sim jaeyun lover

[stargirlver]

*˓͏͏ ✤ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐎𝐖𝐒 ⎯⎯ 𝐖𝐂 : 𝟖.𝟓𝐊 ꒰ oral (fem received), p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, semi-public, risk of being caught, dirty talk/praises, light spanking, possessive behavior, dom! jungwon, quickie, engaged couple ꒱

The constant murmur of the water fountains set the rhythm of a morning that seemed to have begun far too early for you. Between the endless list of dresses tried on, your mother’s insistence on every seam, and the enthusiastic comments from Jungwon’s mother as they walked through the city’s most exclusive boutiques, you had barely had a second to take in the day. The staff of the Yang residence followed them at a discreet distance, elegantly carrying the parade of bags that testified to the efficiency and excess of the outing, before crossing the glass doors that opened onto the vast rear garden of the property.

Upon stepping outside, the warmth of the afternoon was softened by the impeccable shade of the main porch. The table, dressed in linen and porcelain beneath the pergola, already gathered the three men of the family, who interrupted their conversation the moment the soft clink of the china announced the arrival of the women.

Jungwon did not wait for the servants to step forward. His gaze found you instantly among the group, cut with that natural elegance he had commanded since childhood, dressed in the measured comfort of high society. He rose with a fluid motion and pulled out the chair beside his own, extending a hand toward you in an open invitation to take the place reserved at his side.

“At least I can rest easy knowing my daughter is in the hands of a true gentleman, someone who will know how to take care of her as she deserves,” your father commented, directing a satisfied smile at Mr. Yang as he observed the scene from the opposite end of the table.

Jungwon did not lose his composure for even a fraction of a second. He kept his attention firmly on you, yet answered toward Mr. Kwon with that nuance of respectful charisma he handled to perfection, charming the elders without ever sounding arrogant.

“Of that you need not have the slightest doubt. I will make certain to treat your daughter as the exceptional woman she is, today and always,” he assured them in a serene voice with a thoroughly mature inflection.

While he spoke those words with impeccable social sobriety, you began settling into the chair. Then he leaned in to adjust it with soft precision, and without rushing, took the cloth napkin, unfolded it, and placed it carefully over your lap. His fingers brushed the fabric of your dress before he took your hand with delicacy, raising it to the height of his face to press a firm, lingering kiss upon your knuckles.

“I missed you all morning,” he whispered very close to your ear, in a tone so low and rough that the rest of the table could barely perceive the movement of his lips.

An instant warmth rose up your neck to your cheeks, forcing you to offer a discreet smile. Though Jungwon’s constant attention had never been foreign to you—since the complicity you shared had been taking shape long before their surnames signed an official engagement, the transition to being betrothed had given a different weight to every interaction. You knew well that this attentive, gentlemanly facade that dazzled both sets of parents was nothing more than the deceptive cover of a book whose more intense, and frankly less proper, chapters were read only by the two of you when no intrusive gazes were present.

In any case, lunch unfolded pleasantly, amid the subtle clink of cutlery against porcelain and a fluid conversation, punctuated by the complacent laughter of both families. Preparations for the engagement occupied the center of the table, until your mother brought up the evening’s gathering: a prenuptial reception that the Yang family would host at the residence to officially present the union before their closest circle. Mr. Yang was quick to nod with satisfaction, underscoring the importance of formally introducing the two of you to strategic partners and investors whose influence, sooner or later, would be at the disposal of both of you as future heirs.

“Do you have your suit ready for tonight? I don’t want to see you rushing at the last minute, Yang Jungwon,” his mother interjected, turning an inquisitive look toward him.

Jungwon finished savoring a final cut of his juicy steak, chewed with deliberation, then set his utensils on the plate before answering with the impeccable composure that characterized him.

“I’ve been overseeing a couple of matters with Father and Mr. Kwon since this morning, so I forgot to stop by the tailor’s. But I’ll go pick it up in a moment, there won’t be any delay, I promise,” he admitted, offering his mother a reassuring smile, and then turned in your direction.

“I can go with you if you’d like,” you offered at once, seeking his gaze naturally. Jungwon watched you for a second, and a spark of mischief crossed his dark eyes before he gently shook his head.

“The idea tempts me, because nothing is better than your company, love. But I’d rather build anticipation,” he replied, keeping a tone steeped in affection as genuine as it was calculated. “I want to surprise you tonight, just as I know you’re going to leave me breathless when I see you in whatever you’ve chosen.”

Behind the courtesy of his words, the nuance in his voice transmitted a clear and implicit message: “It isn’t wise for us to be alone just yet.” You knew perfectly well what he meant; proximity without witnesses would only complicate the restraint both of you were trying to maintain, and which already hurt so much. You smiled with complicity and slid your hand across the table to brush against his.

“All right, I’ll wait. Though I can already imagine how handsome you’ll look, babe,” you accepted with simulated docility, and he curved his lips into a faint smile. A gesture of discreet approval.

Taking advantage of the fold of the tablecloth that hid the lower half of the table, he slid his other hand beneath it. Without any of those present suspecting a thing, his fingers pressed firmly against your thigh, ascending dangerously close to that place which family etiquette had forbidden him to desire before the marriage certificate was signed. The contrast between the coldness of protocol and the heat of his grip made you hold your breath for an instant. In the eyes of your parents and his, it was nothing more than a tender exchange between two young people in love and destined to be together.

Ah… if only someone knew…

But anyway. The afternoon dissolved into a whirlwind of impeccably coordinated activity. The residence staff came and went adjusting the floral arrangements, verifying the garden lighting, and polishing every corner of the mansion. In the room that had been assigned to you (yes, they had granted you an individual space, arranged under the strict premise of avoiding “temptations” prior to the wedding), the styling team hired by your mother-in-law put the final touches on your hair and makeup.

When at last you were alone, you studied yourself in the mirror. The pearl-white satin dress fell with exquisite fluidity over your figure, secured at the neck and leaving exposed a pronounced back neckline that supplied the exact dose of elegance and sensuality. It was not a revealing design, yet you were absolutely certain it would steal every gaze… and, above all, shatter Jungwon’s self-control. You finished the look by fastening your heels and applying to your wrists and neck a few drops of the perfume he had given you the night they became engaged.

With the scent still fresh on your skin, you stepped into the hallway and walked directly toward your fiancé’s room.

Inside the chamber, the silence was broken only by the soft tick of the watch Jungwon was finishing adjusting on his left wrist. In front of the full-length mirror, his figure was far from the polish he displayed before the adults: the white shirt remained unbuttoned, leaving visible the firm, defined contour of his chest and abdomen; the black silk tie hung untied over his shoulders, and the dark slacks rested unfastened at the hips, hinting at the elastic of his boxers and the descending line of his member beneath the fabric.

A couple of soft knocks on the wood broke his concentration.

“Come in, it’s open,” he indicated without fully turning, assuming it was one of the household attendants. Yet when your figure reflected in the glass, the air caught abruptly in his throat. He went completely still.

The sight of you crossing the threshold, wrapped in the pearly fall of satin that molded your waist and exposed the clean curve of your shoulders, erased at once any executive or familial thought he might have had. You looked simply divine, like a vision conceived solely to disarm him.

And as if that were not enough, he noticed at once the faint blush that tinged your cheeks upon finding him half-dressed, and that reaction of yours was the final trigger. Forgetting the tie, the watch, and any trace of the prudence he had so firmly preached during lunch, he turned completely and closed the distance between you with firm, inevitable steps.

“My God…” he murmured in a husky voice, stopping mere centimeters from you while his eyes traveled over every detail of your face before descending along the neckline of the dress as you turned to show him every detail. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look? Are you aware that you’re going to drive me insane before the night even begins?”

A soft laugh rose from your throat, a low and melodious sound that resonated in the intimacy of the room with open coquetry, without the slightest trace of regret.

“Oh, believe me, I know perfectly well. I’m not unaware of my own actions and decisions,” you answered with a challenging nuance in your voice, finishing the turn. Then you closed the remaining gap until you stood a breath from his chest.

Your gaze descended without any modesty, traveling slowly over the anatomy you knew by heart: the toned firmness of his torso, the subtle relief of his pectorals, and the defined line of his abdomen that dipped toward his hips, partially hidden by the edge of his underwear and the unbuttoned waistband of his trousers. Nor did you overlook the evident reaction of his body; the accumulated tension beneath the fabric of his pants traced a firm silhouette that left nothing to the imagination.

Jungwon followed the direction of your eyes, and a dark smile, steeped in self-satisfaction, curved his lips.

“If you keep devouring me with your eyes like that, I swear I’m going to forget there’s a hall full of people waiting downstairs for us to pose as the saintly couple everyone thinks we are,” he warned in a voice rough with need. Yet his actions immediately contradicted the sense of his words.

His hand circled your waist with possessive firmness and pulled you against him without ceremony, pressing your body to his so that you could feel with total clarity the devastating effect your mere presence had on him. He slid his other hand to your back, cupping his palm over the bare skin exposed by the dress’s neckline. The smoothness beneath his fingers ignited a violent impulse in his mind: the almost uncontrollable temptation to turn you, pin you against the mattress, and strip away the dress until you were naked and entirely at his mercy, collecting with interest everything he had spent hours imagining doing to you.

The atmosphere between the two of you grew so dense that the air seemed to weigh in the lungs, an electric tension that increased with every shared breath.

“I can’t help it, my love. Truly… I can’t help looking at you and wanting you this way,” you murmured almost against his lips, letting your warm breath brush him, while you brought your left hand to the nape of his neck. That was the drop that overflowed the glass.

Jungwon eliminated any remaining space and tilted his face to capture your mouth in a kiss that bore not the slightest relation to the chaste, reserved propriety both of you displayed before the public eye. It was a hungry, wet, and hot encounter, where tongues sought each other with fierce urgency, fed by the restrained longing of the day and the frustrating weight of family restrictions.

Still wrapped in the frantic rhythm of the kiss, Jungwon took your right hand and guided it firmly downward, pressing your palm directly over the rigid prominence marked in his boxers so that you would feel the magnitude of his hardness. Immediately afterward, his own hand descended to the curve of your backside, molding your cheeks over the dress with a possessive squeeze that lifted you slightly against his hip while his lips left yours to descend blindly, scattering burning kisses and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck.

A broken moan escaped your lips, murmuring Jungwon’s name in a visceral reaction to the searing brush of his mouth and the firm contact of his hands on your body. He interrupted the path along your neck to ascend the line of your jaw, depositing short, heat-laden kisses before stopping millimeters from your mouth.

“You’re not helping me at all to maintain the posture of a gentleman and respectful fiancé…” he murmured in a rough voice, his agitated breathing striking your skin. “You really shouldn’t have come in like this, sweetheart.”

You answered him with a smile as sensual as it was defiant. Far from stopping, you continued rubbing your open palm over the bulge in his boxers, exerting measured pressure on the rigid silhouette of his cock, which molded itself to your hand, savoring the almost direct stimulation you were giving him. A soft gasp escaped him at your boldness.

Without breaking the fluidity of the moment, he turned you firmly, leaving you with your back to his torso. He inclined his face to place a trail of deep kisses on the exposed skin of your spine, while both his hands advanced forward to knead your breasts over the satin. Instantly he noticed the absence of a bra when the fine fabric could not hide the way your nipples hardened under his touch. With an instinctive movement, he pressed his hips against your ass, rubbing rhythmically against you so that you would feel the weight and hardness of his member with greater insistence.

The acceleration of their breathing marked a point of no return. You knew that a few more seconds in that position would ruin any possibility of maintaining composure. So, from one second to the next, you gently freed yourself from his hold, turned around, and put a couple of steps between you, bringing your fingers to your lips to slow the pace of the scene.

“We have to calm down now, Wonie,” you sighed, trying to regulate your own breathing. “If we keep going at this rate, the last thing we’ll do is go down to the reception. Besides… at any moment someone could come looking for us.”

Jungwon let out a low growl of frustration, but conceded the point reluctantly. He ran a hand over his face and proceeded to adjust his underwear and zip up his trousers, making a conscious effort to ignore the painful erection that still gripped his groin. He tucked the tails of his shirt into the waistband, buttoned the garment with a certain haste, and fastened the leather belt over his waist.

While he dressed, you took the opportunity to smooth the invisible wrinkles from your dress and carefully check your reflection in the mirror, making certain the lipstick had not smudged after the whirlwind of kisses. Once your appearance was verified, you approached him. Without a word, you stretched out your hands to adjust the collar of his shirt and took the ends of the silk tie to tie the knot with skill. Jungwon did not waste the closeness; he circled your waist with one arm, holding you pressed to his body while he watched the concentrated movement of your fingers.

A couple of dry knocks on the wood interrupted the silence, and immediately the door opened. Jungwon’s mother crossed the threshold, stopping when she saw the image of the two of you in the center of the room. Something that, at first glance and without prior context, appeared entirely innocent.

“But what a marvel… You both look impeccable. Definitely, my dear son, you already have an exceptional wife at your side,” she commented with a moved smile, clasping her hands.

Jungwon did not look away from your eyes for even a second. He kept his arm firm around your waist and offered his mother a measured reply, steeped in a double meaning that only you could decipher.

“I agree, Mother. I am an extremely fortunate man,” he answered with charisma, though the curve of his lips and the inquisitive gleam in his gaze carried an openly suggestive nuance.

Mrs. Yang advanced a couple more steps into the room and took you delicately by the arm, inviting you to separate from him. “Well, dear, since you’re already ready, it would be ideal if you come downstairs with me so I can introduce you to some of the family’s partners and friends who are arriving.”

You glanced sideways at Jungwon and then at your mother-in-law, searching for a diplomatic excuse to gain more time at his side. “Actually… I would like to go down with Jungwon; I would feel much more comfortable. Besides, I was only helping him finish adjusting his suit,” you explained in a sweet tone, offering your best smile and praying she would swallow the excuse.

Nevertheless, Mrs. Yang clicked her tongue lightly and shook her head in a dismissive yet affectionate gesture.

“He can finish on his own, dear. He’s not a little boy. Come, let’s not keep the guests waiting.” Without giving room for further objections or excuses, she guided you toward the hallway, leaving Jungwon alone in the middle of the spacious room.

Silence settled once more in the place. Jungwon remained motionless, watching the open door through which you had left, before shifting his gaze to the full-length mirror. The prominent and evident bulge beneath his trousers was still exactly there, intact and unrelenting. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair to clear the frustration.

Definitely, that was something he would have to take care of by his own means before daring to go downstairs.

On the other hand…

The ground floor of the enormous Yang property had been transformed into the epicenter of a majestic event, packed with guests distributed almost everywhere. Circular tables with elegantly upholstered chairs filled the indoor space, all wrapped in an impeccable décor that fused good taste with the ostentation characteristic of their class. Consequently, the glass doors leading to the rear garden remained wide open, revealing how the exterior housed even more groups of attendees and floral arrangements that decorated the evening under the light of the garlands.

It was precisely in that outdoor area that Mrs. Yang decided to take you as if you were her most prized trophy, dragging you from one group to another and introducing you to an endless list of people. From distant relatives you had never seen in your life, through influential business partners of her husband, to old friends from high society.

At some point during that social parade, the pain in your feet began to become unbearable because of the heels. On the verge of exhaustion, you discreetly turned toward where your parents were standing, casting them a silent and urgent look that pleaded for help. However, they merely returned rehearsed expressions of encouragement and support, urging you with subtle gestures to keep smiling and interacting as protocol dictated. Sighing imperceptibly, you rolled your eyes the moment they turned their backs and, with all the diplomacy you could muster, briefly excused yourself from your mother-in-law and her circle of friends to take a breath.

Intending to rest, you headed toward the main table that had been designated exclusively for Jungwon and you. Yet the moment you took your seat and unfolded a decorative fan resting on the tablecloth to cool your face, the figure of your fiancé finally appeared among the crowd. In that same instant, his father’s voice resonated through the space, calling you to join Jungwon once more at the center of the scene and proceed with the long-awaited official presentation before everyone present.

Fulfilling the expectations of his lineage, Jungwon delivered a brief yet masterfully rehearsed introductory speech. He spoke with the ease and composure of someone who had spent his entire life preparing to lead, presenting himself as the legitimate heir of the Yang family and assuring, with magnetic charisma, that he would be as relentless and competent in the world of business as he would be in his romantic commitment.

Immediately afterward, he yielded the floor to you with an elegant gesture; your intervention was far more concise, presenting yourself with firmness and grace as the heir of the Kwon family, limiting your words to what was strictly necessary without losing a single ounce of sophistication.

Once the formality concluded, the two of you were finally able to return to your table. Before enjoying the seats, you first had to deal with the insistence of a professional photographer who kept demanding various shots and angles to immortalize the event, and afterward with the constant procession of guests who approached to congratulate you and exchange a few words. Tolerating the bustle surrounding you was genuinely exhausting, though at least the dinner was exquisite and you enjoyed the privilege of being the sole occupants of your table. Thanks to that, Jungwon took advantage of the intimacy of the tablecloth to rest one of his hands on your thigh, offering you silent support throughout the evening.

“Why did you take so long to come downstairs?” you reproached him in a low voice, leaning slightly toward him while maintaining a smile for the rest of the room. “If you’d delayed five more minutes, I swear your mother would have forced me to shake hands with the president himself, if he’s around here somewhere.”

An authentic, low, and raspy laugh escaped Jungwon’s lips at your complaint. He found it frankly amusing to hear you exaggerate the situation, though deep down he knew you weren’t far from the truth, considering how extremely sociable and calculating his mother could become at events of this kind.

“I’m truly sorry for the delay, baby,” he replied, drawing close enough for his breath to caress your ear. “Believe me, I wanted to be down here right away. However, I found myself obliged to take a good moment alone to solve the ‘little problem’ you caused and left unresolved inside my pants.”

The surprise disarmed you for an instant, your eyes widening at his boldness before a stifled giggle escaped you. “You’re a complete pervert, Wonie~” you whispered, shaking your head, still smiling in amusement.

“I’m the pervert?” he countered immediately, arching an eyebrow with malice. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who walked into my room and didn’t show a single drop of shame while looking me over, much less when you touched my cock while we were kissing. You were devouring me, and now here you are, sitting so properly, pretending to be a chaste and decent lady…

He made a tactical pause, sliding his fingers a little higher up your leg before delivering the final blow.

“When in reality, you’re the same girl who just a couple of nights ago was moaning my name at the top of your lungs, begging me to give it to you harder while I buried myself to the hilt and pulled your hair. Not to mention how afterward you were riding me as if your life depended on it.”

The impact of his words, summoning such raw and heated images in the middle of a reception like this, flushed your cheeks scarlet in a second. Because inevitably, the familiar sensations awakened in your body, and the blood rushed through you. To make matters worse, your panties were already a mess beneath the dress, soaked since the moment you had been in his room, and only growing unbearably sticky against your most intimate place.

Completely flushed, you reacted by giving him a discreet but firm little smack on the arm in an attempt to silence him. The sudden movement did not go unnoticed, immediately capturing the attention of some nearby guests who, far from suspecting the explicit nature of the conversation, merely interpreted the touch as a charming and complicit gesture, typical of two young fiancés hopelessly in love.

As the evening progressed, glasses of champagne continued circulating amid refined conversations and a brief moment on the dance floor where the two of you shared a measured dance. However, the constant proximity and the restriction imposed by the watchful gazes of those present only fueled a voracious hunger, making restraint a practically impossible task.

Seizing a moment of collective distraction, Jungwon slipped through the crowd with the ease of someone who knew every corner of his home, staying clear of fixed stares. Moments later, he locked eyes with you and gave you a subtle gesture, a silent cue only you were equipped to interpret. Without thinking twice, you stood and made your way among the guests, sweetly excusing yourself with the pretext of heading to the powder room to retouch your makeup.

Following the invisible trail he had marked for you, you entered one of the mansion’s secondary hallways. Jungwon emerged from the shadow of a column and, with a firm nod of his head, indicated a door concealed in the wall paneling, an access clearly not intended for ordinary visitor traffic. You crossed the threshold and immediately faced him with curiosity.

“What is this place?” you asked in a whisper, observing the narrow, sober corridor.

“A private passageway,” Jungwon answered, offering a calm smile as he took your hand firmly to guide you through the dimness. “It connects the ground floor directly to the upper wing.”

You climbed a series of hidden stairs with agility until you reached another small door at the end of the stretch. When he pushed it open and stepped forward, the surprise left you momentarily speechless: you had just emerged, nothing more and nothing less, into the very same individual room your mother-in-law had assigned you for the stay.

“I never would have imagined this room had an access like this…” you admitted, looking around with disbelief. Jungwon closed the hidden panel behind him and gave you a sly smile, charged with charming self-assurance.

“It was my ace up the sleeve, my love,” he confessed, closing the distance toward you. “I planned to sneak in through here later, once the party was over and my parents were deeply asleep. That way we could make love all night long without worrying about anyone’s restrictions or schedules.”

He turned for a second to head toward the main entrance of the bedroom, sliding the bronze latch with a dry, definitive click that sealed the isolation of the place.

“But… I’m afraid I find myself in absolute need of advancing the plan. Because frankly, I can’t stand even one more second,” he continued, turning back to you with eyes darkened by desire.

Before you could articulate a response or attempt a joke, Jungwon took you by the waist and pulled you abruptly against his torso, capturing your lips in a kiss infinitely more hungry and voracious than the previous one. The impact of their bodies made the urgency contained for hours detonate without remedy.

Your hands, already restless and desperate to feel the heat of his skin, immediately sought the buttons of his shirt to undo them in haste, while his hands rose to the nape of your neck to skillfully undo the fastening that held the dress at your throat.

The satin tie gave way and the upper part of the dress fell, leaving the bare skin of your chest at the mercy of Jungwon’s hands. He did not waste a second in kneading your breasts with hungry urgency, squeezing them, brushing the nipples with his fingertips until they hardened against his palm. The contact tore a muffled sigh from you that was lost against his neck when you tilted your head to bury your lips in his skin, scattering hot, wet kisses over his accelerated pulse. Your fingers finished freeing the last buttons of his shirt, pushing it downward to strip his torso completely bare.

He interrupted the contact with your breasts only long enough to shed the shirt and toss it aside. Without the barrier of fabric, he wrapped both arms around your back and pressed you firmly against his naked torso. You felt the direct heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles tensed by excitement and, lower down, the evident hardness of his erection brushing you through the cloth. You circled his neck with your arms, continuing the trail of kisses along his jaw and neck, while his hands descended over your figure. He guided the fabric of the dress over your hips with deliberate slowness, caressing the curve of your ass as he went, until the garment finally fell to your feet, leaving you only in a pair of white lace panties.

Without breaking the current of electricity that enveloped them, he gripped your backside firmly, squeezing the flesh between his fingers, and lifted you into the air to carry you straight to the wide bed. He laid you on the mattress and positioned himself over you, touching your face with unhurried caresses while his kisses descended again toward your mouth, deeper, more demanding, his tongue brushing yours with promise.

“We have to be quick, love. It won’t be long before they notice neither of us is in the hall and start looking for us,” he murmured against your lips, his breathing ragged yet maintaining that intense, possessive gaze. Until he made a brief pause, leaning in to delicately bite the lobe of your ear before whispering into it, his voice hoarse with desire : “That said… I guarantee I’ll fuck you again later, when we no longer have commitments to fulfill or authority figures prowling the house. I won’t have to hold back then. Though I don’t plan on holding back right now either.”

A playful smile curved your lips at his warning.

“At least the promise of a second round leaves me more at ease. One is never enough,” you answered with sarcasm, running your hands over his abdomen without any modesty. And taking advantage of that closeness, you descended toward the waistband of his slacks, unbuckling the leather belt and freeing the main button.

You lowered the zipper with deliberate slowness, feeling the heat and hardness of his cock through the fabric, before beginning to slide his trousers down his hips. Yang, noticing the haste with which you were trying to undress him, let out a low chuckle and gently caught your wrists to move your hands aside.

“Don’t get desperate, beautiful lady~” he teased, winking at you with malice, though the tension in his jaw betrayed how much it cost him to restrain himself.

You gave him a playful little smack on the chest in response, rolling your eyes with amused indignation. “You’re the one who just told me we had to hurry, idiot,” you retorted, consternated, and poked him in the side with your finger.

Jungwon released a low laugh and rose so he could quickly remove his shoes. And just like that, without wasting more time, he pulled off his trousers and boxers in a single motion, discarding the last garment. He stood completely naked before your eyes: the imposing figure, the defined muscles, and his thick, hard cock, erect against his flat stomach, reaffirming without reserve the desire he felt for you. Once free of restraints, he positioned himself again on the bed, looming over your body, the tip of his member brushing the fabric of your underwear while his eyes traveled over every centimeter of you, ready to take what was his.

From one second to the next, he leaned over the mattress, shifting his body downward until he settled firmly between your open legs. With a precise movement, he hooked a finger in the edge of your lace panties and shifted them aside, exposing your wet, glistening pussy, shiny with arousal. The cool air brushed your most sensitive skin for an instant before the heat of his gaze replaced it. He let out a low growl, a mixture of possessiveness and pure delight at contemplating how your swollen, slick folds betrayed how much you wanted him and how ready you were.

Without hesitating a second, he pressed his lips against your mound in a burning, open-mouthed kiss. Immediately afterward, he unfurled his tongue to trace a warm, firm, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, carefully parting your folds. The taste of your arousal coated his tongue as he enclosed that small bundle of nerves between his lips and sucked it with skill, dragging his tongue in precise circles. The direct stimulation made your body react instantly; you moaned his name aloud, your back arching, and you tangled your fingers in his hair, instinctively lifting your hips off the mattress in search of more friction, more pressure, more of that hot tongue that was covering you entirely.

However, Jungwon interrupted the oral torture and rose onto his knees. The sheen of your wetness still glistened on his lips. He took his erect member in one hand, pumping it just a couple of times; the thick vein pulsed under his fingers and the tip already shone with a thread of precum. He used the hot, slick head to give you a couple of playful taps against your clit, rubbing it up and down, before aligning himself at your entrance. Without too many contemplations or detours, he thrust his hips forward and sank into you completely in a single deep stroke. You felt how he opened you, how every centimeter of his thick, hard cock slid pushing against your wet walls until he was fully buried, the bone of his pelvis colliding against yours.

A coordinated gasp escaped both of you. The heat of his body filling you, the intense stretch, the pulse of his length inside you. Without wasting time, he gripped your legs and raised them until they rested on his broad shoulders, achieving an angle that allowed him to penetrate you even deeper. He began thrusting without the slightest hint of gentleness; driven by need and the explicit intention of making you lose control, he drove into your body with force and constant rhythm. Every thrust was deep, wet; the obscene sound of skin against skin and of his cock entering and leaving your soaked pussy filled the room. He sought to make you completely drop the composed young-lady façade you had worn all afternoon. The intensity of his movements made your breasts bounce with every thrust, the hardened nipples trembling, a sight that finished clouding his judgment.

Even with your legs up, you moved your hands and lowered them into the gap between your thighs until you reached his defined abdomen and pelvis, caressing the tense, hot skin that collided against yours, feeling how the muscles contracted with every thrust. Jungwon lowered his gaze to your fingers and a malicious, fascinated smile curved his face.

“It’s obvious you can’t keep your hands off me, is it?” he teased in a ragged voice, without slowing the strokes in the slightest. Every thrust pushed you a little farther into the mattress, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot inside you that made you tremble.

He noticed at once how your eyes drifted, fascinated, toward your feet resting on his shoulders and then descended over the relief of his torso, admiring the way his pectorals defined themselves more sharply from that angle, the skin glistening with sweat, the muscles tensing.

“And apparently… Neither can your eyes. You’re a complete pervert, my love, admit it,” he added with smugness.

“Shut up… you… you’re no better than I am. You were the one who corrupted me,” you managed to articulate between broken moans, deliberately tightening your walls around him, feeling how he pulsed harder inside you.

Your beloved fiancé let out a low, raspy laugh, throwing his head back for a second before delivering a particularly hard and deep thrust that tore a sharp moan from you. He filled you completely, the impact making your clit rub against the base of his cock, forcing you to dig your nails into his abdomen in an attempt to anchor yourself to the pleasure that washed through you in waves.

In response to your grip, he firmly took both of your wrists and guided your hands upward, pressing your palms directly against the hot, sweaty skin of his chest. You felt the accelerated heartbeat under your fingers, the hard muscles against your hands.

“In that case… touch whatever you want, gorgeous,” he ordered in a demanding tone, locking his dark eyes on yours while maintaining the relentless rhythm of his hips. Every thrust was deeper, wetter, the sound of your bodies joining growing more and more obscene. “Put your hands wherever you please, because for this I’m yours… I’m your man and very soon your husband.”

He leaned his torso closer to your ear, letting his breath scorch against your neck while he continued fucking you hard, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, his cock striking that precise point over and over.

“Get used to it, Mrs. Yang, because this is exactly how I’m going to have you almost every day once we move in together. Just you and me. I plan to take you on every damn surface of the house we’re going to share.”

Following his words, he tilted his face to place kisses on each of your ankles before sliding his hands along the inner sides of your legs, his fingers advancing over the sensitive, trembling skin. He spread your thighs firmly, securing his grip as he rose onto the bed, his dark gaze fixed between your legs.

“Come for me, my love,” he demanded in a rough, raspy voice dominated by desire. “I can feel how tight and hot you are, how you squeeze me every time I push in… I know perfectly well how close you are to falling apart.”

In an instant, he sat back on his heels and shifted your legs from his shoulders to the height of his forearms, opening you even wider to his gaze. With a firm tug, he lifted your hips above the mattress, leaving only your shoulder blades resting against the sheet. The change in angle made his thick, slick cock brush an exact, deep point inside you. The head pressed against that sensitive place with every millimeter, tearing a sharp moan of pure pleasure from your throat.

“Don’t stop… It feels so good like this, Wonie… I’m so close,” you pleaded with broken breathing, while at the same time holding your breasts in your hands, playing with them.

Responding to your plea, Jungwon brought one of his hands to the place where their bodies joined. He felt the soaked heat of your pussy, the lips that parted around his cock. With the pad of his thumb he began pressing and rubbing your swollen clit in a rapid, precise rhythm, sliding his finger in firm circles, determined to give you the orgasm first. His own ragged breathing and the tension in his thighs betrayed that he wouldn’t last much longer either; the base of his cock pulsed inside you, bathed in your fluids.

That double stimulation was the final trigger. You moaned his name at the top of your lungs as the climax hit you fully. Your interior contracted furiously around his cock, the walls squeezing him in rhythmic waves, milking him, sucking him. A warm rush of your arousal soaked the base of his cock and slid down your thighs. Your entire body began to tremble under Jungwon’s grip; your legs turned to jelly, the muscles shaking uncontrollably while the spasms of orgasm swept through you from head to toe.

Yet he was not willing to give you even a second of respite. He pulled out of you abruptly with an obscene sound, then stepped down from the bed, standing at the edge of the mattress. Taking you by the ankles, he pulled you forward until you were at the very limit of the bed, your ass almost hanging off. He immediately leaned over your face to capture your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth to drink the sighs that still escaped your chest, the salty taste of your skin mixing with his.

“I’m not finished with you yet, Mrs. Yang,” he murmured, brushing your cheek as he pulled away, his voice hoarse.

Without waiting for a response, he took you by the waist and flipped you over on the bed with almost ridiculous ease, dominating your body entirely at his will. He let out a sigh of fascination at seeing how you obeyed, ending up with your ass raised, your back pronouncedly arched, and your hands held docilely against the small of your back. Your already-used pussy was completely exposed in that position, a thread of your fluids sliding down the inner side of your thigh.

Jungwon contemplated the scene for a couple of seconds, admiring the erotic vision you gifted him: the arch of your back, the residual tremor in your thighs, the glistening of your open, soaked pussy.

“You’re so beautiful…” he praised in a deep voice, before raising his hand and delivering a firm spank to your right cheek. The dry, fleshy sound echoed through the room; the impact left a burning pink mark on your skin, the flesh trembling under his palm. “You look so sexy like this for me.”

Without further delay, he aligned the head of his cock against your entrance. He pushed and sank into you again in a single deep stroke, opening you all at once once more. The wet, obscene sound of his cock driving fully into your soaked pussy filled the air: a fleshy, slick slap as his pelvis collided with your ass. You felt every vein, every centimeter of his thickness sliding through your still-sensitive and contracted walls, stretching you, filling you to the hilt. Holding you firmly by the hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, he resumed a hard, fast, relentless rhythm.

Every thrust was a deep blow, the sound of skin against skin and of his cock entering and leaving your soaked interior setting the pace. He was shamelessly chasing the point of no return, determined to reach his own orgasm inside you.

The constant overstimulation and the implacable rhythm of his thrusts dragged you, almost involuntarily, into coming apart again. Your entire body contracted in a second violent climax; the walls of your pussy clamped around him in tight, rhythmic waves, milking him, while a new warm rush of your arousal soaked his length. Jungwon received every spasm with a mixture of pride and absolute possessiveness, showering you with rough, explicit praise against your skin, murmuring how good you felt squeezing him, how perfect you were coming around him.

Right afterward, he finally found his own release. With one last brutal thrust, he buried himself in you to the hilt, the bone of his pelvis slamming against your ass, and held himself there. A deep, ecstatic growl left his lips as he threw his head back. You felt the first hot, thick spurt of his cum shoot into the deepest part of your interior, followed by another and another, filling you in pulses while his cock throbbed and contracted inside you. The heat of his release expanded, thick and abundant, mixing with your own fluids until you felt completely soaked and full of him.

Little by little, the intensity of their breathing began to ease. Jungwon let himself fall gently onto your back, embracing you around the waist while scattering warm, unhurried kisses along your spine, still trembling slightly from the residual of his orgasm.

“Are you okay, darling?” he asked in a voice still roughened by the effort, brushing his cheek against yours with genuine concern. “Tell me I wasn’t too rough… I know I got carried away, and considering how little time we’ve had since our intimate life started in secret, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

An exhausted yet deeply satisfied smile curved your face. You could still feel his hot, thick cum inside you, an intimate, viscous reminder of what you had just done.

“I’m perfect, you don’t have to worry,” you answered softly, turning your face a little to seek his lips and leave him a short kiss. “In fact, this was the best thing in the world. And if it’s like this now, I can already imagine everything we’ll do once we have no rush and no fear of being caught”

Jungwon smiled against your skin, pulling you a little tighter against his chest.

“I love you,” he murmured with a sincere sweetness that contrasted with the savagery of moments ago. “I promise you that later, when we’re alone, I’ll take all the time in the world to be better, go slower, and spoil you the way you truly deserve.”

“And I love you, Wonie. I really love you so much,” you whispered, feeling your heart melt a little more for him.

He began to slide out of you with infinite care. His cock, still semi-hard and glistening with the mixture of both of you, withdrew with a soft, wet sound; as it did, a thick thread of his cum immediately slipped from your entrance, warm and viscous, sliding down the inner side of your thigh. He was ready to curl up beside you even if only for a couple of minutes. However, reality did not take long to assert itself.

A few dry knocks suddenly resonated against the main door of the bedroom, making both of you tense instantly, freezing in place. The alarm was total when, from the other side of the hallway, a single call was heard.

“Daughter, are you in there?” asked the unmistakable voice of your mother, sounding clearly through the wood.

They stared at each other for a second of absolute panic, eyes wide. Neither of them made a single sound. When she received no immediate reply, your mother did not call again; instead, a metallic noise froze them completely. The doorknob began to turn and was rattled up and down, being forced from the outside in a silent but insistent attempt to enter the room.

Moving on pure survival instinct, both of you rose from the mattress in all haste. Jungwon gathered his scattered clothes from the floor in record time and, buttoning his shirt halfway and with his shoes in hand, cast you one last warning look before disappearing into the dimness of the secret passageway through which you had arrived.

For your part, you slipped back into the satin dress with agile, trembling hands. It was only then, while readjusting the straps at the neck to return them to their perfect place and finally answer.

“Yes, Mom, I’m here!” you exclaimed, raising your voice enough for her to hear, trying to make your tone sound as casual and calm as possible. “I’m coming out now, I had to use the bathroom in this room because the ones downstairs were all occupied, and I took the chance to do a quick touch-up as well.”

In front of the mirror, your hands worked with millimeter precision while you spoke. You reapplied lipstick to cover any trace of the hungry kisses, wiped with a tissue the small spots where sweat and makeup had mixed, and arranged a couple of rebellious strands that had come loose from your hairstyle. Every movement made you aware of the cum that continued to slowly slip inside you, a secret, obscene reminder of what you had just shared. Once you looked as impeccable as at the start of the night, you walked with forcibly steady steps and unlocked the latch.

When you opened the door, your mother looked you up and down. Fortunately, she seemed to suspect absolutely nothing of what had just occurred mere meters from her.

“Well, hurry up, sweetheart. We need you downstairs right away,” she urged, taking you by the arm with a certain impatience to pull you out of the room. “They’re about to make the final toast in your honor and, to top it all off, we can’t find Jungwon anywhere.”

You chose not to make any comment regarding your fiancé’s whereabouts. The residual heat between your legs and the thick wetness soaking your underwear were secrets only the two of you shared.

“Then let’s hurry, we shouldn’t keep the guests waiting,” you answered naturally, offering a rehearsed smile. You took your mother’s arm and accompanied her downstairs.

Upon reaching the ground floor and advancing toward the open glass doors that led to the garden, Jungwon’s figure emerged in an extremely timely manner from the hallway that connected to the passageway. He looked neat and perfectly put together, as if nothing had happened.

Feigning impeccable surprise upon locking eyes with him, you went straight to meet him. Under the pretext of an affectionate greeting and the relief of having found him, you approached to very discreetly adjust the collar of his shirt and align the knot of his tie. Jungwon caught the hint immediately; he circled your waist with a strategic embrace to disguise the closeness, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, baby. I was starting to believe you’d abandoned me to my fate,” he murmured in a tone loud enough to convince those present, though the sly smile on his lips was only for you.

Your mother, seeing them reunited, hurried them with a gesture of her hands, indicating that they should go out into the garden once and for all.

They were escorted to their special table, where the glasses filled with champagne already awaited them. The final toast proceeded under the warm lighting of the night, with all the guests raising their glasses in blessing for the prosperity and success of the future marriage. Both of you acted with the naturalness and grace expected of you, thanking them with courteous bows.

Yet in the eyes of the guests, you were the perfect picture of high society: two graceful, well-bred heirs destined to be together. But while you raised your glasses and the applause resonated around you, a shared glance over the rim of the crystal and a faint smile held the only truth that mattered to you: the certainty that this engagement was not a cage, but the perfect excuse to belong completely to each other, tonight and for the rest of your lives.

[bellaflippy]

angels dance

pairing ✧˖°. brothersbsf!riki x jays sister!reader (f)

synopsis ✧˖°.  you sneak downstairs to your brothers halloween party dressed as an angel and run into his best friend riki. after jay finds you, riki carries you upstairs and convinces you to stay with him instead of going back to the party. drinks, a blunt, and tension lead to your first real time with the hung, cocky boy who purrs like a puma and chokes you while he claims you as his.

contains ✧˖°. explicit sexual content ; age gap ; inexperienced reader ; hung riki ; cocky riki ; purring/growling kink ; choking ; breath play ; halloween party setting ; smoking weed ; drinking ; brother's best friend ; pet names (angel, doll, ect) ; praise kink ; dirty talk ; rough sex ; protected sex (never socket an unwrapped rocket!!) ; possessive behavior ; aftercare ; emotional begging ; jay finding them ; sexual tension ; grinding/dancing ; oral sex ; fingering ; multiple orgasms ; wc: 6.6k ; i probably missed some.. just read it pls

notes ✧˖°. i actualy fw this SO HARDDD OMGGGG!! this was based off this ask, thank you SO much @orangebloodrikibiggesthyper you truly cooked so hard with this. warning: i DID listen to pnd while writing this... im horny as hell LMFAO. PLS ENJOY :)

you stand in front of your mirror for the third time, turning sideways to check how the skirt falls.

the angel costume had been an impulse buy, something you grabbed at the costume shop two days ago when you realized jay was actually going through with this party.

white lace everywhere, a bodice that hugs your chest more than youre used to, and a skirt that flares out in layers of tulle. it hits mid thigh, shorter than anything your parents let you wear to school, but youre eighteen now. youre an adult. you can wear what you want.

the halo sits on your head, held up by a thin wire headband, and the wings strap around your shoulders, white feathers that brush against your lower back when you move.

you look... you look pretty, actually. pretty and innocent and sweet.

which is exactly why jay is going to lose his mind.

but thats part of the appeal, isnt it? the thought of your older brothers face when he sees you downstairs, in his space, at his party. the way his jaw will tighten and his eyes will narrow. the way hell try to order you back upstairs like youre still twelve.

youre not twelve anymore. youre eighteen, youre legal, and you want to see what a real party looks like.

the music starts around nine, thumping bass that vibrates through your floorboards and into your bones. youve been in your room for two hours, listening to the sounds of people arriving, laughter echoing up the stairs, bottles clinking. you checked your phone forty minutes ago and saw a text from jay

jay

stay upstairs. seriously. dont come down

you didnt reply.

now its ten thirty, and the party is in full swing. you can hear shouting, someone singing badly to a song you recognize, the general chaos of too many people in one space. you take a deep breath, adjust your halo one last time, and open your bedroom door.

the hallway is dark, lit only by the orange string lights jay hung earlier. you pad down the carpet in your white ankle boots, heart hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat. halfway down the stairs, you pause and peek over the railing.

the living room is transformed. the furniture has been pushed against the walls, the coffee table is covered in red cups and bottles, and the floor is packed with bodies. someone brought a fog machine, and it pumps thick white mist that swirls around peoples legs.

the lights are dim, purple and orange and red, casting everything in strange shadows. strobe lights flicker in the corner, making the dancers look like theyre moving in stop motion.

you spot jay near the kitchen entrance, dressed as a vampire with a cape and fake blood dripping from his mouth. hes laughing at something, a cup in his hand, surrounded by his friends. he looks happy, relaxed, completely unaware that youre about to crash his night.

you take the last few stairs quickly, before you can change your mind, and slip into the crowd.

the music is loud, some remix with a heavy bass line that makes your chest vibrate. the air smells like sweat and cheap beer and someones vanilla perfume. you weave through dancing bodies, murmuring "sorry" when you bump into a guy dressed as a zombie, keeping your head down and your wings tucked close.

the kitchen is slightly less crowded, and you make your way toward the counter where someone set up a makeshift bar.

youre not planning to drink much, just enough to look like you belong. you reach for a cup, and thats when you hear it.

"well, well, well."

the voice is low and smooth and comes from directly behind you. you freeze, cup halfway to your lips, and turn slowly.

riki is leaning against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest, looking completely at ease in a pair of black jeans and a black button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

hes drawn stitches across his cheeks and forehead in silver marker, giving him a frankenstein vibe, but the effect is less monster and more... something else. something that makes your stomach flip.

hes twenty now, only two years older than you, but sometimes he seems so much more grown up.

hes been jays best friend since middle school, has practically grown up in your house. youve known him for years, watched him go from a skinny kid to the tall, lean man standing in front of you now.

"riki," you breathe. "hey."

"hey?" he repeats, one eyebrow arching up. he pushes off the fridge and steps closer, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. theyre dark in the dim light, fixed on your face with an intensity that makes you want to squirm. "thats all youve got? hey?"

"what do you want me to say?" you ask, trying to sound confident even as your voice wavers.

"how about explaining why youre down here when jay specifically told you to stay upstairs?" he stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell his cologne, something woodsy and warm.

"how about telling me why youre dressed like that, looking like a little lamb wandering into a wolves den?"

"i look fine," you say, lifting your chin.

"you look..." his gaze drags down your body, slow and deliberate, from your halo to your heeled boots. he takes his time, his eyes lingering on your chest, your waist, your legs. "you look like trouble, angel. like you walked straight out of a dream and into a nightmare."

"i can handle myself," you say, but the words dont sound as certain as you want them to.

"can you?" he reaches out, his fingers brushing your cheek, and you freeze. his touch is warm, calloused, and he traces the edge of your jaw with his thumb. "look at you. all dressed in white. pure and sweet and innocent. do you have any idea what half the guys down here are thinking right now? do you know what they want to do to a pretty little thing like you?"

"riki," you whisper, your face heating.

"you shouldnt be here," he says softly, his thumb moving to trace your lower lip. he makes a low sound in his throat, almost like a purr, pleased and rumbly. "jay would lose his mind. hes already looking for you, you know. asked me ten minutes ago if id seen his sister. said he saw someone in white near the stairs and got worried."

panic spikes through you. "he saw me?"

"he saw someone," riki corrects, his hand sliding down to cup your jaw. "but he doesnt know it was you. not yet. hes making the rounds, checking the bathrooms. youve got maybe five minutes before he figures it out."

"what do i do?" you ask, your voice small.

riki studies you for a long moment, his thumb stroking your cheek. then he sighs, a soft sound that seems to come from deep in his chest. "come with me," he says, taking your hand. his fingers thread through yours, easy and confident. "ill keep you safe. but you have to do what i say. can you do that, doll? can you be good for me?"

the petname sends a shiver down your spine. "yes," you whisper. "ill be good."

"thats my girl," he murmurs, and that low purr rumbles in his throat again. he leads you through the crowd.

he keeps you close, his body shielding you from view, his hand tight on yours. he navigates the party like he knows every corner, every hiding spot, pulling you into the small space between the fridge and the wall where the shadows are thickest. from here, you can see the kitchen entrance, can watch jay as he moves through the room, his vampire cape swirling around him.

"hes going to find me," you whisper, pressing yourself against the wall.

"not if i can help it," riki says. hes standing in front of you, his arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. "but if he does, you let me do the talking. you dont say a word. you just look pretty and keep your mouth shut. can you do that, sweetheart?"

"yes," you breathe, looking up at him.

"good girl," he says, and that purring sound vibrates again, deeper this time. his eyes drop to your mouth.

he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "you know," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, "you shouldve dressed up as a doll instead of an angel. wouldve suited you better."

you pull back slightly, confused. "what?"

"a doll," he repeats, his gaze roaming over your face. "all pretty and fragile, waiting for someone to pick you up and play with you. thats what you look like, isnt it? a little doll that wandered into the wrong toy box. my pretty little doll."

the words send another shiver through you, and youre not sure if its from the air conditioning or the way hes looking at you. "thats creepy, riki."

"is it?" he laughs, a low sound that you feel more than hear, almost like a growl. "maybe. but im not wrong. you look like you need someone to take care of you. someone to keep you safe and put you back on the shelf when the games over."

"and thats you?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the music. "youre going to take care of me?"

"if you let me," he says, his eyes serious now. "if you trust me."

before you can answer, jays voice cuts through the noise, calling for heeseung, and riki blinks, pulling back slightly. "hes getting closer," he murmurs. "stay here. dont move."

he pushes away from the wall and steps into the kitchen, intercepting jay before he can get too close to your hiding spot. you cant hear what theyre saying over the music, but you see jay gesture sharply, his expression frustrated, and riki nod, clapping him on the shoulder. after a minute, jay turns and walks back toward the living room, and riki returns to you, his expression unreadable.

"what did you tell him?" you ask.

"told him i saw you upstairs, in your room, asleep," riki says, taking your hand again. "bought you some time. but hes suspicious. hes going to check eventually."

"what do we do?"

riki looks down at you, his gaze softening slightly. "we get you out of here. come on."

he leads you through the kitchen, but instead of going toward the back door, he turns toward the living room. "riki," you hiss, pulling back. "jay is in there."

"exactly," he says. "hes looking in the bathrooms, the porch, the garage. he wont expect you to be in the middle of the crowd. sometimes the best hiding spot is right in plain sight."

he pulls you into the mass of dancing bodies, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, shielding you from view. you can feel his chest against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he sways with you to the music.

"just relax," he murmurs in your ear. "look like youre having fun. like you belong here."

you try to do as he says, letting your body move with his, your hips swaying to the beat. his hands stay on your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against the fabric of your skirt. you feel dizzy, overwhelmed by the music and the heat and the feel of him pressed against you. you can feel something hard against your lower back, thick and heavy even through his jeans, and your face heats as you realize what it is.

"thats it, angel," he whispers, grinding slightly against you, letting you feel how big he is. "just like that. youre doing so good."

you lose track of time, dancing with him, his body guiding yours. he gets you a drink, something pink and sweet in a plastic cup, and you sip it while he keeps his arms around you, his presence a wall between you and the rest of the world. he calls you doll when he thinks youre being cute, angel when he thinks youre being naive, sweetheart when hes being tender. the names blend together, wrapping around you like a blanket.

at one point, he spins you around to face him, his hands on your hips, and you look up at him, breathless. "youre beautiful," he says, his voice barely audible over the bass. "you know that? been staring at you all night. couldnt help myself."

"riki," you breathe, your heart hammering.

"my pretty little doll," he murmurs, his forehead dropping to yours. "my sweet angel. what are you doing to me?"

you dont get a chance to answer, because thats when you hear it.

"riki."

the voice cracks through the noise like a whip, and you both freeze. jay stands at the edge of the dance floor, his vampire cape slightly askew, his eyes wide and then narrowing dangerously as he takes in the scene. you pressed against riki, his hands on your hips, your empty cup on the floor beside you.

"oh, shit," you breathe.

"jay," riki says, his voice calm, almost lazy. he doesnt move his hands from your waist. "whats up?"

"whats up?" jay strides across the floor, ignoring the people who scatter out of his way. he stops in front of you, his jaw tight. "ive been looking everywhere for you. heeseung said he saw someone in white near the stairs an hour ago. i knew it was you. i told you to stay upstairs."

"i'm sorry," you start, but jay isn't listening.

"and you," he whips around to face riki, his voice rising. "i told you. i specifically told you. if you see her, if you see my sister at this party, you bring her upstairs. immediately. thats what you said youd do."

the area around you has gone quiet, people watching the scene unfold with the morbid fascination of drunk partygoers sensing drama.

riki straightens up, finally dropping his hands from your waist. he looks at jay, then at you, then back at jay. "what do you think im doing?" he asks, his voice still infuriatingly calm.

"youre standing here dancing with her!" jay explodes. "shes drunk, riki. look at her. and youre just... youre just..."

"i'm watching her," riki says. "keeping her safe. which is more than i can say for you, since you let her wander down here in the first place."

jay opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. "just... just take her upstairs. please. throw her in her room or something. i can't deal with this right now."

"gladly," riki says.

before you can process what's happening, he moves. one second hes standing beside you, the next hes bending down and his shoulder is hitting your stomach. you let out a shriek as he lifts you, his arm wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady as he straightens up, dangling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"riki!" you gasp, your face burning as you realize your skirt has ridden up, your ass practically hanging out in your white lace panties. "put me down!"

"nope," he says, his hand settling possessively on the back of your thigh, his fingers dangerously close to where your skirt ends. "orders are orders."

"riki, please," you whimper, squirming, but he just tightens his grip.

"stop moving, doll," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. "unless you want everyone to see whats under that skirt."

you go still, mortified, as riki turns and carries you through the crowd. you can hear jay calling after him, something about locking you in, but the words blur together with the music and the blood rushing in your ears. riki's shoulder digs into your stomach with every step, his hand warm and firm on your thigh, and youre dizzy from the alcohol and the upside down position and the feel of his fingers so close to...

"here we are," he says, and then youre being lowered, your feet touching the floor of your bedroom. you stumble, grabbing his arm for balance, and he steadies you with a hand on your waist.

the door clicks shut behind him.

you stand there, breathing hard, your halo askew and your wings bent. your skirt is still hiked up, and you hastily tug it down, your face flaming. anger bubbles up in your chest, hot and sudden.

"why would you do that?" you demand, your voice shaking. "you said he wouldnt come over. you said wed be safe down there. i was having fun, riki. i was actually having fun for once."

riki blinks, surprised by your outburst. "y/n..."

"no," you say, backing away from him. "you promised. you said youd keep me safe and let me stay at the party. but the second jay told you to do something, you just... you just obeyed. you didnt even fight for me. you just picked me up like a child and carried me away."

"thats not fair," he says quietly.

"isnt it?" you cross your arms over your chest, your eyes pricking with tears. "i thought you were different. i thought you actually understood. but youre just like him. you just want to control me too."

riki is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "relax," he says softly. "wouldnt you rather have fun with me alone up here, instead of downstairs and being cautious of what youre doing?"

the question catches you off guard. "what?"

"wouldnt you rather be up here," he repeats, stepping closer, "away from all those people, away from your brother watching your every move, away from having to hide and sneak around... just you and me? wouldnt you rather that, doll? no rules. no jay. just us."

you stare at him, your anger faltering. "youre staying?"

"if you want me to," he says, stopping in front of you. "i can go back down. can tell jay im checking on you, make sure youre asleep. or..." he reaches out, his fingers tracing your jaw. "or i can stay. keep you company. make sure you dont get lonely. show you how much fun we can have, just the two of us."

your breath catches. "youd do that?"

"for you?" he pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. "id do anything for you, angel. havent you figured that out yet?"

you stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. the anger is gone now, replaced by something warmer, heavier. "okay," you breathe. "okay. stay."

his smile is slow, spreading across his face like honey. he makes that purring sound again, low and pleased. "thats my girl," he murmurs. "thats my good girl."

he pulls something from his back pocket with one hand and pulls out two small bottles of pink lemonade, the kind that comes in the glass bottles. then he reaches into his other pocket and produces a small baggie, the contents dark and pungent.

you eyes widen. "riki. is that...?"

"just a little something to help you relax," he says, his voice casual. "you ever smoked before, princess?"

"no," you admit. "ive been around it. but i never... i was always too scared."

"scared of what?"

"of losing control," you say quietly. "of doing something stupid."

riki is quiet for a moment. then he squeezes you gently. "you wont do anything stupid," he says. "not with me here. ill take care of you. i wont let anything bad happen. you trust me?"

you think about it. you think about all the years hes been in your life, all the times hes been kind to you, protective of you. you think about the way he looks at you, like youre precious, like youre his.

"yes," you whisper. "i trust you."

"good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "thats my sweet girl. well start slow, okay? just a little. enough to take the edge off."

he finds your lighter in your desk drawer, the one you use for candles, and rolls the blunt with practiced fingers. he lights it, the tip glowing orange, and holds it to your lips.

"just inhale a little," he instructs. "hold it. let it out slow."

you do as he says, the smoke burning your throat, making you cough. he laughs softly, a warm sound that vibrates against your back, and rubs circles on your arm.

"easy," he murmurs. "try again. smaller this time."

the second hit is easier, and by the third, youre holding the smoke in your lungs like he showed you, letting it out in a slow stream toward the ceiling. he takes a hit himself, his chest expanding against your back, and then offers it to you again.

"time for a drink," he says, opening one of the bottles and handing it to you. "thisll help with the burn."

you sip, the sweet liquid coating your throat, and he opens his own bottle. the two of you pass the blunt back and forth, sipping your drinks, and slowly the tension drains from your body. you feel floaty, warm, safe in the circle of his arms.

"how you feeling, angel?" he asks, his lips brushing your ear.

"good," you sigh, your head lolling back against his shoulder. "really good."

"yeah?" his hand slides down your arm, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "you look good. look relaxed. look pretty."

"you think im pretty?" you ask, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

"i think youre beautiful," he says, his voice serious. "think youre the prettiest girl ive ever seen. been thinking about you for years, you know. watching you grow up. waiting."

"waiting for what?"

"for you to be ready," he says. his hand moves to your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. "for you to want me like i want you."

your breath catches. "you want me?"

"so bad," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he makes a low growling sound, like a puma staking claim. "so fucking bad, doll. you have no idea. seeing you tonight, in this little outfit... do you know how hard it was not to drag you out of that party the second i saw you? how hard it was to keep my hands off you?"

"why did you?" you ask, turning your head to look at him. "why didnt you just...?"

"because youre jays sister," he says, his eyes meeting yours. "because youre younger. because you deserve better than some guy pawing at you in a dark corner. but mostly..." he swallows hard. "mostly because i wanted you to choose me. not because you were drunk or scared or caught up in the moment. but because you really wanted me."

"i do want you," you whisper, the words coming out braver than you feel. "i choose you, riki. i want you."

his eyes darken, his hand tightening on your thigh. "you dont know what youre saying, baby. youre high. youre drunk."

"i know exactly what im saying," you insist, turning more fully in his lap so youre facing him, your knees on either side of his hips. "i want you, riki. ive wanted you for so long. please."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling rapidly. then he groans, a sound torn from deep in his chest, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a kiss.

its not gentle. its not sweet. its hungry, desperate, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you, his fingers tangling in your hair, knocking your halo to the floor. you whimper into his mouth, your hands clutching his shoulders, and he growls, standing up with you in his arms.

he carries you the three steps to your bed and drops you onto it, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress. he kisses you until you cant breathe, his hands roaming over your body, pushing your wings aside, tugging at the zipper of your costume.

"wait," you gasp as he drags his mouth down your neck. "riki, wait. ive never... i mean, i have, but only once. and it was... it wasnt good. i dont really know what im doing. im sorry."

he pauses immediately, lifting his head to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen, but his expression is soft. tender. "hey," he says, his voice gentle. he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "hey, its okay. its okay, princess. well go slow. ill take care of you. i promise."

"okay," you breathe, your heart slowing slightly. "okay. just... tell me what to do."

"ill tell you everything," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "ill show you. just relax for me. can you do that? can you relax and let me make you feel good?"

"yes," you whisper. "yes, please."

"good girl," he says, his smile sweet. "such a good girl for me."

he sits back on his heels and slowly, carefully, peels your costume off you. the zipper slides down, the fabric parting, and he lifts it over your head, leaving you in just your white lace bra and panties. his breath hitches, his gaze raking over you with something like reverence.

"look at you," he breathes. "fuck, baby. look at you."

you try to cover yourself, embarrassed, but he catches your wrists, pinning them gently to your sides. "dont hide from me," he says softly. "youre perfect. so perfect. let me look at you, angel. please."

you let your arms fall, letting him see you, and his eyes darken even more. he leans down, pressing kisses to your collarbone, the swell of your breast, the valley between them. he unhooks your bra with one hand, tossing it aside, and then his mouth is on your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh until youre arching off the bed, moaning his name.

"riki, please," you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking friction.

"what do you want, sweetheart?" he asks, his hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. "tell me. use your words."

"i want you inside me," you gasp, the words shocking you even as you say them. "please, riki. i need you. i need you so bad."

he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he makes that purring sound again, deep and rumbling, vibrating against your skin. "fuck. okay. okay, baby. ive got you."

he strips quickly, his shirt and jeans and boxers hitting the floor in a pile, and you stare, your mouth going dry. hes beautiful, all lean muscle and smooth skin, and between his legs... your eyes go wide. hes huge, thick and long and heavy against his stomach, standing hard and proud. youve never seen anything like it. the guy youd been with before was nothing compared to this.

riki catches you staring and smirks, that cocky grin youve seen him give jay when he wins at video games. "like what you see, doll?" he asks, his voice dripping with confidence. he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly, showing off. "yeah, im big. bigger than you expected, isnt that right?"

you nod, unable to tear your eyes away. "riki, i dont know if... if youll fit..."

"ill fit," he says, his voice low and sure. "trust me, angel. ill make you take every inch. gonna stretch you out so good. gonna make you feel me for days." he crawls back over you, his cock dragging against your thigh, hot and heavy. "you want that? want me to fill you up? make you feel how big i am inside you?"

"yes," you whimper, your face flaming at his words. "please."

he reaches out tentatively, your fingers wrapping around him, and he hisses, his hips jerking forward. hes thick in your hand, impossibly so, and you stroke him slowly, marveling at the size of him.

"careful, doll," he grits out, but hes smirking, clearly loving the attention. "been dreaming about this for too long. wont last if you keep that up. especially not with your pretty little hands on me like that."

"sorry," you whisper, pulling your hand back.

"no," he says, catching your wrist. "dont be sorry. touch me. i want you to touch me. just... go slow. gotta get you ready first. dont want to hurt you."

you wrap your hand around him again, stroking slowly, watching his face. he groans, his eyes falling closed, that purr rumbling in his chest.

"thats it," he breathes. "just like that, baby. youre doing so good."

he lets you explore for a few minutes, his hips rocking into your touch, his breath coming faster. then he gently removes your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm.

"lay back," he says softly. "spread your legs for me, angel. let me see you."

you do as he says, lying back against your pillows, your thighs falling open. he kneels between them, his hands sliding up your legs, his thumbs hooking in your panties. he drags them down slowly, his eyes locked on yours, and tosses them aside.

"beautiful," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your most intimate place. "so beautiful. so perfect. youre wet for me, arent you, doll? wet and ready?"

"yes," you whimper, your face flaming. "please, riki. please touch me."

"im going to do more than touch you," he says, his voice rough. he lowers his head, his tongue dragging up your center, and you cry out, your back bowing off the bed. he eats you like hes starving, his tongue circling your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, curling to find that spot that makes you see stars. he adds another finger, stretching you, preparing you for his size.

"riki, riki, please," you chant, your hands fisting in his hair, your hips rolling against his mouth.

"you taste so sweet," he murmurs against you, the vibration making you gasp. "just like i knew you would. my little angel. my pretty doll. my perfect baby."

he keeps going, his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue relentless, until youre teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling. "gonna come," you warn, your voice high and breathy.

"come for me," he commands, his fingers curling harder, his tongue flicking faster. "come on my tongue, doll. let me taste you. give it to me, sweetheart."

you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. he doesnt stop, working you through it, his mouth gentling as you come down, his hands stroking your thighs, your hips, anywhere he can reach.

when you finally go limp, he crawls up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "good girl," he whispers. "so good for me. you did so good, baby. now youre ready for me. ready to take all of me."

"please," you whimper, your hands tugging at his shoulders. "please, riki. i need you inside me. please."

he reaches over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans and pulling out his wallet. he extracts a foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth, and you watch, fascinated, as he rolls the condom down his length. even sheathed, he looks massive, and a flutter of nervousness goes through you.

"you sure?" he asks, positioning himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. "tell me if it hurts. well stop. we can stop anytime, okay?"

"i dont want to stop," you say, wrapping your legs around his waist. "i want you. please."

he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch. hes big, so big, filling you up until you feel like you might split apart. you gasp, your nails digging into his back, and he pauses, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his forehead.

"okay?" he asks, his voice strained. "fuck, youre tight. so fucking tight around me, doll."

"yes," you breathe. "dont stop. please dont stop. youre so big, riki..."

"i know," he says, that cocky smirk back on his face. "feels good though, doesnt it? feels good to be stretched out on my cock? tell me how it feels, baby. tell me how big i am inside you."

"so big," you whimper, your head falling back. "youre so big. i can feel you everywhere."

"thats right," he groans, starting to move. "gonna make you take it all. gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name."

he starts moving, slow thrusts that gradually speed up as you relax around him. he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, and you moan, your head falling back against the pillow.

"there?" he asks, his voice rough.

"there," you confirm, your hands gripping his arms. "right there, riki. harder. please, harder."

he obliges, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with force that makes the bed creak. the room fills with the sounds of skin on skin, your moans, his grunts, the wet slide of him moving inside you. he makes that low purring growl with every thrust, the sound rumbling in his chest like a puma claiming its mate.

"you feel so good," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "so tight. so perfect. fuck, y/n. been dreaming about this. about you. my pretty little doll. my sweet angel. you taking my cock so good, baby. look at you. look how well you take me."

his hand finds your throat, his fingers wrapping around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just holding, and you gasp, your inner muscles fluttering around him.

"like that?" he asks, his thumb stroking your pulse point. "you like my hand here, baby?"

"yes," you whimper, the feeling of being held, being controlled, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "please. a little tighter, please."

his fingers tighten, just enough to restrict your airflow, and the world narrows to the point where hes touching you, where hes inside you, where hes holding you. you feel safe, cherished, owned. he growls, low and possessive, the sound vibrating through both of you.

"youre mine," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm. "this tight little pussy is mine now. say it. say youre mine, doll. say you belong to me."

"i'm yours," you gasp, your second orgasm building fast, coiling tight in your belly. "riki, i'm yours. please. please, i need to come. please let me come."

"come with me," he demands, his hand tightening just a fraction more. he makes that purring sound again, deep and constant now, like a cat thats found its favorite spot. "come on my cock, baby. now. squeeze me tight. let me feel you."

you explode, your vision whiting out, your whole body convulsing around him. he keeps fucking you through it, his hand finally leaving your throat to grip your hip, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. he thrusts twice more, three times, and then hes coming too, his head thrown back, a growl tearing from his throat as he spills into the condom.

he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot and fast against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant thump of the party downstairs.

"are you okay?" he finally asks, his voice muffled against your skin. he lifts his head, his eyes searching yours. "did i hurt you? was i too rough?"

"no," you say, your voice hoarse. you touch your throat, feeling the phantom pressure of his fingers. "that was... that was perfect. you were perfect."

he smiles, soft and sweet, and presses a kiss to your forehead. he purrs, low and content, nuzzling against your neck. "good," he murmurs. "thats good, angel. you did so good for me. took me so well. my good girl."

he pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash can by your desk. he finds his boxers and pulls them on, then grabs your discarded costume, using the soft fabric to gently clean between your thighs. you blush, trying to close your legs, but he tsks, his hands gentle but firm.

"let me take care of you," he says softly. "you did so good for me. let me make you feel good after. thats my job, isnt it? taking care of my girl?"

when hes finished, he tucks you into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. he finds your discarded halo on the floor and places it on your nightstand, then sits on the edge of your bed, his hand stroking your hair.

"you should sleep," he says quietly. "youve had a long night."

"are you leaving?" you ask, your heart sinking.

"i should," he says, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. "jay will notice im gone. hell ask questions. i should go back down, make an appearance, then slip out."

your heart sinks. "no," you say, reaching out to grab his hand. "please. dont go. stay with me. i dont want to be alone."

"y/n," he sighs, his expression conflicted. "baby, i cant. your brother will..."

"please," you whisper, and your voice cracks, tears suddenly pricking at your eyes. the alcohol and the weed and the aftershocks of your orgasm have left you raw, vulnerable. "please, riki. i dont want to be alone. please stay. just until i fall asleep. please."

he stares at you, his jaw working, his hand tightening on yours. he makes a low sound, almost a whine, conflicted and wanting. "fuck," he mutters under his breath, his eyes closing. "fuck. youre killing me, you know that?"

"please," you whisper again, a tear slipping down your cheek.

he opens his eyes, and the look in them is so tender, so full of longing, that it takes your breath away. "ill just tell your brother you were tipsy and couldnt sleep alone," he mumbles, more to himself than to you. "hell understand. he has to understand."

he stands, pulling back the covers and climbing in beside you. you immediately curl into him, your head on his chest, your arm draped over his waist. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. he purrs, low and steady, the vibration rumbling through his chest against your ear.

"thank you," you whisper, your eyes already drifting shut.

"anything for you, angel," he murmurs, his hand stroking slow circles on your back. the purring continues, a constant rumble of contentment. "anything for my girl. go to sleep now. ive got you. im right here."

"promise?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

"promise," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair. he growls softly, possessive and satisfied. "im not going anywhere. ill be here when you wake up. i promise."

you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat and his purring, safe in his arms, dreaming of halos and hands around your throat and a boy who finally made you his. the party rages on downstairs, but up here, in your little room, with riki holding you close, youve never felt more at home.

⋆˚✿˖°

an ✧˖°. soo.... howd we like it :) I LOVEDDD WRITING THISSS, i love me a good party setting lol. reblogs are always welcome!!! feedback is also greatly appreciated. if you enjoyed this story and would like to see something specific, dont be afraid to send an ask! :)

[heevangell]

You’re Dripping on Me - lhs

-‎“You’re dripping down my hand.”-

SUMMARY: in which your boyfriend spends half the car ride ignoring you… until he slides his hand between your legs and realizes you’re soaked.

CONTENTS: MDNI (18+) * car sex * fingering * creampie * * teasing * smut * slight exhibitionism *

p.taglist : @heelvcr @kittywonwon @jenlunes @heevnly @d0llddeonu @hoonieslove @hevxnsgurl

‎The highway was mostly empty, the kind of late-night quiet that only existed when everyone else had already gone to sleep. Jake was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching for his energy drink. Riki sat in the front passenger seat with his knees pulled up, scrolling through his phone and throwing random comments into the conversation. Heeseung sat beside you in the back, wearing a black hoodie, his black hair slightly messy.

‎They had been talking for almost an hour straight.

‎Something about an old video game, then a stupid story, then Riki doing an exaggerated impression that made both Jake and Heeseung laugh. You sat there with your legs crossed, trying to look interested, but your mind was elsewhere.

‎Specifically, on the fact that you were already wet.

‎It had started small. Heeseung’s hand rested on your thigh under the hoodie he had thrown over both of you earlier because the AC was too strong. Then his thumb started moving in slow circles. Just enough to make your body react.

‎Now it was a problem.

‎You shifted in your seat for the third time. Heeseung didn’t notice. He was too busy leaning forward between the front seats, arguing with Riki about whether a certain scene in a game was fair or not.

‎“I’m telling you, it was broken,” Riki said.

‎“You’re just mad you lost,” Heeseung replied, voice light and amused.

‎You pressed your lips together and subtly tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie. He glanced at you for half a second, gave a small “hm?” and then turned right back to the conversation when Jake started laughing.

‎You stared at the side of his face.

‎Really?

‎Another few minutes passed. His hand was still on your thigh, but his attention was completely on his friends. You were getting wetter by the second while he was busy debating game mechanics. The unfairness of it made you both annoyed and more turned on.

‎You tried again. This time you placed your hand over his and slowly guided it higher. Heeseung finally looked down at your lap, then up at your face. In the dim light his expression was hard to read, but you saw the exact moment he understood.

‎His eyebrows lifted slightly.

‎You gave him a pointed look that said finally.

‎A small, crooked smile tugged at his mouth. He leaned back in his seat, still facing forward like he was listening to Jake, but his hand turned under yours and pressed firmly between your legs. The moment he felt how soaked you already were through your underwear, his smile widened just a little.

‎You sucked in a quiet breath.

‎Riki was in the middle of a loud story about almost missing a flight. Jake was laughing. Neither of them was looking back.

‎Heeseung, still watching the front seats from the corner of his eye, slowly pulled your underwear to the side and slid two fingers along your wetness. You gripped the edge of the seat. He didn’t rush. He traced you leisurely, spreading the slickness around, before pushing one finger inside.

‎Your thighs tensed.

‎Heeseung made a low humming sound like he was reacting to something Riki said, but his finger curled at the same time. You bit the inside of your cheek hard.

‎“You’re actually insane for that,” Jake was saying to Riki.

‎“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Riki replied.

‎Heeseung added a second finger and started moving them in slow, deliberate strokes. You turned your face toward his shoulder, half-hiding against the soft fabric of his hoodie, trying to keep your breathing under control. He smelled like clean laundry and the faint cologne he always wore. It made everything worse.

‎He leaned in slightly, lips close to your temple, and whispered so only you could hear:

‎“You’ve been like this for a while, huh?”

‎You didn’t answer. You couldn’t without risking a sound.

‎Heeseung chuckled quietly under his breath and kept going, fingers thrusting deeper now, the wet sound thankfully covered by the road noise and Riki’s dramatic storytelling. His thumb found your clit and started rubbing lazy circles. Your hips twitched despite yourself.

‎Jake turned the music up a little. Riki started singing along off-key on purpose. Heeseung used the noise to push his fingers faster, curling them against the spot that made your toes curl in your shoes. You grabbed his wrist under the hoodie, not sure if you were trying to stop him or keep him there.

‎He turned his head just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark with amusement and heat.

‎“Quiet...baby” he mouthed, almost teasing.

‎You glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the way your lips parted when he pressed harder. He looked far too pleased with himself for someone fingering his girlfriend in the backseat while his friends sat a few feet away.

‎The conversation in the front continued. Something about camping food. Something about who would sleep where. You barely heard any of it. All you could focus on was the slow movement of his fingers and the way he kept glancing at the rearview mirror to make sure no one was watching.

‎You were so wet it was almost embarrassing. Heeseung clearly noticed. He leaned in one more time, voice barely audible:

‎“You’re dripping down my hand.”

‎Your face burned. He only smiled, pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, and kept fucking you with his fingers like they had all the time in the world.

‎Jake yawned loudly in the front seat.

‎“Y’all good back there?” he asked casually.

‎Heeseung’s fingers stopped moving for half a second, still buried inside you.

‎“Yeah,” he answered, voice completely normal. “We’re good.”

‎Then he curled them again, deeper, and you had to press your face harder into his shoulder to stay silent.

‎Jake lasted another forty minutes before his yawns started coming every few sentences. Riki held out longer, still throwing random comments into the quiet car, but even his voice eventually got slower and thicker. At some point the music was turned down low, and the only real sounds left were the tires on the highway and the occasional soft snore from the front.

‎Heeseung’s fingers had never fully stopped.

‎He had slowed down when the conversation died, keeping two fingers inside you in lazy, shallow movements just to feel how wet you stayed. Every time you tried to close your legs or shift away, he pressed his palm firmly against you and kept you open under the cover of his hoodie. Your forehead stayed against his shoulder. Your breathing had long since turned uneven.

Jake starts getting really tired.

He says “I’m gonna pull over for a bit, I can’t keep my eyes open.” He parks safely on the side of the highway.‎

When Jake’s head finally tipped against the window and Riki’s phone slipped onto his lap, Heeseung waited a few more minutes in silence. Then he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

‎“They’re out.”

‎You lifted your head slightly. Both of them were genuinely asleep — Jake breathing deeply, Riki’s mouth slightly open. The car was dark except for the soft glow of the dashboard.

‎Heeseung pulled his fingers out slowly. You made a quiet, involuntary sound at the loss. He wiped them on the inside of your thigh, then reached down and tugged his sweatpants just low enough. In the dim light you saw how hard he already was.

‎“Come here, baby” he whispered.

‎You hesitated only a second before carefully climbing onto his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, the oversized hoodie covering most of both of you. Heeseung held your hips steady with both hands, guiding you down. The second the head of his cock pressed against your soaked entrance, he exhaled sharply through his nose.

‎“Fuck… you’re still this wet.”

‎You sank down onto him in one slow movement. The stretch made your mouth fall open against his neck. Heeseung’s hands tightened on your waist as you took him all the way. For a moment neither of you moved. You could feel him throbbing inside you.

‎Then he started guiding your hips in small, careful rolls.

‎It was different from usual — quieter and more controlled. Every thrust had to stay short so the car wouldn’t rock. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, one hand gripping the front of his hoodie, trying to keep every sound trapped in your throat. Heeseung’s breathing grew heavier against your temple. His fingers dug into your ass under the hoodie as he pulled you down to meet each upward push of his hips.

‎“You feel so good,” he whispered, voice strained. “Taking me so well while they’re right there…”

‎You clenched around him at the words. He let out a low, almost silent groan and fucked up into you a little harder. The wet sound of it was soft but filthy in the quiet car. Your thighs started trembling.

‎“Come on, babygirl” he murmured against your hair. “I’ve got you. Just stay quiet.”

‎The orgasm hit you hard and sudden. You bit down on the fabric of his hoodie to stay silent, pulsing around him as your whole body shook. Heeseung kept you moving through it, breathing roughly against your ear, until he suddenly pulled you down flush against him and came with a muted, shaky exhale, spilling deep inside you.

‎For a while you just stayed there, forehead against his shoulder, both of you trying to catch your breath without making noise. Heeseung’s hand stroked slowly up and down your back under the hoodie. He pressed a lazy kiss to the side of your head.

‎“You okay?” he whispered.

‎You nodded against him, still too wrecked to form words.

‎Eventually he helped you shift off his lap and fixed your clothes with careful hands. You ended up curled against his side, his arm around you, the hoodie draped over both of you again like nothing had happened. The low hum of the car and the warmth of his body made your eyes heavy almost immediately.

‎You fell asleep to the feeling of his fingers slowly running through your hair.

‎Some time later, the sky outside had started turning a faint gray.

‎You woke up to the sound of Riki’s voice, rough from sleep.

‎“…I’m just saying, I had a very interesting dream.”

‎Jake made a sleepy noise from the driver’s seat. “What?”

‎“I swear I heard something,” Riki continued, clearly amused. “Like… wet sounds. And whispering. Very suspicious for a family-friendly car ride.”

‎You kept your eyes closed, face still pressed against Heeseung’s chest, praying the heat in your cheeks wasn’t visible. Heeseung’s body stayed relaxed under you, but you felt the quiet huff of laughter that moved his chest.

‎“You’re hearing things,” Heeseung said, voice calm and slightly rough from sleep. “Go back to sleep, Riki.”

‎“Mm. Sure.” Riki yawned. “But if the backseat is sticky, I’m not taking the blame.”

‎Jake snorted. “Why would the backseat be sticky?”

‎“I’m just saying,” Riki replied innocently.

‎Heeseung’s hand, hidden under the hoodie, gave your waist a slow, secret squeeze. You pinched his side in revenge. He only smiled into your hair, completely unbothered, as the car kept driving toward the campsite and the first light of morning spilled across the highway.

‎

[hungwonniess]

KISS IT BETTER!

synopsis — you teach your shy childhood best friend how to kiss and newsflash.. he falls in love with you

word count — 2.8k

caution! this work contains — non-idol au, crack, romance, fem!reader, fluff, making out, and not proofread properly

a/n: i love how red this post is omgg and this is the fic from the poll :3

It was never meant to go this far.

Back when you were a toddler, your neighbor also recently gave birth to a kid.

Your parents pushed for the both of you to become friends. You didn’t think anything of it really. You couldn’t think much anyway, you were like three years old.

The neighbor’s kid, Jungwon, was incredibly shy at first.

It seriously took months for him to show his true personality. Jungwon always had been an outgoing person only with people he trusted.

He was one year younger than you, but was smart enough to be in your grade.

Jungwon was somewhat shy with everybody else but you and his and your parents. He stuck to you at school like a bug.

Your parents signed you up for classes Jungwon liked so he wouldn’t be without you.

Naturally, you both were good friends.

You both always joked about marrying each other when you both grew up.

But as puberty hit, you two naturally weren’t as close anymore. You had more friends so you didn’t hang out with him every day like you once did.

Jungwon never said anything, but it made his heart twist painfully at how easily you forgit about him.

So he tried to forget about you.

But he couldn’t.

You were like a stain in a cloth that would not come out no matter how many times it was washed.

Jungwon was still shy as always, but he was attracting girls now. He was never ugly but his shyness and the way he clung to you made people hesitate.

After you two naturally drifted apart, he became more popular.

It didn’t numb the hollow feeling in his chest.

It wasn’t ridiculous to say that Yang Jungwon was obsessed with you. Infatuated if you will.

He’s liked you ever since he could remember.

He hoped you still felt the same way, but with how popular and cool you were, he figured you wouldn’t like a shy guy like him.

He accepted that and lived his life.

But when you suddenly called him, he ran for his phone and answered it.

“Hey Jungwon, it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, it has been..”

“We should hang, right?”

Jungwon cleared his schedule the moment you mentioned meeting up once on the phone.

“..Yes.” Jungwon nodded even though you couldn’t see him or his flushed cheeks.

“I missed you so much,” Jungwon admitted.

You gave a soft chuckle that made Jungwon’s stomach flutter. “You can catch me up on what you’ve been doing.” You said.

Jungwon froze. He hadn’t been doing shit this entire time.

He’s just been trying to go out and make new friends, but nobody fills the hole you left when you two distanced.

“Yeah,” Jungwon said.

“Tell you what, I’ll come see you tomorrow. You’re visiting your parents arent you?” You asked.

Jungwon’s heart raced. “Wait- really? Yeah, I’m at my parent’s house.” You could hear the excitement in his voice and it made you chuckle.

“Yeah I’ll come and see you,” You hummed.

Jungwon smiled and waited until you eventually hung up on him to go to sleep. He slept in his childhood bedroom and stared at the ceiling.

The memories you both had in here were precious to him. You were framed in there and everything.

As Jungwon lied against his bedsheets, he stared at the ceiling. Wondering if you ever even thought about him as much as he thought of you.

He sighed and looked at the stuffed animal you bought him on his fourteenth birthday.

Jungwon smiled at the stuffed animal and then looked back at the ceiling before closing his eyes shut.

—

Jungwon woke up to the sound of his early alarm. He always got excited meeting up with you and woke up early to get ready.

He turned it off and sat up in his bed.

Jungwon turned on the shower and slipped off his clothes.

He stepped in the shower, letting out a soft wince at the cold water but forced himself in and waited for the water to get hotter for him to actually bathe.

Once he finished up, he brushed his teeth and applied skin care.

As he finished up, he saw a text from you. “I’m outside, let’s go out.” It read. He smiled and grabbed a jacket in case it gets cold wherever you both end up at.

He saw you outside talking with his parents and his heart fluttered as he walked over.

“Y/N,” Jungwon smiled as he walked up to you.

“Hey,” You patted his shoulder. “You got a haircut,” You pointed out.

Jungwon smiled bashfully while his parents exchanged knowing looks accompanied with elbow nudges.

“Aren’t you gonna get married? You said you both would in elementary,” Jungwon’s mother joked.

Jungwon’s face burned red and you just laughed, “We did say that, didn’t we?” You glanced at Jungwon.

Jungwon just nodded, “Well we should get going now.”

His parents nodded and walked inside the house while waving goodbyes and you and Jungwon got in your car.

You sat in the drivers seat while Jungwon sat in the passenger.

“So what have you been up to?” You asked as you drove out of his parent’s driveway while looking back behind you to check if anyone or anything was behind the car.

“Nothing,” Jungwon admitted.

You chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by that answer.”

You began driving and you glanced at Jungwon. “Where do you wanna go right now?”

It was a crisp three in the afternoon and the sky was still bright. Jungwon didn’t do shit so he just shrugged and looked back at you.

“Okay.. let’s go going to an arcade,” You suggested and Jungwon quickly nodded.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” He said.

So that’s what you both did.

Jungwon beat you in multiple rounds of air hockey and you pushed him into a couple walking by, you and him went to laser-tag where you scared him so many times he probably pissed himself, and then you both went to eat some shit ass arcade pizza.

“So you can function outside of lectures and your bed,” You concluded while taking a sip of Jungwon’s chocolate milkshake.

He let you drink from his straw and couldn’t help but smile as you did.

“Don’t underestimate me,” He smiled softly.

“Hard not to,” You replied as you finished you slice of pizza.

He didn’t reply and instead he finished his own slice of pizza. He had already downed a soda and this was his third slice of pizza.

You chuckled, “Slow down before you throw up. I’ll leave you high and dry right here if you do.”

