k

‎ꫂ᭪݁ WARNINGS. explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), penetrative sex, oral sex (m and f), praise, first time, loss of virginity (m and f), major character death multiple times, war and military themes, depictions of violence, descriptions of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, tuberculosis, cancer, drowning, war, building collapse, themes of grief, car accident and hospitalization, terminal illness, strong language, emotional distress, references historical traumas

‎ꫂ᭪݁ PLAYLIST. What The Moon Remembers

‎ꫂ᭪݁ LAC4YGAL NOTE. this broke me to write them loosing each other over and over but the final life is so precious. it took me ages to figure out how I wanted to go about this idea but I think I maybe nailed it??!! listen to the playlist as you read; it adds so much more! reblogs, likes, comments and feedback are always appreciated and keep me writing. I hope you love this as much as I did writing it, enjoy!🤍

‎ꫂ᭪݁ TAGLIST. @kristynaaah @yuudaiinhs @urlocalengene @woninlove @n4n4files @jimineepaboya @grdientlips (just ask to be added to perm taglist lovelies)

‎ꫂ᭪݁ MY MASTERLIST.

1770 — Jungwon’s POV

The pain is what wakes him. It’s everywhere— his chest, his side, his leg— a white-hot burning that makes breathing feel like dragging shards of glass through his lungs. Jungwon tries to move and immediately regrets it, a groan escaping through clenched teeth.

“Easy.” A voice cuts through the haze, soft but firm. “Don’t try to sit up yet.” He forces his eyes open, squinting against the dim candlelight. The ceiling above him is canvas, stained and sagging. A medical tent, he realizes slowly. The smell hits him next— blood, infection, unwashed bodies, death. He’s in a field hospital.

The battle. Right. There was a battle. He remembers musket fire, smoke so thick he couldn’t see three feet ahead, the screaming of men and horses. He remembers pain exploding in his chest, the ground rushing up to meet him, thinking this is it as the world went dark. But he’s not dead. Apparently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier.” Jungwon turns his head— slowly, because even that hurts— and sees her for the first time.

She’s young, probably close to his age, with tired eyes and capable hands currently wringing out a cloth in a basin of water. Her dress is simple, stained with blood that he hopes isn’t all his, and her hair is pulled back in a practical bun with loose strands escaping around her face. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “How bad is it?” he manages, his voice rough and unfamiliar.

She glances at him, and something flickers in her expression— pity, maybe, or resignation. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. Musket ball to the chest, missed your heart by maybe an inch. Another in your leg. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“But I’ll live?” He tries for a smile. “You’re not just keeping me comfortable while I die, are you?”

“That depends entirely on whether infection sets in.” She wrings out the cloth and moves closer, pressing it gently to his forehead. It’s blessedly cool. “And on whether you follow my instructions and rest instead of trying to be charming.”

“I can’t help being charming,” Jungwon says. “It’s a curse.”

Despite herself, she almost smiles. Almost. “Save your energy. You’re going to need it.”

Over the next few days, Jungwon learns three things.

One: Getting shot hurts significantly worse than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined it would be pretty terrible.

Two: Field hospitals are hell on earth— the sounds of men dying, the smell of rot and gunpowder, the constant stream of new wounded being carried in on stretchers.

Three: The nurse— he learns her name eventually, after asking three times because she keeps deflecting— is the only good thing about being here.

She tends to his wounds twice a day, changing bandages with gentle efficiency, checking for signs of infection. She brings him water when he asks, broth when he can stomach it, and occasionally reads to him from a battered copy of poetry she keeps in her apron pocket when the nights are long and he can’t sleep through the pain. “You don’t have to do that,” he says one night, when she’s been reading for nearly an hour.

She looks up from the book, candlelight catching in her eyes. “Do what?”

“Stay with me. I know you have other patients.”

“The others are sleeping.” She marks her place with one finger. “And you’re the only one who actually appreciates poetry. Most of the men just want me to write letters to their wives.”

“Do you do that?”

“When they ask.” Her voice softens. “When they can still speak clearly enough to dictate.” The implication hangs heavy between them. When they’re not too far gone.

“Will you write a letter for me?” Jungwon asks. “If it comes to that?”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then: “It won’t come to that. You’re going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually. I’ve been doing this for two years. I know who makes it and who doesn’t.” She meets his eyes, fierce and certain. “You’re going to make it.”

He wants to believe her. God, he wants to believe her. “When I do,” he says, emboldened by fever or stupidity or both, “I’m going to take you on a date. Dinner, dancing, the whole thing.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now— a real smile that transforms her whole face. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to.” He reaches for her hand, and after a brief hesitation, she lets him take it. Her fingers are cool and steady against his. “I’d like to know everything about you.”

“You’re delirious.”

“Maybe. But I still mean it.” She squeezes his hand gently before pulling away to return to her rounds. But the next night, she comes back. And the night after that.

They talk, in those stolen moments between her duties. He learns that she’s a farmer’s daughter, that she learned nursing from her mother, that she came to the war because her brother was fighting and she wanted to help. He tells her about his life before— the apprenticeship he left behind, the family he hasn’t seen in months, the future he’d planned that seems impossibly distant now. “What will you do?” she asks one night. “After the war?”

“If we win? I don’t know. Go home, I suppose. Try to remember what peace feels like.” He shifts carefully, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “What about you?”

“The same, I think. Go home. Try to forget all of this.” She gestures vaguely at the tent, the rows of wounded men, the ever-present specter of death.

“I won’t forget you,” Jungwon says quietly.

She looks at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression. “You should. It would be easier.”

“I don’t want easier. I want—” He stops, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“What do you want?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

You, he thinks but doesn’t say. I want you. I want to survive this. I want to take you dancing like I promised. I want a future where we’re not surrounded by death and blood and the smell of gunpowder.

“I want to see you smile again,” he says instead. “Like you did the other night. A real smile, not the one you give the patients.”

She does smile then, soft and sad. “You’re a foolish man, soldier.”

“Jungwon,” he corrects. “My name is Jungwon.”

“I know.” She stands, smoothing her apron. “Get some rest, Jungwon. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“Close enough.”

The days blur together. Jungwon’s strength slowly returns— he can sit up without help now, can eat solid food, can even stand for a few minutes at a time with support. The wounds are healing, she tells him, better than expected. No infection. He’s lucky. He doesn’t feel lucky. He feels like he’s been given a second chance and doesn’t know what to do with it. “When can I leave?” he asks one morning.

She’s changing his bandages, her touch gentle but impersonal. “When you can walk unassisted. When the doctor clears you. When there’s somewhere for you to go.”

“Will you miss me?” He’s only half-joking.

“Terribly,” she says, but there’s something true underneath the sarcasm. “Who else will I read poetry to at midnight?”

“You could read to the other patients.”

“They don’t listen like you do.” She finishes with the bandage and sits back. “There. You’re healing well. Another week, maybe two, and you’ll be back to fighting shape.” The thought of going back to battle makes his stomach turn. Going back to the killing, the chaos, the constant fear. But what choice does he have? The war isn’t over. His unit will want him back.

“What if I don’t go back?” he asks quietly.

She looks at him sharply. “They’d call that desertion.”

“What if I don’t care?”

“Jungwon—”

“I could stay here. Help with the wounded. I’m no good as a soldier anyway— I got myself shot in the first real battle.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” But her voice is gentler now. “The fever—”

“I’m not feverish. I’m just…” He trails off, struggling to articulate the feeling. “I’m tired. I’m tired of war. I’m tired of watching boys die. I’m tired of pretending I’m brave when all I want is to go home.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches out and takes his hand, holding it between both of hers. “You are brave,” she says firmly. “Being afraid doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you human.”

“I don’t feel brave.”

“No one ever does.” She squeezes his hand. “But you’re still here. You’re still fighting. That takes courage.”

He looks down at their joined hands, her fingers small and delicate against his calloused palms. He wants to tell her that she’s the reason he’s still fighting, that the thought of seeing her each day is the only thing that makes the pain bearable, that he’s started imagining a future that includes her in it. But before he can find the words, she pulls away and stands.

“Rest,” she says. “I’ll check on you later.” He watches her move through the tent, stopping at each bedside, offering water or adjusting bandages or simply sitting with the men who have no one else. She’s good at this, he realizes. Good at offering comfort in a place where there’s so little of it to be found. He wonders if she knows how extraordinary she is.

That night, she comes to his bedside with her book of poetry, like she has every night for the past two weeks. “Can’t sleep?” she asks, settling into the chair beside him.

“Hurts less when I’m distracted,” he admits. “And your voice helps.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you to stay, didn’t it?”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she opens the book. “Where did we leave off?”

“The one about the soldier and his love,” Jungwon says. “The sad one.”

“They’re all sad.”

“Read it anyway.” She does, her voice low and melodic in the quiet tent. Around them, men sleep or moan in pain or whisper prayers to gods who seem very far away. But in this small circle of candlelight, it’s just the two of them.

When she finishes, Jungwon doesn’t want her to leave. “Stay,” he says. “Just a little longer.” She should say no. She should check on the other patients, get some sleep herself, maintain the professional distance she’s supposed to keep. Instead, she stays.

“Tell me something,” he says. “Something real. Not about the war or medicine or any of this. Tell me about you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, considering. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Anything. What makes you happy?”

“Small things,” she says eventually. “The first warm day of spring. Fresh bread. The sound of rain on the roof.” She pauses. “My mother’s garden. She grows roses, and in summer the whole house smells like them.”

“That sounds beautiful.”

“It is. Was.” Her voice catches slightly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see it again.”

“You will,” Jungwon says with more confidence than he feels. “This war will end. You’ll go home to your mother’s roses. You’ll—” He stops, because he doesn’t know what her future holds. He barely knows what his own does.

“What about you?” she asks. “What makes you happy?”

He thinks about it. “Music. My sister plays the pianoforte, and sometimes in the evenings we’d sing together. And stargazing. There’s something about looking up at the stars that makes everything else feel smaller, more manageable.”

“I like that,” she murmurs. “The idea that we’re small. That all of this—” she gestures vaguely “—is small in the grand scheme of things.”

“Do you think the stars care about our little human wars?”

“I doubt it.” She tilts her head, considering. “But maybe the moon does. It’s closer, more personal. Maybe it watches us and remembers.”

Something about those words sends a shiver through him, though he couldn’t say why. “The moon remembers,” he repeats softly. “I like that.”

She stands then, and he feels the loss of her presence acutely. “Where are you going?”

“Just to the window,” she says. “I want to show you something.” She crosses to the side of the tent and opens the canvas flap that serves as a window, tying it back to let in the night air. Cool autumn wind rushes in, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and distant rain.

And there, hanging low in the sky, is the moon. Full and bright and impossibly beautiful. “Oh,” Jungwon breathes. She returns to his bedside, and together they look out at the moon in silence. “It’s lovely,” he says finally.

“It is.” She’s still gazing at it, her face soft in the silvery light. “When I was young, my mother used to tell me that the moon was a guardian. That it watched over travelers and lovers and anyone who needed guidance in the dark.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know. But I like the idea of it. That something up there is watching. That we’re not alone.”

Jungwon reaches for her hand again, and this time she doesn’t pull away. They sit like that for a long moment, hands clasped, looking at the moon. “Do you think the moon remembers us?” he asks suddenly.

She turns to look at him, confused. “What?”

“The moon. Do you think it remembers us? All the people who have looked up at it, throughout all of history?”

“That’s…” She trails off, searching for words. “That’s a strange question.”

“I know. But do you think it does?”

She considers it seriously. “Maybe. Maybe it keeps track of all the stories. All the lovers and soldiers and lost souls who’ve ever gazed up at it.”

“Then it will remember this,” Jungwon says quietly. “Remember us. This moment.”

“Why would this moment matter?”

“Because I want it to.” He squeezes her hand gently. “Because someday, when this is all over, I want to believe that something in the universe will remember that we were here. That we mattered.”

She’s looking at him with such tenderness that his breath catches. “You matter,” she whispers. “To me, you matter.”

And then she leans down and kisses him. It’s soft, gentle, over almost before it begins. But when she pulls back, they’re both trembling. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she says.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Jungwon—”

“When I’m better,” he interrupts, “I’m going to take you dancing. Like I promised. And I’m going to kiss you properly, somewhere that isn’t a hospital tent that smells like death.”

She laughs, and it sounds like tears. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m in love with you.” The words hang in the air between them, bold and terrifying and true. She doesn’t say it back. But she doesn’t let go of his hand either.

“Rest,” she says eventually, her voice unsteady. “You need to rest.”

“Will you stay?”

“For a little while.” She stays until he falls asleep, her hand in his, the moon watching through the open window.

For three more days, things are good. Better than good. She still maintains her professional distance during the day, but at night she comes to him with her book and her gentle hands and occasionally, when they’re alone, her lips.

He’s getting stronger. Can walk the length of the tent with only minimal pain. The doctor says another week, maybe two, and he’ll be fit enough to rejoin his unit. Neither of them talks about what happens then.

On the fourth night, something changes. Jungwon wakes in the middle of the night to find her beside him, like always. But something’s different. He feels… off. Feverish, maybe, though his skin is cool to the touch. “You should be sleeping,” she murmurs, noticing he’s awake.

“Couldn’t.” He shifts, and pain lances through his chest. “Feels different tonight.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere. Nowhere. I don’t know.” He tries to sit up and finds he can’t. “I think… I think I’m more tired than I realized.”

Concern flashes across her face. She places her hand on his forehead, checking for fever. “You’re not warm.”

“I know. I just…” He trails off, struggling to explain the feeling. Like something inside him is winding down. Like a clock running out of time. “Stay with me?”

“I’m here.” She takes his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. That’s good.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. “Can you open the window? I want to see the moon.” She does, and the silvery light spills across his bed.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just like before.”

“Just like before,” she agrees, but her voice is strained.

“I want you to know,” Jungwon says slowly, each word taking effort, “that these past few weeks have been the happiest of my life.”

“Don’t.” Her voice breaks. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I mean it. Getting shot was the best thing that ever happened to me, because it brought me to you.”

Tears are streaming down her face now. “Jungwon, please—”

“Listen.” He squeezes her hand with what strength he has left. “If I don’t make it—”

“You’re going to make it. You have to make it. You promised me a dance, remember?”

“I remember.” He smiles, and it costs him. “But if I don’t… if something happens…”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“But if it does.” He’s fading, he can feel it, like sand slipping through fingers. “I need you to know that I’ll find you in the next life.”