Jungwon feigned offense as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and then his hands followed behind quickly.

You got up and paid for the food before leaving with Jungwon.

It was six forty-three and you could see the sky starting to darken. You unlocked your car and got in, Jungwon followed after you and sat in the passenger seat that was practically reserved for him.

Jungwon looked like he was ready to pass out so you took him home. Once you parked in his parent’s driveway, you walked in with him to say bye to his parents.

When you entered, you saw his parents getting ready to go out for the night. You both were surprised since his parents rarely went out, especially at this hour.

As they walked out, you and Jungwon exchanged knowing looks with each other before running to lock the door and peek out the window to see when they left.

Once you confirmed that his parents left, you both went into the kitchen and checked for any alcohol like you and Jungwon used to do in middle and high school.

Sure enough, the liquor cabinet was unlocked.

Well.. you both were old enough to drink now but you still felt like you had to hide it from your parents.

You and Jungwon took the bottles upstairs to his room and you both refilled your glasses while laughing at joking.

Jungwon was infamous for being unable to handle liquor.

You both began drinking enough to get buzzed.

“So Jungwon, be honest.. have you ever gone to bar?” You asked as you took another swig of your drink. “Or do you just wait to come home and drink your parent’s stuff?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I go to bars,” He pouted slightly, making you ruffle his hair endearingly.

“Oh? With who?” You inquired.

“A girl asked me out last month and she took me there,” Jungwon admitted as he searched your expression to see if you were jealous but it was unreadable or just blank.

“What happened?” You asked.

“She was.. moving too fast,” He muttered.

“How?”

“She wanted things to be physical but.. I don’t know. I didn’t know how.” Jungwon replied, leaving out the part that he kept imaging you as her.

“Wait.. you’re still a virgin?” You asked in surprise.

“I’m honored you’re surprised by that,” He laughed sadly. “Yeah, I am.”

“You couldn’t have at least gave her a kiss?” You joked.

“I can’t.. I don’t know how,” Jungwon admitted.

You stared in shock.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“No..”

“What have you done?”

“Nothing..”

“Woah.. are you saving yourself for somebody?”

“..”

You stared at the blushing Jungwon before you and placed down your cup.

“Let me teach you how to kiss at least,” You offered seriously.

Jungwon froze, seemingly sobering up quickly. “That’s not funny to joke about,” He frowned ws he tried to kill the small hope bubbling in his chest.

“Jungwon,” You stared into his eyes. “Are you scared?”

He swallowed, “What?”

“Are you scared?”

“..No.”

“You’re shaking.”

“It’s the alcohol.”

“What kind of fucking alcohol has you twitching like that?”

“This one..?”

You leaned in towards Jungwon.

“Come on. If we’re getting married one day, you at least need to know how to kiss.”

“A-Are you serious..?” Jungwon muttered.

“I’m as serious as one can get,” You replied.

Jungwon swallowed hard, “Okay.. I want to learn.” She said shakily.

His brain was screaming at him not to do it. But he wanted to have as much of you as you offered him and something like this was pure liquid gold for Jungwon.

He wasn’t intentionally saving himself for you, but he didn’t crave anything from anyone but you.

You gave a smile, “Don’t be scared.”

Jungwon’s heart throbbed against his chest, his breathing picking up slightly at the confirmation. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

You cupped Jungwon’s cheeks before bringing your lips to his gently.

The soft gesture knocked the wind out of his chest.

Jungwon clumsy kissed you back, his hands unsure of where to rest.

His eyes fluttered shut as you were practically just kissing him and hoping he’d know what to do, which he didn’t.

Jungwon referenced to the nights in his college dorm where he spent longer than he should have attempting how to kiss.

He put those instagram videos he watched to work and tried to move with you.

“Copy what I’m doing,” You chuckled against his lips.

He blushed but did what you said and it actually helped better.

Once he was starting to get the hang of it, you slid your tongue across Jungwon’s bottom lip, and it caught him severely off guard but he accepted your tongue with open arms.

Once he began to get the hang of it, you pulled away. “Alright. You got it down for the most part.”

Jungwon’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were little wider as if he couldnt believer he was genuinely kissing you.

“Do you want to try again?” You asked.

He nodded hard, “Yeah.. I need experience.” She muttered.

“If you want me to just kiss you it won’t be as gentle,” You said, poking his soft cheeks that were already painted a pretty shade of red.

He swallowed, “I don’t care.”

You sighed as your hands rested on Jungwon’s nape while your other hand rested on his shoulder.

Before Jungwon could even think of what the fuck was happening, you slammed you lips against his fast enough to blind him.

He recovered quickly and closed his eyes and kissed you back desperately. He didn’t care if you figured out his feelings for you right now.

He let out a soft moan, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The kiss was electric and charged. Jungwon’s eager kiss surprisingly made you smile against his lips not to mention the whine.

Your hand on his neck pulled him closer to you while your hand on his shoulder’s grip tightened just a small amount. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice.

You felt how sculpted he was underneath his lame ass shirt about some niche franchise you gave zero fucks about.

He moaned softly, the sound of pure need and affection as his hands cupped your face, then quickly fell to your own shoulders.

You bit his bottom lip a little, not enough to bleed but just eniugh for him to wince at it. You didn’t care and neither did he truly.

Your hand on his shoulder traveled down and felt on his chest, your hands lingering.

He hissed sharply at the feeling of your hands on his body. A feeling he’s wanted to feel since he could think.

Jungwon’s hands on your shoulders were soft but firm. They slightly caressed your shoulders and the area where neck and shoulder meet.

“Y/N,” Jungwon whined out. His voice shaky and frantic as he spoke softly.

You let out a hum in response to his whine, your kiss breaking as Jungwon let out another light sigh as your hand felt his chest again.

You stared at his face. He looked wrecked. It was a cute wrecker of course, but it was still surprising.

Jungwon’s hands gripped onto you tighter, not wanting to stop at all and to be honest..

You didn’t want to either.

You dipped your head a little and pressed a soft kiss on Jungwon’s neck.

Jungwon let out a hiss as your lips connected with his neck. The feeling making his heart beat stutter slightly.

You placed hot open mouthed kisses on his neck.

Jungwon let out a soft moan and his head fell back, partially to give you space and because he couldn’t support the weight of his head.

You kissed the side of Jungwon’s neck while your hand rested in the other side of his neck.

His hands slightly tugged on your hair, his hands slightly shaking as they felt your scalp. Odd habit but it was kind of cute.

He gasped as your teeth dug into the think skin of his neck. The feeling was surprisingly euphoric but it carried a persistent pain with it.

Jungwon let out a loud wince, his grip on your hair tightening.

You licked the wound on his neck before sucking on it. It was a sensation Jungwon had never even thought about before but God, he wouldn’t want to go without it any longer than he already has.

You watched the mark on his neck swell and a part of you were proud.

You shouldn’t be. He was your best friend after all.

You both were in his childhood room, the same room you both had sleepovers in.

Now you were here, subjecting Jungwon to copious amounts of pleasure he barely knew were possible. You kind of felt bad.

Your kiss traveled down to Jungwon’s collarbone, earning a soft gasp from him as his heart pounded harder and harder.

His face was severely flushed and the alcohol was long forgotten by this point.

Just then, Jungwon’s phone began ringing.

You paused and Jungwon reluctantly checked and then froze.

His mom was calling.

“Hey, we’re outside. Could you unlock the door? We also saw Y/N is still here,” His mom smiled while you quickly pulled away and grabbed the alcohol and stuff to put back before they came inside.

Jungwon gulped loudly, “Y-Yes.. give me a minute I’m busy..”

“Alright alright,” His mom chuckled as Jungwon quietly panicked to fix his hair and clothes to hide the marks on his neck.

Surprisingly in enough time everything was back to normal and Jungwon’s parents walked in.

“The bar had this huge fight and it was crazy.. we just decided to head back early,” Jungwon’s dad hummed as they laid on the couch. Completely spent from their night out.

You and Jungwon nodded obediently before you uttered an excuse to return to your dorm.

Jungwon glanced at you with longing and wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He definitely couldn’t after what had just transpired.

You ignored his gaze but he followed you out to the front door where you smiled at him.

“Text me, okay?” You mouthed the words towards Jungwon with a wink before leaving and hopping into your car.

Leaving him smiling by the door like an idiot.

[1009lee]

POSE FOR ME ! 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. ˚ ch. 2 : this ur bih ?

WHERE you, a struggling model, land a gig working with your favorite group all because one of the members has taken quite a liking to you …

THEMES && FEATURES idol!heeseung x model!fem!yn, smau, crack, strangers to lovers … includes all of enha + katseye’s manon, txt’s yeonjun, p1h’s keeho.

A/N hiii omg i’m glad u guys r enjoying so far ahhh! also just ignore time stamps thru out the story … also ALSO working on a masterlist for this rn 🔜🔜🔜

prev. next. masterlist.

TAGLIST : OPEN ! (9/50) … bold could not be tagged |@miajojojo @nirvanhaa @ilovejungwonjungwonjungwonjungwo @ellushic @jameskittty @1009beats @emsiekinss @angelhyuka @kristynaaah

[vanishdesires]

BREAKING NEWS! ✧ spider-man! lhs

synopsis. You needed to land on the front page to secure your position in the publication, and the brewing story of a criminal group seemed to be the next best shot. Unfortunately, Spider-Man disagrees–even more so than usual because you guess it–he’s courting you! Here lies the story of a clumsy friendly neighborhood hero and a very stubborn journalist navigating the woes of a blooming relationship.

pairing. spider-man! lee heeseung / evan x fem! journalist! reader w.c. 11.5k tags. MDNI. spider-man au with spider-man things (canon-typical violence, kidnapping, fighting, minor near-death experiences), friends to dating to lovers, fluff, mild angst, eventual (mild?) smut, misunderstandings, both of them are bad at feelings BUT theyre trying their best, y/n is referred with fem terms, heavily inspired by superman (2025), the amazing spider-man 2 (2014), and insomniac’s spider-man (2018), no beta we die like uncle ben, minor appearances: seokjin as j. jonah jameson, jihyo bc #whynot, random npcs, mentioned: sunghoon (osborn :P), jungwon (briefly) nsfw tags. y/n has a vulva, heavy makeout, fingering, dry humping, theyre just needy as hell, (not rlly nsfw but pet names: baby, pretty, daisy)

♡ main masterlist | breaking news masterlist | notes at the end!♫ in between days - the cure

Lashes, check. Blush, check. Now, lips–Knock, knock! “Pizza delivery!”

You snapped out of your routine with lip gloss barely twisted open. You turned to your balcony window with a cocked brow. Lo and behold, the city’s most beloved superhero waved through the glass door with a ruffled bouquet of daisies on hand. You rolled your eyes before focusing back on your make-up.

“It’s open,” you said aloud before painting the gloss on your lips.

Spider-Man entered your studio apartment with ease. He pulled his mask over his head before ruffling his hair all over. Through your periphery, he flashed you a sheepish smile and the transformation completed–the superhero turned into the simple Lee Heeseung. As you smacked your lips together, you watched him stride towards you in the mirror. He reached out to you–hesitating for a split second–before tucking your hair away to plant a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Hi, pretty,” he whispered onto your skin. He also placed the ruffled daisies over your vanity. 

You beamed up to him, leaning onto his warmth. “Hi Spidey. Thanks for the flowers.”

“And as always, sorry to disturb.” He chuckled as he pulled away, settling on your bed. “There’s, like, 30 minutes left until Boss hunts us down. Take your time, and let me know if we’re ready to go, okay?”

You shook your head in amused disbelief. He spoke as if he would be driving you around the city. Nonetheless, you just hummed. “Alright!”

Besides, who would have thought you’d date Spider-Man?

Disclaimer: Spider-Man wasn’t your boyfriend yet. There are pros and cons in dating a superhero, and these should factor in your eventual commitment with him. Luckily, your superhero was also super earnest. You can’t help but appreciate his efforts, like:

As he just did, you always get a bouquet of white daisies or sunflowers. However, as you saw earlier, the bouquet can be barely intact because, well, he swung to get here. 

He still brings you to work though, because–plot twist–Spider-Man is your co-worker! You practically get a free ride to work everyday, but getting ready can be messy… Because… You guessed it–you swung to get there.

No, you did not have issues with his swinging. That is his entire gimmick, after all. You personally found it thrilling up in the sky, feeling the air on your face, skimming through the valleys of buildings, and relishing in the adrenaline. Plus, those webs? You have no idea how much they have saved you (and your dishes) so many times.

You brushed through your hair with products, taming it as much as you could before fighting against the city air. You glanced at the mirror to check on Heeseung and you bit back a chuckle. He simply gawked at you. His doe-like eyes followed your every move, completely mesmerized by your routine. It wrung at your heart a little.

Who would have thought you’d date Lee Heeseung?

You met Heeseung in university years ago. He was the stammering genius classmate in your general education courses. He even became a video producer for the student publication at the time, while you were a student journalist writing investigative news. In rare instances where you reported on screen, you noted how quiet yet excellently he worked. That dynamic translated well into the present. You were now a broadcast journalist in The Star Inquirer, while Heeseung was an audio technician on set. Both rookies who excelled in their fields. 

Since then, you always knew Heeseung to be stellar until a performance crash during senior year. He worked as an intern in the laboratories of the Park conglomerates, but it closed down due to the fraudulent scandals of Mr. Park. Heeseung revealed to you that he became the Green Goblin, the criminal mastermind that funded not only the city’s developments but also the criminal scene. News whispered that his only son, Park Sunghoon, stepped up to the role, hoping to redeem his father’s legacy. Alongside that chaos, Heeseung underwent his own transformation. 

That was the behind-the-scenes of a superhero debut: Spider-Man imprisoning the Green Goblin. You were lucky to coin the names first, and your student publication went crazy viral over it. You also watched how your co-staffers fawned over Spider-Man too much when you first interviewed him. 

You scheduled another interview with him after being interrupted by the police. You needed the content for your article, after all, then you saw Spider-Man alright. On your balcony, with his mask pulled over his head without realizing your presence. You locked eyes with Heeseung that night. 

The rest was history. 

Well, besides the little tidbit where he asked you out after graduation. He wanted to court you in the old-fashioned way. He also confessed his crush on you since freshman year. He thanked you endlessly for his trust. He was red the entire time, so it was not difficult to say yes. By twist of fate, you two ended up in the same studio. And with how things are going, you think it wouldn’t be too long until you accept his proposal. Nonetheless, he still assured that he would wait for you no matter how long. 

You think you were ready anyway. You were really just waiting for your big break before making things too real. 

Your big break. Fuck.

“Oh my god,” you exhaled out as the realization dawned on you. Your nagging boss flashed in your mind. Your mood soured immediately. A front-page article was due for two weeks, and all rookie writers competed for a spot. You had been stuck at your pitch for days, staring at scrapped drafts and rejected desks splattered all over your screen. You rubbed your temples, heaving. 

Upon sensing your distress, Heeseung reached over to you. “Hey, you okay?” He looked over you with creased brows and a worried gaze. He stroked the back of your hair. “Need a day off?”

You shook your head with an exasperated sigh. “Just remembered that Boss is about to kick my ass.” You glance over your tall companion who seemed to only listen eagerly. “I was supposed to send over a draft for the front page, but he just kept rejecting me.”

“Oh.” Heeseung grimaced. He was not too well-versed with the ins-and-outs of writing, but he had seen the fervent passion of their boss during pitching season. He practically hunted down for the next big thing. “Got any ideas?”

You shrugged, drumming your fingers against the vanity and tapping your shoes rhythmically on your hardwood floors. You revisited your ideas–considered new ones. Your gaze glossed over your small apartment, the stress closing in on you but you stare. The bright white ceilings. The clutter of photos and posters on walls. Sprawled sheets on bed. Superhero not-boyfriend looking at you worriedly–

Wait.

Superhero not-boyfriend.

Heeseung called out your name, voice dripping in concern. His pouty lips turned even poutier. Glossier even. It would have been endearing if it were not for the spike of energy rushing through you. You turned your chair, leaning forward suddenly to grasp his wrists. He jumped (despite his Spidey Senses?), wide-eyed, but he melted when he caught the sparkle in your eyes.

“What popped up?” He asked coolly.

Spider-Man popped up in your head. You refrained from discussing any public scrutiny of the hero with Heeseung. You knew that he already deals with that on his own, but the concern still lingers. Despite the many years he had served, his reputation had taken a slow, nasty turn when the crime rates started to pick up. The citizens may have ignored the rare cases of gangs collecting weapons or starting riots, but some noticed that it had become more aggressive. They hoped for Spider-Man, but his presence alone didn’t temper any fears.

The patterns of crimes also concern you. Heeseung had hinted that the perpetrators were former crooks of Green Goblin. While that was expected, Heeseung worried that they would move near the KALPA Foundation. It was where his childhood friend and aunt worked. The odd patterns could signify a mole in the building, but it was too much of a coincidence to confirm. 

While he had insisted that everything was fine, you knew Heeseung, too. The fact that he had eventually avoided updating you on his investigations. He had grown more tense recently, but still pretended that–yes–everything was fine. You played along to not worry him, but the fear lingers. You were scared for him. You didn’t know what would happen.

You began your own investigations and similar pitches to your boss a while back. They were all rejected–too presumptuous, too simple, or too nothing. You needed to know more, but the leads all turned up nothing. Who could’ve thought that the possible solution of your problems is just right in front of you? 

With a deep exhale, you breathed out. “Can I interview you?”

Heeseung furrowed his brows. As if the thought juggled and swung through his mind, he looked side to side before settling his stare back at you. Awkwardly and shakily, he pointed at himself. “Me? As in Heeseung?”

“I’d love to,” you giggled, cupping his soft cheeks in your hands. You chased a soft kiss on his nose. He doesn’t have to know all the details right? You ponder to yourself.  “But alas, I need Spider-Man this time around. Is that okay?’ You pinched his cheeks. He looked like a hamster. He was so cute. You feel bad for hiding your intentions like this. “I could go on your superhero motives, or a casual day-in-a-life feature? The city has been peaceful lately…”

Heeseung only hummed before falling silent. You wondered if he had seen through you. He’d insist you to stop whatever you were doing.  He didn’t want you to be involved, but it could not stop you in your own investigations. There were still gaps. You couldn’t rely on hunches.

But, maybe it was too risky to actually involve Heeseung in your investigations. You would rely on him too much. Too risky for the both of you. You backed out from your idea. “If you don’t want to, it’s really–”

“No, it’s alright,” Heeseung reassured, the relaxed, easy smile coming back to his face. He patted your hands over his cheeks. “I was just worried that you’d be in danger. I wanted to make sure that the city–” He stole a quick kiss onto your palm, your heart jumped. “–and especially you to be safe.”

“Aand, I would be a bad suitor if I didn’t support your career, right?” Heeseung chuckled, pulling your hands down and intertwining your fingers. “I’ll do it.”

You squeezed his hands. “Really?”

“Really, really.” Heeseung grinned. “Tonight?”

Suddenly, you were on your tip-toes, planting a kiss on the corner of his lips. “YES! Thank you so much. I owe you a big one!” You pulled away and took a deep breath.  You reached over your perfume to spritz over your touchpoints. As you placed down the bottle, Heeseung stood up—stretched his arms and lengthened his back. You carried over your work bag over your shoulders, all secure for the trip ahead. “Alright, I’m ready!”

Heeseung looked at you once and to the floor, letting out an amused half. He slipped his mask back over his head while you opened your balcony door–relishing the skyline of the city. It didn’t take long until an arm snaked around your waist. 

Once everything settled, Spider-Man pulled you closer onto his back as you wrapped your limbs around him. You watched his mask squint into your direction as he asked. “You comfy?”

“Yep!” You leaned onto his shoulders, taking in his scent. 

Spider-Man chuckled. “Alright, let’s take off.”

Admittedly, you would take swinging 100km/h over the chaos of The Star Inquirer.

If a bystander entered the studio, you would think a world-level crisis just occurred. Staff members all over were scrambling on the floors. Camera operators were tinkering with lens and equipment. Producers and editors looked over callsheets, papers, and directions for the umpteenth time. Jihyo, the floor director, already pulled you into your spot as you scribbled final notes on your script.

It was a relief that Jihyo actually chose you for a morning broadcast. It was minor local news, but it was still a rare opportunity for a rookie. That would mean you were at least doing something right, however that did not temper the bubbling anxiety up your throat. For someone who had spoken in front of the camera for years, the frost of the first recording never left you. Even if you rehearsed all night, you could only pray you don’t fuck up until the last second.

The same could be said for the interview with Spider-Man later. You prided yourself in being an excellent interviewer during your university days, but you only had a conflict of interest just recently. You talked about your questions on the fly earlier. You even sent Heeseung in writing your questions, but you also noted that there could still be follow-up questions. You prepared the whole script in your head, but it won’t always go as planned.

It shook you a bit. You cared about your work so much. The reason you had gone this far was developing that cutthroat work ethic people knew you for. That, unfortunately, could compromise personal connections, so you practiced separating your life and work closely. That was not something Heeseung himself is familiar with, you admitted to yourself. You wonder if you should back out from your original idea…

“Hey, can we check the audio levels one last time?” Heeseung asked aloud, and you turned to his voice. 

He was behind the camera, tinkering with god-knows-what on the audio equipment. He continued to listen to the operators, while his toned arms (why was he wearing tank tops at work?) carried the boom mic with ease. Some producers snickered behind him before he cringed–taking off his in-ears before glaring and pouting at them. Their laughs just got louder. You even giggled under your breath–heat flushing your cheeks. He had always been easy to tease.

Jihyon ran up to him to give last-minute instructions, pointing towards you. Naturally, you met Heeseung’s gaze who just grinned up at you. He carried the mic over one shoulder and raised a fist, flashing a small smile and raised brows. ‘You can do this!’ He seemed to say as he nodded along the director’s orders. You tore away your own staring, feeling the heat just blaze in your cheeks. You couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, you convince yourself. You had work. He had work. He just looked a little too fi–

A loud shout of your name captured your attention. There was the bane of your existence your boss, Kim Seokjin, walking up to you. His hands rubbed together mischievously. He smirked. “So, how’s the best rookie with the next big pitch?”

“Flaterrer,” you chided. You rolled your eyes, pretending you were not swallowing the nerves down your throat. “But, I’m happy to inform you I have gotten a lead on a certain…” You trailed off your words, watching how his eyes widened with growing interest. “Bug guy…” His smirk grew wider. “And an ex-CEO.”

Fanfare played in your head when Seokjin shrugged but raised his brows. “Alright, but those are tricky leads. I told you about this. What’d you get?”

“The best rookie managed to snatch an interview!” You whistled, beaming up proudly when Boss let out a gasp. “I already sent over my initial outline earlier, so you can check them out after the live–which my cue will be in a bit.”

Seokjin clapped loudly before dramatically spinning with arms stretched out and head high up high. “A GIG! WITH SPIDER-MAN! FINALLY IN THE STAR INQUIRER.” He pointed a finger at you, nodding approvingly. “ALL THANKS TO THE ROOKIE.”

Some producers clapped for you while others laughed at Seokjin. You waved them off shyly, but you only had eyes on Heeseung who raised another fist bump for you. You giggled and copied the fist bump, mouthing a ‘thank you.’

He mouthed back an ‘always.’ Your heart only continued to race. 

It didn’t take long until Boss finally went into full director mode. You were about to go live about the upcoming election dates, increase of crime rates, and other miscellaneous events. Heeseung approached you with the boom mic, the sweat from carrying heavy equipment dripped down his bare arms. Such physique usually hid behind the spandex of his suits. You cleared your throat. He really had grown a lot over the years.

Heeseung smirked at you, teasing. “Like what you see?”

“Heeseung!” You hissed in horror. You felt lightheaded. You hide your face behind the script, taking a deep breath to fix your composure. “We’ll be live in a minute.”

“Yep, and you are loud and clear,” Heeseung noted proudly, tapping on his in-ears. He smiled at you again, but this time, he bared his whole teeth. You thought you couldn’t breathe anymore. “Good luck, you’re gonna do great.”

Your heart fluttered. “Tha–”

BOOM!

Everyone turned their heads. The loud explosion was too loud–probably just right outside the studio. The door suddenly swung right open. The security guard ran in. Heaving. An eruption of screams blasted within the set. Yet, you only stared at Heeseung who was already setting down his equipment. Eyes focused. Sharp. 

“EVACUATE! NOW!” The guard shouted. 

Producers started helping others in setting the equipment aside. Jihyo helped guide the others to the emergency exits. Chaos strewn up in the place once more–but more dangerous, more risky. Amidst the mess, Seokjin was rallying up his most experienced crew shouting. “EVERYONE, LOCK IN. WE CAN GET SPIDER-MAN ON THE SPOT. I KNOW IT.”

You locked eyes with Heeseung. You knew he would rush outside as Spider-Man, but still, he ran up to you. Large firm hands grasped on your shoulders, but thumbs rubbed them soothingly. 

“Stay safe,” Heeseung said. Plain and simple.

You nodded. “You too.”

“Of course.” Heeseung beamed sheepishly before staggering a bit. He pivoted his step, taking a deep breath, and just glanced at you. “I’ll pick you up later?”

You huffed in amusement. Classic Heeseung. “I’ll be waiting.”

Then, he was gone. You followed suit with the crowd towards the exit, avoiding the debris and smoke. Seokjin and the crew were still behind the studio doors. The criminals seemed to scramble on the floors. Their faces looked panicked. Horrified. Funny because they were the ones that caused the chaos. The leader, who had a mysterious gun that swirled with odd energy, pointed the weapon wildly at the running crowd.

He almost pulled the trigger when a thwip! breezed through the wind. Webs wrapped around the muzzle. With a swoosh, Spider-Man swung and kicked the leader’s face. Keeping up with the momentum, he did a backflip—landing effortlessly–and scanned the area. 

“Those things look dangerous, man.” Spider-Man sighed, putting hands on his hips. A deeper voice left him–a subtle voice changer to keep up the whole anonymous thing. “In what intergalactic planet did y’all get that? You don’t look like you ca–WOAH!”

A crony swung a punch behind him. The superhero dodged with ease before pushing the man backwards. With another flick of the wrist, he webbed him onto the floor. “No back attacks! That’s unfair!”

Reinforcements started to sprint into the scene. Most employees were out of the building. Bystanders only stared at the spectacle in front of them. While Heeseung told you to stay clear from any danger, you couldn’t help but watch. You were hiding behind an electric post from the other side of the road. 

On one hand, the combat mesmerized you. Spider-Man took them down one by one. Others scrambled away in surrender. Others webbed. Punched up into the air. Kicked the hell out of their asses. On the other hand, you looked at the odd weapons and the oozing black-blue energy. It still emitted from the truck where reinforcements were. The truck was scrubbed off any names, but you made out the silhouette from the stain. It was familiar too–it looked like an old truck of KALPA. 

Another clue. That was something to check on later.

Spider-Man continued fighting the crooks. He webbed the door closed before running up the wall, tackling a brute with webs away from the studio. You bit back a smile. He learned his lesson from a while back, when he got an earful from you after breaking equipment from the university publication. 

It did not take long until Spider-Man had webbed everyone down. The police finally arrived at the scene. The crowd started cheering for him, and he followed the energy. He waved around, greeting everyone he could get near, but still, he never failed to find you in the masses–throwing a quick wink. The grin on your face only grew bigger. 

Heeseung had always been the sweetest, even long before you two dated. His shy demeanor contrasted with the peppy, more energetic superhero personality. Yet, you saw both sides all the time regardless who showed up. You could not really separate Spider-Man from the Lee Heeseung you grew to adore.

But, the world would not always see it that way. Spider-Man is at the crossroads of his reputation–the general public either hate him or love him. Again, maybe you should step out of your original idea. You could always trust Spider-Man. You wonder if your interview should actually focus on the hero himself, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. For your career. For the truth. A job is a job, and it shouldn’t be taken personally. Heeseung had always been professional, too, right? 

There was nothing to worry about.

“I’m a little worried about this,” you admitted leaning over the headrest. You cuddled the Spider-Man face cushion closer to your body. “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

By your kitchenette area, Heeseung was whipping up two cups of matcha latte. He poured the oat milk down the glasses while trying to reassure you. “A hundred percent. You gave me a briefer of the questions. About Green Goblin. Mr. Park. KALPA. Everything about those with Spider-Man involved.” He then poured the matcha mixture over the glasses. “Plus, it would be Spider-Man talking to the Star. It won’t exactly be me talking to you.”

Heeseung walked up by your bedside table, serving up your iced matcha latte as you sat up by your bed. He settled on the couch in front of you, sipping his own drink. You mindlessly stirred your own with the straw, still hesitant. You murmured. “You know how I am with work–too serious. Too… detached.” You frowned. “I don’t want to fight over this.”

“We won’t,” Heeseung affirmed. He leaned over and squeezed your knee in assurance. “Once the recording rolls, like I said, it won’t be me and you. It’s Spider-Man and the best rookie of Star, alright?” He smiled when you chortled. “Plus, Spider-Man is cool, he can take any questions easily.”

You pursed your lips before sipping into the matcha latte. He made it just like how you liked it. He remembered. You still smacked your lips thinking. Heeseung drew close to you again, before poking your cheek. He called out your name.

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty daisy?” He beamed up at you. 

You shook your head. “Just don’t wanna scare off my potential boyfriend with my work persona.”

“What?” Heeseung chuckled. He looked at you in disbelief, opening and closing mouth in shock. He leaned on the couch. He looked up to the sky. “Let me process for a moment.”

“What scared you?” You threw your head back, giggling. “The scaring off or the potential boyfriend?”

Heeseung fought back a grin as he heard the words. He covered his mouth with his hands. He whined out your name. “Stop, I’m gonna die.”

“You’re such a loser,” you teased. You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?” You pointed at him and then yourself. 

“I know, but like–” Heeseung giggled again. “I could be your boyfriend. I can’t wait.” He bared his entire smile in front of you. Cheeks pink. Then. his eyes widened when he realized what he said. “BUT! Take your time, by the way. No pressure. No harm, no foul. I’m patient. Very very patient so–”

Now, you leaned over, stealing a quick chaste kiss from him. His jaw dropped when you pulled away. You cocked up a brow. “That wasn’t the first time we kissed, Hee.”

“Still.” He pouted, fighting his grin.

You laughed again. You felt more relaxed now. You just hoped for the best.  “Whatever, let’s get started, shall we?”

After a breather, you fished your phone and notes out. With the voice recorder ready, Heeseung relaxed on the couch as he waited for your cue. His voice changer clipped by his collar like a microphone. The two drinks remained unfinished. You straightened your posture. You poised your pen.

“Spider-Man,” you called out. Heeseung tried to get into the groove, calling back your own name.

“Recently, you’ve come under a lot of fire by the local government,” you began. Heeseung just hummed in agreement. He knew what the people were talking about. “The current mayor announced he was going to look into your actions around the city–”

“Which includes,” he interrupted, shrugging his shoulders. “Stopping crime.”

You hummed, tapping your pen onto the paper. “Maybe you did.”

“Not maybe. I did,” he insisted.

You shrugged. “Okay, Spider-Man, how?”

“I stopped Green Goblin,” he said, ready to explain himself. He had to be more direct, especially when you were asking questions. “Then now, I try to stop his cro–”

“Try?” Now, you interjected, raising a brow. “Does trying mean damaging city property? Or interrupting police investigations that correlated to the stagnation of crime rates?”

“No one died.”

“That couldn’t be said for the collateral damage in the Park headquarters when you fought Green Goblin. Employees were found injured during rescue operations,” you argued. “To minimize the damage, were there attempts to merely discuss?”

Heeseung made a face. Disappointment painted over his features. “I already told you about this.”

You paused the recording. “I know, Hee, but this is all on record. For Star.”  Your heart started to feel heavy.

“Yeah, but you know how I feel about that.”

“Even if I did,” you sighed, fiddling with your pen. “I’m not asking the question. Star is.”

“Is it necessary?” He grimaced.

You stayed silent. “We can skip it.”

“No–it’s okay. I was just caught off guard,” Heeseung reassured. He paused for a moment, before gesturing to your phone. Hesitantly, you turned it on again.

“I did try to talk to Green Goblin,” he answered wistfully. “In Park HQ.” 

“How?”

“By swinging to his place and talking, but he wasn’t super cooperative, you know.” Heeseung tried to joke, but the silence made his voice trail off. He watched you closely as you bit your lips. Your brows furrowed as you scribbled on your notes. He sensed something was up.

“Did he reveal any plans to continue his criminal legacy? What were his motives?” You questioned. Guilt wracked at you for a moment. You knew Mr. Park, through Heeseung’s friend, only wanted to revive his wife. However, that was too precarious for the public. “Does not help that Goblin’s men have surrounded themselves in KALPA, getting our attention–”

That information alarmed Heeseung. Wide-eyed, he grasped your wrist to catch your attention. His lips pursed into a thin line. “Why are you looking into that? I told you not to.”

“It’s already a known lead by Star, and it’s brewing behind the scenes now,” you reasoned, shoulders dropping. The cat’s out of the bag now. “The attack in the Star Inquirer studios has been connected to the Goblin activities by the police men. The deliveries already aroused suspicion. It should be looked into–”

“That’s dangerous.” He hissed. He frowned. “Don’t ever go to KALPA alone. You know people are plotting, but you still jump into danger. I already worry about my Aunt and Jungwon. I just want you to be safe–”

“This is my job, Spider-Man.” You suddenly cringed at yourself, but it was the role you are playing now–like how he played his role as a hero. 

Heeseung fumed, standing up–trying to ground himself. “Your job, huh? You could die there. It’s not safe to be around Green Goblin’s shi–”

“But nothing is happening, Spider-Man.” You held the pen tight. You muttered his hero name with a drop of hostility. It was getting too personal. “The attack showed that you are not protecting the city enough, as you had claimed. Even Mr. Park covered his own–”

Immediately, Heeseung turned to you, voice exhausted and low. “That doesn’t change anything!” He voiced your name in disappointment. “Do you really feel that? What do you think I am doing? Is this interview really for me or for you to get in danger again and again–”

“Hee, this is on the record!” You called out again, turning off the recording. “And I cannot just depend on you! I don’t want to do nothing!”

“I’m not asking you to depend on me, I just want you to be safe!”

“But I–! We–! Star need the truth to be safe.” You exhaled out exasperatedly.

Heeseung huffed. “Star, huh? You’re just thinking about your big break again.” He brushed his fingers through his hair. “Is this what it was all for? Getting intel from me so you can snoop behind my back? You should’ve known better.”

“Heeseung,” you murmured, your heart dropping to your stomach. Tears pricked at your eyes. “It’s not my fault you…Y-you… You keep things under the wraps and it terrifies me and–”

Heeseung’s arms dropped to his sides. Silence suffocating the room. You stopped at your tracks.  “I scare you?” Heeseung whispered.

You widened your eyes. Immediately, you attempted to contract your words. “No, Hee, I–we…” You tugged onto your sleeves. You looked away. That was Heeseung’s answer. 

“I try not to care about many things, I really do.” Heeseung tried to reassure you, but he stepped away. “But hearing all of this from you, I just–” He ran his fingers messily through his hair. “I didn’t want to scare you–I thought–” He paused. He inhaled, then exhaled. “I need a breather. I’ll just be out in a sec.”

He’s leaving. You started to panic. “Heeseung, you told me–”

“We’re not fighting.” Heeseung said, but he still picked up his things. He ripped off his voice changer, equipping his web slingers and already turning his back on you. “I just need a breather–”

“In the middle of an interview. You always do this,” you muttered dejectedly and he looked back at you in disbelief. “Pretending nothing is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” he countered. “Plus, I’m sure you already have a lot of content for your article.” He frowned. “And a whole lot more you can’t use. And you shouldn’t snoop in any others’ business but yours.”

You glanced at the matcha lattes, half-empty and room temperature. You leaned over the headrest before standing up, picking up the cups and going to your kitchenette–parallel to where Heeseung was standing on the balcony door. He called out your name.

“Just go,” you said aloud, before breathing out. “I knew this would never work.”

Your name left his lips once more, worried. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just told you I’m not good with these relationship things,” you reminded him, pouring down the latte down the sink. “Can’t balance anything.” You attempted to blink out the tears away from your eyes as you heard Heeseung thwipped his web and swung away from your apartment. 

You rarely fought with Heeseung, even during university days. You had known to be more level-headed, but his dedication as Spider-Man made him lose so much–his family, his time, and his dreams. You knew he reconnected with a childhood friend a while back, but things were still being taken slowly. He didn’t have time to worry about the trivialities of the public while danger still lurks, but he was right–hearing it come from you was a different kind of sourness. 

While things were prepared, emotions were heightened–you were trying to fish your big break irresponsibly. He trusted you, but you shook him. He really needed to take a breather, as he usually did when life gets overwhelming but the sheer dread sinking in your stomach was too much. He pushed first, and you ultimately pushed away. 

But still, you wanted to make this work. Heeseung could’ve gone back to his own apartment from another block, so you could make your way to it in minutes. You made sure to lock everything in your apartment, kept your essentials in your bag, and wrapped a stolen varsity jacket around your body for warmth. You could buy a dessert on the way as an apology. You threw on comfier clothing before making your way out of the apartment building.

The city had been quiet until you found a familiar truck a couple of blocks across you. You turned rigid when you saw those guns oozing with energy. Four men surrounded the vehicle. Your survival instincts told you to turn the other way and run. But, something deep inside you stuck you in place. 

Heeseung could still be nearby. You can ask for help, but for now–you need to learn more. Carefully, you snuck behind the cars, eyeing the figures carefully. You focused on their voices. From what you had checked, it was only a couple of men in casual wear. The brute–the leader, assumedly–called someone, spewing curses and frustration to the recipient. Staring at him longer, the clothes looked similar to those that ran away from the studio earlier. Hierarchy goes quickly, huh?

“Ya think I can’t handle my own fuckin’ men? Ha!” He sneered. He turned his back, and you took the opportunity to sneak a little closer. Huffing frustrations, the leader turned on the speaker so his two goons could listen in.

“You almost blew our cover.” the caller said, voice young yet cold. It sounded familiar too–? But you couldn’t rely on mere assumptions. “Dispose of the weapons behind KALPA.  You are compromised.”

“Ya got some fuckin’ guts, kid. You think Park could do–” The leader snarked, but the call suddenly ended. The line got cut. The leader got even angrier, throwing a strong punch against the truck. “FUCK. We fuckin’ got nothin’! But this kid has nothing on us. What the fuck is that Park runt thinking?”

“Boss, we gotta throw away the guns,” the more laidback goon muttered, voice shaking. “I’ve seen what he could do. It’s not just bullshit.”

“BULLSHIT! Who gives a fuck about a kid, huh?!” The leader pushed his phone on the other man. “Where the fuck’s Taeoh anyway?”

You looked over the men and realized that there was one missing. Your breath hitched as you tried to pivot your footing away–only to hit an obstacle. You fell on your ass, hands scraped by the asphalt. You looked up to a man glaring at you. You scrambled to get your taser in your pocket, but the man kicked your wrist away. You glared up at him, ignoring the looming shadow over you.

“Found a rat in the sewers,” he said.

You sneered. “You can’t get away from thi–!”

Heeseung planted his face onto his palms. 

A deep breath escaped him. He brushed his hands through his hair, looking up to the night sky to ground himself. Alas, the pit on his stomach only deepened when your drooping figure flashed in his mind. 

“Why are you so stupid, Lee Heeseung!?” He hissed, falling back to the cement floors of the rooftop. He laid his forearm over his eyes. “You ran away again.”

There had only been one other instance when the two of you fought. In the pouring rain. Angered, worried arguments. It was before he brought down Mr. Park. You two weren’t even that close yet. Heeseung just wanted to protect you, but you remained stubbornly defiant–only for you to patch up his injuries after the whole fiasco.

However, that was all circumstantial at the time. He cowardly walked away when his hard work was put into question. When the safety he built got compromised. To make matters worse, the interrogation came from you. You knew him. His struggles. His fears. 

He had his reasons. Secrets had to be kept so the world–and you–could be safe. But as you had said, not knowing the truth could be terrifying. You were not attacking him, but rather was finding your own measures to be safe. Spider-Man can’t always be there. Heeseung was too sensitive to admit that.

Plus, you were right. You always were. Heeseung often than not walks away when things get difficult, in hopes that he could handle it himself once the dust (ergo his panicked nervous system) settles. He should’ve learned that chaos only festers in silence.

The guilt tightened its hold around his throat. Relying that everything turned out alright became a terrible habit for Spider-Man. But it is one that Lee Heeseung needed to break, because the world is not as forgiving for Lee Heeseung. 

However, as both Spider-Man and Lee Heeseung, he must own up to his mistakes. He knew better than to mistrust you, after everything you had done for and with him. He exhaled what was left of his doubt and dropped himself off the building, the pacing as familiar as his hundred visits to your balcony. He thwipped his web onto your glass door before landing quietly. 

Heeseung called out your name. You didn’t respond. The lights of your apartment were still lit, but any semblance of your presence was unseen. The balcony door was unlocked–a habit in his visits, even when they fought–so Heeseung slid into your space. Fear wracked up at him when you were not on your bed, nor your table, couch or kitchenette. 

He felt bile rise up his throat. Something was wrong. 

Then, his police notification rang. “Kidnapping behind KALPA. I repeat, Kidnapping behind KALPA. All nearby officers head to the coordinates,” the officer announced. 

He rushed to take off his clothes to reveal his suit. He webbed his clothes at the corner of your room. Heeseung rushed to the window, swinging towards the location by instinct as panic took over. Yet, his heart screamed that please, please, please let it not be you. Alas, his blood went cold as the officer detailed the victim based on the others’ accounts. It matched yours.

He let go of his web, propelling himself down the tall building. The guilt rushed to him as he dived down. Please be safe. He closed his eyes. Wait for me. The momentum continued to build until the rush of the wind and heat of the ground felt even closer. He angled his wrist upwards and thwip! He swung more quickly across buildings. He launched himself in tighter spots to pick up speed. 

He had to save you. He will save you.

Heeseung webbed himself up a tall building, parallel to the KALPA Foundation. He tried to recall all possible locations. He looked into the trucks before. The packages unloaded onto the back all get carried to the nearby storage room, but the staff always left a couple of boxes behind. After enough snooping, he knew of an underground chute that couldn’t be accessed the last time he checked. He squinted. He didn’t see anyone there–must be somewhere else. 

He then webbed onto the KALPA building, crawling up on the wall until he reached the rooftop. There, he heard whispers nearby. He surveyed the area by peeking through for a moment before hiding back into the shadows. He spotted four men, two chattering close by, a brute by the doorway of the rooftop, and one by garbage bin. 

He squinted at the last guy who seemed to be talking–arguing, mostly–to someone behind the garbage bin. He could hear a familiar angry voice. He sighed in relief. It must be you. You sounded okay. He should immobilize the rest of the men first though. 

“Bro, you were so stupid snatching that chick in broad daylight,” a man chastised. 

Heeseung raised his brow as he eavesdropped on the two men. He climbed more closely until the two were in an earshot. 

The other man crossed his arms. “She was snoopin’ in our business, Saeyoung!” Wow, first name basis. They must’ve worked long, Heeseung thought. “Big Boss would shoot our heads off.”

“But still… Looks like she’s awake. Feisty too. Seongmin is arguing with her now.”

Heeseung scoffed. “Damn, I knew criminals could feel guilty, but scolding your own guy? That’s a first,” he whispered to himself. “But seems like you’re okay… Thank god… Now, it’s time for a little Spidey time.”

With a high angle and flick of a wrist, he webbed a vent–distracting Saeyoung, moving away. Heeseung whistled before launching himself up in the air and seizing the other one onto the floor–knocking him out. Before Saeyoung could turn around, Heeseung jumped towards him–webbing his mouth and then pushing him off the building.

As if time slowed, Heeseung pushed himself away from Saeyoung before webbing him onto the wall. The force against the building knocked him out. Heeseung threw in more webs to secure him before sticking back to the wall. After ensuring that he wouldn’t fall, Heeseung patted him on the chest. “Sleep tight, Saeyoung-nim.”

Thud!

Heeseung turned his head to the sound, seeing a man’s body fall to the ground. It was by the garbage bin. Hurling himself onto the top of the doorway, he watched you rubbing your wrists as you took off the ropes. You picked up a taser next to you. Heeseung smirked under the mask–it was a more powerful one made by yours truly. One he instructed you to hide underneath clothes. 

That’s his girl, alright.

The brute, however, didn’t seem impressed. He grunted before charging towards you. “Why you little–!” You tried to stand up and run to the edge of the building before making a sharp turn. The brute’s heavy footsteps couldn’t compete with your agility, and neither can the brute compete with Heeseung’s agility. He shot up a web on the brute’s back, pulling him to turn a different direction. You caught up your breath as you watched Heeseung in shock and awe. 

“Spider-ma–!” The brute was about to chase Heeseung, but the superhero webbed his mouth and continuously shot webs to wrap around his large frame. With his hands and feet in position, he leaned back before tackling the man until he hit the floor–securing him in place. The brute struggled in the webs. He glared at him. 

Then, Heeseung stood up tall, shaking his hands off any dust. “Man, I’m jealous, you should’ve asked me out on a date instead,” he complained, feigning a whiny tone. He put a hand on his hips before leaning his weight on one side. “I’d be more flattered than Ms. Going-out-at-Night over here.”

“Hee–” You were about to call out in relief but stopped yourself. You took a deep breath, but your knees started to buckle from the fatigue. The adrenaline crashed down. You felt your body lean over the edge. In a split second, Heeseung was right by your side–wrapping his arms around you. You leaned onto his warm body. You closed your eyes. “Heeseung.”

“I’m here, pretty,” he cooed, stroking your cheek. “I’ll get you home now, okay? I’m so sorry.” He kissed the crown of your head. “I’m sorry.” 

You cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry…”

He knocked your foreheads together. “Don’t be. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away.” Through the mask, he nuzzled onto your cheeks. “You were working hard. I should’ve kept you safe–”

Then, the tension rose in his body. Hair on skin stood up. He suddenly pushed you away from him, about to scream to run downstairs before a powerful thud hit his head and you were pushed away from his arms. 

“Heeseung!” You screeched in a low voice as you tried to reach out to him. The brute, still had webs latched onto his back, raised his arms before dropping them down against Heeseung’s torso. A sharp pain plunged into his stomach. Eyes rolled at the back of his head at the pain.

“Man, you have a lot of pent-up rage.” He snickered for a moment, grasping at the brute’s fists. He turned his head to him. “You’re pretty inexperienced, huh? Not passing the Big Boss, was it?” He pulled his knees onto his torso, placing his feet on the other’s chest. Heeseung wanted to laugh at how red the brute’s face got. “I’m not a therapist, but I really suggest going to one. It helps!”

He pushed the criminal with his legs. The brute staggered backwards. Heeseung was about to launch another attack when CLANG! The man fell to the ground, barely a meter away from the edge. Eyes rolling, reeling to the blunt hit against his head. Next to him was you holding a spare pipe. You dropped the weapon and dropped your hands onto your knees. 

“Nice one!” Heeseung cheered.

You chuckled. “Learned from the best.”

After catching up your breath, the jitters still rushed through your veins. You walked towards Heeseung, who was already jogging towards you before the brute squirmed and outstretched his arm in your lane. Caught by surprise, you tripped over his arm and before you could catch yourself–your body leaned over the edge. 

Heeseung watched you fall. He screamed your name. 

He immediately jumped over the building, shooting you web to catch you. Mustering all of his strength, he pulled you to momentarily stop your fall. The force also made him dive faster, reaching out to you–eyes widened with fear, his name on your lips. He outstretched his arms as he went nearer, wrapping his arms around you tightly and forcing a turn to face the ground with his back. 

Then, you both hit the ground. 

You raised your head immediately, ignoring the adrenaline making you more lightheaded. You cupped his cheeks. Your eyes wildly looked over his mask and body–checking if there are open scars and scratches. You were taken out of your stupor when a husky laugh left Heeseung, his hand grasping yours. 

“It’s not that bad of a fall,” he reassured you. You could see his eyes squint through the lenses. “Just a usual fight. You know I fought worse.” He let out a husky chuckle. “I didn’t expect you to trip and fall though.”

“Heeseung, this isn’t a time for jokes!” You cried out, squishing his cheeks however you can through the face shell. “A fight is still a fight. I’m sorry for being reckless.” Your voice started to shake. “I should’ve stepped away. Should’ve just waited for you.” You lean over his body, knocking your foreheads together. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Heeseung felt his heart race at your admission. Heat flushed through his cheeks. He cleared his throat as he stroked the crown of your head before holding your nape gingerly. His voice got husky as he whispered. “Take my mask off for me?”

With trembling hands, you carefully pulled off the mask over up to his forehead. You only see his toothy smile. Doe-like eyes twinkled like the stars. Relief filled you. You leaned over his warm hand. Heeseung’s eyes flickered from your own down to your lips. You huffed in amusement, yet you couldn’t help but lean in. He raised his head slightly, eyes fluttering to a close. He pulled you even closer. Each other’s hot breath hitting cooled skin. 

Lips touched. 

Gently. Softly. Just feeling each other’s lips. Each other’s warmth. You two smiled into the kiss before pulling away slightly. You giggled. Heeseung felt breathless, but he still placed his lips on the corner of your lips. He thought he’d melt if he wasn’t touching you in any way. 

“Let’s go home?” He whispered, cherishing your body heat still.

You nodded. “Let’s.”

Sudden police alarms took both of you out of your stupor. You immediately pulled his mask back on his face, and Heeseung grimaced at the aggression with a choked up laugh. He grasped your wrists and rubbed your skin to temper your panic. 

“You can follow behind me, okay?” He sat both of you up easily. He fixed his mask while you pat off the dust on him–sitting on his lap. “I’ll talk to the police. You’ll talk about your stuff, the police will bring you home, and I’ll meet you at your apartment, okay?”

You nodded, your hands wandering from his neck to his shoulders–still taking in the reality that you both are okay. “Please come back.”

“Of course.” Heeseung assured, a tone of finality comforting you. 

As a matter of fact, he arrived before you did. 

After a brief interrogation and being escorted back home, you could finally breathe as you entered your apartment. The lights were already turned on (only to be plastered with webs…) and you found your superhero by your couch. His mask was off his head, revealing messy hair. He raised his head when he heard your door open. He then greeted you with a dopey smile. You waved.

“Welcome home,” he cooed. “Had a good trip with Captain Park?”

You rolled your eyes jokingly. “Yeah, Spider-Man saved me. Usual day.”

“Cool. He’s a cool guy, real smart. You’re lucky–ack!” Heeseung was about to sit more properly when he winced. He grasped against his left shoulder before folding into himself.

Panic rushed through your system. “Is it tight? Do you need a cold compress?” Before he even answered, you ran back to your kitchen to get your cold compress. You even picked up your handy first-aid kit. It had been prepared for moments like these, you have never been more thankful for your preparedness. 

You scrambled to be by his side. You were floating around him frantically. Heeseung let go of himself, making way for you to assess the damage. There were no scratches, but the fall must have bruised his back. The cold compress could soothe him, but the suit was thick. It wouldn’t have been as effective. Heeseung squirmed as he tried to stretch his shoulder. 

“Heeseung,” you called out to him carefully. “I need you to take off your suit. It might scratch your skin even more.” It wasn’t the first time he stripped in front of you. You had tended his wounds since university days. You had seen the amount of wounds and scratches on his body, and guilt wrung your heart when you were the cause of the bruises.

Heeseung complied easily. He peeled off the top half of his suit. Honey skin revealed under all the spandex, but there were blue and purple bruises that peeked from the back. You reached over the back with the cold compress, pressing onto his skin. Heeseung groaned in relief, holding onto your arms. 

“Just relax a little, Hee,” you cooed, brushing his messy hair away from his face. “Just rest for the night, okay?”

He nodded, before looking up at you with those doe-like eyes.”Isn’t it tiring to stand up?” He then patted his lap. “Come rest here.”

“What?” You looked at him in surprise. You ignore the rushing heat in your head. “Heeseung, this isn’t time for jokes.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “You’re gonna get tired putting the compress on my back. My legs are fine.” To prove himself, he even swung his legs back and forth on the couch. “You’re tired too. You literally got kidnapped.”

You couldn’t find the energy to argue, hence you found yourself settling on Heeseung’s lap. The weight of your body on his gave him great comfort, much to your chagrin. Nonetheless, you focused on the cold compress on his back while you looked over his body for any new wounds and scratches. The dirt didn’t even get into the suit, so that was a relief. 

Little did you know, Heeseung felt a bit choked up with you observing him so intently. His hands barely hovered your waist. The thin sweater fell onto the shape of your body nicely. You were straddling him on the couch, legs on either side of his hips. Your left hand was pressing the compress on his back, while your right was grasping at his arms. The heat of your skin contrasted with the cool fabric behind him. The tension never eased up on him.

You pursed your lips. Eyes filled with concern. “Heeseung, did you get injured anywhere else? You’re too tense.” You looked over at him again before you started to pull away from him. “I’ll go get another co–”

“No, wait–”

Heeseung pulled you back onto his lap. From the momentum, you dropped the cold compress on the side and the tall man leaned onto the couch. He  wrapped his arms around you tightly but his face nuzzled onto your chest. Through the thin fabric, you could feel his cheeks burn. You ran your fingers through his hair. He hugged you even tighter. 

“Heeseung?” You called out to him softly.

He mumbled, looking up to you. “Sorry…” Then, he slowly brought you down back to his lap–straddling him again with your thighs. An arm still embraced around you, while his other hand stroked your hair. “Just… Just glad you’re safe.”

“You’re the one who’s hurt.” You sighed, patting his chest. 

“I’ll get back up, I always do,” he reasoned, letting out a long slow exhale. “That shouldn’t happen to you, though. I promised myself you’d never get hurt.”

“I can handle myself just fine, Hee,” you said, careful hands exploring the skin on his shoulders. “Yo–”

“I know that,” he continued. He cradled your face in his calloused hands. He took your features in like it was a mere snapshot of his memory–he wanted to remember it forever. His thumb caressed your cheeks and your lips. His eyes turned lidded. You felt a pull towards him as you fluttered your eyes closed. “I just.. Didn’t want to lose you…”

When your lips touched, it was as if Heeseung could finally breathe again. He breathed in your scent, your warmth, and your life. His hands trembled as they made their way down to cradle your body carefully. Your hand found purchase on the nape of his neck, gently pulling the ends of his hair. You kissed him even deeper, not having enough of him. He pulled you as close as he possibly could, not wanting to be even a millimeter away from you. 

“I’m sorry for running away,” he whispered to your lips, before littering his heated kisses on the corner of your mouth down to the column of your neck. “I’m sorry for putting you in danger.

You whimpered at the sensation, and Heeseung stilled for a moment before continuing his onslaught of affection. You felt a little lightheaded when your thighs felt something hard. But, you pat his head. “I’m sorry too… For not being truthful.” Heeseung nipped at your collarbones and you let out a tiny moan. “I got ahead of myself.” 

Heeeung shook his head and a husky laugh left him. He pulled away to face you with a cheeky smirk. “Funny you say that, pretty,” he whispered, lips nearing yours again. “I think I’m getting ahead of myself right now…” He paused for a moment. “If you’d let me…”

You smiled before capturing his lips with yours. What once was soft, chaste kisses turned deeper, passionate, and desperate. Heeseung consumed you as his tongue licked over your lips and tangled up with your tongue. You moaned into the kiss as you started circling your hips against his–for any form of relief. Friction. 

Heeseung threw his head back as he whimpered. “Fuck, baby.” He bucked his hips against yours and he gasped. He knocked your foreheads together as he tangled his fingers in your hair. “A-are you sure? Are we going too fast? I-I mean I want this–”

You nod frantically. I want this.” You whined. “I want you. It doesn’t have to be–” You wheezed. “Everything. J-just..!”

As if he understood what you wanted to say, he kissed you once more. His hand wandered more boldly now. Winnow-like fingers peeked under your top, feeling heated skin. His touch raised up to scratch your back gently. You pulled away to catch your breath, but Heeseung tried to follow your lips. You huffed in amusement before pushing him back.

“God, baby, you’re so beautiful.” Heeseung swallowed hard as you peeled off your own top. His large hands explored the shape of your waist and how they flare towards your hips. He closed his eyes when you sneakily rolled your hips against his hardness. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Me?” You laughed heartily as you took your turn kissing his neck, being careful of his bruises. Heeseung leaned over his head. You suckled on his Adam’s apple. He groaned and bucked up at your center. You moaned. “W-why would lil’ ol’ me kill Spider-Man?”

“You vixen,” Heeseung complained, but his hand sneaked in between the two of you. You two moaned at the feeling of his hand against your wet folds–your panties drenched from arousal. Heeseung couldn’t help but grind up again at you, feeling the shape of your cunt against his erection. “You feel so good, pretty, shit.”

As he played with your pussy through your bottoms and panties, you lolled your head against his shoulder. You grasped at his shoulders before scratching him lightly when his thumb found your clit. You gasped and grinded onto his fingers. Heeseung bit his lips as he finally decided to pull your bottoms to the side, and you whined as bare, calloused fingers rubbed your wet pussy. 

“Heeseung,” you mewled, eyes rolling back as he circled your clit.  You grinded your hips as you remained flushed against him. Heeseung never felt harder than he was now. Your juices dripped on his hand and leaked against his pants. “So so good… P-please..”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, but Heeseung played you like an instrument. Slowly, he inserted a finger up your pussy and your jaw dropped at the intrusion. Fuck, his finger are so much thicker than yours. He fucked your pussy until your juices leaked all over. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” Heeeung gasped. It did not take long until a second finger entered you, and you already felt so fucking full you were going to lose your mind. 

“Oh god, oh god.” You mewled as you rode his fingers desperately. “Hee– You–Fuck, ahh…”

Heeseung smacked his lips, bewitched by your pleasured expressions and warm body. “That’s it, baby, give it to me…”

You let out a silent scream when his thumb catched on to your clit. Before you knew it, you saw white and your entire body shuddered. Heeseung bit back a groan as your pussy clenched his fingers repeatedly. Your juices overflowing in his hand. Your body went slump against him and a low whine escaped you as he pulled out.

He hugged you close, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head when you kept grinding against his erection. Still, he didn’t fail to suck the juices of your fingers. He licked his fingers all over, savoring your taste against his tongue. You tasted so fucking good he had to grind up against you. He bucked his hips against yours in a constant rhythm, chasing his high.

“You feel so good, baby,” he gasped into your mouth as he found your lips again. You could taste yourself from him. If anything, it invigorated you to grind harder, hooking your legs over his waist and pressing your wet cunt on his cock. That made Heeseung feel dangerously close. He’s lost in how you were riding him through your clothes. The damp fabric meeting in every grind, the wet slapping turning the both of you on more.  “Shit, baby, I’m– You can’t–”

“Please, baby,” you whined, “Cum for me, please please–”

With a choked cry of your name, Heeseung came with a violent shudder. He groaned as his hands stayed put on your hips, guiding your hips against his as he rode his high. You moaned softly as you felt his cock soften between your folds. 

The stickiness between you two slowly led him to his senses, but he still buried his face into your neck. He just wanted to keep you close. After blinking the aftershocks of pleasures away, embarrassment burned through him. The exhaustion also started to seep into his bones. The bruises felt a little more tender.

“Are you oka–” He started, but you just laughed. A soft cheeky giggle. He didn’t know if he’d be more ashamed or relieved. 

You looked up to him with a sleepy smile. “Never been better.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded his senses. The way you smiled tugged onto his heartstrings. “Good, good, good… We should–” He cleared his throat, suddenly finding the floorings and ceilings of your apartment very interesting. “We should clean up instead of being in… This sticky mess.”

You embraced him, your body slumping over him again. The exhaustion filed you too. “Yeah… We should.”

Heeseung started to massage your thighs. “You good…?”

“Yeah…” You started to mumble, eyes fluttering to a close. You yawned. “Just tired… And… Can’t move…”

Heeseung chuckled. “Okay, daisy, I’ll clean both of us up. Just sleep well for me.” He turned to kiss your temple. “Good night, pretty.”

“Good night, Spide…” Before you knew it, you got knocked out by sheer contented exhaustion. 

His heart wrung with affection. Heeseung, still in wobbly legs, mustered his strength to carry you to the bathroom. He perused the place like it was his own home. He tucked you to bed all cleaned and freshened up, while he took a quick shower before falling deep into your bed right next to you.

He wanted a good night’s rest too. 

When the sun leaked into your apartment, you were lulled awake. 

The cold breeze of air conditioning comforted you. A strong, built arm also wrapped around your body. You were pulled onto more warmth–your back hitting one’s bare chest. A sleepy smile etched your features as you felt hot breath skimming over your skin. Slowly, you turned to face your lover and your heart just soared at the sight.

Heeseung was still sleeping soundly. Pouty lips pursed because his cheek squished on his side. Messy hair all over his forehead. Long lashes stood out against his pretty features. You carefully reached to caress supple skin. Gentle fingers grazed his face before your palm cupped the fullness of his cheeks.

Your gaze traces down to the sculpt of his body. The prominence of his Adam’s apple. The healing bruise and wounds over his chest. Your touch trailed down to his arms and up to his chest. His skin remained warm and loved.

You could stare at him forever.

“What are you looking at?” Heeseung mumbled. Startled by his voice, you raise your head to face him—only to still be riddled with sleep—with one eye open. “Do I have something on my face?”

“None,” you whispered. You looped your arm over his shoulders. You then pulled yourself down closer to nuzzle your face against his neck. “Just watching your silly face.”

Heeseung chuckled. The sound gravelly with grogginess and its depth trembled against your skin. He brought his arm lower to enclose your waist around his arms. He pulled you even closer until your legs tangled with one another. His large hand settled on the lower end of your back. His fingertips, sensitive and prickly, hover on skin—drawing circles and loops.

“My face is not silly.” He argued, voice breathless as he took in your warmth. 

You tilt your head up to place a chaste kiss on his jaw. “Alright then, silly boy.”

Heeseung feigned a whine as he pulled you upward so that you two would be face to face. With the sudden movement, you anchored yourself by cupping his face once more. He leaned onto your warm hands as he reached out to cup your own. 

When your gazes meet, you hold back a giggle. Heeseung was barely awake and his pinky lips upturned on one side.  Still, you watched how his eyes sleepily peered over your own and down to your lips. If you squint, you could have seen his pupils dilate.

You sighed in amusement. You leaned in, knocking your foreheads together. Heeseung still dwindled in between consciousness. You could stay in this moment forever. You then asked. “Can I ask you a question?”

“For Spider-Man?” He teased, voice low and slow as he pinched your cheek. “He’s on leave.”

“No, silly boy.” You pinched him back, but a soft giggle still escaped you. “For Lee Heeseung.”

“What does the pretty daisy want from me then?” Heeseung murmured, trying to blink the drowsiness away.

You pulled away slightly, taking in his entire features. He was fully awake now, looking at you with innocent curiosity. You stroke his hair and down to his cheeks once more. Your heart raced in your ribcage.

“Do you think today would be a good anniversary?” You asked casually, trying to ignore the heat flushing your cheeks. Unfortunately, your nerves betrayed you as you looked away from Heeseung. “For us, I mean.”

Heeseung blinked at you. Once. Twice. Slowly. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Anniversary…?” The foreign word left his lips, as if his mind still tried to process its meaning. “Our anniversary? Like…” Then his jaw dropped. His eyes widened. He pulled away from you. Disbelief painted his entire body. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you echoed with amusement.

Heeseung broke into the biggest smile. “Are you serious? Really?”

“Well, if you don’t want to—“ You teased him, even pulling away completely from his body but Heeseung was faster—stronger—as he pulled you back to his chest. His arms enclosed around you tightly.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he whispered to the crown of your head. “I love you. I know it’s too early to say that, but I just wanted you to know—you don’t need to say it back, like, at all.” He pulled you even closer. “Just—thank you.”

You smiled onto his skin. “I love you too. Always have.”

You fought back a giggle when you felt his heart race. His body turned even hotter under your touch. He pushed you slightly, to face you. His face was entirely red, but the twinkle of his eyes was too endearing. 

“Is it official now? Am I really your boyfriend?” He asked in awe. “Really really?”

“Of course, you are,” you chuckled. “As I am your girlfriend now, right?”

“Absolutely,” he exhaled as he pushed you onto the bed. He was on top of you with the dopiest smile, then he dipped his head to meet your lips. Eagerly, you kissed him back, just smiling into his lips. Heeseung just littered sweet nothings on your skin, peppering kisses all over. The morning stretched itself into the comfort of you two—loved, content, and happy.

Truly a happy ending for—

NOTIFICATION ALERT. CRIME IN PROGRESS. RING! RING!

The two of you pulled away from each other—startled by the simultaneous alarms from your phones. You stared at your nightstand before laughing in disbelief. On the other hand, your newly officiated boyfriend pouted as he reached over to get your phones. He scratched his cheek as he sat up, scrolling through his police tracker app as he scoured your apartment for his suit. You checked your phone too. It was an email from Boss Seokjin. Surprisingly, he asked you for any updates with the article. That was a first.

Heeseung shrugged. “I think the police can handle a few hours without me…” He mutters under his breath, before checking in on you with a guilty look. “You’re gonna work on the article? I can give you what you need, no harm done, I promise.”

“I can figure it out,” you reassured him as you placed your phone back to the nightstand. You could just look into it later, you still had much to give to your boyfriend. 

Heeseung awkwardly did the same, seemingly still at odds to not sprint into any Spider-Man work, but how could he when he has the love of his life beautiful and pliant by the bed? All of his worries melted away when you looped your arms around your neck, pulling him back into your kiss. He melted in you as easily as how he was eager.

Yeah, he’ll figure it out, too. 

aerith's letter. IT'S FINALLY OVER. I hope you, dear reader, enjoyed it! this was a labor of four months and i'm so happy to have finished it. thank you for all the support for the teaser! i hope to share more of hee fics in the future!! maybe even more of spidey heey/n yay!

taglist. @stendy4life @baekgufx @isagistar @noisywonderlandphantom-blog @apriglw @aeraluvs @heeszesty @heelvcr @prettygirlthings-world @yunaandheeseungscorner @evnholic @honeymoonave777 @luvlee-hoon @cupcakecherii @jakeyyyjakexoxo @allupkaa @esz13 @nyfwyeonjun @02shuuu @stvrl0ststay @isalovebot @aishahahahhaha @vanheee @mothieven @thewonnie23 @insannities @enhypensxo @cosm1cgarbag3 @yangflavor1009 @aric1ta (pls lmk if i missed u or wrote ur user wrong... lowkey first time tumblr user here...)

[mintxsunoo]

COME TO SEOUL jake sim x fem!reader

in which jakes friends don't believe that you two are actually dating. what happens when he begs you to come back to seoul for a weekend?

college smau, fluff, swearing, y/n face claim is moka (dont shoot me); chaewon, yunjin, & iroha mentioned, hmmn that's all i think !!

notes she tryna ignore the fact that she asked for asks and she got them and now she actually has to write said asks😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i will get to them i promise, i js had this planned out so i'm posting this first :3

© mintxsunnoo, 2026.

[wispyn]

۶ৎ sweetbf!jungwon headcannons , mdni.

sweetbf!jungwon who one night, had a dinner with his friends. unfortunately for him, they decided that tonight was the perfect time to tease on your relationship. jake teased him, saying “i bet your relationship is so vanilla, you probably don’t even fuck her right.” jungwon let out an exaggerated sigh, hearing everyone around him laugh. “are you sure they even get intimate? won is too nerdy.” sunghoon adds, completely serious despite the smile on his lips. oh, they were so wrong.

sweetbf!jungwon who tells you about the dinner. he awkwardly laughed, remembering every bit. you on the other hand, were not completely amused. you grabbed his hand, dragging him to your room and shoving him on the bed. you even grabbed his phone, setting it down and pressed record. “we’ll show them how vanilla we are.”

sweetbf!jungwon who fucked you doggy style, your face buried into the soft pillow while the headboard aggressively smacked against the wall with every deep thrust. your toes curled into the sheets, the thrusting so intense you began to moan even louder. he was so balls deep in you, he didn’t even know he could go this far. or how your ass slapped against his hips aggressively, the view to him was the most ethereal he’s ever seen.

sweetbf!jungwon who didn’t expect the sudden switch when you crawled on top, his wet cock still in you as you fucked yourself. jungwon soothed you with his hands in your hips, but it didn’t last long before you picked up the pace. your hands pushed on his chest, moving your hips smoothly. his hands traveled up to your tits, squeezing them together, pinching at the sensitive buds. “wonniee, i’m gonna cum again!” you moaned. he whined at your words before you released all over him.

sweetbf!jungwon who preferred you always missionary. to see your beautiful face, and the faces you make while his fucked out cock still drilled into you, was the best thing ever. he chased your mouth again, kissing you deep and sloppy as his hips kept an intimate rhythm. you both had even forgotten that the camera was still rolling.

sweetbf!jungwon who fell asleep after having the most worked up sex ever. he slept on your chest, snoring quietly while you grabbed his phone and opened up his group chat. you selected the video and trimmed it, couldn’t help but giggle as it went through. minutes later, the chat came alive with on going messages, some praise, some jealousy. you loved your sweet boyfriend, and you hoped everyone would know that!

[ ©wispyn ] ,, all rights reserved.



[zreamy]

CLOSED MOUTHS

they say sharing secrets keeps friends close, but you and jake would beg to differ. it’s because you have secrets, or... one big secret anyway, that you’ve stayed so close. closed mouths don’t get fed though, do they?

pairing ✩ jake sim x fem!reader

genres: summer au, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, idiot in love | warnings: minors dni, #ControlFreakGirlSummer, only one bed but they know, down bad af jakeyn, they're kinda weird tbh, yn is soooo effing scared, jake is lowkey the only person in yn's world, so much kissing, author loves jake so jake mustn't suffer (too much) | word count: 32,154

playlist: same la by tiffany day ✩ tongue tied by grouplove ✩ the moment by tame impala ✩ champagne coast by blood orange ✩ ribs by lorde ✩ the bridge by kelala ft. pinkpantheress ✩ crush by solange ✩ 23:42 by rachel chinouriri ✩ lost island by enhypen ✩ tonight by girlsweetvoiced

from zo: haiiiii everyone hehe back sooner than i thought... thank u @asahicore for beta-reading as always love u so much and im literally the happiest girl on earth bc i get to see u so soon and for so long !!! uhm... for everyone else i hope u have fun w my silly summer couple and let me know what u think no matter what! (also can u believe i started writing this thinking there'd be no angst lmao) :D

There are any number of things to love about summer, but for you, the drive to Minjeong's beach house will always snag a spot in the top three. Of that, you are certain. Mainly it's because it's the only time of year none of your friends volunteer you to drive them somewhere. 

Admittedly, without riding shotgun in Jake's car, the drive up isn't quite the same.

Nothing about this summer feels the same. After handing in your final assignment, last month you crossed the stage to receive your diploma, with all of your friends and family cheering competitively in the audience. In two months, you will start your first ever adult job, kissing your girlhood goodbye. In two days, you will turn twenty-two, and for the first time since you met, you won't be spending your birthday with Jake.

But of course, riding with the girls is fun too.

Your focus can be a bit singular when Jake is around, so it's nice catching up properly. Together, you yell along to PinkPantheress with all the windows down, while Minjeong keeps her eyes on the road ahead. Slower songs in the group playlist give you chances to debrief, and laugh to the point of tears remembering some of the shit Aeri puts up with from some of the world's most questionable men. 

jaeyunie: How's the drive? 

you: it's really good actually i'm having a lot of fun rn, you're genuinely so jealous of all the fun i'm having i can't even talk rn i'm just so busy having fun without you.

jaeyunie: Wrong. You're so wrong I'm actually laughing at you, Yongie.

jaeyunie: I'm jealous of Minjeong getting to drive you around :( 

Jake is always… saying things. Things that give you butterflies, and then give your butterflies butterflies too. 

you: that could've been you.

jaeyunie: I KNOWWW I KNOW IT COULD HAVE I PROMISE YOU I KNOW

jaeyunie: Quit making me feel bad at work. 

you: soz. 

jaeyunie: Found out why Jaehyun and Yunjin broke up btw, more of an in person story though so remind me when I see you

you: YAYYYYYY can't believe they even dated genuinely how do they know each other.

jaeyunie: Discord !!! 

you: i have more questions 

“What you have, YN, is five seconds to put that phone down before I throw it out the window,” Yizhuo says, leaning over the centre console to scowl at you. “And if I hear a word about Jake Sim at any point in the next two hours, I'll throw you out the car too.

“I'm allowed to text my best friend,” you mumble, but you put your phone down anyway, tucking it under your thigh.

At the exact same time, in the exact same tone, all four girls say, “Ouch.”

“Best friend…“ Minjeong trails off, running a hand through her silky blonde hair. “I think you might have it worse than Aeri did with Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo was Aeri's ancient ex-boyfriend who used to smack himself on the head and call himself stupid whenever he made a mistake. Maybe if the thought wasn't so funny, you might have taken offence, might have stepped up to your or Jake's defence. In unison, Jimin and Yizhuo smack their foreheads and say, “Stupid, stupid Jungwoo.”

While you and Minjeong erupt into a fit of cackles, Aeri groans, slumping in her seat. “Don't remind me.”

“Wasn't he, like, forty or something?” you ask.

“He was thirty,” she corrects, defensive. “And that was two years ago, guys. I've done better.”

“I'd consider any guy who doesn't send shirtless selfies with the message, aren't I a big strong boy, to be better,” Jimin points out. “Even Donghyuck was better, at least he didn't send you any messages.”

“Jesus, I get it.” Aeri groans. “Can we go back to bullying YN for her made up problems?”

For a moment, no one says anything, and eyes dart around the car while trees and stretches of motorway blur by through the window. This thing with Jake — your friendship — has become a source of mild irritation with the girls, a bit of a touchy subject. Something you complain often about though make no effort to change. Attempt to change. Relationships, of all kinds, take two unfortunately, no matter how desperately you wish you could take control of Jake's brain and rewire him to like you back. For fear, perhaps, that Aeri's comment might have hurt you, it seems the silence is yours to break.

“You're on your own, Aeri. Yizhuo said we're not allowed to talk about him,” you say, turning the radio up so loud that SZA's new single makes the speakers rattle. 

“No, she said you can't talk about him.” Minjeong turns the volume right back down. 

“Yizhuo?” you ask, desperate for her to agree with you. 

“I'll allow it.”

“You like him, he likes you—your problems only exist in your weird, YN brain,” Jimin says, speaking for Minjeong. And apparently for Aeri and Yizhuo too if their disjointed chorus of, exactly, is anything to go by. 

There's no restraining the pit in your stomach. You've seen Jake like someone before, seen it a million times. How he turns to mush when a pretty girl so much as smiles at him, goes out of his way to be wherever she is. You know they're wrong, and that only makes your stomach feel worse. 

Jake tells you absolutely everything, whether it concerns you or not, anything he finds out is something you're going to find out as well. The guy's an open book, with you at least, and can't lie to save his life—by omission or otherwise. If he fancied you, you would know. In fact, he would have told you as soon as it occurred to him, blurted it out. 

“Only one of those things is true and I don't want to talk about it,” you say, unlocking your phone to text him again. 

At your request, they drop the subject. Minjeong goes on a rant about how the dress she ordered for graduation arrived yesterday, one whole month after the ceremony.

you: are you really not coming at all……..

you: you used to be so fun dude i miss you

“YN!” Yizhuo yells, reaching for your phone. 

“Done! I'm turning it off, see?” It does not help that you have a picture of Jake as your lock screen, which shows as you hold the power button. For the sake of your phone, and your life, you make a show of opening your bag and shoving it to the bottom before pulling the zipper shut. “Happy?”

In the rear view mirror, Yizhuo grins, leaning back and closing her eyes. “Very.”

At the rest stop, all of you get out to stretch your legs and pee, grabbing enough snacks to feed a small country before piling back into the car where Jimin takes over for the rest of the drive. You fall asleep as soon as you rest your head on the window, bass buzzing against your skull as your eyelids get heavier and heavier. 

It's only one long blink until Jimin parks in the driveway.

The Kim family holiday home is a sight to behold. A sprawling wood-clad fortress by the beach that has seen you at your best and your absolute worst. You and your friends have spent summer after summer visiting this large slice of heaven on earth, hoping its original pine floors and floor-to-ceiling kitchen windows will keep all of your secrets. So much has happened here, changed here, it's hard to believe you only stay for one week at a time. That so many of your life's keystone moments could be boiled down to twenty-eight sweaty days over the last four years. 

On the couch in the den, Aeri gave you first and only tattoo, a shaky five-pointed star right between your shoulder blades that your mother still hasn't seen even after three years. That was the summer before you and Jake spent two rounds of sardines hidden in the wine cellar. Pressed chest to chest between cool rows of sauvignon blanc, it's the closest to kissing you two have ever gotten, and you're certain if his phone hadn't started ringing, your lips would have bridged the centimetres-wide gap. And maybe then, you would have had something to talk about before bed beyond, that was… and, yeah, it was. 

When you get to your room at the very end of the hall, you dump your bag by the door and throw yourself onto the bed, spreading out like a starfish. It feels huge without Jake here to share it. Whether or not there's any real need for you to share a room on this trip is up for debate, but for as long as Jake doesn't make a complaint, you won't either. That first summer, you won rock, paper, scissors and got first pick of a room all to yourself, Jake lost and got stuck sharing with Jay. Before bed that night, he came to check on you and fell asleep at your side. It happened the next night too and by night three, with your heart pounding against your ribs, you suggested you might as well share the room. He agreed. 

On the pillow by your head, your phone vibrates. It's him.

jaeyunie: I have a job, dude. You gotta try it !!!

jaeyunie: I miss you more though :( 

you: i have a job too you know. i work at the very beautiful woman factory

jaeyunie: Ohhh I get it now…that explains a lot

jaeyunie: You're employee of the month then, yeah?

The great big grin stretching your mouth is humiliating, even in a room by yourself.

you: i've heard this before jaeyun thank you

you: wyd

He replies with a selfie, he's lying in bed frowning, the sweetest thing you've ever seen. On the wall behind him, you see his steadily growing collection of Polaroids. You're in almost all of them. 

jaeyunie: Tired af rn I'm gonna slump very soon wbu send a piccc

jaeyunie: Texting w one eye open wanna see you before the end

you: and you look very cute doing it

At his request, you take a selfie right where you are — after tilting your head a little to show your bare neck and tugging the neckline of your tank top down just enough to show the top of your lacy bra and adjusting your boobs in said lacy bra to make them look a bit bigger — sending it without thinking too hard about it.

you: our bed feels so empty bruh what are you doinggggggg

Jake types and deletes for a while before his message finally comes through.

jaeyunie: Noooo darling I'm sorryyyyyyy

jaeyunie: My pretty Yongie holy shit look at you

jaeyunie: Yk if I could be there I would bruh. I'm requesting PTO for next summer as we speak

jaeyunie: Fuck I really miss you :(

The squeal that comes out of you is wretched. Worse than the grinning from earlier, the grinning you haven't quite stopped doing as you writhe around on the bed. Maybe it's for the best that he's not coming this summer, he'll miss you more. And text you all about it. 

A throat clearing in the doorway snaps you out of whatever chokehold Jake seems to have on you from the other end of the country. It's Yizhuo and she's not pleased. 

you: yizhuo has a Water Gun so i have to go but sleep tight ok ily + imysm 

jaeyunie: Ilymmmmmmm

“I'm up, okay? No more Jake, I promise. Just put the gun down,” you plead, getting up from the bed and leaving your phone face down on the sheets. In the doorway, she doesn't budge, only closing one of her eyes and aiming the bright orange nozzle with one arm. “I'm coming, Yizhuo. It's alright.” In a very brave display, you don't even jump to check your phone when it vibrates. 

You make it out unscathed, joining the rest of the girls in the kitchen. Open cans of beer litter the worktop, and Jimin's speaker plays at full blast. You can hear Travis Scott so clearly you're not convinced he's not yelling in your head. Locating the blender is a five-woman task, and you celebrate by making a heavy handed cocktail while waiting for the takeaway Minjeong ordered in advance to arrive. 

Tonight is girls’ night, the first of the summer so far. Tomorrow, the guys will arrive and your group will be mostly complete. On Sunday, your birthday, Sunoo finally gets back from Erasmus, and everyone else will be here for the rager you throw every summer. 

Everyone but Jake anyway.

Minjeong's garden — her mum's garden — is beautiful, always more so than you remember during the gloomy remainders of the year, when you're lying in bed at night, replaying your summer memories and trying to fall asleep. Tipsy lengths swam across the pool; falling asleep on the linen couch, just out of sight behind Ms. Kim's pink cosmos; crawling through the gap in the fence to get their teeny private strip of rocky beach to skinny dip in the ocean—when it's quiet enough, you can hear the tide kissing the shore. An otherworldly saturation permeates the entire yard and even photos don't do it justice. Brilliant turquoise swimming pool and lush green grass. If your friends notice it too, how brightly everything shines out here, they don't mention it. Nothing bad could happen to you out here, you're certain you could weather any storm on earth if it was happening in this garden. 

With the long table and sliding glass doors at your backs, the five of you sit on the warm concrete by the pool, an excess of takeaway bags and boxes strewn between you. It's not so much a sharing platter as it is a, this is my dinner for tonight and tomorrow until we eat out on Sunday, situation. As nice as the quiet is, just you and the girls and no threat of being thrown into the pool by Heeseung and Sunghoon, it's a little strange without the boys. Jimin pushes her container away, every last morsel of jalfrezi eaten up, while your dinner still hasn't arrived. You watch as she sighs into the night sky, leaning back on her palms and envy her full stomach while yours rumbles quietly. 

“I don't know why you insist on ordering from Ayaz every summer when you know how long they take,” she says when she catches your eye. 

You toy with a loose thread on the hem of your nightdress. “It's my favourite.”

“Favourite? They're not even the best Greek place on the high street,” Minjeong points out. 

And she's right, unfortunately. Last summer, you and Jake took a trip to Gyros Heaven after the club and well… went to actual heaven on the first bite. However, though apparently none of your friends care, tradition is tradition, and when you first came here, you and Jake ordered from Ayaz and what followed was the best summer ever. Too much is changing this summer, too much already has changed. Graduation, job offers across the continent. In other continents. This could be the last summer you all get together like this and no one seems to care. Jake isn't even coming, and the other boys are skipping the first night. You've already checked the Nessfest website five times since you came outside, just to make sure something hasn't happened to cancel the whole thing.