She’s sobbing now. “What are you talking about? There is no next life, there’s only this one, and you’re going to be fine—”

“I’ll find you,” he says again, and he means it with every fiber of his being. “However long it takes. Whatever it costs. I’ll find you.”

“Jungwon—”

“Promise me you’ll remember. Promise me you’ll look for me too.”

“I promise,” she chokes out, even though she doesn’t understand, even though she thinks he’s delirious. “I promise.”

“Good.” His eyes are getting heavy. “That’s good. I’m just going to rest for a minute. Just… just a minute…”

“No, stay awake. Please stay awake. I need to get the doctor—“ But she can’t bring herself to let go of his hand. Can’t bring herself to leave him, even to get help.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not afraid.”

“I’m terrified,” she admits.

“Don’t be. I’ll see you again. I know I will.” He looks at her one more time, trying to memorize her face. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Did I tell you that?”

“No.”

“Well, you are. And I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” she sobs. “I love you, please don’t go—” But his eyes are already closing, his hand going slack in hers. “Jungwon? Jungwon!” She’s screaming for the doctor, for anyone, but she knows it’s too late. She can see it in the stillness of his chest, the absence of breath. He’s gone.

She collapses over him, sobbing, and outside the moon continues its silent vigil, remembering everything, bearing witness to yet another story of love and loss.

In the morning, they’ll take his body away. They’ll bury him in an unmarked grave with dozens of other soldiers whose names will be forgotten.

But she’ll remember. She’ll remember his smile, his promises, the way he looked at the moon and asked if it remembered them. She’ll remember for the rest of her life. And somewhere, somehow, the moon remembers too.

1850 — Your POV

The wedding is beautiful in the way that expensive things often are— beautiful and cold and utterly devoid of warmth.

You stand at the altar in a dress that cost more than most people earn in a year, ivory silk and French lace that weighs you down like chains. The church is full of people you barely know, friends of your father’s mostly, society figures who’ve come to witness the union of two respectable families. You don’t look at the man beside you. Your husband. The word feels foreign, wrong.

The ceremony passes in a blur. You say the words when prompted, mechanical and hollow. I do. I will. Till death do us part. Death seems very far away.

When it’s over, when you’ve signed the papers that make you his property in the eyes of God and the law, you’re ushered into a carriage for the journey to his— your— estate. And you still haven’t looked at him properly.

“Are you well?” he asks quietly as the carriage lurches into motion.It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to you all day. His voice is pleasant enough, polite, carefully neutral.

“Quite well, thank you.” Your own voice sounds distant to your ears. “And you?”

“Well enough.” Silence descends again. You stare out the window at the countryside rolling past, green and lush and utterly indifferent to your misery.

This is your life now. Mrs. Yang Jungwon. Wife to a man you’ve met exactly three times before today— once at the engagement announcement, once at a chaperoned dinner, and once in passing at a social function where you’d exchanged perhaps a dozen words.

You know almost nothing about him except what your father told you: good family, substantial fortune, respectable reputation. A suitable match. No one asked if you wanted to be suitably matched.

The estate, when you arrive, is massive and imposing. Gray stone, manicured gardens, the kind of old money grandeur that’s meant to intimidate. It works. “Welcome home,” Jungwon says as he helps you down from the carriage. Home. The word rings hollow.

The staff is assembled to greet you— housekeeper, butler, lady’s maid, cook, and various others whose names you immediately forget. They curtsy and bow, welcoming the new lady of the house, and you smile because it’s expected.

“Mrs. Choi will show you to your rooms,” Jungwon says. “I imagine you’ll want to rest after the journey.” Your rooms. Separate rooms. Of course.

“Thank you,” you murmur. Mrs. Choi, the housekeeper, is a stern-faced woman in her fifties who leads you up a grand staircase and down a long hallway to a suite of rooms that will be yours. Bedroom, dressing room, private sitting room. All decorated in shades of cream and gold, elegant and expensive and utterly impersonal.

“Dinner is at eight,” Mrs. Choi informs you. “Ring if you need anything.”

And then you’re alone. You sink onto the bed— your bed— and stare at the ceiling. This is it. This is your life now. You’ll live in this house with this stranger, produce heirs if you can manage it, and grow old in separate bedrooms. You don’t cry. You’re too numb for tears.

The first weeks of marriage establish a pattern. You see Jungwon at breakfast and dinner. The meals are formal, served in a dining room far too large for two people. Conversation is stilted and polite. He asks about your day. You ask about his. Neither of you says anything of substance.

At night, you retire to your separate rooms. He’s made no move to consummate the marriage, and you’re grateful for it. The thought of that kind of intimacy with a stranger makes your skin crawl.

You fill your days with the expected activities of a lady of the house— consulting with the cook about menus, reviewing household accounts, receiving calls from neighbors who want to inspect the new bride. It’s all terribly boring.

Jungwon seems equally miserable, though he’s better at hiding it. He spends most of his time in his study, managing the estate or whatever it is men do in their studies. Sometimes you hear him playing the pianoforte in the music room late at night, melancholy pieces that drift through the halls like ghosts. You don’t disturb him.

A month passes. Then two. You’re reading in the library one afternoon when he finds you there. “I’m sorry,” he says, hovering in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s your library.” You close the book. “You can hardly intrude.”

“I suppose.” But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he moves closer, looking at the spines on the shelves with genuine interest. “What are you reading?”

You show him the cover. “Byron.”

His eyebrows rise. “Not the usual choice for a lady.”

“I’m not the usual lady.”

“Clearly.” And for the first time since the wedding, he almost smiles. “I like Byron too. Though I prefer Wordsworth.”

“Wordsworth is lovely, but Byron has more passion.”

“Passion is overrated. Give me quiet reflection any day.”

“That sounds desperately boring.”

“Perhaps I am desperately boring.”You study him properly for the first time. He’s handsome, you suppose, in a classical way. Dark hair, serious eyes, the kind of refined features that look good in portraits. But there’s something sad about him too, a resigned quality that mirrors your own feelings.

“Why did you agree to this?” you ask suddenly. “The marriage. If you didn’t want it.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “How do you know I didn’t want it?”

“Because you’re as miserable as I am.”

He doesn’t deny it. “My father arranged it. Said it was time I settled down, secured the family line. I’m the only son, so…” He trails off with a shrug.

“So you had no more choice than I did.”

“No.” He meets your eyes. “I’m sorry. For both of us.” It’s the most honest conversation you’ve had.

“We’re rather pathetic, aren’t we?” you say. “Two people with everything anyone could want, absolutely miserable.”

“Quite pathetic,” he agrees. And then he does smile, small and wry. “But at least we have good taste in poetry.” It’s not much. But it’s something.

After that, things shift slightly. You start having breakfast together in the smaller morning room instead of the formal dining room. The conversation is still careful, but less strained. You discover he has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard. He discovers you have opinions about things women aren’t supposed to have opinions about— politics, philosophy, the appalling state of labor conditions in the factories. “You’re very radical,” he observes one morning over tea.

“And you’re very traditional.”

“Not by choice.”

“None of us are anything by choice, apparently.” He laughs at that, and the sound surprises both of you.

You start spending time together outside of meals. Reading in the library simultaneously, taking walks around the grounds, playing cards in the evening. It’s not romance, but it’s companionship. Friendship, almost.

You learn things about him. That he wanted to be a physician but his father forbade it, said it was beneath their station. That he plays the pianoforte to calm his mind when he can’t sleep. That he has nightmares sometimes, though he won’t say about what.

He learns things about you too. That you wanted to attend university but of course that was impossible. That you’re terrified of thunderstorms. That you once punched a boy who tried to kiss you without permission, and your father was furious but your mother was secretly proud. “I would have liked to meet your mother,” Jungwon says one evening.

“She would have liked you.” You pause. “I think she would have been glad I ended up with someone kind, at least.”

“Kind seems like damning with faint praise.”

“It’s more than most women get.” He can’t argue with that.

Three months into the marriage, something changes. You’re coming back from a walk in the gardens when a thunderstorm rolls in suddenly, violent and loud. You make it to the house but you’re soaked through, trembling not from cold but from fear.

Jungwon finds you in the entrance hall, dripping water onto the marble. “Are you alright?” He’s at your side immediately, concerned.

“Fine. Just— the storm—” Thunder cracks overhead and you flinch badly. Without thinking, he pulls you against him, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. It’s just noise.” You bury your face against his shoulder, embarrassed by your fear but unable to help it. He’s warm and solid and he smells like sandalwood and old books.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his waistcoat.

“Don’t be.” His hand moves in soothing circles on your back. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

You stay like that until the worst of the storm passes, wrapped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat steady against your cheek. When you finally pull back, you’re both acutely aware of how close you are. His hands are still on your waist. Your fingers are twisted in his shirt. “I should change,” you say quietly. “Before I catch cold.”

“Yes. Of course.” But he doesn’t let go immediately.

“Jungwon—”

“I know.” He steps back, dropping his hands. “I’ll have Mrs. Choi draw you a bath.”

That night, you can’t stop thinking about how it felt to be held by him. How natural it seemed. How much you didn’t want him to let go. This is dangerous territory even though you’re married to him. But you can feel yourself falling.

After the storm, you can’t seem to go back to polite distance. You start sitting closer together when you read. Hands brushing when you pass the teapot. Long looks across the dinner table that make your pulse race.

One evening, you’re playing the pianoforte— badly, you’re the first to admit— and he comes to sit beside you on the bench. “May I?” he asks.

You slide over to make room. He begins to play, something soft and lovely that you don’t recognize. His hands move over the keys with practiced ease. “That’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“It’s Chopin. Nocturne in E-flat major.”

“Play it again?” He does, and this time you watch his hands instead of the keys. Beautiful hands, long fingers, careful and precise.

When he finishes, he doesn’t move away. “You’re staring,” he says softly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He turns to look at you, and his face is very close to yours. “I stare at you all the time.”

Your breath catches. “You do?”

“Constantly. I thought you’d noticed.”

“I… no. I didn’t.”

“Well. Now you know.”

The air between you feels electric. You’re very aware of his thigh pressed against yours on the bench, the warmth of his body, the way his eyes drop to your lips. “We should—” you start.

“Yes,” he agrees. Neither of you moves.

“This is madness,” you whisper.

“Probably.”

“We barely know each other.”

“I know.” His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “But I’d like to. Know you, I mean. If you’ll let me.”

“Yes.” The word comes out breathless. “Yes, I—”

He kisses you. It’s soft at first, tentative, giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into him, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, and the kiss deepens. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard.

“I should go,” you say, even though you don’t want to.

“Stay.” His forehead rests against yours. “Please stay. I know we didn’t choose this. I know we started as strangers. But I…” He pulls back to look at you. “I’m falling in love with you. Is that insane?”

Your heart is pounding. “If it is, then I’m insane too.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you feel something unlock in your chest. Permission to feel this. Permission to want. “Come with me,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Where?”

“To my room. If you want. We don’t have to— I just want to be near you.” You should say no. This is too fast, too sudden, even though you’re married and have every right. But you take his hand.

His bedroom is larger than yours, decorated in deep greens and dark wood. Masculine and elegant. The bed is massive, four-poster, imposing. “Second thoughts?” he asks, seeing you hesitate.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” You laugh nervously. “I’ve never… that is, I don’t know what I’m supposed to…”

Understanding dawns on his face. “Ah. Your mother didn’t—”

“She died before we could have that conversation.”

“I see.” He moves closer, taking both your hands. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I want to.” And you do. God help you, you do. “I just… don’t know how.”

“Neither do I, really.” At your surprised look, he shrugs. “I’ve had opportunities, but I never… it didn’t feel right. With anyone else.”

“And this feels right? With me?”

“Everything feels right with you.” He kisses you again, slow and sweet, walking you backwards until your legs hit the bed. You sit, and he kneels in front of you, looking up with such tenderness it makes you ache. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promises. “And if you want to stop at any point—”

“I won’t.” You cup his face. “I trust you.”

What follows is gentle and awkward and lovely. He helps you out of your dress with shaking hands, fumbling with buttons and laces until you’re both laughing. You help him with his waistcoat, his shirt, until you’re both down to undergarments and the laughter has faded into something heavier. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, looking at you in your chemise.

“So are you.” He’s all lean muscle and smooth skin when he strips off his undershirt. You reach out to touch his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm.

“Nervous?” you ask.

“Terrified.” But he’s smiling. “You?”

“Same.”

He lays you back on the bed, covering your body with his, and for a moment you just look at each other. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too.”

The first touch of his skin against yours makes you gasp. He’s warm and solid and careful, so careful with you. “Tell me what feels good,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw, your neck.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then we’ll find out.” His hands are gentle as they explore your body over the thin chemise. Learning the shape of you, the places that make you shiver. When he brushes over your breast, you arch into the touch.

“There?” he asks.

“Yes. There.” He does it again, more deliberately this time, and pleasure sparks through you. His mouth follows his hands, kissing across your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts still covered by fabric.

“Can I…?” He tugs at the hem of your chemise. You sit up enough to let him pull it over your head, and then you’re bare before him. For a moment, he just looks.

“Stop staring,” you mumble, fighting the urge to cover yourself.

“Can’t help it.” His voice is rough. “You’re perfect.” His mouth finds your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple, and you cry out at the sensation. He takes his time, lavishing attention on both breasts until you’re squirming beneath him.

“Please,” you gasp, though you’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“I’ve got you.” His hand slides down your stomach, over the curve of your hip, coming to rest on your thigh. He pauses there, giving you time to object. You spread your legs instead. “God,” he breathes. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

His fingers find you, exploring carefully. You’re wet, embarrassingly so, and he makes a sound low in his throat. “Is this alright?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

He strokes through your folds, learning what makes you gasp and moan. When he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex, you nearly come off the bed. “There,” you pant. “Right there, please—”

He circles your clit with careful pressure, watching your face as pleasure builds. His other hand is braced beside your head, supporting his weight, and you can see how much this is affecting him too— the flush on his cheeks, the way his pupils have blown wide.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. “So responsive.”

One finger slides inside you and you clench around the intrusion. It’s strange but not unpleasant, a fullness you’ve never felt before. “Okay?” he asks.

“More. Please, more.”

He adds a second finger, working them in and out while his thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit. The pleasure builds and builds, tension coiling low in your belly. “I think—” you gasp. “I think something’s happening—”

“Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

His fingers curl inside you, hitting some spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes, and you shatter. Your back arches, a cry torn from your throat as your cunt pulses around his fingers. He works you through it, gentle and steady, until you collapse back against the bed.

“That was—” You can’t find words. “What was that?”

“Pleasure.” He’s grinning now, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Did you like it?”

“I think I might die if we never do that again.” He laughs and kisses you, and you can taste your own arousal on his lips.

“Your turn,” you say when you can speak again.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” You reach for the fastenings of his trousers. “Show me?” He helps you strip him of the last of his clothing, and then he’s bare before you. His cock is hard, flushed and leaking, and you’re struck by how vulnerable he looks like this. You wrap your hand around him experimentally, and he hisses. “Too much?”

“No. Perfect. You’re perfect.”

You stroke him slowly, learning the weight of him in your hand, the way his hips buck when you twist your wrist just so.

“I want—” He breaks off, breathing hard. “Can I be inside you?”

“Yes.” You’ve never wanted anything more. “Please.”

He positions himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He’s shaking. “This might hurt,” he warns. “I’ll go slow.”

He pushes in gradually, giving you time to adjust. There’s a pinch of pain as he breaches you, and you grip his shoulders.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Just breathe.” He goes deeper, inch by careful inch, until he’s fully seated inside you. The fullness is overwhelming, bordering on too much, but underneath the discomfort is something else. Something that feels right.

“Okay?” he grits out, clearly struggling to hold still.

“Okay. You can move.”

He does, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. The pain fades with each stroke, replaced by a building pleasure. You wrap your legs around his waist, changing the angle, and he hits something inside you that makes you moan.

“There,” you gasp. “Just like that.”

He finds a rhythm, steady and deep, his hips rolling against yours. One hand slides between your bodies to find your clit again, and the combined sensations are almost too much. “You feel so good,” he pants. “So perfect. Like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was.” You’re babbling now, lost in pleasure. “Maybe we were made for each other.”

“Yes. God, yes.” His thrusts become more urgent, less controlled. You can feel him getting close, his cock swelling inside you, and you clench down deliberately. “Fuck,” he gasps. “I’m—I’m going to—”

“Do it. Inside me.”

He does with a broken moan, his hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you. The feeling of his cock pulsing, the warmth flooding you, pushes you over the edge again. Your cunt clenches around him as you come, milking him through his orgasm. He collapses beside you, pulling out carefully, and gathers you into his arms.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. You just lie there, sweaty and satisfied and stunned by what just happened. “That was—” he starts.

“Incredible,” you finish.

“I was going to say ‘better than I imagined’ but incredible works too.”

You laugh and press a kiss to his chest. “You imagined it?”

“Constantly. For weeks. I was going mad with wanting you.”

“You could have said something.”

“And risk you thinking I was some beast who only wanted you for that?” He strokes your hair. “I wanted you to choose me. To want me back.”

“I do.” You look up at him. “Want you, I mean. All of you. Not just the physical parts, though those are very nice.”

He grins. “Very nice?”

“Exceptional. Earth-shattering. Is that better?”

“Much.”

You settle against him, content in a way you’ve never been before. This wasn’t what you expected when you walked down that aisle three months ago. You thought you’d be trapped in a loveless marriage, going through the motions for the rest of your life. Instead, you’ve found this. Found him.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too.” He kisses the top of your head. “My wife.” The word doesn’t sound wrong anymore.

The next few months are the happiest of your life.

You and Jungwon are inseparable. You spend your days together— riding, reading, walking the grounds. The nights are for other things, learning each other’s bodies with increasing confidence and creativity. You make love in his bed, in your bed, once daringly in the library. He learns all the ways to make you fall apart, and you learn what makes him lose control. It’s intoxicating, this intimacy. This partnership.

“I can’t believe I thought I’d be miserable,” you tell him one morning, wrapped in his arms after a particularly energetic session.

“I can’t believe I almost let you sleep in separate bedrooms for the rest of our lives.”

“What changed your mind?”

“That storm. Holding you.” He pulls you closer. “I couldn’t pretend anymore that I didn’t want this. Want you.”

“I’m glad you stopped pretending.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think we would have found this eventually? If not for the storm?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe we would have stayed strangers forever.” You trace patterns on his chest. “I’m grateful we didn’t have to find out.”

Winter arrives, bringing cold rain and early darkness. Jungwon has been coughing more lately, but you don’t think much of it. Everyone gets sick in winter. But it doesn’t get better.

One morning in late December, you wake to find blood on his handkerchief. “It’s nothing,” he insists when you confront him. “Just a cough.”

“That’s not just a cough.”

“I’ll see the physician if it makes you feel better.” It doesn’t make you feel better. Especially when the physician comes and takes one look at Jungwon and his face goes carefully blank.

“Tuberculosis,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.” The word hits like a physical blow.

“How long?” you ask, because Jungwon seems incapable of speech.

“Impossible to say. Months, perhaps. Maybe a year with rest and good care.” A year. Maybe.

After the physician leaves, you find Jungwon in the library, staring out the window at nothing. “We’ll get through this,” you say, taking his hand.

“Don’t.” His voice is hollow. “Don’t pretend this is something we can fix.”

“I’m not pretending. I’m fighting.”

“There’s nothing to fight.” He turns to look at you, and there are tears on his face. “I’m dying. And I finally—” His voice breaks. “I finally found something worth living for.” You pull him into your arms and let him cry.

The next months are a cruel inversion of your happiness. You care for him as he weakens, watching helplessly as the vibrant man you love fades into someone pale and frail.

He tries to stay strong for you. Jokes when he can manage it, reads to you when he has the breath, makes love to you when his body allows it though you tell him he doesn’t have to.

“I want to,” he insists. “While I still can. While I can still make you feel good.” Those moments are bittersweet. Tender and desperate, both of you trying to memorize every touch, every sound.

By spring, he’s confined to bed most days. You spend hours sitting with him, reading or just holding his hand. One night in April, you open the window to let in the fresh air. The moon is full and bright, hanging low in the sky. “Beautiful,” Jungwon murmurs from the bed.

You return to his side. “The moon?”

“Everything.” He’s looking at you, not the sky. “You’re beautiful. This life we built, however brief. Beautiful.” You take his hand, fighting back tears.

He turns his gaze to the moon, a small smile on his lips. “Do you think the moon remembers us?”

The question is strange, out of place. “What?”

“The moon. Do you think it remembers us? All the people who’ve looked up at it throughout time?”

You don’t understand why he’s asking this, but you answer honestly. “I’d like to think so. That all our stories, all our love, is remembered somewhere.”

“Good.” He squeezes your hand weakly. “Then it will remember this. Remember us. How much I love you.”

“Don’t.” Your voice breaks. “Don’t talk like you’re saying goodbye.”

“I have to.” He’s struggling to breathe now, each word an effort. “Have to tell you. In case… in case there’s something after this.”

“Jungwon—”

“I’ll find you.” He says it with utter conviction. “In the next life, if there is one. I’ll find you. However long it takes.”

Tears are streaming down your face. “Don’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”

You climb into the bed beside him, careful of his fragile body, and hold him as gently as you can. “I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” His breathing is getting shallower. “Thank you. For making me happy. For letting me love you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.” He’s fading, you can feel it. “You saved me. From a life of duty and emptiness. You gave me joy.”

“You gave me the same.”

He smiles, peaceful despite the pain. “Then we’re even.” His eyes close.

“Jungwon?” Panic claws at your throat. “Jungwon, don’t—”

“Just resting,” he murmurs. “So tired.”

“I know. But stay with me. Please stay with me.”

“Always.” His grip on your hand is so weak now. “Every life. Every lifetime. I’ll find you.” Those are the last words he speaks.

He dies as the sun rises, the moon fading into daylight, and you’re left holding an empty shell of the man who taught you what love could be. You don’t leave his side for hours. Can’t bring yourself to let go.

When they finally take him away, you return to the window. The moon is gone now, but you look up at the sky anyway.

“Remember us,” you whisper. “Please remember us.” Somewhere in the vast indifference of the universe, maybe it does.

1912 — Jungwon’s POV

The ship is bigger than anything Jungwon has ever seen. He stands on the dock in Southampton, neck craned back to take in the sheer scale of the RMS Titanic, and feels impossibly small. Four massive funnels reach toward the sky, the hull gleaming white and black in the April sun. Unsinkable, they’re calling it. The ship that even God himself couldn’t sink.

Jungwon doesn’t believe in unsinkable ships, but he believes in new beginnings. America. That’s where this floating palace is headed, and Jungwon along with it. He’s got a third-class ticket, everything he owns in a single worn suitcase, and hopes for a job in New York that might actually pay enough to live on.

England has nothing left for him— no family, no prospects, no future worth staying for. So: America. And the Titanic to get him there.

The third-class gangway is crowded with people like him— immigrants, workers, dreamers. The smell of unwashed bodies and cheap tobacco mingles with salt air. Jungwon shoulders his suitcase and joins the queue, shuffling forward slowly.

“Papers,” the officer barks when Jungwon reaches the front. He hands them over— passport, ticket, health certificate. Everything in order. The officer barely glances at them before waving him through. And then he’s aboard.

The third-class accommodations are exactly what he expected— cramped quarters, narrow bunks stacked three high, thin blankets that smell of mothballs. He’s sharing the cabin with five other men, none of whom speak English. They communicate in gestures and broken phrases, sorting out who gets which bunk. Jungwon ends up with a middle one. It’ll do. It’s only four days to New York.

He leaves his suitcase on the bunk and goes exploring. Third-class passengers aren’t supposed to wander into the upper decks, but the ship is massive and the crew can’t be everywhere. Jungwon has never been good at following rules.

He climbs stairs, follows hallways, nods politely at stewards who eye him suspiciously but don’t actually stop him. The ship is a maze of opulence and machinery— plush carpets giving way to metal floors, crystal chandeliers to bare electric bulbs.

He finds his way to the Boat Deck, where the lifeboats hang in their davits and the ocean stretches endless in every direction. The ship has pulled away from port now, Southampton shrinking behind them. The coast of England is a gray line on the horizon. Goodbye, he thinks. Good riddance.

He’s leaning against the railing, breathing in cold salt air, when he sees her. She’s first class— that much is obvious from the dress alone. Pale blue silk, cinched waist, a hat that probably cost more than his ticket. She’s standing near the stern with a man in an expensive suit, and even from a distance Jungwon can tell she doesn’t want to be there.

Her posture is stiff, uncomfortable. The man— her husband? fiancé?— has his hand possessively on her elbow, gesturing at the horizon like he owns it. She nods along, dutiful and detached.

And then she turns her head, just slightly, and her eyes meet Jungwon’s across the deck. The world stops. It’s not love at first sight— Jungwon doesn’t believe in that. But it’s something. Recognition, maybe, though he’s never seen her before in his life. A pull, deep in his chest, like a hook catching and refusing to let go.

She holds his gaze for three heartbeats. Four. Five. Then the man says something and she looks away, the moment broken. Jungwon should leave. Should go back to third class where he belongs, forget about the beautiful woman in the blue dress. He doesn’t.

He sees her again that evening in the third-class general room. Which is impossible, because first-class passengers don’t come down to third class. Ever. It’s practically a law.

But there she is, hovering in the doorway, looking around with wide eyes at the crowded, noisy space. Someone’s playing an accordion, children are running underfoot, people are drinking and laughing and speaking in a dozen different languages. She looks completely out of place and utterly enchanted. Jungwon makes his way through the crowd toward her.

“Lost?” he asks. She startles, turning to look at him. Up close, she’s even more beautiful— dark eyes, delicate features, a strand of hair escaping from beneath her hat.

“I—” She glances behind her, nervous. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Probably not. Want to stay anyway?”

A smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe. Just for a moment.”

“Come on.” He offers his hand. “I’ll give you the grand tour. It’ll take about thirty seconds.” She laughs and takes his hand.

He shows her the general room, the modest dining area, the stairs leading down to the berths. She asks questions— where is he from, where is he going, what does he hope to find in America. He answers honestly, charmed by her genuine interest. “What about you?” he asks. “What brings you to third class?”

“Curiosity. And…” She hesitates. “Escape, I suppose.”

“From what?”

“A man with too much money and not enough imagination.” She says it lightly, but there’s bitterness underneath. “My fiancé. He thinks he owns me.”

“Does he?”

“Not yet. The wedding isn’t until we reach New York.”

Something cold settles in Jungwon’s stomach. “You don’t want to marry him.”

“No. But I don’t have much choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not for women like me.” She pulls her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself. “I should go. He’ll notice I’m gone.”

“Wait.” Jungwon doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that he can’t let her leave yet. “What’s your name?” She shouldn’t tell him. It’s improper, dangerous even. But she does anyway. And Jungwon commits it to memory like a prayer.

They keep running into each other. Or rather, she keeps finding excuses to slip away from her fiancé and come find Jungwon. It’s reckless and stupid and neither of them can stop.

She comes down to third class when she can, staying for stolen minutes in hallways and quiet corners. They talk about everything— books, dreams, the lives they wish they could have. She tells him about growing up in a gilded cage, groomed from birth to marry well and look pretty. He tells her about growing up with nothing, fighting for every scrap.

“I envy you,” she says one night. They’re on the aft deck, hidden from view behind a lifeboat. It’s late, most passengers asleep. The stars are brilliant overhead.

“Envy me?” Jungwon laughs. “I have nothing.”

“You have freedom. You can go anywhere, be anyone. I’ve never had that.”

“You could. Come to America with me. Really with me, not with him.”

“Don’t.” But she doesn’t move away when he steps closer. “Don’t give me hope for things that can’t happen.”

“Why can’t they?”

“Because I’m engaged. Because he’d ruin you if he found out. Because—” Jungwon kisses her. It’s impulsive and foolish and she should push him away, should slap him, should run back to her fiancé and forget this ever happened. She kisses him back instead.

It’s desperate and messy and perfect. His hands in her hair, her fingers clutching his shirt. Four days they’ve been on this ship and it feels like a lifetime, feels like they’ve known each other forever.

When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard. “Come to my cabin,” he says. “Please.”

“I can’t—”

“I know. But please. Just tonight. Let me have tonight.”

She should say no. She should walk away while she still can. “Yes,” she whispers instead. “Yes.”

His cabin is empty— his bunkmates still in the general room, drinking and playing cards. Jungwon locks the door behind them, and for a moment they just stand there, looking at each other. “We don’t have to,” he says. “If you don’t want—”

“I want.” She’s already working at the buttons of her dress. “Help me?”