Call it superstition or batshit crazy, you will have your chicken and lamb gyros with a bucketload of tzatziki to dip it into no matter how obnoxiously late it arrives. It's reliable, as close to something you can control as possible, their constant latecoming a complete non-variable—maybe the only one you have left.

You check the Nessfest site again. Refresh your emails. Reread the ticket confirmation. Text Jake.

you: do you ever feel like everything is changing in a way that none of us have any hold over haha

“It'd be kinda funny if they arrived early for once though,” Aeri says. “Like symbolic, you know? We've finished uni, we're starting our careers — our lives — maybe Ayaz could do with some change too.”

“I think I would shoot myself in the face if that happened,” you say, but it doesn't come out as light-hearted as you'd like for it to. 

Yizhuo lets out a surprised chuckle behind her cup, lips swollen and red from her extra hot tteokbokki. “Are you okay?” she asks, seeming truly concerned. 

You nod, smiling, even though you wish desperately for Jake to show up somehow. Materialise out of thin air or something, lift himself out of the pool and say, surprise! That was really funny, Yongie! HAHAHA that was just so silly! Isn't she so silly? He'd know you meant what you said, but he'd be able to swing it well, to add to it with his universal charm and help you land. Laugh first, properly, so you and everyone else could join in. 

“Well if they came early I wouldn't have gotten to sample your dinners, check for poison and all that,” you point out.

To this, they laugh, genuinely. Thank fuck. It's easy to laugh now that they are. 

Now that Aeri's laughing even harder as she turns her phone for you all to see. It's a picture of Jay leaning against one of the walls in the student union, posted to Sunghoon's Instagram story. He's dead asleep with his eyes and mouth half-open. To his credit, Jay's a good drinker. Never too rowdy or too emotional. Nor too argumentative or romantic. He's sleepy though, more so than usual. This photo is just one more in a folder of near-identical photos. Jay sleeping at the dinner table, Jay sleeping on the driveway of his childhood home. If you can think it, he's slept there. In the queue for Thirsty Thursday after pres. And, though not photographed, once during sex. 

“Well, it's nice to know he's enjoying the Pickle Club party they absolutely couldn't miss.” Yizhuo rolls her eyes, taking an irritated bite of her last chip. “Come on, it's gonna be our last time seeing some of those guys.” Her Jay impersonation is scarily accurate. “Suck my dick, Jongseong.”

You and Jimin can't stifle your laughter, exploding into cackles when your eyes meet. 

“At least Jaeyun has an actual excuse, if he can't get off work it can't be helped, but the rest of them… I swear to fucking God—” Minjeong cuts herself off with a sip of her drink. “Whatever.”

“It's not like he works weekends,” Yizhuo points out.

The desire to leap to Jake's defence is overwhelming, second nature even, but you bite your tongue. You had the same thought when he told you he wasn't coming. Asked if he couldn't even make it just for the weekend. I don't know if it's worth driving so far just for a night or two, Yongie, he said, while you tried not to burst into tears or punch him in the face.

“How about no boy talk?” Aeri suggests, taking a screenshot and sending the picture to the groupchat. All of your phones light up at the same time, buzzing against the concrete. “Not until they get here anyway, can't really avoid it then.” 

As soon as she says it, a message from Sunoo lights up your phones once more. It's a screenshot of the folder in his phone with all of the Jay sleeping pictures in it and the total is at 400. 

“If they get here,” Yizhuo mutters, raising her glass. “Cheers, then.”

All of you raise your drinks and clink them overhead, as a chorus of cheers! rings out loud enough to settle the unease in the back of your mind, even if only for a moment. You take a slow sip of your sun-warmed beer and the doorbell goes behind you.

Your dinner is here, right on time. 

The night slips away before your eyes, and it doesn't feel like long until you find yourself brushing your teeth after a cool shower in the en-suite. It's weird not seeing Jake's things with yours on the countertop. His cologne in the light blue bottle, his watch next to yours between the sinks. The bedroom is worse though, by far, one suitcase and one pair of house shoes. One body in the bed.

As much as you love this house, you hate this bedroom. All of its large windows are on the right side, giving you a beautiful view of the beach, the water. At night, the moonlight kisses the ripples, making it glitter. Having this ocean view however, means the lighthouse at the end of the dock casts its blinding beam into the room with a startling frequency. Even with your eyes screwed shut, you can see the shifting light behind your eyelids. 

Your phone lights up as soon as you get comfortable, Jake's name on your screen, stinging your eyes.

“You alright, Yongie?” he asks, calls out more like, as if he wants you to hear him over the distance and not just through the phone. 

Holding it an arm's length, you ask, “How drunk are you?”

“I just saw your text,” he says, ignoring the question you asked, but his softer vowels and higher pitch answer for you. He's tipsy. “Thought you were excited to spend time with the girls tonight, darling.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling your cheeks burn. “I was just being stupid that's all.”

Jake says nothing and over his silence you hear the boys laughing. Hear the opening and closing of a door muffle the laughter.

“That was actually your chance to tell me I could never be stupid.” To this, you hear his smile so clearly it's like he's here with you now and despite the ache in your chest, you can't help but smile too.

“I was thinking, Yongie,” he says. “I get it freaks you out, and that's valid, but I don't think everything's changing.”

“Ever heard of hyperbole?” 

“Ha ha. That was really funny, Yongie. Aren't you just so silly?” There's some rustling on his end before he speaks again. You can picture him quite clearly, lying down on the end of his bed, his hair covering his forehead, long enough to graze his eyelids by now surely. “How about we try and think of something that's never going to change so you can focus on that instead?”

If you'd been having this conversation last summer, you would have said this trip with no hesitation, but even this, your teenaged promise with — at the time — Jake's friends, feels less and less secure with each passing minute. Slipping like sand through your fingers. This summer, here, right now, you've got nothing.

“How about I come up with something?” he suggests after a while.

“Please.”

Jake doesn't seem as stumped as you, continuing right away. “You love me, right?”

“Sure.” You chew on your lip, concerned like you've made some grand admission, bared some precious part of yourself for him to look at. To hold up to the light and inspect. 

Another audible smile takes over his voice. “And you know I love you too, Yongie. That's not going to change.”

Heat lashes your cheeks, coats you from head to toe as your heart thumps away in your chest. That Jake can speak so definitively, with such conviction always scares you. He might be the most sincere person you know, completely earnest for earnestness’ sake no matter what. Everything he cares about he gives the utmost attention to, and you're no exception. He's proven that time and time again, he's proving it now. And yet, that nagging voice in the back of your mind won't quiet.

“But—”

“No, YN,” he says, interrupting you. “But nothing, I always will and you can count on that.” There's a certainty in his voice that forces a flutter in your stomach, a smile on your face. A certainty that makes you desperate to believe him. It feels like a necessity. “Change can be a good thing, you know. I think most of the time it's a great thing,” he adds.

“Why is it so scary then?”

“I'm not sure, darling,” he says quietly, like he really wishes he could give you an answer, like he's disappointed that he can't. 

You sigh and he yawns, though he vehemently denies sleepiness when you accuse him. “Good night,” you say anyway.

“Good morning,” he says, and it's the start of an endless back and forth.

The sound of the smile in Jake's voice only makes you smile too, heats you up from the inside out and reminds you just how lucky you are to have him at all, whether he's right next to you or on the other side of the country. “I'm really glad we're friends, Jake.”

A moment passes before he speaks, you can't even hear him breathing down the line. “Yeah, Yongie, I know,” he says before clearing his throat, sounding more awake than earlier. “I'd better get back to the guys. See you when you're back, yeah? I miss you already.” 

Jake doesn't even wait for your response before he cuts the phone and you can't keep your eyes open for long enough to think much about it as you fall asleep. 

Nessfest is a geographically confusing Loch Ness-themed carnival hosted on the east coast of Scotland. As is tradition, you attend every summer and spend the whole day catching sun and eating pastries. And like every year, you are staunchly against getting on any ride that can just be thrown up and taken back down again at a moment's notice, so you're stuck holding bags while everyone else straps themselves into swinging lawsuits waiting to happen. Without Jake, who's scared too, you have to do it all on your own, taking your job of live-texting him updates very seriously.

you: aeri threw up after the tilt-a-whirl

you: again

The sun is relentless, baking the concrete and your skin. Your feet are already tanning around the crisscrossed straps of your sandals, paler bands of skin on your shoulders where your tank top straps rest. Alone under a parasol next to a ride with five loop-de-loops in a row, you're on high alert, craning your neck and trying to spot the guys in the growing crowd. They were meant to meet you at the house this morning, but last night's drinking rendered them horizontal until noon. 

And that is okay. Change is okay. 

Inhaling slowly, holding the breath, and exhaling slowly is easier in the shade, but there's nothing you can do to stop the sweat beading along your hairline, no matter how many times you pat it away with the back of your clammy hand.

you: what are you even doing rn

you: please tell me if you're sleeping it's in the car next to hee otw here :/ 

“There she is!” Jay calls out in a hoarse voice, waving with his whole arm when you turn around. At the sight of him, and Heeseung and Sunghoon trailing behind, your stomach drops. Jake really isn't coming. It's strange seeing everyone without him. Seeing the boys without him. He was your first friend, your only good friend until you went to uni together. And even then, all the friends you have now were his friends first.

If it weren't for all the handbags you were wearing, you'd have jogged over to meet them halfway, but alas. They're gracious enough to do the jogging on your behalf, all three of them pulling you into the middle of a group hug and jumping around you. There are more long, sweaty limbs than you'd like to be embraced by at any one time, but you've missed them so much you can't find it in yourself to complain. Not properly anyway.

“Any chance you left someone in the car?” you ask, squinting up against the sun at them. 

Heeseung pulls air through his teeth and shakes his head. “Sorry, princess.”

“No worries though, birthday girl. You won't even notice he's not here!” Sunghoon grins for a split second before pressing his lips in a flat line, saluting and standing at attention like he's ready to serve his country through the fulfillment of Jake duties. “Can't share the bed though, bossman said no way,” he says, taking the girls' bags from your shoulders, so he can carry them. You don't stop him when he takes yours as well. To his credit, he looks kind of wonderful, a buff, compression-shirt-wearing ten out of ten with five handbags slung over him. 

“Give me some of those,” Heeseung mutters, taking Jimin's and Minjeong's bags for himself. “Making me look bad.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “You do that on your own. Look after your fucking hair, man.”

It's hard not to laugh at that, at least until Heeseung cuts his eyes at you anyway—that shuts you up quite quickly. Now that the guys are here, there are more targets for the line of fire, and you're not about to do the noble thing and take the fall for Heeseung. You wouldn't even do that for Jake. 

you: stupid stupid jungwoo son or heeseung's fried hair daughter? 

Unconcerned with how he looks, Jay cranes his neck to watch as the Loch & Key hurls your friends through the air. “Are—uh… are you guys mad at us? For missing last night?”

“Not any more than usual.”

He hums, resting his hands on his hips. “That's good then. A relief, I guess.” 

Ice cream wielding children rush by you, glittery green butterflies and purple thistles painted on their smiling faces. Their soft laughter makes you grin as their exhausted parents, miniature backpacks slung over their shoulders, trail after them, weaving through you and the boys while mumbling their apologies. Jake would think it adorable if he were here, clutch his heart and coo over their tiny giggles and hurried waddles. He's always been good with kids, relating and playing with your little cousins better than you ever have, braiding hair and coaching football. He'll be a great father and his children will be very lucky. His partner. It's easy to imagine him running after his own kids like that, keeping up though, and happy to do it. Just the thought of it, future Jake, father Jake, warms your skin, your cheeks. 

Meanwhile, present Jake, childless Jake, is ignoring your texts. Missing your birthday. You turn to Heeseung who's scrolling on his phone. “How was Jake before you guys left? He's airing me.”

He lifts his head at once, affronted by the very notion apparently. “Nah, no way. He drank the most last night, for sure. Didn't even wake up to say bye, dude's gonna be hungover 'til at least Christmas.”

A grin splits your face at the revelation that he's suffering for his crimes against you and your date of birth. The universe is fair and just after all. “Was it worth it at least? Your Pickle Party?”

“Pickleball, YN, ball,” Heeseung corrects, though Pickleball Party is not as fun to say. “I was fucked, man, can't really remember it if I'm honest. How about you though, how was your night?” 

“I figured as much, we saw the photos, but my night was so good.” You're not even exaggerating, you hadn't realised how much you needed time with just the girls until you got it. “And I have all of my memories.” 

“I remember enough to know Jake was with me and not you so…“ He shrugs with a shit-eating grin on his face, and he's very lucky you love him because if not, you would have pushed him to the ground instead of nodding nod with your jaw clenched, and muttering, yeah, well. 

Free from Loch & Key's deep blue clutches, the girls stumble down the stairs and into the waiting arms of the boys. Anyone watching might think it had been years since they'd seen each other, rather than a handful of days. It wells your eyes to see them all like this, overjoyed already just by the promise of the next few days spent together. Meanwhile, you struggle to adjust to the sight of them without Jake, feeling the void already. At least you've had time to get used to missing Sunoo, seeing as he left a year ago now, but even he'll be here tomorrow. As Jimin reaches out to pull you into the group hug, you think of Jake. Miss him.

you: what time do you get in tmrw?

suntori: like 9 pm ish at the airport and then ten thousand hours in the car to get to the house

suntori: pls get me a nessfest '26 shirt !!!!!!

“To the bar!” Aeri calls out, pointing in the direction of the margarita truck you frequent.

Heeseung actually shudders. “Sober weekend for me I think, sorry guys.”

Even though he mumbles his agreement, Sunghoon is the first to follow Aeri, Jimin, and Yizhuo through the crowd. Around Heeseung and Jay's waists, Minjeong snakes her arms. “Hair of the dog, boys,” she says, pulling them. “Hair of the dog.”

Under an air conditioned gazebo, you crowd around a picnic table and Jay buys you an Irn Bru margarita in a pitcher. Sitting across from you, Sunghoon tries the first sip of it and hums, his eyebrows knitting together. “It's good, you know. Surprisingly.” He slides the pitcher back over to you, but you slide it back.

“We can share it.”

As if terrified by your offer, his eyes widen and he shakes his head so hard his sunglasses slip from his hair down onto his nose. “No way, YN, I actually can't. Because you'll want me to drink again tonight and tomorrow and for the rest of the week. What do you know about moderation?”

“Not much.” You shrug, taking the drink in your hands and moving the straw to take a big gulp. It is good. Surprisingly. 

you: having a pitcher of irn bru marg u are so jealous rn

To sober Sunghoon's credit, he does a pretty good job as a Jake stand-in. Holding all the bags and phones while you sit in the shade, even standing if there's only one seat free so you can take it. The two of you eat candy floss and caramel coated popcorn while he gives you a play by play on last night's jaunt and follow the group from ride to ride, passing a yard glass of melting blue raspberry slushy back and forth. He even tries — and fails — to win you a stuffed animal to add to your collection. As the sun inches lower and lower, the crowd only gets denser, the lines longer. You and Aeri wait twenty minutes to use the toilet, shuffling into the same stall because the attendant is too busy scrolling through short-form videos with her volume on full blast to stop you. You pee first then Aeri goes. 

“I feel like a grandma, dude. I'm tired already.” Laughter and squeals and techno music muffle her voice as she shimmies her jean shorts back up over her hips.

Only when you've fully processed what she said does a groan rumble in your throat, agreeing wholeheartedly. There are still nine hours until midnight, never mind whatever godforsaken time it'll be when you crawl into bed and sleep. Alone. “Call me Jay the way I'm gonna nap at any opportunity.” You lean against the stall door with your mouth open and your eyes half-shut to make her laugh. 

“Him and Heeseung are kinda opposites like that, don't you think?” she asks, following you to the sinks. “Heeseung only has to close his eyes to fall asleep and that's before a drink.” 

“Was that last year or the year before when we lost him because he was sleeping behind the marg truck?” 

Aeri cackles, shaking her wet hands out in front of her. “Could Heeseung Lee report to guest services?” she says in a flat tone, just like the tannoy that had blared through the entire festival that day. “That's Heeseung Lee to guest services, please.”

You leave the toilets with your sweaty arms linked together, only to find everyone laying out in the grass. Sure enough, when you reach him, sober Heeseung is dead asleep on his stomach with his head on his arms.

you: was i annoying on call last night or smth… my bad my bad

To this, finally, Jake replies and right away. 

jaeyunie: Neverrrrr ❤️

jaeyunie: I miss you sooooooooo much

jaeyunie: Can call before bed if you're free? Facetime and we can watch Bee Movie if you want

you: ok. i miss you an adequate amount. i always want.

Next on Yizhuo's tight schedule, is the least intimidating, but by far most popular ride at the whole festival. The Rock Ness Monster—a Viking ride with peeling green paint where the boat curves towards the bottom. She bumps your hip with hers. “Are you two coming with?”

“Who's gonna hold your bags if we do?” 

“Ugh.” Sunghoon's head falls back, clearly sick of standing around while all the slightly terrifying, so-called good stuff happens on these insane portable roller coasters. “Don't be such a baby, YN. Even Jake can ride a viking boat.”

“Wow, Hoon,” you say, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “It's almost like we're two different people.”

At his side, Minjeong actually laughs out loud. “Could've fooled me.”

The burn in your cheeks is immediate, the sting behind your eyes. That no one leaps to your defence, that you feel like someone else should in the first place, is unsettling. Embarrassing, more like, to stand there, sandalled feet glued in place, body heavy with alcohol stirring in your sinking stomach, sweat laden and overheating. Saying nothing while your friends look around at one another and Jay mutters, “God damn.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. You're not in the mood to argue, not sure if you even have much of a case, so you leave everyone's bags at your feet and take the first step towards the Rock Ness queue. “Let's go then, since you all want to so badly.”

You walk quickly and blink even quicker, the only thing that could possibly worse would be to cry and bring the mood down. It's not even really that serious. Not at all. Your friends follow in silence while you pull out your phone to text Jake. Do you think I'm too dependent on yo—sense and shame wash over you, pulling your thumb down to the backspace key and clearing the message. Who cares what your friends think? Even Jake can ride a Viking boat, well so can you! It's not even about him anyway. You like roller coasters, it's just that these particular rides, with their semi-permanent nature, freak you out a little. 

At your place in line, a rush of peach hits you and two long arms wrap themselves around your middle. Minjeong. “My sweet lady,” she mumbles. “I'm sorry for saying that.”

Worse than everyone thinking you follow Jake around like a lovesick puppy, is them feeling bad for you, feeling bad about bringing it up. And here you are, with no Jake to follow, ruining everyone's mood. “It's fine,” you say, picking at the fraying hem of your jean shorts. “It's true anyway, I guess.” That's probably what annoys you about it, that she wasn't wrong.

Minjeong kisses the top of your shoulder, her lip gloss sticky on your skin. “We're all a bit too attached to be fair.”

As if to prove her point, the two of you stay clinging to each other, a sweaty waddling mass as the queue grows shorter and shorter until it's your turn to get on. You press your palm to the side of Nessie's carriage for good luck, safe travels maybe, like boarding an aeroplane, and end up sandwiched between Heeseung and Jay, bare thighs sticking to each other and the hot seat. It's a bit of a tight fit, squeezing all of you into the same row, against some kind of safety regulation surely, but the teenaged ride attendant barely looks up from her phone except to push the bar down over your laps. It's fun though, even you can admit that. Fun to laugh and squeal with your friends while Nessie's hinges do the same, rocking you back and forth and back and forth again. 

Heeseung's hair is dry as straw and the heat does nothing to help, so that when you get off the ride, wobbly-legged, it sticks up at all angles like he's been electrocuted. Yizhuo can't stop laughing, reaching up to ruffle the strands. A few of them break off when he does, flitting towards the ground, dusting his shoulders. 

“Jesus, Heeseung. Do you want a hair mask or something? A buzzcut, maybe?” Minjeong asks, her own bleached hair silky and long, a testament to her twelve step haircare routine. 

He rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. “It's not that bad.”

“It's literally breaking off in her hands,” you remind him, taking a tuft from his shoulder so he can see it.

“Good thing it's my hair then,” he says, yanking the cap from Jimin's head and putting it on his own to hide what's left of his hair. 

Yizhuo wipes her palms together and Aeri scowls. “Sure, buddy—not for much longer though.”

Sunghoon's film camera goes everywhere with him, but he doesn't trust anyone else but Jay to use it—and even that took proof of him studying up on film and passing a twenty-question quiz. With it — now that you've all reconvened after a much needed, well-timed nap — the two of them capture every single moment, a flash going off in some part of the garden no matter what. Jay standing at the grill in his Meat Master apron. Aeri pouring shots at the table. Yizhuo putting a pink tiara on your head at ten minutes to midnight. Heeseung and Jimin making out on the linen couch. Minjeong napping on the unicorn float. He gets a photo of everything and Jay gets a photo of him in the kitchen doorway flexing all of his muscles like a bodybuilder. 

Right when the clock strikes twelve, all of you run and jump into the pool, waking Minjeong who rolls over into the water with a start. A rowdy chorus of Happy Birthday begins before you've even managed to resurface, waterlogged and tipsy in the deep end as your favourite people celebrate you.

“Your shots!” Jimin cries out, pushing her hair out of her face. “You need to start your shots!”

You get out of the pool as fast as you can, running towards the table to get your phone before going into hiding. Jimin doesn't take long to follow, but a text from Jake stops you in your tracks. He'd sent it five minutes ago, right at midnight. 

jaeyunie: Happy birthday, Yongiiieeee!!!!!!! I love u so bad, ur my bffieee, I hope today is really special and I'm sorry I can't be there, but I promise I'll make it up to you, yeah? Can't wait to see youuuuuuu 💘🐉

The smile on your face is immediate, and if you weren't surrounded by all of your friends, you'd squeal. But you are, so you slip through the sliding doors back into the house and lock yourself in the downstairs bathroom to squeal — and hide — there. When you call Jake, he picks up right away, his handsome face filling the screen. 

“Hey, birthday girl,” he says, a breathtaking grin stretching over his lips and showing all of his teeth. “How are you feeling?” 

You're not sure where to start. How to properly express just how much you miss him. Closing the toilet lid, you take a seat and settle on telling him you're mad at him instead. “I'm very, very mad at you.”

“What have I done now?” His eyebrows shoot up and his voice is low, deep, which is very cool and very normal. 

“You ditched me.”

When Jake laughs, it fills the room like he's right here with you. “I'm not the one who drove all the way across the country, Yongie. You ditched me, alright? If anything, I should be very, very mad at you.”

“You can't be mad at me on my birthday. Maybe another day?” Against your arm, the tile is so perfectly cool you have to resist pressing your entire body to the wall. “Do you have one in mind?”

His smile only widens. It's unjust that someone so beautiful would be so far away—that that someone would be Jake. “Whatever you say, Yongie—I won't be mad at you today. Tomorrow though? I'm pissed tomorrow.”

Just the thought of it sends a rush of heat to the base of your stomach. You've sat in the stands at enough of his football games, and various other sporting stints, to know just how pissed he can get. And just how good he looks when he is. His clenched jaw and squinting eyes. The crease of his eyebrows, how his neck goes red. Pissed at you would be new, though. Nice, maybe. 

“I look forward to it,” you admit. “Will you show me Layla now? She's way more exciting to look at.”

The smile falls from his face right away. “Should I die?”

“Not just now. Maybe tomorrow while you're mad at me.”

“Have I ever told you how funny you are?” He squints a little, getting closer to the screen. “Where are you?” 

“I'm hiding in the bathroom. I think Jimin's waiting to force twenty-two shots down my throat.” Just the thought of it makes you shudder. At sixteen, taking a shot for each year of your age was a badge of honour. Now, however, not so much.

“You're in the bathroom? Downstairs, right?”

“Yeah, that's what I just said.”

“Open the door then.”

“Is my signal fucked?” You look at him on your screen, tilting your head. “I just told you Jimin's waiting to give me alcohol poisoning, I can't go out there for at least another twenty-four hours.”

“Wow.” Jake frowns. “I drove all this way and you don't want to see me?”

The words pull you up from your seat so fast you almost smack your head on the wall. “You did what?”

“Open up, Yongie.” This time, when he speaks, you hear him through your phone and through the door.

Hanging up, you adjust the straps of your bikini and straighten your tiara in the mirror, peeling back some of your soaked hair. For how much time you spent in the sun earlier, and in the pool just now, you look quite nice actually. A healthy glow to your slowly tanning skin, a slight dark ring of mascara around your eyes that thankfully looks more fun party girl than tearful party girl. You take a deep breath, it's only Jake after all—a fact that does nothing to ease your racing heart.

“Are you really out there?” you ask through the door, desperate to prolong the time apart that you'd loathed maybe one minute ago.

He lets out a chuckle, knocking gently on the wood. “I promise.”

Like something from your dreams, and just like he said, Jake's standing there with a huge grin on his face. He's the greatest thing you've ever seen. “Surprise!” he says. “Happy birthday.”

“How are you—” You pause, shoving his shoulder just to make sure this isn't a very realistic hallucination. Against your palm, his shoulder is very solid and very real. “How are you here?”

Jake's smile curls into something sheepish, his hands resting heavy on your waist. Burning your wet skin. “If you could take a week off from the beautiful woman factory, I figured I could take some time off too. Turns out having a desk job involves a lot of scrolling through r/niceguys and drinking free Gatorade.”

“You…” There are a million ways to end that sentence, but you settle for hugging him instead. He laughs, soft and happy, taking you into his strong arms. He smells like home, like the sweet citrus and bergamot that crowds all of your memories. It's only been a week since you last saw him, but it feels like a lifetime now that he's here. “I can't believe you're here,” you mumble into his T-shirt.

“You know I'd never miss your birthday, Yongie. Not for anything.” Jake brings his hand to the back of your head, gently stroking your wet hair. “I meant it when I said you could count on me.”

Tipping your head back is a small devastation, you miss his chest as soon as you leave it, but the sight of him is worth it. Of Jake and his sweet round, smiling cheeks, his dark eyes meeting yours right away. “But I thought you—” Realisation sets in belatedly, cutting you off. “So you lie to me now? Great. Your employment has made you ugly, Sim Jaeyun.”

He's the furthest thing from ugly you can think of, especially when he's smiling like this at you. Because of you. “Occupational hazard,” he says. “I'm being really brave showing my face right now, but I was sweating in my ski mask.”

“Good call. And speaking of, I didn't take time off work, I'm working remotely.”

Jake's grin takes up half of his face and sends your heart into a frenzy. “My bad, Yongie. Of course you are,” he says, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “You must be the exception, your employment's only made you prettier.”

“It's hard work being employee of the century,” you admit.

“Yeah, darling. I'm sure it is.” Before you can respond, or fully process the heat coating every inch of your skin, he speaks again. “How does twenty-two feel so far? I only have a few more months left to get ready, so you have to tell me everything.”

“So far?” There's no platonic way to say that twenty-two is perfect because he's here, so you shrug. “Not sure—” At the sound of Jimin's voice over his shoulders you flinch, hiding behind him even though it's too late.

“There you are!” She's wielding the tall bottle of Pineapple AU the boys got for you. Your gift. Yay! “Don't worry, you don't have to take all the shots right now, you can spread them out over the day. Eleven now, eleven later.” She looks a bit like she's had twenty-two shots.

“Jeez,” Jake mutters, getting a good look at her flushed face. 

“I'll come find you, Jimin.”

This seems to be enough to satisfy her, for now at least, and she disappears back down the hall, utterly unsurprised by the sight of Jake.

Alone again, finally, he smiles down at you. “I'll help with your shots, alright? Looks like I've got some catching up to do anyway.”

“Me too.”

While Jake gets changed, you head back outside and jump straight into the pool to shock the heat from your skin. It works. Until he walks through the sliding doors and into the garden. His black swimming trunks sit low on his hips. Arms bigger than usual when he crosses them over his chest, eyes flitting around the space until he finds you and smiles. Your heart beats in your throat as the rest of your friends spot him and rush over, enveloping him in happy hugs and excited chatter. They ask him about the drive and work and catch up like it's been months. Nobody mentions his huge arms or his toned stomach that seems more and more defined every time you see it. Jay hands him a beer and he pulls the tab while watching you, laughing at something, he waves at you, all alone in the pool now that everyone's bagged their spot in line at the Jake meet-and-greet.

Good for them.

You swim lazy laps to give your heart something normal to race over and he finishes his entire can before breaking away from the group and backflipping into the pool. You hate yourself for being impressed, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old girl fancying the fastest boy in class. This feeling, you know it well, because you were that girl. Jake was the boy. And now, when he resurfaces right in front of you, his hair sticks to the edges of his face. He doesn't push it back.

“Good evening,” he says, voice already taking on its soft drunken state.

“You're stealing my thunder, Jakey. At this rate, I'm sure you'll wear red to my funeral, or do the splits during the eulogy, or something else attention-seeking,” you huff, splashing him. “It's my birthday, you know.”

“Trust me, Yongie. No one could ever steal your thunder.” He grins, taking the pink tiara from your head and putting it on his own. It suits him. “And we're dying on the same day, remember? Joint casket.”

“I'm starting to regret our blood pact.”

“Our blood pact?” he repeats, incredulous. “How many times do I need to remind you that someone waited until my middle finger was gushing blood before she backed out?” 

“I was fourteen!” 

“I was thirteen!”

“And you were so, so brave.”

A moment passes while Jake seems to think about that. The pool lights him up brilliant and blue, water slipping in fast rivulets down his skin. Though not a new feeling, it's definitely an irritating one, an embarrassing one, to be jealous of the water. Jealous of how close it gets to be, tracing his cheekbones and acne scars, his stubble. And all with no consequence, no teasing or accusations of feelings. Feelings of any kind. Your hands twitch at your sides, pruned and desperate. Splashes sound from the middle of the pool, though neither of you look to see who it is. There's no need. You could recognise Jay's squeals and Aeri's laugh with your eyes closed. The price of summers and all the seasons in between spent together, you suppose. You'd pay it over and over happily if you could. If it meant you could always have this. It'll be difficult on Wednesday, when you all go back home and get ready to split off into your corners of actual adulthood. 

“I'm a coward now, is that what you're saying?” 

“I wouldn't have used those words, but I'm glad you did.”

Jake rolls his eyes and says, “Most people are actually nicer in the summer, you know.”

“Yeah, to you maybe. Because you look like that with your shirt off,” you say, surprising yourself and him.

He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “What does that mean?” 

You've already swum into the deep end of this conversation, so it's not hard to say, “I think you underestimate how much justice your body does you, Jaeyun.”

“That means a lot coming from you.” With a smile on his lips, he reaches out, toying with the string on your bikini. Cool water slips from his skin onto yours, painting a trail down your body and back into the pool. His dark eyes follow it the whole way, neck, collarbones, chest, until his gaze hits the surface, lingering on the flimsy blue cups holding up your breasts. It all happens so quickly, his staring and the pounding of your heart. The hitching of your breath. Of his. How he swallows, gulps, like maybe this is affecting him as much as it is you until he says, “You're a dream, YN.”

The word strikes you anew, your name from his sweet mouth. He so rarely calls you by your name that it's always thrilling whenever he does. Only ever beautiful, special, when he's the one saying it. And at the end of a sentence like that no less. A dream. Said so simply and just for you. You should be over this by now, over him, but still — again — your breath hitches and a flare of warmth sets your skin ablaze. 

“You know that though, don't you?” Jake's voice is quiet against the sounds of everyone else — cans and cups clinking, lyrics screeched off-key — yet it's the only thing you hear clearly. “I've always known it.”

On his head, your pink tiara sits crooked. He almost looks silly. He does look silly, and maybe, if he'd said literally anything else, this fact, this sight, would make you laugh. But no, he didn't say anything else.

Attraction and romance are not the same. You know that well enough. It's taken a lot of kissing frogs to drill it into your head, but you've done it, and you know. Regardless, hearing those words from your Prince Jake is doing a very good job at shaking that knowledge loose. It's only when your back hits the tile that you realise you've drifted into the corner of the pool. He lets go of your bikini, palm resting by your arm on the pool's edge, boxing you in.

To your silence, he says, “I guess I gotta say it more.”

“Is that right?” you whisper.

When he nods, the tiara falls with a measly splash, bobbing along the surface between you. Neither of you lifts it.

“You've got a lot of catching up to do then. Like, ten years worth.”

“Thirteen,” Jake corrects. “Thirteen years worth.”

“I look forward to it.”

A smile breaks out over his face as he picks up the tiara. All the chlorine has spoiled the rhinestones, turning them matte. Gently, he pushes your hair away from your face and sets it on your head again, fixing the little combs so it stays in place. “You're beautiful, Yongie. You're very, very beautiful,” he says. Admits, maybe.

You let out a breath, hoping it can pass for a laugh. Hoping Jake doesn't notice how all of your breaths have been coming out in a bit of a hurry. “Well, I don't work at the beautiful woman factory for nothing.” 

It's Sunghoon's announcement of a very friendly game of chicken fight that breaks up your… moment. You're thankful, actually, it gives you some room to breathe, to smile like a maniac while Jake looks over his shoulder at the group. Nobody has to tell you to get out of the pool, you don't waste a second hoisting yourself over the edge. Jake does the same, trailing water all the way over to the electric grill where he dries his hands and ties Jay's apron around his waist. 

“You hungry?” he asks. “The real Meat Master's back in town, baby.”

“Not really.” You scowl, taking a step away from him. “And don't let anyone else hear you say that, okay? They won't be as kind as me.”

Red covers his cheeks and his ears and his neck as he heads for the kitchen. “Yeah,” he says. “You're probably right.” 

Despite this, his blunder, you can hardly tear your lusting eyes from his body, the flex of his muscles as he walks, the cinch of his little waist, swimming trunks sitting low enough to show the dimples in his lower back. How the water trickles slowly from his shoulders down, the warm kitchen lights making him glow. 

A pair of dripping arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind, making you flinch as Minjeong's chin rests on your shoulder, easy to identify by her touchiness alone, but her shimmery peach tanning oil gives her away. Her damp skin sticks to yours. A kiss pressed to your cheek. “I take it you like your present?” she coos, rocking your bodies back and forth. “It was my idea by the way, to surprise you, if you were looking for someone to thank.”

How touching, that your friends care enough to deeply upset you with your biggest fear and then quickly resolve it like nothing happened. Maybe change, as Jake had said last night, isn't as bad as you think. More than anything, you're alarmed by the fact that the best gift you think you could possibly receive is his presence. How disturbing, that you love him this much. 

“Thank you, Jeongie,” you say, dragging the E for as long as you can. 

Again, she kisses your cheek, mumbling, of course, against your skin. “What was that in the pool? You two all pressed up in the corner…“ Her voice trails off into a whisper as Jake comes back outside with a plate of samgyeopsal and chicken sausages and mushrooms in his veiny hand. Maybe you are hungry after all. “It was extremely hot to watch, I think he was genuinely a second away from tearing your bikini off.”

The thought of it makes you shudder, what might have been were you two alone out here, if Jake wanted what you did. Wanted you. If he'd tugged on the string of your bikini top and taken what you want him to have. You're a dream, YN. You can't help the heat in your cheeks and between your thighs, can't help but watch as his thick fingers turn the knob that starts the grill. As they skewer sausages and slabs of halloumi before carefully placing them on the rack.

Minjeong uses her clammy hand to close your mouth. “Fuck,” she mutters. “I think I get it now.”

Before you can tell her to back off, she's running over to the pool, waiting to sub in for someone. It'll be Yizhuo most likely, who keeps throwing herself from Sunghoon's broad shoulders, for no reason other than liking the feeling of falling into the water. He's too polite to express his frustration, but you can tell from the way he rolls his eyes every time she does it.

“They're pants,” Jake says, nodding over at them as he flips the skewers. “Utter pants.”

You wrap yourself up in a Spider-Man beach towel and sink into the chair closest to the grill, to him, sitting with your legs crossed. “It'd be unethical to play against them, seeing as we're professionals and they're… well, they're pants, like you said.” 

Last spring, Sunghoon announced in the chat that you'd be playing chicken fight for money, and it was all you could to do to take up Pilates in preparation—you had probably the strongest core out of everyone here, and together, you and Jake robbed your friends blind, then blew your winnings on a weekend trip to Naples to celebrate. This year however, you and Jake are barred, and your core strength has gone to shit without something to motivate you in the gym. 

It's for the best probably, your practice rounds were always garbage because you couldn't focus with Jake's head between your thighs or his huge hands gripping your soft flesh. The way his breath would hitch if you tugged on the right strands of hair by the nape of his neck.

Fuck. 

Pushing some of your wet hair back from your neck, he smiles down at you. “I took three of your shots, by the way.” 

“My knight in sweaty, muscular armour, wow, Jake.” Looking at him now, with the overhead lights making him glow around the edges, the sweet curve of his pink lips, it's like looking at an angel. He is an angel, you are absolutely certain. Your lovely, beautiful, soft-lipped angel. “I could kiss you,” you blurt out, covering your mouth with your hand to keep in the rest of your thoughts.

He laughs at that, a rushed exhale that he doesn't address before blowing on a skewer of halloumi. It's hot, clearly, because he huffs around the little chunk he bit off. Again, he blows on it then holds it out for you. “Here, Yongie,” he says softly. “Careful though, yeah?”

For a short while, you eat like this, sharing a Heineken with Jake until, naturally, at the sweet sizzle and smell of pork belly coming off the barbecue, everyone comes rushing out of the pool and over to the table, filling all the seats around you. Jay helps plate the food as Jake shuts off the grill, taking off the apron and mumbling at you to sit properly. It's hardly a second after your feet hit the warm tile that he sits in your lap, settling with his back pressed against you and his plate in his lap. To calm your pounding heart, you have to breathe manually, in for three and out for three, but it's to no avail as Jake plays with your fingers and passes food from his plate straight into your mouth. Trying to follow the conversation is impossible in these conditions, so you strain to listen to Tiffany Day's album whispering out of the speaker and chew on yummy samgyeopsal, ignoring the feel of his fingers on your lips every time he feeds you, ignoring how he makes a point to look straight at you, into your eyes whenever he does. 

At Jimin's request you take a shot and then another, both poured carefully into your mouth by Jake who can't stop laughing. 

“My good girl!” she cheers, a proud smile on her face as she points at you with her chopsticks. “Two down, twenty to go!”

You take another two, then down a full glass of water.

As the guest of honour, you're relinquished of clean-up duty, and your friends diligently snatch anything you dare to lift or stack to help. Your adamance gets Jake kicked out too, the two of you relegated to the linen couch. As soon as you sit down, he pulls your legs over his. His hand covers your knee, tracing shapes into your skin with his thumb. Sometimes it feels like he has to touch you at all times, like his life depends on his proximity to you—sometimes it feels like yours does too, to him. Given the years you've known each other, the years you've gone on like this, you should be used to it. You're not. When he touches your necklace, the star pendant resting on your chest, you have to put in effort not to shiver. 

“I can't believe you still wear this,” he says, the words garbled by a yawn. 

“I haven't found one I like better. What's your excuse?” you ask, nodding towards the identical star sitting beneath his collarbones. 

“Feels weird when I take it off. It's like a little piece of you or something.”

“Or something,” you repeat, understanding. 

It was a Christmas gift, years ago now. They both were. Something you saw that simply screamed Jake. Apparently, he thought the same, seeing the exact same necklace and hearing your name instead. It felt like fate when you exchanged presents that Christmas Eve, and even now, though most days you forget you have it on, you're not convinced it wasn't. 

With his rosy knuckles heavy on your skin, the necklace feels brand new. Jake has a funny way of making things feel new, making the simplest of moments exciting just because he's there. Swimming. Eating pork belly. Sitting on the couch. He lets go of the star, tucking your wet hair behind your ear before squeezing your knee.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“I'm just happy, Jake. I'm very, very happy right now.”

“Good, Yongie. I'm very, very happy too.” He yawns again. 

You roll your eyes, but you can't stop smiling. Can't stop the flutter in your stomach. “My thunder, Jaeyun. Leave it alone.”

When Jake yawns for the third time, you decide to retire, ignoring the chorus of boos that follow you back inside until he slides the back door shut. “Should I lock it?” he asks.

You actually have to think about it before you shake your head, leading the way up to your room.

In bed, showered and sleepy, the two of you lie very still, staring up at the ceiling. It's far too hot for a duvet, but you can't sleep without being covered, so a thin white sheet sticks to your skin. Each time the lighthouse beams into the room, the two of you laugh into the quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” A giggle breaks through your question, bright white shining through the window.

“Anything, Yongie.” He's more tired, and tipsy, than he let on downstairs. You can hear it in his voice, how slow and whiny he's being. “You know that.”

“Does you being here mean you didn't get me a present?”

Turning to look at you, Jake scoffs. You don't dare to look at him. You can't. Still, he asks, “Am I not enough of a gift?”

For the better you think, he has no idea how much his being here means to you. “I mean… maybe if we were watching Bee Movie or you'd brought Layla with you.”

“Okay, Yongie. Fine. I see how it is.”

Right when you look at him, the lighthouse sends another beam, carving his face out of the shadow. This time, you can't laugh. Can't do much more than stare at him. The curve of his pretty lips, his sleepy eyes on you. Pink on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. You feel very lucky getting to see him like this, and your birthday of all days. 

“I'm kidding,” you whisper, afraid of what your voice might sound like if you speak properly. “Kind of.”

Mercifully, the beam slips out of view, leaving him in the dark. No matter though, because you can make out his silhouette as he sits up and leans over the end of the bed. He opens the drawer of the nightstand and puts a small velvet box into your hands. “It's not Layla, obviously, but I hope you like it anyway.”

“We'll see.” 

Sitting up too, you lean on the headboard and open it. A thick heart-shaped pendant greets you, a locket, you realise when you take it out. The metal is cool in your palm and the light shines through the window, showing you what's carved on the front of it. Your stomach drops at the sight.

“Happy birthday, YN.” Jake clears his throat. “It's a dragon.”

When you first met, the first thing he ever told you was that his zodiac sign was a horse. You were nine years old back then, a Leo, and the first thing you did when you got home was look up animal zodiac signs on the family computer. The next day, you got to class and proudly told him that you were a dragon—your favourite of the twelve animals available. Yong, he said. That's dragon in Korean. Unfortunately though, like every other 2002 baby, you were a simple horse, but the nickname stuck.

“Yongie,” you say, heart beating in your throat as you run your finger over the tiny dragon. 

He's smiling when you look at him, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah, Yongie.”

Every last detail of this moment latches onto you with unbearable strength. Small wings against your thumb. Laughter ringing out from the next room. Jake. His eyes on you. His gorgeous smiling face and the tumble of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of that smiling face. Summer's hot claws sink into you, leaving their mark on your sweaty flesh. If he asks again, how twenty-two feels, you hope you can relay this to him. And you hope you can sound very platonic and normal when you do.

“Can you… would you help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

You face the windows and unstick your hair from your back. Jake's hands are warm, burning your skin as he loops the necklace around your neck and fiddles with the clasp. Time seems to slow, his breath fanning the nape of your neck. Against your ribs, your heart races. It doesn't settle even when he's done and his touch is a memory.

“There,” he whispers, the sheets rustling as he moves away.

“I love it, Jaeyun. Thank you.” You can't look at him. Not now. Not with tears stinging your eyes. Instead, you wrap your hand around the locket, warming it in your palm. The word feels small, not enough for the swell of your heart in your chest. Not enough for the tumbling in your stomach.

“Good, Yongie. I'm glad, that makes me really happy.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I didn't put a picture in it, but if you have one in mind, I can take you to the printer and get it sorted out.”

“That would be really nice.”

For a while he says nothing. And you don't move. You don't even squint when the light shines through the glass, frying your retinas. Before you see Jake, you feel him. Feel the solid heat of his chest pressed to your back, feel his hair tickling your thigh when he cranes his neck to look up at you. In the dark, concern scrunches his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Jake. I just—” Saying the words always feels like torture, like you're being punished for your feelings. As if unrequited love isn't punishment enough. You have to swallow around the lump in your throat before you continue. “I really, really love it. I love you.”

His smile crinkles his eyes. “And I love you,” he says. Easy as ever. Because when he says it, he doesn't mean anything more than those words. Anything more than a friend loving a friend in the way they should. “More.”

You don't, you think. You couldn't. “I know,” you say instead.

When Jake rolls over, lying on his back again, you curl into his side. If you can't have him the way you want to, at least you can have him like this. Cuddling in bed despite the sticky heat, his arm around your waist, your head on his chest. Falling asleep together. As friends.

You wake up to your phone ringing on the nightstand, alone in the bed. Jake's side of the bed is still warm when you touch it, his scent tickling your nose. It's ten a.m. and your mum yells into the phone, “Happy birthday, sweet pea!”

Her voice is loud and lovely as always as you pull the phone from your ear. “Thanks, Mum,” you mumble, still adjusting your eyes to the broad daylight and bright sun beaming into the room. “Really.”

“You sound tired, are you still in bed?”

“It's ten in the morning.”

“That's practically five p.m. to you,” she points out. “Hangover?”

“Not really,” you say. “Not yet.” This morning has been gentle to your body, because you were gentle-ish last night. Tomorrow morning, however, you're not sure will be the same. Admittedly, with Jake at your side and your necklace burning hot against your skin, sleep was hard to come by.

“Where's Jake? Can you put him on the phone?”

“I don't know, I just woke up.”

Without another word, your mother hands the phone to your father who says, “Hey, love. Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Is Jake around?” 

“No,” you say, and the conversation doesn’t last much longer.

Birthdays are very strange, only made stranger with each year that passes. People from all dark corners of your life creep out to greet you. Failed situationships — your fault — worming their way back into your life with an HBD! Since starting university, your messages have been relatively quiet, since you've been spending your birthdays here with everyone who you actually want to hear from.

You're on your tenth variation of, thank you, angel, when Jake opens the door. “Ugh,” he groans, looking over his bare shoulders at you. “I really hoped you'd still be asleep, I haven't even lit the candle yet.”

“Candle singular? Wow, Jaeyun. You really didn't have to. I'm honoured,” you say, though no amount of sarcasm could calm the fluttering in your stomach or cool the heat on your cheeks.

Jake's grinning when he turns around, clearly proud of himself and the stack of pancakes he's holding. Stuck into their syrupy centre is a glittery candle in the shape of a two. “Happy second birthday, Yongie!” he says, kneeling by the side of the bed.

You can't help but grin. “I'm two!”

“This was funny in my head,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose. “If you can believe it.”

“It's funny in mine too.” 

He lights the candle and tells you to make a wish. Screwing your eyes, you do just that, blowing out the flame in a hurry so you can look at him again. At the lopsided curve of his pretty lips. Jake climbs back into bed beside you, making sleepy conversation while you eat your birthday pancakes—until he falls asleep anyway, keen to complete his eight hours. 

Fed and watered, you wash your dishes in the sink, liking the rush of the warm water on your fingers. The repeated motion of dragging the sponge over your plate. It’s actually fun to do it, to see your progress with each swipe, to have complete control over an outcome. Now that you’re here, enjoying yourself, you tackle the surfaces too, cleaning the stove and the countertops until they sparkle, and Aeri gasps at the sight of you, running into the kitchen. She clambers over the countertop to reach you quicker, handprints left on the dark wood, but you can wipe those up later. 

“No way, no way, no way!” she squeals, taking the locket in her hands to get a good look. “I hate to give credit to a man, but this is perfect, YN. I'm so happy for you.” She wraps her arms around you in a tight squeeze, unconcerned by the dripping sponge in your hand. “How did he tell you? Am I the first to find out?” 

You don't even have time to process or share in her excitement before Yizhuo comes in from the garden, wet hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head. “Find out what?” she asks, pulling her blue towel tighter around her body. 

“I was just about to ask.”

“He gave her the necklace,” she explains, gesturing with both arms to emphasise the the. 

Pushing her sunglasses up, a flicker of recognition dances across Yizhuo's face, widening her eyes at your chest when she crosses the room. “Great news, obviously, but I'm not sure how this changes anything.” She hugs you too, kissing the side of your head. “Seeing as you were fucking in the pool last night anyway.”

“Who was fucking in the pool?” Sunghoon asks from the doorway, wet hair clinging to the harsh lines of his face. At the sight of the necklace, he smiles, jogging over to join you all, hugging you just like the girls did. “Took him long enough! Good birthday so far then?”

You pry his ginormous arms off of you, squirming to freedom and stepping away. All of them watch you with huge grins, some of the happiest faces you've ever seen, but before anyone else can come in and continue this ridiculous game of broken telephone, you set the record as straight as possible. “No one was fucking in the pool, no one told anyone anything. What the fuck are we talking about right now?” 

Aeri's smile drops. “Wait, so how did you get that?”

“Jake gave it to me, which you seem to know.”

“And he didn't say… anything?” Yizhuo's eyebrows furrow. 

“Not much more than, happy birthday, and, it's a dragon.” 

“Oh, okay. Ignore us then.” Sunghoon clears his throat. “Pool?” 

And so begins a birthday like any other, at least since you started university anyway.

You laze around the garden, day drinking lightly and snacking heavily. Taking bikini pictures for Instagram and slipping in and out of heat-induced naps until it’s time to get dressed and head out to dinner. 

At the same long table in Seaside Gusto, you sit between Jake and Jay like always. You and Heeseung switch cocktails because you like each others’ better, and at Minjeong’s request, everyone goes around the table and shares something they love about you. 

Tears sting your eyes, beyond touched by all the nice things they say, no matter how silly some of them are about it. Yizhuo loves your boobs and butt; Sunghoon loves your summer birthday, because there’s always something to look forward to after exams; and Jimin loves your commitment to overthinking, crediting it with solving all of her problems with no stress on her end. For Minjeong, it’s your loyalty, and Aeri says you paint her nails the best. Heeseung loves your pretty face, and Jay loves your honesty. Last to go is Jake who only stares down at his plate, his silence making your leg shake under the table—now the only quiet one in the restaurant. 

Nobody says anything or makes a sound at all, save for your fork scraping parmesan around your plate. “Wow, Jaeyun, am I that bad?” you ask, and it’s supposed to be a joke but you just sound upset, pathetic. 

So much so that his face softens and he shakes his head, hand resting on your bouncing knee. “Are you kidding?” His voice is soft, laced with a concern he usually reserves for when the two of you are alone. 

When you don’t respond, Jake clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, taking a sip of water before speaking. “I was thinking about the right way to say this, but I guess it’ll be easier to just start talking and see where I end up, you know? Like Jay kinda.” There’s a smile on his face, handsome as ever, but he’s fidgeting with his trouser leg, scratching the side of his chair, tense even though he’s made you all laugh.

It’s been an age since you last saw him this nervous, this uncertain, so long that you’re just pleased you remember how to calm him down. You take his hand in yours, playing with his fingers the way he liked when you were younger. It takes a beat, but, sure enough, his shoulders fall and his shallow breaths level out. 

“I was really shy as a kid, sensitive, so I had no friends until I met YN. She was the first person to make an effort with me, or to make me feel like I was worth the effort, I guess,” Jake says, giving your hand a squeeze. 

Some twisted combination of his admission and the pressure is all it takes for your tears to spill, running hot and fast down your cheeks. That anyone could have looked at sweet little Sim Jaeyun with his missing incisors and been anything other than adoring hurts your stomach, that anyone could have made him feel less than, and for all your closeness you had no idea. Your vision blurs, the lump in your throat heavy when Jay hands you his napkin. It’s for the best that Jake doesn’t look up from your locked hands in his lap. 

“Everything I know about friendship I learned from her. So what I love about you, Yongie, is that you care a lot about others, and you cared a lot about me, you know?” 

Around the table, all of your friends coo and fuss over Jake until his face goes bright red. The heat in your cheeks burns with the same frenzy, spreading to coat your neck and chest. It’s only now that he looks at you, wet-eyed and smiling. Beautiful—always beautiful. 

“That was perfect, Jake. You said it perfectly.” 

With a brilliant smile on his face, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and leans towards you. “I really think you saved me, YN,” he says. 

For dessert, the butterflies in your stomach have a giant wedge of tiramisu with a candle in it, and because your heels ache your feet, Minjeong gives you a piggy back all the way home. Curled around Aeri, you take a nap on the couch in the den and right when you blink your sleepy eyes open, everyone else is setting up the house. 

Together in the en-suite, you and Jake get ready for the party you can already hear starting downstairs. Music rumbles in from all angles while he gargles mouthwash and you take your makeup off with a cotton pad. It's always fun getting ready with him, even if you take significantly longer, because he doesn't rush you. He's like Minjeong in that way, or any of the other girls, there's just something nice about doing it with someone. Sharing gossip and mascara, spitballing graft techniques and peeing in the same stall. 

It’s only your life-threatening crush that makes him different.

Swiping the cotton pad over your eyes, it’s hard not to think about what he said at dinner. You’d been such similar children, bonding quickly over LEGOs and wrestling and painting your nails. It was you who showed him Rayman Origins and he who showed you Hannah Montana. It didn't matter very much that he was a boy, didn't matter at all, he was just Jake. Your friend. Your person. And how much easier it was then, to be around him. To be hugged by him, to have your hand held, without reading into it. Without wondering how long you'll be able to have him in this way before he inevitably meets someone who doesn't like how close you are. How he tucks your hair behind your ear or calls you darling.  

He blocks your view of the mirror with his face, leaning in. At the sight, at his closeness, your stomach does a twirl. Splotchy red around the perimeter, a handful of freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. “What's the matter?” Jake asks. 

“Nothing.” Your voice comes out softer than you'd like, hardly a mumble over the music.

His gaze flicks around your face, catching every feature before catching yours again. “Your eyes are all watery,” he says, but doesn't move out of the way so you can see in the mirror or have a try at breathing normally.

It's only when you blink that tears fall. Not a lot, but enough for him to frown. You can't even begin to explain what you're crying about, at least without giving yourself away. He cups your cheeks with his hands, thumbs wiping your tears away, and making your breath hitch. 

“Hello,” you mumble, sniffling.

A smile plays at the corners of Jake's lips, giving way to a tiny curve. “Hey, YN.”

“Hi.”

“Do you wanna skip this thing? Sneak out and see the lighthouse instead?”

As tempting as his offer sounds, sitting out on the edge of the dock and eating salty fish & chips while the sun goes down, you're a little too excited for tonight to pass it up. This could be the last birthday you celebrate with all of your friends under one roof for a while now that everyone's employed. You shake your head, leaning into his touch. “I'm good, Jakey. Just really happy.”

“Good, Yongie,” he says, a bright smile covering his face. “I'm glad.”

You're not crying anymore, you weren't ever really crying — not properly anyway — but Jake doesn't let go and you don't move away. The moment stretches for longer than you're sure is fully friendly, long enough that your eyes catch his lips, long enough that you notice when his eyes catch yours. His furrowed eyebrows smooth out before raising for a split second. He's everything, the entire world and more standing right in front of you, with your face in his hands. 

It occurs to you now, like this, the fundamental difference between a need and a want. You need to have these summers here with him and everyone else, to fall asleep in his arms and wake up sweat drenched on opposite ends of the bed. Need to have him by your side no matter what, in your corner. Jake. Your Jake, as he's always been and always will be. What you want though, is to lean in, to kiss him. To feel his thick bottom lip pulled between yours, to feel the soft flesh between your teeth, his tongue in your mouth and yours in his. 

And as if he's read your thoughts, heard them, something changes in his face, hardens for a beat as he clears his throat and lets go of you, backs away until he hits the counter. “Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing at his hip and looking everywhere but at you. “Did you—uh, you wanna finish up by yourself?”

A salt-coated thorn pokes its way into your chest, jabbing the him-shaped wound in your heart. This chronic ache, your chronic affection, souring before your very eyes and making it easy to foster irritation towards Jake. Genuine irritation for the accent he won't let go of, and the stupid phase he had where he only let you feed him if you moved the utensil like an aeroplane. For his stupid brown hair that always dries perfectly even though he doesn't do anything with it. His eyes, his big, round eyes, and the way they get all sparkly when he's talking about something he cares about or to someone he loves. When he's talking to you.

“Not really,” you admit, though he is clearly desperate to be away from you and you from him. 

A new desire for both of you. Surely. If it weren't for the knots in your stomach, you might be fascinated by it. That you've known Jake this long and are still discovering new sides to him. Prickly ones. You'd been so sure you knew him, all of him, so sure that you liked all of him. Loved.

This though — the crease of his brows, the set of his jaw, the distance — whatever it means, is quite bad. Feels quite bad. Yet, when you open your mouth to continue, it's to say, “I don't want to go downstairs on my own.”

As if nothing happened, as if he hadn't been repulsed by your closeness, he nods and sits up on the countertop with a smile. The pointy corners of his curved lips, and the crinkle of his nose and eyes, are enough to quell your irritation. More than. It's like seeing daylight, like the sun coming up on a winter morning to melt the snow. That's just how friendships are though, isn't it? How it is to have friends and to be a friend. Minor offences resolved instantly, forgiven, over nothing more than a look or a smile. Friendships are neat in that way—friendships like yours, bloated by the stench of your unrequited feelings, however? Not quite so neat. Too much has changed here already, more than what you can afford, and it's all you can do to keep things exactly as they are. 

While you continue getting ready — washing your face, moisturising your legs — the two of you jump from one topic to the next and he is gracious enough not to mention your tears, or how he leapt away from you. “Has this been your best birthday yet?” Jake asks, leaning back on his palms. 

“You know what, I actually think, yeah. One regret though…“ You trail off, turning your head to spray deodorant. 

“Is it that we didn't order more toasted ravioli to bring home and eat later?”

“How'd you know?” 

Jake is smiling when you look over at him, patting his toned stomach and sighing. “Because I'm lowkey hungry again.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, predicting that your own hunger won't take long to follow.

“Fuck is right,” he agrees solemnly, pressing his lips into a flat line. 

Now that your armpits are sufficiently deodorised, you only have to get dressed and put on lip gloss. The lip gloss part is easy, of course, but you've been warring over two coverups in your head since you started packing, so you need a second opinion. Bringing your options from your suitcase, you hold them up side by side for Jake to see. “Which one's cuter?” 

He purses his lips, eyes flicking from left to right. “Both of them are cute.”

“Can you not annoy me right now, please?” You sigh, resting your hands on your hips while he watches, an amused slant to his lips. “Don't be such a boy about it, Jake, pick one.”

“Try them on and let me see, darling.”

Leaving him in the bathroom to get changed by yourself, you take off your T-shirt behind the closed door and ignore how much you liked the sound of his voice when he said that. Liked the way it felt to be told what to do. You tie up your pink bikini, pull a black crochet minidress over the top of it and adjust the low-cut back in the mirror before showing him. Instead of saying anything, reacting at all really, he just sits there, his wide eyes trailing over your body. 

Still, though, in the face of Jake's silence, there's no stopping the burn in your cheeks or the flutter in your stomach. “This is—uhm… you're supposed to tell me how I look.”

“Yeah, no, for sure, yeah,” he says, snapping into motion and clearing his throat. “Will you twirl for me?”

Again, you do as Jake requests, twirling as slow as possible while willing the twitching corners of your lips to stay put. Neutral. Relaxed. You know you look good, of course you do, you wouldn't have brought this dress if it didn't look good on you, if the low back didn't make your waist look smaller and your butt look bigger. Something about him though, about how he looked at you, like he thinks it too, thinks you look good is more than enough to take your breath away, so that you have to focus on breathing to do it effectively. 

He's leaning forward with his arms crossed over his lap, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes flick upward to meet yours, but he can't hold your gaze, looking up at the ceiling instead. “You look… Yeah, Yongie, nice.”

“Thank you for the glowing review,” you mutter, turning to leave, as if your heart isn't racing.

The next time you join him in the bathroom, you're wearing the white dress, and before he asks you to, you twirl for him, as slowly as you did earlier. This dress is just as short as the first, more sheer though, and the low cut is in the front instead, showing off the centre of your bikini top, your cleavage mainly. Now that you're wearing it, you might like it a bit better, preferring how your necklaces sit against your skin. 

Jake's face and ears are beet red, his mouth ajar but nothing comes out. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, suddenly unsure about the pink bikini you'd bought specifically to wear tonight, and fidget with the neckline, covering your chest as much as you can. “I'd change though, if I wore this,” you say, smoothing it over your hips. “Like white bikini instead, I think it'd look better at the front.”

His eyes fall to your chest, to the locket, and then lower, stuck on the pink fabric, on your boobs. He gulps but he can't look away, doesn't even try. “I think you should wear that one, wear it exactly like that, with the pink.”

“Yeah?”

Jake nods, clears his throat. “You really are a dream, YN. I meant it when I said it.”

Neither of you says anything about that, or the way his hands shake while he takes pictures of you and adjusts your poses. It's basically forgotten about by the time he leads the way to the party, humming along to Minjeong's playlist and holding onto your hand. Despite this, your coming downstairs together, you lose him to the crowd quite quickly. The first hour of your night is mostly just hugging people and accepting snacks from paper plates while having the same conversation five hundred times—how have you been? Great! What are you up to these days? Not much. Having a good birthday? The best! Your necklace is so pretty! Thank you, it's from Jake. Aw, you two are so cute! Haha… yeah. 

You pose for pictures and receive tall, sparkly gift bags of wine or vodka that you leave on the kitchen counter and garden table so everyone can help themselves. With Nishimura Riki, you have two Jimin-issued shots, bringing your total up to eight out of twenty-two. To Huh Yunjin, you put in a good word for Jay, talking him up like he's the second coming of Christ or the best thing since Compeed blister patches—like he's Jake, basically. And it's over Yang Jungwon's broad shoulder that you finally reenter the garden for good, while you kick and scream, begging not to be flung into the pool while he laughs maniacally. 

“I thought you liked swimming!” he calls out, as if you are ten metres away, while approaching the water. 

Trying to reason with Jungwon is like trying to reason with a crazy person—you are mostly certain Jungwon is a crazy person. It's for that reason that you screw your eyes shut and brace yourself, though the touch of the water never comes. Instead, it's warm linen on your skin when he drops you. It's Jake at your side on the garden couch when you open your eyes. 

He's laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard. “You should've seen your face,” he says through his cackles. “Fuck, Yongie. That was great.”

All you can do is close your eyes and enjoy the sun, enjoy the sounds of your friends enjoying themselves and the music and the chatter, the splashing in the water. The heat of his skin through your dress, the weight of his arm around your shoulders. Literally anything other than Jake's annoying laugh. It's only when he stops that you open your eyes again and he's staring with his lips parted, his eyebrows pulled together just a little. Your smile is involuntary, immediate, and he looks away as fast as he can, ears burning red. 

Jake doesn't look at you until he's cleared his throat. “Food time,” he says, and lifts the most brilliant plate you've ever seen from the other side of him. It's heaped like a buffet plate with all your favourites. Gimbap, pizza, fried chicken, and chips with cheese on top. 

You lick your lips despite yourself. “That looks so good,” you groan, far too lazy to get up for your own. 

“It's yours.” 

“Really?” 

Smiling Jake nods his head and you kiss him on the cheek, mumbling, thank you, into his skin before turning your attention to the plate. You take a bite of everything before starting on the chips. Melted cheddar nearly burns the roof of your mouth, but still, undeterred, you chew on, having worked up quite the appetite with all of your socialising. At your side, Jake twirls the end of your ponytail around his finger and explains the inner workings of the Doki Doki Literature Club roleplay Discord server that Jaehyun and Yunjin crossed paths on. 

“It was also like seven years ago,” he points out. “I can't even tell you what I was doing online at age fourteen.”

“Oh, you were looking up how to kiss on my laptop and actually fainting when my mum brought it up at dinner,” you supply since he asked, laughing despite yourself because even after all these years, the image of him crying at the table then passing out still cracks you up. 

Jake, however, not so much. You're the only one who finds it funny, this secret you've decided to die with, this secret he continues to deny. A disbelieving scoff comes from him, eyebrows touching his hairline. “I'm telling you, YN, that was not me.”

“Yeah and it wasn't me either, so who does that leave?”

“I don't know, Yongie, it must've been a ghost or something.” Jake shrugs, affronted, like always, by your longstanding, well-founded accusation. He was the only other person who knew that your password was JaeyunFan1511, because he was the one who set it to that. “Do you believe in those?” 

“Sure.” 

“Anyway…“ And he continues, ignoring your laughter. As the story goes, Jaehyun and Yunjin had been in a locked roleplay channel with a couple of others before exchanging social media and learning they lived relatively close to each other. Their friendship fizzled out after a few months, but when they bumped into each other at a uni party last summer, they hit it off and got together. “But he was still in the server, and he had an RP girlfriend! He had two! And neither of them were Yunjin.”

Setting your slice of pizza down, you look over at him, parsing his face for any indication that he's taking the piss. “Are you, like, trying to be funny?” 

“I wish, Yongie.” Jake shakes his head. “That's everything I know, I haven't talked to him since he told me.”

You sigh, leaning further into him. “Onto better things at least, for her, now that the coast is clear for Jay.”

“Mm, I'll have to wingman that tonight.”

“I already started.” 

Jake's lips curl upwards. “Are you having fun though, darling? I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job of letting you keep all your thunder, right?” 

With a mouth full of gimbap you nod your head, chewing a little more before mumbling, “Yes to both.” 

He chuckles when he looks at you, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb, which is obviously fine and doesn't set off a flutter in your stomach or a hot flush in your cheeks. He smells faintly of sunscreen and chlorine, water dripping sporadically from his pool-darkened hair. It's cold when it hits your thigh, a nice contrast to the heat by your knee, where your sweaty bare skin touches his. 

As if she'd been watching you this whole time, just waiting for you to finish eating, Minjeong snatches you from the couch as soon as you're done and drags you over to the big long table where she covers your eyes with her hands. There's a lot of shuffling and mumbling before the entire garden erupts into a disjointed chorus of Happy Birthday, and when Minjeong uncovers your eyes, Jake is holding your cake in front of you, chest and neck glowing orange from the lit candles. He's the only thing you can see. The only thing that matters. 

“Make a wish, Yongie,” he says, and his voice is so gentle there's a sting behind your eyes as you screw them shut. 

Making the same wish as this morning, and all of your birthdays since your tenth, you blow out the candles and wish for Jake. 

After the cake and all the pictures, the energy doesn't seem to deplete. If anything, the music gets louder, your friends getting rowdier. About an hour later, in the bathroom upstairs, you take a minute to yourself, recharging before stepping carefully over and around the people talking and making out on the staircase. You're halfway down when the front door swings open and Sunoo walks in. 

Caution to the wind, you sprint towards him and into his arms, giggling when he lifts you up off your feet. “Hola, señor, welcome back,” you mumble into his collarbone. Pulling away, you take a beat just to look at him. It's only been a month since you all visited him in Barcelona for his birthday, but it feels like an age has passed by without the sweet smiling scrunch of his nose and eyes. Without the lemon tang of his cologne or the warm sound of his laugh. The group is complete at long last, your birthday really beginning now at half eleven at night. 

His eyes are big and wet when he opens them. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says, sounding just as moved as you. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna miss it.”

You lug Sunoo's suitcase up to the room he and Heeseung always share and help him unpack. “I wanna hear everything,” you squeal, plugging his charger into the socket by his bed. 

“No way, tonight's all about you! And I can't believe you didn't tell me Jake finally gave you that necklace.” He reaches out to look at it, brushing over the baby dragon with his thumb. “It's even better than the pictures.”

You roll your eyes but can't stop the smile on your lips. “Jeez, not you too. It only happened last night.”

Sunoo pulls two bottles of Spanish wine from his suitcase and sets them down on the dresser next to Heeseung's aftershave. “Look, I'm just glad it happened at all. Now it's your problem instead of ours.” 

“What’s my problem?”

“Jake’s whole I'm in love with Yongie thing,” he says, delighted by his own bad Australian accent. “I mean, it was sweet, obviously, but it gets to a point, you know. Did you freak when he showed up yesterday?”

It does not feel as good as you thought it might to hear that. It actually does not feel good at all. So much so that if it weren't so surprising, you'd have glossed over it, pivoted to something else. Asked how to say, excuse me, Sunoo, what the fuck? in Spanish or something. But it is, to you, extremely surprising, so you say, “Jake's what?”

And Sunoo's eyebrows pinch together, his head tilting. “He’s been saying he was gonna confess with that necklace for as long as I've known him. Is that not what happened last night?” Now that you're looking at him, really looking at him, you see that his hair is shorter than it was last month, by quite a lot actually, so it doesn't flop over like it would normally. Weird. 

Weird that you didn't notice, not that he cut it, it looks good. Suits him. “I like your haircut.”

“Thank you?”

“I have to go.”

Sunoo bursts out laughing, bewildered. “If you say so. Talk later, Mrs. Sim!” 

In the safety of your bedroom, alone with your swirling thoughts, you pace back and forth, stepping around your open suitcase and the mess of clothes within instead of moving it to the side. It might be nice to organise though, to complete a task you have full control over. Logically, you know you don't have time to do it, but physically, before you can help it, you're kneeling on the hardwood floor emptying out your bag to repack. You fold up your underwear, rolling it neatly to fit in the zipper compartment with your socks. Swimming costumes are next, bikinis and one-pieces separated. Then it's tops, skirts, shorts, and dresses. And lastly, the black coverup from earlier. 

It doesn't take as long as you thought it would, tidying up, nor do you feel any better, so you unpack again and do it twice more. Zipping up your now colour-coordinated suitcase, you wheel it into the corner of the room where Jake's is, so it doesn't get in your way. This time when you pace, you clutch your locket. Jake's locket, technically, if the years he spent holding onto it mean more than the night and day you've had it. Quicker and quicker, you pace the room, but your thoughts won't break, you can't get through to them, not properly. 

Jake, AKA Mr. Change Isn’t All Bad, wavering in the face of his own ideology while expecting you to take it on board, to trust him. Is he a hypocrite for keeping this secret? Are you? Obviously he was going to tell you at some point, to confess, the locket is proof of that. Proof that a day would eventually arrive when all of this would come from Jake. A day he imagined could have been on this trip. This week. Between yesterday and Wednesday. Any day since he got the locket.

If change is good, if it can be good, why did he keep this from you? 

At the sound of the door opening, you halt in your tracks, startled to find Jake standing in the arch behind you when you turn around. “Good evening, milady. Hath the night treateth thee well?” he asks, stepping into the room and greeting you with a deep formal bow. Light from the dock sweeps in through the window, showing off the grin on his face.

You can't bring yourself to share in his amusement, and you know it's bad when the clear sound of his giggles doesn't summon the same giddy butterflies it normally does. For once, his smile does nothing to move you, to settle your nerves. If anything, his smile scares you, makes you feel worse. That he could be so happy with the way things are, so unwilling to change, even for the better, makes you feel a bit sick. It hurts your throat to swallow, to say the words, we need to talk, when you blurt them out.

In the light once more, his smile falls and his eyebrows rise. “Sure,” he says. “Can I pee first?” 

“No.”

“Okay, so I wasn't actually asking, YN. Obviously I'm gonna pee if I need to.”

“I'm coming with you.”

Jake lets out an amused breath. “Come on then.” With each step he takes towards the bathroom, the floorboards creak under foot—they do the same when you follow.

Against the locked door, you play with the hem of your dress, folding it up and up and up until your stomach is out before letting it go, the stretched cotton unravelling to graze your thighs again, before repeating the action. Your thoughts are scrambled, zipping by too quickly for you to get a proper hold on any of them, at least for long enough to figure it out. His feelings and yours, deep enough to discuss and share with others, to wish and complain, say, finally, in the face of the smallest hints of reciprocation, yet kept from each other and for all this time, behind closed mouths that begged to be fed. Closed mouths that still beg. You and Jake, and Jake and you, watching and waiting for divine intervention, some act of God or His blessed hand, of Sunoo as it turned out. 

The toilet seat hits the lid and the rustle of fabric follows—his swimming trunks. You can't stop your wanting gaze quick enough, looking from your thighs to glimpse the untanned skin of his hips, his thighs and his small ass for longer than necessary, feeling your heart rate quicken before you screw your eyes shut and his pee hits the toilet water. 

There's nothing weird about this. Mostly. You've peed in front of all of your friends. It's just that now that you're here, with him, this doesn't really feel like the right time to say everything you need to say, to get everything that's been weighing you down all these years off your chest. This definitely could have waited, at least for a moment where he wasn't standing with his soft dick in his hands. You're good at waiting after all, it's par for the course in your situation, though Jake hasn't quite taken to patience yet. 

“Yongie?” he says, for what you're realising is the second time. 

The toilet flushes. 

“Huh?”

“What's the matter?” Jake asks. He's at the sink when you open your eyes, spots along the edges of your vision, along the edges of him. It takes a second for him to come into focus, his face flushed more than earlier with a worried look cast across it. Thick eyebrows drawn together, squinting eyes searching face. “You look terrified.”

You can only laugh then, pressing yourself against the door, because that's exactly how you feel too. Turning stomach and racing heart. Palms slick with sweat. Under Jake's gaze, you wipe your hands on your dress and give a smile that feels about right. “No, not at all—” You clear your throat, shaking your head. “—Sunoo's here.”

His face breaks out into a grin as he turns to the mirror, soap suds forming on his skin. “Fuck,” he says. “Finally!”

“Yeah, no, exactly. It's just that he said something really weird about you.”

And even weirder than Sunoo's words, is Jake's reaction. How his smile falls, and his body goes completely still for the fastest second—you'd have missed it if you blinked. “What'd he say?” he asks, clearing his throat afterwards then clearing it again. 

“It was about us, I guess. That you… He said that you love me, Jaeyun.”

“Ah.” He lets out a breath, shoulders falling, seeming relieved. “Obviously I love you. And I love Layla, and Minjeong, and Jay, and everyone else.” 

“Mm, obviously. Uh, the way he said it though, how he put it, it was like you might love me the way I love you.”

His eyebrows raise for a split second. “Oh, yeah? And what way is that?”

“More than I should,” you admit quietly and as scared as you are, it feels nice to say it. To get it off your chest. 

If Jake heard you, or registered what you said, cared even, he gives no indication, only turning off the tap and shaking his wet hands over the sink. It would hurt less if he'd thrown up or said, ew, or, yuck, out loud. If he'd laughed. Anything but silence, anything but the way he approaches you only to dry his hands on the plush white towel by the door. It is unbearable to stand here in this, the aftermath, with Jake watching you from hardly an arm's length away. Still, you can't bring yourself to leave, hostage to your feelings and his reaction — or lack thereof — to them. You know now, just how much you love him, because the only thing you want to do is hide your face in his chest, to feel the beat of his heart against your cheek.

When he finally speaks, it's to say, “More than you should?”

You can only nod. 

“Would that be okay with you, Yongie?” Jake asks, and the softness of his voice betrays his worry, the depth of his concern. He tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand trembling against your skin. A spark at the contact. “If I loved you like that, I mean? More than I should?”

“Yeah.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, but he doesn't give in. Doesn't take his hand from your cheek or take his eyes off yours. “Are you sure? Because you look pretty upset about it.”

“It just, it scares me a bit,” you tell him, and it's the understatement of the century. If his eyes fell even slightly, he'd see your heart beating out of your chest, begging to be held in his hands, to be looked after by him, like always. 

“That's okay.” Jake bites his bottom lip, watching you for a beat longer before taking your hand in his. He brings your palm to his bare chest, pressing it against his warm skin, right over his heart as it races away just like yours. “See, Yongie? It scares me too, a lot.”

He's trying, trying hard, laying himself bare, his literal heart in the palm of your hand, but it is not a comfort. For as long as you've known him, he's only had two real fears, needles and roller coasters, the only two things on earth he can't be pressured into. Otherwise, he spends a lot of time tempering your fears, weathering your storms for you — at least in the moment — dismantling them in a matter of sentences, but this, his honesty, Jake at his most vulnerable, is only scaring you even more. 

You're being unfair. You know you're being unfair. Jake is gentle and accommodating and patient, and if you, for all of your flaws, are allowed to be scared, then so is he. You gulp and gulp again, trying to talk yourself down the way he usually does. And if anything, him opening up to you like this, showing this to you, can only be a good thing. He trusts you, he still trusts you, so things haven't changed that much. 

Not yet. 

“I know it's not what you want to hear, and I can't promise it'd be perfect or even easy, but I can promise that I'm always going to love you,” he admits, his voice so gentle and so sure. “I always have, YN.”

Like they tend to do, his words sink into you, that sweet look in his brown eyes taking over until you feel it too. Feel his certainty as if it's your own, his earnestness. The great rise and fall of his chest as he breathes intentionally, holding a deep inhale before releasing it. Over and over until his heart steadies itself, slowly but surely—the more you watch, the more you feel your heart doing the same thing. Feel the fear subsiding, feel butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach, feel a smile breaking free.

“Always?” you ask as excitement takes its first breaths within you.

Finally, he caves too, letting a smile curve over his pink lips, a breathy laugh coming out as he nods his head. “I think so, but I only realised when you gave up on our pact,” he says. “I thought I was crazy, slicing my finger open like that just because you asked. And even while I was bleeding out, halfway to death, I wasn't mad you bailed on me, I was just happy to be with you.”

It's hard not to laugh hearing that, at the memory. After he'd done it, he lifted his hand to show you the tiny dot of red on the tip of his middle finger where he'd pricked himself with a safety pin, and flashed you a nervous smile, braces peeking out between his lips. The sight of it, of him, your wounded Jaeyunie, moved you to tears. Great full-bodied sobs that definitely would have alarmed his parents had they been home, or his older brother if he wasn't too busy yelling at his TV screen over a game of FIFA Street. You were beside yourself, apologising profusely because you just couldn't do it, not only would it hurt, but it was extremely unhygienic and do you know how many blood-borne diseases there are out there, Jaeyun?

And just like he said, he didn't get mad or even upset, he simply bandaged his finger and took you into his arms, stroking your hair until you calmed down.

“I think I was too busy trying to hide how I felt to notice that you felt the same,” you admit, in awe of the fact that while your heart had been secretly beating in his direction, his was doing the same in yours. In awe of the fact that right now, you can feel his heart racing again.

“Been a while since then though,” Jake points out, only continuing when you agree. “So I guess things won't change too much between us, right? Since we've loved each other this long, it'll be the same, don't you think?” 

Sometimes it feels as if he holds the key to more than just your heart, but to the anxious muddle of your brain as well, so that he always knows what to say to nip your fears in their buds. And has the patience to do it all over again, reassuring you as best he can when they rear their ugly heads once more. 

“Actually, I think there's one thing we could change,” he adds.

Tilting your head, you're pleased to find that the idea of something changing sparks curiosity rather than dread. “What is it?”

“We could, like…“ Jake has to stop to giggle, covering his mouth with his hand as he tries to calm down. “Like, kiss, you know?”

“I'd like that, but I think we could do a lot more than just kiss,” you suggest, and it's all it takes for him to cut the laughter. 

Effective immediately—every last trace of amusement gone like it was never there in the first place, simply imagined. Replaced by his teeth biting down on his bottom lip and turning the pink white under the pressure. There's something there, to the look on his face, like his gears are turning slower and slower, overheated and lust-laden as yours at the sight of him. Jake's eyes trail every inch of your body, catching on your curves through your sheer cover-up, bright pink bikini beaming through white cotton. His palms scorch your waist when he takes hold of you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Like what, gorgeous? Had some ideas myself, but I wanna compare notes with you.”

Butterflies, heat and awful, awful thoughts descend on you like a sudden shower. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, his teeth in your neck, grazing and biting, his pretty face all screwed up before his jaw falls slack; whimpers and whines and grunts and moans; his thrusts getting quicker, sloppy, until he comes, without a condom obviously. The ease with which you can conjure the thoughts, the clarity of the image and its familiarity is humiliating, that they've occurred to you on many a night spent with your hand between your thighs. 

For fear of him seeing your thoughts written all over your face, you bury it in his chest and screw your eyes shut. “Don't be so untoward,” you mumble into his skin, liking the faint nip of salt on your lips when you lick them.

“You were untoward first,” he points out and you can hear his smile in his voice. “You're so hot, Yongie, don't be shy.”

When you muster up the courage to look at him, the pretty red kiss of alcohol and sunburn on his cheeks makes you smile, lips quirking into a giddy, horny curve. In his eyes though, where there had been heat, deep desire, there's only softness. A gaze that is so startling in its tenderness, in its pure love, that it makes your breath hitch in your throat before you ask, “What is it?”

“You love me,” he says reverently, as if he's informing you or he's only processed it now, taken it in.

“And you love me.”

Jake smiles, giving you a firm nod. “Yes, ma'am,” he says, leaning in to finally — finally — close the gap between your mouth and his. 

Your mind blanks completely at the feel of it, of his plump lips on yours. A gentle brush at first, like he's testing the waters, like he doesn't know you're utterly gone for him. He licks slowly along the seam of your lips before you open up to him, and then, suddenly, it's everything. It's the taste of the beers he's had to drink tonight, the slip of his tongue over yours, of his damp hair through your fingers. A decade's worth of want, for him, for this, unfolding and collapsing in and around you.

There's no telling where your mouth ends and his begins, no discernment between bumping teeth and smiling lips, nor the shallow breaths exchanged from one to other. Your bodies are as close as they could possibly be, your Jake warm and solid and so in love against you, no room for anything to get between you. Not even his dick that presses thick and hard into you, long, more so than you'd ever realised.

At the first roll of your hips against his, Jake's grip on your waist tightens, a needy groan rumbling through his chest and into yours as he grinds back even harder. A lick of heat sets your body alight, taking over, so that before you even register it, you're pushing his hands lower, down over the curve of your ass. Moaning at the feeling of his greedy palms slipping under your dress, under your bikini bottoms to grab at your bare skin, to squeeze, to smack. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, the word hot against your mouth. “You're perfect, you know that?”

From your lips to his, a breathy laugh passes, an endless flutter going off in your stomach.

“I'm serious, YN.”

“Good.”

Jake smiles, that boyish grin that's never really changed, that's always had the same effect, always makes you smile too. But it doesn't stick around for long, as his focus seems to shift instead towards rocking his hips with yours. The pace he sets, enforces, is maddening, slow enough for you to feel every last inch of him on you, and with dizzying clarity, how he throbs and twitches. Yet, you miss him for the split second he pulls back before he's on you again. You're not sure you'll ever have enough, no matter how much he gives you, you probably won't be fully satisfied until you can peel his skin off and wear it over yours. For now though, you won't pretend there isn't a pool in your bikini, hot and sticky desire gathering between your legs. He presses wet kisses to your cheek, trailing down your neck and latching onto the sensitive spot that makes you weak in the knees, a shiver rolling down your spine as he holds you tighter. 

On an exhale, you cry out his name, head against the door, nails sinking into his biceps. With his head on your shoulder, he lets out a jagged breath, his hips stuttering to a halt. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You did not,” you mumble, amazed by him, by the new heat coming from his swimming trunks and how you somehow want him even more. 

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, never mind speak, but finally, he says, “I did, Yongie. I promise I'm not usually so fast.” He almost sounds distraught, humming when you stroke his hair, scratching at his scalp with your fingernails.

“My sweet baby.” You can't stop yourself from smiling, from asking to see. 

“I'm soft and I know it looks disgusting in there. Need a shower, YN.”

“I don't mind.”

He chuckles, lifting his head to peck your lips. “Go ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

It's probably only because he's Jake, and you love him, that the sight doesn't repulse you when you pull back his waistband and take a look inside. Strings of cum connect the fabric to his soft penis and dark pubic hair. He groans at it, turning his head, but you can't look away. “Can I taste it?”

“Sure, Yongie, do what you want.”

What you want is to suck him off, so while Jake covers his eyes with his hands, you get down on your knees and take his dick into your mouth. It's warm and bland mostly, save for the slight salty tang hitting your tongue.

“YN,” he whispers. “What are you—shit.” 

You pull off, stroking him with your hand and liking the heat of it as his tip starts to flush, the soft pink turning richer, redder. “I've never tasted it before, and you said I could,” you explain simply, eager to continue, to sate the pulse between your thighs. 

“Yeah, but I…” Jake blinks hard before looking down at you. He's very handsome like this, with the sheen of sweat on his skin, shining under the bathroom lights. The thick length of his neck is flushed too, his ears. Your heart stutters against your ribs, your cheeks heating up as he bites down on his bottom lip and sighs. “You wanna suck me off, darling?”

Instead of answering with a simple, yes, you answer with a kiss to his tip, tonguing tonguing his slit while working your hands over the rest of him. It might be pretty if it weren't so big. 

“Always so gorgeous, aren't you? Doesn't matter what you're doing,” he mumbles, pushing your hair away from your face with a soft smile. “It's yours, baby, take it all, yeah? Know you can.”

Desperate to please him, to have him in every single way, you open your mouth as wide as you can to take him in, relishing the weight of him, fully hard, on your tongue, the sting of your stretched lips at the corners. It's all you want, all that matters, to keep hearing those sweet little sounds, soft murmurs of your name along with praise. To see the look on his face, disbelief written all over it. Clear in the knit of his brows, his eyes wide for as long as he can keep them open, his swollen lips stuck ajar. It's getting to you, how much he seems to like it, like that you're the one doing it, so much that you can't help but press your thighs together as you bob your head, chasing friction, pressure. 

His hips stutter whenever your tongue flicks at the underside of his head, making him grunt. “Just like that, YN, fuck. You know exactly what I like,” he tells you, fingers getting lost in your hair, guiding you back and forth along the length of him, rougher than he seems to realise. “Think this pretty little mouth was made just for me.” Whether Jake means it or it's just horny rambling, it makes your heart race anyway, because you think the same, think it so deeply, so entirely, you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

And when he comes for the second time it's with his tip at the back of your throat and your name on the tip of his tongue. Muttered curses spill out of him as you keep sucking anyway, paying no mind to the hot drops of his release slipping onto your chest and thighs. All the while, you tongue at his slit so he whines, whimpers, and throws his head back, until he can't take it any longer, pulling out. Falling to his knees. You can't resist him, wiping his cum from your skin and sucking your fingers clean. Sucking on his thumb when he strokes your cheek. Leaning in and taking his bottom lip between yours to suck on that too. 

“So good, baby,” he mumbles, breathless. “Way too good.” 

The heat in your stomach doesn't subside, if anything, it spreads. Especially with the way he looks down at you, his eyes boring into yours, warm pools of deep brown and all the love in the world. “I love you, Jake“ you say, and it feels like the first time. Fresh and exciting and giggle inducing. It is the first time, technically, saying it in this way, for him to hear and understand exactly how you mean it. “I really love you so much.” 

“I love you so much too,” Jake says, and it's so much better to hear it from him. He pecks your lips, smiling when you lick into his mouth. “And I'm sorry about earlier, didn't mean to push you like that, yeah?”

A chance for both of you to catch your breath, to calm down, only comes when he gets into the shower. You brush your teeth, liking the dull ache in your jaw and the raw feeling in your throat, skin glowy and radiant after you wash your face. On cloud nine, you sit on the end of the bed to wait for Jake, but you can't sit still. Leg bouncing frantically while you drum your hands against your bare thighs. Restless, you get up and once again, pace the length of the room, this time with a grin you can't control playing on your lips. This surplus energy comes in handy though, because when Jake joins you in the bedroom, he wastes no time getting his head between your thighs and evening the score. 

Now that you and Jake have kissed once, a few times — a hundred — it’s impossible to stop. And each time is better than the last. First thing in the morning, you share giddy kisses in bed. And again right after brushing your teeth. Alone in the kitchen, you kiss against the countertop. And again by the pool after he swims four laps to impress you. 

His arms flex to show his muscles as he lifts himself out of the water, droplets running down his skin, racing through the dip in his chest, his abs. He’s already starting to tan, a clean line around his hips where the golden skin turns lighter under his shorts. Just the sight of it, the memory of it and everything else you saw last night, heats your skin, tugs your lips up at the corners. Jake straightens his waistband before extending a huge hand to help you up from the concrete, pulling you into him and pressing his lips to yours again and again. He giggles into your mouth, palms holding your hips to his. It’s hard to kiss like this, with both of you grinning against each other’s lips, but you don’t stop trying. 

“I. Love. You,” he says between pecks. “So. So. Much.”

You will never tire of hearing him say that, even though it’s the other thing you can’t stop doing now that you’ve done it once. It comes out at every opportunity, for Jake at least, you’ve been having fun teasing him, verbally opposing the flush in your cheeks and the grin on your face. “I. Know. You. Do.”

Unimpressed, he pulls away to look down at you, and seeming to notice your squinting eyes, he turns you around so the sun heats your back and his chest instead of your face. Now that you can see him properly, you can see that his smiling lips are covered in lip gloss. Most of his face is covered in it, shiny pink on his chin and cheeks, the tip of his nose. “Say it back,” he mumbles into your palm while you clean him up, though it’s no use, because you press your lips right back to his. 

“It. Back.” 

“Not. Funny.” 

You pull away, playing with the wet hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the longer tufts of it around your fingers. “Why are we laughing then?” you ask, struggling to stop.

Jake’s eyes and nose are scrunched, happy creases all over his face. “Because it’s funny watching you play hard to get after last night,” he whispers, and the uneven slant of his lips undoes you. “You’re a very bad actor, Yongie.”

Unfortunately, he’s got you there. It was like he’d hypnotised you, cast a spell so that the only things you could say were his name, and I love you. Every single time he touched you made it worse, each stroke of his tongue or brush of his fingers had you reeling, his name hardly more than a desperate cry or a sob—never mind the sight of him kneeling between your legs breathing heavily, his lips and chin covered in you. 

Completely defenceless, shameless maybe, you pull the only card you can. “Yeah, well, you’re hard.”

“Your. Fault.” He pushes your hips back so you can’t feel him pressed against you. “Love. You. Too. Much.”

The smile that curves your lips is reflexive, a knee-jerk reaction just like the butterflies in your stomach. “I. Love. You. More.” Flustered and giddy and giggling, you run away from him and all the way up to Minjeong’s room, flinging the door open. 

She’s laying on her beautiful four-poster bed, scribbling into her diary, but she abandons it at the sight of you. “Holy shit!” she says, covering her mouth. “You had sex last night.” 

You let the door swing shut behind you, biting your lip to stifle a smile. “I wish.”

“Those words don’t match your afterglow.”

“It’s thirty degrees, MJ. I’m sweating.” You roll your eyes, climbing into the bed next to her. “And there’s no such thing as an afterglow when you kiss someone—we would’ve heard about that by now. Although he did finish in his shorts, so I guess we did hook up.”

Minjeong’s eyes are like saucers. “Jake what? Just from kissing?”

“Kissing?” Yizhuo asks from the doorway. “You kissed Jake?” 

“They’ve been kissing all morning, I could see them from my window,” Aeri supplies, slipping past Yizhuo and into the room. It’s just like yesterday in the kitchen, except the telephone is working perfectly. “It was gross, in a cute way, I guess.”

“And he came in his shorts!” Minjeong squeals, kicking her feet.

This development, revelation, has Aeri and Yizhuo’s jaws on the floor, gasping as they rush over to the bed and leap onto the duvet in front of you. Having had your first and last sexual experiences during the summer before university, you’ve never had a story to share during debriefs, always in the listener’s shoes eager to hear more. 

Spurred on by the thrill of evoking this reaction, you can’t help but say, “Then he came in my mouth!”

Clearly as delighted as you, the girls break out into giggles and applause, nudging each other and hugging you, smiling from ear to ear. Your heart is racing in your chest, the smile on your face aching your cheeks, as they set off in a chorus of oh my gods and finallys. Maybe in the grand scheme of things — at least in your group — a blowjob was hardly anything to write home about, hardly anything to warrant more than a hum or a nod or a what else, but your having given one, and having given one to Jake, made the very admission seem like some kind of generational disclosure, some unique foray into sexual exploration. Made you something of a pioneer, an innovator even. 

Like air from a popped balloon, the story launches out of you, from picking your coverup and eating on the couch, to Sunoo’s slip-up and watching Jake pee, absolutely no detail is spared. Especially not when it comes to the feeling of Jake’s head between your legs. The whole time, your cheeks burn furiously and all of your words come out a mile a minute so you have to take a deep breath at the end, the girls watching you with varying levels of shock painted on their faces. 

It’s Minjeong who speaks first, tilting her head. “So he’s just as pathetic as he looks? That’s really hot, like, I’m sorry but he’s extremely hot.”

“Right?” Aeri nods. 

“I wouldn’t have thought to use that word…” You trail off. In theory, it seems a harsh thing to say, pathetic, but the more you think about it, the more objectively true it becomes. His little moans and whimpers, how easily he got hard in his shorts, how easily he finished. Pathetic. Maybe he is a little, but you like it, love it, feel a shiver down your spine at the thought. “It was sweet in the moment, how I said his name and he just fell apart, but yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head. Her cheeks and neck are flushed red. “I’ve never looked at him like that, but… I understand you so much better now, YN. You guys are freaky as fuck, I have to respect it. And I’m a thousand percent sure Sunoo did that on purpose.”

You hadn’t considered that, but it was the exact sort of thing he would do, losing his patience faster than the rest of you and taking matters into his own hands. After all, you and Jake had waited years, and it only took Sunoo a handful of minutes to confess on his behalf. There was no reason to wonder though, it was just as likely he’d gotten the same idea as everyone else had in the kitchen, and sharing your thinking, Aeri says, “I think he just saw the locket and thought the same as we all did.” 

“Uh uh.” Minjeong shakes her head, lifting her phone to show you the screen. It’s her text thread with him.

Minjeong: Jake gave her the necklace and didn’t say anything, he’s so fucking stupid. They’re just gonna be friends forever atp all bc he thinks he’ll scare her off

Sunoo: LMAOOOOO poor guy has rocks for brains BUT not completely doomed he just needs our help

Sunoo: *MY help

“That’s a little mean,” you mumble half-heartedly. “It was me being stupid.”

Yizhuo pinches the bridge of her nose. “If you and Jake kissing means we have to be nice to him all the time, I’m voting against this relationship.”

“Yizh—”

“All in favour of JakeYN breaking up right now, say, aye.”

Right in front of you, all of the girls raise their hands and from the doorway, Jimin gawks at you. “JakeYN doing what?”

“Well, we’re not even really…” You trail off, only realising now that you didn’t exactly put a word on what the two of you are. “Together in the official sense.”

Yizhuo sighs. “Oh, Lord.”

For Jimin’s sake — and yours — you tell the story again from top to bottom, while Aeri, Minjeong, and Yizhuo listen again, just as eager and nosey as the first time, oohing and ahhing at all the same parts. Jimin has a lot more questions than they did though—is he big? Yes, Jimin. Thick? Yes, Jimin. He looks like he’d whimper, does he whimper? Yes, Jimin. 

With everyone caught up to speed, you rush to your room — relieved to find it empty — and bring your suitcase into Minjeong’s so the girls can help you pick out something to wear to the beach. Luckily, it’s perfectly organised, with all of your swimming costumes neatly rolled up next to your underwear so you don’t have to take everything out to find all of them. At the end of the bed, you stand in a row appraising the spread of your swimwear.

“I think you need to wear the world’s tiniest bikini, so these are out,” Jimin says first, taking all of your one pieces and rolling them back up the way you had them packed. Whether or not she receives the mental thanks you extend her way is anyone’s guess. 

“Your ass looks best in this one.” Yizhuo lifts the blue bikini you wore on Saturday night. 

Aeri rebuts with a strappy black bikini in her hand. “Your boobs look better in this one though.”

“No, that’s your Instagram bikini,” Minjeong says, shaking her head. “You can’t do anything if you wear that.”

“I guess I could take pictures for Instagram,” you point out, not really caring which bikini they pick, obviously you like them all or you wouldn’t have brought them. The main reason you’re even letting this decision spiral into such a big thing is that you’re having fun with the girls, having fun feeling fully like you’re part of them, one of them. Mostly, your attachment to Jake is harmless, but it comes at the expense of this sometimes.

With her arms around your waist and her chin on your shoulder, Jimin speaks right into your ear, making you squirm. “Or Jake could take pictures,” she sing-songs, and you can picture the waggle of her eyebrows. “Wear the black one, YN, he’ll like it. And I’ll like it if he doesn’t.”

Heeding her advice, you take the black two piece from Aeri. “He’ll definitely like it, he’s a boob guy for sure.”

“I think he’s a you guy,” Minjeong says, gathering up your swimming costumes and packing them away. “What do you mean for sure?” 

A pang of heat burns your skin, flooding your cheeks. You can’t even look at her — or any of the girls — eyes darting to the pastel pink painted wall on the other side of the room. The white trim and sheer white curtains. Fanning your face, you finally say, “He was all over them basically, like, in bed.”

From Minjeong’s vanity, Aeri scoffs, spinning around in the fluffy desk chair to glare at you. “For a story you told in grave detail, it seems like you missed out a lot of details.” 

“You know what they say.” You shrug, feigning nonchalant like you’re not grinning from ear to ear. “A true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, ladies.”  

“Okay, so you’re obviously not a true gentleman considering you described the exact movement of his tongue on your cl—” You cut Jimin off with your hand over her mouth.

“Jesus,” you mumble. “I was there, alright? I get it.”

As you’d expect for two p.m. in the dead of July, the beach is heaving. Families dot the sand with bright parasols and screaming children, while lines of vendors sell ice cream and hot dogs and chilled water for more than what’s reasonable. In the middle of it all, on a mass of beach towels, you and the girls drink cider and beat the same long-dead, stupid, stupid Jungwoo–shaped horses as always. 

“You could ditch the first two movies and still make sense of the story, Revenge of the Sith is clearly the best.” Aeri huffs, putting her book down to defend her favourite of the prequels. “The Phantom Menace was boring as fuck, you only like it for Padmé’s dresses.” 

Even though you’re not part of the conversation, at this accusation, you have to speak up. “No one’s watching Phantom Menace for the dresses, Aeri. Everyone knows Padmé’s best dress is at the Naboo picnic in Attack of the Clones.” 

“Thank you!” Jimin pats you on the back, pleased that you’ve come to her defence. “I never even said Phantom Menace was the best, I just like it. Obviously Revenge is better, I mean, isn’t Anakin such a big, strong boy in that one?” 

Aeri doesn’t even dignify that with a response, at least not with words anyway. Instead, she puts her head down, face in the towel and lets out a scream louder than your laughter, causing families and couples to look around in terror.

Regardless of the crowd, and oblivious to Aeri’s mounting irritation, the boys do keepy ups in a tight circle with varying degrees of skill. Jake doesn’t drop the ball once, neither does Heeseung. Sunoo does well enough to keep Jake happy. Jay’s very good at kicking the ball, but not so much at the aiming of the ball, which leaves poor Sunghoon sprinting off to the shore before he has a proper chance to play.

It doesn’t take long before Jay gets kicked out and a visibly irritated Jake calls time out. “Yongie,” he yells, waving with both of his arms, lips spreading into a stomach-fluttering grin. “Hey, darling! Sub in?”

You shake your head, pointing over at them. “Jay’s right there!”

Jake actually laughs at that, his head falling back. “We need someone good, Yongie, please?” 

“No, thank you.”

His lips curl downwards, pushing out into a pouty frown, but you remain strong, unswayed no matter how cute he is, no matter how much every last fibre of your body cries out to be near him. You’re already tired from the heat, and — having opted for the picture bikini in the end — not actually dressed to run around the beach anyway. Seeming stumped, Jake stands there with his hands on his hips, watching you, perhaps trying to communicate that he’d really like to be spending time with you at the minute. At least, that’s the message you’re trying to send him, willing him to ditch the game altogether and join you on the blanket, though he does no such thing. 

It’s Sunghoon who calls Aeri over to play instead, and with a grumble, she swaps with Sunoo so the game can continue. They even work up a rally, now that Jay’s been relegated to ball boy, and before long, Yizhuo runs over to join in too. You and Jimin and Sunoo stay safe on the blanket, watching over napping Minjeong and taking turns to wake her up so she can turn over. 

“One more question.” Jimin lifts her head from her book, looking out at the group for a beat before she looks at you. “Was he good?” 

“At what?”

“In bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips before you can help it, destined forever to giggle and blush at the memory by the looks of things. “I’d say so, I don’t have much to compare him to, but…” You trail off, looking over your shoulders before leaning in and whispering the rest. “He made me finish twice.”

“Twice?” Sunoo repeats, eyebrows shooting up.

“With his mouth, yeah.”

“So that’s the kissing he was talking about,” he says with a slow nod.

Jimin nudges him, muttering his name, unimpressed. He nudges her right back, rolling his eyes. “What? He’s the one who said a true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Jeez.” She sighs. “You two really are perfect for each other.”

Fighting your smile is futile, so you don’t bother. You’d have to agree with her, eternally thankful that she sees it too, even if she’s told you in a ridiculous context. Pushing your sunglasses up into your hair, your eyes find Jake right away, latching onto the sight. The flex of his back as he stretches this way and that, muscles accentuated by the slick sheen of sweat. The bob of his glistening Adam’s apple in his throat. The tipping back of his head whenever someone drops the ball, how he groans in frustration. 

“Hoon, you totally had that, are you fucking kidding?” Jake’s red in the face and pinching the bridge of his nose, but Sunghoon only shrugs, laughing as Jay runs off towards the shore to collect the ball. 

This side of him amuses all of you, the loveliest, most patient person any of you know losing his cool over the slighting thing if sports are involved. His hyper-competivity is probably the reason he’s always been so good at football, that he takes it seriously, more meticulous on the pitch than with anything else. 

For you though, Jake in this state, all riled up and irritated, is a guilty pleasure. The clench of his jaw, the way he rakes his hand through his wet hair, how he cuts his eyes at Sunghoon, seeming more annoyed by the way he only laughs harder. These tics, and them existing on Jake, force your heart to race, skipping beat after beat against your ribs to no end. 

“Sunoo,” you say, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Tell Jake if he ever feels like being ungentlemanly, he doesn’t have to hold back.”

His ears burn red and he hums in response, giving you a thumbs-up.

“You’re disgusting, YN.” Jimin gives you a discerning look from top to bottom as if she’s relearning you, reassessing, and, clearly liking what she sees, she grins. “I love it.”  

You can only smile because you love it too, love this side that he brings out of you, this side that you don’t have to keep to yourself anymore, this side that Jake loves as well—Jake who still stands irritated amongst the group. You’re drawn in completely by the pinch of his eyebrows, by the way his frustration melts away as soon as he catches your eye. The crease of his brows smooths over, and his lips curl up when you blow him a kiss.

Apparently deciding he’s had enough of the game, he comes bounding over the way Layla normally does, further committing to the bit by laying down on top of you, his front to your back, like a hot and gangly weighted blanket. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he presses tickly kisses to your skin, pecking a trail up to your cheek where he stops and mumbles, “D’you see me play, Yongie? Was I good?”

“Yes, Jake, very,” you say through a smile that aches your cheeks. 

Instead of thanking you, his response is to roll over so he’s lying on his back and pulling you close. Everywhere he touches, your skin is on fire, soft fingertips hotter than the shining sun against you. Giddy giggles trickle out of you like water from a tap, endless as the ocean, even while he kisses you—a messy liplock that you can hardly focus on for the thudding of your heart in your ears, for the way your friends cheer and applaud behind you.

He pulls away and it’s an affront, though he’s still smiling, the pointy corners of his lips quirked up and beautiful as he looks at you, breathless. “Why didn’t you wanna play with us? You know you’re my favourite teammate.” 

“This isn’t really a sports bikini,” you explain, liking the way his hand falls from your back to your hip, twirling the string. “One deep breath and I’m flashing everyone.” 

Jake nods, patting your thigh and letting his eyes fall to your chest. “I can tell,” he says, laughing on an exhale as his hand comes up between you, pulling the black cup more securely over your left breast. “Instagram bikini.”

“Mhm.” You give him a peck, but he holds you against him, his hand slipping into your hair to keep you right where he wants you, which apparently is as close as humanly possible just to kiss you.

It’s never just kissing with Jake though, that’s the thing, and you’re not sure it ever could be. More than lips on lips and tongue on tongue, it’s a full body experience. It’s your knee slipping between his, your foot stroking his calf, it’s his dick hard against you, his hands slipping over your body. The lick of heat in the pit of your stomach, the lightness in your head and in your body like none of it is real, like you don’t really exist. But you could never complain, not when his soft lips move so savouringly over yours. Not when his tongue licks into your mouth with such care, drawing hushed whines out of you, out of him, deep and slow like he wants to feel every single part of your mouth, like he wants to fall into you, to become one.

Unconcerned about anyone else, Jake lets his hand slip over your ass, cupping it gently. And as much as you like it, you lift his hand to a decent height on your waist, making him chuckle. “Couldn’t. Help. It,” he tells you between kisses and breaths. “Not. Sorry.”

“You’re a disaster, Jake,” you whisper, even though you’re smiling, even though the only thing keeping your hands out of the front of his shorts is that they’re too busy tugging his hair. “No decorum at all.”

“I’m saying this in the most respectful way possible, but it’s kinda impossible for me to have decorum when you look like that. I mean, now that I’m allowed to touch you after all these years of wanting to, Yongie, it’s all pent up.” His gentle voice doesn’t match his words or the hungry look in his blown eyes. 

You gulp, and the only thing you can think to say is, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Look so good in black, in everything.”

“Thank you.” Holding eye contact is a feat, but there’s nowhere you’d rather look than at your sweet Jake, no matter how much your cheeks burn. 

“Such a perfect girl, YN, even look good in nothing,” he says, and you can hear in his raspy voice, see in his lidded eyes, feel on your stomach that he wants you in a way he can’t have you on the beach, but it just sounds earnest. Sweet. 

The smile on your face and the cold sweat on the back of your neck answer for you. At once, it’s affirming and terrifying to hear these things from him, these things that only ever existed in the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind, nestled away behind the wholesome stuff. Cuddles and held hands. Forehead kisses, wearing his hoodie. These things you’ve only ever let out late at night by yourself. All you can do is hide your face in his chest and feel the rumble of his laughter on your nose.

“Don’t need to be shy, Yongie, not with me,” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head. 

Leaning back, you face him again, liking the freckles forming in the middle of his face, scattered over the broad bridge of his nose, the red pimples on his forehead and chin, this face you’ve come to know better than your own. As if it’s your own. How could you ever be shy with him? Your bestest friend, your… whatever he is now. Dread casts a cool shadow over you at the mere thought. You press a soft kiss to his lips, but it doesn’t help.

“I’m not shy, this is just weird,” you admit. “No offence."

“What’s weird?”

Motioning into the space between you, you cringe at the way Jake’s face falls, though briefly. He clears his throat before he speaks. “You don’t like… us?”

“I do, Jake. I love it, I just…” You press your lips together and wait, either for Jake to supply the rest of your sentence or the world to come to its fiery end, saving you from the duty of salvaging what you’ve so quickly torn apart. Neither happens, so you push on, ignoring the ache in your chest. “I pictured this for so long that having it, having you, is a bit weird. Not in a bad way, it’s just… as if it’s not real or something, like I’m dreaming.”

Jake pinches your waist, making you cry out and you hear your friends cheering behind you. “See, Yongie? Not a dream. Dreams aren’t nearly as good as this,” he says.

He’s right, but just like he said they wouldn’t, things have changed a lot. Good change — amazing, even — but that doesn’t make this any less surreal. Doesn’t tamp the fuzzy feeling when he kisses you or tells you that he loves you, nor the way he seems to glow whenever you look at him. After all, the sun can’t rise if it doesn’t set, and dream or not, you’ll have to wake up eventually. 

Seeming to realise he hasn’t quite soothed you, he changes his tack, stroking your hair and pecking your lips. “Does all of it feel like that or just right now, Yongie?”

You take a moment before responding, trying to feel more in the moment than in your head. Over your shoulder, your friends chat and bicker and laugh, the same as everyone else around you. By Jake’s head, the coarse sand is hot on your palm, slipping easily through your fingers. Against you, Jake is solid, he is warm and waiting. Patient. Yours. On his collarbone, there is a purple bloom in the shape of your mouth. It’s enough to ease the tightness in your throat so you can say, “Just right now.”

Jake doesn’t speak right away, only eyeing you instead, slowly like he’s taking you in. He gulps before he speaks. “I think that’s alright then, Yongie. Because even if this is a dream, I’ll be sleeping right next to you when you wake up, won’t I?” he asks, waiting for your response. You nod, so he continues. “And I’ll love you just as much as I do right now.”

You have no idea how you got so lucky, how someone could possibly love you this much—how that someone could be the one person you’ve wanted so badly all this time. His heart and yours beating in tandem, towards and for each other, bound by a single thread of gold or something greater, and you had no idea.

“Okay,” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Now I’m shy.”

Holding you tight, he presses his lips to your ear. “So am I,” he admits. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say back, and it feels more honest than before, better somehow. Better to hear the spread of his lips into a smile, to feel it and his heart racing against his chest. Against you.

Being this close to him is addictive, to deeply inhale his citrus and sunscreen scent, and taste the salt of the ocean on his skin, is maddening. A hot, shaky breath hits your shoulder when you lick his neck, fingertips sinking deeper into your flesh. 

The promise of food wasn’t enough to separate the two of you, but the smell of food wrenches you apart, forcing you to join the circle of your friends eating burgers and hot dogs and chips. 

And even as you sit cross-legged, laughing and talking with everyone else, Jake’s hand rests on your thigh, and your hand rests on top of his. At least until it’s actually time to eat, and he splits his burger in two while you do the same with your hot dog, giving each other the bigger half—you don’t even have to check to know he’s taken the pickles out. With your thumb, you wipe ketchup from the side of his mouth and he adjusts the cup of your bikini and both of you giggle at the fuss your friends make about it.

Once everyone’s done eating, Jake volunteers the two of you to take away all the rubbish, stuffing carrier bags with styrofoam containers and wooden cutlery and empty cans. He carries everything over to the bins and you do all the sorting before rejoining your friends hand in hand. By the time you reach them, they’re all scattered, split off by activity—napping, drinking, and reading. With you two back, another activity starts: planning. “Are you free tomorrow, darling?” Jake asks, his arm heavy around your shoulders.

“Yes, Jakey.” 

A smile plays at the corner of his lips and he nods his head, but he keeps his gaze locked on the shore no matter how long you stare at him. “Same,” he says.

“Cool,” you say, grinning. 

Red scatters slowly over his ears and neck, nipping his cheeks as they lift with his smile and finally, he looks at you. Eyes wide and golden in the sun, brown hair blackened and slicked back with seawater save for one stubborn strand over his forehead. He looks like a prince and your heart stutters in your chest at the thought. 

“Well… since we’re both free tomorrow, how about I take you out, Yongie?” 

“Like, on a date?” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand for fear of screaming at the top of your lungs. 

Jake chuckles, taking your wrist in his hand and tugging it down. “Yeah, gorgeous, exactly like a date. Just you and me.”

Heat overtakes you, flooding your cheeks and your neck and swirling in your stomach, an endless stir all throughout your body like a shaken can of fizzy juice. “Yes, please,” you say, but it’s more of a squeak.  

“You’re so cute,” Jake says under his breath, pulling you close to kiss your temple. “I’ll pick you up at eight, alright?”

And even though you’re staying in the same house, you nod and tell him, “I’ll be ready at seven. I’m ready now.” 

As he said he would, at eight p.m. sharp, Jake knocks on the door of the bedroom you share to pick you up. And as you said you would be, you were ready at seven. 

In the external sense at least, because you’ve spent an hour admiring your reflection and taking pictures in the short white linen dress that the girls picked out for you. On the inside, you feel about as relaxed as a fish out of water, your stomach and its contents flipping and flopping. It’s just a shame he arrived before you thought to repack your suitcase or alphabetise your bodycare on the sink. But none of that matters in the end, because when you open the door and see Jake standing behind it, smiling, you can’t even remember what you were so worked up about. 

“H—” His eyes widen, looking you up and down and down and up before he clears his throat and he tries again. “You look so beautiful, Yongie.”

“So do you.” 

The giggle that he lets out is contagious, passed between your mouths in a kiss that lasts too long. Taking your hand, he leads you through the suspiciously quiet house, hardly a trace of your friends at all as you step out into the garden, going all the way to the back behind the shed. Jake climbs the stile in the fence first, then helps you over with his hands on your waist. On steady ground, you don’t pass up the opportunity to press a kiss to his soft lips. 

“I love this dress,” he tells you. “My. Beautiful. Girl.”

Despite the grin on your face, still you keep your mouth on his. “Always. All. Yours.” 

“Lucky, lucky me,” Jake says through a smile, giving you a peck and then another before pulling you through the clearing and out to the beach. 

Generous perhaps, to call it a beach, this little private strip that’s more giant slabs of glittering rock than sand along the shore where you all used to skinny dip until a rogue jellyfish stung Jay’s ass. A smile splits your lips at the memories, a happy warmth in your chest that only heightens and spreads at the nod of Jake’s head towards something behind you. On the rock furthest from the water, is a cosy-looking nest of blankets and cushions, lined at the outer edge with fairy lights, and a wicker basket in the middle of it all. 

“You like it, Yongie?” he asks, a sheepish look in his curious eyes. 

“Jake…” You trail off, unable to find the words to express how much you love it. How much you love him. 

Behind him, the tide rushes against the rocks, a constant crash that rivals the thud of your heart, darkening the slabs and making them glossy. In your silence, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scrunching his nose. “I know it’s not much, but I didn’t want to wait until we got home to treat you.” His voice is but a murmur over the ocean, and still your stomach sinks.

“Are you joking? Jake, no one’s ever do—” Realising how wrong you are, you have to stop mid-sentence, because someone has done something like this for you before, because Jake is always doing things like this for you. Always going out of his way to show you he cares, to make you happy. “It’s perfect,” you say. “It’s absolutely perfect.” 

Together on the blanket, Jake lets you open up the basket, beaming as you fawn over the crisps and dip he picked out, the nice cocktail cans and yogurt-covered pretzels, the banana chips. And a delighted laugh comes out of him when you lose your mind at the sight of a clear container with honeydew feta salad inside, chili crisp tickling your nose as soon as you take the lid off. “Look how thin you sliced the cucumbers!” you all but squeal.

Jake, who only ever slices his cucumbers in thick strips, is blushing, beautiful red breaking through his smiling cheeks. “Jay helped a little bit with that, but it was mostly me once I got the hang of it.” 

Fuelled by love and hunger and a quick kiss, you continue through the basket. Japchae, tinfoil wrapped ham & cheese toasties, and perfectly pinched dumplings. Raspberries dipped in dark chocolate, and a foggy tub of pork belly. It’s more food than you’re sure you can eat, but you’re happy to try. Apart from what he’d obviously picked up, it’s clear he made it all himself — with maybe some help — and all for you. 

Your giggles are instantaneous, light and giddy, as Jake joins in. “So this is why I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen all afternoon?” 

He nods. “Worth it?”

“More than,” you whisper, liking the pleased smile on his lips. Looking into the basket once more, you find a heap of shiny gold foil beaming up at you. “Holy shit,” you manage through a laugh. 

“What, baby?” 

Like a magic trick, when you grab the first condom, an endless string of them follows from the depths of the basket and you can’t stop laughing, genuinely having to fight for breath. “I was wondering what we were gonna have for dessert.”

Jake doesn’t share in your amusement though, his face falling as he snatches them like they might hurt you, and says, “I didn’t put those in there!”

“Are you sure?” 

“I swear.” 

Even though you believe him, you can sense the evening taking a turn towards how-to-kiss-gate and nip it in the bud immediately, giving him a big hug and assuring him that you know he wouldn’t do that, all while stifling your laughter and stroking his hair. 

With Jake’s mood all taken care of, it’s time to tuck in and the food he prepared is just as good as it looks. The japchae light and the pork belly tender, sweet salad with a perfect kick. You can’t help but moan around each bite, around his fingers when he feeds you raspberries, constantly losing track of the conversation as it goes. Patient as ever, Jake only repeats himself or reminds you gently, accepting your apologies with a smile, seeming happy just to be here. Just to be with you. As the heat of the sunshine wanes, so too does your hunger. Having tried everything, you at least feel satisfied when you tap out, pushing your plate towards him. He’s not faring much better than you are, though he does finish off your pork belly. The more time you spend out here, the more you notice how lost he gets in the quiet, frozen in place, staring into the distance. 

All it takes to steal his attention from the glimmering shoreline is you squeezing his knee, gaze finding yours, lips curling into a dizzying smile. A lingering peck pressed to your lips, your cheek, and then, “Can we talk about something?”

“Mhm.”

Looking down at his lap, Jake clears his throat and says, “I know a lot has changed between us since your birthday, but in my opinion it’s all been good. What do you think?” It’s only when he’s finished speaking that he looks at you.

“It’s different, but it feels right,” you admit, mirroring the grin that spreads on his lips. “I’m happy, Jake. You make me happy.” 

Seeming a bit more sure of himself, he nods, locking his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. “I’m the same, I mean you’re exactly what I want, Yongie. You’re who I want. You always have been, and you make me so… I just get so excited when it comes to you, even if I read your name somewhere or I hear it, my heart beats out of my chest.” 

As he says the words, your heart does exactly that, beating so fast and so hard you can hear it in your ears, feel it in your throat. You can’t believe this is happening, that any of this has happened over the past few days, that tomorrow, when you wake up in the morning, it’ll be to pack your bags and go home. 

“And I feel really sorry that you had to hear it from someone else first, but I love you, YN. I love you so much. I wanna do everything with you, and more than anything, I’d like to be your boyfriend,” Jake admits, only taking a beat to breathe at the end. “Is that… would you like that as well?” 

Fuzzy warmth finds a home in your chest, blooming and spreading and forcing giggles out of you. Nodding your head, it’s all you can do to hope he can read your mind like he always has. More than anything, Jake, you think. You’re all I want. Like a penny to a magnet, your lips find his, drawn in over and over and over again. You can’t even help it. Can’t help but hold his face in your hands. Can’t help but say, “I. Love. You.” Hardly noticing you’ve been kissing for so long until your knees start to ache against the blanket. 

You pull away and don’t wipe your lip gloss from his smiling face. 

Once the two of you manage to stop giggling and kissing and lingering and kissing again, packing up the picnic is an easy task. You hand empty containers to Jake who places them neatly in the basket, same with your cutlery and cans and wrappers.

It really doesn’t take long at all and with pursed lips, he latches the basket shut, patting the top and staring out at the shore before saying in a quiet voice, “I really am sorry about the condoms, Yongie. I’m sure it was just one of the guys trying to be funny or something.”

“I know, I know, and I thought it was funny, baby, it is funny. We’ll just take them back to our room and see how many we can use tonight,” you suggest, already looking forward to later, hoping that he’s looking forward to it too, though his expression betrays nothing.

Jake’s eyes flick over your face and he finally smiles, a slow, lopsided, butterfly inducing curve of his lips as he takes your locket in his hand, pulling you closer for a quick kiss. “Lower your expectations, my love. Promise you’ll be happy even if we only use two?”

Your stomach does a swoop at that, my love. “I’d be happy even if we didn’t use any,” you tell him, breathless. 

“That would kill me, YN, alright? I’m serious,” he says, with a great big grin on his face.

“Well, we’re dying on the same day, remember? Might not be too bad.”

Even though he chuckles, he rolls his eyes, seeming to give in. “Whatever then, have it your way.”

You hum, shaking your head as you push Jake’s hair from his face to get a good look at him. At his freckled nose and lopsided smile. “Obviously if you want to use a condom we’ll use one, Jakey. Or two just like you said.”

“I don’t,” he admits, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

A smile curls your lips and a flutter stirs your stomach. “Not before the sun goes down, I want to see it.”

“Sounds good, love. Later then.” And with the matter settled, he kisses your forehead. Then the tip of your nose, then your lips. Unlike the first two though, this kiss is lingering. This kiss is the press of bodies against one another, thighs and hips and chests and lips. It’s Jake’s soft hair between your fingers, his big hands slipping to your waist, holding you as tightly as possible. Like this, you kiss and you kiss and you kiss, separating only for the time it takes to tug his T-shirt up and over his head—all plans of watching the sunset long forgotten.

Still attached at the mouths, Jake lays you down on the blanket, his palm clutching your hip through your dress as he settles between your thighs. A lick of molten need consumes you at the weight of his body on yours, at the closeness of his lean frame. How you’re connected everywhere it matters. Damp press of sweat-slick skin on linen. Grind of rough denim on soft lace. Tug of hair between fingers and warmth of whimpers passed from his mouth to yours and right back. 

Wet kiss after wet kiss from neck to collarbone, shallow breaths warm your skin from collarbone to heaving chest, tearing a desperate sound out of you. Teeth on linen, tugging at the neckline of your dress, trembling hands coming up to help, to pull it down and hook it underneath your bare breasts.

Jake pulls away and it’s like seeing God, your breath hitching at the sight of him, at how the setting sun filters through his hair, catching him at the edges so that he glows. His chest rises and falls heavily as he looks down at you, his eyes blown and latching onto your breasts, inching slowly upwards along the shiny saliva path he’s left behind. From his swollen lips, the word, God, falls, a gravelly sound, ragged like it came from the depths of him, enough to make you shiver. He lets his palm roam the length of your body, over your stomach and up between your breasts until his long fingers slip over your shoulder to straighten your locket on its chain. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he says, eyes tracking the same path before they flick up to meet yours. “You’re so…” He shakes his head. “So, so beautiful.”

Causing this reaction, being the one to get to him this much, and seeing it, is a rush unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced. In this state, this stupor, you could probably ask him to do anything, tell him, and he would, and only on the basis that it came from you. Inexplicable heat pools between your legs at the mere thought.

“Thanks.”

An unbearable beat passes, scored by the whisper of the breeze and the kiss of tide against rock, before Jake wets his lips and says, “What’d you say, gorgeous?”

“You want them in your mouth, don’t you?” Your wavering voice betrays your nerves, but if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care. 

His pretty mouth falls ajar, wordless lips closing and opening again until he gulps, nods his head.

Spurred on by his level of engagement, his willingness and pliancy, there’s nothing you can do to stop your mind from running wild, alight with possibility, the future suddenly an exciting thing for as long as Jake is with you. It’s this, your certainty, your desire, that levels your voice when you speak. “Are you gonna be good and hurry up then?”

“Fuck,” he whispers before clearing his throat and speaking softer than you’ve ever heard. “Yes, love. Gonna be good for you, gonna be so good.” He’s already leaning in. 

Taking your nipple between his teeth, Jake has you gasping, has your back arching up towards him as his tongue flicks out over the sensitive skin to soothe it. A cry of his name, a huffed breath, a shudder at every tug, at every lick, at every moan he lets out around you. Caught up in the feel of it all — of his sweet mouth and muffled whines, of the knot tying itself in your stomach — you don’t even notice that his hand has left your other breast until his thick fingers press on the lace between your thighs.

Chasing it, the pressure, your hips buck, grinding until Jake curses under his breath and pulls away. To the chill of the air on your wet chest, you sigh, opening your eyes to the sight of your beautiful boyfriend kneeling between your spread thighs. Straight teeth dent plush bottom lip. Heavy eyelids blink slowly. Pink flush on his cheeks, his neck, spreading to his chest that heaves with his breath. Your toes curl against the blanket. He looks about as good as you feel—looks better. Unsticking the damp cotton, Jake pushes your underwear to the side so the breeze rushes against you, cool and overwhelming and drawing a gasp from your parted lips. 

His eyes fall as he spreads your wetness from your slit up to your clit and groans. “Love how wet you get for me, YN, always feel so good.”

Every last inch of your body responds to his touch, to him and the low sound of his voice, to the slow push of two thick fingers into you. Clamping together, your knees knock with a smack, thighs trapping Jake’s wrist where it is. The tension in your stomach is immediate, hot and heavy as he curls his fingers where they are, just brushing right where you need him to.

"Good, baby,” you manage, breathless. “Like that.”

Parting your knees, he pushes further and the sweet pressure sends a burst of blinding pleasure throughout your writhing body. A twist of the knot in your stomach, a moan torn out of you, stars behind your closed eyes at the sound of the smile in his voice. “Such a pretty girl, aren’t you? Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

As always, seeing Jake smile far surpasses hearing it, that broad curve, lips red and puffy around his perfect teeth. It takes your breath away to see him like this, to hear those words from him when it’s exactly how you feel—Jake, Jaeyun, your pretty boy, and you, Yongie, the luckiest girl in the world. Especially when you notice the way his other hand is tucked into his shorts, moving slowly under the denim. 

“I wanna see, Jake,” you say. “Take them off.”

Not a second goes by before he undoes his belt and button and fly with one hand to push his shorts down. On the front of his white briefs is a dark patch where his dick strains against the cotton, precum seeping through it. A pang of hunger strikes you, tongue wetting your lips as he thumbs at the damp spot and mutters, fuck, tugging the fabric out of the way. His leaking tip is shiny and red, same as his lips. Veins curve around the rest of him, leading your eyes down his twitching length to where his fingers are wrapped around the base, unmoving. 

“Should I…” Jake trails off. 

“Please.” You nod and without missing a beat, he spits into his palm and starts stroking. 

Save for the pretty way he whines and shudders, how his nose scrunches up and his muscles tense, there’s nothing particularly special about the way he jerks off. What’s mesmerising though, what really winds you up, is the fact that it’s Jake’s big hand on Jake’s big dick. That and the fact that he’s timing his strokes with the pump of his fingers into you. The fact that the wet sound between your legs is only getting louder and lewder. Feverish heat laps at your bucking hips, ravaging your body from the inside out.

“Don’t wanna—” you blurt out, taking a moment to catch your breath, to figure out what you’re trying to say. “I don’t wanna finish like this. Need it now. You.”

“Thank fuck.” He takes his fingers straight from inside of you to his mouth, humming around them. “So good,” he mumbles, shaking his head while your cheeks burn. “You’re so perfect, YN.”

Butterflies fill your stomach, tugging your lips up at the corners. If it were up to you, this moment would never end. Jake, apparently, has other ideas though, asking, “So are we using a condom or am I dying today?” 

His question takes a second to process, to make sense of over the pounding rush of blood in your ears. “The second one,” you whisper with a smile. “And I will miss you so, so much.”

A glorious smile curls his lips, a sweet chuckle coming out of him. “Not for too long, love.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your knee. “You sure though? Sounds silly, but you’re allowed to change your mind, YN.” 

“I know.” You can’t resist reaching for him, unsure if you can stomach another second without. Against your palm, his hair is soft between your fingers. Behind him, the sun’s last rays cling to the violet sky, streaking it orange. Something twists in your chest at the sight, at the sight of Jake’s brown eyes, shining like brilliant pools of amber. There’s nothing you’d change about any of this, let alone your mind. “I’m sure about this though,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “About you.”

Jake leans into your touch, lifting his head and kissing your palm when you cup his cheek. “Me too, Yongie. I’m certain.” That certainty is warm against your skin, muffled and earnest. “Forever,” he says and this is the moment you don’t want to end.

You can’t help but take his forever to heart, because it’s a promise he’s always kept. There isn’t much for you before Jake, your memories few and far between up until he moved to your school. “Yeah, Jaeyun. Forever,” you say, and when the words come out, you are absolutely certain that there won’t be much after him either.

The moment it finally happens, you’re kissing. That slow nudge of Jake into you, the complete shrinking of the world to that burning point of your connection, the melting of two bodies into one. His shallow thrusts deepen with each push and pull of his hips until he’s filling you all the way up over and over, further than you thought possible. Pressed to your chest, his heart races just as fast as yours, beating in perfect sync. Hungrily, Jake’s lips move over yours, but his hips still against you, buried to the hilt and staying completely flush—as if the kissing, the brushing of tongues and taste of you, is the point of it all.

I love you, he says, and you say, I love you, too. On a desperate, whiny loop, those three words spill from one mouth into another, back and forth for ages until you can’t tell if it’s him saying it or you. 

Until he finishes with a cry of your name, arms giving out so his full weight presses you down. Until you finish right after, shuddering and full and so in love.

As is tradition, you all spend this last morning together. Bright and early, the kitchen is alive at eight a.m., all ten of you moving sleepily around each other while Sunghoon’s lock in playlist blares through the house. After four summers of this, you’ve gotten it down to a science, so that no one is in anyone else’s way and nothing needs to be reheated. It takes forty-five minutes, but with all of the dishes on the garden table, everyone sits around it, ready to eat the breakfast you all helped to make. 

Your plate is about as full as can be, with Jay’s gamjajeon, Jimin’s buttered toast, Sunoo’s fried eggs, and Heeseung’s pork belly all warring for space on its surface. Exactly where he wants to be, Jake sits in your lap and his plate has your overflow—his Buldak carbonara, Yizhuo’s stir-fry, and your bacon. 

Nosey as ever, your friends barely allow you to have a bite before grilling you and Jake, desperate to know what happened at the beach to make you guys come back so…

“…Weird,” Yizhuo says. “If you hadn’t been holding hands I’d have thought you called it off.” 

Around gulps of Aeri’s coffee and spoonfuls of Sunghoon’s assorted cereal, everyone nods and mumbles their agreement. Now that everyone knows about your reciprocated feelings — now that you and Jake know — it seems your friends would prefer one big debrief rather than you with the girls and him with boys. Most of the time, the morning after begins with a group FaceTime call, or a detailed rundown in the chat to catch each other up, so it’s not totally unusual to share everything with everyone at once, and of course, now that two members of the group have hooked up, the next natural step would be to tell the group together. This fact, and your knowledge of said fact, don’t make it any easier for you to find words that accurately convey the genuinely life-changing sex you had last night. How afterwards, you undressed each other reverently to fuck like animals in the shower. 

Seeming not to share your reservations, Jake has no trouble speaking. "We weren’t being weird,” he says through a yawn, even though you definitely were. “We were being in love, Yizhuo, you should try it.”

“Yes, but you’ve been in love for as long as we’ve known you, and we’ve never seen you like that.” Minjeong squints over the top of her sunglasses, pointing an accusatory spoon. “Obviously you fucked out there, but — and no offence — was it bad?”

Before you can leap to the defence of your and Jake’s sexual prowess or show them the video you took last night and ask, does it look bad? Aeri sighs, shaking her head. “They didn’t, I counted and all ninety condoms were in the basket, they didn’t even tear one from the strip.”

“Ninety? Aeri, we gave them eighty, you bought the boxes,” Sunoo says, smacking his forehead twice and going, “Stupid, stupid Jungwoo.” 

Around the table, laughter is immediate and as you wrap your arms around Jake’s waist to hold him closer, you can’t help but wish you had even one more night to spend together. Can’t help but wish you’d been even a tiny bit less in your head about him all weekend so you could’ve gotten the fullest out of this time with everyone. Only one person isn’t fighting for breath through their cackles, and it’s Aeri who only rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, because none of you have ever been with someone questionable.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she scoffs and points in your direction. “YN is literally dating Jake,” she says and everyone laughs again, even Jake, who you know is only pretending not to be irritated. 

After breakfast, it’s a heated game of rock, paper, scissors that leaves Aeri, Heeseung, Jimin, and Sunghoon on kitchen clean up duty while the rest of you are left to your own devices. Thankfully, you had the foresight to pack your suitcase, and then Jake’s, before breakfast, so all that’s left is kissing and triple-checking that you have everything you came with. 

It’s an hour before Minjeong calls up the stairs that it’s time to leave and you’re standing alone in the en-suite, staring at your reflection. Only five days have passed since you left home with the girls, but already you look so different, feel so different. A healthy glow kisses your tanned skin and the semi-permanent bikini straps on your shoulders. Your lips rest in a curve you can’t straighten out. And your locket sits under the star pendant on your chest. Jake’s locket, maybe, if the years he’s held onto it mean more than the days you’ve spent wearing it. Running your thumb over the tiny dragon, the metal is warm in your palm. Changed by the love of those you love — Jake, your friends, and the sun — you can only look forward to what might change next, knowing no matter what, you won’t have to go through it alone.

From the doorway, with his baseball cap backwards and glasses low on the bridge of his nose, Jake is already watching you. His small smile turns into a broad grin, showing all of his teeth as he lets out a happy sigh. Crossing the room to be in his arms is the absolute least you can do, sinking into his chest as he pulls you close. You tip your head back to press a kiss to the base of his neck, making him giggle. 

“You ready to go, darling?” 

You’re not ready to go, not really—you never are. Already, you want to relive the last few days, see them again with those same fresh eyes. See them with your knowing eyes and make the same decisions a million times over, because all of them have led you here, lead you to this. To Jake’s lips on yours. Regardless, you nod and say, “I am.”

In the middle of the driveway, warmed by the blazing sun, you hug all of your friends as though you’ll never see them again, as if you don’t share a flat with Minjeong, or won’t see everyone at Heeseung’s on Friday for movie night. For what it’s worth though, they all hug you the same way, with tight squeezes and mumbled I’ll miss yous and get home safes. 

Once you’ve hugged your way around the circle, you end up in Jake’s arms again, squealing when he lifts you up off your feet. His fingers grip your sides as tight as he can, warmth in your chest at the feeling and a smile on your face even as you try to wriggle free. But over your shoulder you hear the girls burst into laughter, hear Jimin cry out, no way! And there’s something to it, the disbelief in her voice, the sheer joy, that stands out to you, that tugs your heart in her direction, in theirs. You can’t ignore it, can’t ignore how much you hate the thought of having to hear about it from Minjeong at home later. 

“Would you mind if I went home with the girls instead?” you blurt out as soon as Jake sets you down on your feet.

The smile on his face doesn’t falter at all, it widens, his eyes searching yours. “That sounds like fun, Yongie. I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah, Jake, see you later,” you say, and for the first time, the thought of being away from him doesn’t make you feel sick. 

© zreamy (2026), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let me know your thoughts !

permanent tag list: @asahicore @ikeublr @loverseon @dreamy-carat @littlefluu @cherrymxxnie @mrloverboy3000 @blooqz @immortalonie @enhastolemyheart @fancypeacepersona @heatrache @kxwinasblog @kimjkejyy @anofi @hauteyun @kristynaaah @cheerrxy

[ikeulolly]

𝗦𝗔𝗬 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 , 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬. SIM JAEYUN⋆.˚✚

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : neighbors son! 𝗷𝗮𝗸𝗲 x afab! fem! reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜 nsfw sexual smut content ahead : dom! jake , sub! reader , exhibitionism , window sex , bj , angry jake , jealous jake , dirty talk , slight degradation , foul mouth ( jake ) , edging , orgasm denial , unprotected sex ( DONT ) use of names ( slut / whore ) , oral ( male rec. ) , fingering , pssy / breast play , pssy slapping , creampie . hickies , biting , make out , spanking.

𝘄𝗰 2963

♡ 𝗮/𝗻 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 : previously an anon req on previous account : member wasn't specified so I chose jakee hehe hope that's okay + i tried to include the neighbors son agenda as much as i could though i think i could've executed it better, and made him angrier idk hes just not angry enough here heh...

jake watches you from the corner of the room with his arms crossed, mist of craze and anger swimming in his dark orbs. there you were, conversing with his mom so gleefully, all smiley. but nothing was gleeful for jake. knowing damn well who you were with on a date yesterday.

"jake!" his mother calls, "walk sweet y/n back her home."

your eyes widen softly as you rest your hand on hers. "It's alright mrs sim, don't trouble jake. it's just around the block."

the woman's eyes narrow as she motions jake to come towards. "oh dear, don't worry about it! the least I can do for you spoiling us with your fresh baked treats. jake will go, won't you?"

jake is out of the door within a few strides, walking past you. you can feel the tension radiating off his stuck up body as you silently gulp.

mrs sim says her goodbyes and you turn to face jake, who had his back to you, already walking.

the walk home is silent. not awkward, instead full of unsaid tension and borderline nerve wracking. just as you turn around the block, jake opens his mouth. "jay, huh?"

jay. the older finance rich dude who's guts jake hates. the one who keeps hovering around your block, keeps sending you gifts, hangs out too much, one who drops you home from office during late nights. jake despises him. you know this. and jake knows you both just fuck, yet, the anger blazing through his body at the thought of you and jay is involuntary almost.

you almost stop dead in your tracks, but keep walking nevertheless when jake doesn't slow down his angry strides. before you know it, you reach your house, right foot already stepping up the short stairs until you're facing the front door. "It's... he was nice," you gulp. "asked for casual dinner... I said yes."

jake looks at you for a fleeting moment, but even during that short span of seconds, the angry glint in his eyes is evident. the sharp line of his jaw hardening and his cut crystal gaze speaking volumes. his hard stare pinning your body against the door without him even having to do anything. "you said yes." he repeats.

your thighs twitch closer, his odd anger stupidly inviting your arousal. of course, it goes unnoticed by jake. "want to... come inside?" you propose. the intention behind your words is transparent, jake can tell.

before you know it he inches closer to you, too close. his breath fans down on you, eyes not even averting once. his left hand reaches beside your waist, twisting your knob open and unlocking your door. your breath hitches when the wood behind you shifts but jake is quicker, his right hand shooting up to hold your waist.

everything happens within seconds. his strong arm circling around your waist, almost lifting you as he enters inside, closing the door open ajar with his heel. a sharp gasp spills off your parted lips when jake crouches the slightest to sweep you right off your feet and onto his shoulder.

your upper body immediately folds so that you are face to face with his lower back. before the blood even rushes to your upside down head fully for you to form a coherent thought, jake's hard palm comes up to spank your ass right besides his face. "ow— jake!"

he's already started walking towards your bedroom, and it's almost like everything you say irks him further because now he's landing several tight slaps against you plush denim jean clad ass.

reality settles upon you when jake drops you, rough yet gently over the mattress of your queen sized bed. you land on your bottom, body balanced by your bent elbows either side of your rib. "what are you...?"

"you talk so fucking much.." he mutters as his hands immediately drop to his waist, popping open his jean button followed by a hasty pull of the zip down until his clothed bulge is visible behind the unzipped denim.

like instinct, you reposition yourself against the edge of the bed. jake comes closer, his rough palm burying itself into your silky locks, grabbing a handful of hair, not to hurt, just for stability. but he already knows you don't mind the pain.

your shaky hands move fast. pulling down his boxers along with his pants until his hard, leaky, throbbing dick is set free. the force makes it sprung against his tummy, in all its glory. jake has to tap your left cheek lightly with two of his fingers for you to snap out of the daze you were in. "suck."

your fingers curl against his length. squeezing and twisting from the base of the cock to his angry red tip. jake groans at the feeling, his fingers curling tighter in your hair as he growls. "use your fucking mouth, or is that only for chatting with lousy dudes like jay?"

as soon as your tongue is out, jake thrusts his hips into you warm heated mouth. the length of him makes your cheeks puff out as you hum absentmindedly around his cock. "this is what your mouth is for." his movement grows erratic, dick rubbing itself against your hot tongue as your eyes water at the friction.

"for taking my cock, that's what it's for— fuck!" his brows furrow as his watches his cock slip in and out of your warm mouth glazing him with your spit as a singular tear rolls down your flushed cheeks. "oh fuckk..."

the view of your wide eyes staring up at him while you let him fuck yourself into your mouth makes jake realise he might cum faster than he thought. with a pop, he pulls out of your mouth. you gasp slowly, fingers gripping his thighs confused.

"get on the bed." he instructs, hands moving to remove his jeans entirely. you obey, crawling back the mattress until your back is pressed against the pillows, hands already pulling your shirt over your head. jake mirrors you, hands moving to throw his shirt off and away. your jean shorts come off next, til you're left in your underwear.

before you can completely eradicate all the clothing off your body, jake's hand grips your ankles, pulling you across the bed with ease. you immediately shriek at the move, now under a panting jake who towers you over the mattress. "you drive me fuckin' crazy, you know that?"

you twist your head, unable to look at him in the eyes upon hearing the raw confession. but he doesn't have any of it, grabbing you jaw to make you face him again. "who the fuck said you could fuck around with jay?"

you can't come up with an excuse even if you want to so you gulp slowly, breath hitching. "sorry."

"you're sorry baby?" he asks, breathlessly with a scoff. his bangs falling over his angry furrowed eyebrows as his necklace dangles over your face.

you have to physically stop yourself from running your palms over his exposed bare and toned body, settling with a weak nod instead.

"if you're sorry, then you're gonna let me use you today. use and mark your body to the point where jay could spot my teeth on you a mile away? alright?"

as soon as a breathy yes escalates off your lips, he's pushing your legs apart. his knee goes straight in between your parted legs as he distracts you with his lips against yours. his mouth moves fast, desperate, fiery sharp hasty movements that make you lose your breath, all while his knee adds pressure against your clothed core.

"did jay fuck you?" he asks through gritted teeth against your mouth. you gasp air, "no." his rough palms leave your hips and travel to your crotch, pulling your panties down your legs. "good." you shimmy the fabric off, his knee now in direct contact with you bare heat. you whimper into his mouth and jake has to reluctantly tear himself off of you. "get up."

despite your shaky legs and weak body, you pull youself up. jake immediately catches your wrist and drags you around until you're pinned to the clear bedroom full wall window.

you gasp at the force and then your eyes widen. his palms come from the behind to grope your clothed breasts. the view is the house next block, your neighbours. jake's house. his palm is splayed against your mounds, moving and gripping such that the fabric of your bra bunches up, below your collarbones. and when your nipples are exposed, his front presses against your back with such force that your body is pressed against the shocking cool glass making you hiss.

jake licks down your ear. "jake, your mum might see.. ah!" he pushes your legs apart as his tip teases your entrance. "shut up brat." his palm comes to your front, dipping straight between your legs. his fingers immediately part your lips, feeling how dripping wet you were with slick gathered in your folds. "you wish that was jay instead of my mum huh? watching you."

you manage to squeak out a short refusal amidst his fingers gliding over your clit with fast and fixed pressure. "no..." jake growls against your ears, his hips bucking into yours. "liar, i can feel you fuckin' getting wetter."

his cock slides into you next, too fast for you to adjust. "jake! fuck, wait, let me—" he drops his head to your shoulder biting you over your shoulder instead. "hnghh— fuck!" his hard, thick cock throbs against your warm gummy insides as he starts thrusting into you balls deep frantically. you dont even have half the mind to process your naked body still pressed against your clear window with a good neighborhood view.

jake kept drawing 8s on your clit with a force unneeded, pressing and pinching your clit as your knees threaten to give out, all while his cock keeps fucking into your hole while your head lolls behind, moaning his name, exposing more of your throat to him which he bites lightly.

"fuck you're so tight, fuck, so tight for a slut," the window rattles with the force of jake snapping his hips into you, his enormous cock abusing your pussy as you cry out. "fuck.. fuck jake im gonna... hmn—"

"yeah? you're gonna cum?" you gnaw helplessly against the glass, eyes scrunched shut, nodding mindlessly.

and right as you were about to tip over the edge, jake pulls out. a breathy groan escapes off you as you open your eyes. reality dawning upon you when jake's house returns to your vision. a clear silhouette of mrs jake working against the kitchen counter visible. you gasp, left arm immediately pulling a the curtain across the window.

you turn around, ready to issue a plea or fuss about the open window, before which, jake closes off the distance between you again. his huge palms below your buttocks, picking you off the ground effortlessly, carrying you back towards the bed, which he drops you on rather harsher this time.

"you're not gonna cum so easily this time." he crouches down, muttering darkly against your lips. before you can protest, jake kisses you. his lips move against yours with unknown determination. his tongue parts your lips hastily before dipping into your mouth. the wet muscle explores your mouth, runs over your lips before clashing with your tongue with angry fervor.

you claw at his shoulders to keep yourself grounded, to which, jakes left arm comes up to hook your wrists above your head. meanwhile, his right one travels downwards to play with your pussy.

lewd moans escape your parted lips, which jake has his tongue shoved into currently as your thighs clamp against his veiny arm disappearing into your legs. his fingers flick and tease your sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced expertise as you writhe and shake under him. with a few more strokes, jake gathers the slick pooled between your folds and thrusts two of his fingers into your awaiting hole.

your walls suck his fingers in like a vice. "s' fuckin' tight fuck... all for me.." you immediately scrunch your eyes shut, the beyond pleasurable heat of the stretch coursing upwards through your body. jake bites your jutted out lower lip at that. "look at me baby. look at me when you fuck yourself on my fingers." jakes fingers pump in and out of your cunt, your hips follow his rythm, stuttering up and down to match his pace. "I can't— ngh!"

"you can. you can fucking do it, let me see your ruined face." your eyes flutter open and jake let's you breath for a moment before leaning for a kiss again. this time, his tongues out as he makes out with yours fiercely. it's obvious he's dominating you and the kiss, the way his mouth claims yours with his wet muscle moving in tandem with yours. the only sound resonating off the walls in the schlick and squelchy sounds of his fingers pumping you full and the wet smack of your lips.

"m cumming— m...mcum— " you gasp out, feeling your impending orgasm rise again. a sharp mix of a gasp and a groan that scrapes off your throat when sim jake pulls his fingers out of you again.

"jakey!" you sniff in disbelief, small tears accumulating at your waterline at your denied pleasure.

jake trails open mouthed hot kisses down your throat and collar before leaning back upwards. the right hand which was fingering you now lands a sharp, stinging slap against your spread pussy as you shriek, heat rushing to your face. "told you cumming wasn't that easy."

your eyebrows twitch as he crawls down and further towards you. "y' wanna cum?"

you nod weakly at which he tuts. "words."

"yes.."

"you gotta say please, pretty."

"yes please."

"perfect." jake huffs , hands grabbing both your ankles on the either side of him, pulling them upwards and straight over hid broad shoulders, almost lifting your lower back off.

he pulls a pillow from the side for your back, helping your readjust. when you're set, he holds your legs thrown over him with a tight grip, his still thick, hot and angry cock with aligned precum nudging your entrance. "I'll let you cum now, and you're gonna take it like a good slut."

you're only reduced to incoherent babbles and sloppy nods as jake's cock enters your pulsing hole slowly. he goes as slow as he could, letting you feel the stretch as your slick coats his veiny length disappearing inside you. he's balls deep inside you, making you feel so full you clench your toes, legs right by jakes head.

"m' gunna—," he begans thrusting his hips into you, his arms gripping your plush thighs so tight you're convinced there will be a mark. "gunna fuck you soo good.."

"please...pl— ah! jake!" you scream out feeling his dick plunge into you with a practiced paced, the drag of his cock against your tight walls making your eyes roll back your head.

"yeah? fuck you like a slut?"

"yes ye- please..." you mutter absent mindedly, pleading for god knows what, the vigorous snap of jake's hips against yours making your eyes roll back higher and higher. a trail of broken whines and moans escape your lips as you ground yourself on the mattress with your palms gripping the sheets. jake leans down towards your throat. the action making him fold your legs against you as you cry out, the angle making his cock reach areas that provided you a pleasure so intense you couldn't even fathom.

he licked your throat, bit lightly, small, lingering, tiny nips against your sensitive skin. marking you. he followed the sting of his teeth with the soothe of his lips, trailing sensual open mouthed kisses along your pulse and bones. he let go of your thighs, arms now flexing on either side of your head, his face buried into your neck.

as his dick hammers you into the mattress further and further, you feel the familiar band tightening in your lower belly. "jakey,, im gonna... gonna cum," you say in broken sentences. your arms immediately fly over behind his neck, nails scratching his back, you hanging onto his body in sheer desperation.

jake pulls his head up to watch you finish. growls escape his lips as you watches you get ruined under him. your hair's a mess, mouth wide ajar as your face contorts into pleasure all while your body heaves in sync with his thrusts. "fuck.. cum f'me."

the band snaps, the tension of the familiar coil building loosens. your orgasm washes over your body in waves. the intense climax shooting pleasure coursing through your body as you yell jake's name like a chant.

amidst the blank of your mind as you finish, jake's hips falter, fucking you through your orgasm as he feels himself cumming. "fuck- fuck im," with a silent groan and a deep grunt, jake jerkily fucks his hips into yours. his cum spurts inside you, painting your walls white. you feel his warm sticky seed completely fill you to the hilt.

jake pants heavily over you while you try to catch your breath. his cock still inside you, goes limp slowly as you feel the exhaustion take over your body. the bites and sucks he left over your body slowly turn sore. jake lifts his head. his messy wet bangs stuck to his forehead as an odd, territorial dark swims in his pupil.

his right hand moves lower, until it cups your cheeks, half the force as before. "if i hear jay's name once more, i won't let you cum even if you run out of your please's, pretty."

♡ 𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗨𝗟𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗬 — works 📂 2026.

[riumori]

( 💬 ) LONG CHAT (#♡) — SIM JAKE

BLACK HEART ❥ 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 .

( ♡ ) ft. sci-geek!jake & fem!reader

BACK 2 SHELF ─── ### a boy who’s mistaken for being mean meets a clumsy and forgetful girl ✶ cw: strangers to friends to lovers fluff crack ⧽ jake is misunderstood kissing ✉️ 1O25O words

[ >ᴗ< note ] . the book awkward forever resonates with me,, bringing back my love for sci geeks starting off with jake alsooo new layout how r we feeling….😈

THE CLOSER YOU APPROACH CLASSROOM 116, THE MORE YOUR FRIENDS’ WORDS replay in your head as the light above you flickers. Don’t visit the science hall after school hours—the boy ghost of the science hallway will be mad. Once you go, you’ll never come back. This and that and so much more. Hell, your friends even fear the ghost and even constantly refuse to go with you. 

Apparently, he watches over it once the bell sounds at 3:15 p.m. The clock down at the end of the hallway struck 3:20 p.m. leaving you in shambles. You mentally scold yourself for leaving your chemistry notebook behind after being in quite the hurry to leave, lunch was calling you. 

If you weren’t so clumsy, then you would’ve never left it. Nevertheless, your forgetfulness doesn’t help your case either. You only realize you lost your notebook a few minutes before the end-of-the-day bell had gone (excluding the extra time it took you to remember where you last had it). 

You don’t know anything about this ghost, nor have you heard anything about him. Today is the first time and hopefully the last. Another thing one of your friend’s told you was the fact that anyone who came within the ghost’s vicinity became wary of the science hall.

Even if it is during the school day.

You shake your head and reach for your phone with quick movements. Maybe your friends can help you from wherever they currently are.

You: I can’t do it. I’m too scared.

Minju: You’ll be fine, trust me.

You: You’re the same person who told me that you fear the name of the ghost???

Minju: Pfft what?? I don’t recall… 

Sunoo: Say his name three times and he’ll appear, (Name)...

You: You’re not helping my case, Sunoo! 

Jiung: He’s the meanest of them all, even worse than the grinch. I heard stories about him—one look his way and you’ll be turned into stone like Medusa or be attacked with whatever chemicals he made in his beakers.  

Your grip tightens on your cell phone, leaving you even more nervous than before. It’s your fault for thinking your friends could help you. It’s obvious to you they’re only making it worse. 

Minju: Rumor has it, he’s a student at our school. Apparently, he omits bad omen and is really rude to many.

You take a step forward, inching closer and closer to the shut door that belongs to classroom 116, eyes still glued to your phone screen. 

Sunoo: He’s even in our grade, but people rarely see him unless they share a class with him. He’s always cooped up in a science classroom, probably haunting the hall whenever he gets a chance.

What? He’s your age? 

Your head tilts in confusion. Did the ghost take over the student’s body?

Jiung: Only a few know of his name. Others are too afraid to utter it because they’re scared that he’ll appear before them if they do.

Minju: It’s Sim Jake.

“Sim Jake?” You say out loud in a questioning tone as you subconsciously open the door. You’re not aware of your current surroundings due to your fixated attention onto your phone, however the clanking of glass changes that. It causes your head to shoot up at a quick speed and sends your gaze darting around the room, taking note of where you are standing—inside classroom 116.

Your chemistry class from earlier. 

Your phone slips from your grasp, hitting the ground with the screen facing up. The dimness emits the dark classroom as you reach down to pick it up with shaky hands. For some reason, the classroom feels more different than it would during the first period.

It’s dark. Very dark. 

All you need to do is grab your notebook and get out of there ASAP, but your legs won’t move. You’re stuck and frozen in fear. You’re afraid that any sound you make, including a tiny one, will alert whatever is in this classroom with you. 

Glasses continue to clink against one another, but, this time it’s lighter. More gentle. Your hand begins to pat the wall behind you in an attempt to find the lightswitch. Usually, it’s an immediate find and yet you’re struggling.  

You’re struggling so hard that you managed to knock over this plastic hanging shelf, dropping files everywhere. 

Many times in class you’d stare at the shelf wondering when it would give out. It seemed to be hanging on its last thread—literally—while you waited patiently for the time to come. And to your dismay, it just had to be now. During the moment where all you wanted was silence. Your life was on the line here. 

Your phone begins vibrating in your hand, lighting up to showcase the many text messages your friends are sending you. You definitely had the worst timing ever. Luckily, your hand starts feeling up a familiar switch as relief settles into your system. You flip it, turning on the lights in the classroom.

It’s bright. They feel brighter than usual, but maybe you were just a little too thankful to have them on.

The blue and green-ish notebook on top of your assigned desk is brought to your attention. All you have to do is grab it and leave, that’s it. You don’t even care about who else is in this classroom, seriously. 

If running means you’ll get to keep your life, that’s all that matters to you. As you approach your seat, the boy’s name replays in your head—Sim Jake.

It sounds familiar. As if you heard of it or seen it somewhere before now. 

Sim Jake.

Seriously, it has a ring to it. However, you can’t pinpoint why it feels familiar to you. Maybe it was on a school notice board or tossed around in a nearby conversation.

Sim Jake.

Maybe you’re confusing it with another name you know of. Perchance you’re hallucinating it all?

“Sim Jake,” The name leaves your lips in a whisper. A faint one at that. Your hand slaps over your mouth once you notice. 

Shoot. 

It wasn’t loud enough, right? 

Nothing will happen. Nothing can happen. 

The sight of your notebook is clearer than day as you look down at it. You’re feeling slightly overjoyed that you made it this far. Could this be a new record for the books of Geddon Prep? Most likely. You reach out for the blue and green-ish notebook, hands still shaking slightly, but it stops.

The sudden grip around your wrist stops your hand from shaking. Your eyes tighten at the feeling as an unpleasant feeling settles into your stomach.

Mere seconds of silence that feels like eternity pass by as you wait for something to happen.  Part of you is hoping the grip will loosen up and you’ll be able to get out safely, while the rest is praying that everything is just one of your silly hallucinations.

“What are you doing?”

Oh. 

It speaks. 

At this moment, you accepted your fate. You’re in trouble—big trouble, and there’s no one here to help you. It’s over for you.

“I’m sorry, please let me go alive.” You plead with tightly shut eyes. Fear took over your system. You’re starting to regret even forgetting your notebook in the first place. Maybe if you weren't so clumsy or forgetful, you could’ve avoided such a situation. 

“Please.” You beg once more.

Silence. 

However, the grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen, instead it tightens. 

“I won’t come here ever again, except for when I have class—but that’s besides the point! This place, it’s yours. All yours.” 

The words are flowing out of your mouth with no control. Perhaps it’s the scaredy cat in you talking.

“What?” It asks again. 

“Please, let go of me.” Your voice is shaky as it leaves your mouth.

“Open your eyes.” It instructs, but you don’t. 

How are you supposed to know that you can trust whatever it says? What if it’s holding a glass shard from a broken beaker at your neck? Nothing about it is trustworthy. Not at all.

“Seriously, you look stupid.” 

Okay, what the hell? Who taught whatever it is to be so insulting? Your eyes shoot open as your brows furrow. 

You start turning your head, fear disappearing from your system within a blink. It’s shocking, really. “Who are you to…” You pause, cutting yourself off. “...Talk…?” Confusion settles in at the sight before you.

It’s a boy. He’s staring back at you just as confused as you are while adjusting the gloves on his hands. 

His hands. 

If his hands are over there, then what is holding onto your wrist? You’re still looking at him when he cocks his head at your wrist with a scowl present on his face.

Your hand was clasped around your wrist. The grip that continuously tightened was yours and no one else’s. 

Well, that’s embarrassing isn’t it?

You let out an awkward laugh before releasing your wrist from your left hand. “Thank you for that.” You say and the boy bluntly stared at you, then silently turned to go back to his work station. He couldn’t even say a simple ‘you’re welcome’, really? 

“Rude much…” You mumble, but he picks up on it. However, he lets it be. It’s not that he wasn’t the kind to argue, he simply didn’t know what to say.

Also, why were you going on and on about him ‘letting go’ of you when he wasn’t even holding onto you in the first place? Plus, you called his name, he didn’t call yours.

He doesn’t even know who you are.

Still, it’s a bad habit of his. When Jake doesn’t know what to say to someone, he stares at them expressionless. Many might see this reaction as him showing attitude, when in reality, he’s trying to think of a response. 

Too bad this habit of his gave him a pretty bad reputation. 

You, on the other hand, grab your notebook feeling bothered by the boy’s reaction. Your mission to get your notebook is nearly complete—until you spot a pencil you lost three labs ago in the back of the classroom. It was your favourite pencil. You were devastated when you noticed you couldn’t find it in its special spot inside of your pencil case. Of course you’re going to take it back. It wouldn’t hurt to put your previous plan on hold for now.

Jake’s gaze is focused upon the graduated cylinder he fondled with all while crouched down to read the meniscus of one of many chemicals he poured. 

You make your way to the back of the classroom, eyes on the light pink mechanical pencil. It is such a nice pencil, you miss having it to write with. To your dismay, you are stuck writing with the tiny wooden ones that are the size of your pinky. It feels like torture.

Jake places the test tube back into its slot in the rack and attentively watches the beaker for any chemical changes. Through the clear part of it, he’s able to see you in the distance. You’re heading towards the lab bench he previously worked on, but switched stations because of the chemical spill. 

He was so in the moment, he didn’t bother cleaning it up and made a mental note to do so afterwards. However, he isn’t the one in danger. It’s you. You have nothing to protect your skin with and don’t even know what you’re approaching.

His eyes widen at the sight, and next thing you know, he’s rushing over to you. Once he’s behind you, Jake reaches out his hand to grab yours, pulling it away from the countertop. It all happens too fast for you to even register what is going on until you turn around to face a breathless boy. With knitted brows, you stare at him. Waiting for him to explain himself, especially after his rude response from earlier.

What else is he trying to do now? Is all that runs through your mind in this current moment. You eye down his figure: you notice the way his white lab coat wrinkles at the collar, the purple gloves that hug onto his fingers, how his goggles are slowly slipping down his nose bridge, and the name tag on his uniform that is shown from under his lab coat for a brief moment. 

Sim Jake it reads. This is the Sim Jake everyone fears? The ‘boy ghost’ of the science hall? From the sight before you, any fear you felt when hearing the many stories about him is long forgotten. You’re even embarrassed at the fact you believed all of them. He doesn’t seem anywhere scary as everyone describes him to be.

“Don’t,” he manages to force out between his heavy breathing. “Touch that.” 

Confusion is vividly evident on your face due to his words not explaining his movements any better. “What?” You ask, hoping he’d explain the reasoning behind all of this better this time.

Jake’s mentally cursing at himself for being so unathletic. If he wasn’t always cooped up in his room reading on about experiments or studying his butt off, then maybe. Maybe he wouldn’t be exhausted after taking a few hurried steps. 

“Don’t touch that.” He repeats then pauses to exhale. “It’s dirty.” Jake points at the spill on the lab bench deathly near your pencil and finally lets go of your hand. You squint at the liquid, unsure of what it might be, and to be honest, you don’t want to know. 

“Is that yours?” Jake questions, moving his pointing finger in the direction of the light pink mechanical pencil as you nod. 

“Yes, that’s mine.” 

“Okay, uh,” He says to himself, thinking of a plan. Jake moves in closer to the counter and crouches down as you back away from it, switching spots with him in the process. If anything, it’s Jake’s fault that this happened. He feels bad, of course, he does. This could have been avoided if he cleaned up the spill immediately. 

Instead, here you two are, standing in front of a contaminated countertop and mechanical pencil.

“Do you need the pencil immediately?” Jake asks and turns his head to look up at you. It’s not that you need it immediately, more so, you want it immediately. It’s been too long without your pencil. You aren’t sure how much longer you can survive with the tiny wooden ones. 

“Somewhat.” You reply. 

“The thing is, I kind of need to deep clean your pencil before I can return it to you. We have no clue what is on it, so it's safer that way. Is it okay if I do so tomorrow?” 

“Do what tomorrow?”

“Return it.” Jake says while rising from his crouched position. “Your pencil, I mean.” He adds.

You look back at his ongoing experiment located behind the two of you, then back at him. As much as you want your pencil now, you feel bad for rushing him since you already disrupted him once.

“Ok.” You press your notebook against your chest, tightening your arms around it. “That works with me.” 

“I’ll be here tomorrow after school. Come by whenever you can.” Jake informs and dusts his lab coat off with his covered hands, before returning back to his unfinished experiment. His face droops at the sight—he missed the chemical change, meaning he’ll have to restart everything.

However, it’s fine. He saved you from being injured either way. Maybe it’s best to clean up the spill before anything else goes wrong with whoever.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You say and turn on your left foot to begin making your way to the door. Jake’s words aren’t that audible, but you’re able to make out a simple ‘see you too’ and that is all. 

Sim Jake, the boy ghost of the science hallway, isn’t what others make him out to be. Although you misunderstood him and took his blunt stare for a rude response, a rude person wouldn’t risk their unathleticism to save someone over a mere (but possibly dangerous) spill, right? Of course not. 

Yet, Sim Jake did.

Maybe he’s used to people mistaking him for a mean person. Maybe he’s truly a nice guy that  nobody sees him for. It’s quite sad, if you’re being honest.

“Are you okay?” Minju asks, hands on your shoulders. The two of you are standing at your locker, one looking shocked, confused, and even worried, while the other looks as if their soul has been taken away.

It’s easy to guess who is who.

“I’m fine, Minju, really.” You reply and place your hands over hers. If she doesn’t stop now, surely the meal you had for lunch will be on display for everyone to see. Her shaking comes to a stop after the subtle taps from you are felt on her hands. She mutters a soft apology and lowers her hands in the process.

“Okay, but seriously, (Name). Did he do anything to you?” Questions Minju, worry lingering in her voice.

“The ghost or Sim Ja—” Minju is quick to cover your mouth with her hands, shushing you all at once. She begins looking around before lowering her hands a few moments later.

“Don’t say his name. But yes, I mean both. They’re the same person after all.” Minju says.

You playfully roll your eyes and shut your locker. “He didn’t do anything to me. He’s a nice guy.” Your words tend to shock Minju. Is it bad that he doesn’t live up to the rumors that everyone babbles about? 

“What?” You question, narrowing your eyes at her shocked face. 

“Did he brainwash you?”

“What? No. That's nonsense.” You rest your back against the lockers and turn your head to look at Minju. “I’m being serious, he’s a nice guy. The rumours about him aren’t true at all.” You sigh, then push yourself off the lockers.

The bell rings as you look at the clock diagonal from where you two stand. It’s the end of the day, meaning you’ll have to meet Jake in classroom 116 again.

“I have to go now.” You inform your friend. “Talk to you later, Ju.” You wave to her before leaving her behind and making your way to the science hall.

The same one you feared just a day ago. It’s stupid to think about. You really let the rumors get to your head. You wonder, does he even know of the rumors being said about him? You click open the classroom door with a turn of the knob, expecting to be greeted with complete darkness like yesterday, however, it’s bright. It makes you wonder even more, why was he working in the dark yesterday to begin with? 

Jake’s gaze shifts from the beaker he holds up to the doorway where you stood. At first Jake is confused as to why you’re here. Why would anyone come visit him in the chemistry classroom? He’s pretty sure that everyone at Geddon Prep fears him. However, his unsaid question is answered when he’s reminded of yesterday’s incident. Your mechanical pencil.

His eyes light up at the realization and he places the beaker down on the lab bench, then makes his way to his backpack for your pencil. You walk over to the lab bench he works at, eyeing the setup as you close the distance between you and the area. The liquid in the beaker he previously held is a lime green with other solutions in test tubes organized on a rack. 

“Here you go,” Jake says, turning around with your pencil in hand. Your head whips over at the sound of his voice and you’re greeted by the light pink mechanical pencil in his hold. Your favourite one at that.

“Thank you!” You cheer while taking it from him. The corners of his lips slightly perk up at your excitement as you bring your pencil closer to your eyes, gaining a whiff of a cologne. However, you ignore it as your excitement continues to grow. Who cares that his cologne managed to get onto your pencil and that it smells good? It’s the same exact one you previously used for sure. That’s all that matters to you. 

Jake walks back to his station to continue the experiment from before while you shove your pencil into its special spot inside your pencil case. His attention is back onto the beaker he looked at before you came into the classroom as he makes mental notes of the sight and changes. You push your backpack aside and analyze the bench surface before taking a seat on top to make yourself comfortable. 

In silence, you slightly tilt your head to the right as you watch Jake do his own thing. You’re wondering why he finds doing experiments instead of going home fun. It seems as though he’s here everyday—or at least, that’s what most of the rumors say. 

However, even if you think you’re being discreet, Jake feels your gaze on him. It’s intense in his world. He’s not good with eye contact or even being paid attention to. You can say he’s quite the introvert in such cases. Embarrassment slowly pools in his stomach as he tries to ignore your gaze. 

Spoiler alert—he fails.

“Is there something or someone behind me?” Jake gulps as he says those words, partially nervous because of the attention and whatever you’re looking at. You stifle a laugh at his response as his gaze shifts over to you. 