His hands shake as he helps her undress, revealing layers of silk and lace and finally, skin. She’s beautiful, all soft curves and pale flesh, and he can’t believe this is real.

She undresses him too, fingers fumbling with buttons and buckles until they’re both bare. The cabin is cramped and cold, but neither of them cares. “Have you—” he starts.

“No. Have you?”

“No.” They laugh, nervous and giddy, and then he’s guiding her to the narrow bunk, covering her body with his.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmurs, kissing her neck.

“You won’t.”

He takes his time, exploring her body with hands and mouth. Learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch into his touch. When he slides his hand between her thighs and finds her wet, she moans. “Jungwon—”

“I know. I’ve got you.”

He strokes her clit, watching her face as pleasure builds. She’s gorgeous like this— flushed and wanting, all artifice stripped away. When she comes apart under his fingers, he feels like he’s witnessing something holy.

“Inside me,” she pants. “Please, I need—”

He positions himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her wetness. “This might hurt,” he warns.

“I don’t care.” He pushes in slowly, feeling her stretch around him. She winces and he freezes.

“Don’t stop,” she grits out. “Keep going.” He does, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside her. The feeling is overwhelming— tight and hot and perfect. He has to hold still for a moment, fighting the urge to move.

“Okay?” he manages.

“Okay. More than okay. Move, please—” He does, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. Finding a rhythm, careful and deep. Her legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Like that, just like that—”

The bunk creaks beneath them, the sound embarrassingly loud in the small cabin. But Jungwon can’t bring himself to care. All that matters is this— her body beneath his, the way she’s looking at him like he’s everything.

“I’m close,” he warns. “I need to—”

“Inside me. Don’t pull out.”

“But—”

“I don’t care. I want to feel you.” That’s all it takes. He buries himself deep and comes with a groan, spilling inside her. The feeling of his cock pulsing, of his release filling her, pushes her over the edge. She comes around him with a cry, her cunt clenching and fluttering. They collapse together in the narrow bunk, sweaty and satisfied and stunned by what just happened. “I love you,” she whispers against his chest.

“I love you too.” He kisses the top of her head. “Come with me. To New York. Leave him and come with me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. We’ll—”

“Shh.” She presses a finger to his lips. “Let’s not think about tomorrow yet. Let’s just have tonight.”

So they do. They make love again, slower this time. Learning each other, memorizing every touch. And afterward, they lie tangled together, talking in whispers about impossible futures.

Through the porthole, the moon hangs low over the water, full and bright. “Look,” she says, pointing. “The moon.”

Jungwon follows her gaze. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do you think the moon remembers us?” she asks suddenly. “All the people who’ve looked up at it throughout time?”

The question is strange, but somehow it doesn’t feel strange. “I don’t know. Why?”

“I just… I want something to remember this. Remember us. In case—” She stops, shaking her head. “Never mind. I’m being foolish.”

“You’re not.” He pulls her closer. “And yes. I think the moon remembers. I think it’s watched a million love stories just like ours.”

“This isn’t a love story. Love stories have happy endings.”

“Ours will too.” He says it with conviction he doesn’t quite feel. “We’ll make it work. We’ll—”

She kisses him, cutting off the words. They make love once more, desperate and clinging, like they’re trying to fight off the dawn.

When she finally leaves, slipping back to first class before sunrise, Jungwon lies in the bunk that still smells like her and tries not to think about losing her.

The next day, April 14th, dawns cold and clear. Jungwon doesn’t see her all morning, all afternoon. He walks the decks, hoping for a glimpse, but third class and first class might as well be different worlds.

By evening, he’s restless and frustrated. He shouldn’t have let her go. Should have convinced her to stay, to run away with him right then.

He’s in the general room after dinner, nursing a beer and trying not to think about her, when the ship shudders. It’s subtle— a grinding sensation, a slight lurch. Most people don’t even notice. But Jungwon feels it in his bones, a wrongness that makes his skin prickle. Around him, the conversation continues. The accordion plays. Children laugh. But something is wrong.

It’s another twenty minutes before the crew starts coming through, telling everyone to put on life belts and head to the Boat Deck. Their voices are calm, almost casual. Just a precaution. Nothing to worry about. Jungwon doesn’t believe them.

He grabs his coat and joins the stream of people heading upstairs. The corridors are crowded, confused. Why are they doing this? It’s freezing outside. The ship is fine. But when Jungwon reaches the deck, he sees the ice. Chunks of it, scattered across the forward deck like broken glass. And the ship— the unsinkable ship— is listing. Tilting forward, just barely, but

Crew members are uncovering lifeboats, their movements quick and efficient. Women and children are being loaded first, separating families, causing chaos. Jungwon scans the crowd frantically, looking for her. There are hundreds of people on deck now, maybe thousands. First class mixing with second and third, all the careful social hierarchies breaking down in the face of disaster.

He pushes through the crowd, searching. She has to be here somewhere. She has to— there. She’s near one of the lifeboats, her fiancé gripping her arm. She’s arguing with him, trying to pull away, and Jungwon’s heart seizes. He fights his way toward her.

“—not getting in without you!” she’s saying, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her fiancé snaps. “The ship is sinking. Get in the boat.”

“I won’t leave you—”

“You will if I tell you to—”

“Let her go.” Jungwon doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s hard, angry, nothing like the gentle tone he used with her last night.

The fiancé turns, sees him, and his face twists with contempt. “Who the hell are you?”

“Someone who actually cares about her. Let. Her. Go.”

“You’re that third-class rat she’s been sneaking off to see.” The fiancé’s grip tightens on her arm and she winces. “I should have known. Guards!”

“Stop it!” She wrenches free, stumbling toward Jungwon. “Stop it, both of you!”

Jungwon catches her, steadying her. Up close, he can see the terror in her eyes. “The ship,” she whispers. “It’s really sinking, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to— we have to—“ She looks around wildly at the chaos, the lifeboats being lowered, the growing tilt of the deck.

“Get on a boat,” Jungwon says. “Now. While there’s still room.”

“Not without you.”

“There’s no room for me. Women and children only.” He cups her face, memorizing her features. “Please. Get on the boat.”

“No. No, I won’t—” Her fiancé grabs her again, and this time he’s stronger, more forceful. He drags her toward the lifeboat despite her struggles.

“Jungwon!” she screams. He tries to follow but a crew member blocks his way.

“Back, sir. Women and children only.”

“That’s my—” But what is she? Not his wife. Not even really his lover, except for one stolen night. “Please, she needs me—”

“Step back or I’ll have you removed.”

Through the crowd, Jungwon watches helplessly as her fiancé forces her into the lifeboat. She’s fighting, crying, calling Jungwon’s name. Their eyes meet across the distance. I love you, he mouths. The lifeboat starts to lower.

“NO!” She’s leaning over the edge, reaching for him. “Jungwon, please! PLEASE!” But the boat drops away, down toward the black water, and she’s gone.

Jungwon stands frozen, watching the lifeboat pull away from the dying ship. She’s safe. That’s what matters. She’s safe.

The Titanic groans beneath his feet, the bow sinking lower. Around him, people are screaming now, the reality of the situation setting in. Not enough boats. Not enough time. He’s going to die here. The thought is strangely calm.

He makes his way to the stern, which is rising now as the bow sinks. The deck is tilting at a dangerous angle, people clinging to railings, crying and praying. Jungwon finds a spot near the back and looks up at the sky. The stars are brilliant, the moon nearly full. Beautiful.

He thinks about last night. Her body beneath his, the way she said his name. The plans they made that will never happen now. “I’ll find you in the next life,” he whispers to the moon, to the stars, to whatever might be listening.

The ship shudders violently. Somewhere below, something breaks with a sound like thunder. The stern is rising higher now, nearly vertical.

People are jumping, falling, screaming as they plummet into the icy water. Jungwon holds on, watching it all with strange detachment.

This is how he dies. Not in a fight, not of old age, but here on a ship that was supposed to be unsinkable, thinking about a woman he knew for four days. The ship breaks. He feels it— the hull splitting, metal screaming as the bow tears away and sinks. The stern bobs for a moment, and Jungwon thinks maybe, maybe—

Then it goes down. The water is so cold it stops his heart. He tries to swim but his limbs won’t cooperate, the freezing temperature shutting down his body piece by piece. Around him, people are screaming, thrashing, dying. He stops fighting.

As the water closes over his head, his last thought is of her. Of dark eyes and soft skin and a single night that felt like forever. I’ll find you, he thinks again. I promise. I’ll find you. The moon watches as he drowns.

In the lifeboat, she’s still screaming his name. Her fiancé tries to restrain her, tries to calm her down, but she’s hysterical. She saw the ship break. Saw it go down. Saw hundreds of people disappear into the black water. Including Jungwon. “He’s gone,” her fiancé says, not unkindly. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”

“No.” She’s shaking her head, denial and grief warring in her chest. “No, he can’t be. He promised. He said—” But she can’t remember what he said. Only that it felt important. That it felt true.

They’re rescued hours later by the Carpathia. She and her fiancé are wrapped in blankets, given hot soup, processed like cargo. She goes through the motions, numb and hollow.

Her fiancé tries to comfort her, tries to pretend the last four days didn’t happen. They’ll still marry when they reach New York, he says. Put this tragedy behind them. Move forward. She nods because she doesn’t have the energy to argue. But she knows the truth. She died on that ship too. The woman she was, the woman Jungwon made her feel like she could be— that woman drowned in the Atlantic. What’s left is just a shell.

On the Carpathia’s deck that night, she looks up at the moon. The same moon that watched them make love, that heard her ask if it would remember.

“Please,” she whispers. “Please remember him. Remember us.” The moon offers no answer. But somewhere, somehow, she thinks it heard.

1996 — Your POV

June 15, 1969 Dear Diary, I hate that I’m starting this like some teenage girl, but Mom gave me this journal and said writing might help. Help with what, I’m not sure. The fear? The waiting? The bone-deep terror that comes with loving someone who’s about to go to war? Jungwon got his draft notice today. He came home from the post office with this look on his face— not surprised, exactly, but resigned. Like he’d been waiting for this moment and now it’s finally here. First son. That’s what the letter said, like that explains everything. Like being born first means you’re obligated to die first too. We’ve been together for two years. Two perfect, beautiful years. We met at a protest, of all places— both of us marching against this stupid war, and now he has to go fight in it. The irony would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking tragic. He leaves in eight weeks. Sixty days. That’s all we have left. I don’t know how to do this. How to count down the days until I lose him. How to smile and be strong when all I want to do is scream. But I’ll try. For him, I’ll try.

You remember the day you met him with perfect clarity. August 1967. Washington D.C. The March on the Pentagon. You’d gone with friends from college, piled into someone’s beat-up Volkswagen van with hand-painted peace signs on the sides. The whole drive down you’d sung protest songs and shared joints and felt like you were part of something important.

The crowd was massive— thousands of people, maybe tens of thousands. You’d never seen anything like it. Everyone young and angry and alive, waving signs and chanting. “Hell no, we won’t go!” “Make love, not war!” The energy was electric.

You’d lost your friends somewhere in the chaos. Didn’t matter— you were swept up in the crowd, moving with the mass of bodies toward the Pentagon. The police were there in riot gear, a wall of shields and batons, and the crowd pressed forward anyway.

That’s when you saw him. He was near the front, dark hair falling in his eyes, wearing a denim jacket covered in pins and patches. He was shouting something at the police line, passionate and fearless, and you thought: I want to know him.

When the police charged, everything descended into chaos. People running, screaming, tear gas filling the air. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Someone grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the worst of it. It was him.

“Come on!” he shouted over the noise, tugging you through the crowd. You ran together, lungs burning, until you were several blocks away. Safe. You collapsed against a building, coughing and laughing and high on adrenaline.

“You okay?” he asked, looking you over with genuine concern.

“I think so. Thank you. For—” You gestured vaguely back toward the chaos.

“Couldn’t leave a fellow revolutionary to get trampled.” He grinned, and it transformed his whole face. “I’m Jungwon.” You told him your name, and he repeated it like he was memorizing it.

You spent the rest of the day together. Found your respective friends eventually, but kept gravitating back to each other. Talking about the war, about politics, about music and books and dreams for a better world. He was smart and funny and so passionate about everything he believed in. By the time you had to leave, you’d given him your number. He called three days later.

Your first date was at a coffee shop in Greenwich Village, the kind of place with poetry readings and folk music and cigarette smoke thick in the air. You talked for six hours straight, until the owner kicked you out at closing.

Your second date was a concert in Central Park. Simon and Garfunkel. You sat on a blanket and he held your hand and you thought you might be falling in love.

Your third date ended in his tiny apartment in the East Village, with his hands in your hair and your legs wrapped around his waist and the certainty that this was it. This was everything.

Two years later, you’ve built a life together. It’s not much— a small apartment, mismatched furniture, more books than shelf space— but it’s yours. You work at a bookstore. He’s in his second year of college, studying literature because he loves it even though his parents think it’s impractical.

You go to protests together, make love to Motown records, cook dinners that are more ambition than skill. You talk about the future— maybe moving to San Francisco, maybe joining a commune, maybe just existing in this little bubble of happiness forever.

And then the draft notice came.

June 20, 1969. We went to the recruitment office today to see if there was any way out of this. Deferment, conscientious objector status, anything. There isn’t. The officer— this smug asshole with a crew cut and a flag pin— looked at Jungwon like he was dirt. Said being a first son means he has a duty to serve. Said if he tries to dodge, they’ll find him. Said a lot of boys would be grateful for the opportunity to serve their country. Jungwon didn’t say anything. Just nodded and took the papers and walked out. I wanted to scream at that officer. Wanted to tell him that this isn’t service, it’s murder. That we’re sending boys to die in a jungle halfway around the world for a war nobody even understands anymore. That Jungwon has already served— served the cause of peace, served humanity by refusing to hate people he’s never met. But I didn’t say anything either. On the way home, Jungwon finally spoke. He said he was scared. That’s all. Just those two words. And then he started crying, right there on the subway, and I held him while strangers pretended not to notice. I’m scared too. Terrified. But I can’t let him see that. Only fifty-two days left.

July 4, 1969 Independence Day. The irony isn’t lost on us. We went to a protest in the park instead of watching fireworks. Smaller crowd than usual— a lot of people are getting tired, I think. Tired of marching and shouting and nothing changing. The war keeps grinding on. Boys keep dying. But we went anyway. Held our signs. Chanted until our throats were raw. Afterward, we walked home through the city. It was late, past midnight, and the streets were mostly empty. Jungwon stopped suddenly and pulled me into an alley. He said he wants to remember this. Us. Me. Before everything changes. And then he kissed me, deep and desperate, and we made love right there against a brick wall. It was reckless and uncomfortable and perfect. When we got home, we stayed up until dawn making love again, slower this time. Memorizing each other. Thirty-eight days.