With a small smile and a wave of your hand you reassure him. “I’m just wondering what you’re doing, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” he says, even more embarrassed. “I’m just creating reactions and observing the outcomes.” You nod along to his words, taking in whatever he says. 

“Do you do this everyday?” You ask and this time he nods.

“It’s like a source of alone time.” Jake says. “I like it.” A faint smile appears on his lips before disappearing immediately. It’s as if he couldn’t be caught doing such a thing. 

“Why’d you stop?”

“Stop what?” Jake replies, his gaze still upon the beaker he experiments in. 

“Smiling. It was for a mere second then it disappeared the moment I blinked.” You explain and he shrugs.

“I didn’t notice.” Says Jake as he walks over to the waste beaker, pouring in the current solution to create a new one. 

“You should do it more often, it brightens your features.” You compliment while reaching over for your water bottle. Jake pauses for a moment, taking in your words. He doesn’t receive compliments often, wondering how he should reply. He doesn’t want to sound mean or as if he has a high ego, but he thinks a ‘thank you’ isn’t enough to show his gratitude. Is he overthinking this? Most likely. 

Jake opens his mouth to say a simple thank you, however, before the words can come out, you’re already changing the topic.

“I forgot, you don’t know my name.” You say while placing your water bottle in your lap. 

“Oh, right. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?” He says with a bashful chuckle, internally beating himself up for taking too long. Now he seems so full of himself.

“It’s (Last Name) (Name).” 

Your name suits you a lot is what he wants to say, yet here he is holding back. What if he makes you uncomfortable? You probably already think he’s weird from the way he ignored your compliment from earlier. 

“I’m Sim Jake.” Jake says, forgetting his previous thoughts. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late now.

“I figured.” He silently nods at your response. Right, the rumors. He’s very much aware of them and it’s obvious to him that there isn’t one person who doesn’t know about them. 

“I saw your name tag the other day.” You add, hoping it’ll make him feel a little bit better if you don’t mention that you know of him because of the rumors. It’s not like you’re lying either, you only found out he is Sim Jake because of his name tag. Instead of replying, he shrugs it off and begins mixing another solution for a different experiment.

Clearly that didn’t work.

An awkward atmosphere falls over the two of you as you start swinging your legs back and forth from where you sit. You’re unsure of what to say now. You believe your additional response didn’t help him feel any better. Hell, it wouldn’t help you either if you were in his position. 

You feel bad.

You sigh and place your hands back on the countertop. Distracted, you’re unaware of what sits near your finger—a scoopula. The sudden wince that leaves your mouth gains the boy’s attention as his head shoots up to see you holding your finger near your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks while placing the items down and making his way towards you. He scans your surroundings and your figure, noticing the scoopula that lays close to you. See, when you took a seat, you only checked for liquids, not tools. 

The moment Jake reaches you, he’s gently taking your hand into his own and pushing his goggles up with his unoccupied ones. Your injury isn’t anything big, it’s a small cut into your index finger. However, it’s bleeding. A bandage is needed.

Jake mumbles a ‘hold on’ before rushing over to his backpack and searches a certain pocket for his collection of bandaids. Judging by the slit, a regular size shall do.

“Here,” he says while holding the bandage up before him and returning to his spot in front of you. Jake takes your hand once again, ushering you to get up from your seat on the counter.

“Rinse it first.” He instructs as you two walk over to the sink. The water is lukewarm as it flows down in a stream. Not too powerful to spray everywhere yet not too weak for nothing to come out. 

His touch feels like a feather. It’s so faint, that you’d miss it if it wasn’t your main focus right now. Once there’s no sight of red, he turns off the faucet and grabs a napkin from beside the sink to pat your finger dry. The bandage needs a dry surface to stick onto, clearly this won’t do.

Jake peels off the bandage wrapper and its white backings before positioning it above the cut on your finger. He wraps it around your index finger and runs over it with his thumb, securing the seal. 

“There,” he begins. “You need to be more careful and aware of your surroundings.” Jake scolds, looking up into your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that. He is quick to avert his eyes onto something behind you to calm himself down. He was too into the moment to even register how close you two were, making him even more flustered than he usually is over small eye contact and you still staring at him isn’t helping his case either.

“Keep it covered until it heals.” Jake says and gives you a reassuring pat on the back before leaving to work on his experiment once again. You notice how his eyes quickly shifted from on you to behind you, is there something about you he doesn’t like to look at? Why else would he do that?

“Thank you…” You mumble and hide your hands behind you. “I should get going, I need to study.” You grab your belongings and bid him a farewell before leaving (more like rushing) out of the classroom door. The moment he hears the it click shut, he crouches down with his head in his hands immediately. 

His cheeks are warm against the palms of his hands as he tries to calm down. There’s no doubt about it, your eyes are truly captivating. The soft glint in them that Jake witnessed within the two second eye contact is something he can’t forget. It’s pretty much over for him, isn’t it?

He’s never felt this way—well, he’s never gotten a chance to feel this way. Jake always preferred to be alone since he was never the best at interacting with others ever since a young age. Even going to school wasn’t something he liked as a kid, he'd rather stay in bed and read articles about new scientists discoveries and so forth.

Anything but playing tag during recess.

Since that day, Jake found himself waiting for your next show. With you coming two days in a row, maybe you’ll come for a third just to keep him company, but that didn’t happen.

You didn’t show up for a third day, nor did you show up for a fourth or a fifth. It’s weird. Jake doesn’t know why he feels so down at the thought. He used to work in the classroom alone to hide from the many faces of people who were afraid of him because he refused to believe the rumors were true. Soon after, he grew to accept them and take the rumors for granted. This way nobody would bother his alone time.

That is until you came along. The day you appeared at the doorway of classroom 116, annoyance settled inside Jake’s body. He was in the middle of a tedious job before you startled him, causing him to clank his glasses together. One wrong move and everything would’ve been ruined.

The sound of the door shutting and a faint call of his name, gains his attention even if he couldn’t make out the view, but he knows someone is there. Probably the chemistry teacher, Mr. Lu? 

No, it can’t be. It is definitely someone unfamiliar. He decides to ignore it and continue pouring the solution into the filled beaker, accidentally clinking the glasses together. Suddenly, files came crashing down onto the floor as if the colliding of the glasses pressed a button for it to happen. 

He sighs and places his test tube back in its place and waits for something else to happen. Another possible distraction. The lights are suddenly turning on, causing him to flinch at the brightness. He only kept them off to focus on the glow of the beaker, clearly that is off the charts now.

Jake turns his head to look at the door, noticing a startled girl. She is focusing on one spot and one spot only—a notebook on a desk near him. With the way her eyes slightly light up, it’s obvious that it is hers. His brows furrows as he watches her take her next steps, then stop in front of the notebook. 

Just a few more seconds and the classroom would be Jake’s once again, meaning he could continue his experiment, yet his future plans are forgotten as her voice fills his head.  She is talking to herself. 

And I’m the scary one? He thinks before he makes his way over to her. His eyes trail over her figure, taking note of the way she grips her wrist, stopping her from grabbing her notebook. What the hell is going on? Is this a prank students set up to get back at him for his reputation?

“Sim Jake,” she whispers, making him pause in his tracks. This has to be a prank. Why else would there be a female student talking to herself, tightly holding her wrist, and whispering his name so suddenly?

“What are you doing?” Jake asks, hoping this would speed things up. This wouldn’t be the first time Geddon Prep had tried something on him before. 

“Please, let me go alive.” She pleads.

Her words leave Jake confused. What was she rambling about? Let her go alive? Why wouldn’t he in the first place? She keeps begging and apologizing, which obviously doesn’t help Jake’s confusion. He stays quiet for a brief moment before giving up on trying to put two and two together.

“What?” Jake questions as his brows meet each other in the middle. This is definitely an original experience.

He lets out a chuckle at the memory that plays in his head where you realize it was you holding onto your wrist all along. A smile even appears on his face as one word crosses his mind.

Cute.

His world pauses as his brows raise and he’s covering his mouth with his hand in utter shock. Did Jake just call you cute? Well, mentally, but still, he did. What spell did you cast on him for him to react in such a certain way? He’s never thought of such a thing in his life, this is all new to him. And yet, you are the cause of it all. 

Sim Jake finds you, a girl he met coincidentally, cute? Does this explain why he’s been missing your presence lately or what?

He swallows hard as he puts everything together in his mind. Maybe it’s because this is the first time someone has ever given him such attention. Maybe everything he feels when he’s close to you isn’t what he really thinks it is.

It can’t be love, not at all, yet Jake still finds himself questioning if this is love. There’s no way one can fall for another within two days of interacting with each other (plus the additional two days he’s been thinking about you). However, it doesn’t make sense.

From what he knows, feelings take time to develop. So, why has his feelings developed way faster than what psychologists have proven them to? Does he really like you as a friend or as something more? Which one is it? 

“Shoot!” You exclaim while searching your belongings. Jiung jumps at your sudden outburst, nearly dropping his cellphone. 

Jiung adjusts his grip on his phone. “What was that for?” He asks, while giving you a weird look. Instead of replying to his question, you continue searching for whatever you lost.

The sight is hectic, startling Sunoo from the doorway. “What are you looking for?” Sunoo asks as he walks into the classroom. He looks over at Jiung after being met with complete silence, but to his dismay, the boy shrugs. He has no clue either.

Three seconds go by of them distracting themselves with Jiung’s phone until you stop your movements.

“I lost it.” Your words gain the attention of the two boys, causing their heads to perk up from Jiung’s phone screen. 

“What did you lose?” Sunoo asks, hoping to receive a response this time. You look at him with a devastated look. 

“My calculator.” You inform the boys. 

“What if Minju took it during your last period yesterday? You have math together, no?” Says Jiung. Maybe he’s right. Quickly, you pull out your phone to send Minju a text, hoping she is the one holding onto your calculator. 

You: Minju, did you accidentally take my calculator yesterday? I can’t find it.

Minju: No, but I’ll check my backpack. One second.

Minju: There’s nothing, sorry. Maybe you left it in the classroom? You should go check, I know Miss keeps lost things at her desk.

You: I will, thank you.

“Nothing,” you say with a hefty sigh. Honestly, the only thing special about that calculator is the fact it’s been in your family for over ten years now. It's almost as if it’s a family heirloom. You feel bad for losing it.

“I surely had it during my last period, however, I couldn’t find it during chemistry when I needed it. I swear I placed it in my backpack too.” You explain while clawing at your scalp, phone dangling from your fingers. The moment it slips through your loose grasp, Sunoo is quick to catch it before it can collide with the table beneath it.

“If you remember packing it into your backpack, what if you took it out during your first period and misplaced it during the whole lesson?” He questions. 

“There’s no way I’d do something so stupid—Wait.” You pause, trying to recall your actions from this morning inside of your chemistry class.

“It’s there isn’t it?” Jiung voice pierces through your thoughts as you hesitate to answer his question. He takes your silence as a yes, and suggests you go there during lunch. It’s a smart plan. You can get your calculator before math too.

“Okay, I will.” You say and take your seat feeling better than before— morerelaxed.

To be honest, when it is time for you to go to classroom 116 during lunch, part of you is hoping that Jake is in there whipping up whatever potions he planned on experimenting today. You haven’t been to your chemistry classroom after school ever since Jake placed the bandage on your finger.

As you make your way down the hallway, you look at your healed finger in silence. Your face begins to heat up at the memory of his hand holding yours as he examined your injury and ran your finger under the running faucet. He was so close that day, hopefully he couldn’t hear your beating heart. If it was loud in your ears, you could only wonder how it was for him.

You try to calm yourself down before entering the classroom. Although you’re 99.9% sure Jake will be nowhere in this room, that 0.1% in you still has some faith in him showing up. 

It’s only the start of lunch, yet your teacher is nowhere to be found, but luckily the door is left unlocked. You enter the classroom and look around the space, for your calculator of course. But you can’t help the way your gaze flickers to the lab benches, hoping you’d catch Jake in the middle of one of his experiments. Unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found.

You’re the only one in the classroom with your calculator resting  on top of your desk. Deja vu washes over you as you make your way to your seat, this time not scared like before. Instead, you’re disappointed at the fact Jake is nowhere in sight.

You sigh while grabbing your calculator off your desk and make your way to the door. The moment your hand touches the doorknob, footsteps sound from further away. 

“(Name)?” 

Quickly, you turn around at the sound of a familiar voice, and to your satisfaction, you’re met with a face you’ve been waiting to see—Sim Jake.

“Jake,” you call from under your breath. Your attention shifts over to the door swinging back and forth behind him. Oh, he was grabbing a lab coat.

“How have you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You say while walking to the lab benches faster than you intend to. Is it that obvious you’re happy to see him?

“It’s been a while because you haven’t come to the classroom after school.” Jake says. “Other than that, I’ve been okay, you?” He proceeds to put on his gloves and adjust them to his liking as a scowl appears on your face.

“I didn’t know if it was okay for me to continue coming here even if I had nothing to pick up.” You explain and he chuckles, a smile plastered on his features. Your heart begins to race at the sight, this time, he doesn’t immediately stop smiling like before. He lets it linger until it falters on its own. 

“It’s not like you can’t come here. Do as you may.” 

You take a seat on the countertop, this time closely investigating anything that could harm you before doing so. A liquid, a tool, anything at all. “Is it not bothersome to you? I feel like I’ll only be a distraction to you.” You say.

“Of course not. I like your presence and talking to you, it’s nice.” Jake puts his goggles on as you swallow thickly. He can’t say something like that so easily, it’s not fair to your heart. Your grasp on the lab bench slightly tightens as you fight away the butterflies that begin to settle in your stomach.

“So, does Mr. Lu allow you to do this often?” You ask, in an attempt to change the topic. If it were to last any longer, you surely wouldn’t.

“Yeah, I’ve managed to build up trust with him over the last few years. Here and there I spend my lunch here, but I’m mostly here everyday after school.” Jake explains while grabbing the equipment he needs for today’s experiment.

You hum in response to his words and nod. Maybe he’s the one Mr. Lu referred to many times in his past lessons—a student who conducts a ton of experiments whenever he can. It sounds like Jake, so it has to be him.

“Hey,” you call, gaining his attention.

“What’s up?” Jake replies.

This has been on your mind for quite a while now. However, what if your question ruins the nice bonding moment between the two of you? There’s no going back if it does.

“You know, the rumors, how do you feel about them?”

Jake tenses for a short moment before continuing his previous movements in preparation for his experiment. Instead of wording a response, he shrugs. 

“I don’t know.” Jake sighs. “They don’t bother me as much as they did before, but I just don’t get them. That’s it.” 

He carefully places the tools down on top of the  lab bench beside where you are sitting as you listen to what he has to say. 

“The only good part about them is the fact people leave me alone.” He adds on.

“That’s it.” Jake looks up at you who looked at him, too caught up in the moment to even realize his eyes on you. Once realization hits you, you’re clearing your throat and looking away, all while trying to suppress any flustered feelings that crawled its way up your neck.

“What about you? Is there anything at school that bothers you?” Jake questions. He doesn’t want everything to be about him. Especially if they’re about the rumors. 

“Not really.” You answer and thumb at the brim of the countertop, grip loosening in the process. Jake figured you were going to say something along those lines. It’s not that he is judging you, he just thought there’s not much that can bother you in Geddon Prep. However, he can’t assume that either.

“Jake,” you call, interrupting his thoughts. He looks over at you, waiting for you to continue on with your sentence.

“You’re nothing like the rumors. You’re very nice and funny even if you don’t try to be. You’re a great guy, seriously.” You compliment him, making it hard for him to remain calm. Once again, Jake sucks at taking compliments. So, in response to your words, he turns away, facing the opposite way from you to hide his soon-to-be blushing expression.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, gaining your attention. Your head turns to face him, taking note of how he faces a different way. However, you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn a subtle shade of red as he speaks. You bite back a smile at this. It’s cute to see him flustered. With the way you’re reacting at this sight and when he gazes at you, there’s no doubt about it. You have surely developed feelings for the boy beside you. 

The next day and many days after that, you continue to appear in classroom 116 after school and sometimes during lunch. You and Jake only become closer and closer, sharing many long chats with one another and funny moments.  

You genuinely don’t know how someone can find Jake scary. He reminds you of a clumsy puppy with how unathletic he is. He’s really smart too, here and there he helps you with your chemistry homework and teaches you lessons you don’t understand. Fortunately, it only makes you fall for him more. 

As for Jake, he’s still conflicted. Although he’s leaning further towards the love side of his dilemma, he doesn’t know if what he thinks is right. You two are obviously friends now which seems like enough for Jake, but he can’t help and get flustered whenever you two are in close contact, you compliment him, or if you two make eye contact. Sometimes when you don’t see each other, he thinks of you (and even misses you). He’s 99% sure friends don’t think this way.

However, other times, for example, right now, those thoughts don’t matter because right now, all he’s feeling is worry and stress. Regret is settling in his system. Why did he agree to do such a thing even with knowing the many possible consequences for his choices?

“Don’t! Touch that.” Jake exclaims, making you halt your movements for the nth time. 

“Jake, at this point, what can I even do?” You say with a sigh and back away from the set up.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just worried you’re going to get hurt or break something. We both know how clumsy you can be.” Says Jake. His words aren’t an insult, yet you can’t help but feel slightly offended by them. 

You remove your goggles and roll your eyes at his words, you hate the fact that he isn’t wrong. Who knows what ruckus you’ll cause? You can’t blame him for his thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do either.

“Fine, you have a point.” You frown and begin walking over to your designated spot on the lab bench. “I’ll just sit down and keep you company.” 

So much for finally getting to help him with one of his experiments. 

“Okay. That works too.” He sighs of relief and reorganizes his station to his liking. He tried teaching you what to do, really, he did, but he feared that you’d get injured immediately and only moved cautiously. With how badly you let your guard down in the past, he doesn’t know what will happen when you’re handling the chemicals yourself.

To keep yourself occupied, you reach into your backpack to find the book your teacher assigned to your English class. It’s for your novel study unit—the worst unit in English. You hate it every year because of the many questionnaires and assignments that come along with it. 

As Jake starts pouring the chemical you previously tried handling, he sneaks a glance at you, noticing the book that rests in your lap. 

“What’s that?” He asks while proceeding with his experiment as usual. 

“Just a book for my English class.” You inform and flip to the last page you read—page fourteen. That isn’t even  close to a dent for a 700-page book. Surely, you're in for a hefty ride.

Jake hums and lets silence fall over the two of you so you can focus. Here and there, he sneaks even more glances at you, noticing the way your expression softens the further you progress through the pages. You look relaxed. A sight that makes Jake’s heart go pit-a-pat (his words). 

He notices the way your brows knit occasionally at some scenes, wondering what you are thinking of when you read the book. You look so focused, it actually makes him smile. Is he creepy for reacting this way? Is this what true feelings are like? Is this really what confirms his feelings for you? 

If he saw anyone else make such a face, he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t even bat an eye at them to begin with, but with you, it’s different. Everything you do and say makes him feel some type of way. He smiles, he laughs, he hides his face the moment you leave the classroom, and fights back the warmth that settles on his cheeks and ears. No ordinary human being does this for someone they don’t feel anything for. It will seem weird if they do. If so, it’s true. Although you’re someone that keeps him on his tippy-toes whenever you’re around, he can’t deny the truth. Jake does indeed like you

Even if he reached a conclusion with his own feelings, the real question is, do you like him back or are you only toying with him? He really hopes it’s the first option and not the second one. Still, he’s unable to say since it’s his first time experiencing such a thing.

“Is there something or someone behind me?” You ask, teasing him with the words he said to you the second day you two met. His brows raise at the realization, he’s been staring at you for quite a while now. To  the point where he even paused his experiment.

What started off as short stolen and somewhat sneaky glances, became pure admiration. Embarrassed, he looks back at his beaker and pours whatever solution that is in his hand to make it seem as though he was busy all along. However his plan fails. Miserably. 

The sudden pop and cloud of smoke that emits from the beaker shocks you both as Jake’s hair blows back from the commotion. 

“Great,” he says under his breath after realizing what two chemicals he mixed with one another. It’s a silly rookie mistake; one that even you would make if he wasn’t in the lab with you.

You let out a laugh from your spot on the countertop as he sends a glare your way. He’s embarrassed enough. Why’d he have to mess up in front of you at such a time? 

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t worry, you look good.” You say and point at the way his hair is all over the place. In haste, he turns away before you can see the change of his expression, and adjusting his hair with his reflection on the window behind him. The way his cheeks become a rosy pink, doesn’t fail to surprise him. Clearly your words are able to make him feel this way.

He definitely likes you.

You drop down from where you previously sat and make your way to Jake. You turn him around with a tap on his arm, then begin to adjust his hair for him. He’s staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks still a faint rosy pink, and ears appearing the same. 

Your eyes are focused on his hair while his eyes are, well, everywhere: your face, your eyes, your lips, your eyes… Your lips. Mainly your eyes, at least, that’s what he likes to believe.

“There.” You say and avert your gaze to his face, to see how everything looks together. Instead, you notice how his eyes are lower than where they should be. They’re on your lips. Who would’ve thought. Jake’s gaze shifts back to your eyes as if nothing had happened, but the act is hard for him to keep up with the way your eyes don’t leave his. 

Jake begins removing his goggles. He hesitates for a brief moment, not wanting to ruin the moment with a question, but his beating heart that rings through his ears silences any negative thoughts he has.

“Can I kiss you?” He questions. Jake never thought he’d utter such words at this point of his life. He’s slightly starting to regret it because of your silence until you nod in response to his question, wasting no time to put your lips onto his. 

“Talk.” 

The slam of Minju’s hands against your desk startles you out of your trance. 

“This is your seventh time spacing out, (Name).” Sunoo says and takes a look at his phone. “It’s only been one minute.” Your jaw drops at his words. There’s no way it has happened that many times within such a short period. 

“What’s wrong with you today?” Jiung questions while taking a bite of his lunch. 

Right now it’s lunch time. See, normally you’d be with Jake in classroom 116, but after yesterday’s incident which you clearly initiated and he only returned, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him. 

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” What a lie.

“That’s like me saying Jiung isn’t a phone addict.” Minju insults the boy and takes a bite of her meal. He nudges her in the shoulder and she rolls her eyes.

She isn’t wrong though, he truly is a phone addict. 

“Fine,” you begin. “I have a secret—more so a confession to make.” Your friends are way more invested than they should be. It’s almost as if this is your first time ever having a crush.

“I like someone.” 

“Knew it,” Sunoo says while holding his hand out to Jiung who devastatingly hands him five bucks. You raise a brow at their trade off, waiting for one of them to explain what is going on.

“We made a bet. Sunoo thought you were acting this way because you like someone, while I thought you were this way because of school.” Jiung explains with a sigh. You don’t blame his devastated state, he is now five dollars broke. 

“Who is it?” Minju asks, ignoring the boys beside her.

“Who is it, you ask?” You let out a nervous laugh. How are you supposed to say that you like (and kissed) Sim Jake to these lunatics?

“Is it Jake?” Minju asks, startling you and your other friends. How did she read right through you that easily? Jiung is quick to exclaim a ‘what’ as Sunoo stops drinking his water midway. 

“Sorry? Did we miss a chapter?” Sunoo questions.

“I swear he’s not as bad as you guys make him out to be. He’s very sweet, helps me with my work when I don’t get something, and makes sure I don’t get injured. You know how clumsy I am.

And we kissed. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to say it. You’re not sure how they’ll react to such information. 

“Wait,” Jiung says. “Maybe he isn’t so bad. You don’t lie, right (Name)?” He questions and you nod in response.

“Hey, I kinda like him.” He adds on.

“Are you trying to get on her good side for more snacks right now?” Sunoo asks while flicking Jiung in the forehead. The boy winces and starts rubbing at the reddening spot.

You look at your food and bite your bottom lip. You want to tell them, you really do, but you’re nervous. On the other hand, Minju is paying attention to your every movement. She knows there’s something else that’s up with you, but maybe she’ll ask later.

Later being now.

You throw out your garbage as footsteps approach from behind you, startling you once they come to a stop.

“(Name).” Minju says as your hand rests at your chest. 

“You gotta stop doing that.” You say. Seriously, one day you’ll have a heart attack because of her. She ignores your words and gets straight to the point. “There’s something else that happened between you and Jake, isn’t there?” 

How does she know?

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your composure.

“You know what I mean.” Minju replies, not having it with your lie.

You hesitate and look at Minju with anticipation. “Fine,” you begin. “We kissed.” You admit with a sigh. She’s shocked but isn’t at the same time. It’s almost like she saw it coming.

“And then?” She asks.

“Then I left?” You say, unsure of what she was hinting at. 

“No confession, nothing?” She’s in disbelief. 

“No…” You say. A word she didn’t want to hear. Minju sighs in disappointment and rubs her temples. You kiss a boy and leave right after. What type of middle school relationship is she hearing about?

“(Name), you like him, yes?” 

You nod at her words hoping that whatever she says next isn’t a bad thing.

“And you two kissed, yes?” 

“Yes.”

“So, confess.” Minju says and you shake your head.

Is she insane? Why would you ever decide to do that? Yeah, you two kissed and whatnot, but there’s no way you’re going to embarrass yourself with a sappy confession just to get rejected. 

Well.

That’s what you thought. 

The last school bell rang five minutes ago. Minju just left you in front of your chemistry classroom where you meet Jake everyday at this exact time. It all happened too fast for you to understand what was going on, but clearly, she isn’t letting you go without a confession. 

You brace yourself for the awkward atmosphere that’s about to attack you the moment you walk through this door. You’re not ready. What if you and Jake stop being whatever this is? What if your confession ruins it all?

You want to go home.

You let out a sigh and walk through the door, catching a glimpse of what seems to be a blur. It's silent in the classroom, almost as if Jake isn’t here at all. 

When in reality, he is. He’s crouching down underneath a lab bench to avoid you. His face is beet red as the moment from yesterday’s lunch replays in his head. This has been happening all day. It’s vividly playing too. He can’t escape any single detail of it.

Jake starts patting his face as he hears your footsteps pick up again, hoping he can recollect himself before he meets your face. The thought of you isn’t helping his case one bit. Even trying to think of anything science-like doesn’t help him either. 

“Jake?” Your voice is close. Too close. He covers his face and looks in the direction it came from, peeking through the slit of his fingers. You seem worried. Why would you be worried?

“Hey.” Jake greets softly. He’s mentally cursing at himself for his lack of volume. He’s such an idiot.

“…Are you okay?” You question and Jake is quick to blurt out a yes before rising up into his standing position. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in vocal ranges as Jake apologizes for the sudden shout.

Silence falls over you two as your fingertips tap on the countertop, preparing yourself to ask your question. This is harder than you thought it would be.

“Can we talk?” 

“Yes please.” Jake replies. He can’t remain like this any longer. It’s best to sort everything out now rather than later. 

“About yesterday’s, you know, kiss.” You start. “What’s your take on it?” 

You patiently wait for Jake’s response. You’re not sure what he’s going to say. Is he disgusted by it? Did he like it? Does he like you? Does he hate you?

“It was nice.” Jake says, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he held onto.

“Same for me.” You reply, nodding in agreement. 

Silence. 

This conversation isn’t going anywhere. You want to get straight to the point, but you’re unsure about how. Isn’t it too sudden to say the three words you want to? What if he reacts in a way you don’t want him to react? There’s too many what if’s and your mind can’t take it anymore.

“(Name).” Jake calls, bringing you back to reality. Your brows perk up at his call, gaining your attention instantly.

His bottom lip gets caught under his teeth as he hesitates. “I like you.” Jake confesses, catching you off guard. “Like a lot. I went back and forth trying to figure out what I think about you, but I figured it out after so long.” He continues.

“You’re pretty—gorgeous even. You’re very kind and funny. You’re the first person to make me feel this way and even give me such attention that I don’t deserve.” 

“I like you a lot.” He repeats. 

You feel your neck warm up as you process everything he said. He likes you? Sim Jake, your crush, likes you back?

“Me too.” You say, vaguely.

“I like you too. I just wasn’t sure how to say it. I didn’t want it to seem too abrupt and make you feel uncomfortable.” You add on to your previous words.

“Yesterday’s kiss, I meant it. Your gentle touches never fail to make me feel flustered, you’re so smart it’s very impressive. The way you look when you get flustered is awfully cute too.” 

“It’s one of my favourite things about you. Your smile too. I love your smile.” You finish off as Jake looks away. With the way his ears turn a bright red like always, you’re not able to miss it anymore. It reminds you of the red lipstick Minju always boasts about ever since she bought it a month ago.

You grin at the sight and give him a hug which forces him to look back at you, even more flustered than before. 

“You’re very warm.” You say, words slightly muffled by his chest.

“Well, I wonder why.” He replies in a sarcastic tone. 

A comforting silence washes over you both, however, it only lasts a few seconds before Jake decides to ruin it with the worst way possible. 

“What do you say, we make a covalent bond?” He jokes, gaining a punch from you on his arm. You wish you could go back five seconds before he said those words.

You grimace. “Get out, that was terrible.”  Jake laughs and slightly backs away from the hug to see your face.

“Okay, okay.” He starts as his laughter dies down. “Then,” Jake pauses and you tilt your head, wondering what he’s going to say next.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jake asks and you nuzzle your face back into his chest to hide your smile and nod. Of course you will.

“Great.” Says Jake with a smile. He places a soft kiss onto the crown of your head, resting there for a moment. 

Perhaps, Jake camping out in classroom 116 like there was no tomorrow happened to be for the better good.

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @himewonu @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy @i03jae @en-dream @firstclassjaylee @sunoo-bby @wensurr @itsactuallylina @r1kification @s0shroe @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ranjupotato @ningizuo @hyunjinslongasslegs @paradiseoflosers @starbyeol1512 @wonzzziezzzz @nickiminajleftasscheek @monniemoody @cheruphic @annybah @rikidaze @zaycie @in-somnias-world @va1entinaa @azzy02 @17ericas @inlovewithningning @hollxe1 @hyukabean

© RIUMORI

[arelyvn]

☆ﾟ.･ ── MAKING PROGRESS ⋆ LHS

You pride yourself upon being perfect, whether its your grades, your hair, your outfit, but most of all—your reputation. so what happens when a single bad grade tilts you off that perfect axis? or rather, the boy introduced into your life because of it..

配对 ࿔ . . lee heeseung 𝔁 𝒻!reader

⌗ content warnings: college au , smut , slight angst , nerd! heeseung , he is into gaming-hes also working on his own game , hes obsessed with toy story (as we know) , hes absolutely pathetic , awkward moments , overthinking , reader is prideful and a little manipulative , corruption kink (ish??) , mentions of drinking (smoking in like one scene), jealousy issues , reader can be mean sometimes , heeseung is a sweetheart but a little gullible ✧ inexperienced hee , hand jobs , big dick hee (nerds are packing) , kinda sub hee , lowkey bulge kink , unprotected sex, pussy eating , face sitting (we’re bringing the freak out) , fingering , overstimulation , heeseung can stay hard after cumming multiple times , featuring: hyung line, sunoo, yunjin , let me know if i missed anything !

⌗ word count: 28.7k (yeah…)

Lee Heeseung was a nerd.

He wasn't unattractive by any means, just…overlooked. Didn't even fully grow into his features until his Senior year of high school. But before that, he was a full on loser, still is honestly.

He was the type of guy who stayed up until 3am coding just because he felt like it. Who had a specific shelf just for Marvel comics, and a separate one for DC, along with an area specifically for his character figure collection. All lined up in his room of the apartment he shared with his bestfriend, Jake–who also shared similar interests, except he tends to be more..normal about it. 

You on the other hand were the complete opposite. Gorgeous, like actually striking. You were popular, at least according to Heeseung you had a “shit ton of friends” he doesn't even know how you remember the names of that many people.  

But the first time Heeseung met you was the first day of classes in fall semester, Econ to be exact. Your low rise jeans paired with a fitted long sleeve. Hair styled perfectly, yet you made it seem effortless. You tend to do that actually, act completely normal without knowing how much of an effect you have on the people around you. 

He had both of his earbuds in, like always–scrolling mindlessly through a twitter thread that was debating on whether League of Legends was a good game or not, spoiler alert it is. Anyone else who differs can argue with the wall. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” You had asked, when he didn't answer the first time you tapped his shoulder once. He remembers the moment his eyes landed on your face vividly, because fuck–you were pretty. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” You repeat, already half annoyed with the fact that this was one of the three seats left in the lecture hall, and you weren't sitting in the front. He looks down at the seat next to him, “Oh no– I mean yes, well not anymore– so no, You can sit, not like I'm forcing you or anything. But uh, it's not taken.”

You nod slowly “Um, Okay..” Before sitting down, your light pink bag hanging from your chair. He now has both of his earbuds out, phone clutched in his hand– because no way was he letting you see that he scrolls through twitter threads for fun.

You look over at him, the way he's sitting up perfectly in his chair, fingers twisting the wire of his earbuds. “Do you always do that?” You ask, eyes trailing along the side of his face. Observing the slope of his nose. “Do..what?” He asks, thankful his voice didn't crack. 

“Talk like your brain is still loading.” He lets out a laugh, “Pretty much everyday.” He says, watching your face for a reaction. You smile, it's small–but he notices it.

He lets out a breath when the professor enters, half relieved, but also half annoyed that he can’t delve deeper into conversation with a pretty girl like you. Even if it is only by convenience. 

You don't miss the looks, you never do. His gaze shifting from the professor discussing things from the syllabus, to you–a literal goddess sitting next to him, as he would say. 

You caught him once, but he thought he was smooth with the quick way he averted his eyes. After that first class he cursed himself for being so damn obvious– God, you probably think he's some perverted freak. Yet you still sat beside him the next day, and the day after that– actually for the rest of the semester.

You didn't talk to him unless it was necessary, like asking him if he wrote down a slide of notes you missed, or that one time you dropped your pen on the ground just under his chair. 

He remembers having to bend down slightly, face nearly in your lap just to pick it up. Forcing himself not to look at your bare legs before handing it back to you.

Your casual smile and “Thanks” before acting completely normal again, like you didn't just make his insides to a full 360 from just a smile– no teeth either! 

When that class ended just before winter break, he couldn't help how disappointed he was. What do you mean he wouldn't be able to see your face anymore?—or smell your vanilla perfume every time you shifted in your seat!

He remembers Jakes roll of his eyes having to hear him talk about what a tragedy it was. “Dude– it's not like you won’t see her again, remember you still go to the same university?” Yeah you attend the same school, but the closest he ever got to you was sitting next to you in that class. Other than that—you wouldn't even look his way. 

“...earth to Heeseung?” Jake's voice cuts through his train of thought, and his line of sight as his eyes stray away from you, laughing and talking with your friends at a table outside. Jake looks back, spotting you through the window of the campus dining haul. “Seriously dude?” Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“What were you saying?” Heeseung asks, taking another bite of his food. “I was saying that I finished episode six of that anime you put me on– man that fight scene was actually crazy, I literally–” He watches Heeseung's eyes stray away from him, landing on you again for like the 10th time in the last 20 minutes.

“Alright there's something seriously wrong with you” Jake says—or more like interrupts. “What? I'm fine.” Heeseung claims defensively, “No– you've been staring in the same direction for the past 20 minutes like a creep. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't felt you looking at her this whole time.” Jake states, “I was not staring at her like a creep–”

“No you definitely were.” 

“Whatever dude, it's not like she’d notice anyway.” Heeseung pokes at his food with the plastic fork. “Yeah, she's too busy being Miss. Perfect..” Jake exaggerates. “She really is perfect, isn't she..” Heeseung says, glancing over at you once again.

Little did they know that was far from the truth, yeah you made sure you at least looked good, but your grades were faltering. Specifically in Physics– and especially with your annoying ass professor. 

“She literally called on me in the middle of class today, I couldn’t even think of an answer which made me look even more stupid than guessing.” You groan, careful not to wipe at the mascara on your eyes. “That's Professor Kim for you.” Yunjin says, taking one of your fruits from your tray. “It was pretty embarrassing.. But the “It's so obvious” comment from her wasn’t necessary.” Sunoo adds with a face. 

“Oh and it gets worse.” You say, looking at the both of them. “You know how she made me stay after class right?” You look at Sunoo who nods, “Yeah, well she full on printed a paper for me to turn into the tutoring center, stating everything I'm struggling with and told me that I was going to need to find help as soon as possible or I was going to fail her class.” You finish in one breath, 

“So, you’re going to have to get a tutor then..” Yunjin clarifies warily, looking down at the paper you place on the table.

“Yeah because apparently my performance in her class is "Concerning" and she even said I was lucky to have this opportunity! You know– I would never hit someone but God her face was really slappable in that moment–” 

Sunoo interrupts before you can go any further, reading off the list of things “Difficulty with free body diagrams, inconsistent use of formulas, lack of problem-solving structure..Damn, she really has it out for you.” He says, putting the paper down.

“I mean half the time she rambles on like she knows something, and her equations all blend together anyway!” You groan in frustration, both Sunoo and Yunjin looking at each other. “I mean.. Maybe tutoring wouldn't be so bad..” Yunjin suggests, sipping her water. “Just give it a chance, it really can’t hurt y/n.” Sunoo adds, “It hurts my ego, my pride– hell, even my reputation.” You snatch the paper back, shoving it in your bag.

“Not everyone is perfect, including you babe.” Yunjin says, trying to be reassuring. “No, but I need to be.” You frown, standing up. “Where are you going–” Sunoo starts

“Turning in this damn tutoring paper to the library. I need to get this over with, like now–before I change my mind.” 

And that's exactly what you did, handing the paper to the woman at the front desk, “You’ll get a message sent when we’ve found your tutor, along with a time and date.” She says, typing on her comically large computer. “Wait, I don't get to choose the day?” You ask, twisting the ring on your finger. 

She looks up at that “No, since it's the tutors time you're using.” She says, looking back down– you almost open your mouth to say something like “My time is just as valuable.” But ultimately decide not to, before smiling and walking away. 

—

“He’s on me—Fuck!” Heeseung yells into his headset, watching as his video game character dies yet again.

“Jake, dude im literally going to lose my rank–what the fuck man.” He says, ripping off his headset, not wanting to hear the excuses his best friend has to give for playing like shit, even if he is right down the hall. 

Heeseung nearly presses the power off button on his monitor before a notification pops up, the loud sound overpowering the faint background music of the video game lobby. 

Gmail: Tutoring Lab Information

Fuck— he had forgotten all about that, signing up to tutor for some extra credits. There goes at least a few hours of trying to level up his rank on League.

He runs a hand through his already messy hair before clicking the notification to expand it.  Reading through it quickly– “We are aware you’ve gotten a 90 or higher in this class–blah blah blah– good choice okay whatever..” Heeseung stills as his eyes land on the next few words.

Selected Student: Y/n L/n

“No fucking way.” He rubs his eyes once—twice, just to make sure he's not seeing things. Then he laughs, disbelieving, because this has to be a typo, there's no actual way you need tutoring.

He scrolls back up in the email– ah, Professor Kim, Physics. Now that makes sense. He scrolls down again, just to re-read your name plastered in bold on his screen. And better yet, your phone number, right underneath it.

He could fall to his knees right now, seriously–Thanking the universe for this spectacular moment. Almost immediately he picks up his phone, fumbling over the disorganized apps–mostly just games, before finding messages. Typing your number in the add on box, he pauses– how the hell does he even go about this. 

“Hey, I know I stared at you all of econ last semester and it was probably totally obvious, oh and also, I still do because it's kind of hard to look away. So now I'm tutoring you–oh and I have a massive crush on you too that makes me feel like a pathetic middle schooler.” 

Yeah absolutely not.

You pick up your phone, drying your wet hair with your towel but pause when the notification slides down at the top. 

Maybe: Lee Heeseung: Hey, I saw that you needed a tutor for Physics. The tutoring lab assigned me to you, does Thursday at 4:00 work for you?

Great, they weren't kidding about how it's on their schedule. But that name—Lee Heeseung. Where do you know it from.. You open the message, typing out a bland reply.

You: Yeah that's fine.

Lee Heeseung: Great, ill see you there

Heeseung re-reads over the message he sent multiple times, maybe he's over thinking it but you sound upset. It’s just words on a screen and he's no empath, so maybe he's just overthinking right? Haha, right?

“Bro—obviously she’s going to be fucking pissed, she literally prides herself upon being perfect. But honestly if it's Professor Kim and her Physics lessons on top of that, I understand why she needs it.” Jake says, handing Heeseung's phone back to him. “I honestly don't even know how you got a 96 in that class either.” He adds. 

“But still, isn’t the universe kind of on my side with this? I mean out of all people– she gets assigned to me.” Heeseung says, looking at the messages one more time. “I dunno’ man, all I have to say is don’t do that weird staring thing.” Jake says, standing up.

“What weird staring thing?” He asks, genuinely confused. “The one where you try to undress someone mentally and physically with your eyes.” Jake states like it's obvious

“I don’t even do that–?” Heeseung says defensively, leaning against his gaming chair. “Yeah alright, just whatever you’re planning, don’t be weird about it.” Jake mutters before walking out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

“I wasn't even going to do anything weird..” Heeseung mumbles under his breath. 

-

“Wait—you said Lee Heeseung?” Sunoo asks, leaning over your phone to get a closer look. “Uh– yeah?” you eye him, turning to Yunjin who looks just as confused.

“He’s literally in my Computer science class, and don’t you remember he was in your econ one last semester?” He adds, raising a brow.

“Wait– the guy who stared at her all the time right?” Yunjin sits up straight, “Yeah, the guy with the nice nose.” Sunoo clarifies, watching the realization dawn.

“No—wait no, this isn't good—no, no, no. Because in that class I acted like some know it all, which I mean it was easy but now I'm going to him for tutoring.” You snatch your phone from Sunoo

“He probably thinks im some like—poser!” Sunoo and Yunjin watch you, “Who cares what he thinks—what are you doing?” Yunjin looks down at your phone “I'm cancelling." 

“No the fuck you’re not.” Sunoo says, taking your phone back. “You know what will happen to your perfect grades if you fail?” He asks, already knowing the answer. “Exactly, plus this guy is smart as hell, trust me.” He sets your phone back down on the table. “Just go y/n, what's the worst that could happen?” Yunjin adds.

Oh, I don’t know, maybe he’ll mansplain everything to me just like every other guy at this university tries to—or worse, make me feel like a complete and utter idiot.

But yet here you are anyway, denim shorts with a fitted top in all your glory since of course, today decided to be the day the cold weather breaks.

You really could be tanning right now, the smell of sunscreen filling your senses, but instead you’re hit with the scent of dry erase markers and stress.

The library door shuts behind you, a few students scattered around, you make your way up to the second floor where the study sessions are held, so it's not as quiet. 

“Oh–hey” he says, looking up at you–maybe trying to stop himself from staring too hard. You shouldn't even be surprised he’s already here, considering he was somehow always earlier than you for Econ last semester. 

You look down at the table he's seated at, notebook already open, pencil spinning between his fingers like he can't keep his hands still for more than five seconds. You hesitate for a second before walking over, “You’re early.” You say, looking at him.

“You’re late.” He says, you check the time on your phone. “It’s 3:58..?” You look down at his outfit, some random graphic tee, with jeans.

“And you were always five minutes early for Econ last semester, so it’s late for you.” He states like it's a fact. “Do you just want me to leave?” You cross your arms, annoyed already. “What–no, sorry. I just–hi.” His Adam's apple visibly bobs up and down as the words spill out. “..Hi.” 

You set your bag on the table, taking the seat next to him–completely normal for a tutoring session. Obviously you pull out your notebook with your failed attempts in copying down Professor Kim's problems from the board.

He doesn't miss the way you act like you’ve done this before, knowing very well you haven't. Mainly because you’re always too stubborn to ask for help.

He tries to ignore the vanilla smell radiating from you. “So, what are we struggling with then?” You exhale, already done with this. “Pretty much everything according to my professor.” He chuckles and you shoot him a glare.

“Sorry–I'm not laughing at you, it’s just– I know how professor Kim gets so I understand.” He clarifies quickly. “But let's try narrowing it down?” He suggests, “Fine.” 

“Okay, show me what you were doing on the last assignment.” You flip your light pink notebook open to the most recent page of what looks like scribbles before facing it towards him. He leans in, shoulder nearly touching yours. 

His hair looks soft…..Why are you thinking about his hair.

He scans the page from top to bottom, really looking– not trying to judge, but trying to understand, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Hm, Alright.” He says, looking at you. “I see what the problem is.” 

You sit up straighter, “Is it that bad?” You ask warily, “No–” He says quickly, reassuringly “It’s not, it’s just the set up.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “The whole page is the set up.” You state defensively.

“Not really,” He runs a hand through his hair, “You’re just starting the wrong way.” He reaches for your pencil—

“May I?” You nod, handing it to him. His fingers brushing yours in the process. He tries to ignore how that made him feel. That small singular touch of your finger– God, maybe he is a loser.

“Okay, let's start simple.” He says, drawing a wonky looking box. You tilt your head, “A box?” you ask curiously. “In physics, everything is a box.” He says casually, you let out a huff of a laugh despite the situation. 

He glances up, eyes falling to your mouth briefly before turning back to the page. He swallows once again. “Now the way Professor Kim does it, she assumes everyone just gets it– but I would say to not start with an equation.”

He goes on, looking at you once to make sure you’re paying attention. And you are, because you really do need this.

“These arrows–” he says, attempting to draw some “Are the forces acting on it.” You nod, “So.. I would draw this every time instead.” You ask, trying to understand. He nods, “Yup. It pretty much tells you what's happening before you try to solve it.” 

“No one’s ever really explained it that way..” you mutter under your breath, “Like I said, she thinks everyone just automatically understands the bs’ she writes on the board.” He shrugs

“Yeah well, some of us don't." He leans back, watching you look over the page. “Hey, that’s why we’re here y/n.” You turn to look at him, eyes roaming over his face in the way a pretty girl like you can, no questions asked. 

“Okay then,” You lean closer, “Do another one.” His eyebrows lift slightly at that “Bossy.” He notes outloud, “Get used to it,” You say with a smile, he huffs out a breath of amusement before flipping onto the next page, setting up another problem–leaning over a bit closer than necessary, but you don’t pull back.

-

“Okay so…what— you were flirting with him?” Sunoo asks, laying against the headboard of your bed.

“I mean, not like ‘I want you so bad’ flirting but kind of..?” You bite your lip in thought, holding another outfit up to your body, earning two head shakes from both Sunoo and Yunjin. 

“He gets nervous so quickly, it's kind of cute.” You say, roaming through your closet. “I said he was a good teacher and his ears got all red” You try not to laugh at the memory. 

“So, do you like him or something..?” Yunjin asks, scrolling on her phone. “What– no. I mean he’s like fun to tease and stuff.” You chuckle awkwardly, toying with the hem of a black halter top.

Sunoo raises a brow at that, “Is this one of your superior complex things, except this time it's the loser-nerd who's never felt the touch of a woman?” 

You throw the top in his direction “Sunoo!” Yunjin laughs, sitting up. “It’s just–none of the guys here actually like show it. You know what I mean? They try to be all nonchalant and stuff, but Heeseung– I don’t know, he's different.” You say, sitting on the bed beside Sunoo. 

“So like he’s an ego booster then?” you shoot Yunjin a glare “Well no–I just like how different his attention feels.” You murmur, picking up the halter top beside Sunoo and holding it up to you. The nod from both of them brings a smile to your face.

“Just be careful y/n.” Sunoo looks at you, “What? Is he one of those undercover playboys or something–” You say through a laugh

“No–God, definitely not. It’s just.. you don’t always realize the effect you have on people, and I don’t think he’d take it lightly..” You let out a quiet laugh, “Come on, he doesn't like me that much.” You say before standing up to find a skirt that would work perfectly with your top. You ignore the “Right..” that leaves his lips.

You were far from wrong though–because no, he likes you even more. Probably too much for yesterday evening being the first time he’s actually had a full conversation with you, even if it was for school.

“I mean that has to be flirting right?” Heeseung asks, completely distracted from the code he's almost done completing for this class. “Isn’t flirting like her second language though?” Jake questions, cursing under his breath when his code doesn't run smoothly. 

“What—no, right? She doesn't flirt with everyone.” Heeseung says, trying to convince Jake, or maybe even himself. “I dunno’ dude she has one of those personalities.” 

“Are you saying I'm reading into it too much?” Heeseung asks, fingers fidgeting with the string of his hoodie. “I just never see girls like that actually going for well— you know..” Jake starts “What? Guys like me?” Heeseung finishes, running a hand through his already messy hair. Jake opens his mouth to speak again but closes it—“Hey, Heeseung?” The feminine voice cutting through there conversation, drawing both of their attention.

“Oh hey, what's up Clair?” He says casually, “Are you guys doing anything tonight?” She asks, biting her lip nervously, “Shit– we have that league ranked thing–” Jake kicks his foot under the desk,

“No! We’re not!” Jake says cheerfully, practically beaming, earning a side eye from Heeseung. 

“Oh– Okay, cool.. Well there's this party, apparently everyone's going. Are you guys gonna be there?” she asks, specifically looking at Heeseung “I don't really do parties–” 

“Ow!” Heeseung seethes when Jake kicks his leg again. “Yeah, we'll be there!” Jake says through a smile

“Okay, I can text you guys the details!” She gives a small wave before walking back to her seat on the far end of the class. “What the fuck dude?” Heeseung whisper-yells. 

“See now that was flirting, and do you even remember the last time you went to a party– let alone got invited to one by a girl.” Jake says through a hushed whisper “Yeah and there's a reason I haven't been to one since.” Heeseung replies through the same tone. 

Jake tries not to laugh at the memory, “Yeah well, plus Clair is totally hot, and she was definitely making ‘fuck me’ eyes at you.” Jake shrugs, leaning back in the uncomfortably hard computer lab chair. 

“Those definitely werent ‘fuck me’ eyes, and I only have eyes for one girl anyway.” Heeseung says proudly. “Whatever, we're still going.” Jake says, focusing back on his code.

Heeseung chuckles before doing the same, knowing damn well he's going to end up playing League in his room for hours on end–just like every other night where he doesn't have a shit ton of work to do.

“Im still not going–” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes as Jake walks into his room and flops on the edge of his bed.

“Dude– come on. You’ve quite literally been in your room every free chance you get.” He sits up, “I mean, how can you expect a girl like y/n to actually like you when all you do is rot in that fucking gaming chair?”

Heeseung side eyes him before continuing to scroll on his phone– “I really don’t care, frankly those frat parties aren't even enjoyable unless you’re drunk—nevermind we’re going.” 

Jake opens his mouth to make a point but closes it when he realizes what words just came out. “Wait, what?” 

“I said we’re going.” Heeseung says, looking down at your instagram story where you’re very much going to said party.

He turns the phone to Jake with a smirk on his face. “I mean you said it yourself, she won’t want someone who rots in a gaming chair right?” 

“Okay but what the hell are you even going to say to her? Oh hey it’s me your tutor, yeah just came here to stare at you the whole time with club soda in my solo cup.” Jake mocks, standing up.

“No, I'm actually going to talk to her. I did kind of fine when we were at the library, what could even go wrong?” Heeseung shrugs, slipping on his converse. 

“Well first of all, you’re not wearing a fucking toy story 2 shirt.” Jake says, looking down at his outfit.

“What's wrong with Toy story 2?” Heeseung mumbles, “I know for a fact that it’s not getting you any pussy.” Jake says, standing up and tossing him some jeans and a red band shirt instead.

“What would you know about getting pussy?” Heeseung says through a laugh. “Definently more than you.”

Heeseung raises a brow at that “Are you saying you’ve been getting some?” Jake holds back a laugh, “Just put the damn clothes on.” He chuckles before walking out. 

-

The second he walks in the smell of alcohol, sweat mixed with sweet perfume and probably smoke hits his senses.

The speakers blaring some overrated rap song too loud. It's not surprising that the place is packed either. He already regrets coming. “Nope–this was definitely a mistake.” Jake laughs “Dude you literally insisted on us going.”

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, which was sort of styled a few minutes prior. “I changed my mind, it's not worth it.” Jake smirks, “You weren't saying that when you saw her post.” 

He doesn't respond, instead letting his eyes scan the room– until they land on you. Black halter top, probably too short jean skirt, laughing, talking– smiling at the people around you like they're actually worth your time.

You look like you belong here, “Yeah.. you’re definitely not talking to her.” Jake says, pulling him from his thoughts, “I am.” He raises a brow, “You’re going to overthink it and want to leave.” Jake says, eyeing him.

Heeseung lets out a breath, scanning the surfaces around him before picking up a drink. “Liquid courage, right?” He smiles weakly before downing the contents inside of it, immediately regretting it with the burn that travels down his throat, he grimaces before drinking the rest, letting it settle. 

“Well damn.” Jake says, grabbing a drink for himself. “It's fine, everything is fine– I can talk to her, I mean look how she’s talking to everyone else–” before he can continue over thinking, he starts walking towards the end of the house you’re at, he's barely across when– 

“Heeseung, You came!” He stops, Clair, standing right in front of him, smiling like she’s actually happy to see him. “Yeah–” He says, “I honestly didn't think you were going to, you seemed like you were gonna say no.” she laughs. 

“I was just– considering it.” Heeseung says quickly, “Mmm, well I'm glad you came.” She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Stepping closer into his personal bubble, like this is normal. “Are you having fun?” He looks around, eyes landing on you for a split second, mid laugh. God– you’re so pretty when you laugh.

“Yeah, it's uh–great.” Jake chokes out a laugh behind him, a smile spreads across Clair’s face “You don’t have to lie” He sighs “Im trying” 

“You don’t have to, you can just hang out with me. I’ll make it better.” She says easily, Heeseung glances at you one more time before looking down at Clair, “Yeah—that would help.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

And that's when you spot him, freezing mid conversation with a few guys, leaning into Sunoo. “Is that who I fucking think it is?” His eyes follow yours to exactly who you’re looking at. 

Lee Heeseung, at a party. “How much did I drink–” Sunoo says, looking at the cup in his hand. “I thought he was one of those losers who never even left the house?” You whisper to Sunoo, “Yeah I thought so too–” Your eyes trail down the girl talking to him, her body language clearly indicating she has some sort of attraction to him. 

“Do you even know that girl?” You ask Sunoo who shakes his head. You down the rest of your drink before setting it down on some random side table. “Um–what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, looking you up and down. “Im…saying hi.” You smile sweetly. Bullshit.

He sighs, “I can’t stop you.” You fix your hair in the mirror behind him quickly before confidently making your way over.

“Wow.” You say, the girl's eyes land on you, Heeseung turns to look at you. First thing his eyes land on is your face, lips, and just for a split second, your chest—which you don’t miss. Your expression isn't easy to decipher, “Who knew Lee Heeseung was a party person.” 

“I'm not—” He replies quickly, “Oh, really?” You look behind him at the girl. “Could’ve fooled me.” She smiles politely “Hi, Im Clair–” 

“Yeah, hi.” You say, already focused back on him. “I didn't know you came to things like this.” You look him up and down, he swallows underneath your stare

“I mean—I don't usually.” Jake tries to hold a laugh at the interaction he's watching from a few feet away. “Made an exception though, right?” 

Yeah it was actually, you.

But the way you say it– there's something underneath your tone. Maybe he's reading into it too much like he does with everything else.  “Yeah,” He says slowly, your eyes fall on this Clair girl again, then back to him– making it known you were looking just to see the nervous look on his face.

He has no clue why he's even nervous. Actually that's a lie, it’s completely your fault he's like this. “Are you having fun then?” You step closer, friendly—but there's something else in your eyes.

Maybe it's the alcohol,  whatever he drank out of that cup is probably making him see things..right? “I just got here.” You hum in response, unconvinced. 

The girl beside him decides to open her mouth, voice annoyingly high. “We were just–” You cut her off “Oh, I'm sure you were.” You don’t bother looking at her, eyes trained on the boy before you instead. Would it be wrong to say you’re enjoying this?

He swallows, Adams' apple visibly bobbing, “..am I doing something wrong?” He asks, genuinely. You laugh, almost surprised at the question “No, why do you think that?” You tilt your head, doing that thing that usually makes guys swoon. “Because you’re–” He stops himself, looking back at Clair “Never mind.” 

You watch him for a second longer, the way he shifts on his feet like your stare affects him too much. You smile— that sweet, almost performative one. “Have fun,” You say before turning and walking away, leaving him confused, and definitely even more curious. 

Jake comes up beside him, clapping him on the shoulder “Okay, so that was actually fucking insane.” He says through a chuckle “..shut up.” Heeseung mutters. “She was so jealous.” Jake smirks, “She was not–” Heeseung starts.

“She definitely was, and you’re blind if you don’t see it—which you should considering your obsession with her.” Heeseung looks past his shoulder in the direction you walked in.

“I’ll be right back” Jake grabs his arm “Uh no– you’re not about to leave the girl who very clearly likes you.” He says, nodding towards Clair who's now talking to one of her friends. Heeseung pulls his arm away “I'm not leaving anyone.” Jake sighs “You kinda are.” 

“I just– I need to talk to her.” Heeseung bites his lip in thought, Jake pauses before a small grin spreads on his face

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Before he can say anything else, Heeseung is already moving after you. Not even sure what’s going to come out– but he needs to know what the actual fuck just happened.

“Y/n–” You turn, trying to hide your knowing smile as Heeseung approaches you, just like you anticipated. “Oh? What happened to your friend?” You ask, looking behind him briefly. “I mean—you kind of scared her off..” He swallows when you tilt your head “Not that you meant to or anything, I'm not saying that was your intention..” 

It definitely was, but okay.

“..or anything, it’s just–what was that?” He asks, your eyes scan over his face before falling to his mouth for a split second– almost unnoticeable. “What was what?” You ask cluelessly.

“I don’t know y/n, that whole..,thing–” You tilt your head “I was just saying hi? Should I have not?” You ask, he swallows at the way you bat your eyelashes at him.

“No– of course not, I mean I'm glad you did.” You step closer, he doesn't step back. “Really?”

He nods too quickly.

“Hm, cute.” You mumble almost to yourself, watching his face. “You should probably go back to your little friend though, Chloe was it?” You look back, where that girl from earlier keeps glancing at him every few seconds by the makeshift bar. “Clair.” He clears his throat. 

Oh? Name correction, interesting. 

“Yeah, Clair.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, Heeseung, you know– for tutoring.” You smile one more time before turning and walking back to your friends, Heeseung just stands there for a moment, trying to process—probably too hard. 

But the way you said it, actually the way you said everything.. He watches you for a split second longer, his eyes can’t help but fall to the sway of your hips especially in that skirt. He turns, walking back to Chloe– or Clair, whatever–he can’t even think straight anymore. 

“So what the fuck was that?” Yunjin asks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” You shrug, taking the cup she offers from her hand and sipping whatever is in it, Sunoo chuckles beside her– unconvinced. She gives you a look, "I'm just having fun” You say through a laugh, they both roll their eyes, even more unconvinced than before. 

-

You’re late, for real this time. Seven minutes to be exact, not that he’s counting or anything. He’s just been reviewing the material from the practice test you sent him via messages, with the words “Im so failing this class :(“ written underneath.

He remembers letting a laugh slip before replying with a “You’ll understand it after Thursday, don’t worry.” 

And now he’s watching as you approach the same table from last week, sunglasses perched on top of your head, Jeans low on your hips, tank top tight on your figure–you would say it’s necessary for the warm weather, but also what’s wrong with provoking a reaction from your totally cute tutor?

“Y/n–” You settle for the seat across from him with a smile on your face. “Heeseung,” You say, pulling out your notebook from your bag. His eyes drop to your lips, the pinkish gloss coating them. 

He clears his throat before looking back down at his own notebook, “Right– so I actually looked over the problems you sent me–” He starts, you tilt your head. “Wait, you actually went over those.” He pauses, looking at you again 

“Well, yeah..” He chuckles like it was supposed to be obvious “..It's kind of my job– I mean, as your tutor. I'm here to help you pass.” His lip quirks up, a ghost of a smile coating his face. Job, huh? “Hm, I see.”

He continues “So I re-did the equations but in a way I think you’d understand better.” He flips the notebook towards you, trying to ignore the way you lean forward, giving him a very clear view of what color your bra is.

Your eyebrow lifts, “Is this just dumbed down?” His eyes widen for a split second “What–No, of course not. This just helps people understand better–Trust me I know you’re not dumb, actually you’re really smart.” 

You can’t help the smile that slips at his urgency to clear those thoughts from your head, “Actually smart?” You look down at the paper again

“Were you not expecting me to be smart or something?” Something close to panic flashes across his features, pride across yours.

Maybe you are enjoying this too much.

“Of course not..” He swallows, slightly avoiding your lingering gaze, his ears turning a shade of pink. “..Well, actually I wasn’t– it’s just, you’re really popular and social and stuff–like parties every weekend. And you’re really pretty.” You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid smiling. 

“Not that pretty people can’t be smart of course, because you definitely are– like really pretty.” His face is a shade of red now, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry, I know I talk too much, I’m not trying to be rude, or creepy or anything like that.” He shifts in his seat, your silence making his heart race even faster. “I don’t think it's creepy.” You shrug casually. “It’s actually kind of cute.” Your eyes drop to his nose, then to his lips–

“Um–thanks..?” You hum in response, looking back down at his notebook, his eyes follow yours “Right, um– we should definitely get started.”

“Okay, see, 87% is not bad at all, you’re doing good,” His eyes locked on your computer screen, scrolling through the results of your 2nd attempt at the practice test for your exam. You roll your eyes,

“I seriously don’t know how many more of these stupid tests I can do, and I don't need an 87, I need a 100.” He bites his lip in thought “No, you need to stop being hard on yourself.” You look up at him, slightly surprised with his determined tone.

“You're smart, it’s normal to not understand the material the second you see it. It takes practice–I understand you want it to be perfect, trust me, I'm the same way.” 

“Okay then, I want to do it again.” He nods, restarting it and turning the computer towards you. “Im patient.” He says, watching the concern glint over your face. You no longer struggle to ask him a question when you need help on a problem like you did the first time you took the practice test, he smiles and nods every time you ask too. 

“92.” You say, looking down at the score on your computer. “Not bad at all, your brain is starting to recognize the material.” He states, “Ugh, Why can’t you just be there beside me when I take the exam..” You frown. 

“Trust me, if I could, I would.” He says through a chuckle. When your frown remains on your face, he speaks up again “Look, If you need me too– I’d be more than happy to look over the notes she gave you, I can try and summarize it and send a video explaining it.” 

“You’d really do that for me?” You ask, sitting up straighter. “It’s my goal to help you pass y/n, and of course I’d do it for you– how could I not..” He goes on “You're pretty irresistible honestly, it’s kind of hard to say no to someone like you. But I’d do it willingly of course.”

He swallows at the way your leg grazes his under the table, the touch burning even through his jeans. “That’s really sweet Heeseung..”

“Yeah– of  course, anything for you,” Your mouth twitches, shy of a smirk. 

“Anything for me?” You ask, your foot tracing his calf over his jeans. He nods, trying so– so hard to ignore the heat that courses through him at your touch, fuck– why did he have to wear these jeans today. 

Please go down, please, please..

“Are you okay Heeseung?” you tilt your head, almost genuine concern in your eyes. “Yeah um, I just–” He checks the time on his phone, “I kind of have to get going, it's a– coding thing.” He picks up his notebook, shoving it inside of his bag, standing up abruptly. Praying that you don’t look down. “I’ll send you that video, bye!” 

You try not to laugh at the way he can’t even make direct eye contact with you, because the second he stands up your eyes fall to the bulge in his jeans. This time you swallow because either you’re really tired or Lee Heeseung might be... Big? 

“Heeseung,” You call out before he can go around the corner, he turns, “Thanks for your help.” You smile innocently, like you’re not the very reason he has to leave so abruptly to get rid of his raging hard on.

He nods before turning the corner. You take your time packing up your stuff, not even aware of the small smile that coats your face, which hasn’t disappeared. 

-

He has to be reading into it too much, because that's something he's good at; overanalyzing, coming to insane conclusions…There’s no way you might actually like him back? Right? No he has to be going crazy.

He looks down at the messages on his phone one more time.

Heeseung: [video attachment] 

Heeseung: i went over the notes and tried to explain them better for you in this, let me know if it helps

You: oh my gosh?

You: Thank you so much Heeseung this is insane

Heeseung: of course, im just happy I can help you

You: I feel kind of bad though.. :( 

Heeseung: why would you feel bad?

You: you’re doing all this for me and I haven't really done much in return.. with the tutoring lessons being free and all

Heeseung: please don’t worry about it y/n

Heeseung: If anything you’re helping me 

You: ughh

You: I still feel bad..

You: how about this, if I pass my exam on Thursday, instead of tutoring me you can come to my place so we can celebrate! :)

He's been staring at the message for the past five minutes, part of him debating going to Jake and asking for advice, but something about this feels different? Like a shared secret between the two of you.

Heeseung: I’d love to

Heeseung: do you want me to bring some food over then?

You: No silly, im going to cook

Heeseung: wait you can cook?

You: a pretty girl whos smart and can cook, are you shocked? :0

Heeseung: thats not what I meant

Heeseung: Sorry 

Heeseung: I'm sure you can cook

Heeseung: whatever you make is probably amazing

You: Im just teasing you Hee

You: ill see you around mk?

Oh my God, you’re going to kill him, like actually kill him. Sure it's just messages but something about you giving him a nickname like that– yeah his heart definitely just stopped for a second. Fuck— Jake's right, he is pathetic. 

Heeseung: yeah sorry again

Heeseung: I'll see you

He cringes looking down at the part where he actually stumbled over his words on fucking i-messages, turning off his phone before he can do anything else stupid. 

“..and why are you smiling at your phone like that?” Yunjin asks, raising her brow while painting her nails. “What? I'm not smiling.” You say, putting your phone face down on her bed.

“Nope, you definitely were– like cheesing ear to ear.” She adds, blowing on her nails to dry them. 

“Let me guess, Heeseung?” She says, teasing glint in her eyes. “Uh–no, what? Why would you think it's him? He’s like just my tutor, and plus he's a total nerd, and a loser.” She blinks once, then she laughs. “W-why are you laughing?” You ask, sitting up in her bed.

“You like him don’t you? Like actually–” She starts, “No! I don’t– why would I like him? No–” You stammer over your words.

“Calm down, I'm not hating on you for it or anything, I honestly just thought you were giving him the time of day because of how down bad he is for you, you know?” She watches you closely

“I'm serious, I thought you just liked teasing him at first, but no– you genuinely like Lee Heeseung–” 

You stand up to put your hand over her mouth, “My nails!–” She says through a laugh, “Do not finish that sentence–” You say, trying to cover your own smiling face with a serious one, failing miserably. “Fine, fine.” She says, hands raised innocently, checking to make sure her nails are still good. You roll your eyes, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Just be careful y/n, okay?” you pick up your phone, nodding “Yeah, yeah whatever.” You say through a small laugh.

-

Your fingers are literally crossed under the table as Professor Kim hands out the graded exam papers. You bite your lip as she comes closer to you, she looks down at the paper than at you before smiling.

“Good job Y/n, I'm glad to see the tutoring is helping.” She says before placing the paper on the table. 

96%.

You’re seeing things right, because Professor Kim doesn't just hand out A+ grades like that.

The first thing that comes to your mind; Heeseung. You’re thankful when she ends her lecture early. 

You remember going to the computer science building a few times when you and Sunoo met up after his class, and obviously now you know that Heeseung happens to have the same class, why not surprise him, he’s obviously going to be proud!

“Y/n?” Sunoo questions, walking out of the computer lab, mint green bag hung on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through a chuckle. “Is uh.. Heeseung in there?” He raises a brow “Yeah.. pretty sure he’s staying for some club meeting– Gaming development or something.”

You nearly laugh, because of course someone like him would be in a fucking Gaming Developemnt club. You peek behind him to get a look inside the lab, “I’ll see you later Sunoo,” he shakes his head before disappearing down the hall

You open the door to the lab and spot the back of his head immediately, even if it is covered in a grey beanie.

Your eyes drift to the left side of him. Fucking hell. Can this girl not catch a hint? You don’t even care about the heads turning as you make your way further into the room. Surprised that a girl like you is walking into the middle of a club like this. 

“You definitely know a lot about this stuff, Heeseung, it’s really impressive–” Clair starts, but stops when Heeseung's eyes drift to you, a slightly shocked expression on his face “Y/n– what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes. 

“Everyone keeps asking me that.” You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way his friends' eyes switch to you and Heeseung like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“I have something to show you.” You say, not even caring how it sounds. “We were busy working on something and this is a private club meeting actually, so im not sure how you even–” Clair starts, tone clearly bitter. 

“Okay well good thing it’s only for him to see, and not you.” You interrupt, finally look at her.

“You’re not even supposed to be in here though–” Her hand leaves the back of Heeseung's chair as he stands up. “It’s fine, I can talk to her outside if I have to,” he says, moving past Clair, you tilt your head sweetly at her before walking with Heeseung out into the hallway. 

“Okay Y/n, what–” You pull out the folded paper from your bag, biting your lip eagerly.

“Go on, open it.” You say, he looks at you, eyes falling to your lips before opening the paper. “Holy shit—96?” He exclaims, a smile coming to his face almost immediately. You nod, humming in response

“I knew you could do it, and I mean… this is a lot, even for Professor Kim, god—you’re amazing.” He says looking down at the paper. “It’s because of your help y’know” You say, stepping closer.

His eyes flick up to yours, “I mean—it was really all you, truly. I just helped a little–” He says, chuckling. “We’re still on for tonight though, right? I still have to repay you for helping me” You smile sweetly. “Repay me?” He asks, eyes falling to your low cut top for a split second—almost unnoticeable.

“Yeah, I'm cooking too, remember?” You bring your hand up, picking at an invisible piece of lint from the collar of his shirt. Thank God he wore a beanie today, or else you would have seen the embarrassing shade of pink his ears just turned.

“You really don’t have to do that for me y/n– seeing your score was honestly rewarding enough, truly—I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do something for me..” he says, hand coming up to the back of his neck. “I know, but I want to. So let me,”

“Okay– but seriously if you change your mind–” 

“I won’t, Hee,” You say through a laugh, the nickname shoots heat straight through him “I’ll see you later m’kay?” You smile, feigning innocence. 

You stand up on your tip toes to press a small kiss to his cheek before giving him one last wave “Bye Hee,”

He presses his hand to his cheek, why is he burning up right now? No way that actually just happened–

He makes his way back into the computer lab, mind still replaying the interaction over and over again, the softness of your lips– hell, even the way you were looking at him. Jake shoots him a side eye 

“Dude, are you good?” He asks, trying to hold in a laugh. “What—huh?” Heeseung questions, fixing his beanie. “You look a little.. Flushed.” He says through a smirk, eyeing the light pink gloss mark on the side of his face.

“Im not flushed–” Jake points to the mark on his face, making Heeseung touch his own.

He turns an even more embarrassing shade at the light pink glossy residue coating his finger tips, earning a laugh from his best friend,

-

So what if you made sure to clean up extra good before he came over, and it’s not like he's going to even know you looked up a recipe online for how to make pasta. At least it tastes decent.

You bite your lip anxiously, fixing your hair in the reflection of your microwave before moving to open the door for Heeseung. 

“I know what you’re going to say– but I figured we could fit some studying in..” He says, watching as you chuckle before inviting him in and closing the door behind him.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised” You say through a laugh. He takes off his shoes, something he's always done growing up. He looks around your apartment, the light pink walls that you managed to convince your landlord to let you paint, everything is very you.

A faint sweet smell lingering in the air, slightly clashing with the rich scent of the pasta you made. His eyes fall to the pan, “Wow– it looks..” “Edible?” You finish, eyebrow raised.

He laughs, “I was going to say amazing” He gives you a look as if to ask if he can put his bag down, “Make yourself comfortable Hee, I don’t bite” You smile as he places his bag down on your couch.

He walks back over to the kitchen, watching as you grab two plates from the upper cabinet. “Let me help you,” He says, taking the plate from you. “Heeseung, I'm the one who invited you–” You say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine”

You place the plates on the center table in the small living room. He tries so, so hard to not let his eyes wander but you make it hard for them not too. 

“..want a drink?”

“Huh?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. “I was asking if you wanted a drink” You say through a laugh, placing two glasses on the counter. “Oh– yeah, thanks” He says, sipping the dark red wine yunjin got you for your birthday last year.

“Good right?” You ask, tilting your head. “I don’t really drink much but anything you’d give me is good,” He pauses “Like any food– or drink” You chuckle

“I know, just try the food,” You say, sitting down on the couch beside him. He takes the first bite, slight surprise washing over his features before he looks at you.

Your eyes are curious watching for his reaction. “That's– that's really good y/n” He says, taking another bite. You smile proudly before doing the same. 

You two have been there for a while, glasses empty. Too lazy to get up for a refill—“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him stand up.

“I meant what I said about extra practice–” He grabs his bag “You cannot be serious right now Hee.” 

That nickname again, the one that makes him feel things he probably shouldn't from just words. But he needs to do something, anything to take his mind off the fact that he's here alone, with a pretty girl like you..studying is obviously the only ethical option. 

He grabs the notebook from his bag, along with his laptop. “Im very serious, isn’t your next exam coming up soon?” He asks, opening his laptop and sitting on the couch.

“In like a month..” You say, rolling your eyes and settling next to him. He swallows at how close the proximity is, you’re just so warm next to him. 

“All you do is help me study.. I still feel bad about it, and now we're about to do it again.” You frown, and he finally turns to look at you.

Regrets it immediately, because his eyes drop to the way you push your breasts together almost unnoticeably before flicking back up to yours. “I already said, it's my job and–” You shut the laptop. 

“A job you don’t even get anything for.” You say, sliding the laptop off his lap and onto the coffee table. “Its really the credits– I also like helping you, even though you’re already pretty smart, I really don’t mind–” He continues on.

“Fine–” You say, leaning back against the couch. “Okay—yeah, perfect, it makes me feel better if we’re ahead anyway.” He says with a smile. 

For the past 30 minutes, everything has been going in one ear and out the other, because hearing about physics sure as hell wasn't how you were planning to thank him tonight.

“..and that's how you get from point A to point B in this equation–” 

“Heeseung.” You interrupt, he stops explaining, pencil hovering over the notebook, turning to look at you. “I can start from the beginning, I don’t mind–” 

“No, God– no, I’m just..” You look down at the paper, “I don’t wanna study anymore.” He puts the pencil down, “But the extra practice is good–” You lean in closer, probably too close, 

“Studying is all we do, I invited you here so we could take a break from that, you know? Celebrate where that studying got us, and properly thank you.” He looks at you with wide eyes when you face him on the couch, legs curled beneath you. 

“I though the uh, I thought the food was the thank you..” you spot the small bead of sweat near his eyebrow and nearly laugh. “Do I make you nervous or something?” You ask, his ears turn that pathetic shade of pink.

He nods, “Y-yeah.” Unable to even form a proper lie or excuse for the way his skin is probably burning with anticipation. “Why?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.

“Well I mean– how could I not, you’re really pretty, and really intimidating..” He pauses

“..I didn’t even think it was possible for a girl like you to be into someone like me– not saying that you’re into me or anything, I wouldn't object to you being into me obviously, I mean I'm clearly in you– I mean, into you. It’s hard not to be honestly—” You watch the way his mouth moves before his brain processes what he's saying.

“—I was hoping it wasn’t obvious, is it obvious? Okay now im just rambling im sorry, I can’t help it– you just make me really nervous” He's breathing hard now, sitting up completely straight.

“Cute.” You smile, watching the confusion on his face. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think you have a crush on me.” You scoot closer, probably invading his personal space.

As if he’d complain.

“Do you have a crush on me, Lee Heeseung?” Your eyes fall to his lips “I– well.. No?…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart

“…sorry, that's a lie. I mean, How could I not.. I like– I like you, which is probably not professional for a tutor and student relationship but I–” You shut him up immediately when your lips press against his.

Your lips are soft, when you pull back a few seconds later his tongue darts out to lick his own lips, the faint strawberry taste of your lipgloss remaining, his expression is almost comedic.

He doesn't think twice before closing the distance again, needing to feel your lips on his, you let out a sound into his mouth, your hand trailing up to rest on his shoulder, he grips your waist, tugging you closer. 

You swing your leg over his, allowing you to straddle his lap, deepening the kiss further, you wrap your hands around his neck, tangling your hands in his hair, a light tug making him groan into your mouth pathetically.

His hands are unsure at your hips, still in shock that he’s actually here right now, in your home, touching you– kissing you. When you slip your tongue in his mouth, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, you roll them softly and his breath hitches. 

“P-please do that again..” he breathes out, looking down when you roll your hips again, you feel him growing hard, demanding beneath you—and undoubtedly big. “Touch me Hee–” You whisper, nipping at his bottom lip.

One hand slips under your shirt, feeling the softness of your back, the other trailing down to rest on your ass gently, offering a squeeze. 

“Like this?” He asks, voice rough—needy. “Mhm” You nod, rolling your hips forward against his, he thrusts up once from the friction,

“S-shit– sorry, I'm sorry–” You lower your lips, kissing just below his jaw, "Don’t apologize" This time when you grind against him, he reciprocates it, the hard line of his cock grinding perfectly between your legs.

“You’re so pretty” He mumbles, both hands cupping your ass through your pants, you smile against his neck before pressing one more delicate kiss to his jaw.

When your lips leave his skin a sound breaks from him. “What–” He watches as you slide off his lap.

“I wanna suck you off.” You say bluntly, his heart beat picks up even faster than before. 

His hands sit awkwardly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do– which quite frankly, he doesn't. You lick your lips before reaching for his jeans. Heeseung stops your hand, gripping onto your wrist.

“Wait” You pause, looking up at him. “I just want to make it clear that uh– this..” he looks down at the very visible bulge in his jeans. “..this isn’t why I came here– you don’t have to..” You rest your hand on his thigh. 

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” You clarify. He bites down on his lip, his cock aching to be set free from its confinement. “I wanna repay you, like I said.” You smile as his grip on your wrist loosens.

Unbuttoning his pants, fingers hooking around the waistband, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull down his jeans and boxers in one go.

“Holy shit–” You say, gaping at the sheer size of him. Flushed pink at the mushroom tip, and so fucking wet.

Your eyes trail along the prominent vein on the underside before looking up at him. He looks nervous as hell right now, “Is it– is there something wrong with it?” he asks, gulping. 

You shake your head immediately, now you’re the one swallowing with the sudden dryness in your throat. “No– definitely not. It's just.. like” You lick your lips “Really big.”

“Do you normally get this..wet?” You ask, wrapping your hand– or attempting to wrap it around the base. 

He winces at the feeling of your soft palm before nodding. “Is that a—fuck.. Is that a bad thing?” He asks, tone utterly pathetic.

You answer with a long lick from the base to the tip, gathering what you can of his leaking pre cum, the saltiness coating your tastebuds in the best way possible.

He lets out a wrecked sound, the feeling of a tongue on him so new–

“Not at all.” You mumble, running your tongue along the underside of his tip. His hips buck at the sensation, mouth hanging open, watching you.

This time he doesn't say sorry. You smile against him before wrapping your mouth around him, trying to take as much as you can, you brace one of your hands on his thigh, the other one wrapping around the base of his cock.

It's so worth it once the most pathetic moan escapes past his lips and he makes no move to hide it. 

“I-its so warm–” He groans, hand coming up to tangle in your hair purely on instinct. You hum and the vibration makes his hips jerk instantly, forcing more of himself in the warm column of your throat. “Y/n– I can’t..” He says, biting his lip–trying to watch you but it's so hard to with the way his eyes flutter shut.

His sounds give you even more motivation as you bob your head faster, squeezing the base of his cock. “W-wait, slow down–” He tries to pull your head back, but you stay put as his warm cum spills down your throat, his grip on your hair falters as you milk him dry.

You pull off of him, cum coating your lips, looking up at his face, the sweat beside his eyebrow, to his glazed eyes, then back down to his still hard dick.

“You’re..” You breathe out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and blinking once “You’re still hard–” You say, watching as a small bead of cum dribbles down his cock along the thick vein. “I should have said something– Once it gets like this..” He looks down at his dick, standing proud “..it takes um, a few tries to get it down.” He swallows.

He moves to pull his boxers back up to tuck it back but you stop him. “Have you ever had a handjob?” You ask, standing up and sitting next to him. He shakes his head shyly. “Ive never really had anyone– you know.” You smile at that,

“Good, I wanna make you cum again.” His cheeks flush at that, but he nods because who is he to say no to such an offer?  

-

It doesn’t stop there. What used to be a dream– a fantasy in Heeseung's mind is actually actively coming true.

Who would have thought innocent tutoring lessons would turn into something like this? A shared secret between the two of you that your friends are definitely picking up on. 

Based on the way you walk around even more confidently than before, and the way you actually look for Heeseung in a room—only to find him already staring at you.

To be completely honest, you don’t know what it is you have going on, but the attention feels so fucking good—especially after what happened just a few days ago,

“So what did you need help with?” You had asked, following him into the computer lab, which was empty due to it being after hours. “Nothing,” He said, Your brow lifting immediately, “You literally asked me to come here,”

“I just need to check something.” He mumbles, you cross your arms over your chest, “That sounds suspicious.”

He looks up at you, loading in his work in progress of a game, “It’s not.” You roll your eyes, “Yeah will it sound like it.”

He exhales, trying to sound as least suspicious as possible, “Can you just–stand there for a second.” You blink once, “What?” 

“Just a second,” You tap your finger against your crossed arm, “Why?” He continues clicking stuff on his computer, “Because I asked,” He says simply, “That’s not a reason.”

He looks up at you again, almost pleading look in his eyes. “Fine, even though this is weird.” You say, giving in.

He turns his monitor away from you, and you shift slightly. His eyes flick between his screen and you–not awkwardly, just with extreme focus, like he’s studying you. “..what are you doing?” you finally ask, “Nothing.” He mutters, “you’re staring.”

“No, im observing,” He says confidently, the sound of his mouse clicking and keyboard typing filling the space between the two of you. “That's worse.”,

“Can you just turn a little to the left..” He asks with a vague gesture. “Why?” 

“I just need to see something,” You huff, “Why are we doing this Heeseung?” he hesitates for a split second, “It’s for my game.” he admits.

“The one you’ve been working on?” He nods, looking up at you again, then back to the screen.

“So what does that have to do with me?” You narrow your eyes slightly, “I needed a reference,” He says, biting his lip nervously, waiting for you to call him a creep– a weirdo, obsessive freak maybe?

But when you smile, he can’t help but mirror the action, quickly going back to focusing when you do eventually turn for him.