The countdown is torture. Every morning you wake up and think: one day less. One day closer to losing him.

You try to make the most of the time you have left. You go to all your favorite places— the coffee shop where you had your first date, the record store where you spent hours flipping through albums, the park where you’ve had a hundred picnics. You take pictures, filling up two whole rolls of film. You cook elaborate dinners and stay up late talking about everything and nothing.

And you make love constantly. In your bed, on the couch, in the shower. Sometimes slow and tender, sometimes urgent and desperate. Like you’re trying to fit a lifetime of intimacy into a handful of weeks.

Jungwon is quieter now. More withdrawn. You catch him staring at nothing sometimes, lost in thoughts he won’t share. “Talk to me,” you beg one night after he’s been silent through dinner.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I keep thinking about all the things I’m going to miss. Stupid things, like… the way you hum when you’re cooking. Or how you always steal my coffee even though you have your own. Or the sound of rain on the window when we’re in bed.”

“You’ll come back.” You say it fiercely, like conviction can make it true. “You’ll come back and we’ll have all of that again.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Don’t say that—”

“We have to talk about it.” His voice is gentle but firm. “We have to acknowledge that I might not come home.”

“I can’t.” Tears are streaming down your face now. “I can’t think about that. If I think about that, I’ll fall apart.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you while you sob. “Then don’t think about it. Just… remember that I love you. That I’ll always love you. No matter what happens.”

“I love you too. So much.” You make love that night with tears on both your faces, holding each other like you can physically stop time if you just hold tight enough.

July 28, 1969 Two weeks. That’s all we have left. Jungwon is trying to act normal. Going to classes, seeing friends, pretending like everything is fine. But I see the cracks. The way his hands shake sometimes. The nightmares that wake him up gasping. I asked him last night what he’s afraid of. He said dying but also coming back as someone else. If he comes back at all. I said you don’t die, you’ll come back and you’ll be exactly who you are now. But honestly, I don’t know if that’s true. How could anyone go through war and come back unchanged? We had sex three times today. I’m getting sore but I don’t care. Every time feels like it might be the last time, so we keep reaching for each other. This morning he went down on me for what felt like hours, making me come twice before he even took his cock out. Then he fucked me slow and deep, whispering how much he loves me, how beautiful I am, how he’s going to remember every second of this. I rode him after, taking my time, watching his face as he fell apart beneath me. He came inside me and I thought: let me get pregnant. Let there be some piece of him that stays even if he doesn’t come back. I didn’t say that out loud. It would terrify him. Fourteen days.

August 7, 1969 Five days. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t think about anything except the calendar counting down. We went to Woodstock yesterday. Or tried to— the traffic was so bad we only made it halfway before turning back. But we could hear the music in the distance, see the crowds. It felt important somehow. All these people gathering to celebrate peace and love while the world burns down around us. Tonight we’re staying in. Just the two of us. I don’t want to share him with anyone else. Not now.

You spend the last five days in bed. Not the whole time, obviously— you have to eat, use the bathroom, occasionally answer the door when friends come by to say goodbye. But mostly, you stay in bed. Making love. Talking. Sleeping tangled together. Trying to memorize the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tell me about after,” Jungwon says on the third-to-last night. “When I come back. What are we going to do?”

“Everything.” You trace patterns on his bare chest. “We’re going to do everything we’ve always talked about. Move to California. Live in a commune. Grow our own food. Make art and music and love every single day.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“We’ll get married. Nothing fancy— just us and a few friends and maybe some wildflowers. I’ll wear a white dress and you’ll wear your denim jacket with all the pins.”

He laughs. “Very traditional.”

“We’ll have kids someday. Two or three. We’ll teach them to question everything and fight for what’s right and love fiercely.”

“I want that.” His voice cracks. “I want all of that with you.”

“Then come back to me. Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise I’ll try.” It’s not the same as promising to come back, but it’s all he can give.

You make love again, slow and reverent. He worships your body with his hands and mouth, making you come on his tongue before sliding inside you. You move together in perfect rhythm, years of practice making you instinctively know what the other needs. When you both finish, you lie there in the afterglow, holding each other. “I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too. Come back to me.”

“I will. I swear I will.”

August 11, 1969 Tomorrow. He leaves tomorrow. I don’t know how to write this. Don’t know what to say that won’t sound trite or desperate or completely inadequate. We spent today doing normal things. Had breakfast at our favorite diner. Walked through the park. Went to the record store and bought the new Dylan album even though we can’t really afford it. Tonight we went up to the roof of our building. It’s illegal but no one cares. We brought a blanket and a bottle of wine and lay there looking at the stars. The moon was almost full. So bright I could see every detail of his face. Do you think the moon remembers us? Is what he’d asked me. I didn’t fully understand the question. He continued with how all the people who’ve looked at it, do you think the moons remember them and their stories? I said I didn’t know. He said how he wants it to remember us, remember this moment incase he doesn’t come back. I told him that it will, and I will, how could I forget him? We made love on that roof under the moonlight. It was cold and uncomfortable and the most beautiful thing we’ve ever done. Afterward, lying in his arms, he said it: if he doesn’t make it back that I should know that he’ll find me in the next life, no matter how long it take, no matter the cost. I told him he’s coming back to me in this one. He kissed me instead of arguing. And we made love again, desperate and clinging. We didn’t sleep. Stayed up all night holding each other, watching the moon travel across the sky. He leaves in six hours. I don’t know how to let him go.

The morning is gray and cold, unseasonably cool for August. You help him pack, though there’s not much to take. A small duffel bag with some clothes, toiletries, a few photos. He tucks the pictures carefully into the side pocket— one of the two of you at that first protest, one from a party last year where you’re both laughing at something, one from last week where you’re just looking at each other. “So I don’t forget,” he says quietly.

“You won’t forget.”

“No. But just in case.”

The bus station is crowded with other boys shipping out, their families crying and saying goodbye. You see mothers clutching sons, girlfriends sobbing into boyfriends’ shoulders. Everyone trying to be brave and failing. Jungwon holds you until the very last second. “I love you,” he says into your hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Come back to me.”

“I will. I promise.” He pulls back to look at you, memorizing your face. “Wait for me?”

“Always. Forever. I’ll wait forever if I have to.” One last kiss. Deep and desperate and tasting of salt from tears— yours, his, both. And then he’s boarding the bus with all the other boys in their too-new uniforms, and you’re standing on the platform watching it pull away.

He’s at the window. You can see him pressed against the glass, one hand flat against it like he’s reaching for you. You raise your hand in a wave. And then the bus turns the corner and he’s gone. You stand there for a long time after, staring at the empty street.

Someone touches your shoulder— another girl who just said goodbye to her boyfriend. She’s crying too. “They’ll come back,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “They have to come back.” You nod because you can’t speak. But you’re not sure you believe it.

August 15, 1969 I’m at Woodstock. Finally made it. I came alone. Couldn’t stand being in the apartment without him. Everything there reminds me of Jungwon— his books still on the shelf, his jacket hanging by the door, the sheets that still smell like him. The festival is chaos. Mud everywhere, people as far as I can see, music blasting from the stage. It’s overwhelming and beautiful and exactly what I need. I’m not really here, though. Part of me is still on that bus station platform. Part of me is wherever Jungwon is right now— boot camp, probably. Learning how to kill people. I hate this. I hate all of it. But I’m here, in the mud and the music, because he would want me to be. Because this is what we believe in— peace, love, community. All the things we’re trying to build while the government tears them down. I’m going to survive this. I’m going to wait for him, and when he comes home, we’re going to build the life we talked about. I have to believe that.

September 3, 1969 First letter from Jungwon arrived today. I was so excited I almost ripped it opening the envelope. ‘My love, Boot camp is hell. They wake us up at 4 AM and work us until we drop. Everything is shouting and pushups and running until I want to puke. They’re trying to break us down, turn us into soldiers. Turn us into killers. I don’t know if I can do this. But I think about you every night. About your smile, your laugh, the way you look when you first wake up. About making love on our roof under the moon. Those memories are the only thing keeping me sane. I miss you so much it physically hurts. Miss your voice, your touch, the way you steal my coffee. Miss everything. I’ll write as often as I can. Tell me about your life. What you’re reading, where you’re going, who you’re seeing. I need to know that the world I’m fighting for (even though I don’t believe in this war) still exists. I love you. More than words can say. Forever yours, Jungwon’ I read it five times. Then I went into the bedroom and cried into his pillow.

September 20, 1969 I’m writing letters every day. Sometimes twice a day. I tell him about everything— the bookstore, protests I go to, albums I buy, books I read. Stupid mundane things that probably bore him, but he asked for them so I write. His letters come sporadically. Sometimes I get three in one week, sometimes nothing for two weeks. When they arrive, I devour them. He’s trying to stay positive, I can tell. But I read between the lines. The exhaustion. The fear. The slow erosion of the person he was. He finishes boot camp next month. Then he ships out. To Vietnam. I can’t think about it. If I think about it, I’ll lose my mind.

October 12, 1969 He called today. Five minutes on a pay phone before shipping out. His voice sounded different. Harder. Older. He told me he loves me, and that no matter what happens I need to remember that. I said I love him too and to be safe, to please be safe. And then the line went dead. That was eight hours ago and I can’t stop crying.

October 30, 1969 Letter from Vietnam. ‘My love, I’m here. In the jungle. In the war. I can’t tell you where exactly (they censor that) or what we’re doing (they censor that too). I can tell you it’s hot and wet and everything smells like rot and fear. I can tell you I think about you constantly. That your letters are the only good thing in this place. That I keep your photo in my pocket over my heart. I can tell you I’m terrified. Not of dying— though I am scared of that— but of becoming someone you won’t recognize when I come home. If I come home. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t write things like that. You need hope, not my fear. I love you. I love you. I love you. Stay safe. Live your life. Don’t put it on hold waiting for me. All my love, Jungwon’ I wrote back immediately: My love, I will always wait for you. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what you’ve seen or done or become. You’re mine and I’m yours and nothing changes that. Come home to me. All my love, forever.

The letters continue. Back and forth across an ocean, across a war. Sometimes they’re full of mundane details— what he ate, what you did that day. Sometimes they’re deeper— fears, hopes, dreams for the future. You live for those letters. They’re proof he’s still alive, still him, still yours.

November 15, 1969 Haven’t heard from him in three weeks. I tell myself it’s fine. Mail is slow. He’s busy. He’s in the jungle where there’s no way to send letters. But the silence is deafening.

December 1, 1969 Five weeks now. I called his parents. They haven’t heard anything either. I’m trying not to panic.

December 10, 1969 Letter arrived today. Thank god. Thank god. ‘My love, I’m sorry for the silence. We were in the field— weeks in the jungle, no communication with the outside world. I wrote you letters every night but couldn’t send them. I’ll mail them all now so you’ll get a flood at once. I saw combat. Real combat. I can’t describe it. Won’t describe it. Just know that I’m okay. Physically okay, at least. The guys in my unit are good men. We take care of each other. That helps. I miss you so much I dream about you every night. Dream about being home, about holding you, about a life where there’s no war. Soon. I’ll be home soon. I love you endlessly, Jungwon’ Six more letters arrived over the next week. All written in the jungle, some barely legible, all filled with love and longing. I’m holding onto them like lifelines.

January 1, 1970 New year. New decade. I spent it alone in our apartment, drinking cheap wine and reading his letters. This year, he comes home. He has to.

The months blur together. Winter turns to spring. Letters arrive sporadically, sometimes cheerful, sometimes dark. You write back religiously, filling page after page with your life, your love, your hope.

You go to protests but your heart’s not in it anymore. You work at the bookstore. You see friends. You exist in a state of suspended animation, waiting.

The nightmares start in March. You dream of jungles and gunfire and blood. You dream of Jungwon dying in a thousand different ways. You wake up screaming, reaching for him, finding only empty sheets. You stop sleeping well.

April 20, 1970 Eight months since he left. I saw a news report today about casualties. The numbers are staggering. Thousands dead. Thousands more wounded. I couldn’t watch. His last letter said his unit was moving to a new position. He couldn’t say where. Couldn’t say what they’d be doing. I haven’t heard from him since. It’s been two weeks.

May 5, 1970 Three weeks. I’m trying not to think about what that might mean.

May 12, 1970 Four weeks. I called his parents again. Still nothing. I’m losing my mind.

May 20, 1970 Letter arrived today. But it’s not from him. It’s from his commanding officer. ‘Dear Miss, It is my duty to inform you that Private Yang Jungwon was killed in action on April 28, 1970, during combat operations in [REDACTED]. Private Yang died bravely, serving his country with honor. He was well-liked by his unit and will be deeply missed. Please accept my sincerest condolences for your loss. Respectfully, Captain Haruma, United States Army’ I don’t remember the rest of that day. I don’t remember screaming. Don’t remember collapsing. Don’t remember the neighbors breaking down the door because they heard me and thought someone was being murdered. I remember waking up in a hospital. Sedated. Numb. I remember his mother crying on the phone saying that he’s coming home. But he’s not coming home. Not really. Just a body in a box.

May 25, 1970 They buried him today. Military funeral. Flag-draped coffin. Gun salute. The whole terrible ceremony. I couldn’t look at the coffin. Couldn’t accept that he was in there. That the man I loved, love— vibrant and alive and so full of passion— was reduced to a body in a box in the ground. They gave me the flag. Folded into a perfect triangle. I wanted to scream at them. Wanted to throw the flag back in their faces and demand they give me Jungwon instead. But I just stood there, numb, while they lowered him into the ground. After, I went home and found a letter. Tucked into my mailbox. From him. Dated April 27. The day before he died. ‘My love, If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I wrote this just in case. Just in case the worst happens and I don’t get to say goodbye. First: I love you. I love you more than I knew it was possible to love another person. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. The brightest light in my life. Every moment with you was a gift. Second: This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. Don’t torture yourself with what-ifs. We had no control over this. Third: Live. Please, live your life. Don’t spend it mourning me. Find love again if you can. Be happy. Make art. Change the world. Do all the things we talked about doing together. And finally: I’ll find you in the next life. I don’t know if there is a next life, but if there is, I’ll find you. I’ll find you in every lifetime. This isn’t the end. It can’t be. I love you forever, Jungwon P.S. - Remember the moon? How I asked if it remembers us? I hope it does. I hope something in this universe remembers that we existed, that we loved each other. That our love was real and true and worth something, even if it was brief.’