Heeseung's cute, attractive in a way the guys you've been with before weren't.

The first time you walked into his room a little bit over a week ago for tutoring–which ultimately led to a very heated makeout session, and you learning that he really likes kissing.

His room didn't even surprise you, hell– he even had a whole section dedicated to Toy Story figures.

You also learned that he’s a pretty big gamer, and takes it very seriously– probably why he’s in that Gaming development club or whatever the fuck.

Your favorite part is how shy he gets, especially when you say the most out of pocket things.

“So you’ve never eaten a girl out before?” You ask, sitting up straight on his bed.

His face turns an embarrassing shade of red. “I–No..” he says, shifting in his gaming chair, thankful the notebook in his lap covers the way his cock is already half hard from the words alone. 

You tilt your head, smiling. “Do you even know where the clit is?” You ask through a chuckle.

“What– Why are you..” He looks down at his notebook, then at the physics papers scattered across his bed where you sit.

“…We should be focusing on studying right now y/n–” You roll your eyes, gathering the papers together in one stack. “Just answer the question Hee.” That nickname again. The one that really gets him, and you know it.

“I did a human anatomy study for one of my classes last semester—very detailed, so, kind of? I think.” Your brow raises at that. “Yeah? So you think you’re some expert now?” You ask, leaning back on your palms.

He finally removes the notebook from his lap, setting it on the cluttered table behind him. Your eyes immediately fall to the very clear bulge in his sweatpants that he makes no move to hide anymore. 

“Is this you trying to distract me from studying again?” He asks, standing up. “Is it working?” You question, biting your lip.

“I had to lie to the tutoring lab administrators the other day, about the tutoring hours y’know. I couldn’t just tell them the pretty girl I got assigned to, spent half the time sucking me off instead of actually doing her work” He says, not exactly sure where this newfound confidence of his is coming from—but from the way your cheeks flush that perfect shade of pink, he must be doing something right. 

“Couldn’t tell them she wears these little tops that seem to get smaller every session, these shorts that get tighter– absolutely kills me,” he admits, looking down at your bare legs.

“I did tell them that you’re a great student, good at comprehending the material, always focused on the task at hand.” He climbs on the bed with you until you're laying flat on your back.

“Kind of lied about the focus part though, you’re more of a distraction– a really good one at that.” He clarifies, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive spot below your ear he just discovered the other day.   

“Hee–” You breathe out, running a hand through his hair, he pulls back looking down at you. Humming in response, already lost in you.

“Are you going to eat me out or not?” You ask bluntly, you don't miss the pink shade that covers his ears. “You should know by now that I'll do anything you ask me too,” He says, licking his lips. 

He pulls back, looking down at you. “Ive been thinking about this you know, can I admit that?” he asks, smoothing both of his hands down your bare thighs—testing.

You nod, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your jeans shorts, but he stops your hand. “I want to look at you like this for a little—“

“I think about you a lot actually, probably more than I should.” He adds, lowering himself to the soft carpet of his bedroom floor.

“Ever since that first day of Econ too, remember when you tapped my shoulder?” He smiles, you nod. “I swear I couldn't get you out of my head– not in a creepy way, but you just–” He presses a gentle kiss to your calf— not quite sure if this is what he's supposed to be doing, but it feels right. 

“You have an effect on people y/n, I don’t even think you realize it.” He whispers, looking up at you.

“Heeseung..”

“I know, it's a lot– there's so much more I have to say too.” He chuckles, still unbelieving that you’re right here in front of him.

“But I really—really want to do this right now.” He admits, fingers finally hooking around the waistband of your shorts.

He pulls them down slowly, the movement intimate, like he's treasuring each reaction– studying it harder than he does his schoolwork, or whatever video game he plays. 

You sit up on your elbows to get a better view, and it's so worth it.

He looks up once, and when you nod his fingers move to pull your underwear down as well, and he moans—actually moans at the sight of you.

“Even your pussy is perfect–” He says, licking his lips. The words cause even more arousal to drip out of you. He swipes his finger through your folds once, gathering some– the touch makes your hips jolt.

“After, we can finish Toy Story 2 right?” He asks, looking up at you—eyes practically sparkling. You nod immediately “Yes– fuck, Heeseung..” You breathe out, watching him lick the juices from his fingers.

“Just need your mouth on me– now.” You demand, he smiles “Still bossy as ever.” Before mirroring the same action of his finger, licking a stripe up your pussy, because this is what he’s supposed to do right?

He tries making out with your pussy, and from the moans that leave your lips he must be doing something right. There's something messy about the way he does it,

“Just like that– are you..fuck” You moan when his nose bumps your clit, “..are you sure you’ve never done this?” You ask, breaths coming in heavy pants as he hums against you, your hips bucking against his face. 

He discovers a rhythm, alternating between teasing your aching hole with the tip of his tongue, and flicking it over your throbbing clit– the sensitive bud craving the touch.

He pulls back for a moment, admiring the mess he's made before gathering some spit in his mouth and letting it drop right onto your pussy. 

Where the fuck did he learn that from. 

He looks up at you, the way your mouth hangs open before latching his lips onto your clit, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

“Oh my God– Hee, I can’t..” You give up on holding yourself up with your arms as your fingers tangle through his soft locks, pulling him even closer to you. He groans into the heat of you, the sounds of him eating you out filthy– 

“I need–” You say, trying to get your words out, he parts from your clit, looking up at you, the bottom half of his face completely covered in your slick, but he could care less about that right now—if anything it's rewarding.

“I need your fingers, Heeseung..” You whimper, he brings his middle finger to your entrance, teasing it subtly,

“Like this?” he asks, watching your face for approval. You nod, he pushes the tip of his finger in, your hole welcoming him in with ease

“It’s so wet–so warm” he observes, pushing it in deeper, you hold onto his wrist. “Mmm– Hee..” You cry out as his finger curls experimentally. 

He watches your reaction before doing it once more, noting how you tighten around him at the movement.

“You’re so pretty—seriously, I can’t get enough of you..” He whispers, the words easily falling out, your eyes flutter shut.

He moves your hand from his wrist, setting it on top of his head.

“Pull it—I don’t care, it feels good” He admits, curling his finger deeper, using his other hand to prevent your legs from closing around his head. 

And you’re thankful he did because the second his tongue is back on you, you’re tugging at the strands, his finger curling and uncurling inside of you, mixed with the way he slurps at your clit

This has to be the best head you’ve ever gotten—hands down. Inexperienced guys really do eat pussy the best. 

“F-fuck Hee, I– Im close..” You warn, but it only makes him more determined—the thought of you actually cumming, and even better, him being the one to give you that pleasure fuels him even more.

His finger repeatedly brushing a spot inside of you that you can’t reach and his tongue flicking your clit through his pursed lips has you completely undone—reaching your high with his name on your tongue, pulling at his hair– not sure if you want him off or even closer—definitely closer.

He moans against your pussy like he's the one getting pleasure, in all fairness—he probably is. 

Your back arches off the bed as your juices coat his face, he doesn't even care if it drips down his chin, wetting the sheets below you, he still tries to greedily lap up what he can, finger never leaving inside of you until the rise and fall of your chest slows.

Only then does he lift his head from between your legs, looking up at you for approval. “T-theres no way that was you’re first time” You say, watching as he stands up, licking his lips.

“So you would let me do it again?” He asks, picking up your underwear from the floor, “Is that a serious question Heeseung?” He chuckles,

“Good, because I think I maybe– kind of got the hang of it.” He says, moving to put on your underwear for you. And you let him, “I might need to do it a few more times to make sure– for research purposes.. And stuff.”

He clears his throat, you can’t help but laugh, wincing at the way the cloth of your underwear feels on your sensitive pussy. He presses a kiss just above your waistband. You swallow at the action– how genuine it felt, how genuine the boy before you is.

You watch as he lays against the headboard of the bed, cock clearly hard in his pants before raising your brow. “What?” he says through a chuckle, flipping through the apps on his TV looking for the Toy Story 2 movie.

“You’re just going to sit here, with that?” You ask, still laid down on his bed. “You said we could watch Toy Story 2– I thought..” He shifts when you sit up, crawling to lay next to him. 

“God– you really are a nerd.” You say through a laugh, “Hey– the plot is a lot deeper than they make it out to be, I think you’re really underestimating the whole thing–” He starts,

“Heeseung, just put the movie on.” You shake your head, he presses a sloppy kiss to your forehead before doing just that.

But its safe to say you didn’t let him deal with his little (big) problem for much longer after that.

-

“Why are you doing that?” Jake asks, side eyeing Heeseung as he works on the code before him– while also smiling.

“Huh? Doing what?” He questions, looking at his friend for a split second.

“That smiling thing.”

Heeseung scoffs, “I’m not doing any type of smiling thing.” Jake's eyes fully leave his monitor to really look at him.

“Y’know, you’re absolutely shit at lying.” Jake says, “I’m not even– what,”

“It’s y/n huh?” Jake says for him. “Shut up–” Heeseung mutters, tone a hushed whisper.

“Holy shit– no fucking way she actually..” Heeseung's ears go that pathetic shade of pink, “Don’t be so loud okay? I– she doesn’t want anyone knowing anything” Heeseung says, seriously.

Jake raises a brow at that “What is she embarrassed or something?”

“No– it’s just, I– It doesn’t matter, okay?” Heeseung says, voice low. “I dunno man, you really like her, right?—are you sure..” 

“Heeseung?” That familiar voice cuts through, Clair.

Part of him thankful for taking him away from this conversation with his best friend. “Hey, what's up?” He immediately says, ignoring Jake's annoyed huff.

“We’re going to the dining hall to get something– the others are really hungry, especially with the deadline coming up.” She says, biting her lip anxiously.

“Do you wanna come with– you too, Jake.” She adds, looking behind him for a split second. 

He looks back down at his computer, the half finished code nowhere near ready, “I can’t. I have to finish this.” Heeseung says, cursing himself for being so distracted.

“Oh, um—okay, want us to bring something back–”

Jake interrupts immediately. “Yeah, pretty sure they're doing that good ramen today, thanks Clair.” She shoots him a look before glancing back at Heeseung, who is in fact back to working on the code.

“Yeah, sure.” She replies, both of the boys missing the tone of her voice. 

“I seriously don’t understand his obsession with her.” Clair says, making her way to the dining haul. “I mean she's like really pretty.” Her friend says quietly.

“Not that pretty—I don’t get why someone like her would even go for someone like Heeseung, I mean they are like the complete opposite!” She says through a whine. 

“Not to mention she's a total bitch.” Her friend side eyes her “I don’t get why you even like Heeseung in the first place, yeah he's cute and all but if you’re actually in competition with Y/n I fear–” 

“Shut up– She's probably just using him anyway.” Clair mumbles, stepping into the line,

“Using Heeseung?” Her friend questions through a laugh “Yeah, I mean, she's known for being a slut. Wouldn’t doubt if none of those frat guys wanted her anymore so she had to move for him out of all people.” Her friend shakes her head “lm gonna get the fruits, try not to explode while im gone.” Clair rolls her eyes at the comment.

“I really can’t.. I promised him.” You say, looking down at your phone. “Are you serious Y/n? Last month you were like begging to go to party after party and now you don’t want to? Is the dick that good?” Sunoo asks, earning a laugh from Yunjin beside him.

“They can’t reschedule for next Saturday instead?” You ask, biting your lip while looking past the line of people waiting for food– guess this is what you get for coming when everyone was on a break. 

“I mean, I wouldn't doubt if one of those frat guys would cancel it if you asked,” Yunjin says with a smirk. “I’m not going, end of story– I promised Heeseung and I can’t break it.” You say proudly,

“Okay, fine, why don’t you just bring him then?” Sunoo suggests, You look at him like he's crazy. “Are you kidding?” You ask, looking at the both of them. “Uh– no babe, dead serious. I mean he's clearly down bad for you, and by the looks of it you’re pretty damn close.” Yunjin states.

“Hes–” You chuckle, “hes not even the party type. like seriously, he hates them.”

They look at each other, “You sure it’s not something else.. Like maybe the concept of hard launching with someone like him?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head. “What– you guys are ridiculous.” You mutter. 

“Plus, the only reason why he was at that one party was because he saw that story I posted” You smile at the memory,

“Told me himself the otherday.” You say proudly. You miss the way the girl in front of you stills.

“So he literally admitted to stalking you.” Sunoo says, brow raised. “He so was, and you love it too.” Yunjin adds through a laugh

“So what if it feels good? Am I not allowed to have fun?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “I think you’re having a little more than fun..” Sunoo mumbles.

You tighten your lips to hide your smile before looking past the line of people, “This is exactly why we don’t come here during peak hours.” 

“Heeseung–” Clair says first thing as she walks back into the computer lab, He lifts his head, acknowledging.

“I–” She pauses, Jake raises a brow beside him. “There's something you should know” She says quickly.

“Is it about the development? If you need help on something I can..” He starts “It's not about anything with the club– it's about that girl.” She says, shifting on her feet. 

Heeseung looks behind him at his best friend before turning back to Clair,

“Y/n?” He questions, because who else could she be talking about..

“Yes.”

“Look, if it's about how she can sometimes be a little.. intimidating..” he pauses, trying to think of the right word, "That's just how she is, don’t take it personal–” 

"It's not about that!” She says louder than intended, causing a few eyes to look her way and Jake to make a noise beside him.

“Look– can we talk outside?” She asks with an almost nervous tone. “Oh, um..” He looks down at his monitor before looking back up

“..yeah– um, yeah sure.” He mumbles before standing up and following her out into the empty hallway.

“So what's up–”

“She’s using you.” Clair says flatly. He pauses–what? 

“Shes– who?” He swallows, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the girl in front of him. “Y/n, she’s using you,” He looks down at his feet,

“Why would she use me?” He questions almost to himself, a dry chuckle leaving his throat. 

Clair looks at him, trying to bite back another emotion from rising.

“I overheard her talking with her friends in the dining hall.” Clair starts, his eyes are back on her, “They were pretty much talking about how you were just an ego booster for her—because she was bored.” She says, not even caring if she's twisting the conversation into something that will hopefully benefit her. 

“W-what–” Heeseung searches her eyes for something—anything, amusement maybe? To say this is just some fucked up joke?

“No– that doesn’t make any sense, she wouldn't do something like that..” 

He bites his lip and thought, trying to replay your moments together— those moments in private.

The ones no one knows about except the two of you– your shared secret.

“It’s true Heeseung, I heard them” 

He shakes his head, unbelieving– because you wouldn't do that, no you wouldn't. You said you cared about him,

Clair is lying, she has to be. 

“Are you lying to me?” Heeseung asks, looking her dead in the eye.

She swallows, “No– Heeseung, why would I lie about this? I'm telling you what I heard, she’s using you for her own benefit, that's how girls like her are..”

He scoffs “Girls like her? What does that mean?” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You know what I'm talking about.. Those attention whores–” 

“Don’t.” He interrupts, "Don't speak about her like that– she’s not,”

He sighs "That's not what she is, okay?” He breathes out

“But im trying to tell you–” She starts

“Why? Why would you be telling me this? What's the point of it?” He asks, trying to contain the fear in his chest right now. The doubt starting to cloud his judgement.

“Because you deserve someone better, Heeseung—someone who actually appreciates you, not someone who's trying to use you!” She says, reaching out for his arm.

He steps back, out of her grasp. “I– I don’t believe you.” He whispers, lips in a tight line.

“But I heard her–” She says, voice stern, forcing him to believe it, or even herself.

“No, you– you don’t know her like I do, you don’t.” He states, hand already on the door knob of the computer lab. 

“So stay out of it.” He says, tone completely different to how he normally is, that defensive wall coming up, shielding him from this– this accusation.

She opens her mouth to speak but closes it when he opens the door to the lab, moving past her. 

“Yo—are you good?” Jake asks, watching as Heeseung powers off the computer, tossing his stuff in his bag.

“Im fine. Something came up.” he says, not bothering to look up.

“Heeseung–” Jake starts, confused as his friend walks out without saying another word.

-

There's no way any of it is true, I mean– you out of all people, using him, Heeseung, the guy who is described as some loser-nerd who plays video games all day and apparently “can’t get any pussy” according to Jake. At least that's who he's known as to everyone else, but with you it felt different. 

So It can’t be true. Why would you even use someone like him! It makes no sense, you wouldn’t do that– not for your own benefit, not to make yourself feel better, not because you were bored or needed an ego boost from a guy who would clearly do anything for you. Including spending extra hours way past the limit making sure you passed one of the most challenging classes. 

You were the first girl to give him a blowjob for fucks sake!

First girl who even let him get close enough to actually eat your pussy– which he still can’t believe happened and replays constantly in his mind.

You care about him, you do!– or is he imaging it all? 

Is this really just some sick mind game– are you playing him? Is what Clair said really true?

No– he can’t let these thoughts cloud his mind, because he likes you, probably more than like honestly, but you like him too right?

I mean, how could you let someone get so close to you without actually liking them, right? 

He's spiraling, like actually going insane. Now that these thoughts are in his head he cant get them out–

Is this the reason why everything between you two is in private?

No, don’t connect the dots, don’t assume. God– why is he here right now, and why is he so damn nervous. 

No, right tutoring—that's his purpose right now, being your tutor.

His hand hovers over your door before knocking.

“Hey—come in, I just got back from Yunjin’s, and I picked up a little something on my way back,” You say, opening the door and walking back to your kitchen.

He nods before removing his shoes and following you, setting his bag on the island stool.

“It smells really good, are you cooking?” He asks, watching as you squat down to look inside of your oven, trying hard not to watch the way your shorts easily ride up, your ass slightly peaking out from the movement.

He swallows before looking away, eyes landing on the bag on the counter. 

“Mhm, I've been trying new stuff ever since I made that pasta for you, I made something for Sunoo the other day and he actually said it was good, like no bullshit.” You say, still looking at what's in the oven.

“This time, I tried making these like red velvet cheesecake cookies,” 

He nods, but speaks up “Well uh, it smells good”

You turn around to look at him, tilting your head “Yeah, you said that” he swallows sudden dryness in his throat.

“Right..” You shake your head before turning off the timer and taking the cookies out of the oven,

“Okay, they have to cool down and stuff for like..” You check your phone, scrolling, “..only ten minutes,” You look up at him, smiling. 

His eyes fall to the bag on the counter, and yours follow his.

“Right! Okay, so I know you really like Toy Story and all that but also Ramen– like I saw your ramen cabinet at your place and was honestly shocked, but..”

He tilts his head curiously watching as you pull the packets out of the bag,

“Apparently it's some seasonal thing, but I just thought you would like it because buzz lightyears face is literally on it–” You say through a laugh, showing him the Ramen pack. 

He smiles—genuinely, something close to guilt pinging in his chest as he takes it from you.

“T-this, this is really nice of you” He mutters, looking at you. “It's nothing, really” You say, knowing damn well you nearly chased a worker down at the store in order to get the last pack of them from the back. 

“Thank you,” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

You pause for a moment, before wrapping your own arms around him, one of your hands running through his hair.

“Okay, okay– weren't you the one who insisted that we actually study this time.” You say, peeling back.

He chuckles, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Right– um, sorry.” 

“It’s okay Hee, I'm just glad you like it..” You say, hand pulling him closer by his waistband, his breath catches in his throat.

“Want a cookie?” you ask, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes innocently at him, in that way you were just looking at him the last time you got on your knees for him.

“Cookie?” He questions, voice shaky– “Yes, the cookies I just made” You add, as if you’re not the very reason his brain is short circuiting. 

He makes a noise when your hand trails lower, lightly cupping the half hard length of him inside of his sweatpants.

He nods and you offer a squeeze before peeling your hand back.

He whimpers at the loss, hand reaching out to steady himself on the counter. 

“Okay,” You say sweetly, moving back towards the oven. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of any irrational thoughts right now–

he's here to study, and study only.

And he's not going to let those feelings of doubt cloud his mind either, because it's not true, nothing Clair said is true

…right?

“..and they just kept on asking, but I told them I couldn’t– and that you literally hate parties.” You continue, not paying attention to the work in front of you at all.

He just nods, sort of regretting agreeing to your 10 minute “brain break” idea.

He’s tried to avoid looking at you this whole time– because fuck–you look good. 

“I mean, I don’t hate them..” He mumbles, picking at the eraser of his pencil.

“Okay, but you don’t want to go to one, right?” You ask, legs swung over his lap.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was with you though– I like spending time with you..” He clears his throat “..so I’d be willing to go through that if it means I can be with you” He says, looking at you. 

“Thats cute,” You note, watching the way his ears flush– still the same as when he first met you.

“I like spending time with you too, Hee” You smile, sitting up.

“But I really don’t feel like studying right now..” You whisper, leaning in close, lips ghosting just over his.

“Maybe..” He visibly swallows, “Maybe we can..extend the break then?” 

You hum in response, swinging one of your legs over his to straddle his thigh, his hands settle on your hips, grabbing onto the soft flesh.

“Y/n–” You silence his words in a kiss, hands resting on his chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt closer.

He moans into your mouth, you take the opportunity to slip your tongue in, him mirroring the action the same way he tried to do last time, but better—you pull back to catch your breath but he doesn't let that last for long, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you back onto his lips, earning a surprised gasp from you. 

You experimentally roll your hips against his thigh, the friction of his sweatpants against your shorts making you even wetter.

His hands roam up and down your back, wanting to feel all at once. You take the opportunity to slip your hand from his chest, palming him over his sweatpants– his cock already hard, desperate, and craving your touch. 

“Y/n..” He breathes against your lips, you move your hand to slip it into his waistband—

“Wait– y/n.. Hold on–” He whispers, even as his body leans into the touch.

You respond by kissing just below his jaw, he tilts his head giving you more access,

“Hmm?” you hum in response, “I need–” He lets out a low sound when you suck on the most sensitive part of his neck—his adams apple. 

“I need to ask you something..” He breathes out “...first–” You bring your hand lower, just under the elastic of his briefs before his hand leaves your hip and stops it.

“It– it’s important, I just need to say it–” your lips ghost over his neck, “It’s something Clair told me I–” You pause over his neck, pulling back to look down at him, 

“Clair?” You question, retracting your hand from his waistband to rest back on his chest.

He nods, “Yeah– you met her at that party, she’s one of my…friends”

You roll your eyes, “What did she say?” You question, licking your lips. 

“I just need to know that it’s not true—I told her it was ridiculous and that she was lying, but I need you to tell me–” he blinks once, trying to gather the words.

“Okay..” You say, an anxious feeling bubbling in your chest. 

He breathes out once, “She—she told me you were um.. Using me? Which I don’t know what you would use me for I mean– look at you, what could you possibly use me for you know?..”

He continues, not quite looking at you, “She uh said.. That she overheard you talking with your friends– that it was some ego boosting game?” He questions, “I don’t know– I just, it can’t be true right? You wouldn’t use the way I feel to feed into that–” You swallow, your breath catching in your throat

“Y-you wouldn't do that, you wouldn't play me–we have something, right? Y/n–” His chest rises and falls, waiting for you to respond– waiting for you to deny it, fuck just say something, anything. 

But that's not true– is it? Is that what you were doing the whole time and you were completely unaware, or maybe a part of you was aware of it– liked it even.

But Heeseung cares about you, he likes you, not just the front you put up, but he likes you.

This Clair girl– she completely is twisting your words, putting these thoughts in Heeseungs mind– you knew she liked him, but doing this, fuck you can’t even think straight because a part of it almost does feel real

“Y/n?” He questions, voice shaky. “T-thats not what this is right?” He asks, searching your face for something to tell him that Clair was lying.

You open your mouth to speak– but close it when nothing comes out.

“Please tell me it’s not true..” He breathes out, throat dry.

“Hee–” You start but his hands fall from your hips, he shifts to stand up, leaving you sitting on the couch, legs draped in an awkward position, shorts ridden up–  

“I can’t believe I let myself actually think–” He runs a hand through his hair “..that a girl like you could like me– fuck, im pathetic.” he whispers to himself, he can’t even bring himself to look at you.

“Y-you’re not pathetic Heeseung–” Your voice cracks

“No, I am–im an idiot for actually– I should have known.” He reaches down, grabbing his notebook and pencils from the coffee table.

“Let me explain Hee.. s-she’s not telling the..” He shoves his stuff in his bag, ears ringing– he needs to get out of here right now.

He's already humiliated, crying in front of you would just make it worse.

“No. because you couldn’t even deny it when I asked y/n– you couldn’t even make up a lie or anything.” He says, now fully looking at you. 

“I..I can’t do this. I can’t be here right now” He says, voice breaking. You stand up, reaching out for him but he steps back.

because if you touch him right now, he'll completely break, right here on your living room floor.

“Don’t go Hee– don’t.. let me explain,” You don’t even care for the way your eyes blur from the tears threatening to fall

He looks away, he can’t see you like this.

“You don’t have to worry about your reputation or what people think anymore…I—don’t make me feel any more stupid then I already do..please.” He whispers, lips trembling, you lower your hand to your side, watching him as he walks out, not even slamming the door behind him—instead, shutting it gently, and somehow it feels even worse.

-

He's avoiding you.

He's been avoiding you for the past few days–like actually, no staring at you when you two happen to be in the same room, no random pictures from him showing you the newest addition to his figure collection, nothing.

Just radio silence. 

Sunoo and Yunjin both give each other a look as you pick at your food with your fork,

“Babes..you haven’t actually eaten your food this whole time.” Yunjin says, drawing your eyes up to her.

You blink once, pushing your designer sunglasses up your nose– a weak attempt in masking how puffy your eyes are. 

“Not hungry” You mumble, continuing to poke at your food. “You just said you were craving it–” Sunoo says, watching you with an almost unbelieving look.

“Guess I was wrong” You sigh, picking up the tray. “Where are you going?” Yunjin asks, brow raised. “I’m just going to find something at home. I’ll see you guys later” You say, attempting to offer that smile of yours before leaving.

You open your small pantry, looking for something, when your eyes land on it, the ramen– the specifically designed buzz light year ones that you got for him. Sitting on the shelf, unopened.

Oh he's pathetic huh? You reach in, grabbing it to make something you’ll actually eat. 

Don’t do it.

Don’t open the messages app. Don’t click on his contact, and definitely do not type a message to send.

You: Hey, are we still on for tutoring tomorrow?

This is probably why you should have stayed with Yunjin and Sunoo. You swipe out of the messages, pretending to scroll through social media as you wait for a reply, taking another bite of the surprisingly good ramen. Fuck—he really does know his stuff.

You swipe back into the messages, watching as the bubbles show up, just to disappear, then show up again.

Hee: I can’t, but I’ll set you up with someone else instead

Someone else? Is he serious right now?

You: Is this a joke?

Hee: Im sorry

Hee: I have things to work on myself

There he goes, still apologizing.

You: you can’t even face me? Heeseung seriously?

You: can we meet up?

You: let me explain

Hee: Im sorry y/n, im busy

Hee: You’ll get an email of who you will be assigned to

You: I don’t want to be assigned to anyone else

You: I’m not going I don’t care

Hee: How will you keep your grade up then?

You: maybe with you tutoring me?

Hee: Y/n, I can’t. 

Hee: I’m sorry but I just can’t be around you right now

You: Im not going unless its you

Hee: I have to go

Hee: I'm sorry, good luck

“Fucking hell–” You whisper to yourself, setting your phone face down on the counter. Why does it feel like someone is squeezing your heart right now– A dry laugh leaves your throat, void of any amusement.

You swore to yourself, you swore you wouldn't let a boy out of all things make you feel this way.

But low and behold, Lee fucking Heeseung is the one to have you feeling like this on a Wednesday afternoon.

Or maybe it's yourself, maybe it really is your fault, maybe you even deserve this. 

-

“Uh– what are you doing here?” Jake asks, walking into his and Heeseung's shared apartment.

“Working on the code for my game,” Heeseung answers, not bothering to look up.

“Oh so you’re not watching porn?” Jake asks sarcastically, grabbing water from the fridge. 

Heeseung looks up, “Dude– what?”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Im fucking with you, but seriously you’ve been acting weird for the past week. It’s starting to freak me out.” He says, coming around the kitchen counter to look at Heeseung's computer. 

“And for the first time in like–forever, you’re here on a Thursday, aren’t you supposed to be tutoring too–” Jake starts,

"I'm not doing it anymore.” This time Jake actually pauses, “Like, not tutoring y/n– The y/n, like the sane girl you’re obsessed with?” He questions, unbelieving.

“Everyone was right about her. A girl like her wouldn't actually be interested in me. I should have listened but I was stupid, and.. And greedy.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I treated Clair like shit over it– I called her a liar, Im an asshole.” Heeseung swears, shutting his computer and rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Clair huh?” Jake says, sitting down. “Y’know, she actually asked me if you were going to that party tomorrow.”

Heeseung looks up, “What’d you say?” 

“I said you hated parties, but I’d still mention it because I know damn well being in here, sulking isn’t going to help at all.” Jake admits, standing up.

“And you kind of look like shit right now– how many hours of sleep did you get last night anyway–” he starts, observing his face.

Heeseung looks away, “Fine, ill go. But the second I hate it I'm leaving and coming back here to play league.” He says, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah– I'll just make sure you don’t hate it.” He says, a too proud smirk on his face.

- 

Jake claps him on the shoulder too hard, “Loosen up man, it’s friday–” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, looking around at the sea of bodies all together in some frat house.

“Yeah, a friday I could be spending getting my rank in league higher. y’know people actually get paid sometimes for it–” Jake gapes at him,

“See, this is why we needed to get you out. Look–I love that game and all, but you need to live a little, especially after the shit that went down with you know who.” He makes a face at the last words. 

Heeseung pauses, “Wait– you don’t think she's gonna be here tonight.. Right?” He swallows, looking around–scanning the crowd.

“Don’t worry about her, just get a drink– plus, im pretty sure Clair was looking for you..”

Panic bubbles in his chest, “I feel like I shouldn’t talk to her– I mean she probably doesn't even want to talk to me.” Heeseung says, rambling on as Jake guides him to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

Jake just nods along, pouring himself and Heeseung a drink and handing it to him.

“Whats this?” Heesueng asks, smelling the contents in the cup. “Something that will make you a whole lot less anxious,” Jake says through a laugh. 

Heeseung swallows, throat dry– maybe this is what he needs, a break. Something to help him disassociate from his brain for a little bit, get away from the overthinking.

He takes the cup without another word, downing whatever his friend put together. “Alright– that works too.” Jake says, sipping his own drink.  

And that's how Heeseung got here now, oversized hoodie discarded somewhere in the house, laughing with Jake and some guys he introduced him to.

Actually sort of fitting in, and this time he doesn’t feel like some outsider. What would you think though? Seeing him like this– in a world you're so familiar with. 

Even though the music is loud, the room a bit crowded, the crisp night air from outside lingering in, doing little to mask the smell of alcohol and sweat, they looked..relaxed.

“You ever smoked before?” Sunghoon, the tall guy who he can now put a name to says, taking the joint from Jakes fingers. 

He hesitates for a second, Jake glancing at him giving him that questioning look, “Not really.” Heeseung admits, Sunghoon nods,

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says casually, “This shits pretty strong—my boy Jay got it for us,” Sunghoon says, nudging his friend's shoulder. 

Heeseung exhales, looking around the room once again, this is his choice– “Nah, its fine” Heeseung says, reaching out for it “I’ll try it.”

Jake's eyebrows raise at that “Hell yeah, this is what I meant by loosening up man,” 

“Just don’t–” Jake says too late, the first inhale is a mistake, his throat burns, he turns away immediately as his friends start laughing “-rush.”

“Im fine–” Heeseung manages to say in between coughs “Im good– it’s good.” 

“You sure? You look like you’re dying–” Jay says with a grin on his face. “I’m not dying– it’s just, strong.” Heeseung says, “That's how y’know it's good.” Jay adds, He hands it back to Sunghoon, shaking his head to reset himself. 

He takes another sip of his drink, the alcohol already helping with making things feel lighter, “..I don’t really feel anything.” He says, leaning over to Jake. “Give it a second,” His friend says with a smirk. 

And then he feels the shift, not all at once– but just enough to know that they weren't lying when they said it was strong.

The loud rap song on the speaker fades, like it's further away now. His shoulders relax as he exhales slowly, “..damn.” Heeseung mutters, “What?” Jake whispers.

Heeseung cracks a smile, subtle. “Nothing. I just– it–” He blinks once, he can’t put it into words, but somehow everything does feel lighter. Like the tension that's been in his body for the past week is just..gone.

“You good?” Sunghoon asks, an amused grin on his face. “Yeah,” Heeseung nods, leaning back against the wall. “I’m good.” 

“Heeseung?” His eyes follow the voice, Clair.

“Oh, hey–” He says, turning his attention towards her rather than the group, earning a side eye from Jake before he goes back to talking.

“You made it..” She says, almost sounding relieved. “Yeah, I uh– look,” He breathes, “I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day, because you–” He looks down at his feet, “I think you were right, and I shouldn't have–”

She interrupts him “Its fine Heeseung, I forgive you.” Something flashes in her eyes, “I’m just glad we don’t have to worry about her anymore,” She says, smiling up at him.

Worry about her? He questions to himself, but shakes his head–mind already fuzzy.

“Babe, you don’t have to worry. Use tonight to finally relax, you love parties remember?” Yunjin says, smile bright on her face. Sunoo checks his reflection in his phone camera as you three approach said party.

“I don’t know– I really feel like I need to think about the stuff with Heeseung, he's probably sitting at home alone, I just feel bad and I never got the chance to tell him–” You continue on as you enter the house. 

Sunoo cuts you off, “I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Your eyes follow his, landing on Heeseung.

Laughing with a group, drink in hand, and none other than that fucking girl who can’t keep your name out of her mouth–practially glued to his side. You feel the heat rush to your face, “Shit–” Yunjin says, giving Sunoo a look, he shrugs. 

“Y/n, we can leave now if you want–” She starts, giving you a worried look,

“No,” You say bluntly, grabbing yourself a drink. “I’d seriously rather not,” You watch as he runs a hand through his hair, laughing at something Sunghoon said. 

“We should say Hi,” You look at Sunoo and Yunjin, smiling. Except it doesn't quite meet your eyes. “Are you sure that's a good idea–” Sunoo says through a laugh, “Okay, nevermind she's going.”

“Look who finally decided to show her pretty face,” One of the guys says, you don’t even know who it is, because all you’re focused on is Heeseung’s face when he sees you.

Yunjin and Sunoo come behind you, greeting everyone else. You haven't even looked at Clair once, no point in wasting time on a liar like her.

Your eyes land on the joint in between his fingers that Sunghoon just passed him, “You smoke now?” You ask, tilting your head. His eyes travel back up to your face immediately, not even aware of how obvious he was with it.

“I– No–” You look down at his hand, he swallows, “I just–” You hum in response, lifting his hand on your own, bringing it to your mouth.

His lips fall open slightly as you inhale, slow, practiced, even though you haven't smoked in forever. 

“Damn,” One of the guys–presumebly Jay says, watching the scene. Sunoo chuckles, shaking his head knowingly.

“So you like parties now?” You ask, he looks down at your lips, watching as they move– fuck he’s not even listenting right now. 

“Huh?” He asks, blinking once. “I asked if you like parties now,” You repeat, ignoring the glare the girl beside him is giving you.

“I mean, I don’t– Jake dragged me here.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You watch as Clair tugs on the short sleeve of his plain white shirt, you mask the surprise at that–normally it would be some band or animated character on it.

He looks at her for a split second and she leans up to whisper something in his ear.

“What was that?” You ask, “Y/n–” Heeseung starts but Clair interrupts him. “I was saying, you need to leave him alone.” She says, and you scoff– looking at her, Jake's eyes look between the three of you like he can’t believe what's going on. You don’t even care who's looking at this point either.

“He’s a big boy, he can speak for himself.” You say, not sparing her a glance.

“Can you not be such a bitch for like five seconds–” This time he looks at her, already taking a step back,

“Oh, I’m the bitch? I’m not the one who twisted my words into something just so you could be on his good side.” You say, the accusation makes her freeze.

“You don’t deserve him–” She starts,

“Please, stop.” Heeseung says, you look at him–the anxiousness in his slightly red eyes. She still continues, “Stop!” He nearly yells, way louder than intended, his ears going red at the heads that turn. 

“Y/n– can we please just..talk outside, maybe?” He asks, you shake your head, a dry chuckle leaving your throat. “You seem pretty occupied Heeseung.” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it when you walk away, disappearing down the same hall your friends wandered off to a little bit before that. 

“Fuck..” He whispers to himself, regretting whatever amount he drank, and most of all whatever the fuck he smoked. “I need to–” He pauses, closing his eyes for a second, “-I need to go talk to her, I cant–” He looks down at the girl beside him,

“Is it true?” He asks, genuine hurt in his expression, “Is what true?” She swallows, “You, twisting her words– did you lie to me?” He asks, searching her face for something honest. “I–”

The hesitation is enough. 

The next words that leave her mouth are muffled by the sound of the insufferable music playing on the speakers, and overlapping voices of people talking and shouting. He doesn’t even know where he's going, he doesn’t know what he's doing–what he's going to say to you when he sees you, “Y/n?” He shouts, knocking on a closed door, when no one replies he moves on, 

He's said the words “Excuse me” and “Sorry” over ten times in the last five minutes, pulling his phone out of his pocket, texting you would make total sense right—dead. Of course his phone is dead right now, out of any time.

This is what he gets for playing geometry dash for the first 30 minutes here. 

Who the hell can even afford a house this big anyway while also being a college student. He doesn’t even bother knocking anymore, immediately regretting it when he walks in on a guy who, if he's not mistaken, had two girls in the bed with him, his face going red immediately before yelling a “Shit I-im– Sorry!” and slamming the door shut.

You check yourself in the mirror one more time before opening the door, only to see none other than Lee Heeseung already standing there. Hand reached out to open the door, he brings it back to his side awkwardly, “Hi–” You raise a brow, “Hi.” 

Why didn’t he fucking rehearse this? “Did you um– How was the tutoring?” He asks, shifting on his feet.

You chuckle dryly, “I didn’t go.” You say plainly, his face changes to concern. “You need the tutoring though– your grade..” 

“And you’re seriously talking to me about tutoring right now?” He shakes his head “Sorry– I’m just..” He sighs, "I'm really nervous right now, I can’t–” He breathes out, “I don’t like how we left things– how I left things.” 

“You’ve been avoiding me for days.” You state, trying to keep your voice that steady tone. “I know, I know– it was stupid of me, I shouldn't have–where are you going?” You move past him, “I’m not talking about this in the middle of a house party.” 

“Please Y/n–”

“So are you coming or not?” He doesn't hesitate before following after you, looking down at your phone as you send your friends a text he doesn’t have enough time to read. You ignore the looks as you and Heeseung make your way to the front door, 

“I shouldn’t have avoided you like that.” He says, falling into step beside you. Cursing himself for forgetting his hoodie, but no way was he going back in there when he had you right here. 

When you don’t say anything he continues, “I just– I was confused when you hesitated, when I asked you about the whole thing..” He says quieter, looking at your side profile under the streetlights.

“About me using you?” His steps falter for a moment, “Yeah, that.”

“I honestly think I was an idiot–I mean, expecting you out of all people to actually like a guy like me.” He chuckles at the thought, “Hee–” You pause on the sidewalk, “I–” You look up at him, “I should have been honest with you– I shouldn't have hesitated when I knew it wasn’t true– but I did say some things..”

You watch his face for a reaction “It's just, your attention felt different to me, like you actually liked me, not just the surface level either and I just– I guess I thrived off of it in a way?” You cringe at the idea,

“And I regret it.. I regret it so much Heeseung.” You don’t even register the first tear that slips out until his hand comes up to your face immediately to wipe it away, “Shhh, don’t cry–don’t,” He breaths, retracting his hand– because he doesn’t deserve to touch you.

“I don’t regret anything we did though,” You clarify, looking up at him, he turns away, continuing to walk beside you, “I’m sorry,” He whispers, you look at him confused, "I'm sorry for being a coward, f-for walking out on you.” 

“Im sorry for not being honest with you Heeseung– because I like you, a lot. Probably way more than I should, and definitely more than I thought.” You say, a dry chuckle leaving your throat.

“I like your stupidly perfect hair even after you run your hands through it every second– I like how you’re so open about your interests even if some people think it’s weird, I think your toy story fascination is really funny and cute actually, and I like that I can actually be myself around you..” 

“I hate that I made you doubt any of that.”

He pauses in front of you, looking past your shoulder at your apartment complex. “Y/n–” He starts, but you shake your head, “You don’t have to reply to me now– ” He takes a step forward

“Look y/n– I really, really want you in my life– I know it might be selfish but I just.. I can’t let you go.” He takes a surprising step closer, “And I understand if you don’t want to–but, can we at least be friends?” 

What the fuck? 

Friends? Seriously? You just practically poured your heart out, and he’s talking about friends! Did you mis-read the situation?

“Friends?” You ask, searching his face, He nods, waiting for an answer. You close your eyes for a moment before looking at him again, “Okay, friends.”

He lets out a relieved sound before pulling you into an embrace, you’re caught off guard, hands awkwardly at your sides before you lift them slowly to wrap around his body. 

“We can put the..stuff that happened in the past too–”

No! A part of you wants to scream, push him back, tell him that's not what you want–that you don’t get jealous over something as stupid as a guy, and yet here you are. 

“I.. Okay” You nod against his chest, he pulls back, hands braced on your shoulders, and he’s smiling–actually fucking smiling. “I can walk you up to your apartment–” he starts,

“No,” You quickly say, and yes– because you need a moment to think about what the fuck you’re doing, and because you don’t know what you’ll do if you’re in his presence for another five minutes. 

You chuckle awkwardly, “No–Like, I’m fine–really, I can do it myself,” His hands come to his sides, “Okay! um, great” He nods, “Text me when you’re up there then–shit nevermind, my phone kind of died at the party, I was playing geometry dash for like the first thirty–”

He watches your expression “-Sorry, im rambling again– I should probably go.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Heeseung.” You say,  bringing his attention back to you, “You’re not going back to the party right?”

He shakes his head immediately, “I was just going to go back to my place anyways– I think I've had enough of the ‘party life’ for one night,” He says through a laugh. you nod, slightly relieved before offering a tight smile, “Good,” he lifts his hand to wave– that awkward one that used to make you cringe, but now, you can’t help but find it adorable. He doesn’t leave until you’re inside of the building.

-

“..No fucking way–” Jake says mid laugh, right in Heeseungs face. “I just– I didn’t know what to do, or say, so that's why I did it.” Heeseung murmurs, running through the code for his game once again. 

“Yeah, well it was a stupid move–I mean, you, out of all people, being friends with Y/n.” He laughs again, “Seriously its fucking comedic” Heeseung finally looks up, “Whats that supposed to mean?” 

“Dude, im just saying– she’s not the kind of girl you can just be friends with, especially you.” His eyes fall to Heeseung's monitor, “Holy shit– it’s turning out good, you think it’ll be ready by Saturday?” He says, changing the topic. 

Heeseung shakes his head, “Yeah I just have to run through it a few more times, It’s still a bit choppy.” Jake chuckles, “Alright, let me know if you need any help– I know im not participating in it professionally and all but I still do this for fun y’know.” Heeseung nods, mind still replaying his other words. 

He can totally be friends with you! Who cares if he has had a crush on you for months, who cares if he almost actually had you– like really had you. Friends make sense, obviously. No complicated feelings just–normal, like nothing happened..right?

“Wait,” Jake says, leaning in closer–watching as a new screen pops up, a character model loading in. A little rough around the edges, but it’s the most detailed one he's shown so far.

Heeseung pauses, finger hovering over his mouse, “What–” , “Why does she look familiar?” Jake asks, brow raised.

Heeseung stills for a moment before shrugging, “Nah, she doesn’t” He resorts casually–at least attempting to. “She does.” Jake counters back,

“She’s quite literally just a character,” Heeseung says through a chuckle. “Yeah, with a specific attitude, face—body.” Heeseung rolls his eyes, “You’re reaching right now.”

Jake laughs, standing up, “The hair, really? Pink?” Heeseung looks at his screen again, “It’s just a design choice.” He simply says. “You sure it’s not just a distraction, so people don’t recognize who it actually looks like?”

Heeseung scoffs, “It’s not even based on anyone.” Jake nods, unconvinced, “Right..totally random.” Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “..It’s just a lot easier to design a character when you have a reference,” he mutters quietly.

Jake smirks, “Yeah, and you picked her.” He doesn’t answer that. 

“Does she know?” Jake asks skeptically. “Of course she knows!” Heeseung says defensively,

“It was just before the whole..thing happened.” He says, fidgeting with the scroll wheel on his mouse. “Well shit, you can’t change it now–”

Heeseung groans, “Yeah, I gathered that.” He waits for Jake to leave his room before picking up his phone immediately.

Heeseung: hey, sorry if this is random

You: It’s not 

Hee: Oh, okay

Hee: Well it's about my game

You: ???

Heeseung: I understand if you don’t feel comfortable with me using you as a model for one of the characters

You: What?

You: Heeseung, I don’t mind

Hee: Are you sure? I don’t want it to be weird or anything

You: Why would it be weird?

You: didn’t we agree on being friends

You: Friends help each other out, yk

Hee: Sorry

Hee: I'm just really tired

Hee: I've been working on this for hours already today

You: :(

You: Can I help in any way

Hee: you still want to help me?

You: Yes lol

Hee: Actually, if you’re not busy right now could you send me a picture of yourself

Hee: Sorry that sounds creepy

Hee: Its for the game, I want to get your features right

God he's pathetic– he has plenty of pictures of you on his phone already. He bites his lip, watching as the bubbles show up, then disappear. 

“Fuck–” He whispers, opening the image you sent him. It’s nothing explicit or revealing, its just you– a real time selfie, lying in bed, the warm lighting in your room casting subtle shadows on  your face.

You: Is that okay?

Heeseung: Its perfect

Heeseung: the picture is 

Heeseung: I mean you are too sorry

Heeseung: but it works

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat, imagining his face right now. God–imagine how he’d react to nudes.

You: haha thanks

Hee: would u be okay stopping by the computer lab tmrw? Not for long or anything I don't want to bore you, just because I want to get the finishing touches

You: yeah sure i don’t mind :)

Hee: Thanks y/n, i really appreciate it

You like the message before you say anything stupid–resisting the urge turning the conversation into something you’d probably regret in the morning. Friends, right– that's it. You’re totally fine with that, this is what friends do!

-

This is seriously the one place where you can’t seem to fit in. And of course, it's exactly where Heeseung thrives. You walk down the narrow aisle, once again trying to ignore the looks you get. Heeseung knows you finally came from the way Jake stops speaking and looks behind him slightly shocked. 

“Hey,” You smile–or at least attempt to. “Hi,” He says, looking up at you. Band t-shirt, and jeans baggy on his frame in an intentional way.

You stare at each other for a moment, he blinks– “Right– um, you can sit here,” He says, pulling out the empty seat next to him. You nod, setting your bag on the ground.

Jake shakes his head, a smug smile on his face as he continues working. “I didn’t interrupt anything right–”

“No!” Heeseung says a little too loud. “I mean– no, you came perfectly– here, like you came on time.” Jake attempts to stifle a laugh beside him.

He clears his throat, “Sorry, I'm just..stressed, I’ve been preparing this for months and I really don’t want to mess it up.” You nod, “It’s okay Hee, you're like really good at this stuff so im sure its amazing already.” He smiles, genuinely, “Its– I..thanks,” 

“I can show you what it looks like so far?” He clicks some buttons you’re not quite sure what they do– “Holy shit,” You watch his screen,

“Heeseung, you made this?” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, like I said it still needs some more work but I have a few more days.” 

“This is like one of those professional games– I honestly don’t really know much about this stuff but this is—legit.” He bites his lip, smile peaking through. “You mean it?” He asks, watching you’re face as you look at his monitor, “Yeah–yeah, I really do,”

“Can I see the character inspired by me?” You ask, nudging his leg with your foot, an action he still can’t find himself getting used to. His finger hovers over the mouse, “Not yet..” You tilt your head,

“I was actually hoping you would–maybe want to come to the event on Saturday?” He visibly swallows, “I just– you don’t have to or anything, I understand if you’re busy but I do really want you there and um, your support means a lot to me,” He says, the last words fading into something only you can hear.

“I’ll be there,” You say, hand coming down to rest on his knee- casually, like it’s normal, which it should be since your uh..friends?

He looks down at your hand, before making eye contact again, “Are you sure– like positive? I don’t want you to feel forced, and you can bring your friends if you want to– actually I don’t know, I don’t want to make a fool of myself..” He rambles on, doing that thing where his words come out faster than his brain can process it.

You laugh, a small sound–he pauses, looking at you again, “I’ll ask them if they can, okay?” He nods, “Don’t stress so much, those gaming CEO guys would be stupid not to invest in something like this,” You say, gesturing to his screen, your hand absent mindedly rubbing small circles on his leg.

His hand comes down to rest on yours, squeezing gently. And in that moment where his skin meets yours– you swear the whole room disappears.

The looks you can sense you’re getting from Clair, the sounds of the other students talking about whatever code–thingy they’re working on. “Thank you, it– it really means a lot to me.” 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once–twice. “I should probably go, my uh class it’s, yeah.” He retracts his hand quickly, nodding three times,

“Right– yeah, sorry.. I don’t want you to be late or anything.” He chuckles, almost nervously. “Yeah that would be bad huh?” You say, quirking a smile.

“I’ll um, I’ll text you more details about it,” Heeseung mutters, watching you pick up your bag.

“I’ll answer,” You say pushing in the chair, “Y-yeah, see you later y/n–” You smile one more time before leaving, heart racing at a concerning speed- not only because of the interaction but because it was with Heeseung, the guy you told yourself was your friend– the one you were trying so hard to convince over.

“Okay what the hell was that–” Jake says, eyeing his friend, “What was what?” Heeseung questions, chuckling,

“That whole..pathetic act thing.” He says, gesturing to Heeseung. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jake laughs, “Man—it’s just both of you huh?” Heeseung shakes his head before turning back to his monitor.

Yeah, whatever that means, anyways what he really needs to focus on is finishing this up– after all this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

-

Heeseungs been busy all week, specifically with finishing up the programming dynamics– or whatever it was he said.

Yet he still offered to make you a video explaining what was happening in your physics class, mostly because you refused to be tutored by anyone else besides him. A part of him felt prideful when you admitted that actually.

The event was being held in the nicer part of the University, a sort of auditorium type of building.

And yet here he is, in the dimly lit computer lab, trying to make sure everything runs perfectly once again. He can’t afford a fuck up, not when hes been waiting for this for so long. 

Jake: dude where are u

Jake: profs looking for u

Jake: u better not be second guessing this

Heeseung: i just wanted to make sure it ran smoothly

Heeseung: im coming back

Jake: hurry up

Jake: y/ns here

Jake: shes asking where you are

Jake: shes walking towards me

Jake: oh shit

“Where's Heeseung?” you ask the boy who you know as Jake, Heeseung's best friend. “Hes uh–” You raise a brow,

“He's in the computer lab, he’s nervous as shit right now and he thinks going through it again is going to help.” You nod, of course he would be. 

Jake looks back down at his phone before typing a quick message

Jake: Good luck

You open the door to the computer lab quietly, the only screen on being towards the front of the room, bright in the dim lighting.

Hes standing up, leaning against the desk, wearing a..suit jacket? “Hee?” You question, walking down the row, he turns to you, surprise etched across his features. 

“Y/n– you came..” He says, looking down at your outfit for a split second, a short summer dress that compliments you a bit too well, he swallows, hand hovering over the mouse.

“Of course I did,” You reply, now standing in front of him. “You’re..pretty dressed up,” You note with a smile. He looks down at his outfit, “Is it too much? I wanted to wear something that would make them take me seriously– y’know what I mean?” He says, smoothing down the black blazer. “Heeseung.” 

His eyes fall on you again, “Yes?” he says quietly. “You look good, okay?” He nods, “Maybe just lose the blazer..” He stifles a laugh “See, I knew it was too much,”

He shakes his head, smile on his face as he unbuttons it, leaving him with a white button up instead. “Better?” He asks, looking for your approval, “Much better.”

His eyes search yours for a moment, “I'm really glad you showed up,” He says, biting his lip out of pure nervous habit, yet you can’t help the way your eyes fall to the action.

You clear your throat, “I brought something for you– I was going to wait till after but maybe it would help cool your nerves.” You say, pulling something out of your bag.

“Okay before you say anything– Sunoo is like really good at finding all this underground stuff and this guy was selling these and I know you were talking about it a few weeks ago..” He tilts his head, amusement spread across his features,

“Who's rambling now?” You roll your eyes, “Shut up and close your eyes or I'm not giving it to you.” He raises his hands instantly, “Alright– alright, sorry,” You grab his hand, placing the box in it. 

He chuckles “What is this–” , “Open,” You watch his face, the surprise spreading, “Holy–” He smiles, “Y/n, how did you–” You attempt to hide your own smile, biting your lip.

He looks at the limited addition Toy Story figurine closer, “Do you– do you know how rare this is? Only 500 were made in 1999–”

Right.. Because of course he would know that. He laughs, disbelieving “You’re incredible, seriously–y/n I..” He doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around you, you’re caught off guard at first, one of your hands trailing up to run through the back of his hair, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You don’t know if you’re just feeling things but you swear he planted a small kiss just between your shoulder blade and neck, He pulls back, "I'm really happy you’re here,” He says, turning off the monitor and falling into step beside you.

You watch Heeseung from the crowd, hand clutched tight around the strap of your bag as he talks off to the side–with Clair. Why the hell is she touching his arm– He looks past her shoulder, spotting you in the crowd, a small smile quirking on his lips before he waves. Your face softens before waving back, 

“I was talking to the developers and they were describing the concepts they were looking for–Heeseung, your game fits right into it.” Jake says, Clair opens her mouth to say something but Heeseung doesn’t even realize he's blocking it out. “Okay– I can do this.” He nods, smoothing down the front of his button up.

He looks around the room at the people sitting down, a mix of students, professors, people from the Gaming development club. Jake watches the worried expression on his face as his eyes land on the front row, the developers– big time CEO’s with their notebooks out, laptops open. “Hey–you’re good..just don’t pass out,” Jake says with a laugh

“That’s helpful.” Heeseungs mutters, wiping his sweat clad hands on his jeans before stepping onto the wide stage, standing behind the podium.

He takes a deep breath, signaling Jake to put the game on the large screen behind him. “Hi everyone– my name is Heeseung, so..this is my game I developed.” 

He tries not to cringe at his own voice, “So, it’s actually more narrative driven rather than pre set choices,” He pauses for a moment, “Whatever decisions the player makes– that's what would affect the character in real time,” He says, his voice carrying a tad bit more enthusiasm.

This is what he knows, this is what he's good at, he picks up the remote on the podium moving onto the next slide, showing the actual game play, the code, what he created on his laptop now being shared in front of a room full of people. “I programmed the system to keep track of the patterns and players choices,” 

He's using his hands to exaggerate now–a thing he does when he's truly passionate about something. You can’t help the smile that plays on your face.

He continues, talking about how the games programming, the code, and a few of the developers lean forward, he swallows, trying not to think too deeply.

His character designs come on the screen next, hushed whispers around you, “How does someone even design that–” A guy next to you says, “Look how detailed the one on the left is–” A girl whispers. 

He looks at the screen before searching the crowd for you, clearing his throat, “The character designs are actually still in progress but I wanted to focus on them feeling real– throughout the gameplay especially, whether it's a fight scene, a task, you name it.” 

Your eyes fall to the developers at the front of the room, nodding, taking notes. It’s silent for a moment until a voice cuts through, one of the developers speaks up, “Walk us through the character tracking system again,” He says– Heeseung nods, this means they're interested, 

“Yeah–okay,” You watch Heeseung get into his element, it’s like the room loosens up as he continues, some people from the crowd raising their hands to ask questions, even compliments directly from the developers. But there's still a tightening feeling in your chest, in the way you’re here supporting him–but as nothing more than a friend.

It’s places like these that you’re not really sure what to do, you watch as Heeseung talks to a few other students, low and behold–with Clair by his side. He searches the room for a moment, but is interrupted when a man in a very nice suit comes up to him, 

“Lee Heeseung?” He questions, Heeseung nods, “Yes sir, that would be me,” He says with an almost nervous smile on his face, “I wanted to give you my card, your game has potential– I mean that truly, and I think you could go places with creativity like that,” The man says, Heeseung reaches out for the card, looking down at it for a moment, “Wait– EN Capital? This– you’re one of the biggest developers in the country–” Heesueng states, eyes wide,

The man nods, “It’s not everyday we scout someone like this Heeseung, so please, take into consideration giving us a call,”

Heeseung nods, “Sir– yes, I’ll definitely be calling–” He says through a disbelieving chuckle. The man nods with a smile on his face before reaching out to shake Heeseung's hand, “I’m excited to see how you progress.”

Heeseung looks around the large room again, “..fucking genius dude, I swear.” Jake says, the words completely blanking in Heeseung's mind,

“Where's y/n?” He says outloud, Jake raises a brow, “One of the most prestigious gaming developers in the country just told you to quote ‘give him a call’ and you’re wondering where the girl who pretty much broke your heart is?” Jake questions, 

Heeseung opens his mouth to speak, but shakes his head, “I need to find her– I invited her,” Heeseung mutters, “She went outside” Jake says, nodding towards the door. Heeseung's eyes follow the motion. “I’ll um.. I’ll be right back” Heeseung mumbles, moving past Jake, “Dude what about–” 

Heeseung makes his way out the room, looking around for you“Y/n–” He calls out, you let go of the door you were just about to walk out of, turning towards him,

“Hey,” You say with a smile, “Where are you going?” He asks, walking up to you. “I was going to head back, I didn’t want to like interrupt or anything,”

“You could never,” He says, watching your face, “You seemed pretty occupied though, not just with the developers..” He tilts his head, “Occupied with who?” He tests, searching your eyes,

“I dunno’.. Clair” He smiles, “What?” You say defensively, “No– nothing, nothing,” He says, a laugh escaping his lips.

“It’s just—are you jealous?” He asks, “I..what?” He nods, humming in response. “I’m not—stop laughing!” You say, slapping his arm lightly. 

“Heeseung–” You nearly roll your eyes, actually no, you do roll your eyes as Clair approaches him. You watch as people begin to file out of the auditorium. Her eyes land on you for a split second, “We were all gonna go hang out at my place to celebrate and everything, do you wanna–” 

“No–” He says too quickly, “I mean– I just, I’m really tired and uh..” He looks at you for a moment, “Im busy” you watch the disappointment across her face.

“Heeseung, if you want to you can..” You say, low enough for him to hear. “No, I want to be with you tonight– I mean right now, like I want to spend time with you” He runs a hand through his hair,

“Look, maybe some other time,” He says to Clair, she scoffs before walking past the both of you. Jake comes up a few moments later, “We’re doing something after if you wanna join, ill text the address,” He says, giving Heeseung his bag, “I’ll let y’know,” Jake shrugs before walking out. 

Heeseung turns his full focus back to you “I can walk you back to your place if you would like?” He says, clearing his throat. You nod, “I would like that,”

He smiles before falling into step beside you. “Y’know, I’m really happy you came tonight– I know I said it already but you probably don’t go to things like that for fun,” He says through a chuckle

You nod, "I've seen how hard you’ve worked on it Hee, plus its the least I can do for you tutoring me and all,” He glances down at you,

“I think you repaid me enough for the lessons” He pauses, “Like- with your kindness not the–” He closes his eyes for a moment, ”Not the other thing– even though yes it was definitely good, I mean I still think about..” He stops, “Sorry—fuck, Y/n please just tell me to shut up.” He cringes at his words,

You can’t help the smile that plays on your face, “Why? It’s kind of cute” 

Thank god you don’t look up to notice the embarrassing shade of red his ears are right now. He pauses once he gets in front of your building, hands awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. “So….”

“Do you want to come in?” You ask abruptly, catching him off guard. “L-like inside your apartment?” He asks, unsure.

You nod once, “Just like—I have that ramen, the one with buzz lightyear on it.” 

Your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. “..I honestly thought you would have gotten rid of that” He says, searching your face. You shake your head, “I couldn't," You say quietly, and a little bit more shy than intended. “Okay– um, yeah I would love to come in then,” He nods, following you. 

And he means it when he says he’ll never get over the way it smells exactly like you in here. He takes off his dress shoes, placing them neatly against your wall by the front door, next to your platformed sandals that you kicked off casually. 

He leans against your counter as you reach up into your cabinet, his eyes trying to avoid the way your already short dress rides up even higher on your exposed legs. Your hand pauses mid air before you bring it back down to your side, “Do you need help–”

“Heeseung.” You turn to fully face him, he pauses mid sentence, “Yea–Yeah?” He questions, clearing his throat. “Are we seriously about to make ramen right now?” He rubs the back of his neck “I mean-I thought that's what we were doing..” His words catch in his throat when you close the distance.

His eyes fall to your lips and you smirk, “What are you thinking about right now then?” He visibly swallows, licking his own lips instinctively

“Just how good they would taste–” He blinks once, “..The ramen—how good the ramen would taste.” He says, clearing his throat. You hum in response, eyes dropping just below his waistband, he catches that easily. “Yeah? Just the ramen huh?” You say, that familiar teasing tone in your voice that he hasn’t heard for far too long.

“I– What are you doing..” He breathes out, trying to calm the rapid pace of his heartbeat even as you step closer, “You haven’t thought about this– about us recently?” You tilt your head, watching his face for a reaction.

“Of course I have!” He says quickly, “I– y/n it’s all I could fucking think about, just you, touching me, talking to me–like actually telling me about things..” He lets out a chuckle, almost disbelieving, like he wasn’t planning on admitting this, which to be fair he wasn't. 

“Do you know how long I've wanted you?” He asks, you nod “Since the tutoring–” He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips,

“No, econ, 4th row. You were wearing that long sleeve and jeans that fit you perfectly, and I remember you had asked me if I always talk like my brain moved too fast,” He laughs at the memory, “...and you had said almost every day,” you finish for him.

“I know you try to be perfect y/n– I know the expectations you have for yourself, and I know that it leaves no room to actually breathe,” He doesn’t know where this is coming from– but then again, he always talks before his brain processes what he's saying,

“because I have those same expectations for myself– I mean, I'm not as good at it as you but I do.” He sighs, “But when I'm with you– it's different and I guess I was hoping it was the same for you–”

His words are immediately cut off when your lips press against his, your right hand pulling at the collar of his shirt. His eyes flutter shut, melting into you completely, his hands are hesitant–unsure as they come to rest on your waist. You don't pull back far, just enough to whisper “it is the same for me Hee– I always felt it I just.. I guess I didn’t think I deserved it.”

He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lips, “Well if it means something– I think you do..” you laugh softly, raking your other hand through his soft hair. 

“You still want that ramen?” You ask teasingly, he shakes his head quickly “No–no definitely not I want this, here,” He says confidently, you tilt your head, your hand that was on his collar moving lower skimming over his toned chest, cupping the firm bulge of him through his jeans. His eyebrows furrow together at the contact, “Hee, don’t tell me you’re hard just from a little kiss?” You say with a smirk,

He shakes his head, eyes shutting for a moment, “I can’t help it–” He whispers pathetically. You squeeze the bulge and his mouth falls open,

“Gosh.. I seriously don’t understand how you just walk around with a dick this big everyday like it’s nothing,” his face reddens at how filthy your words are.

“Feel how bad I want you right now,” You say, grabbing his hand from your waist, he complies, letting you guide his hand between your legs, he lets out a broken sound when his palm fully cups you. 

You grind down on his palm once, his dick throbs at the contact–the way he can feel you soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear. You hike your dress up so you can move  your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him completely, “Fuck–” He curses, his finger tips brushing through your folds experimentally. You moan at the contact– uncontrolled and all for him,

“Just like that– Hee..” You brace your hands on his shoulders when his fingertip grazes your clit, “Right there?” He asks curiously, a part of him needing to get this right because he needs to make you feel good.

You nod, biting your lip when he experimentally squeezes your clit between his index and middle finger, making you even more wet,

He chuckles, “It's– it’s kind of hard because it's so wet” He notes, the pad of his finger tips teasing your hole unknowingly.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, he notices “I like it” He says, watching your face morph into pleasure, “Why—why are you so good at this?” You breathe out,

“I use my fingers a lot—for like typing and stuff, coding y’know?” You moan when the tip of his middle finger enters your hole cautiously, his eyebrows raise. “Y-yeah right” 

He repeats the motion, this time using the opportunity to push deeper, you clench around his fingers and he feels his cock throb inside of his jeans, “its so…warm” He notes, “Try curling your finger–” Your words fade into a whimper when he does exactly that,

“Hee..Heeseung–wait,” He repeats the motion again, brushing inside of you with each curl of his slender finger. 

“Not here–” You breathe out, your grip tightening on his shoulder. “Your room?” He questions, inching his finger out, you nod,

“…you’re so pretty” He says sitting on the edge of your bed, “Yeah?” You ask, watching him move back until he's against your pillows. “What do you want, Heeseung?” He swallows, "Whatever you give me honestly–” 

“Ever had a girl ride you?” You ask, climbing on the bed with him, legs tucked under you as you settle between his legs. He shakes his head a bead of sweat forming just above his eyebrow.

“I kind of like that I'm the only one who's seen you like this,” You say, finger tracing innocent circles on his thigh. “I like it that way” He admits, avoiding looking down at the embarrassing way his dick twitches at the featherlight touches his thigh.

“Cute,” You say with a sweet smile, opposite of the way your fingers make contact with the buttons on his shirt. You remove it with ease, the slightly sharp tip of your nail sending heat straight to his dick as you trace his abdomen.

You lean down, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest, his hands grip into the sheets of his bed when your tongue ghosts over his nipple, “Fuck– y/n..I can’t–” His hips buck forward, searching for any form of friction

“Ive been wanting you inside me for so long Hee,” His eyes roll when your hand comes in contact with his cock, even through the jeans you can feel the heat of him. “Wanna feel you so bad– I need it..I can’t–” He whines, you sit up, watching as he frantically works to take off his jeans. 

You move from between his legs, pulling the straps of your dress down, letting it fall limply to the floor. His own hand palms his cock through his boxers when he sees you’re not even wearing a fucking bra.

“Please–can I?” He asks, watching as you climb back on top of him. You chuckle “Acting like you’ve never seen my tits before Heeseung,” 

“Been too long–” He says desperately, his hand hesitating, looking at you for approval before he touches you. You nod and both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. He’s almost massaging them in his hands, “I- I can’t believe you’re letting me do this..” He whispers, thumb swiping over your nipples, you grind down once against him and his movements falter–

“I’ll cum if you keep doing t-that” He regrets admitting that when you do it again, drawing a wrecked sound from him. His ears heat up in embarrassment at how loud he is, Your hand comes up to his cheek, “Don’t be embarrassed Hee– I love when you’re vocal for me,” He leans into the way you touch his face, the action making you feel even more warm inside.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he presses a kiss directly to your nipple, his thumb working the other one. He’s not quite sure what he's doing– this just feels right. His tongue darts out, slightly unsure, licking just around the sensitive bud. “H-Hee..” Your hand moves to his hair, raking through the soft strands, pulling him closer. 

“I want this so bad..” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks on your nipple. You hiss when his teeth graze it, tugging his hair, he groans at the pull. He alternates to the other side, not wanting to leave a single part of your body untouched. “I could do this forever– I swear I could,” You grind your hips down harder against him, “D-don’t–” He whimpers, looking up at you. 

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, moving your hips in a back and forward motion, the tip of his dick hitting you perfectly through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Gonna cum?” You ask between kisses, he nods frantically, tongue darting out, begging for entry back into your mouth. 

You pull away and he whines, hand glued to your chest. You shake your head with a smile before reaching for the waistband of his boxers, you peel them off, revealing his flushed cock, now resting heavy on his pelvis, precum already drooling down. You lick your lips, already moving to slide off your own underwear. 

He's watching in awe– because you are actually in front of him right now– naked, practically fucking glowing. When you wrap your hand around the base, he automatically thrusts up, easy to do with how wet it is. “Needy much?” You tease, moving your hand up slowly, thumb swiping over the tip, causing another drop of precum to leak, making a further mess on your hand. 

“I c-can’t help it..” He mutters out, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat already. You hover over him, angling the tip of his cock, you swipe it through your folds once–twice, mixing both of your arousal together, the warmth already draws a moan from him. “W-wait..” He says, hand reaching for your wrist.

You pause, looking at him, “Don’t we need a– um.. Condom?” You tilt your head, amusement on your face, “I’m on the pill Hee, plus I want you to cum inside of me.” You’re going to kill him, like he’s actually going to pass out right now. 

You position his tip just before your entrance, before sinking down. The stretch is almost immediate, your pussy greedily sucking him in. “Oh my God–” His eyes flutter shut, hands reaching out to hold onto your hips. “Y-you’re so big Heeseung–” You’re already clenching around him, his hips involuntarily thrust up and you whimper,

“Shit–sorry, y/n..oh—” You sink down further, completely enveloping his thick cock inside of you. Your hands are braced against his chest now, “A-are you okay?” He asks, voice rough. You laugh lightly causing you to clench tightly around him. You experimentally grind your hips forward, both of your moans mixing together. 

His hands wander, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as you grind against him. He nearly chokes on air when you lift yourself up halfway just to slam back down against him, his finger digging deeper into your hips– “Y/n– wait!” You repeat the movement and thats when you feel it– warmth inside of you. 

His eyes are wide in worry– “I-Im sorry.. Im sorry–please” a whimper leaving his lips as cum leaks from his still hard dick. “Shhh.. it’s okay Hee,” He shakes his head, “I promise I can go longer– I just need to practice more” He tries to convince you, but you’re already set on making him cum again.

You lean back, spreading your legs wider, hands splayed behind you on his thighs to support yourself. You lift your hips, causing his cum to leak out of you and trickle down his length, making an even bigger mess. It’s so messy but he could care less,

His cum acts as lube, allowing you to move even more smoothly, the sounds coming from the both of you are borderline pornographic, the wet skin on skin every time you slam your hips back down against his. 

Your mouth hangs open, desperate moans escaping as you bounce on his dick, “Heeseung–” You cry out, grinding against him, the tip of his cock hitting just right inside of you, “You look so pretty right now–” He says through a needy whine, his eyes don’t know what to focus on– the way your tits move each time you grind forward, your face, or where you two connect right now.

He tries something– moving his finger from your hip, applying pressure to your puffy clit instead, your hips jerk forward, pussy clamping tight around him. The rhythm you had moments ago falters, replaced by desperate grinds against him as you chase your orgasm, his thumb rubs small circles on your sensitive bud, “I’m gonna cum Hee– I can’t” You cry out, leaning forward again, bracing your hands on his chest “Yes– fuck, please use me–” His thumb still works, his own hips attempting to thrust up, your nails scratch at his chest as a new wave of pleasure crashes over you.

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your jaw, his dick throbbing inside of your warmth, your juices leaking down, covering his balls and making a mess on your sheets. His hands travel from your hair, smoothing it down to your back, “I’m gonna’ cum again–please?” He says, looking up at you. His dick twitches inside of you when you nod, his hands cup your ass in his hands, lifting you slightly– again, he’s trying to find his rhythm here too, contemplating if this is right, but it feels amazing.

He thrusts up once, earning a surprised gasp from you, he could fucking explode with the way your tits bounce in his face, the wet sounds filling your room contrast with both of your moans, his fading into whimpers as his hips move faster, almost using your hole as his own fuck toy. He captures one of your nipples in his mouth, his sounds muffled around the sensitive bud, the vibration sending shockwaves straight to your core.

“S-slow down–Hee.. Shit!” He's practically drilling into you, completely lost in the feeling of you, the sounds you're making–your face driving him even more. He pulls you down against him each time his hips lift forward, his tongue licking at your chest desperately. His grip on you is bruising as he delivers one final thrust–deep, the feeling of his cum spilling inside of you, driving your second orgasm, your pussy milking him dry as your own juices mix with his. 

His hands move from your ass to your waist, resting gently, soothing your sides as you both catch your breath. “That–that was..” Heeseung says, “Yeah,” You breathe, fingers running lazily through his soft hair. 

Eventually you two muster the strength to get up, your sensitive bodies still tingling with the nerves of pretty much the best sex you’ve ever had. 

You watch him closely as he reaches for a soft tissue from the pink box on your nightstand, he may be inexperienced in this field but he's not an idiot. “Is this okay?” He asks, cleaning you up– you nod,

“Are you okay?” He looks up at you for a second, “I–” he takes a deep breath before continuing “I don’t want this to be casual,” He says, eyes focused on gently swiping the tissue. Your face softens, “I don’t want it to be like before with the whole ‘favor for tutoring’ thing– I like you, really like you– if you couldn’t tell..” He bites his lip nervously,

“Is this your way of asking to be my boyfriend Lee Heeseung?” This time he looks up, “You would let me?” he asks, a sparkle of hope in his eyes, “I– this isn’t how I wanted to ask you, I need to get you flowers and—and a date,” He runs his hand through his slightly damp hair, you let out a small laugh,

“Calm down Hee, I really like you too,” You say through a smile. “..and yeah, I would let you..” He mirrors your smile, relief on his face as you pull him down—because being here, tangled with you, is exactly where he wants to be

-

Bonus

Heeseung would normally be spending his Friday night in his room, probably waiting for league to load in while he scrolls through the most random twitter threads. But being with you allows him to.. Step out of his shell more, even if it is involuntarily.

What was supposed to be a small hangout that consisted of a few of your friends and probably Jake to celebrate finals week ending, had turned into a big gathering at your local Korean BBQ place. Jake being Jake decided to invite nearly everyone from class after raving about how they “changed the menu”.   

His eyes stray to you, laughing at something that Sunoo said, Yunjin on the other side of him playfully shoving him. “..Hey, i’m headed out” Clair says, walking over to where Heeseung stands. You watch as she…hugs him. His hand awkwardly pats her back and you swear you could throw the chopsticks in your hand at her stupid face. “Bye everyone!” She says with a bright smile, you roll your eyes, watching as she leaves. 

Yunjin and Sunoo exchange a look, “Don’t kill her,” Sunoo says, laughing nervously. “Never said I would.” You mutter glancing at Heeseung, he offers a small wave, smile on his face. You scrunch your nose in a mocking way before turning back to your friends. 

Fuck.

“…yeah, well your face says it all,” Yunjin adds, amusement in her tone. “I don’t even care,” Sunoo laughs, earning a glare from you. “Yeah–right, are you gonna eat that?” He asks pointing to the three bites of food on your plate, you scoot it away from him, “Now I am,” You say with a smug smirk, earning a laugh from Yunjin.

You try– you really do, you know jealousy is something you need to work on, but no you’re not jealous right now, totally not at all!

Heeseung looks at you every few minutes– maybe seconds, there's no way you’re upset over a..farewell goodbye..right?

The walk back to his place is quiet. Not the comfortable silence you enjoy yourself in, but the kind where you can feel the tension. Specifically he can feel it–practically radiating off of you. “Is everything good?” He asks, watching you. When your eyes don't even find his, he swallows, lump in his throat. “It’s fine.”

Well shit, “fine” isn’t exactly what a guy wants to hear, why not “great”, or “fantastic” something so his brain can stop spiraling. You nearly scoff when he pulls out his phone. 

He’s pathetic–seriously, he winces before clicking the search bar on twitter: How to get your girlfriend to not be pissed at you

He doesn’t even say anything as you both enter his apartment, you roll your eyes as he walks to his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. “Seriously Heeseung?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. He scrolls one more time before looking up at you with wide eyes, “Baby– hold on a second–” He mutters, 

“What are you even looking at?” You ask, attitude leaking through your tone. He shuts his eyes for a moment, “You’re mad at me,” he claims, avoiding eye contact. “And I– I was trying to figure out how to not make you mad at me– it’s stupid and I know it was because of..” , “Clair.” You finish his sentence for him. 

He nods, “I don’t even like her– seriously, like the only reason I have to be around her is because of the club and she’s in me and Jungwon's class–” You roll your eyes, “She’s literally obsessed with you– like it’s so fucking annoying everytime and she knows me and you are together.” His eyebrows furrow together, “I know, trust me I know–” He says, pulling you close, arms wrapping around the back of your thighs. 

“Well I'm not mad directly at you Hee..” You mumble quietly, he looks up at you, “But you’re still upset” He says, hands unintentionally gripping the back of your thighs. “And how exactly was the internet going to help fix that?” You ask lightly, hand running through his disheveled hair.

“I dunno’ it was stupid..” he mutters, reaching for his phone. He scrolls through the threads, angling it to show you. “Get on your knees and beg?” You chuckle, “I’d do it if you asked,” He says casually, “Flowers?” , “In a heartbeat,” His fingers freeze at the next words, Let her sit on your face. You know he's read it when he looks up at you. Your eyes fall to his lips, then to his nose– that perfect slope. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing. “We haven’t really tried it like…that–” He says, wetting his lips. 

“No, we haven't." He nods, slowly. “You said my nose was one of your favorite features about me, remember?” You chuckle lightly, “Of course I remember that.” His hands travel up slowly, casually in a way he’s gotten more comfortable doing ever since you two made it official, his hands ultimately resting on your ass. 

“..so, shouldn’t we put it to good use?” He questions, looking up at you expectantly. A smile spreads across your face, “Since when did Lee Heeseung become such a smooth talker?” He bites his lip through a smile, “it’s only for you pretty,”

He's watching you now, eyes zeroed in on your hands as they lift your shirt over your head. Your shorts are next, but he makes a sound when your underwear also comes off with them. Bare. You’re bare in front of him, your face flushing that adorable shade of pink he can’t get enough of. 

“C’mere,” You climb onto the bed with him until you're hovering just over his chest. “Heeseung– I don’t want to like… hurt you” His hands are already on your waist, attempting to tug you upwards. “You’re not– I want this” 

The look in his eyes is hungry, you hesitate for a moment before moving forward, until your knees are bracketed beside his head, your pussy right above his face. “Baby–” He breathes out, pulling you flush against his face. 

You gasp at the feeling, sure Heeseung's eaten you out before–plenty of times, but this– this is different. “Oh..fuck–Heeseung!” Your hands are in his hair, pulling the soft strands, he groans into your pussy, pure pleasure. 

His hands are gripping onto your ass, pulling you against him, He pulls off with a wet pop, “Ride my nose– come on, you know you want to,” He urges, giving a teasing lick to your clit. You hum out a response, eyes rolling when he nuzzles into your pussy, the bridge of his sharp nose hitting just right on your sensitive clit each time you move your hips forward slightly. His eyes are shut, completely lost in the feel– the smell of you so close to him. 

He pulls you back down, tongue prodding at your entrance, your hole desperately clenching–searching for fulfillment, and he gives it, he thrusts his tongue in and out of you the best he can, hands massaging your ass, nose applying pressure exactly where you need it. 

“I can–” He slurps once, the noise filthy in your bedroom, “I can never get enough of this–” His tongue flicks over your clit, alternating between sucking, teasing you through pursed lips. “Hee.. I–im gonna cum..” your plea encourages him more. He looks up at your face, your head thrown back, tits bouncing in that light pink bra, mouth hung open, face in pure pleasure.

There's no rhythm, just hunger as he devours you, your grip tightens in his hair as you reach your orgasm, your legs going weak, grinding on his mouth, he holds you there, not letting you up until every last drop of cum is drained out of you, his tongue moving in slow licks over your overstimulated clit, the feeling making your hips jerk. He kisses your pussy once, twice, gentle–completely different from the way he was just tongue deep inside of you.  

You settle on his stomach, still dripping, some getting onto his shirt but he could care less. “That was–” 

“Amazing.” He finishes for you, licking his lips. 

“You’re crazy.” You mumble, a shy smile already on your face.

“Only for you,” he whispers, hands traveling up your waist, your back, urging you to be even closer to him.

-

Nerd gamer heeseung come emp (Im not even joking)

perm taglist 13/50: @nishirikiluvr @kristynaaah @isa942572 @miemiem9 @ni-k1ttie @mystgene @gloiirte @cokewithcameron @cinnampngirl @xeiramz @enhatorous @hyuckzcult @stwryun

taglist I full: @voucearse @supahintohoon @wvndrls @misolhee @miyeonprincessu @v-irtujake @wonscrchy @cherryw0n @pqrkjyx @ateez-atiny380 @luucortis @iwtfpsh @foreveronez @chaostudee @rayofsunshineeee @yunkivamp @miemiem9 @gloiirte @jakekshh @seungiesdoll @heecinnamonroll @heef41ry @mheretoreadff @cutehoons02 @adorenishimura @hoonlvrrz @heeseungsgf26 @bambheexee @heehoonki1009 @nithxhoon @bingka @nobodybutyourslove @jvngw0nlvr @lovingsublimecrusade @enhaholicfan @shadesofc00l @fancypeacepersona

[jaehyp]

𝖤𝖭𝖧𝖸𝖯𝖤𝖭 𝖥𝖨𝖢 𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖲 ⸝⸝

∿ my reqs r closed but yall kept asking for fic recs of certain members and tropes so ive decided to put it all tgt plus add some that i like. enjoy and ofc shoutout to the authors! mdni

𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

⋆ what you need (7.9k) ∿ sneaky link hee

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⋆ making progress (28.7k) ∿ inexperienced nerd hee

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[jaehyp]

woah 2k thank uuu

[milestoone]

GIVEN OR TAKEN [1/2]

SUMMARY: It's time for Yang & Co.'s CEO to retire, and Jungwon, his son, thinks he has the successor role in the bag. Unfortunately for him, he'll only be able to take over if he not only secures the company's biggest deal to date, but also proves himself a better choice than you, the one other person his father considers fit for the coveted title, and, to his dismay, his partner on the case.

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, f!reader, jungwon is reader's biggest hater, LOTS of arguing esp at the beginning, dramatic irony, slowburn, Jake catches some strays, revelations (more than one), dual POV, it’s Mr Yang’s world we’re just living in it WC: 14.7k - MASTERLIST

a/n: didn't want to split this into two parts but if i don't post at least some of it now, then it'd never get finished. apologies for any inaccuracies regarding business/legal jargon & happy reading!!

---

Anyone who has ever worked alongside Jungwon would say he is one of the best, if not the best, out there. And why wouldn’t he be? His father, the CEO and founder of Yang & Co., has instilled in him the values and expectations of a successful businessman since day one.

He was taught everything he’d need to know, all in the hopes of being named the company's successor when the time came. Or at least, that’s what Jungwon had assumed his whole life.

Perhaps he should have also taken to heart another message his dad had taught him: never assume things, because it puts the ass in you and me.