I can’t write anymore. Can’t see through the tears. He’s gone. The love of my life is gone. And I don’t know how to survive this.

The journal entries stop after that. The pages remain blank for months, then years. You keep the journal, but you can’t bring yourself to write in it. Can’t put into words the emptiness, the grief that never quite fades.

You do what he asked. You live. You finish school, get a job, move to San Francisco like you always planned. You go to protests, make art, try to change the world in small ways. You even date again, eventually. Nice men who try to understand why you sometimes go quiet and distant, why you can’t quite let them all the way in. None of them are him.

On the anniversary of his death, you go to the cemetery. Place flowers on his grave. Tell him about your year. “I’m trying,” you whisper to the headstone. “I’m trying to live like you asked. But god, I miss you. Every single day, I miss you.”

The wind rustles the leaves overhead. The sun shines. The world keeps turning. And you keep living. Because that’s what he wanted.

But part of you— the best part— died in a jungle halfway around the world on April 28, 1970. And you’ll never get it back.

2001 — Your POV

September 11, 8:32 AM

Jungwon kisses you goodbye at the elevator, quick and chaste because you’re at work and even though everyone knows you’re married, PDA in the office is frowned upon. “See you at lunch?” you ask, adjusting his tie even though it’s perfectly straight. It’s just an excuse to touch him.

“Can’t. Meeting with the Lehman team goes until two.”

“Dinner then. I’ll cook.”

He grins. “You mean you’ll order takeout and pretend you cooked.”

“I resent that. I’m an excellent chef.”

“You burned water last week.”

“That was one time!” You swat his arm, laughing. “Okay, fine. I’ll order from that Thai place you like.”

“Perfect.” He kisses you again, properly this time, not caring who sees. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Don’t work too hard.” The elevator dings and you step inside, waving as the doors close. Jungwon watches you disappear, then heads back to his desk on the 101st floor of the North Tower.

You and Jungwon have been married for three years, together for five. You met at Cantor Fitzgerald— both of you ambitious young traders trying to make a name for yourselves in the cutthroat world of finance.

The attraction was immediate. The love took a bit longer, but not much. He proposed after a year and a half, on the roof of your apartment building under a full moon. You were married three months later in a small ceremony in Central Park, just family and close friends.

Working together has its challenges— you’re competitive by nature, and sometimes that bleeds into your relationship. But mostly it’s good. You understand the demands of each other’s jobs. You can decompress together about difficult clients. You commute together, have lunch together when schedules allow, go home together. Your entire lives are intertwined. You love it.

You step out of the elevator on the 96th floor— your department is a few floors below his— and head to your desk. The morning is already chaotic, phones ringing, traders shouting, the energy that makes you love this job. You’re reviewing overnight reports when your phone rings. “Trading desk.”

“Mrs. Yang, it’s David from IT. We’re having some issues with your workstation remotely. Would you mind coming down to the 78th floor so we can take a look?”

You glance at your computer. It seems fine, but IT knows better than you. “Sure. Give me five minutes?”

“Perfect. Thanks.” You grab your phone and ID badge, tell your supervisor you’ll be back in fifteen, and head for the elevators.

The elevator ride down takes less than a minute. You step out onto the 78th floor— it’s quieter here, mostly administrative offices and IT. David meets you in the lobby. “Thanks for coming down. This should only take a minute. Just need to check something in the server room.”

You follow him down the hall, chatting about weekend plans, completely unaware that you have eight minutes left in the world as you know it.

8:46 AM

Jungwon is on a conference call when the building shakes. No— not shakes. Lurches. Like the entire structure has been hit by something massive. The lights flicker. Someone screams. The windows on the north side explode inward in a spray of glass and fire.

The conference call drops. Alarms start blaring. People are shouting, running, diving under desks. Jungwon’s brain struggles to catch up. What the hell just happened?

“Everyone stay calm!” His manager is shouting to be heard over the chaos. “Proceed to the stairwells! Don’t use the elevators!”

Jungwon grabs his phone and jacket on autopilot, joining the stream of people heading for the stairs. The office is in chaos— papers everywhere, computers sparked and smoking, the smell of jet fuel and burning. Jet fuel. Oh god.

He dials your number as he’s moving, pressed against a hundred other bodies trying to evacuate. It rings once. Twice. Three times. “Jungwon?” You sound confused. “What’s happening? We felt something down here—”

“Where are you?” His voice is urgent. “What floor?”

“78th. I’m with IT, they needed to—”

“Get out. Right now. Don’t go back to your desk, don’t grab anything, just get to the stairs and get out of the building.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Something hit the building. High up. There’s fire and—” He’s being pushed into the stairwell now, the crowd surging around him. “Just get out. Please.”

“I will. Where are you?”

“101st floor. I’m in the stairwell. I’m coming down.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll meet you outside.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.” The line cuts out as he enters the stairwell. No signal.

The descent is a nightmare. Hundreds of people packed into a narrow concrete shaft, everyone trying to move at once. It’s hot and dark and the smoke is getting thicker with every floor.

Jungwon tries to stay calm. Tries to breathe through his shirt. Tries not to think about what happened, about the fire above him, about the fact that he’s 101 floors up and the only way out is down. He tries your number again when he hits the 95th floor and gets signal for a moment. No answer. Again at the 90th floor. No answer.

The stairwell is moving so slowly. People are crying, praying, helping those who can’t move as fast. The woman in front of Jungwon is heavily pregnant and struggling. He helps support her weight as they descend. “My baby,” she keeps saying. “I can’t—my baby—”

“You’re going to be fine,” Jungwon tells her. “We’re all going to be fine. Just keep moving.” He doesn’t know if he believes it.

At the 85th floor, his phone rings.“Jungwon!” You’re crying. “Oh god, Jungwon—”

“I’m here. I’m okay. Where are you?”

“I’m outside. I got out. But Jungwon, they’re saying—” Your voice breaks. “They’re saying a plane hit the building. A passenger plane. It flew right into the tower.”

His blood runs cold. “What?”

“It’s on the news. It’s everywhere. And—” You’re sobbing now. “Another plane just hit the South Tower. Jungwon, this isn’t an accident. This is—”

“I know. I know. Listen to me—I need you to get away from here. As far away as you can. Go to Brooklyn. Go to your sister’s. Just get away from Manhattan.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“You have to—”

“NO.” Your voice is fierce through the tears. “I’m not leaving you. I’m staying right here until you come out.”

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t. Don’t ask me to leave you. I won’t do it.” He wants to argue but he knows it’s pointless. You’re the most stubborn person he’s ever met. It’s one of the things he loves about you.

“Okay. Okay. I’m at the 85th floor. I’m coming down as fast as I can.”

“How fast is that?”

“Slow. There’s a lot of people. But I’m moving. I’m going to make it out.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” He stays on the phone with you as he descends. 80th floor. 75th. 70th. You talk to him the whole time. Telling him about what you’re seeing outside— the smoke, the emergency responders, the crowds. Telling him you love him. Begging him to hurry.

“I’m trying,” he says. “I’m trying.”65th floor. The building shudders. Different from before. More structural. The stairwell sways and people scream.

“What was that?” You sound terrified. “Jungwon, what was that?”

“I don’t know. The building just— it felt wrong.”

“You need to move faster.”

“I am. We all are. It’s just— there’s so many people—” 60th floor. The smoke is getting worse. People are coughing, struggling to breathe. Some are collapsing. Other people are helping them, but it’s slowing everything down.

Jungwon’s legs are burning. His lungs hurt. But he keeps moving. “Talk to me,” he says to you. “Tell me about something good. Distract me.”

“Like what?”

“Anything. Our honeymoon. Our first date. Anything that isn’t this.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and when you speak, your voice is steadier. “Remember our honeymoon? In Italy, that night in Venice? We got lost trying to find the hotel and ended up at that little square with the fountain?” He does remember. The moon reflecting off the water. Your hand in his. The way the whole city felt like a dream.

“And you asked me if I thought the moon remembered us,” you continue. “All the lovers who’d stood in that square over the centuries.”

“Did I say that?”

“You did. You said you wanted the moon to remember us. To remember our love story.”

55th floor. Jungwon is crying now, though he’s not sure when that started. “I still want that.”

“It will. The moon will remember us. I know it will.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If I don’t make it—”

“Don’t say that—”

“Listen. Please. If I don’t make it, I need you to promise me you’ll keep living. You’ll find happiness again. You won’t spend the rest of your life mourning me.”

“Jungwon—”

“Promise me.”

“I can’t. I can’t promise that. You’re my whole life. You’re everything.”

“Then promise me you’ll try. That you’ll at least try.”

You’re sobbing. “Okay. Okay, I promise. But you ARE going to make it. You have to make it.”

50th floor. He’s halfway. He’s actually halfway. Maybe he will make it out. “I love you,” he says. “More than anything in this world. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too. So much. So much.”

45th floor. The woman in front of him collapses. Jungwon and another man help her up, support her weight between them. She’s gasping for air, barely conscious. “Keep going,” Jungwon tells her. “We’re almost there.” 40th floor.

“I’m at 40,” he tells you. “Less than halfway now.”

“You’re doing so good. You’re almost out.”

“How’s it look out there?”

“Bad. Both towers are burning. There’s debris everywhere. But the firefighters are here. They’re going in to help people.”

“Good. That’s good.” 35th floor.

His phone is dying. Battery at 15%. “My phone’s almost dead,” he tells you.

“No. No, you have to keep talking to me.”

“I will. As long as I can. But if we get cut off—”

“We won’t.”

“But if we do, I need you to know—”

“I already know. I know you love me. I know we’re going to grow old together. I know we’re going to have babies and a house in the suburbs and a dog. I know all of it because you promised me.”

“I did promise you that.”

“So you have to keep that promise. You have to get out of there and come home to me.”

30th floor. Battery at 10%. “Do you remember our wedding vows?” he asks. “I meant every word. Every promise. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“Me too.”

25th floor. “I can see the end,” he says. “I can actually see the bottom of the stairwell. Maybe ten more floors.”

“Oh thank god. Thank god.”

20th floor. Battery at 5%. The building shudders again. Violently this time. The stairwell groans.

“Jungwon? JUNGWON?”

“I’m here. I’m still here. Something’s wrong. The building—it doesn’t feel stable.”

“You need to run. Right now. Run as fast as you can.”

“I am. We all are.”

15th floor. The lights go out. Emergency lighting kicks in, bathing everything in red. People are screaming, pushing, panicking.

“Stay calm!” Someone is shouting. “Everyone stay calm!” But no one is calm. Everyone can feel it— the building is dying. 10th floor.

“I’m at ten,” Jungwon gasps into the phone. “Almost there. Almost—” The building lurches. Metal screaming. Concrete cracking.

“JUNGWON!”

“I’m okay. I’m still moving. Five more floors.”

5th floor. “I can see the lobby. I can see the exit. I’m going to make it. I’m actually going to make it.”

“Run. Don’t stop. Just run.” He does. The last few floors are a blur— feet pounding stairs, people streaming into the lobby, firefighters directing everyone outside.

Jungwon bursts out onto the street and the sight is apocalyptic. Both towers burning. Debris everywhere. Ash falling like snow. But he’s out. He’s alive. “I’m outside,” he gasps into the phone. “I made it. I’m out.”

“Where? Where are you?”

“West side, I think. Near—” The sound drowns out everything else. A roar like the end of the world. Jungwon turns and looks up. The South Tower is collapsing. “Oh my god,” he breathes.

“What? What’s happening?”

“The South Tower. It’s— it’s coming down.”

And then the cloud hits. Debris and dust and smoke racing down the street like a tsunami. People screaming, running, diving into buildings. Jungwon runs.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, just away from the cloud, away from the collapse. His phone is still clutched in his hand, your voice tinny and distant.“Jungwon! JUNGWON!”

“I’m here! I’m still here!” He ducks into a building— a store, doors standing open. The cloud follows him in, filling the space with choking dust.

He can’t see. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything except hold the phone and hope. And then, gradually, the worst passes. He’s alive. Covered in dust, coughing up gray ash, but alive. “I’m okay,” he says into the phone. “I’m okay. The South Tower collapsed but I’m okay.”

“Oh thank god. Thank god. Where are you?”

“I don’t know. Some store. I can’t see anything. There’s dust everywhere.”

“Stay there. Stay inside until the dust clears. I’m coming to find you.”

“No. Don’t. It’s not safe.”

“I don’t care. Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t KNOW where I am—” His phone dies. “No. No no no—” He tries to turn it back on but it’s dead. Completely dead. He has no way to reach you. No way to tell you he’s alive. All he can do is wait for the dust to clear and try to find you.

You’re running. Your phone went dead ten seconds after his did, and now you’re sprinting through the chaos toward where you last heard him— west side of the North Tower. The South Tower is gone. Just gone. A pile of rubble and smoke where a building used to be.

And the North Tower is still burning. Jungwon’s tower. He made it out. He told you he made it out. He’s alive somewhere in this nightmare and you’re going to find him.

You’re pushing through crowds, screaming his name, looking for his face in a sea of ash-covered people who all look the same. “JUNGWON!” No answer. “JUNGWON!” The dust is thick. You can barely see ten feet ahead. But you keep moving, keep searching.

You’re maybe three blocks from the tower when you hear it. That sound again. Metal and concrete and the world ending. You look up. The North Tower is collapsing. “No,” you whisper. And then you’re screaming. “JUNGWON! JUNGWON!”

The tower comes down in a cascade of destruction, floor after floor pancaking, the cloud of debris exploding outward. You’re too far away. The cloud won’t reach you here. You’re safe. But Jungwon. He said he was on the west side. Near the tower. He was right there.

“No. No no no no no—” You’re calling his phone but it’s going straight to voicemail. Again and again and again. “JUNGWON! PLEASE! JUNGWON!”

People are grabbing you, trying to pull you back, away from the disaster. You fight them. “My husband! My husband was there! I need to— I have to—”

But there’s nowhere to go. The entire area where the towers stood is gone. Just smoke and rubble and death. You collapse on the pavement, screaming into your dead phone. He was right there. He made it out and he was right there and now— now the building is gone. And so is he.