“Let me get this straight. You are not going to appoint me as the CEO once you retire.”

“It hasn’t been confirmed yet, no.”

“Bullshit!”

This was not how this meeting was supposed to go at all. Jungwon had expected it to be the usual run of the mill, like a performance report, or a discussion about new publications. He had no idea he’d be finding out that his father was looking to retire, and that he might not end up being the one to take over.

“Look, son,” Mr. Yang sighs, not the least bit impressed with the choice word that just came out of his boy’s mouth, face weighed down by exhaustion, his forehead lines deepening in tandem with his frown. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the corporate world.”

“What a load of cr—”

A sharp look from his father sends Jungwon’s lips slamming shut. “Did I say I was finished speaking?”

“No… sir.” His head ducks down in a small bow, hands curling against his knees. Fuck. He despises this.

“Alright. As I was saying, there’s a lot you don’t yet understand about what it means to run a business,” Mr. Yang pauses, watching his son carefully as he says his next words. “You must be passionate about what you do; you must truly devote yourself to the mission of the company.”

Jungwon cannot believe his ears. Is he really saying that to him of all people? The rage that had been simmering underneath the surface nearly boils up, and the younger man cannot help but sneer venomously, “Oh yeah? Pray tell, who else in this damn building has been more devoted than I? I’ve done nothing else with my life but work here!”

He stands abruptly, patience shot. How dare he. How dare his own father undermine the role he’s played in the growth of the company, and all the time and effort he’s thrown into Yang & Co. “There is no one more deserving than me for your position, and you know it.”

He feels slighted, betrayed, even. What was the point of having a child if you weren't going to play the nepo card and hand them your business? He was supposed to usher it into a new golden era of even more success, or be named on the Forbes 30 under 30 list, or even give a Ted Talk!

Nothing but a long sigh escapes his father’s lips as he crosses his fingers over his desk, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry son, but that is just not true. There is one other employee who I would be proud to hand over the title to.”

“Really now,” Jungwon says through gritted teeth, looming over his old man. “Enlighten me then, father. Who is it?”

The second he hears your name leave the current CEO’s mouth, something hot and violent surges through his veins, anger unlike anything he’s felt before breaking through and clawing its way up his throat. He’s so angry he laughs. It’s not a real laugh, obviously. It’s shallow and empty, but the sheer stupidity of someone with his own flesh and blood in this moment yields that sort of reaction, he supposes.

Of course. Of course it’s fucking you.

You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day you met, and considering the fact that you were part of the same hiring cohort as him, he can confidently say that his entire career experience has been tainted with malice. To make matters worse, he’s pretty certain that if given the chance, you’d be adopted into his family without hesitation. Mr. Yang adores you, for reasons unknown to him. Not a single positive adjective comes to mind when it comes to you. Words like cunning and fake however… Those seem to describe you perfectly.

“Her? You’re joking.”

If he had it his way, you would be last on the list of possible candidates. Hell, even Jake would rank higher than you, and that’s saying something. No offence to Jake, he's a real G and all, but he also doesn't do shit, and Jungwon often wonders how he's still employed.

“She struts around this building glued to every employee’s side, acting as though she’s everyone’s best friend.” Jungwon’s voice climbs as he speaks, exasperation bleeding into every syllable.

“Buddy buddy with the interns, buddy buddy with the janitorial staff, buddy buddy with any senior who’ll put in a good word for her when she’s ready to jump ship! And you’re telling me that’s who you want running the show around here?”

His father mumbles a quiet that’s enough under his breath, but the younger man doesn’t hear it, deafened by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. 

“No shot that many people like her! When was the last time she did her job, rather than handing task after task off to someone else on her team? She’s a leech.” His hands gesture wildly, he probably looks like a madman. “She takes and takes and takes, contributing nothing to this company, yet receiving all the flowers anyway!”

“I said that’s ENOUGH!” Mr. Yang bellows, effectively scaring Jungwon into silence. Okay, he must be really ticked off; it takes a lot to get his father to yell. “If that’s the kind of person you consider her to be, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

He rises from his seat now too, palms flat against the desk, meeting his son's gaze head-on. “She does a hell of a lot more for this company than you give her credit for, but you wouldn’t know that, because you’re too busy living in your own little world, thinking you run this place simply because you happen to be my child.”

Jungwon opens his mouth to argue, but his father raises his hand, interrupting him before he could even get a word out.

“You know, son, I’ve been lenient, turning a blind eye at your outrageous behaviour and obvious disdain for her, but when was the last time you actually tried to be civil with her? Don’t give me that look– a snide remark thrown over your shoulder does not count.”

He shakes his head, and flashes Jungwon an almost pitiful look. “Maybe if you’d try to actually get to know her, you’d realize that every assumption you've just made is wrong.”

—

If you hear any of the commotion going on inside Mr. Yang’s office, you decide it’s best to pretend that’s not the case. Although you’re used to hearing Jungwon raise his voice– having been on the receiving end of it too many times to count– the sound of his father’s shouts permeating through the door sends a shiver down your spine. Buuuuut it also sends a smirk you don’t bother biting back to your lips. After all, your biggest opp getting yelled at? That’s your wet dream right there.

When the door swings open and Jungwon finally stumbles out, you really do have to physically hold yourself back from letting that smirk widen upon seeing his current state. Face pale, he looks visibly rattled. Every muscle in his body is taut as he takes long, clipped strides to the elevator, and when he storms past you, his expression contorts into one of pure contempt, his eyes staying locked on yours long enough to make sure you see the way he mouths an unmistakable fuck you. 

What the hell did you do this time? 

Unfortunately for you, you’re in no place flip him off as you normally would, given that the CEO is within ten feet of you, leaning against the doorway and watching the entire interaction, but damn do you want to. With your lips pursed, you hold your composure until the elevator dings and he steps inside, and only then do you let yourself relax back into your seat. From across the hall, Mr. Yang’s drawn features soften as he sends you a welcoming smile, inviting you into his office next. He may be acting all casual now, but you can feel the tension oozing off of him in waves.

The cushions on the chair in his office are still warm when you plop down into them, and you can even spot remnants of Jungwon's butt imprints. Ew.

“I apologize if you heard us,” Mr. Yang says, breaking the ice. “I liked the mahogany walls so much, I couldn't bear to cover them with soundproofing…”

“Oh no! No worries sir, it must have been a pressing matter.”

“That it was, and I'm sure you’re curious as to what could have caused such a ruckus, hm?”

A sheepish grin pulls at your lips because, yeah, he clocked you. You are curious. You’re itching to know what could have made the man in front of you, a man you’ve never once seen so much as raise his voice, lose his cool, even if just for a brief period of time. “Was it obvious?”

“Only to the trained eye,” he chuckles, before exhaling deeply, smoothing down a lapel that had gone askew. “Anyway, I'll just cut to the chase: I’m planning on retiring soon.”

What? Surely you've misheard him. Judging by appearance alone, you wouldn’t suspect Mr. Yang of being anywhere near retirement age, but the more you turn it over in your head, it checks out. Yang & Co. just celebrated its golden anniversary last year, an accomplishment he’d spoken at length about during the company dinner, which means he’s either in his late seventies or earlier eighties. What a shame, you think to yourself. 

Honestly, you have been very lucky to have had the opportunity to work with such a great CEO. Respectful, patient, knowledgeable– the list goes on. He remembers the names of all your coworkers’ kids, sends holiday gifts each year with a personalized letter, and always prioritizes the worker over the work. He’s really put his life into his business, and it shows. 

But his son? The same cannot be said for him.

Your mood instantly sours when you realize that Jungwon will probably be the person taking over the position.

In other words, you're going to lose your job.

The guy hates you, and you’re pretty sure he’d get off on watching you fail in life. Seriously, he’s the biggest piece of shit you have the displeasure of knowing. You two barely interact but even the smallest things like catching a glimpse of him during the lunch hour can ruin your day. If he’s the new CEO, you might as well just qu—

“... And I want you to be my replacement.”

—it. That way, Jungwon won’t get the satisfaction of firing you first— Wait. Did Mr. Yang just say…

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re currently sitting down, your knees would have given out, and you’d be lying on the floor. Dead, or unconscious, or just in some sort of state that would warrant a call for the ambulance. He wants you to be his what after he leaves?! “Excuse me?”

“Ah, I should have worded that better,” he amends. “You, along with Jungwon, are my two strongest contenders for successor.”

Annnnd somehow that is worse, because the that means you'd be going up against his son– hatred incarnate– Jungwon, competing to run a company that already bears his last name. It's already a losing battle! If you're being honest with yourself, you don't even necessarily want to become the CEO of a company. You're perfectly content with your current level of authority. It’s not in the extremes of the corporate hierarchy, but you do close your own deals, manage projects, and have a lot of your own autonomy. You don't want to give that up.

 “Sir, with all due respect, I am not interested in that level of leadership. I really enjoy my current position, and if possible, I’d like to stay in it.”

Mr. Yang all but smiles at that, and you pretend it doesn’t scare the shit out of you. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

O…Kay? While neither good nor bad, what the hell are you supposed to make out of whatever kind of response that was?

“Allow me to elaborate,” he begins. “You’re different from my son. I don’t think there exists a reality where he would ever say what you just did.”

“Jungwon, bless him, only works here because he believes that it is his destined path as my family, to carry on the torch, or whatever he believes. And I’m not saying he is a bad businessman, not at all, but there’s no heart. It’s obvious that he doesn’t love it the way you do; I don’t think he ever has.”

He pauses for a sip of water, letting you sit with his words. Yeah, you figured Jungwon hated working here, or at the very least, his current post. No normal nor happy person would act the way he does. He's a psychopath, no test required.

“It's not so much a real competition,”  he continues, “but I want you to ignite that spark in him. Show him what it's like to actually value your work.”

“But what would that entail…” You trail off.

“I would be putting you and Jungwon on the Hybe acquisition together. I want to see how you two operate under pressure, and how well you can carry such a large deal, since that's the kind of stuff a CEO would have to do.” 

WHAT. You're at a loss for words, jaw nearly hitting the floor in shock. Your grip on the armrest tightens, knuckles going pale, as though holding onto something solid is the only thing keeping you anchored to this conversation. So the rumours were true. For years, there have been whispers of a possible acquisition in the works, but no one could ever find the source of them, or guess that Hybe would be the company getting absorbed.

“That is a huge responsibility, sir.” 

Mr. Yang leans back nodding, settling into the cushion. “Indeed. In the fifty years since founding this company, I have never staked this much. Seven billion dollars; I’m sure this acquisition will define this company for the next fifty to follow.” 

Great, so if you accept, then you'll actually have to work with Jungwon. In all the time you've been at Yang & Co., the two of you have never worked on a project together, and it should stay that way. Everyone who's ever sat through a meeting with the both of you in it knows exactly what would happen if you were actually paired up: you'd tear each other apart before the first milestone, spending every waking hour at each other's throats over things that'll have nothing to do with the project. “But sir,” you start warily. “Your son and I are not exactly…Uh…The biggest fans of each other.”

Lowering your voice, you bring your hand up beside your mouth and whisper, “He already wants me gone. If he sees me as competition, I fear I won’t make it out alive.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Yang nods. “I am well aware you two don't necessarily get along.”

Well, that's one way to put it.

“And I am sincerely sorry for putting you in this position,” he apologizes, “but it has to happen. I don't know how else to reach him. I won't retire until he shows me he cares for this company the way you do, and frankly, I'd like to retire sooner rather than later.”

“I just— what will happen to me?” you wonder aloud. "He already makes my life here difficult as it is. For all I know, he could sabotage me and ruin my reputation, and excuse the narcissism, but I care about the future of my career a lot.”

“Nothing about your role or your job security changes here, regardless of how this plays out,” Mr. Yang reassures firmly. “I need you to understand that. The goal is getting through to my son, and I wouldn't ask this of you if I thought there was another way.”

You exhale slowly, not yet fully convinced, but understanding, at least to some degree, his request. “So then… How is this going to work, exactly?”

“As the two of you are co-leading the acquisition, I'll be evaluating your performance against each other and use that to ‘decide’ who takes over from me.”

“For example,” He begins to count the points off on his fingers as he speaks. “Things like the final valuation and terms secured, how well you hit the milestones we set along the way, and how you handle it if, or when, something inevitably doesn't go according to plan."

"I will also be noting how Hybe's own leadership and their representatives respond to each of you, whether they trust you, whether they will want to keep working with you… et cetera....”

His hands clasp back together. “That is what Jungwon will believe he's being measured on, and in fairness, it is real. I do intend to watch all of it closely. But you and I both know there's a piece of this he isn't aware of, and that piece will determine whether or not he is fit to take over as CEO.”

“Mr. Yang I–”

“This decision has already been made,” he cuts in, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “I've spoken with our stakeholders and the board of directors, and they believe it can work. I apologize again for the position it puts you in, but this is business.”

He really isn’t pulling any punches. Fine, if this is your fate, then you at least deserve to know how long you’ll have to work with that demon, “Can you tell me the approximate timeline for this?”

“Half a year.”

Half a year?! Hell no. That's too short for a deal of this size, but still too long to spend anywhere near Jungwon. 

“But before you begin, you two will need to shadow each other for a week, to familiarize yourselves with each other’s workflow. After that, you’ll begin working on the acquisition.”

At this point, you’re just nodding along mindlessly, the words barely making it past the echoes of everything you've just found out. Retirement, new CEO, Hybe acquisition, seven billion dollars, six months with the worst coworker to ever walk the planet… Ding! Cue the Akira sound. Seriously, the sheer volume of information dropped on you could justify actual therapy. Good thing your job benefits would cover that.

“Understood, sir,” is all you manage to squeak out.

Mr. Yang seems to overlook your evident shock, offering you a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. I knew you’d understand.”

You nod, because there's truly nothing else left to do, and rise from your seat on shaky legs. He walks you to the door himself, and just as you cross the threshold, his hand lands on your shoulder in a firm pat. “Remember,” he adds lowly, “this stays between the two of us.”

—

Ten in the morning and Jungwon already knows that he is in for the worst day in his career. When his father informed him, not just of the Hybe acquisition, but also that you would be shadowing each other for an entire week beforehand, he just about lost it. Six months is already too long to be working with you, adding on another week is just punishment at that point. Besides, he doesn’t need you shadowing him, and sure as hell doesn’t need to shadow you. There is a clear leader between the out of you two, and you’re not even in the running. 

Why is his father torturing him the way he is? Why can’t he just hand over the company to him, leave him to take care of the acquisition, and retire, if that’s what he wants to do so badly? His precious baby boy may get charged with first or second degree murder before this is over, and then what? Both of his options will be out of the equation, and then he'd actually have to choose someone like Jake. A shudder runs through his body as he imagines how that'd turn out.

Jungwon’s broken out of his stupor when Jay sidles up beside him at the coffee machine. “Good morning.” He says.

“Morning.”

“Not trying to stir anything up, but she's here,” He whispers, and Jungwon looks up from where the coffee is pouring into his mug, to see Jay subtly tilting his head toward the end of the hall. “I thought she avoided this floor like the plague”

Following his gaze, his eyes fall on you, clipboard tucked under one arm, not looking too thrilled yourself. He rolls his eyes and mutters, “shadowing me,” under his breath before lifting his cup to his mouth and taking a sip. 

“Why?” Jay asks, brows knitted together in confusion. 

“Long story,” replies Jungwon, who quickly adds a bit of milk, before heading in your direction. He doesn’t bother with a greeting as he approaches. “Why are you just standing there? Move.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Well, Jungwon, you didn’t send me your schedule like you were supposed to, so I’m not sure where to go.”

“You have eyes, no?” he quips back sarcastically, gesturing toward the conference room down the hall, where you can already see his subordinates beginning to settle into their seats. “Notice how everyone is sitting in that room over there? Maybe you should use some common sense and follow suit.” 

He watches with triumph as your stare turns murderous and your nails dig into the edge of your clipboard. Turning, he then heads into the conference room, rudely ‘forgetting’ to hold the door open behind him, and when he hears a small oof and the sound of something banging against it, the corners of his mouth twitch upward in satisfaction. From the front of the room, he sees you find a seat right in the back, separate from everyone else. Like you should be.

Without much preamble, because he refuses to waste even a mere minute of his time talking about something stupid, like what someone did last night, Jungwon begins his meeting, launching straight into a summary of the project his team has been grinding on for the past few weeks. Their progress so far, which has been trying to secure funding from a handful of stakeholders for a new commercial building the company plans to secure before the end of the fiscal year, hasn’t been going too smoothly. He has clear expectations for his team, so of course he won’t hold back on expressing them and giving feedback on why things are going awry. And unlike some employees, he prefers to keep his sentences short, straight to the point. Again, why would he waste extra mouth energy on speaking when he could just.. not.

He sees you writing away on your clipboard, probably not even listening to what he’s saying, or understanding, honestly. It takes all his strength to not clench his fists, and he wonders what kind of bullshit you're writing about. Hopefully it’s not something stupid like, Jungwon is being too hard on his team or any other pathetic observation you'll make.

By the time the meeting wraps up and all the team members have left, Jungwon crosses the room toward where you're still seated, arms crossed over his chest. “So,” he says, and you look up expectantly, waiting for him to finish, but little do you know, he's expecting you to fill the silence for him. 

“Surprisingly,” you start, getting the hint after almost twenty seconds of nothing but intense eye contact, “you're not as awful as I was anticipating you'd be, but—”

He scoffs before you finish, he knew there would be a but. 

“—I don't like your attitude,” you continue anyway, unfazed by the interruption.

His face scrunches. “What?”

“The vibe was, like, awkward,” you note, eyeing the now empty conference room. “You're not friendly with your team at all, and every time someone asked you a question, you made it seem like they should have already known the answer. It's condescending, Jungwon, they just want clarification on their tasks.”

He tilts his head, studying you for a moment before letting out a snort. “You are so damn predictable, you know that?”

“Oh, shut up.”

"Boohoo,” he presses a hand to his chest in mock devastation, imitating the voice of a baby. “I'm so upset I see someone doing their job for once. I can't wait to watch you not do yours.”

You stand up, making your way over to the door. “I have no idea where you got that idea, but I can tell you right now, it's not true.”

“Mhm,” he calls after you. “I'll make that call when I see it with my own eyes.”

—

Shadowing Jungwon is not a job for the weak; it’s actually the fucking worst. Luckily for you, your half of the week is almost over, which means starting tomorrow he will have to follow you around, and since you’re not a dick, you’ll try (keyword: try) to treat him like an actual human with actual feelings. But being around him is exhausting. He’s constantly in a mood, taking it out on you, because you’re the closest victim in sight. That, or it’s because he hates you and loves to pick on you. 

In retrospect, the latter sounds more convincing, doesn't it?

When in his office, he doesn’t talk at all, it’s just of straight silence, like right now, for example. The two of you are hunched over Hybe's preliminary financial disclosures, trying to get ahead of the huge workload that’ll hit you after this week is over, cross referencing and flagging anything worth noting once the formal sit-downs start. It's tedious, and in regular circumstances— aka with any other colleague— you’d be communicating properly, talking things through, but seeing that this is Jungwon you're with, you’ve gone almost three hours without a single word tossed your way, him choosing instead to slide the occasional printout across the table.

Each time he does it, you have to close your eyes for three seconds and speedrun a breathing exercise in order to not freak out. You're not a damn summer intern!

“I cannot believe my father is considering you for CEO.” It pulls you out of your flow state, and he wasn’t even looking at you when he said it, spoken under his breath passive aggressively, but you guess you’ll indulge him in this conversation. 

“Me neither; I was shocked when he told me.” 

Not that it was your goal or anything, but your words do nothing to soften him. If anything, they only serve to make him angrier, his nostrils flaring as he lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the exact moment he decides to keep on the attack. “I mean, how the hell did he think of you? You have no work experience outside of this company.”

“No shit Sherlock, I was hired right out of uni! And wait, so were you, so that's a shitty argument,” you counter, “I bet if I looked at you're LinkedIn right now, this would be the only company you have listed too!”

“You wouldn't even be able see that because we're not connections on LinkedIn, so unless you have LinkedIn Premium, you can’t confirm that." He taunts. “And it's completely justifiable if that were the case for me nonetheless!”

“How?!” You choose not to address the part where he virtually did just confirm your suspicions for you himself.

“You choose to be here. I'm forced to be here. See the difference?”

“Nobody is forcing you to stay, you can quit anytime.”

He lets out an incredulous scoff, shaking his head like you've said something unbelievably naive. He has a habit of making you feel that way. “Uh huh. Maybe if your dad were the CEO of a company this huge, you'd understand me a little better.” A vein pops on his forehead. “But he's not, is he?”

“Do not bring my family into this.” Your patience is running out at a speed that could rival Usain Bolt. “They have absolutely nothing to do with this conversation.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves a hand dismissively. “I'm just saying, if we're comparing, I'm objectively the better choice.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, you pray for time to pass faster, for this day to just be over already. You wouldn’t consider yourself religious, but hey, if that’s what it takes, then so be it. Your Sunday mornings are pretty empty, now that you think about it, maybe church could liven things up a bit.

You drag a hand down your face, exhaling slowly, forcing yourself back down from the ledge he keeps trying to push you toward. God would want it that way. “Back off for once. We'll be working together for six months– yeah, I know it sucks, you don't need to make that face– so we better figure out a way to make this easier on both of us.”

Jungwon mumbles something under his breath. “What did you say?” you ask.

“Fucking nothing, okay? Get back to work,” he snaps, sharper than necessary.

Jesus. You slump back, the fight draining out of you. Mr. Yang really handed you an impossible mission. Jungwon is miserable, bitter down to his bones, and you cannot see a future where that changes, especially with you around.

The scraps of motivation you'd managed to scrounge up walking into this office this morning– and there weren’t many to begin with– have officially evaporated. You don't doubt that Mr. Yang knew just how dirty he was doing you, and you can't shake the feeling of disappointment in the man you once admired. He didn't even give you the option to decline! And out of everyone in this entire building, he chose you.

Why not Sunghoon? Why not Jay? Even Jake, as useless as he can be sometimes, at least seems to bring something out in Jungwon that resembles an actual personality. You've seen them all together plenty of times, doubled over laughing, joking around and casually chatting. They also seem to like their job enough to be a positive influence. Any of them could have done this! And they would have had an easier time of it, would have gotten further in a single afternoon than you're likely to get in these next six months. Why he chose the one employee his son cannot stand is beyond you. 

Fuuuuck. Manipulative bastard, the both of them. At least now you know it’s genetic. 

—

Jungwon knew from the first time he met you that you were trouble. When he was eight years old, his father sat him down and told him something that would end up shaping the rest of his life: most people who tried to befriend him were only doing so because of the company, because of his last name.

He wasn't wrong. 

In high school, Jungwon met an upperclassman named Heeseung, and the two of them clicked almost instantly, Jungwon coming to see the older boy as his brother from another mother. Countless afternoons disappeared into each other's company, cramped into booths at the diner two blocks from school watching the new trailers for upcoming Marvel movies. It was Heeseung who helped him sneak his father's car out of the garage late one night to teach him how to drive, fully aware of what would happen to them if they had gotten caught. He was the first person Jungwon went to for anything that mattered, who he trusted enough to hand over the messier, more complicated parts of himself

But after graduating from university, he noticed that every conversation the two of them had slowly started bending in the same direction, toward his father, the company, if any positions were opening up, or whether Mr. Yang might be willing to make a call on Heeseung's behalf. He may have been young, but Jungwon wasn’t stupid. 

Their friendship ended the day Jungwon finally confronted him, demanding to know when, exactly, his interest in him as a person had changed into interest in what he could offer. His inklings were confirmed within seconds; Heeseung barely even attempted to deny it, admitting flatly that he'd sought out the friendship in the first place because he'd known, even back then, that a connection to his father would eventually be worth something. Ever since that conversation, Jungwon has kept his circle small, rejecting anyone’s advances or offers of friendship. 

He now lives by this new rule– if he doesn’t seek you out, then forget about it.

He got lucky. In his first year at Yang & Co., he'd introduced himself to two other new employees, Jay and Sunghoon, who eventually introduced him to Jake. There were a handful of other workers over the years he'd enjoyed being around too, like this one guy named Sunoo, but they'd either transferred departments or left the company entirely, so contact with them faded.

And then there was you.

He remembers it well. You'd practically thrown yourself at him in those first few weeks, going out of your way to catch his attention, trying every possible angle to land on his good side, and when he refused to give you that, he watched you peel off and set your sights on everyone else instead, working your way steadily through the office ladder until you eventually reached exactly where he suspects you'd been aiming the entire time: his father.

Who were you trying to fool? You were a social climber, through and through, which is why Jungwon swore to himself all those years ago that he'd spend however long it took proving that to anyone who'd listen. 

Every time he looked at you, he saw Heeseung standing in your place, and that alone was enough to make the hatred he felt for you burrow in deeper year after year, with no sign of loosening its grip.

He sees him in you now too, as he stares at you from his spot against the wall. You're explaining to your group what they'll be doing whilst you're busy with the acquisition, appointing someone he often sees you with, Riki, as your substitute project manager, and it makes him so, so mad. You're just doing this to give the poor man hope that he'll one day get a promotion so he can stay longer to continue to do your job for you, aren't you? He wouldn't put it past you, given how calculated every move you make seems to be.

“Does anyone have any other questions?” You ask, looking around. 

A newer employee speaks up. “How long will you be gone for?” 

“Around six months.”

There’s a collective groan in the room, and Jungwon thinks he may have just imagined it. Are they… sad you’re leaving? If he were in their place, he’d be jumping for joy. 

“We'll try our best while you're gone,” Riki says, though he doesn’t yet have the confidence a project manager should. “Just don't forget about us.”

“Guys, I'm still going to be here," you laugh, "just working on a different project. I'm not disappearing.”

“Well, you'll be missed, you're a really great leader.”

Your face softens. “I'll miss you all too.”

You pull each of them into a quick hug on their way past as they file out of the room, one after another and it’s only when the room is empty and it’s just the two of you left, that he dares to speak. 

“So you’ve started a cult, it seems.”

You shoot him a look, unimpressed, gathering the papers and pens scattered across the table in front of you.”"Uncalled for.”

He shrugs. “I’m just glad to know you're still as manipulative as you were when you were hired.”

“Literally what the hell are you talking about?”

“It's just a little funny,” he says, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer, watching the way your jaw tightens as he nears, “how everyone likes you, is all.”

You hold your hands up in fake surrender. “My bad for being a good person.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You shove your notebook into your bag and brush past him on your way to the exit, your shoulder colliding hard with his. “I don't have time for this.”

—

Is Jungwon going to go to hell for what he's just done to you? There's a good chance. But like his father said, the position of CEO is going to whoever performs better on the acquisition deal. And how exactly are you supposed to show off your skills if you can't even make it to a meeting– the first one, no less– with the representatives from Hybe?

Okay so yeah, he lied to you about the time of the meeting. 

But that's not really his problem, is it? You should have confirmed the details with him again instead of taking his word at face value, and the fact that you didn't is entirely on you, not him. That's the difference between people who actually want something and people who just think they do. 

True winners make sacrifices, they do whatever it takes to come out on top. If you can't keep up with something this small, he snickers to himself, checking the time on his wrist tick closer to the hour, you were never cut out for something this big in the first place. 

Since this is the first meeting with Hybe’s team, it was decided the best way to meet would be over a casual lunch. The reservation starts in ten minutes, but any respectable businessperson knows to arrive early, which means if the representatives want to make a good first impression, they should be getting here now. 

“Jungwon?” Ah. Speak of the devil. 

He turns, and his eyes land on a face he hasn't seen in years and hoped he’d never have to see again. Jungwon can feel his heart drop straight through the floor and for a moment as Heeseung mirrors his stare, neither of them say anything. It's actually longer than a moment, and it gets to a point where the silence becomes genuinely uncomfortable, and the man standing beside his old friend steps forward, jutting his hand out toward the younger man. 

“Soobin,” he says. “Great to finally meet you in person.”

“Likewise,” Jungwon chokes out, reaching forward and grabbing his hand, giving it a firm shake. Turning to Heeseung, he sets his lips in a thin line, but doesn't extend him the same courtesy. “It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” the Hybe rep agrees.

“Where is your partner?” Soobin asks, glancing between the two of them warily before looking back over his shoulder toward the street. “We were told there'd be two of you today.”

Jungwon rolls one shoulder. “Not sure. I gave her the time and location.” He gestures toward the restaurant entrance before either of them can press further. “Anyway, let’s head inside.”

The hostess seats them at a table near the back. Jungwon actually feels sort of bad for Soobin, who can definitely feel the tension crackling between the two other men present. The tall guy does his best to keep things light, cracking jokes and commenting on the restaurant's wine list, really just trying to do anything to fill the awkward atmosphere between Jungwon and his partner, who seem to be locked in some kind of standoff every time their eyes meet across the table.

“So,” he pulls out a folder and setting it down in the centre of the plates. “I know this is meant to be kinda casual, but I figured we could at least touch on where things stand before the more formal sit-downs start next month.”

“Works for me,” Jungwon nods, straightening in his seat. “Where are you at on your side of things?”

“Early days still,” Soobin replies. “Our team's just started comparing your numbers against our own projections. The price you're offering is in the right range based on what we've seen so far, but the board will want a much clearer picture of the actual savings before this goes any further.”

“That tracks with where we're at as well,” Jungwon says. “We're putting together our first estimates now, too.”

Finally, after clearing his throat, Heeseung speaks. “And what are your thoughts on retention packages for our senior leadership? That's going to matter a lot to how smoothly this goes on our end. We want to make sure everyone is fairly compensated.”

“We haven't breached that topic much yet,” Jungwon states, and it's true. They've just barely begun negociations and that's the first thing on Heeseung's mind? Usually, that would be a subject for much later in the process. “But I can tell you it's not our intention to give you the short end of the stick. I'd bet on Hybe's executives staying in their roles for at least the first year, and on the topic of money... let's just say it'd be generous.”

He chooses not to mention how it's actually Yang & Co.'s leadership that will likely be dealing with the more drastic changes.

“Good to hear,” Heeseung says simply, dropping his gaze back to his water glass.

They spend the rest of the meal chatting and going over what a combined structure might look like, and whether the Hybe name survives in any form or disappears entirely under the Yang & Co. banner. Once enough time has passed and their plates have been cleared, Jungwon stands up, shaking both their hands again, before leading them out of the restaurant. When they all step out on the sidewalk together, he sees you.

You're clearly trying to enter the restaurant now, as it lines up with the time he gave you, and the second you see him exiting with the two men in tow, you freeze.

A satisfied smirk tugs on Jungwon's lips. “Oh, look who finally decided to show up? You missed the entire meeting, by the way.”

“But… what? You told me—” you sputter.

“I told you the date and time. It's your responsibility to make sure you can make it.” He interjects. Then, he turns back to Heeseung and Soobin, who are watching the scene unfold. “This is my partner, the one who was supposed to join us.”

—

You should have known.

You should have known things were too good to be true when Jungwon gave you the information about the meeting without any resistance.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

That conniving, evil, absolute waste of a—you catalogue every insult you can think of in the span of about three seconds, cycling through them so fast your brain barely registers the individual words, just the general shape of your fury. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to reach out and wipe that performative grin clean off his face with your fist, and if it weren't for the two other men with you, you would. Zero hesitation.

But you can't, so instead, you swallow it down, force your shoulders to relax, and muster up a smile, extending a hand towards them one at a time.

“So sorry about that,” you say, your voice coming out remarkably steady given the circumstances. “It's great to meet you both.”

The pleasantries wrap quickly enough after that, Soobin promising to follow up with next steps by email, and then it's just you and Jungwon again, making your way back toward the Yang & Co. building.

“You knowww,” The gremlin starts, hands sliding into his pockets, “you really should work on your poker face. You looked completely blindsided back there.”

He's goading you.

“I'm just saying, t's not exactly a great look; showing up late, flustered and unprepared.” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “They're probably going to mention it to their CEO, and he talks to my father on the regular. Word travels fast in circles like that.”

You say nothing, focusing every ounce of your energy on keeping your expression blank and your pace even, refusing to give him a single reaction, because that's exactly what he's trying to get out from you.

“Not that I'd know anything about how that happened,” he throws in, “but it's definitely not going to help your case. Just something to think about.”

In spite of all his efforts, you still don't respond, staying quiet all the way through the lobby, into the elevator, and down the hall toward your private office. It's not until you've reached the door that you finally move, reaching out to grab a fistful of his sleeve and yank him inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you yell the second the latch clicks, not holding back now that you're finally somewhere the whole floor can't hear you. Mr. Yang's office may not have soundproof walls but thank goodness yours does.

“What are you talking about?” Jungwon feigns confusion so convincingly you want to rip your hair out.

“You purposefully gave me the wrong time,” you seethe. “How could you?”

“Don't put this on me—”

“That's exactly what I'm going to do! You fucking lied!”

“You should be thanking me, honestly,” he says, unbothered. “I don't know what you were expecting to accomplish there anyway.”

“This isn't about me accomplishing anything, dumbass. It's about something you clearly aren't capable of thinking about beyond your own ego; the future of this company!”

“I AM THE FUTURE OF THIS COMPANY!”

The complete, unearned confidence behind that sentence is so absurd and so corny, that for a moment you genuinely can't think of an appropriate rebuttal. “Besides,” he continues, taking your lack of response as an opening, “you probably wouldn't have added anything useful to the conversation. You'd have just sat there and flirted with them while I did all the heavy lifting.”

Something in your chest goes cold and sharp all at once, like you've just be doused in freezing water. “Is that…” You take a step back from him, stunned. “Is that who I am to you? Some manipulative workplace slut?”

“I mean,” he stares at you shamelessly, “haven't you heard of your reputation around here?”

“Oh, no you don't,” you snap, jabbing a finger toward him, refusing to let that slide. “You and I both know you just made that up. And you don't get to make me the bad guy here, when you SABOTAGED me!”

“Why can't you just let it go?” he throws his hands up in exasperation. “Leave the case to me. Clearly I don't need the extra hand.”

“Why?!”

“Because I want—” he stops himself, jaw tightening, “no— because I need to be CEO.”

“I don't give a flying fuck about that right now,” you fire back. “I'm thinking about the bigger picture here, Jungwon. This is a seven billion dollar deal, remember? You cannot do this alone, no matter how badly you want to believe otherwise.”

He exhales through his nose. “Blah blah blah, you're just saying random words at this point. But sure, fine. I'll include you in everything from now on.” He spreads his arms out with fake magnanimity. “Does that make you feel better?”

You don't answer, not that he needs one to continue his verbal onslaught.

“You must feel so happy now,” the words drip with sarcasm as they fall from his lips, “getting to do this for the good of the company,” he jeers. “Fuck right off with that.”

“What on earth did I even do to you? What warrants this…” Your hands come out in front of you, grasping at the air, searching. “This loathing?”

Jungwon inches closer instead of responding right away, and you can tell he's been waiting years for you to finally ask him that question directly. His voice drops dangerously in an attempt to seem threatening— though he looks more constipated than anything. “My issue is that all you've done since you got here is take. Take credit for work you don't do, take good employees and turn them into your own little henchmen, take opportunities that should've gone to other, more deserving people!”

“You're only here to climb as high as you can, and the second you get there, you'll leave for something better, because that's all you've ever done. And when you couldn't get close enough to me, you tried it with my father instead.”

Is he serious? You shove his shoulders, hard, putting real weight behind it. He barely stumbles back, which you expected, but the contact seems to shock him nonetheless.

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Your voice shakes. “Do you realize how downright insane you sound?”

“You've built me up into some villain in your head, and now you twist everything I do into this negative thing just so it fits whatever narrative makes you feel better about making my life here a living hell! I promise you, that is not who I am.”

“I'm friends with people here because of who they are, not what I can get out of them. And I like working here! If you genuinely think delegating tasks properly to my team counts as making other people do my job for me, you're a fool, and it explains a lot about why your team doesn't know shit!”

You take a breath, and deep down, you know right now is probably a good time to end the argument, but fuck that, might as well air it all out while you can.

“And if we're really going there,” the last of your restraint burning off completely, “you're just mad that I've made it to the same level as you without the privilege. I didn't have any of this given to me on a silver platter— I've earned my place here, and I've made more of an impact here than you ever have, because unlike you, I've never once been able to rely on daddy to fix things when I fail”

Despite expecting him to clap back, throughout your entire rant, Jungwon has just been standing there, taking it. His facial expression doesn't reveal much, but regardless of how he feels, you're just happy you could finally get everything off your chest, the years of having a target on your back taking their toll on you. And whether or not this 'competition' is real, his actions can result in major repercussions.

After some more beats of silence and heavy breathing, he eventually swallows thickly. “Are you done?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Did you get it all out of your system?”

“Mhm, and you? Any last words?”

“I'm good,” he blows out a puff of air, sending a few strands of hair flying up. The energy around you two is still tense.

Alright then. Now what?

“Can we…” your tone a tad calmer, throat sore from yelling. Generally speaking, you are not someone who resorts to raising their voice, or losing their temper so fast, but what can you say, Jungwon just brings out the worst in you. “Can we just call a truce or something?”

If the two of you were actually friends, you'd laugh at the way his features twist in disgust.

“Think about it, this deal needs to be successful, but if you kep thwarting me, then it's going to fall through, which will hurt Yang & Co. a lot. I'm saying this because I don't think you understand: this deal is more important to me than being CEO, so if we can just be civil and work together for the next six months… I'd really appreciate it.”

Jungwon isn't looking at you anymore, electing to focus his gaze on a picture hanging on your wall, and you know which one he's staring at. It's a photo from two summers ago, taken after you'd single-handedly closed the Be:Lift account, a deal that had fallen through twice before landing on your desk. Nobody else had wanted to touch it because the reps were such pains the asses, purposefully disagreeing every suggestion. Mr. Yang had been so pleased that you were able to get through to them that he'd ordered a cake and thrown together an impromptu party in the foyer that same afternoon, more than half the entire office crowding in for champagne and slightly lopsided frosting.

The photo is a group shot from that day, everyone crammed together and grinning. Everyone except Jungwon, who stands off to the side, a solid five feet of distance between himself and the rest of the group. You could have cropped him out entirely when you had the photo printed, it's likely exactly what he would have wanted you to do, and despite a part of you wanting to as well, that would have been too petty even by your standards at the time. You're planning on taking this to your grave, but you'd gone out of your way to buy a slightly bigger frame than you needed, just to make sure he'd still fit.

As you watching him studying now, you can practically see the gears churn in his head. He bites the inside of his cheek, reaching up with a hand to run it through his hair. Both of you know this isn't actually over, it's not going to undo the years of vitriol, but a bandaid is better than an open wound.

“Fine.”

—

Almost a month has passed since Jungwon agreed to a truce with you, and he would be lying if he said he regretted it. Things were definitely awkward at first, understandably so. It took nearly the full first two weeks for the knee jerk urge to say something snarky to disappear, the impulse rearing up almost automatically every time you opened your mouth near him and vice versa.

This whole truce concept felt more like some kind of test of self control than anything, biting back comment after comment until his jaw ached from the effort of it. But now, having finished out the fourth week working with you, he can say that things have mellowed out into something more manageable, all the verbal jabs traded in for pointed glares or the occasional side eye.

… Ugh, fine, he'll come clean. Sometimes, rarely, he can't help but cover up some hard words with a cough, but he swears it's happening less and less as time goes on.

But progress is progress, and the rest of the office, he assumes, is grateful for the change, since nobody has to awkwardly bare witness to the two of you ripping into each other anymore… or as much.

Once again, it takes a lot more than four weeks to break years-long habits. That goes for you too! You haven't necessarily been all rainbows and sunshine yourself.

“So son,” his father asks, the two of them seating once again in his office. Mr. Yang has decided he'll do private monthly check-ins, and this is the first of those. “How has it been going?”

"It's fine," Jungwon says, settling back into the chair across from his father's desk. "We've had been communicating with Heeseung and Soobin since the lunch, mostly over email and Zoom, though we're due for our second in-person meeting soon.”

Mr. Yang nods along, listening carefully. “Good. And things with…”

Jungwon catches the allusion and stiffens. “Better…ish. We've agreed on a truce.”

His father lets out a short laugh at that. “Well, I can't complain, can I? Better than nothing.” He then raises an eyebrow. “I heard from Mr. Bang that she wasn't present at the lunch. Care to explain why?”

Shifting slightly, Jungwon has the decency to look at least a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was a dick for that.”

Mr. Yang hums in agreement. “I didn't raise you to play dirty tricks.”

“Whatever,” Jungwon mutters, though he doesn't argue the point either. “Anyway, she shows good initiative.”

“There's a reason she's made it this far,” his father states simply. “That's all I'll say on it.”

“Okay yeah, I got it, you don't need to hype her up that much.”

“You have to admit that you've been tough on her, son. I've never understood why you hated her so much.”

He wouldn't exactly phrase the verb ‘hate’ in the past tense just yet, but he'll let the comment go without correcting it. “Until she gives me a solid reason to think otherwise, I don't really see the point in pursuing anything with her beyond professional.”

-

It's later in the day that Jungwon runs into you, or, not exactly runs, more like walks past your office at quarter to seven in the evening, where he sees you still typing away at your desk. It's one thing for him to stay late, as he usually does, but you? Unexpected. Then again, he never goes to your floor after hours, or ever, for that matter. He's only there now to drop off some documents in your mailbox.

“You're still here?”

“Ah!” You jump, startled to see someone, let alone him, at your doorway so late. “Uh— yeah. I always tend to stay back a few hours.”

He blinks at you. “Why?”

“Well normally during the day I'm pretty busy helping my team with stuff," you explain, "and with this acquisition specifically, I've been tracking down old financial statements, and following up on all those documentation requests, so I haven't really had a solid block of time to actually sit down and type anything until now.”

“It's late,” he says, watching you.

“I know that, captain obvious," you roll your eyes, "but I'll probably stay another half hour or so, since Minju wanted me to review the team's budget breakdown before it goes out tomorrow.”

“I thought you handed project lead over to Riki.”

Rubbing your hands on your thighs, you mutter, “same here. I think they have some separation anxiety, hopefully by next month they'll be better on their own.”

“Hm.” He acknowledges before looking down at his wristwatch. “I—uh, I have thirty minutes.”

“Huh?” You glance up at him, brows furrowing. “No need.”

What was he doing? Offering to spend more time with you, of his own volition? Jungwon knows he's being stupid, and according to the look that's plastered on your face, he has a feeling you think the same. But alas, it's too late to backtrack, so he walks forward and grabs the chair in front of your desk, dropping down into it and pulling out his laptop from his bag.

Neither of you talk as he scrolls through his emails, but that's probably the better route. God forbid one of you pisses the other off when it's already late, and you're both tired. He finds though, to his surprise, the half hour in your presence to be quite tolerable. Pleasant, if he so dares.

Maybe it's just the fact that he can recognize, for the first time, that you do work hard when nobody's watching, when there's no one left to charm and you have nothing to prove.

—

True to his word, Jungwon tells you the correct time for your next meeting with Heeseung and Soobin, and you are determined to redeem yourself this time around, so when they arrive, you make sure you're the one greeting them warmly at the elevator bank and ushering them into the executive suite.

“Can I get either of you anything? Water, coffee, tea?” you ask after pulling out their chairs for them.

Soobin requests a black coffee, and Heeseung asks for water, and you nod, slipping back out into the hallway to track down both orders. On your way, you spot Jungwon coming from the opposite direction, adjusting his cufflinks.

“They're already seated,” you tell him as you pass by. “I'm just grabbing drinks.”

He sends you a nod in acknowledgement and continues on ahead of you into the suite while you make a quick detour to the small kitchenette down the hall. A few minutes later you return, balancing a small tray, water for Heeseung, coffee for Soobin, and a second coffee you set down silently for Jungwon. He glances at it, then up at you, eyebrows raised, but you don't bother to acknowledge it, taking your own seat and setting down your notepad. His eyebags are horrible, it would be a crime to not at the very least, give him this one thing.

“Alright,” you smile, folding your arms over the table and , glancing between the two Hybe reps. “Should we get begin?”

Soobin nods, opening a new tab on his laptop. “First and foremost, let's discuss the transition timeline and how we'll handle communications once this becomes public knowledge.”

“One to two weeks out from the official filing,” Heeseung chips in, flipping through a page of his own notes. “That gives both sides enough time to prep internal messaging without the news sitting unofficial for too long and risking a leak.”

“What? That is nowhere near enough time,” you shake your head. “You're asking hundreds of people, on both sides, to process the fact that their entire jobs are about to change, possibly relocate, with barely any time to plan around it. A month gives people a bit more space to breathe, instead of scrambling, no?”

The man across from you disagrees. “With respect, Yang & Co. is the larger company here. I'd think your infrastructure could handle a shorter runway better than most given how many employees you have, so if we're saying that timeframe will work for us, it should work for you.”

“That's not really the point,” leaning forward slightly, you push back. “More people doesn't mean they're more replaceable, or that they’d need less time to adjust to something this disruptive. They'd probably quit and both sides would lose too many employees in such a short window."

A small nudge against your foot under the table grabs your attention, and your gaze instinctively cuts sideways to Jungwon, certain it came from him, though he's still facing forward. It wasn't a warning nudge, you're sure of that much, because if he wanted you to stand down, then you’d have received a sharp kick. Oddly enough, the only way you could describe it is as somewhat encouraging. Weird.

"We might be able to meet you at three weeks," Heeseung says after chewing on his lip and sending Jungwon of all people a long look.

“Three weeks works,” you jot the number down. “I appreciate you hearing us out on it.”

Soobin grins, typing in a few notes. “Moving on, then, we should probably talk through how the joint statement is going to read once this does go public. Our communications team has some concerns about how the messaging positions us at Hybe, specifically whether it reads as an acquisition or an equal partnership. We care about how it'll be perceived, you know, in the market.”

“We'd want the language to reflect a merger, not so much an absorption, if possible, even if financially, everyone understands what's actually happening.”

“That's fair,” Jungwon concurs, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. "We can work with communications on both sides to draft something that reflects that."

From there, the four of you create a clear list of next steps on the table; valuations, a legal review of the IP disputes, as well as a draft of the joint announcement. Chairs scrape back as everyone rises, making your way toward the door.

“This was a good session,” says Soobin, who shakes your hand first, then Jungwon's.

Heeseung offers you a only a closed-lip smile before turning to Jungwon. The two of them shake hands stiffly, you notice. It actually looked super awkward, the fuck?

You and Jungwon walk them out toward the elevator, exchanging a few final words before the doors slide shut, and immediately, you swivel to face him.

“What was that back there?”

“What?” He heads toward the elevator as he speaks, not waiting for you and pressing the call button before you've even caught up.

“The toe nudge? Like what even…?”

“Oh, yeah.” He steps inside when the doors open, hitting his floor first, and yours after you follow him in, then smirks to himself. “It was nice seeing you stand up for the right thing.”

“And I'm glad it was against Heeseung, specifically,” he adds.

You give him a quizzical look. Why the fuck is he beefing with a Hybe employee? At least the two of you are actual colleagues, but Heeseung is just some rando at the end of the day. He lets out a sigh at your cluelessness. “We have a past together.”

Your eyes widen. Hold up. Is he…? That might actually explain why you've never heard of him having a girlfriend and rarely see him interacting with women. “You're ga—”

“No!” His eyes too, turn into saucers, hands shooting out as he stops you from uttering another word more. “Not that. I'm, uh—” He coughs. “Very straight.”

Seeing Jungwon flustered was not on your bingo card for the year, and a full blush spreads across his panic-stricken face. The sight of it, so unlike the anger or impatience that are the only two expressions you've really ever seen on him before now, sends you into a fit of laughter. You slap a hand over your mouth, trying and failing to reel it in, but the more you try to stop, the worse it gets. He just looks so… so… stupid!

Your coworker only turns a deeper shade of red the longer you laugh, which of course makes you laugh even harder. The last minute of the ride seems to stretch on forever, both of you caught in the same losing battle, but finally the elevator dings and the doors open on your floor, putting him out of his misery at last.

“Good work today, bye.” Hopping out, you turn back to send him a wave, but catch him tweaking in real time instead, fist pressed against his mouth, failing just as badly as you did to smother a laugh of his own, right as the doors shut between you.

It takes a moment for you to pull yourself together, but you do eventually, before getting struck with an mind-shattering thought: did you and Jungwon just laugh in each other's presence? Impossible.

Granted, you were laughing at him, not with him, but seeing as he was also laughing by the end of the whole ordeal… goosebumps rise on your skin. Who took the real Yang Jungwon, and where did they put him? There is absolutely no way you can have the same sense of humour as him.

-

“It was so annoying, like deadass. I mean, who, at our old age, asks someone for their snapchat? You're done.”

You giggle, listening to Yunah rant about this guy she met over the weekend. “That's an immediate ick,” you say as you bring your fork up to your mouth, spearing another bite of your salad. You chew slowly, savouring the last bit of chicken mixed in with the greens, before grabbing your water and taking a long swig, washing it all down before continuing. “Having snapchat in the big 2026 is crazy.”

A flash of something crosses Yunah's face, you wouldn't call it guilt, but something akin to that. It's the look of someone caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and your jaw drops the second you catch it, eyes darting over to Minju, whose sitting next to you at the picnic table, like are you seeing this too?

“Girl, please don't tell me you have snapchat. I beg.”

“And please,” Minju tags on, “don't tell me you gave it to him.”

The taller girl winces. “About that…”

Minju slaps a hand to her forehead, groaning, while you cover your face with both hands, leaning your body back in your chair, dragging your palms slowly down your cheeks in exaggerated despair. You love her, you really do, but damn she needs to raise her standards. She's out here complaining but at the same time she's setting herself up for failure so bad, you don't even think you feel pity for her anymore. It's only as you finally open your eyes, still tipped backward in your spot, that you make dead eye contact with someone standing directly above you.

The grim reaper.

Oh wait, nevermind, it's just Jungwon.

You go still, stare fixed up on him. “Oh, hey Jungwon,” Yunah greets brightly, although he doesn't so much as glance her way, gaze focused solely on you.

“I need to talk to you.”

That snaps you out of it. You sit back up straight, blinking. “Uhm, can't you see I'm busy eating lu—”

“Now.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, girls.” Letting out a heavy sigh, you relent, pushing back from the table and following after him. And when you're a safe distance form your friends, you ask, “so what was so important that you needed to interrupt us?”

“I got a call from the board,” Jungwon says, walking briskly enough that you have to pick up your pace to keep beside him. “They want the original letter of intent from a few years back. Apparently, we've been thinking about acquiring Hybe for some time now.”

You hum. That explains the how the rumours started so many years ago.

“Legal needs it for continuity now that talks have picked back up, and I cannot find it anywhere,” he carries on. “I've gone through like all the storage rooms on my floor, checked every shelf, to no avail.”

“That was a very convoluted way of saying you need my help.”

He squints at you “Can you not?”

“Can you not?” you shoot back. “Anyway, I think it might be on the eighth floor, in the old records archive? They moved a bunch of pre-2020 files there a couple years back during the renovation that year. Nobody remembers because it's basically a glorified storage closet at this point.”

Doesn’t help either that something else was happening at that time and most workers weren’t even permitted on work premises.

“How did you even find out about it?”

Entering the building again, you shrug. “Guess I actually do work around here. Wild concept, I know.”

The eighth floor archive turns out to be a surprisingly massive space once you actually get inside it, rows upon rows of metal shelving stretching back further than either of you can see from the doorway, each one packed with labelled bins and boxes stacked to the ceiling. It makes sense, given it's essentially fifty years of Yang & Co.'s entire paper trail crammed into one room, but for a first timer like Jungwon, you can imagine the awe he must feel.

Jungwon wanders a few rows deep, scanning labels, before pulling a bin down and flipping through it absently. “Huh,” he says, probably more to himself than to you, holding up a yellowed folder. “This is from the year the company was founded.” He studies it for a second longer, fascinated. “Kinda cool, actually.”

You're a few aisles over, skimming through bins and shoving them back when they're not the right one. “Right?” you call back, pulling out another box and blowing a thin layer of dust off the top before prying it open. “I always feel like I'm in some spy movie down here, or like I'm a detective or something.”

After what feels like an eternity of digging through identical box after identical box, you finally spot it, a manila folder labelled Hybe Preliminary Letter of Intent, 2019, tucked into the very back of a bin you were about to give up on. “Found it!” you yell out, victory surging through you for being the one to find it, but you don't hear anything back. “Jungwon?”

Still nothing, you tuck the folder under your arm and make your way down the row, weaving through the maze of shelving until you see him a couple aisles over, sitting cross legged on the floor with a bin pulled open in front of him.“Look what I found,” he says, holding up a stack of papers. “Our original applications. Well, your original application. I didn't exactly have to apply the usual way.”

“Wow.” Sitting on the floor beside him, you roll your eyes. “You really did get everything handed to you, huh.”

“For the sake of both of us, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.”

You lean over his shoulder, and your stomach drops in horror when you realize what exactly is in his hold. “Is that my old resume? Why did HR even demand an application photo— oh my god, I look so young.”

Cringing at the small ID photo clipped to the top corner, you're transported back to your old university apartment , begging your roommate Kazuha to just take the picture already. You remember making her snap at least six different versions, tilting your chin this way and that, insisting the lighting wasn't right, or that it was your ugly side, only to end up circling back to the very first shot in the end anyway.

“Alrighty, I think you've seen enough,” you say, moving to snatch it out of his hands.

Much to your dismay, he just moves it out of reach, holding it up higher, a grin tugging at his mouth. “No no, I wasn't done reading your cover letter.”

“Jungwon, I swear to—”

He manages to get a hand flat on your shoulder and pushes you back, keeping you at bay while starts to theatrically hum and hah, reading aloud in an overly formal voice. “I believe my experience has uniquely prepared me to contribute meaningfully to your team, and I am eager to bring my skills in—” He pauses, reading further down the page, before laughing. “What experience? This says you walked dogs for two summers.”

“Okay, quit being an ass and hand it over,” you groan, finally managing to yank it out of his grip, face burning. “How could you hate this face hm? Look at her!” You hold the photo out toward him, tapping a finger against it.

Jungwon sits back, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. “I think part of it was that I felt like you were trying to force some kind of friendship between us early on, like you needed a jumping off point to get somewhere else.”

Your eyebrows raise at his sudden honesty.

“And it made me hate you even more to see you get close to everyone else, even the higher ups. I didn't understand why you'd want to do that if not to gain connections”

“With Heeseung,” he rambles on, “we were close, like, really close, for years. Then I found out—way later than I should have— that the only reason he ever bothered getting close to me in the first place was because he wanted to get a jumpstart to his career. I guess I assumed you were cut from the same cloth.”

That's actually… sad. You can't imagine any of your close friends doing something like that to you, using years of what you thought was genuine friendship as nothing more than a means to an end. “I get why that would make you wary of people, especially anyone who seemed a little too eager to befriend you, so if I ever made you feel like I was doing the same thing, I'm sorry. That was never my intention., I just wanted to make a friend.”

His eyes flit from the ground to yours. “… Yeah… I think I'm realizing that now.”

“...Is that all?”

He tilts his head. “Huh?”

“You know…” You fidget. “Usually, if you've been a horrible person to someone for several years, this is typically the part where you'd apologize for that too, just saying.”

He snorts. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves now.” Pushing himself up onto his knees, he holds a hand out. “You have the document, right?”

You glower at him for the lack of apology, though you hand it over anyway. “Yup.”

“Perfect. I'll go deliver this to my father's desk now.”

—

“You've been spending a lot of time with someone you consider to be 'the bane of your existence', you know.”

Jungwon chokes on his rice, coughing embarrassingly to the point that Sunghoon has to reach over and thump him on the back a couple of times before he manages to recover. “Yeah,” he wheezes out, glaring at the instigator, Jake. “We've, uh, been working on something together.”

“Must be a pretty big something,” Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, “if you two are actually on the same deal. I thought there was an unspoken rule here to never put you two anywhere near each other.”

“You can say that again,” Jungwon mutters before shoving another mouthful of rice into his mouth.

“But how is it, though?” Jay asks from beside him. “Is she giving you hell? You weren't very keen on her shadowing you that one time, if I remember correctly.”

“Actually, I think I've been the one giving her hell,” Jungwon admits, to his chagrin. “But I think we've smoothed things out a bit since then. I don't know, I'm trying not to dwell on it, since we kind of need to lock in and actually get this done.”

Realizing that he may have been the villain this whole time and not you was a particularly rude awakening. He's still in a bit of denial, and even though you keep proving to him time and time again that you're nothing like the person he made you out to be in his mind, he can't help but compulsively try and look for some flaw he can point to and say, see, I was right about her all along, or a position he can maneuver you into that might finally reveal a weakness. Like, from the almost three months you two have now been working on the Hybe acquisition, he's seen sides of you he never would have gotten the chance to otherwise, not if his father hadn't forced the two of you together against both your wills.

Above all, though, there's a sinking feeling that's been settling heavier in his gut the more time he spends around you, and that's the growing suspicion that maybe, just maybe, you're indeed the better choice to take over as CEO.

You were right, that day in your office, when you told him you delegated work to your team properly, because he's seen it firsthand now, every time you sit down with Hybe's reps. Tasks get assigned evenly, never too much piled onto one person. It's nothing like the way he operates, refusing to hand anything off because he doesn't trust his own team to do it right, only to end up buried under the weight of it all himself, resenting the members for their uselessness. As hard as it is to admit, he's going to have to take that page out of your book going forward.

When the board or Hybe's side (mainly Heeseung) push for something unfavourable, you're quick to fight back, negotiating a better alternative. And you catch the small clauses in the contracts he doesn't even notice he skimmed past.

He doesn't want to do it, but he has to glaze you: you're just overall a great leader, and an even better person. Watching the way you work, the way you handle things, motivates him to do more, work harder, improve in the areas in which he's lacking.

"I'm glad it's not bad between you two anymore, then," Sunghoon confesses. “I've always thought she seemed pretty chill, honestly.”

Jay agrees around a mouthful of food. “Facts. No hate, bro, but you've been diabolical toward her for years.”

Jungwon drops his head into one hand, letting out a long breath. “No need to remind me.” He closes his eyes. “And if you two like her so much, why don't you go eat with her, then.”

“Orrr,” Jake says, “she can just eat with us.”

…What?

The sound of Jake yelling your name has Jungwon's eyes shooting open, his head still buried in his hand. That little… He is absolutely not going to turn back right now. She's right behind me isn't she.

“Hey guys!”

Yup. He was right.

The boys greet you, a chorus of ‘hey’s and ‘what's up’s, and Jungwon forces himself to look up. Jake scoots over, patting the empty space beside him, and you drop into it, joining in on their conversation. Jungwon watches, quiet, as you laugh freely, joking back and forth with the three of them naturally, something he has yet to experience himself. Obviously, he knows why: years of hostility between the two of you is likely to weigh down on your relationship forever.

He doesn't say much, content to just listen, right up until Sunghoon says something that has you laughing so hard you fall forward, hand coming up to slap the table. Cute.

.

.

.

Okay, what the fuck.

The sudden urge to slap himself overcomes him. You? Cute? He's nauseated.

Must be a one-off, or a fluke, or… or something adjacent. It has to be. Most definitely nothing worth examining further, because he does not have the bandwidth for that right now. But when he sees you lean against Jake's shoulder, still laughing at whatever's left of the joke, and the first thought that fires through Jungwon's brain, is that his shoulders are broader. That you'd probably be more comfortable leaning against him instead.

Oh god.

“Jungwon, are you okay? You look like you're about to barf.”

He blinks, zoning back in, and finds your face close, concern written all over it, the others watching him with matching expressions of confusion.

“Yeah,” his voice cracks. How the hell did his voice crack on a one-syllable word?!

All four of you exchange a round of weird looks, and heat crawls up his neck fast and he stands up, mortified. “I'm gonna, uh, I'll be right back.” He doesn't wait for a response, sprinting to the washroom, where he shoves the door open and heads straight for the sink, splashing cold water onto his face again and again until his skin stings.

—

Each time Mr. Yang calls you into his office, you feel a bit on edge, and for good reason. Ever since he caught wind of your and Jungwon's ‘truce,’ he's been pestering you about it at every opportunity, instead of doing what he’s supposed to do: talk about the acquisition. Are you two actually managing to be civil, or is that just what Jungwon's been telling him. Has anything else changed since the last time you spoke.

At first it was endearing, because you figured after so many years, it must be nice to finally see you two getting along, but after a while, it began feeling like he was just an overly invested parent fishing for gossip. His curiosity began to get annoying real quick. Like, no sir, nothing is happening between us if that’s what you’re wanting to hear. Hence why, when you enter his office today and something else seems to be on his mind, you're relieved.

“Heeseung has been contacting me privately.”

Trivia time! What's worse: Mr. Yang trying to gossip to you about his son, or dropping a bomb of this calibre on you?

God dammit. Jungwon surely wasn't lying when he told you how much of a snake his former friend was.

“…About the deal, sir?”

“Yes.”

“But then doesn't that breach the NDA we signed?”

“Not technically,” Mr. Yang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose “Since I'm named on the agreement myself, and he's coming to me directly rather than a third party or the press.”

“You're kidding me,” you deadpan. “What is he trying to do?”

“Secure himself a senior executive position once the merger closes,” He says bluntly. “He's been fairly direct about it, all things considered. And he's made it clear that if the terms aren't to Hybe's liking— though we all know he's just speaking for himself— he has no problem going to the press about it and making Yang & Co. look bad.”

This motherfucker. He’s audacious, you’ll give him that, but not the good kind. He has the kind of audacity that’d get you jumped in prison, somewhere he should go for trying to pull a stunt like this. “That has to be illegal. Guess he hasn't changed much, then.”

Something in Mr.Yang's facial expression lights up briefly at your words. “Jungwon told you about him I assume?”

“Yup.”

To your surprise, he breaks out into quite a wide smile. “He doesn't usually share things like that, I'm glad he's opening up.”

You are too, considering his beef with Heeseung is the entire reason why he tormented you for all these years. “Speaking of him,” you steer the conversation back on track, “does he know about this? About Heeseung?”

The smile drops off Mr. Yang's face almost instantly. “No. I haven't told him yet.”

“Sir, don't you think he deserves to know? Someone from his past, someone who already hurt him once, is actively trying to manipulate this deal behind his back.”

Mr. Yang mulls this over in his head. “I don't know how to tell him without it completely provoking him into doing something rash that jeopardizes the entire deal, you know, based on their past and all.”

“I do,” you affirm, “but sir, you're already asking me to keep one secret from him. Why another?

His expression softens at that, guilt visibly settling over his features. “You're right. That's not fair of me to ask of you, and I'm sorry. I've just been trying to buy myself time to handle Heeseung quietly.”

“You haven't shut him down yet, have you, though?”

Mr. Yang hesitates, and that hesitation tells you everything you need to know. “You're right. I haven't fully rejected his terms yet.”

“Sir.” Your voice is firm. “Jungwon needs to know, and you need to let him handle it. Isn't that the whole point of putting us on the deal? You said it yourself: you wanted to see how we would react if something doesn't go to plan. This is that something. Please give us— him— a chance to prove to you that he can manage the business.”

The older man's features morph into those of guilt, and you know he knows better than to stop you when you rise from your seat.

“I'm going to go talk to him.”

—

Finding him is easy enough, being that he's usually in his office at this time. It's more surprising that you're there though, and you realize that when he opens his door and is shocked to see you, though he barely has time to say your name when you push him in and kick you foot out behind you to make sure the door shuts properly.

“What's going on—”

“Heeseung is blackmailing your father.”

He pauses for a briefly, still frazzled for the last ten seconds. “I-I'm sorry.. what?”

“Heeseung,” you repeat slowly, “is blackmailing your father.”

Jungwon is quiet for a long time, motionless, as he processes what you just told him. You watch his expression shifts from confusion to skepticism to anger, and you look down, catching how his hands curl at his sides, his knuckles paling.

“Blackmailing him how.”

You explain everything, the executive position, the threat to go to the press early, and with each new dose of information, the man in front of you's breathing gets more and more ragged.

It's such a horrible situation to be in, and just imagining what he could be feeling right now, betrayed twice over by the same person, once as a teenager, and now as an adult, that very same friend try to weaponize his family's name all over again… You almost wish you could spare him this, but he needed to hear it.

“He's even worse than I remember. What a—” He takes a sharp breath in before his tone turns bitter. “And why am I hearing this from you?”

Hesitantly, you say, “your father.. he just told me. He was scared of how you'd react.”

Jungwon looks as if he’s been backstabbed, and you’re going to side with him on this one. “So that's it then. Does he not trust that I can manage it? I mean, it doesn't exactly feel like he wants me to be the next CEO.”

“Jungwon…”

“No!” He lashes out, throwing his arms up. “Can't you see it? He's telling you this before his own son!”

In an act of intimacy you could have never predicted using within his vicinity, you reach for him, both hands gently closing around his forearms. “Jungwon,” You say again, firmer. “Look at me.”

He doesn't— stubborn ass— training his eyes on where your hands are touching him, but that doesn't stop you from saying what you want to say.

“I promise you that's not the case. I don't think your father doubts you, but rather he's scared, because he knows exactly how much Heeseung hurt you the first time. He was trying to protect you from reliving that, albeit he didn’t go about it the right way.”

Jungwon's breathing slows marginally.

“There’s no denying that, and I told him that myself. Please, just trust me on this; he wants you to be the next CEO.”

You so badly want to tell him that his father is rooting for him, that the whole reason you're even in the picture is to give him the nudge he needs into becoming the leader he's meant to be, but it’s not the right time. If you tell him, it would do no good. Knowing him, he'd let it muddle his thoughts and influence his choices in ways that could very well backfire. For now, you'll zip it.

“Just… why? Why is Heeseung so greedy?”

“I don't know,” you respond. “But what I do know is that it's not my place to stop him; it's yours.”

---

taglist @meowwwon @justpassingdontworry @boundlesselixirflux @en-muse @won1yoiz @v1-xo @meowseongg comment to be added for pt2 - if you're already on it, no need :))

[wonvelvet]

HOW TO PRETEND

in which, after a few regretful moments of letting your older brother, jake’s, best friends in your pants, you end up crying in lee heeseung’s arms from guilt—and unfortunately having to deal with the consequences.

wc 5.6k ִֶָ🪽་༘

kiki’s note: a lil surprise for 1000 followers!! i’m so grateful to all of you and i can’t believe a thousand people enjoy my work! i only started writing on tumblr in april so this is literally crazy guys wtf… mwah mwah! i hope u guys love this too!

warnings: lots of angst, reader becomes disgusted with herself, not even a single bit aftercare, unprotected sex, protected sex, creampie, belly bulge, knee grinding, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, lots of crying, degrading, praise kink mean dom hoon, soft dom hee, sappy ending, leaving a few warnings out to not spoil the ending okay . . . enjoy!

you don’t even know how you got here.

one second, you and heeseung were having an intense argument—something about one of your assigned group projects.

the next second, he has you pinned against the dirty wall of the cramped janitor's closet.

continue 𑣲⋆

“mmh . . .”

that’s it, that’s all that you could gather the energy to say.

with heeseung’s knee placing just the perfect amount of pressure between your legs, and with your throat being flooded with spit that definitely doesn’t belong to you, your brain risks self-destruction at any moment.

heeseung pulls off you, a string of mixed saliva still linking you two. he presses his thumb against your chin. dragging it down, he gestures for you to stick your tongue out.

he guides your hips to grind harder against his knee, pulling a delicate moan out of you — which is swallowed quickly by his mouth. the sight of your soft muscle disappearing inch by inch into heeseung’s mouth, gliding in and out was enough for the heavy dam in your lower stomach to dangerously overflow.

your brain was turning into mush, all your senses becoming overwhelmed. “heeseung . . . i can’t-“

you don’t even try to finish your sentence.

if it wasn’t for heeseung holding your whole body up with his knee, you’re guaranteed that you would’ve just fallen straight onto the floor.

heeseung removes his knee from you, a complaining whine escaping your throat. he quickly slides his palm down your bare stomach—grateful to your shirt that only covers your chest—he unbuttons your shorts, pulling the zip down.

heeseung immediately slips his hand inside your panties, replacing his knee with his unfairly long fingers. they wasted no time into finding your aching entrance; already leaking and slippery for him.

he eases two fingers inside of you, savoring the way your mouth starts to spill uncontrollable moans. heeseung continues to lap at your mouth, his fingers now abusing your sweet spot.

“so pretty when you’re so dumb for me, my baby.”

he continues to curl his fingers harder, making the pathetic sounds coming from you even louder.

“hee- fuck! i’m gonna . . .”

a sudden vibration comes from heeseung’s back pocket, he tries to ignore it — but he just can’t.

“fuck.” he reaches for his stuffed phone.

he looks up at you, “jake’s calling me.”

your chest begins to heat up, mind endlessly spinning. “well don’t fucking- fuck! don’t answer it!”

huh, even in a time like this, heeseung continues to thrust his fingers in and out—and faster.

an irritating smile spreads across his face,

he answers the call.

“hello?” he breathes.

at this point, you’re practically praying that jake doesn’t hear the lewd squelching sounds coming from heeseung’s side.

you hear jake’s muffled voice through the speakers, “where the fuck are you? we’ve been waiting for you for like 15 minutes, the movies gonna start soon. get your ass here now!”

heeseung lets out a silent groan, breaking eye contact with you for a minute to roll his eyes to the side.

all of a sudden, a dirty thought enters his head.

heeseung rams his fingers deeper, harder, into you. constantly toying with the spongy spot that makes your eyes squeeze shut.

a small but undoubtedly an obvious moan accidentally leaks out of you. your eyes immediately snap open, and glare at heeseung’s phone—which is still on call with jake.

“yo, what the fuck? where are you hee?”

your heart hammers against your ribs, but heeseung doesn’t even stop there.

you’re dangerously close, and unfortunately for you; you’re super loud. cumming silently sounds like a nightmare for you! and so, you quickly motion for heeseung to just end the fucking call.

“i’m on my way, just give me a sec.”

the last thing you hear from jake is a distorted groan before heeseung cuts him off, finally letting you air out all the moans you desperately tried to suppress.

the heavy knot finally snaps, creaming heeseung’s fingers. he pulls them out of your shorts, a long rope of your release following them before breaking shortly after.

heeseung lays you a small kiss, not directly onto your lips, but near them. “see you later, y/n”

the soft click of the door makes your heart sink to your stomach. watching heeseung leave you in this dark room, with the fabric between your legs wet and sticky, caused a large, gut wrenching pit form in your heart.

you immediately fall onto the floor, back sliding against the wall. your legs are absolutely finished, your chest still rising and falling rapidly.

your lips sunk into a gentle frown, your vision becoming slightly blurred — you weren’t crying. not yet, atleast.

your body is trembling, the fact that you’re all alone makes your heart burn even more. it’s okay, who cares! it happens to every girl, right?

you quickly wipe your tears, hints of flaked mascara blurring into a dark stain under your eyes. it takes you a minute to help your body up, your palms digging into the ground to push yourself up.

you eventually find your balance, head spinning and vision blacking out. the disgusting feeling of stickiness still lingering in your panties — you’ll just deal with that at home.

you clear your throat, zipping up your shorts and buttoning up. you probably look like a fucking mess, there’s not even a single mirror in here to help you. so, with a lessened confidence, you reluctantly reach for the door handle.

your room smells of toasted vanilla and warm chocolate.

after hundred sprays of vanilla scented perfume, makeup products spread all over your vanity, a million failed outfits and dresses thrown onto the floor,

you are finally ready for riki’s annual house party — also known as: the party where sluts unite!

you take one last look in the mirror, pleased with what you see.

a cute, neat half up half down hairstyle with two mini pigtails, a mini strapless dress with black and white polka dots; featuring a ruffle neckline with black lace trim and a flattering drop waist silhouette paired with just-under-the-knee level black boots.

huh . . .

so pretty.

after a quick touch up on your lip gloss, you finally make your way to the living room — where you are met with none other than your older brother, jake.

soft chestnut hair sleeked with mousse, black baggy jeans dragging onto the floor, and an oversized red hoodie. is he some fucking middle schooler?

jake shakes his head dismissively, “do you always have to dress like that?”

“who would i be if i didn’t dress like this, jake?”

he shrugs his shoulders, letting out a weak sigh. “whatever. come on let’s go, we’re getting late.”

the comfortable silence your car is shattered by jake,

“do you think heeseung’s seeing someone?”

your heart immediately throbs faster, eyes discreetly widening. you clear your throat, “why would i know? I don't care about him.”

jake’s hand on the wheel tightens, only resulting in your chest overheating even more. toying with the hem of your dress, you begin to mumble,

“but why? do you think he is?”

you just hope, hope that jake doesn’t utter a word about that fucking phone call from yesterday.

he inhales deeply before answering, “well, he’s just acting weird, and when i called him, it sounded like he was with a girl . . . but whatever, it’s not like you’d know who anyway, so just leave it.”

you eyes close in gratitude, thankfully he dismisses you as a suspect. god knows what jake would do to you—and heeseung, if he found his own best friend got into his younger sister’s pants.

at last, you finally reach riki’s airbnb for the night.

and woah, is it fucking massive.

“how did riki even afford this,. what the fuck?” jake questions, shutting his car door with a loud slam.

the smile trickling across your face was enough for jake to know you were up to something, he just didn’t know what.

jake knew you knew something he didn’t, especially since the girl on the phone yesterday had a voice suspiciously similar to yours.

but that’s where he gets stuck,

why would— you . . . even let heeseung near you?

you were always vocal about your hatred for heeseung. late nights where jake would listen to you endlessly complain about his inactivity in biology, his disheveled hair, his constant lack of respect towards you — you literally hated him.

or atleast that’s what he thought.

the colorful lights were sweets for your vision, the loud bass of music blasted through the speakers. you cheerfully walk with a subtle skip through the gathering.

you’ll admit, even though you were super social, you never really had an actual set of friends in your time at university.

so after separating yourself from jake, you find yourself . . . alone.

alone in the sea of people who all have someone to gossip with, someone to listen to,

just somebody.

hm, whatever.

you don’t need friends, you don’t need anyone.

all you need is a good fucking drink that will make you forget everything and anything. so you examine the room till you find a bar.

fortunately, since jake forgot to refill the car's fuel last night, you two came late — meaning the bar is already empty.

it’s all familiar to you; the feeling of pouring your liquor by yourself, sipping by yourself. it’s normal to you, sadly.

the alcohol fills your lungs, a choked cough leaving your throat from the accidental rapid pace of swallowing.

“what’s up, y/n?”

you bottoms up one last shot before turning around to the mysterious voice summoning you, the effects of alcohol already influencing you.

to your surprise, you are met with park sunghoon — towering right behind you. a smile leaks across your face.

“hi sunghoon! nothing much, what about you?”

his dark eyes drop from your lips, “well, this dress looks beautiful on you . . .” his delicate hands play with the ruffles on your neckline, thumb brushing over your collarbone ever so slightly.

you let out a smooth, breathy laugh, unsure of what to say.

fuck it, you can’t be alone forever.

you wrap you arms around his neck, pulling sunghoon into a deep, slow kiss. his hand slides down your dress, touching all parts of you.

he pushes himself off you, gasping barely. “let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

with a burning heart, you accept his proposal.

disgusting, that’s it.

the room was absolutely disgusting.

used condoms thrown onto the floor, stains of who knows what on the messed-up bed, strands of hair scattered across the tiles — it took you everything not to throw up right then and there.

as soon as the door clicked shut, sunghoon’s hands were all over you. his tongue pushing its way past your lips, pulling a reflexive gasp out of you.

he continued to shove his tongue down your throat, pushing your head down harshly till your knees hit the cold, hard ground.

“i want to see your mouth so fucking full of me. come on, do the honors.”

you swallow hardly before reaching for his belt, the metallic clink making your heart race.

you know jake would kill you if he saw you like this.

having heeseung’s fingers inside of you was one thing, but sucking sunghoon off just twenty four hours after? he would lose his mind.

to make matters worse, jake was present both times.

first on the call, and now downstairs—fucking clueless on what his ‘innocent’ little sister is doing with his whore friends.

but the arousal leaking between your legs had taken over you, with a heavy heart you finally take sunghoon into your mouth. soft hand stroking what you can’t take.

his hand immediately intertwines with your hair, pulling each strand so harshly that a quiet whine escapes you.

you suck harder at his severe tugs, the damp fabric underneath becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

sunghoon pulls you off, your saliva still connected to his tip. tears already pricking your eyes, you look up at him.

fuck, sunghoon could cum just like this. your pretty, round eyes looking up at him with so much innocence, and with your soft lips slick with the same spit dripping off of his dick.

a low groan comes from him, he quickly signals for you to get on the bed.

holding back your nausea staring at the dirty bed, you crawl until the plush hits your chest.

“so trained, huh? already having your ass up to show for me? such a nice slut for me.”

he lays a harsh smack at your flesh, pulling a whimper filled with a mix of pain and pleasure out of you. he pushes your panties aside, using two of his fingers to spread your wetness behind.

he aligns himself at your entrance, and with one brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you.

his tip kisses your cervix, a faint bulge forming in your stomach. he quickens his thrusts, a ring of white appearing at the base of his dick.

you are so so grateful at the loud hum of music for muffling your borderline pornographic cries. “fuck- hoon . . . i’m close!”

his finger slips under, drawing tight circles onto your clit. you instantly come undone at the overwhelming sensation, heavily puffing.

sunghoon’s thrusts become erratic, overstimulating you in the best way possible. “gonna- fill you- fuck, so much.”

the thought of sunghoon not wearing a condom made the gut-wrenching pit in your heart bloom immensely, your face becoming warm at the realization.

“no! wait- fuck! don’t cum inside hoon!”

sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut, “fuck.”

he quickly pulls out of you, leaving you empty and aching. he strokes himself with precision, long flows of cum landing straight onto your back — and on your dress.

his delicate breaths fill the air, slowly pushing himself off the bed, he drags his pants up.

confusion takes over you, why isn’t sunghoon . . . doing anything for you?

“jay and riki are probably waiting for me downstairs, i have to go, okay?”

you try to bend your lips into a subtle smile, “okay.”

sunghoon has the courtesy to close the door, at least. leaving you, once again, by yourself.

you sit in the nasty bed in stillness, cum dripping down your back, your thigh, your ass — even your fucking dress. tears swell your vision, your sobs coming to be progressively louder.

you just feel fucking pathetic, sunghoon’s words duplicating inside of your brain.

‘slut, slut, slut.’

you arnet a slut, are you?

you sob harder at your thoughts, mascara running down your washed, flushed cheeks.

you came to this stupid party looking so pretty, now your pigtails are all messed up, your dress is stained, your makeup is smudged and you just . . . dont feel pretty anymore.

the door swings open,

“where the fuck is the bathroom- oh”

you already know who it is, not even having the life to look up anymore — just soaking yourself in the filthy bed.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?”

the sounds of your sniffles and stifled breathing were enough of an answer for him.

he unhurriedly makes his way over to bed, noticing how messed up you look — and the leaks of fluids running down your thigh.

he takes a seat next to you, cradling you into his arms.

you quickly make yourself comfortable, the warmth radiating from him causing an unfamiliar feeling of comfort to drape over you.

you let out a few more faint sobs, tears smearing his shirt — but he doesn’t care, he lets you do whatever you need to do.

you pull yourself away from his chest, cheeks a gentle hue of pink. you don’t dare to look at him, a humiliating sense taking over you.

“let me take you home, please.”

you wipe your tears with your palm before responding, taking your time locating the words.

“no, i don’t want to go home. i want to stay.”

heeseung emits a sigh, clearly not believing you.

“stay here and do what? cry?”

the frown on your face was unmanageable, you couldn’t even try to fight it.

you know he’s right. if you stay, all you’ll do is cry,

cry because you’re alone, cry because you feel awful, and cry because you don’t even know what to do anymore.

“cmon, let’s go home.” he caresses your head with his feather-light hand, playing with your hair.

you hesitantly nod, making heeseung’s heart soften.

you don’t know what to say,

the silence in the car was sufficient.

but there was one thing bothering you, “what if jake saw us? or if he finds out you’re taking me home? he’ll literally end us.”

heeseung’s eyes blink slowly, “he won’t know.”

“you don’t know that.” you gently laugh, “jake knows everything.”

heeseung smiles at your sudden softness, his own heart illuminated at the picture.

“even if he finds out, it’s fine. i’ll talk to him.”

you just nod at his words, feeling comfortable knowing he’ll deal with everything.

the rest of the ride was peaceful, only a few more small talks took place between you two. after almost twenty minutes, you two reach your — and jake’s — apartment.

the air was cold, the chilly air burned your skin. heeseung helps you shut the car door, his shoulder brushing yours.

“i think you should go, heeseung.”

you look up at him, mascara still muddied under your eyes.

“are you sure? i can stay.”

“no it’s fine, you can go.” a giggle escapes you.

heeseung inhales for a second, his own brain spewing nonsense. he looks down, leaning forward to kiss your forehead — the delicate plush of his lips pressing against your skin.

“okay. rest well . . . bye.”

to say you were anxious was an understatement.

it took you thirty minutes to get out of your bed today, desperately trying to come up with an excuse for why you went home — or rather, how you went home.

nonetheless, you couldn’t stay in bed all day. so, you stood right up and headed outside.

you are met with the one and only; sim jaeyun, sitting down on the couch with a piece of french toast hanging from his mouth.

you let out a small cough, just to let jake know you’re ready to eat. he immediately turns around, “good morning, took you long enough.”

he turns back to the tv, focusing on his breakfast.

okay, so far so good. he isn’t questioning you on anything, yet.

you make your own bowl of cereal, pouring milk over the sugary frosties — mouthwatering at the sight.

you feel a lot better today, you took a shower, spread body butter and body oil all over your body, air-straightened your hair, and now you are wearing the white, fluffy pajamas jake gifted you last year because he was ‘tired of you wearing all of his clothes as sleepwear when they clearly aren't’

you take a seat right next to jake on the couch, the bowl of cereal cooling your thighs.

“why’d you leave so early last night hm? you're always unnecessarily excited for ‘the best party of the year!’ or whatever the fuck you call it.” he mocks your tone, causing you to punch his shoulder in response.

it’s okay, this is a question you can answer — let’s just hope he doesn’t ask further . . .