They find Jungwon’s body three days later. He’d made it out of the building. Made it almost two blocks away. But when the tower collapsed, the debris cloud caught him. A piece of falling concrete, the medical examiner says. He died instantly. You identify him at the morgue. His face is peaceful, covered in dust. Like he’s sleeping. You don’t cry. You can’t. You’re too empty.

At the funeral, they play the voicemail you left him after the towers fell. The one where you’re screaming into the phone, begging him to answer, telling him you love him. You don’t remember leaving it.

You don’t remember much of anything from those first few days. The city buries thousands. You bury your husband. And then you have to figure out how to keep living.

Ten years pass. You never remarry. Never even date. How could you? Jungwon was your whole life. Your whole heart. You move out of New York. Can’t stand to be in the city where you lost him. You end up in a small town in Vermont, working at a library, living a quiet life.

Every year on September 11th, you visit the memorial. Stand at the reflecting pool where the North Tower used to be, looking at his name etched in bronze. YANG JUNGWON. You trace the letters with your fingers and remember.

Remember his laugh. His smile. The way he kissed you goodbye that last morning. Remember the phone call. His voice getting weaker as he descended. The way he said “I love you” one last time before his phone died. Remember standing in the street, watching the tower collapse, knowing he was gone.

At night, you look at the moon and think about what he said. About the moon remembering love stories. “Do you remember us?” you whisper to the sky.

The moon doesn’t answer. But you hope it does. Hope that somewhere in the universe, someone remembers that you loved him. That he loved you. That what you had was real and beautiful and worth something, even though it ended too soon.

You survive twenty more years. Never stop missing him. Never stop loving him. When you die at 65— heart attack, quick and painless— your last thought is of him. I’m coming, you think. Finally, I’m coming to find you. And maybe, somewhere, the moon remembers.

2026 — split POV

Jungwons POV

Jungwon is running late. He overslept— stayed up too late studying for his anatomy exam, his alarm didn’t go off, and now he’s sprinting across campus with his backpack half-open and his shirt probably on inside out.

Pre-med is killing him. Everyone said it would be hard, but no one mentioned it would be “survive on three hours of sleep and questionable dining hall coffee” hard. He rounds the corner by the library at a full run, checking his phone to see just how late he is to his 9 AM lecture—

And crashes directly into someone. The impact is total. Books go flying. Papers scatter. And Jungwon’s coffee— his precious, desperately-needed coffee— explodes all over the person he just barreled into. “Oh my god,” he gasps, stumbling back. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—” He looks up and his brain short-circuits.

It’s a girl. A beautiful girl in a white shirt that is now completely drenched in his coffee. Dark hair falling around her face, wide eyes, an expression of pure shock. And the second their eyes meet, something in Jungwon’s chest cracks open. He knows her.

He doesn’t know her— he’s never seen her before in his life— but he knows her. Knows her the way he knows his own heartbeat. Knows her in a way that makes no logical sense but feels more real than anything he’s ever experienced. “I—” His voice doesn’t work. He tries again. “I’m so sorry. Your shirt—”

She’s just staring at him. Not angry, not upset. Just staring like she’s seeing a ghost. “It’s okay,” she says finally, but her voice is shaky. “It’s fine. I just—”

They’re both still frozen, standing in the middle of the path while other students flow around them. Jungwon forces himself to move. He shrugs out of his hoodie— thankfully he’s wearing a t-shirt underneath— and holds it out to her. “Here. Please. I’m so sorry. Take this.”

She looks at the hoodie, then back at him. “I can’t—”

“Please. I ruined your shirt. It’s the least I can do.” Slowly, she takes it. Their fingers brush and Jungwon feels electricity shoot up his arm. What the hell is happening?

She pulls on the hoodie— it’s too big on her, sleeves hanging past her hands— and something about seeing her in his clothes makes his heart do a weird flip. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I’m— uh. I have a class. I should—”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” He’s already pulling out his phone. “Can I get your number? So I can pay for dry cleaning. Or replace the shirt. Or—”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Please. I feel terrible.”She hesitates, then rattles off her number. He types it in with shaking hands. “I’m Jungwon, by the way.”

“I know.” Then her eyes widen. “I mean— I don’t know. You just— you look like a Jungwon.”

That doesn’t make any sense, but he smiles anyway. “And you are?”She tells him her name, and Jungwon commits it to memory like a prayer.

“I really am sorry,” he says again. “About the coffee.”

“It’s okay. Really.” She’s backing away now, but she keeps looking at him. Like she can’t quite make herself leave. “I should go. I’m late.”

“Me too. But—” He doesn’t want her to go. Can’t explain why, but the thought of her walking away makes him feel panicky. “Can I text you? About the shirt?”

“Sure. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll— I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” She finally turns and walks away, and Jungwon stands there watching her go, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t explain. He’s never believed in love at first sight. Thought it was bullshit, something made up for movies and romance novels. But something just happened. Something big and important and completely inexplicable.

He doesn’t know what. But he knows, with absolute certainty, that he just met someone who’s going to change his life.

Your POV

You make it to class five minutes late, wearing a stranger’s hoodie, your heart racing. What the hell was that? You’ve never believed in fate or destiny or any of that romantic nonsense. You’re a history major, you deal in facts and evidence and things that can be proven.

But when you locked eyes with that boy— Jungwon— something shifted in the universe. You knew him. Know him. Even though you’ve never seen him before in your life. And the way he looked at you— like he knew you too. Like he’d been waiting for you.

You slide into your seat in the lecture hall and your best friend Mina immediately notices the hoodie. “Whose is that?” she whispers.

“Some guy’s. He spilled coffee on me.”

“And gave you his hoodie? That’s very chivalrous. Is he cute?”

You think about dark eyes and messy hair and the way his hands shook when he typed your number into his phone. “Yeah,” you admit. “Really cute.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Your phone buzzes. Unknown number: Hi, this is Jungwon. The coffee disaster guy. Just wanted to make sure I got your number right. And to apologize again. I really am sorry about your shirt.

You smile despite yourself and type back: It’s fine. Really. The hoodie is very comfortable.

Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.

Your heart does a stupid flutter: I should probably return it at some point.

How about tomorrow? I could buy you coffee. To replace the shirt.

You shouldn’t. You don’t know this guy. He could be anyone. But you’re already typing back: Tomorrow sounds good.

Perfect. I’ll text you details. And again— really sorry.

Stop apologizing. It was an accident.

Still feel bad.

Don’t. I’m fine. Great, even. I got a free hoodie out of it.

Ha. Fair point. See you tomorrow?

See you tomorrow.

You put your phone away and try to focus on the lecture. But all you can think about is tomorrow. About seeing him again. About why the thought of it makes you feel like you’re coming home.

Jungwon’s POV

Jungwon changes his outfit three times before leaving his dorm. “You’re being ridiculous,” his roommate Jake says, sprawled on his bed playing video games. “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s not just coffee.”

“It’s literally just coffee. You’re meeting a girl you spilled coffee on to buy her coffee to apologize for the coffee. It’s coffee inception.”

“Shut up.”

Jake grins. “You like her.”

“I don’t know her.”

“But you like her.”

Jungwon doesn’t answer because the truth is yes, he does like her. Has been thinking about her non-stop since yesterday. Can’t explain it, can’t rationalize it, but it’s true. He settles on jeans and a simple black shirt, checks his hair one more time, and heads out.

They agreed to meet at the campus coffee shop— ironic, given the circumstances— at 2 PM. Jungwon arrives ten minutes early and immediately regrets it because now he has to stand around looking awkward.

He’s checking his phone for the third time when he sees her walking up. She’s wearing casual clothes— jeans and a sweater— and she’s carrying his hoodie, neatly folded. Her hair is down today, falling past her shoulders, and Jungwon’s brain goes momentarily offline. “Hi,” she says, smiling.

“Hi.” He sounds like an idiot. “You came.”

“I said I would.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Get it together, Yang. “Should we go in?”

They order coffee— she gets a vanilla latte, he gets an americano— and find a table by the window. For a moment, they just sit there, both suddenly shy. “So,” you say finally. “Pre-med, right? I saw your anatomy textbook when you dropped everything.”

“Yeah. First year. It’s brutal.”

“I can imagine. I’m history. Much less brutal.”

“History’s cool. What kind of history?”

“All kinds. But I’m focusing on American history right now. Specifically the 20th century.”

Something flickers in Jungwon’s chest at that. He doesn’t know why. “That’s really interesting,” he says. “Any particular reason?”

You shrug. “I like understanding how we got here. How the past shapes the present. Plus the 20th century was just… a lot. Wars, social movements, technological revolution. It’s fascinating.”

“Do you think the past matters? Like, do you think we’re shaped by history or do we shape ourselves?” The question comes out more philosophical than he intended, but you don’t seem to mind.

“Both, probably. We’re products of our time, but we also have agency. We can make choices that change the trajectory.” You pause. “Why? Do you think the past matters?”

“I think…” He’s not sure how to articulate this. “I think sometimes the past isn’t really past. I think sometimes it echoes forward. Into the present.”

You’re looking at him with this intense focus, like he’s said something profound instead of just vaguely poetic nonsense. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I think that too.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You talk about classes, about campus life, about your respective hometowns. Jungwon tells you about wanting to be a doctor since he was a kid, about the pressure from his parents but also his genuine love for medicine. You tell him about your love of research, about wanting to be a professor someday, maybe write books.

Two hours pass without either of you noticing. “I should probably go,” you say reluctantly, checking your phone. “I have a study group at five.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Jungwon stands when you do, not ready for this to end. “Can I walk you?”

“Sure.” You walk across campus together, the conversation never stopping. It’s easy with you. Comfortable. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

When you reach your building, you turn to face him. “Thanks for the coffee. And for not being a serial killer.”

He laughs. “Thanks for giving a clumsy pre-med student a chance to apologize.”

“It was a good apology.” There’s a moment where you’re just looking at each other, and Jungwon feels that pull again. That inexplicable sense of knowing you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks. “Not as an apology. Just… because I want to.”

You smile. “I’d like that.”

“Friday? There’s a film festival on campus. Foreign films. Probably boring to most people but—”

“I love foreign films.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

His heart is going to beat out of his chest. “It’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He walks away grinning like an idiot, and when he checks his phone later, there’s a text from you: Had fun today. See you Friday :)

He stares at the smiley face for an embarrassingly long time before responding: Me too. Can’t wait. And he means it. He genuinely can’t wait to see you again. Which is crazy. He barely knows you. But it doesn’t feel like barely knowing you. It feels like coming home.

Your POV

You and Jungwon are dating. It’s not official-official— you haven’t had the “what are we” conversation— but you’re together constantly. Study dates that turn into actual dates. Late-night conversations that stretch until 3 AM. Stolen kisses between classes. It’s fast. You know it’s fast. Mina keeps asking if you’re sure about this, if you’re not rushing into things. But it doesn’t feel fast. It feels exactly right.

You learn things about him: that he’s terrible at cooking but makes excellent coffee. That he stress-cleans before exams. That he has nightmares sometimes and won’t talk about them. That he looks at the moon when he’s thinking.

He learns things about you: that you hum when you’re concentrating. That you steal his coffee even though you have your own. That you’re afraid of thunderstorms. That you’ve always felt like you’re searching for something you can’t name.

Tonight, you’re in his dorm room— Jake is conveniently gone for the weekend— sprawled on his bed while he attempts to study for biochemistry. “This is impossible,” he groans, throwing his highlighter at the textbook. “Why do I need to know the Krebs cycle? When will I ever use this as a doctor?”

“When you’re explaining cellular respiration to a patient, obviously.”

“That will definitely happen. Constantly.” You laugh and roll onto your stomach, watching him.

He’s wearing glasses tonight— he usually wears contacts but he ran out— and they make him look unfairly adorable. “You’re staring,” he says without looking up from his notes.

“You’re pretty.”

“I’m not pretty. I’m ruggedly handsome.”

“You’re pretty.”

He looks up, grinning, and tackles you onto the bed. You shriek with laughter as he pins you down, his weight warm and solid above you. “Take it back,” he demands.

“Never. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Terrible. The worst.” But he’s smiling as he says it, and then he’s kissing you, and your brain shuts off. You’ve kissed before— many times over the past six weeks— but it still feels new every time. Still makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

His hand slides under your shirt, fingers skimming your ribs, and you arch into the touch. “Is this okay?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah. Yes. More than okay.”

Things heat up quickly after that. Clothes coming off, hands exploring, breathless whispers in the dark. You’ve fooled around before— heavy petting, getting each other off— but you haven’t gone all the way yet. Tonight feels different. “Do you want to?” Jungwon asks, pulling back to look at you. “We don’t have to. There’s no pressure. I just—”

“I want to.” You cup his face. “I want you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He kisses you deeply and reaches for his nightstand, pulling out a condom. “I’ve, uh. I’ve never actually done this before.”

“Me neither.”

“So we’ll figure it out together?”

“Together,” you agree. What follows is awkward and sweet and perfect. He’s gentle, careful, constantly checking if you’re okay. There’s fumbling and nervous laughter and moments where you have to adjust and try again.

But when he finally slides inside you, when you’re joined completely, it feels right. It feels like coming home. “God,” he breathes, forehead pressed against yours. “You feel amazing.”

He moves slowly at first, finding a rhythm, and the pleasure builds gradually. It’s not earth-shattering— first times rarely are— but it’s intimate and meaningful and when you both finish (you first, then him shortly after), you feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt to anyone.

After, you lie tangled together, sweaty and satisfied and happy. “That was…” Jungwon trails off.

“Yeah.”

“We should probably do that again sometime.”

“Definitely.” He laughs and pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You settle against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling utterly content.

“Hey,” he says after a while. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Always.”

“Do you ever feel like… like we’ve done this before? Not the sex,” he clarifies quickly. “Just… this. Us. Being together. Like we’ve been here before.”

Your heart skips. “Yeah. All the time.”

“Really?”

“Really. I can’t explain it. But from the moment we met, I felt like I knew you. Like we were supposed to find each other.”

“Me too.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My roommate thinks I’m crazy.”

“My roommate thinks I’m rushing into things.”

“Are we? Rushing?”

You think about it. Six weeks is fast. But it doesn’t feel fast. It feels inevitable. “I don’t think so,” you say. “I think… I think sometimes you just know. When something’s right.”

“Yeah.” He tightens his arms around you. “I think you’re right.”

You fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, and you dream of things you can’t quite remember when you wake. Battles and hospitals and sinking ships. A jungle. A burning building. And through it all, his face. Always his face.

You’re officially together by December. Boyfriend and girlfriend. You changed your relationship status on social media and everything.

Mina has stopped asking if you’re sure and started asking when you’re getting married, which is ridiculous because you’re only twenty-one, but sometimes you look at Jungwon and think yes, that one, forever. Which is insane. You’ve only known him for three months. But it doesn’t feel like three months. It feels like always.

It’s winter break now. Most students have gone home, but you and Jungwon both stayed on campus— you have a research project, he has lab work. Which means you basically have the whole university to yourselves.

Tonight, you’re at his apartment (he moved off-campus this semester) cooking dinner together. Or rather, you’re cooking while he sits on the counter and provides commentary. “You’re going to burn the chicken,” he observes.

“I’m not going to burn the chicken.”

“The pan is smoking.”

“That’s just—” You check the pan. It’s definitely smoking. “Okay, fine. You do it.” He laughs and hops down, gently moving you aside to take over. Within minutes, he’s rescued the chicken and gotten everything under control.

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook,” you accuse.

“I said I’m terrible at cooking. Doesn’t mean I can’t do basic stuff. I just prefer not to.”

“So you’ve been letting me struggle this whole time?”

“I like watching you try.”

You swat him with a dish towel and he catches your wrist, pulling you against him. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi yourself.” He kisses you, slow and sweet, and you melt into him. Three months in and he still makes your knees weak.

Dinner is actually good— turns out Jungwon can cook when properly motivated. You eat on his tiny balcony despite the cold, wrapped in blankets, watching the city lights. “I have something for you,” Jungwon says when you’re both finished eating.

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I know. But I saw this and thought of you and I couldn’t wait.” He pulls out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

“Jungwon—”

“Just open it.”

You unwrap it carefully. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with a tiny moon pendant. “Oh,” you breathe. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know you love looking at the moon. You always point it out when we’re walking at night. And I just… I wanted you to have something that reminded you of…” He trails off, looking embarrassed. “This is cheesy, isn’t it?”

“It’s perfect.” You kiss him. “Help me put it on?” He fastens the necklace around your neck, his fingers gentle on your skin. The pendant rests just below your collarbone, catching the light.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, but he’s looking at you, not the necklace.

That night, you make love in his bed, slow and tender. You’ve gotten better at it over the past few months— learned what each other likes, how to move together, how to make it good for both of you. When you’re both satisfied and drowsy, you curl up against his chest.

“I love you,” you say. It’s the first time either of you have said it. You’ve been thinking it for weeks, but you weren’t sure if it was too soon, if it would scare him off.

Jungwon goes very still. Then he tips your chin up so he can see your face. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He says it like a revelation, like he’s just discovered something amazing. “I’ve been wanting to say it for weeks.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Scared. Didn’t want to freak you out.”

“You could never freak me out.”

“Good to know.” He kisses you again. “I love you. So much. More than I knew was possible.” You fall asleep in his arms, the moon pendant warm against your skin, and everything feels perfect.

Your POV

Spring semester is brutal. You’re both drowning in work— your senior thesis is due in two months, Jungwon is applying to medical schools and studying for the MCAT. You still see each other every day, but it’s different now. Stressed. Tired. Neither of you sleeping enough.

One evening in late March, you’re both in the library, sitting at the same table but working on separate things. You’ve been here for six hours. Your eyes are burning, your back hurts, and you’re pretty sure you’ve read the same paragraph seventeen times without retaining any information.

You glance at Jungwon. He’s hunched over his biochemistry textbook, highlighter in hand, looking exhausted. “Break?” you suggest.

“Can’t. This exam is in two days and I’m nowhere near ready.”

“You’ve been studying for weeks. You’re ready.”

“I’m not. There’s still three chapters I haven’t reviewed and—”

“Jungwon.” You reach across the table to take his hand. “Take a break. Ten minutes. Please.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but then he sees your face and sighs. “Okay. Ten minutes.”

You both step outside into the cool spring air. The campus is quiet— it’s almost midnight, most people are asleep or partying. You find a bench and sit, and Jungwon immediately slumps against you. “I’m so tired,” he mumbles.

“I know. Me too.”

“When does it get easier?”

“I don’t think it does. I think we just get better at handling hard.”

He laughs weakly. “Philosophical.”

“I’m a history major. We’re all secretly philosophers.” You sit in comfortable silence for a while. The moon is visible through the trees, nearly full.

“Look,” you say, pointing. “The moon.”

Jungwon looks up, and something crosses his face. Something you can’t quite read. “It’s beautiful,” he says quietly.

“Makes me think of the necklace you gave me.” You touch the pendant, which you wear every day. “Do you ever wonder if the moon gets lonely? Just hanging up there, watching everyone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it’s comforting. Being able to witness everything. All the love stories, all the lives, all the history.” There’s something strange in his voice. Something distant.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Yeah. Just… sometimes I get this feeling. Like I’m supposed to remember something important but I can’t quite grasp it.” He shakes his head. “Ignore me. I’m sleep-deprived and saying weird things.”

“I get that feeling too sometimes.”

He turns to look at you. “You do?”

“Yeah. Especially when I’m with you. Like there’s something just out of reach. Something I should know.” You’re both quiet, staring at each other, and the moment feels heavy with meaning you can’t articulate.

“Weird,” Jungwon says finally.

“Yeah. Weird.” You go back to studying, but the feeling lingers.

—

It happens on a Tuesday.

You’re driving back from the library— late night, you stayed to finish a research paper. You’re tired, ready to collapse into bed. The light is green. You’re sure it’s green. You start through the intersection and— impact.

The car hits yours from the side, metal crunching, glass shattering. The world spins. Your head slams against something. And then everything goes dark.

Jungwon’s POV

Jungwon is in his apartment, half-asleep on the couch with a textbook on his chest, when his phone rings. Unknown number. He almost doesn’t answer. “Hello?”

“Is this Yang Jungwon?” A woman’s voice, professional and careful.

“Yes?”

“This is Mercy General Hospital. You’re listed as the emergency contact for—”

His blood turns to ice. “What happened? Is she okay? What happened?”

“There’s been an accident. A car accident. She’s alive, but she’s unconscious. You should come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Jungwon doesn’t remember the drive. One minute he’s in his apartment, the next he’s running through the hospital corridors, demanding to know where you are. They lead him to a room in the ICU. You’re there, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. Your face is pale, bruised. There’s a bandage around your head.

“Oh god,” he breathes.

A doctor intercepts him before he can reach you. “Mr. Yang?”

“How is she? What happened?”

“She was hit by another vehicle. Traumatic brain injury, some internal bleeding. We’ve stabilized her, but she’s in a coma.”

“A coma.”

“Her brain is swelling. We’re monitoring closely. The next 24-48 hours are critical.”

Jungwon sinks into a chair, his legs giving out. “Can I—can I sit with her?”

“Of course.”

He pulls a chair to your bedside and takes your hand. It’s cold. “I’m here,” he whispers. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

The machines beep steadily. Your chest rises and falls. But you don’t respond. Jungwon sits there for hours. Days. He leaves only when forced, only for bathroom breaks and when the nurses make him eat something.

He talks to you. Tells you about his day, about stupid things happening in his classes, about how much he misses you. Begs you to wake up. On the third day, your eyes open.

Your POV

You wake up slowly, consciousness returning in pieces. White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. Beeping sounds. The smell of antiseptic. Hospital. You try to sit up and pain lances through your head.

“Hey, hey, don’t move.” A familiar voice. Warm hands gently pushing you back down. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital. You were in an accident.”

You turn your head— slowly, because it hurts— and see Jungwon. And suddenly, you remember everything. Not just this life. Not just Jungwon the pre-med student you’ve been dating for nine months. You remember everything.

1770. A field hospital, a dying soldier, promises whispered under candlelight. 1850s. An arranged marriage that became real love, tuberculosis stealing him away. 1912. The Titanic, stolen moments, his face disappearing into chaos. 1969. Vietnam, journal entries, a letter written the day before he died. 2001. September 11th, a phone call, watching towers fall.

Five lifetimes. Five times you’ve found each other. Five times you’ve lost each other. And now this. Now here. You gasp, tears streaming down your face. “You,” you sob. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He looks confused and worried. “What? Hey, it’s okay, you’re probably disoriented—”

“I remember,” you say desperately. “I remember all of it. The hospital in 1770. Our wedding in 1850. The ship. The war. The towers. I remember, Jungwon. I remember everything.”

He goes very still. “What did you just say?”

“I remember. All the lifetimes. All the times we found each other and lost each other. The moon— you always asked if the moon remembers us. And you always said you’d find me in the next life. And you did. You always did.”

Jungwon is staring at you, his face white. “How do you—” His voice breaks. “How do you know about that?”

“Because I was there. I was there every time. And so were you.”

“I thought I was crazy,” he whispers. “I’ve been having these dreams since I was a kid. Different times, different lives, but always you. Always the same person. I thought they were just dreams. Just my brain making up stories.”

“They weren’t dreams. They were memories.” You’re both crying now, holding onto each other like you’re drowning.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Jungwon says. “My whole life, I’ve been looking for you. And when I saw you that day on campus, I knew. I knew it was you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it sounded insane! How do you tell someone you just met that you’ve loved them for centuries? That you remember dying in their arms in a field hospital in 1770?”

“You remember that?”

“I remember all of it. Every lifetime. Every death. Every promise I made to find you again.” He cups your face. “And here you are. You’re finally here and you remember me.”

“I almost died,” you realize. “That’s why I remember now. Being so close to death triggered the memories.”

“I don’t care why. I’m just glad you do.” He kisses you desperately. “I love you. I’ve loved you for lifetimes. Literal lifetimes.”

“I love you too. In every life, I’ve loved you.” You hold each other, crying and laughing and trying to process the impossible truth: you’ve lived before. Multiple times. And every single time, you’ve found each other. And every single time, you’ve lost each other.

“Not this time,” Jungwon says fiercely, like he can read your thoughts. “This time we’re not losing each other. This time we get our happy ending.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m not letting you go. Not for anything. We’ve waited too long. Suffered too much. This time, we’re keeping each other.” You want to believe him. God, you want to believe him. But you’ve believed before. And it’s never been enough.

Six Months Later - Your POV

You recover from the accident slowly but completely. The doctors call it a miracle— the brain injury should have had lasting effects, but somehow you’re fine. You know it’s not a miracle. It’s something else. Something to do with the lifetimes, with the universe giving you another chance.

You and Jungwon are inseparable now. Not in the cute couple way— in the “we’ve literally died and been reborn six times to find each other” way. You talk about the past lives constantly. Comparing memories, filling in gaps. He remembers things you don’t. You remember things he doesn’t. Together, you piece together the full story.

“In 1770, you promised me a dance,” you tell him one night.

“Did I?”

“You said when you were healed, you’d take me dancing. But you died before you could.”

“Then I owe you a dance.” He stands, offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”

There’s no music, but he pulls you into his arms anyway, swaying with you in the middle of his living room. You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes. “This is nice,” you murmur.

“Better late than never.”

“Only about 250 years late.”

He laughs. “I’m nothing if not punctual.”

You dance until you’re both tired, then collapse on the couch together. “Do you think it will happen again?” you ask quietly. “Do you think we’ll lose each other?”

“I don’t know.” His arm tightens around you. “But even if we do, I’ll find you again. I always do.”

“That’s not comforting. I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want to go through that pain.”

“Me neither. But if I had to choose between loving you and losing you, or never loving you at all? I’d choose loving you every time.”

You know he means it. Across five lifetimes, through wars and sickness and disasters, he’s chosen to love you every single time. “Marry me,” you say suddenly. “We’ve wasted enough time across enough lifetimes. Let’s not waste any more.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely serious. I love you. You love me. We’ve loved each other for centuries. Why wait?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Okay. Yes. Let’s get married. Let’s do it right this time. Let’s build the life we’ve never gotten to have.”

You kiss him, laughing and crying at the same time. “When?”

“Now. Tomorrow. Next week. I don’t care. Whenever you want.”

“Next month,” you decide. “Small ceremony. Just us and a few friends. Nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.”

You get married in October, in a small ceremony in Central Park. You wear a simple white dress. He wears a suit. Mina and Jake are there, along with a handful of other friends. The officiant asks if you have your own vows.

“I do,” Jungwon says, taking your hands. “I’ve loved you in more lifetimes than most people get to experience. I’ve died loving you. I’ve been reborn to find you. And every single time, choosing you has been the easiest decision I’ve ever made. This time, I’m choosing you for the rest of this life. However long that is. I’m choosing you every day, in every way. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”

You’re crying. “I promise to love you for the rest of this life and whatever comes after. I promise to remember. I promise to choose you, just like you’ve chosen me, across time and space and whatever separates us. You’re my home. You always have been.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He kisses you, and it tastes like forever.

Fifteen Years Later

You’re both in your fifties now. Jungwon is a successful cardiologist. You’re a tenured professor with three published books. You never have kids. It’s a choice you make together— you’ve lost each other too many times, you can’t imagine bringing children into that uncertainty. 

Instead, you pour your love into each other, into your careers, into making the world a little bit better. Jungwon volunteers at free clinics. You mentor graduate students. You both donate to causes you believe in. Your lives are full and meaningful and happy.

One evening, you’re both at a gala for Jungwon’s hospital. Fancy clothes, fancy food, schmoozing with donors. It’s not your favorite thing, but you do it for him. During the dancing portion of the evening, he pulls you onto the floor. “Remember when I promised you a dance in 1770?” he says, one hand on your waist, the other holding yours.

“You mean the dance we had in your apartment about twenty years ago?”

“That was a down payment. This is the real thing.”

You laugh and let him lead you around the floor. He’s a good dancer— you both are, after years of these events. “Do you ever regret it?” you ask quietly. “Choosing me? Building a life with someone who carries all this history?”

“Never. Not for a single second.” He pulls you closer. “Do you?”

“No. But sometimes I wonder what it would have been like. If we’d been normal people. If we’d met in just this lifetime and didn’t carry all that weight.”

“We wouldn’t be us. All those lifetimes, all that loss— it made us who we are. It taught us to appreciate what we have. To not take a single moment for granted.”

“That’s true.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too. In this life and every other.” 

You’re not sure what the future holds. You’re not sure if the two of you broke the cycle. But right here, in 2026, is all that matters. You found eachother after seven lifetimes.

And no matter what, the moon will be watching. The moon always watches. And the moon always remembers.

[02shuuu]

this song is all i could think of every time they mentioned the moon 😭