“i don’t know- i just, i felt really sick and wanted to go home.”

jake nods at your reply,

“but how did you get home, uber?”

fuck.

you aren’t a liar, you hate lying.

but you might just have become what you hate today, “i got dr-“

rapid, loud bangs get fired at your door before you can finish, jake groans and leans back.

jake’s throws his head into his hands, “sorry y/n, i forgot i have to help sunghoon with something. you can go in your room till he leaves, if you want.”

your heart suddenly weighs heavier, slightly searing at the thought of having to face sunghoon.

what happened last night wasn’t sunghoon’s fault, it was yours. a wave of guilt had passed through you, intense emotions that you had bottled up fully shattered when he left you in that room.

so when jake opens the door, you compose yourself to act as if everything is normal. as if he, jake’s best fucking friend, didn’t fuck his sister the night before.

sunghoon eyes immediately light on you,

“hey . . . ”

you take a moment to swallow, trying to clear your throat, “hi! it’s nice to see you.” you smile gently.

“okay that’s enough, go to your room.” jake says with a serious tone.

and you do.

sunghoon and jake had left around ten minutes ago, meaning you were home alone, again.

so here you sit, slumped on the couch, letting it swallow you whole. a freezing redbull chilling your right hand, and the tv remote in your left.

you are so fucking bored. even your phone has become worthless to you, it’s not like anybody even tries to message you anyway.

thankfully, before you could kill yourself out of boredom — a faded and surprisingly respectful knock comes from your front door.

you desperately try and gather the power you need to push yourself up from the cozy couch, letting out a lengthy stretch — a soft, breathy moan coming from you.

you gradually walk towards the door, legs practically dead from the lack of blood flow.

you let your hand rest at the doorknob for a few seconds, trying to work out who the hell is standing behind this door, and at this time?

you don’t open the door fully, only a slight crack just to see who it is.

your heart drops,

heeseung?

“hi . . .”

“what the fuck are you doing here hee? you know you can’t be here if jake isn’t home,” you whisper,

“i need to talk to you, please.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head, you just aren’t in the mood to be reprimanded by jake today.

“talk to me at uni, not here. go home.”

you try to close the door, but heeseung extends his hand till you can’t.

“please, i’ll only stay for a minute.”

you take a deep breath, “fine, just for a minute.”

“do you want something to drink? water? juice?” you say with a low, dull voice.

“i’m alright, come sit here.” heeseung pats his hand onto the couch, giving a sign for you to sit next to him.

you plop down near him, your knee brushing his.

the atmosphere feels unusually tense, the weak buzz of the ac fills the silence in the air. you brush your hair out of your face, glimpsing towards heeseung.

“why . . . are you here?”

“i just wanted to say, i’m sorry.”

you let out a scoff, “you’re- you’re sorry? for what?”

“for everything, i can tell your upset- i don’t know why but i am sorry.”

you look away, rolling your eyes once more. “be serious heeseung, you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

heeseung rests his hand on your knee, causing your body to instantly heat up. “well, tell me why you want me to apologize, what did i do?”

your throat aches, your eyes become glossy. “i don’t want you to apologize, you didn’t do anything.”

“is it because i left you in the closet that day?”

your lips sink into the familiar position of a frown, vision blurring immensely till faint drops tarnish your pants. you don’t respond to him — you don’t have the heart to.

you nod so subtly you’re not even sure he saw it.

heeseung immediately wraps you into his arms, holding you close. you push him away, part of you still infuriated at him. you’re strong, you arnet going to let him see you cry for the second time in two days.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve stayed with you, i wasn’t thinking properly. i get why you’re mad, you should be.”

you grumble with a sniffle, “shut up! just- shut up.”

heeseung rubs your head, stroking your hair — letting you cry as much as you need. you finally face towards him.

aren’t you just fucking adorable.

your red, glossy eyes look like gems to heeseung, the pink flush on your cheeks perfectly shaping your face, the whine in your voice making his dick twitch even harder,

fuck.

heeseung lets his eyes rest on your lips, his hand gradually making its way to your jaw. he gives you a chance to push him away, but you don’t.

he gently applies his lips on yours, waiting for you to open your mouth. you squeeze your eyes shut,

and let him into your mouth.

the tip of your tongues dance together, the usual feeling of his lips wrapping around yours making you increasingly stimulated.

the soft sounds of your wet kisses fill the room, occasional warm moans fleeing you both.

the kiss is soft, slow and gentle — extremely different from what you’re used to.

heeseung pushes your body calmy till your back hits the plush couch. he pushes your shirt up, cold hand discovering your warm body.

thankfully for heeseung, you don’t wear bras at home. meaning he could freely envelop your aching nipple with his warm mouth, hardening it almost instantly. bolts of electricity going straight down to your clit.

the soft muscle of his tongue scraping over the tip was enough for your hips to buck, trying pathetically to grind against his growing hardness.

his hand slips in between your bodies, holding your stomach down till you can’t even try to move. he turns to the other nipple, conveying the same amount of attention and pleasure.

you tug at his hair, desperately trying to get him to just get his tongue on you already. “please, hee . . .”

the melodic moans leaving your mouth only made him more feral. he lays wet, open-mouthed kisses down your body till he reaches your waistline, looking up at you while hooking his fingers into your pants.

as soon as you nod at him, he immediately yanks them down, along with your panties.

he groans at the sight of your glistening pussy, this is so much better than staring at your fucking shorts. he uses his fingers to spread your folds, putting his mouth on the swollen bud.

the sharp whimper leaving you was absolutely beautiful.

it took everything for heeseung to stop humping the fabric of the couch — a wet patch appearing on his boxers.

his tongue explored everything. it didn’t take long for his fingers to join too. easily slipping inside of you while his nose brushes against your clit, your leg instantly twitching at the overwhelming sensation.

you exhale a shaky moan, face burning — his tongue intertwining with your folds, his fingers abusing your sweet spot, and his nose bumping your on your sensitive bundle of nerves was enough for you to cum— and hard.

he watches in awe how fluids run down your thigh, how beautiful and glimmering you are for him — how your body already knows how to prepare itself to have him inside.

he lets his fingers run through your arousal, coating them in your dampness. “you are so pretty.”

your heart flutters at his words, it feels nice to hear ‘pretty’ being used to describe you in a situation like this,

and it’s definitely much better than ‘slut’.

your brain starts to liquify, letting heeseung have the full power to take over you — how cute, your body trusts him.

heeseung takes his time undressing himself, beaming at you’re fucked out state. he aligns himself at your entrance, pushing in so slowly it’s essentially torture.

he gives you time to adjust to his size, your walls violently clamping on him. he squeezes his eyes shut, hiking your leg up till he’s so deep you feel him in your lungs.

a few choked moans exit from you, fuck, you never knew heeseung could be this big. a prominent bulge constantly reappearing in your lower stomach, heeseung could cum at the sight.

“cum for me, please baby.”

you practically cream his dick, your release triggering his.

long, warm ropes of cum shoot inside of you, filling you up so deeply you’re sure you’ll feel him for days.

In fact, both of you are so drunk on each other you don’t hear the quiet click coming from the front door.

“what. the. actual. fuck.”

your eyelids immediately shoot open, your heartbeat becoming dangerously high.

heeseung closes his eyes in frustration, suppressing a groan. you frantically push him off, covering yourself with a nearby blanket.

fortunately, heeseung hadn’t took his pants all the way off, he had just pushed them down till his ankles — grateful to his impatience, he swiftly pulls them back up.

“what the fuck- what- oh you’ve got me fucking kidding me . . . “ jake trails off mid-sentence, veins bubbling with rage.

he can’t even believe it, all of his suspicions are confirming themselves right in front of him — no. this can’t be happening.

jake swallows hardly, “do you have nothing to say for yourself? huh? what the fuck!”

“jake- relax, i’m sorry, okay? just please hear me out.”

“no, the fuck! i leave for barely 20 fucking minutes and you’re here fucking my- my little sister . . . on my couch?” he scoffs, his voice progressively becoming louder.

jake looks at you, noticing your stupid glossy eyes. “what the fuck y/n? . . . don’t cry, don't fucking cry after you let my best friend fuck you.”

“jake . . . just listen to me, let’s talk inside your room-“

“no! i don’t want to talk to you. get the fuck out of my house before i beat your fucking ass!”

heeseung faces towards you, you subtly nod at him, gesturing for him to leave.

jake let you shower, letting you clean his best friend’s cum off of you, letting you wash yourself after getting his best friend’s spit all over you, letting you dry your body after fucking his best friend.

now here you are, sat next to jake, on the same couch heeseung put himself on you.

the delicate droplets of rain crashing against the glass of your apartment window filled the silence in the air, both of you struggling to find the words.

“just tell me, why? why did you let him do this? why didn’t you just tell me from the start?”

you put your head down, face becoming warm; a warning from your tear ducts are about to be put in overdrive.

“that day, when i called heeseung, you were there, right? that was your voice, right?.”

jake doesn’t even look at you directly, instead staring at the black screen of the TV in front of him; scanning your reflection.

“yeah. it was me.”

jake exhales softly, trying hard to trap the fury inside of him. his eyes fluttering shut and open.

“but so fucking what, jake? i’m not sixteen, i can date or fuck whoever i want. why do i need your approval?”

“you don’t, but you need to tell me. especially if it’s my best friend. you don’t know anything about heeseung, he doesn’t know anything about you either.”

the air becomes cold between you two, tension becoming heavy and uncomfortable.

“i’m sorry, okay?”

“i just- don’t want to find out who my sister is dating by coming home and watching them fuck on our couch.”

“okay, i already told you i’m sorry. i wont do it again.”

jake pushes his back off the couch, balancing himself on his arms resting on his legs. “and i don’t want you seeing heeseung anymore.”

you’re pretty sure your eyes had become bloody from how fast they widened, your chest heating up in frustration.

“you don’t get to decide that. don’t do this jake, please.”

he finally looks at you, meeting your eyes.

that’s when you knew jake would never let you stay with heeseung. his eyes stay glowing with rage, and not even a single indication of mercy.

it’s been almost four weeks since you’ve conversed with heeseung, or anyone related to jake for that matter.

after a long session of crying and screaming in your brothers arms, you finally came to terms with jake’s feelings — and accepted his decision for you to never, ever talk to heeseung again.

you don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

you used to doll up everyday — you loved lace sheer tops, baby doll tops, mini shorts, wearing oversized tank tops as dresses,

but here you stand, staring at your reflection in the mirror; wearing some random hoodie that probably belonged to jake three years ago, flared jeans from last year, and to make it worse, you’re wearing your hair . . . up.

you loved doing your hair, you’ve probably done every single hairstyle in history by now— but today? you didn’t even try, and it doesn’t even look good, your breakage practically the star of the show.

also, weirdly, you’ve been feeling increasingly more nauseous lately.

your heart sinks to your stomach, an empty void forming.

“it can’t be, it just can’t.”

oh but yes it can,

tears prickle your eyes, your back crashes against the bathroom wall. you rest your hand onto your stomach, staring at the two lines.

“ . . . positive?”

kiki thoughts: alright chill this my first time writing a bit of a lengthier fic so forgive me if it’s a bit half assed… but i tried hard for reader to give that addison rae, ariana grande hyperfeminine vibe but uhh it’s not very well executed ok. okay love u all ty for one thousand!

[avizrx]

Don’t wanna wait on it, tonight i wanna get nasty ♡

heeseung and readers first night together as an official married couple! but heeseung, a man far from being a virgin, can’t wait to be inside his wifey <3 | this was a request! wc: 1000+? | kind of mean dom!hee , virgin!reader, some spanking, oral (f/m) some edging! lazy ending (im sorry.)

maybe there’ll be a part two..!

heeseung sat on your shared queen bed, the bed sinking as he sighed, laying back with his arms underneath his head. “so now we’re married, hm?” he said with a low, gentle voice, looking over at you.

“well.. yeah.” you murmured while brushing your hair, heeseung stared at you intently while biting the inside of his cheek. “attitude now?” heeseung teased, as you glanced back at your now husband, “no attitude!” you laughed “i’m just.. brushing my hair.” finishing your sentence, you looked back at the mirror.

“y/n…” heeseung breathed out with need, “i’m done waiting, baby..” he sat back up, looking you up and down. “hee, what are you talking about?” you ask, heeseung didn’t answer at first, he stared at your bare legs — all the way up to your back that was (unfortunately) clothed with a grey tight-fitting tank top.

“y/n, sweetie, be good and come here.” he said firmly, you quickly placed down your hairbrush and walked over to the bed. “mhm, hee?” you trembled, a heat pooling in your tummy for no reason (yet.) as heeseung suddenly cupped your breast in his hand.

“fuck.. these are just perfect.” heeseung moaned out, now pinching your nipple somewhat harshly. “g-gah.. hee..” you whined, trembling more than before, heeseung gently placed his other hand on your hip — guiding you on his lap.

“wh-what if if hurts-o-or uhm..” you stammer, face flushed as if you were sick, as heeseung chuckled, cupping your face. “don’t you worry your pretty head, my sweetie..” heeseung then suddenly grinned — “knees, now.” he said, taking his sweats off with his boxers.

“a-am i giving head?” you asked shyly, on your knees, looking up at your husband. “i’ve never done it, wh-what if i bite your dick off!” you said innocently, as heeseung actually laughed. “first, i don’t think that’s possible if you’re not trying to…” he said in between giggles, “i’ll teach you, yeah?” he pats your head, sitting up infront of you.

“can’t believe you’ve never done this, my angel, such a beauty you are..” heeseung said tenderly, grabbing his cock and gently smacking the tip against your lips. “so first.. just start by licking the tip, mhm?” he breathes out, hissing as you kitten licked his mushroom tip.

“yeah baby.. just like that my love..” he strokes your head, biting his bottom lip. “just take the tip into your mouth, my sweetie..” heeseung says firmly, moaning softly as you obeyed. “mhff?” you looked up at him, wondering if you were doing it correctly so far. “suck.” heeseung said roughly, grabbing your hair now.

heeseung started moving your head back and forth a little bit, “you can take me completely, yeah?” he then suddenly shoved your head, making you take him fully in your mouth, gagging loudly. “mmh-hee!” you whined, voiced muffled and body shaking as a leaf.

“shh, just suck.. and listen to me, my good girl..” he praised, moaning more now that you’re taking him completely. “ahh..ffuck—sshit..” heeseung whimpered, chewing on his bottom lip.

you genuinely couldn’t breathe, as heeseung pulled your head away, panting heavily, then lightly smacking your cheek. “get on the bed, it’s your turn, my angel.” heeseung stated with ease in his voice, laying back on the sheets with his head against the pillow.

“okay..” you mumbled, crawling on the bed, looking down quickly. as heeseung then spoke once again “sit on my face.” he blurted out with a grin tugging at his lips, as your eyes widened slightly, for a split second your breathing was suspended. though you caught your breath and gasped out, “…h-hee, you’re crazy.” you say.. your voice cracking a bit.

“am i? now listen to me and sit.” … “eh-what if i-?” he quickly cut you off, “no, you’re not gonna suffocate and kill me, and even if you did it’ll be the most beautiful death ever.” heeseung sighed, looking at you expectingly.

“…i-i guess.” you whined, your heart pounding against your ribs, quickly moving over to heeseung. suddenly your hips were hovering over his face — as he smacked your ass roughly, “do you listen? i said sit.” “a-alright..” you finally sat down.

“ngh..” heeseung moaned against your heat, his eyes shutting close in some kind of relief, “tastes good, baby…” he mumbles, making you shake and moan. “i-it feels funny..” you say, your hands in his hair as he started kitten licking your clit.

“eek..” your thighs shake, as heeseung gripped your thighs, his pace was soft and gentle — then he suddenly pressed his tongue against your clit, flicking precisely.

“ahh-! h-hee-!” you moan out, making him harder than he already was (if that was possible.) as heeseung then moved his tongue down, lapping at your juices, his thumb pressing against your nub.

already close, your hands grip at his hair, whining. “hee—‘m so close-” just as you said that, this fucker pulls back, making you whine out. “you said it felt funny, hm?” heeseung asked, “funny weird? or funny good?” “fu-funny good.. and why’d you pull back!!” you pouted.

“you’ll survive, angel,” heeseung said with a soft smile on his face “hands and knees though.” he ended his sentence, “huh?!” you blushed, face redder than it already was, “huh??” he mocked, gently guiding you off him while sitting up.

“i-ive never done anything like this before, hee…” you said ashamed, looking down with a pout on your face. “then it’ll be your first time, now get.” he ordered, sitting up on his knees, watching the view as your got on your hands and knees — such an embarrassing position.

“holy fuck you’re dripping…” he said in awe, running a finger through your wetness, gathering it on his pointer, “open your mouth.” he ordered once again, shoving his finger in your mouth.

“mmf..” you moaned, “it’s okay sweetheart, since it’s your first time i’ll be gentle, at least for a bit.” he addressed. “i-i trust you..” you said timidly, not catching what he said at the end.

heeseung started by, obviously, teasing you… smacking his tip against your clit, earning a slutty whine out of you. “h-hee..” you breath out, as he then groaned. heeseung pressed against your virgin hole, putting some pressure on it.

“ffuck..” he gasped, squeezing your hips, as he tried to go in more, a soft squeak came out of your mouth.. “h-hurts.. it’s hurts!” you thrash, heeseung smacked your ass. “stay still and it’ll hurt less..” heeseung groaned.

“fuck!” you yell out, “w-won’t fit—heeseung!!” you reach behind you, grabbing at his much bigger hand. “okayokay, i’m sorry baby..” he pulled back, taking your hand in his and softly squeezing. “it hurts, eh?” he whispers.

“let’s keep trying, maybe it’ll hurt less.”

[bywons]

ME AND MY HUSBAND | PJS

SYNOPSIS all you want is to be seen and loved by your future husband, two of the very things park jongseong has no idea about. but through unspoken protection and warm tension, jongseong lets himself love again.

OR, jongseong falls for you when a series of events pushes you both closer

GENRE arranged marriage au, angst, fluff, hurt & comfort, ‘she fell first but he fell harder’ vibe (?) slowburn-ish

PAIRING cold fiance! park jongseong x female! reader ( ft. other characters )

WARNINGS mention of bruises and fighting, alcohol, arguments, skinship, kissing, underlying misogyny ( not from jay ), crying, alcohol mention and use

WORDCOUNT 19.5k words / 19,557 words

AUTHORS NOTE hey precious readers! i would like to start this special message by an apology because one i am posting this a month late and two this is my first ever long fic. so you know the drill, i havent quite mastered to flow of long fics, so im sorry in advance if there is any type of mistakes in the story TT that being said, i chose a pretty easy topic to work with this time, so im hoping you guys will like it! arranged marriage aus and jay is definitely one of my fav combos, and i hope it delivered it well >< please enjoy and happy reading :3

FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

PARK JONGSEONG HAS NEVER KISSED YOU. 

Maybe you have never even felt his touch, the mere sensation of fingers brushing innocently against each other was unknown to you. 

And as you realise it, your chest tightens, and you dig your fingernails way too deep into your palms until they form little red crescents which burn. You realise he’d never seen you shed your tears as well, so you keep them at bay, praying that it’ll be enough to hide the storm brewing inside you. 

Park Jongseong is your fiancé, an arranged marriage. Bound to you by the weight of expectation, tradition, and a polished ring that sparkles mockingly on your finger.

To anyone else, you might seem like the perfect couple—well-dressed at formal dinners, walking side by side at events, exchanging polite smiles that barely reach your eyes. But behind closed doors, the gap between you feels insurmountable. 

Sometimes during those boring and forced events, all you want to do is to pull Jongseong closer by his arm. You want him to look at you and smile, to hold you by the waist and kiss you, to at least, acknowledge your presence in a room. 

But Park Jongseong is careful, too careful.

His words are measured, his actions restrained, as though every interaction is scripted. When he walks beside you, there’s always a polite distance, just enough to make it clear he’s near but never close enough to feel his warmth. Even when he hands you something—a pen, a glass of water—his fingers never brush yours.

It’s like he’s built an invisible wall between you, one that neither of you has dared to tear down.

“Ah—!” he winces in pain as you dab the medicated damp cotton a little too hard over his bruise on his cheeks. 

“S-sorry, I had something on my mind,” you stutter, immediately discarding the cotton into a trashcan.

“Its fine,” Jongseong whispers. 

“Wait let me see—” you reach your trembling, careful hand towards Jongseong’s bruise, in high hopes to cure it. 

“Its okay I'm fine,” Jongseong reiterates, slapping your hand away in a hurried motion.

Ouch. Does he not want you touching him? 

You gulp. The previous plaguing thoughts dawning over you once again. Doubt, insecurity and disturbance hurls at you at a threatening velocity once again, and you can feel yourself falling into a black void. 

You gulp again, your throat suddenly dry, your fingers tightening around the edge of the bathroom sink. You wish you had something to hold onto, something solid or real. Because standing here, staring at your fiancé, you felt like you were slipping into something dark and unknown. 

Jongseong sits on the marble countertop, his long legs spread apart, hands resting on either side of him like he was trying to keep himself steady. His crisp white dress shirt rumpled, the top buttons undone, revealing the faintest hint of a bruise blooming against his collarbone. His knuckles are scraped raw, his lip slightly swollen, and yet, god, yet he still looked unfairly handsome. Even now, even like this. 

You wish he would just kiss you. 

Just once. 

Just so you could taste something other than this awful, gnawing suspicion twisting in your gut.  

“How’d you hurt yourself?” you finally ask, your voice quiet but firm, pushing past the lump in your throat. The words feel too small in the vast space between you.  

Jongseong exhales sharply through his nose, shifting where he sat, as if he suddenly found the countertop beneath him unbearably uncomfortable. He lifts a hand, raking it through his raven-black hair, the strands falling messily over his forehead. His dark eyes never met yours.  

“Just fell first on my face,” he mutters, his voice tinged with forced nonchalance. “I was late to the office.”  

The explanation is simple. Too simple. Like a script he had rehearsed and rewritten a thousand times before finally presenting it to you. His words echo in the cold, tiled room, but they lack weight. Lack of honesty. 

Your fingers clench at the fabric of your sleeves as you nod slowly, pretending, for now, that you believed him. But the walls around you felt thinner, and the air between you was suffocating.  

Because deep down, you know.  

Jongseong is lying.

You nod slowly, trying to process his words, but they feel so hollow, so rehearsed. Jongseong doesn't even meet your eyes as he speaks, his gaze fixed on the tiled bathroom wall behind you.

“You should be more careful,” you sigh, ultimately rearranging all the medicines back to the first aid kit, with all your hopes of holding a long conversation with Jongseong slipping away into the trash can, “Its okay if you're late to office one day—” 

“How'd you get this?” Jongseong mumbles, his hand was flying slowly towards you from your peripheral vision. 

In a moment he stands up, easily towering over you. You can't dare to look in his eyes, so you settle yours at the loose buttons of his shirt. Your heart thumps faster as he moves in closer, a concerned yet bored tone in his voice. 

And then it finally happens, the impact takes place. The rough, calloused yet gentle pads of his fingers touch the apple of your cheeks. 

An electric shock runs through your veins— Park Jongseong touches your face. 

“Uhm- I uh I was-” you stutter, unable to form a proper sentence. 

“Weird,” Jongseong scoffs, retracting his hand. You wince at the absence of his touch, wishing it’d lasted longer. Jongseong continues, “we got hurt in the same place.” 

Your breath hitches.  

The warmth of his fingers lingered on your skin, even though the touch had been fleeting. Insignificant, maybe, to him. But to you? It was enough to leave your thoughts spiraling, to send your heart into a frenzied rhythm you couldn’t control.  

Jongseong’s expression doesn’t change. It’s still composed, unreadable, but there was something else in his eyes now. Not warmth, not affection, but something bordering on curiosity. As if he were piecing together a puzzle, one he didn’t quite care enough to solve.  

You force out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s just a coincidence,” you mutter, lying through your teeth. Because, just like him, you aren’t being honest either.  

Because your bruise wasn’t an accident.  

And neither was his.  

For a second, just a brief second, the two of you stand there in silence. The space between you feels suffocating, but not because of proximity. It was the weight of everything left unsaid. The doubts, the unspoken questions, the invisible wall that had existed from the very start.  

You want to reach for him, to bridge the gap. To ask him what had really happened, to tell him you weren’t as blind as he might think. But the words die in your throat when Jongseong took a step back, like he had just realized he’d gotten too close.  

“I should go,” he says flatly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off some invisible burden. His hand brushes over his lip, pressing lightly against the swelling before he turns toward the door.  

“Jongseong—”  

He pauses. Just barely. Not enough to turn around, not enough to give you hope.  

You clench your fists at your sides. “Be careful next time,” you finish, your voice softer, weaker than you wanted it to be.  

There was a moment where you thought—hoped—he might say something back. But instead, he simply nods once before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving you standing there, alone with your own reflection.  

Your fingers reach up, tracing the ghost of his touch on your cheek.  

Park Jongseong had never kissed you.  

And at this rate, you aren't  sure if he ever will.

THE EVENING AIR BUZZES WITH CONVERSATION AND CLINKING GLASSES.

You sit rigidly at the long aok dining table, forcing a smile.

Jongseong is beside you, distant even in proximity, his fingers lightly tapping against the stem of his wine glass. You steal glances at him when you think he’s not looking, searching for any crack in his polished mask.

Across the table, your cousin Daisy leans forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So…” she begins loudly enough to catch everyone’s attention, “how’s the arranged love story going? Still playing house or have we upgraded to actual feelings yet?”

The table erupts into laughter. You stiffen, your heart dropping into your stomach.

You try to laugh along, but it comes out awkward and brittle.

“You know, busy schedules. Hard to plan our fairy tale ending around board meetings and conference calls.”

The words taste sour in your mouth. 

You glance sideways at Jongseong, silently begging him with your eyes— Say something. Tell them it’s more. Tell them I’m more to you.

He simply chuckles, a soft, detached sound, and lifts his glass. The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Work always comes first,” he says, voice smooth, almost rehearsed.

There’s a pause. A small, hollow space opens inside your chest, which Jongseong manages to disturb.

Daisy snickers. “So romantic. Truly the love story of the century.”

Someone else jokes about putting bets on how long the marriage will last. More laughter, even more jokes. Insensitive and overlooking.

You feel your face heating up, but it's not embarrassment, it’s humiliation. And Jongseong, just sits there. Smiling politely, like he’s miles away.

You press your lips together tightly, stabbing your fork into a piece of roasted vegetable.

The moment passes, conversation flowing into safer topics, but your appetite is gone. All you can taste is the bitter disappointment.

As dessert is served, Jongseong’s phone vibrates on the table. He glances at it quickly, then tucks it away without a word. The tiny movement feels monumental. Another reminder that there's always somewhere else he'd rather be.

Finally, after what feels like hours, people start gathering their things, pulling on coats, exchanging hugs and goodbyes.

You and Jongseong step out into the chilly night. The cold air slaps your cheeks, a stark contrast to the stifling warmth inside.

You walk side by side in silence towards the car.

You can't hold it in any longer.

“Why didn’t you say anything back there?” you blurt, voice trembling despite your best effort to stay calm.

Jongseong stops walking. Turns to you slowly. His face is unreadable under the dim porch lights.

“About what?” he asks, feigning innocence. Oh, how you hate that face.

“About us,” you snap, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “When they joked, when they implied we’re just business partners?”

He shrugs. “It was just a joke. Why give them more to gossip about?”

You stare at him, blinking rapidly to keep the sting of tears at bay. “Because it’s not just a joke to me.”

He exhales, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re overthinking it, Y/n.”

You laugh bitterly. “Am I? Because it feels pretty real when you don’t even try to correct them. When you act like you’re fine with everyone believing this marriage is just some... some arrangement you’re tolerating.”

His jaw tightens. “What would you have wanted me to say? That we’re madly in love? That we’re inseparable? That I can’t breathe without you?” His voice is low, cutting. He snaps, “Would that have made you feel better? Lying to everyone?”

You flinch like he slapped you. The hurt pools behind your eyes.

“I don’t need you to lie,” you whisper. “I just—”

The words hang between you, heavy, fragile.

For a second, just a second, something flickers across his face. Regret? Guilt? You can't tell.

But just as quickly, he turns away, walking briskly to the car. “Let’s not do this here,” he says sharply. “It’s late.”

You stand there for a moment, heart pounding, watching his back retreat from you like a closing door.

When you finally move, your feet feel like lead. You climb into the passenger seat without a word. The ride back home is suffocating. Silent. A chasm grows wider with every passing streetlight.

You want to reach out, to grab his hand, to say something, anything, that will fix whatever's breaking between you.

But you’re too afraid you’re the only one who still wants to fix it.

So you stare out the window, watching your reflection blur against the passing night.

And beside you, Jongseong drives on, his hands tight on the wheel, his face carved in stone.

Park Jongseong is giving up, maybe you should too.

PARK JONGSEONG THOUGHT HIS TO BE WIFE HAD FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY.

But then he reminds himself, all these months of carrying a diamond ring of mockery on his hand— a symbol of bondage, marriage —he had never felt the fleeting touch of his soon to be wife.

And so he doesn't bother to kiss her goodbye, maybe pull her closer by her waist, whisper something not so innocent in her ears to watch her face flush in enticement, and leave for work with the motivation to come back to his fiancé’s arms.

No. He does nothing.

Park Jongseong doesn't even take the day off and stays at home. He leaves in a hurry, first thing in the morning. He doesn’t like celebrating birthdays anyway, it’s just a year closer to his demise, nothing to like about it.

He packs his briefcase in silence as he steals one last glance of you, groaning lazily as you make your way to the washroom. Of course, you have your job too, and Jongseong expected even less. It’s just a birthday, nothing too much.

9:30 am, he reaches his office building.

The heir to the prestigious, Park Company. The weight of expectation hung in the air like a finely spun chandelier, too delicate to touch, too grand to ignore. After all, he wasn’t just any director. He was Park Jongseong. The upcoming CEO. The heir.

The revolving glass doors of the company building spun to a slow stop behind him. Jongseong adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, eyes half-lidded, movements precise. He could hear the echo of his polished shoes as he walked through the marble tiled lobby, his reflection following him in the towering glass panels.

“Good morning, Vice President,” several voices chorused as he passed, accompanied by clipped bows and tight smiles.

He gave them all the same nod. Unbothered. Distant.

The elevator doors open and steps out alone, the silence laying on him like a second skin. The floor is cool and quiet, save for the typical office noises. He reminds himself that it's just another day, just another date on the calendar which could be overlooked without any problem. His team gathers up to the front door, clapping and smiling at him. Some senior executives push a forced smile in front of their young boss, the juniors more enthusiastic about someone they fear athough Jongseong doesn’t know if theirs are forced or natural.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONGSEONG,” they all sing song as confetti pops out in the air and paper freckles of his least favourite colours flutter down on him.

A distant banner said: TO THE FUTURE CEO. He shrugs, a polite smile on his face.

Among the crowd he spots Sunghoon, his first cousin as he steps out with a jovial smile and hands still clapping. He was in line to be the CEO as well, before he put down the offer to be COO instead, saying he's not a natural leader like Jongseong is.

“To the youngest CEO our company has ever seen!” he exclaims to the crowd as he stands beside Jongseong, pulling him to an encouraging hug. “What?” he snickers, “don't like the celebration?”

“No, I love it,” Jongseong hopes his smile is not too fake looking as he faces his team, not all of them are happy to be here, some are bored and waiting for their shift to be over. He sighs, “thank you guys for this, it means a lot to me.”

A celebration follows, and Jongseong does what is needed. A polite tight lipped smile, respectful bows and a small speech. Said the expected words. Cut the cake, nodded through small talk, and endured hugs from coworkers who’d never even dared to speak to him before today.

When noon rolls around, someone chirps, “We ordered lunch in! Come eat with us, Vice President Park!”

But Jongseong shakes his head.

“I’ll stay in,” he says, voice as smooth as glass. “I have calls to take.”

He turns, walks into his office, and shuts the door behind him.

Silence falls like a blanket. The cheers and loud noises quickly fade as the second Jongseong pulls the door close to his office, making slow and steady steps to his chair. He sits down on it, sighing as he lets out a shaky breath.

Birthday.

The word still rolls bitterly in his mind, not festive, not celebratory—just sharp edged and cold. A reminder of time ticking forward, dragging him further into a life that never felt like his own. A year older, a year deeper into expectations that weren’t his to begin with. The title. The company. The marriage.

He remembers the uncomfortable tight-fitting tuxedos, blinding camera flashes, tight lipped smiles of relatives he didn’t know and as usual, a script.

A script he had to learn every year, which is now installed in his brain. Jongseong just has to open his mouth and utter the same, mechanical and monotonous words in front of everyone as his parents would reassure him after, of how well he did, how well he behaved. And before he even knew it, birthdays meant nothing to him.

But then again, it was made cold and unbearable to him by the world. By his parents.

“Whatever,” he sighs and shrugs his blazer off him. And just as he’s about to throw it on his desk, he notices something.

A lunch box, covered neatly in pink satin cloth. A small note on top.

Jongseong doesn’t want to make assumptions, but he does anyway. What if it's from you? What if you really remembered his birthday? With a gulp, he steers his chair closer to his desk and picks up the lunch box, opening his cloth and reading the note in his hands, holding it up close.

Hope you like it. Happy birthday Jongseong, from y/n.

His breath falters, you remember.

His name in your handwriting. A little crooked, like you were in a rush, or were nervous. His throat tightens as he peels the lid off the top container.

And the scent hits him instantly.

Curry.

Rich, warm, and spiced exactly the way he likes it. Not the kind served at expensive restaurants with dainty portions, but the real kind. Homemade. The kind that sticks to your ribs. The kind that reminds him of chilly weekends in Seattle when he was small enough to sit on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs while his grandmother stirred the pot.

Something coils in his chest.

Carefully, he lifts the second container. The rice is shaped into a perfect flat surface. Neatly pressed, fluffy, hot. And across it—seaweed sheet, hand-cut with meticulous patience—spells out three letters.

JAY

Jongseong feels his heartbeat faltering. He winces as his offices’ air conditioning hits the bruise on his cheeks. He carefully sets the curry down on his table, before gaping at the rice again.

It indeed spells, JAY.

He scoffs at this weird feeling. The more he stares at it the more his heart burns and coils.

Only his grandmother had ever called him that. Not his father. Not his mother. No one in the stiff, lacquered halls of his youth had bothered to learn the name that made him feel… human. Small. Loved.

And now here it was. Cut delicately in seaweed. Sitting quietly in a box on his birthday.

By you.

“You’re really not going to join us for lunch?” Sunghoon barges in his office, striding towards Jongseong's desk.

Jongseong hurriedly tries to close the lunchbox, but it’s too late. Sunghoon’s eyes have already zeroed in on it like a hawk spotting prey.

“Is that curry?” Sunghoon gasps, leaning over the desk like an excited child. “Oh my god, it smells amazing. Who got you that? Is it from that expensive place across the street? Is that seaweed spelling your name? That’s so cute—”

“Get your hands away from it,” Jongseong snaps, dragging the lunchbox closer to his chest like it’s a newborn baby he’s sworn to protect with his life.

Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-reach. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Wow. Wow. Possessive much?”

“This is mine,” Jongseong mutters defensively, clutching the lunchbox tighter. “You guys have a whole lunch downstairs. Go eat that.”

“But that’s communal food,” Sunghoon whines, poking the air toward the lunchbox. “This looks special. Homemade. You should share. It’s what Grandma Jay would’ve wanted.”

Jongseong glares at him.

“Grandma Jay would’ve wanted you to mind your own business.”

Sunghoon snickers, undeterred, and tries to lunge for a bite. Jongseong immediately swivels his chair away, putting his entire body between Sunghoon and the precious lunch like a shield.

“Jesus, you’re like a dragon hoarding treasure,” Sunghoon laughs, hands on his hips. “You’re gonna die alone with that lunchbox in your arms.”

“Good,” Jongseong says without missing a beat. “But I'm not going to share.”

Sunghoon makes one last dramatic, fake sob attack at the lunchbox. Jongseong kicks at him under the desk until he stumbles back, defeated.

Grumbling, Sunghoon heads for the door, shooting Jongseong a betrayed look over his shoulder.

“You’ve changed, man,” he says dramatically. “Fame, fortune… personalized seaweed letters. You’re not the same Jongseong I knew.”

Jongseong just smirks to himself as the door swings shut again. 

Finally, blessed peace.

He opens the lunchbox once more, the smell of curry filling the room, and the sight of your careful seaweed letters warming a space inside him he didn’t even know was still hollow.

A dull sting pulses along his cheek as he chews, and his hand drifts to the bruise you both pretended not to see. He clicks his tongue, annoyed. Coincidence, he tells himself. Nothing more. But the throbbing settles under his skin like a reminder—of you, of your quiet lies, of his own.

But this time, when he takes the first bite, he laughs under his breath.

YOU DESERVED A BETTER GRATITUDE THAN A JUST SIMPLE THANK YOU.

Park Jongseong sighs as he stares at the window of his car, watching the raindrops race against each other. His fingers drum restlessly against the steering wheel, the soft patter of rain against metal filling the silence inside the car.

He leans back against the headrest, staring at the road.

“thank you for the lunch, y/n.” he said last night, “it was so delicious.”

He remembers the tension between your brows, how they knotted up gently and relaxed a second after. Disappointment. He was offhand, rushed and sudden with his words, not even looking into your eyes as he said how warm the meal was. So why wouldn’t you be disappointed? Jongseong remembers the way you rolled your shoulders back, a small sigh escaping you as if you had to physically push the disappointment out of your body, tuck it somewhere he wouldn’t notice.

“you’re welcome,” you said simply, unmuting the ignored show playing on the tv with a soft clenched jaw, which Jongseong wished he wouldn’t notice.

He knew that your welcome wasn’t genuine. And maybe he could’ve tried to find the stars in your eyes to make things better, maybe he shouldn’t overthink.

But he also remembers the way you took a second glance of him when he stood there like a robot, holding his almost empty briefcase in his hands, wanting to say something else than just a thank you.

Your eyes were cold then. Faint traces of tears sticking to your lashes, catching the soft glow of the overhead light as you looked at him like you were trying to read him one last time. He thought you would say something, maybe shout or scoff at his posture.

But nothing came out of your mouth except a tired sigh as you abandoned your discomfort and disappointment on the cold couch as you made your way towards the shared bedroom, agonizingly slow.

Maybe you had that pace intentionally, for him to call you back and say something real. Cause fuck, you remember his beloved nickname which was lost, you remember how he liked his curry, you remember him.

Lost in own thoughts, something interesting catches Jongseong’s eyes.

Is that you?

Jongseong gets startled at the sight. You, in this heavy and cold rain, trying to cross the road with your blazer above your head, which does nothing to keep you dry.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, quickly starting his car as he drives across the road, stopping just beside the pavement.

“Y/n!” He shouts your name clear in the heavy rain, loud enough for you to turn around to his voice, “get in, you’re going to get sick!”

You pause mid-step at his voice, blinking through the rain as you turn to face him. The car idles beside the curb, headlights casting a pale glow across the drenched street. His figure leans across the seat, the passenger door wide open like a quiet plea.

But you stay rooted where you are, water soaking through your shoes, the cold seeping deeper beneath your skin. Your hands clench at your sides.

“I’m fine,” you call out, loud enough for him to hear but it’s tough at the edge, shaking, “go home, Jongseong—”

“Y/n please,” he pleads, although it doesn’t sound like one, “you’re soaking wet, just shut up and get in!”

“I’m- I’m fine,” you snap. You don’t want to get in the car just because he happens to see you and is inviting you to stay dry. That’s the only case, isn’t it? Jongseong is here by coincidence, he wouldn’t deliberately check your location to pick you up in this awful weather. Would he?

“I can go by myself, the rain is not too bad.”

You can hear him sigh, as he gets out of his car, slamming the door behind him.

“Get in,” he steps into the rain, the downpour immediately plastering his shirt to his skin, darkening the fabric, “You will fall sick, y/n. Get in the car.”

He steps even closer, his hair now sticking to his forehead by this insufferable rain as he narrows his eyes. “If you want to be sick so bad, do this another day.”

Your throat tightens. You want to scream at him, shake him, ask him why he always waits until things fall apart before showing up. Why he only steps into the rain once you’re already drenched.

But instead you force your chin up, press your lips into a tight smile as you gather your blazer tighter around yourself.

“Don’t act like you care if i’m sick, Jongseong,” you didn't want to say that, but do anyways.

He blinks. For a second, his expression falters. Barely. “Why not?,” he says quietly, almost like he’s confessing something he hadn’t intended to say aloud. But then his gaze hardens again, guarded. “You’re freezing, Y/N. Stop being stubborn.”

The wind blows past you both, cold and biting. You shiver, teeth clattering as you try to recover whatever warmth the soaked blazer has to give.

“I won’t go—”

“As much as I would love to argue with you right now,” Jongseong cuts off, standing so close that your hands could meet, “I can't let you get sick.”

Your lips part, another protest rising, but before you can speak, Jongseong’s fingers curl around your wrist, not harsh, but firm. His brows draw together, rain sliding down his temples, his lips a tight line.

“I said get in the car,” he repeats, lower this time. His voice carries an edge, not pleading, not begging—commanding. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You glare at him, heart wrenching in the cold rain as it seeps into your work clothes.

“You only come when it’s convenient for you,” you try to hold it together.

He steps closer, raindrops sliding down the sharp lines of his face. “You think this is convenient for me?” he says bitterly, tone low, controlled. “You think standing here like an idiot in the rain for you is easy?”

The proximity hits you suddenly. He’s standing close, too close, as the rain damps his shirt next. Jongseong’s grip around your wrist tightens, indicating he’s not going back home without you in his car.

And somehow that warms you a bit in this coldness.

His eyes are direct, confronting as they try to soften into yours. Try, you can see it, how his eyebrows lift and slowly fall, trying to find the ease in the situation to gently pull you into the car with no trouble, with no one getting sick.

“Y/n…” he whispers your name, as if for the last time when he finally eases his brows, “get in the car. Please.”

You gulp at his seriousness, a droplet of rain rolls from his chin to fall on your cheeks. It’s cold, making you flinch.

“And if i don’t go?” you test the waters, voice trembling as you watch him roll back his shoulders.

“Then I’ll carry you,” he says without hesitation, his gaze hardening. “Don’t test me right now.”

Something in his tone makes your breath hitch. He’s not bluffing—you know that.

You swallow, lips pressing into a thin line as you hesitate, your pride warring with the exhaustion creeping into your bones. But just as another gust of wind leaves you shivering, your resolution breaks.

You look away first, “You are a very bad liar—”

Jongseong doesn’t speak, doesn’t smile or smirk or gloat. He just scoops you up before you can finish the sentence.

Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp as Jongseong’s arm slides under your knees and the other wraps firmly around your back, pulling you against him. Your soaked blazer slips uselessly from your shoulders, rain immediately lashing against your skin, but his body blocks most of it. He’s solid, unyielding, warm in a way that makes your chest ache.

“Jongseong—!” you protest, instinctively gripping the front of his damp shirt. His name tears out of you softer than you intended.

“I warned you,” he mutters, jaw clenched as he turns toward the car. His grip tightens reflexively when you shift, as if afraid you’ll fall or run. “Stop fighting me.”

He reaches the car and nudges the passenger door open with his knee, maneuvering you inside with careful precision.

When he slides back into his seat, drenched and stoic, he doesn’t look at you immediately. Just stares ahead as the engine hums softly beneath the rain. And with that, he pulls the car into drive, headlights cutting through the downpour, his hand steady on the wheel even if everything else between you trembles on the edge of falling apart.

“Take this,” he says, reaching towards the backseat and grabbing his dry blazer, “you’ll be cold.”

“T-thanks,” you don’t argue much as your teeth clatter together, quickly draping the blazer over your damp clothes.

“Y-your clothes are soaked too,” you gulp, voice soft and nervous. You glance at Jongseong’s side profile as he drives, “you’ll get sick—”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, his voice low and steady, almost too calm, “I’m not the one shivering. And it’s just a little rain.”

“So much for the guy who didn’t let me walk home in the rain,” you giggle softly, hoping to elevate his mood but his expressions remain stoic, indifferent.

You pull the blazer tighter around yourself. It smells like him. espresso, cologne and ironically, like home.

“Thank you for—” you clear your throat, taking time to rethink your gratitude towards him when he himself barely shows it. He’s always words, one or two, never sentences like you. But at the end of the day, someone has to express something.

“Thank you for the blazer, and for picking me up anyways. I know you didn’t mean to and I’m sorry for being a nuisance—”

“You’re not a nuisance,” he admits, eyes still on the road. Your heart stops. “I’m not that big of a jerk to let my fiance come home with a fever.”

There’s a silence that stretches long and sharp, the rain outside tapping impatient fingers against the windows. You sink deeper into the passenger seat, your hands curling in your lap. His words aren’t romantic. They aren’t sweet. But they tear through something inside you, a part that’s been holding itself together with hope and delusion.

It’s the bare minimum. It’s something, and something is better than nothing. Right?

“Really?” you whisper, unsure if you really heard that right.

He nods slightly, still focused on the road ahead. “What’s there to question? If you don’t want me picking you up next time, just say so.”

Your heart tugs, this is coming from him. You don’t need anything more than this quiet ride, the shared space between you, the knowledge that he’s here. Whether it’s out of obligation or something deeper.

Jongseong reaches forward, turning on the car’s heating system inside.

“You can keep the blazer,” he mumbles.

You leave it here for now, basking into the silence with his cologne around you, questioning whether or not you really have space in his heart.

RAIN ALWAYS MAKES HIM SOFT.

Not in the obvious way. Not the cinematic way where he confesses or reaches for you or lets himself be held. It makes him quiet first—eyes lingering on windows, fingers tapping restlessly, shoulders drawn tight like he’s bracing for something unseen. You notice it the moment you step onto the rooftop, the smell of wet concrete clinging to your coat, droplets sliding down the glass doors behind you.

It’s Sunghoon’s birthday, technically, though no one is really treating it like one. You almost didn’t come. Long days at work, the quiet tension waiting for you at home. But Sunghoon had called, cheerful and insistent, saying it would be “good for everyone,” which usually meant good for Jongseong.

You arrive later than Jongseong and spot him near the bar, surrounded by men in expensive suits. Business partners, maybe friends, you don’t linger long enough to figure it out. After greeting Sunghoon and handing him a gift you picked up last minute, you drift toward the railing instead, letting the city stretch beneath you.

The air is cold. Damp. The kind that creeps under your skin.

He doesn’t see you at first.

Or maybe he does, and pretends he doesn’t. He stands with a glass in his hand, ice melting faster than he drinks it, head tilted just enough to listen without really engaging.

You watch him from the corner of your eyes. Careful, as he would have been. You watch the way his jaw tightens when someone laughs too loudly, his thumb rubs the rim of his glass over and over—a nervous habit he probably doesn’t realize he has. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.

He looks up suddenly, eyes catching you the first thing he looks at besides his drink, as if rehearsed.

You look away quickly. Ever since he rescued you from the rain, he’s gotten quieter. Maybe shy. You notice how quickly he looks away from your eyes, how he hums shakily in response to your soft thank yous, how his cheeks filled with color when you wore his blazer home, rain soaked and cold.

You hope none of that was your imagination.

Sunghoon’s laughter rings behind you, bright and careless, and you force a smile as someone hands you a drink. The rooftop is warm, string lights overhead, music low and conversation easy. You lean against the railing.

That’s when someone steps beside you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” a familiar voice says.

You turn. Sim Jaeyun—coworker, colleague, friend, whatever fits best these days. Casual clothes, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy like he doesn't care. He smiles easily.

“Neither did I,” you admit. “Long week.”

“You look tired.”

“You have no idea.”

He says your name gently. He asks about work, complains about his boss, makes you laugh with a stupid story about getting lost. At some point, without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, fingers grazing your temple.

You don’t pull away.

You don’t notice the shift in the room.

But Jongseong does.

He notices the untouched drink, the way your sleeve keeps slipping, and he sure as hell notices someone else standing in front of you. Touching you. Smiling with you.

The sound around him dulls, like someone turned the volume down. He sees the touch, the way you tilt your head, the smile he doesn’t think he’s ever earned. Something hot and sharp coils in his chest.

He downs his drink.

“Vice President Park, what are your thoughts—”

He doesn’t hear it.

Another glass appears in his hand. He gulps it down. His throat burns.

The weather crawls under his skin. Anger blurs into something uglier, something dangerously close to fear.

Why are you smiling like that?

He tells himself it’s none of his business. He has no claim. You’re his fiancée by contract, not by touch, not by confession.

And yet his feet move before his thoughts catch up.

He doesn’t storm. He detaches himself from the circle, sets his glass down with too much force, and walks. Slow. Measured.

You feel it before you see him.

The air tightens. Jaeyun is mid sentence when your gaze flickers past his shoulder and lands on Jongseong.

He’s coming toward you.

Tie loosened. Hair disheveled. Jaw set hard. Alcohol makes him tipsy, but his intentions are clear.

Your heart stutters.

You straighten, fingers curling around your glass. Jaeyun notices, glances back.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Is that—”

Jongseong stops beside you.

Too close.

Close enough that you smell him—whiskey, rain, something bitter underneath. Close enough that his presence redraws the space.

“Jaeyun,” Jongseong says calmly, nodding once. Polite. Cold.

“Vice President Park,” Jaeyun replies, straightening.

Jongseong’s gaze slides back to you. Lingers on your face, the loose strand by your temple, the slipping sleeve.

“Didn’t know you were coming,” he says to you. You swallow. “I told you earlier.”

He blinks, like he’s replaying the memory too late. “You did.” A beat of silence.

Jaeyun shifts, uncomfortable. “I was just keeping her company,” he says lightly, attempting to diffuse. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

Jongseong hums low. His eyes don’t leave you.

“You don’t have to,” he says. Then, softer, but sharper. “I’ve got her. She’s taken.”

Your breath catches.

Jaeyun hesitates, glancing at you. You open your mouth, but Jongseong’s hand lifts first.

Not entirely touching you.

Hovering at the small of your back, close enough that you feel the heat through your dress. A careful, controlled claim.

“I’ll… grab another drink,” Jaeyun says. “Nice seeing you.”

When he leaves, the space collapses.

You’re alone with Jongseong.

Silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid. He looks away first, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers trembling.

“I can— can talk better than him,” he hiccups.

“Seriously, how much did you drink?” he basically reeks of alcohol and slightly sways side to side as you guide him down the stairs to the empty hallway.

“Are you—,” your sentence is left unfinished a Jongseong cages you against the wall, shaking hands on each side of your head.

He’s close, too close. His eyes are red, unfocused, flickering between your eyes and your lips. His breath is warm but reeking of whiskey. His hands stay planted on the wall, shaking, fingers flexing like he’s reminding himself not to touch.

“You shouldn’t let—” he starts, then hiccups softly, the sound almost humiliating in how it breaks his authority. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, reopens them, tries again. “Let someone who is not your h-husband touch you like that.” The words come out crooked, slurred at the edges, but the intent behind them is painfully clear.

You stare at him, stunned, then a breathy laugh slips out despite yourself. “God,” you murmur, “you’re so drunk.” His brows knit together immediately, offended and wounded in the same breath.

“So what I’m— drunk?” he demands, swaying closer before catching himself, forehead knocking lightly against the wall beside your head. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Yes,” you say, heart thudding. “Jongseong. You did.” You lift your chin, meeting his gaze even as your voice trembles. “You’re not my husband. You’re only my fiancé. And I can have my own friends.”

For a second, something hollow flashes across his face. Then he laughs, short, disbelieving.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head too hard. “No one else w-would check the—” another hiccup, quieter this time, “—weather and deliberately get wet in the rain just to bring you home safe.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, sinking deep and slow, like cold seeping through fabric. For a moment, you can’t breathe properly. You remember the rain too well. The way you’d laughed it off, the way he hadn’t, how he’d checked the rain twice and still stepped outside without an umbrella, coat already darkening at the shoulders because you hated walking alone.

“I would do that,” he continues, voice lower now. “As your— fucking fiancé or husband. Not Jaeyun. Not— not anyone else.”

His hands leave the wall. They hover instead, uncertain, fingers twitching in the space near your waist like he’s begging himself for restraint. He leans in despite it, forehead nearly brushing yours, breath warm and unsteady against your cheek.

“I would do it in a heartbeat,” he whispers.

Your chest tightens, a quiet ache blooming behind your ribs, because no one else has ever noticed the weather for you, has ever overlooked their own comfort for yours, yet some voice in the back of your head insists that he's just drunk.

But the way he says it hurts worse than any confession.

“I didn’t like him,” he admits. “Near you.”

“Why?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand comes up to his chest again, fingers pressing there like he’s trying to steady something beneath his ribs. His breathing is uneven now, shallow.

“Jongseong,” you say, alarm creeping in. “Are you okay?”

He nods too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats.

But he isn’t.

You see it when you guide him to the parking lot, cold wind tugging at your hair. He leans too much on you, apologizing under his breath.

“Sorry—sorry, I’m— I’m heavy,” he mumbles, fumbling for the car keys before giving up and letting you take them from his shaking fingers.

“You’re drunk,” you say gently. “Not dying.” He huffs out a weak laugh. “Feels close enough.”

The drive home is quiet, wipers sweeping rhythmically. Jongseong slumps in the passenger seat, eyes fluttering close like he’s afraid of what happens if he lets them stay closed. His breathing evens out only when the car stops at red lights, like only motion keeps him awake.

At one point, he murmurs your name. Just once. Soft. Unconscious.

Your hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Getting him inside is harder than you expect. He insists he can walk, immediately proves he can’t, nearly folding until you hook an arm around his waist.

“Easy,” you murmur. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” he says. “You always— always do.”

You ease him onto the bed. He collapses face first into the pillows. You tug off his shoes, straighten the blanket, careful not to linger.

When you turn away, it feels like stepping back from something fragile. You make it two steps toward the door.

His hand closes around your wrist. Not rough but enough to stop you.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, barely awake, eyes still closed. His grip tightens slightly, like his body knows what he wants even if his mind can’t form it. “Cold.”

He tugs again, weak but insistent, pulling you down to the edge of the bed. He shifts, arm draping around your waist, face pressing into your side like he’s searching for warmth.

“Rain,” he mumbles into your dress. “Hate it when you’re out in it.”

You freeze.

His words dissolve into half formed apologies, your name tangled with quiet plead. His breathing slows, forehead resting against your stomach like it’s the safest place he knows.

You don’t move.

Because for the first time, his softness isn’t guarded or conditional. It’s just him, clinging in his sleep like he trusts you not to disappear.

And you realize, with startling clarity, that rain doesn’t make him weak.

It makes him tell the truth.

YOU WONDER IF YOU CARE TOO MUCH SOMETIMES.

Because no matter what you do for Park Jongseong, it never feels like enough to quiet the ache that lives with you. Loving him feels like holding something fragile and priceless in your bare hands, knowing that even your gentlest grip might hurt him, knowing that letting go might destroy you both.

You care in a way that feels reckless. Although you do see the consequence of it, that has now finally for once, in your favour.

Jongseong doesn’t pull away after that night.

If anything, he does the opposite.

He lingers.

At first, it’s subtle enough that you convince yourself it’s coincidence. He waits for you in the mornings, jacket already in hand even when the forecast promises clear skies. He sits closer at the dining table, knee brushing yours beneath the polished surface, never once apologizing for the contact. When you move around the apartment, he follows. Not hovering, not watching, just present.

You tell yourself it’s temporary. That he doesn’t remember what he said. That the drunken softness was a one-time fracture.

After all, this whole thing is arranged, and you’ve managed to gaslight yourself into thinking this softness is just obligation wearing a kinder face. That this is him playing his part better now.

You repeat it like a rule. Like something that can keep you at bay.

But rules blur when he learns your steps.

He starts matching his pace to yours without realizing it. Slowing when you slow, pausing when you hesitate, turning back when you forget something even if it makes him late. When you sit on the couch, he chooses the space beside you instead of across the room. When you’re tired, he quietly rearranges his schedule around yours, meetings shifted, calls taken later, priorities subtly rewritten.

It’s never announced. Never even whispered.

It just happens.

And it scares you more than it comforts you. Because this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For him to care, to notice, to stay. But now that it’s happening, it feels unfamiliar in your hands. It feels like obligation. Plain obligation.

Still, sometimes you catch him looking at you with something like relief. Other times, something closer to fear.

That’s when it starts to bleed through.

In the way his fingers tighten around your sleeve when you mention staying late at work. In the way his jaw sets when your phone lights up with unfamiliar names.

At night, he sleeps closer.

Not always touching, sometimes just angled toward you, arm thrown over the empty space between your bodies like he’s reserving it. Other nights, he curls into you without thinking, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath steadying only once you’re there. When he stirs from whatever restless place his dreams take him, his hand finds you first. Barely there. But always you.

You start waking before him just to watch.

The way his brow smooths in sleep. The way his lips part slightly when he exhales. The faint tension that never fully leaves his body, even at rest. You notice the moments when his breathing stutters, when his hand presses briefly to his chest before settling again. So subtle you wonder if you imagined it.

You don’t ask, even when you know you should.

Instead, you slip out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb the way Jongseong’s arm lies over your hand, loose but deliberate, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You peel his fingers away one by one, apologizing in your head for a crime you haven’t committed yet, and pad toward the kitchen.

The apartment is still. Morning light spills softly through the curtains, pale and forgiving. You make coffee the way he likes it now, without thinking about when you memorized that detail. The realization only hits after the mug is already warming your palms.

You’re setting plates on the counter when the bedroom door opens.

Jongseong stands there, hair mussed, shirt half-buttoned, eyes heavy but searching. He looks relieved when he finds you in the kitchen, like something in his chest loosens at the sight.

“You’re up,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“So are you,” you reply.

He hums and drifts closer, leaning his shoulder against the counter beside you. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you move, each small action tracked like he’s afraid to miss it.

Sunlight catches the faint shadows beneath his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep well,” you say without thinking.

He stiffens for half a second, then shrugs. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

That alone feels like a confession.

The moment lingers too long, fragile, exposed. Jongseong seems to realize it too, because his shoulders tense, his gaze drops, and the softness retracts all at once.

“Schedule’s tight this week,” he says abruptly, voice clipped. “Might come home late.”

You nod, even though you know that’s not the reason the air has cooled.

Breakfast is quiet after that.

He sits across from you instead of beside you, answers short, eyes fixed anywhere but your face. When you pass him the toast, your fingers brush, and he flinches.

It’s barely noticeable.

But you notice.

You lift your mug, letting the warmth settle your nerves. The coffee tastes familiar, comforting in a way that makes your chest ache. You don’t realize he’s staring until he turns back to the counter and starts brewing coffee again.

“You already have one,” you say.

“I know.”

He pours it into a different mug. A plain one. You ask, very confused, “Why are you using a different cup?”

He pauses, then nods toward your hands. “Because you’re holding mine.”

You freeze, eyes dropping to the mug. His mug. Heat rushes to your face.

“I— I’m sorry,” you say quickly, already standing. “I didn’t realize—”

“Hey.” His voice is gentle. He steps closer, stopping you with a light touch to your wrist. “It’s fine.”

You look up at him, still braced.

“It’s just a cup,” he adds, softer.

Something in your chest loosens. “Isn’t it your favorite?” you murmur.

He pours milk into his coffee, hesitates, then adds a little more—your preference, not his. When he notices you watching, he clears his throat.

“I can share,” he says.

You smile, small and careful. This time, he doesn’t look away.

But to your luck, softness doesn’t last.

It creeps into the days quietly, settles into routines, hides in shared cups and matching steps. Until one evening, it snaps under the weight of everything neither of you is saying.

Jongseong comes home late.

You know it the moment the door opens, not because of the time, but because of the way it opens. Sharper. With a thud.

You’re on the couch, half curled into the corner with your laptop abandoned beside you, the apartment lit only by a lamp you forgot to turn off. You look up instinctively.

He doesn’t greet.

His tie is loosened, jacket still on, hair slightly damp like he washed his hands too aggressively and dragged his fingers through it afterward. His expression is shut tight, jaw clenched in a way that makes something in your chest tighten in response.

“You’re late,” you say. Not accusing. Just stating.

“I know,” he replies, cold.

He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t take his jacket off. Just stands there like he hasn’t decided whether to stay or leave.

Something prickles.

“You said you’d text,” you add, softer now.

His eyes flick to yours. There’s irritation there, not fully directed at you, but sharp enough to cut.

“I was busy.”

The way he says it feels deliberate.

You close your laptop slowly. “You’ve been busy every night this week.”

Silence.

You stand as if to confront him. The distance between you shrinks without either of you meaning it to.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, carefully. “But don’t shut me out either.”

His laugh is quiet. Humorless. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“You are,” you say, firmer now. “You come home exhausted, you won’t talk, you won’t let me ask if you’re okay—”

“I am okay,” he snaps.

The sharpness makes you flinch before you can stop yourself.

He sees it.

Something dark flashes across his face—regret, anger, fear, all tangled together.

“I didn’t mean—” He stops. Swallows. “You’re overthinking.”

The words land badly.

“You hate it when I watch you,” you say quietly. “But you hate it more when I stop.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides.

“You don’t get to psychoanalyze me,” he says. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“Then tell me,” you cut in. Your voice shakes despite your effort. “Stop standing five steps away from me like I’m a stranger in my own house.”

That does it.

He crosses the space between you in three strides.

Too fast. Too close.

You barely have time to inhale before he’s there. Towering, breathing unevenly, the air between you charged and dangerous. His hands come up, bracing against the wall on either side of your head.

The sound it makes is soft.

The effect is not.

Your heart slams against your ribs. You can feel his warmth now, feel the tension vibrating off him, feel how hard he’s fighting himself. His face is inches from yours, so close you can see the faint pulse at his jaw, the way his eyes flicker down to your mouth before snapping back up.

“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. Not a command, but warning to himself.

“Don’t what?” you whisper, breath catching.

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He gulps, as if holding back very specific words. “Like I owe you something I can’t give.”

Your chest aches. “I’m not asking for anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he says, voice low, strained. “You ask just by standing there. By—” His breath stutters. “By caring.”

You don’t move.

You can feel his breath on your cheek. Warm. Unsteady. His lips are dangerously close now, close enough that the slightest tilt would end everything you’ve been holding apart.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to risk.”

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tears threatening. “Why do you come back to me every night if you’re so afraid?”

His eyes darken.

Because he wants to kiss you.

Because you can see it. The way his mouth softens, the way his body leans in despite his mind screaming no. His forehead dips, brushing yours. He gulps again, eyes glued to your lips. For half a second, you think he’s going to give in.

You think this is it.

Then he pulls back.

Abrupt. Violent in its restraint.

He steps away like he’s been burned, dragging a hand through his hair, breathing hard. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks again.

“I need air,” he says, voice rough. “I can’t do this tonight.”

He grabs his jacket off the chair, pauses at the door just long enough for you to think, hope, he might turn back.

He doesn’t.

The door closes behind him, leaving you alone in the charged silence, lips still tingling from a kiss that never happened, heart aching from how close he came.

And how far he ran.

PARK JONGSEONG SMOOTHENS HIS TIE IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR.

He does it twice. Then a third time. Slow, precise movements, like repetition might quiet the unease sitting low in his chest. The mirror reflects a version of him he knows how to wear, pose and pretend. The heir. The fiancé. The man who never falters.

Except his fingers hesitate at his collarbone.

Just for a fraction of a second.

He exhales, steadying himself, and reaches for his cufflinks. The room smells faintly of cologne and starch and something warmer beneath it. Home, he thinks, before he can stop himself.

The bedroom door opens softly behind him.

“Jongseong?”

Your voice.

He straightens instinctively, shoulders squaring before he turns around.

You stand there in the doorway, light spilling in behind you, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe.

The dress drapes over you like it was designed with patience, soft fabric, gentle lines, nothing loud. It doesn’t demand attention. It invites it. The kind that lingers. The kind that stays. Your hair falls neatly over your shoulders, collarbones catching the light, skin warm and real in a way that makes something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

You shift your weight, suddenly self conscious beneath his stare.

“So?” you ask, trying to sound casual. “How do I look?”

The question hangs between you.

Jongseong opens his mouth. But then closes it back.

His eyes trace you—too slow to be polite, too careful to be careless. He notices everything: the way the fabric settles at your waist, the slight dip at your collarbone, the way your hands fidget like you’re bracing for something. For him. Because of him.

Because the last thing he remembers clearly is your breath on his lips and the way he walked away like a coward.

“You look—” Jongseong gulps, the words getting stuck between his throat and his heart. His eyes dart away from your eyes and he opens his mouth again.

“You look—”

“Sir,” the driver’s voice cuts in from the hallway. Why, the perfect timing. “The car is ready.”

The moment collapses.

Jongseong nods once, grateful and irritated all at the same time. “We’ll be right there.”

The door closes again, leaving the words unsaid. You smile at him, understanding, and he hates himself for not being fast enough with his words

----

The family house is already alive when you arrive.

Laughter spills from the open doors. The clink of glasses. Familiar voices layered over one another in practiced warmth. Jongseong’s mother greets you first, eyes sharp and appraising, a practised smile.

“You look lovely,” she tells you, hands light on your shoulders. “Perfect.”

Jongseong’s father nods at him from across the room, just acknowledging his presence with his perfect wife. But he doesn’t come up to you both for once.

“Do you want to sit?” he asks quietly, leaning in just enough that no one else hears. His voice is neutral, but his shoulders are tense.

“I’m fine,” you reply. Then, after a beat, softer, “Are you?”

He exhales through his nose. “I will be.”

That’s not an answer.

You drift toward the window under the pretense of admiring the garden lights. Jongseong follows a moment later, stopping beside you.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer to your ears.

You keep your eyes forward. “Which part?”

His jaw ticks. “All of it.”

“That’s convenient,” you say, not unkindly, just bored.

He glances at you then, eyes dark. “This isn’t the place.”

“No,” you agree, nodding. “It never is.”

Dinner starts shortly after. What is meant to be a family gathering feels like business meeting soon.

Everyone takes their seats, chairs pulled back in unison, napkins folded just so. Jongseong sits beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours beneath the table, a small anchor in a room that already feels too large.

Conversation starts harmless.

Someone comments on the weather. Another praises the dishes. Jongseong’s uncle talks about a recent business acquisition, his voice carrying authority. You nod when appropriate, smile when addressed, keep your posture perfect.

But then the atmosphere shifts.

“So,” one of his aunts says, swirling her wine, eyes flicking to you with something like curiosity, “have you settled into married life yet?”

Not yet married, you want to say, You know that.

Instead, you smile. “We’re adjusting.”

She hums. “That’s good. It’s important to learn flexibility early. Especially for women.”

Another voice joins in, you don’t recognizethe face. “You still plan on working after the wedding, right? Or is this just, a phase?”

You open your mouth, then hesitate. Choose your words carefully. “I enjoy my work.”

“Of course,” someone else laughs lightly. “But family should always come first. Jongseong’s responsibilities are already immense.”

The implication lands quietly. You are not one of them.

You glance down at your plate, appetite gone. Your hands curl slightly in your lap, nails pressing into skin just enough to ground you.

“But it must be nice,” his cousin adds, smiling sweetly, “to have everything taken care of. Some people don’t realize how fortunate they are.”

Fortunate.

The word lands softly, almost politely—and still, it sinks its teeth into you. It curls somewhere behind your ribs, sharp and humiliating, because you know exactly what they mean by it. Not lucky. Not loved. Arranged. Chosen for you. Your hands rest neatly in your lap, fingers folded just right, posture perfect, because this is what fortune looks like from the outside.

You smile because you’re supposed to, because anything else would be impolite. Your chest tightens anyway. They don’t see the waiting, the wanting, the nights spent staring at a ceiling beside a man who won’t touch you. They don’t see how much of yourself you’ve learned to shrink just to fit into this version of “enough.”

You’re just another asset for them. A doll beside Jongseong.

Your eyes burn, vision blurring just slightly, and you lower your gaze before anyone notices. Because crying here would be unforgivable.

Jongseong’s fork stops moving.

It doesn’t clatter. He doesn’t drop it. He simply stills and puts it down.

He looks at you. Really looks this time.

The way your shoulders have gone rigid. The way your smile hasn’t quite reached your eyes. The way your head tips lower, lashes casting shadows over cheeks that are just a little too flushed, eyes shining with something dangerously close to tears.

“That’s enough,” Jongseong says.

The words aren’t loud. They don’t need to be. They cut through the table cleanly, like a blade sliding between ribs.

Conversation falters. Glasses pause halfway to lips.

His aunt blinks. “Jongseong, we were just—”

“You were being disrespectful,” he interrupts, voice steady and controlled. His hand moves under the table, fingers brushing your knee once. “And you’re not going to continue.”

His cousin scoffs softly. “Oh, come on. We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know exactly what you meant,” he says. His glare flicks across the table, sharp and unyielding. “And you don’t get to talk about her like she’s a convenience. Or something handed to me.”

The silence thickens.

His mother opens her mouth, but hesitates.

His father clears his throat. “Jongseong,” he says carefully, in a warning tone. “That’s enough. This is a family dinner.”

Jongseong turns to him slowly.

For a moment, his expression falters. Not with doubt, but with something older and buried.

“Just because you never said anything to defend Mom,” he says, voice low and shaking, “doesn’t mean I’ll do the same for my—”

He stops. Breathes shakily.

“—my wife.”

The words lands heavy. Your head snaps up to Jongseong, tears almost running down.

“She is not fortunate,” he continues, eyes never leaving his father’s. “She is capable. She is intelligent. And she does not owe anyone gratitude for being here.”

A pause.

“If you can’t respect that,” he finishes, “then this dinner is over.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

You stand before anyone can respond, chair scraping softly against the floor.

“Excuse me,” you say, voice thin but steady. “I need some air.”

You move before anyone can stop you.

The chair scrapes softly against the floor as you stand, the sound far too loud in the thick silence Jongseong has carved open. Your hands tremble, but your spine stays straight.

No one stops you. No one knows how.

You walk out before the tears can fall.

The hallway feels endless. Too bright. Too quiet. Your heels click too fast against the marble as you head toward the garage, breath coming shallow, chest tight like it’s caving in. You tell yourself not to cry. You’ve done this long enough. You can do this too.

You don’t hear him at first.

“Y/n—!”

Jongseong’s voice cuts through the space, urgent in a way you’ve never heard before. You turn just as your foot slips, heel catching awkwardly on the edge of the concrete ramp.

You twist your ankle, pain shooting up.

You gasp, stumbling forward, but arms catch you.

Strong. Jongseong absorbs you without hesitation, one arm braced around your waist, the other gripping your forearm.

“Shit—” he breathes, crouching instantly. “Don’t move.”

Your ankle throbs, hot and pulsing. You bite your lip hard, tears finally spilling over.

“I’m fine,” you whisper.

“No,” he says, “You’re not.”

He doesn’t ask for permission.

Jongseong lifts you into his arms. Your face presses briefly into his shoulder, the scent of his cologne grounding you despite everything.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “I won’t drop you.”

He carries you to the car, sets you down gently, buckles you in himself with shaking hands. When he slides into the driver’s seat, his jaw is tight, eyes dark with something fierce and protective.

Neither of you speak as he pulls out of the driveway.

The house disappears behind you.

THE APARTMENT IS QUIET WHEN YOU GET THERE.

Muted, like it’s holding its breath with you. Jongseong helps you inside without a word, arm firm around your waist, movements careful in a way that feels practiced and panicked all at once. He sits you down on the couch, kneeling immediately in front of you, jacket discarded somewhere behind him.

“Let me see,” he says, voice low.

You hesitate. “It’s probably not that bad—”

“Please,” he cuts in, gentler now. “Just… let me.”

He slips off your heel slowly, like he’s afraid even the air might hurt you. His hands are warm, steady despite the tension still living in his shoulders. When his fingers brush your ankle, you flinch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs instantly, retreating. “I’ll be careful.”

He fetches the first aid kit, crouches again, and wraps your ankle with slow precision. His brows knit together, jaw tight, focus unwavering.

The silence stretches.

“You didn’t have to say that,” you whisper suddenly. “Back there.”

He doesn’t look up. “I did.”

“I could defend myself—”

“I know.” His hands pause. Then he looks at you. Really looks at you. “But I wanted to.”

Something in his expression fractures then. Eyebrows relaxes, shoulder dropping. His thumb lingers at your ankle a second too long, like he’s forming words.

You swallow. “You didn’t have to,” you say, even though part of you aches because he did. “Not against your family like that—”

“Yes,” he replies immediately. Too quickly. “I did.”

Your gaze drops to his hands, still hovering around your ankle, fingers warm and careful. He exhales through his nose, steadies himself, and resumes wrapping the bandage, slower now, like he’s afraid any sudden movement might make something crack.

“Maybe they were right,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, warm agaisnt your lap. “About me being fortunate.”

His looks up, immediately. “Don’t.”

“It’s fine,” you add quickly, reflexive. “I’m used to it.”

That makes him stop again.

“No,” he says, quieter. “You shouldn’t be. They were wrong about everything.”

You laugh under your breath, bitter. “Jongseong—”

His thumb presses lightly into your ankle, apologetic and voice soft. “Does it hurt?” he asks.

“A little.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can’t tell what he’s apologizing for anymore.

“You didn’t push me,” you try. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“I should’ve been there faster.”

You look at him then. “You caught me.”

“Still,” he insists, a crease forming between his brows. “I should’ve—” He cuts himself off, breath hitching slightly. His hand shifts, pressing briefly to his own chest before he seems to realize you’re watching.

His hand lingers at his chest for half a second longer than necessary.

Then Jongseong straightens.

The shift is subtle but unmistakable. He rises to his full height, standing between your knees, close enough that your breath catches. From where you’re sitting on the counter, he feels impossibly tall, shoulders tense, frame rigid like he’s holding himself together by force alone.

You tilt your head up to look at him.

His expression is unreadable at first. Guarded. Then something in it gives way, like a crack spreading through glass that was never meant to be unbreakable. His jaw clenches. His eyes soften, dark and conflicted, flicking over your face as if he’s memorizing you again.

“I’m okay,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

Jongseong finishes securing the bandage. The movement puts him directly in front of you, close enough that his knees brush yours, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

He reaches up hesitantly, knuckles brushing your cheek. His thumb wipes at the corner of your eye before you even realize tears have slipped free.

“You’re crying,” he murmurs, voice rough.

You laugh weakly, giving up. “I think it just… caught up to me.”

His gaze lingers on your face, your red rimmed eyes, the tension in your jaw, the way you’re trying so hard to stay composed even now. Something in him gives way.

“I hate that they made you feel small,” he says quietly. “I hate that you let them.”

You swallow, looking down as if it solves something. “I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“You didn’t,” he says, “They did.”

His hand stays on your cheek, warmer now, more certain. He uses his other thumb to brush under your other eye. Your heart thumps loud, you hate it and yet you crave it.

“You shouldn’t have to be strong all the time,” he adds. “Not here. Not with me.”

Your chest tightens. “Then why do you keep pulling away?”

The question is soft. Careful. It lands anyway.

His jaw flexes. He looks down at you, then away, then back again.

“Because if I don’t,” he says, voice dropping, “I won’t know how to keep this… contained.”

“Contained from what?”

“From wanting more,” he admits,  voice shaking at its edges. “From wanting you.”

“Do you really want me?” you whisper louder than you meant to.

That’s all it takes.

He leans in slowly, as if giving you every chance to change your mind. His forehead brushes yours first, breath warm against your lips. You can feel the trembling tension in him.

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft.

Almost reverent.

The kiss is hesitant at first, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he presses too hard. His lips move against yours slowly, learning, relearning. When you sigh into it, his control fractures.

He kisses you deeper then, still gentle but unmistakably desperate, like he’s been starving quietly for too long. His hand slides up your back, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer until there’s no space left to doubt what this is.

He trails a hot line from your lips down your jaw, then to the hollow under your ear, and you arch without realizing, breath hitching.

“Jongseong—” you whisper, when his mouth finds the tender skin at your neck. The sound breaks somewhere between his teeth and the small gasp that slips out of you trembles against his chest.

“I—” he says, voice swallowed by another kiss. “I’ve wanted—”

“Don’t,” you whisper, pleading, yet a part of you wants him to finish the sentence.

Between his kisses, your thoughts scatter and then narrow to an aching truth—you had wanted this for so long it almost hurts to finally have it.

You don’t know why, because you have always yearned for Jongseong’s warm touch. But right now, you can only hope that you won’t wake up from this.

He pauses, forehead against your temple, eyes dark and vulnerable. “I don’t know if I have the right to want,” he admits, so quiet you almost miss it. Then, louder, “But I do.”

His mouth finds your pulse at the base of your throat and presses, the kiss wet and demanding. Your hands go up, tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his strands as he deepens the kiss.

He lifts you without fussing and carries you towards the bedroom. The movement is fluid, as if he’s imagined this a thousand times and finally stepped into it. You wrap your legs around his hips instinctively.

“Careful,” you murmur, breathless, face burning up with shyness.

“I am,” he answers, voice low. “Always.”

He lays you down gently, not breaking the kiss until his forehead rests against yours and you both are dizzy with it. He leans over you lips roaming—down your throat, to the soft slope between collarbone and shoulder—leaving a trail of heated kisses like a map.

“Say my name,” he murmurs against your skin, “Call me Jay, please.”

“Jay,” you answer.

He lifts his head, mouth quirking into something close to a smile. “Good,” he says, and it’s a laugh with no humor.

Jongseong feels himself fading quietly, the way a man does when he’s held something back for too long. Every brush of your lips against his reminds him how close he is to losing the careful distance he built to survive

He’s terrified by how easy it is to forget everything else when you sigh against him, by how instinctively his body leans closer to you and the guilt eats him alive because he never allowed himself to touch you.

“Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?,” you say at one point, trying not to cry, awkward under the weight of his closeness.

“I’m sorry” he simply says, voice hoarse. “I was... scared.”

“Of what?”

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he brings his soft, wet lips to yours again, capturing you into another kiss.

MORNING ARRIVES QUIETLY.

The morning light slips in through the opaque curtains and fills the space in the bedroom. The city outside is awake, but your apartment isn’t, not really. It’s suspended in that soft in between where the night hasn’t fully let go yet.

You wake first.

For a few seconds, you don’t move. You just register. The warmth at your back. The steady rise and fall of his chest against you. His arm draped over your waist, heavy and protective, with his face nuzzled deep in your neck.

Last night comes back to you in fragments rather than a rush—his mouth at your neck, the way he carried you like something precious, the way his voice broke when you said his name. The way he held you afterward, forehead pressed to yours, breathing uneven but calm, like he’d finally stopped being cold.

You turn slowly, careful not to wake him.

Jongseong looks different in sleep.

Softer. Younger. His brows aren’t drawn together like they usually are, his mouth slack, lashes resting against his cheeks. There’s no heir, no expectation, no weight in the way he rests right now. Just a man who looks tired in a way that makes your chest ache.

Jongseong stirs when you shift slightly, his arm tightening instinctively around you. He hums, drowsy and half audible, and presses his lips to your hair without opening his eyes.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

You smile before you can stop yourself. “Morning.”

He opens his eyes slowly, dark lashes lifting, and for a split second you see it, his eye are actually soft this time. Then his expression even warms when he focuses on you.

“Did I wake you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” you whisper. “I was already up.”

He hums again, eyes drifting shut as he pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours. His breath is warm, steady. You can feel the way his body relaxes when you don’t pull away, when you fit into him like this is something practiced rather than new.

“Stay,” he murmurs, like it’s a reflex.

You smile, your hands resting against his chest, “I’m not going anywhere.”

That makes his eyes open again.

Something passes over his face. Relief, maybe, or something more fragile. His hand tightens at your waist just a little.

“You’re warm,” he says, almost distracted. “Did you sleep?”

“A little,” you admit. “You?”

He exhales softly, a sound that’s almost a laugh. “Better than I usually do.”

There’s a pause. Not an uncomfortable one. Just space.

He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, unhurried. It feels different in the daylight. His thumb brushes gently under your eye.

“You’re staring,” you tease quietly.

“Let me,” he replies. “I don’t do it enough.”

Its crazy to think how only just a week ago, this softness intimacy with your own fiance was just a dream, something that you could only imagine. Back then, his touch felt like a concept rather than a reality, his warmth something you imagined in quiet moments before sleep, never something you expected to wake up to, wrapped in it.

Now he’s here, breathing against you, holding you as if he always did, as if he was never any cold to you.

Your chest aches with a cautious kind of hope, the kind that blooms slowly, afraid of being noticed, because part of you is still bracing for him to pull away, for the walls to rise again.

He presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering, like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

“I’ll make coffee,” he says finally. “Don’t move.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t. Promise.”

He disappears into the kitchen, barefoot and rumpled, sleeves pushed up, hair still tousled from sleep. The sight of him like this, unguarded and domestic, fills you with a warmth that almost hurts.

You sit up on the bed, glancing around the bedroom as you wait.

As the duvet cover pools around you, you can’t help but wonder how he must have felt last night, after sleeping with his back turned to you for months, after restricting your touch for months. You remember the way his voice trembled when you said his name, the way his breathing finally evened out only when you were tucked against him, and you realize he must have been carrying something heavy for a long time.

Maybe, just maybe, he was yearning for you the same way you were yearning for him.

And you let yourself believe that. You believe that mornings will be like this from now on. Soft and domestic. Romantic, even.

You glance around the bedroom as you wait, trying to find to pull you out of your thoughts.

That’s when you notice the folder.

Tucked beneath the edge of the coffee table, partially hidden, beige and unassuming. You wouldn’t have paid it any attention if not for the bold hospital logo printed across the corner.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself not to touch it. You really do.

But something twists in your gut, sharp and familiar, the same feeling you had when he pressed his hand to his chest last night. The same unease that’s been following him like a shadow for months.

You stand.

Your bare feet barely make a sound against the floor as you walk over. The folder is thin. You hesitate with your fingers resting against it, heart already racing like it knows what’s coming.

You pull the paper free.

Your eyes skim at first, unfocused.

The papers inside are neatly stacked, clipped together. Medical reports. Test results. Dates. Charts.

You scan the first page. And then the words blur.

Diagnosis: Atherosclerosis.

Your breath leaves you all at once, like someone punched it out of your chest.

Atherosclerosis, a condition in which plaque builds up inside your arteries, which overtime hardens narrows the arteries.

You read the other pages. Slower this time. Clinical language. Risk factors. Progression. Treatment plans that sound too careful, too conditional. Phrases like advanced, monitor closely, high risk.

Your fingers tremble as you keep reading, as if slowing down might somehow soften the meaning.

But it doesn’t.

Is this why he always kept you at an arms' distance? Why he always left you wondering for his love? Never touched you, or held or kissed only until last night? He doesn’t actually have limited time, does he?

A quiet, broken sound leaves your throat before you even realize you’re crying. You clamp a hand over your mouth, but it doesn’t help. Tears spill freely now, dropping onto the papers in dark, blurry spots. Your shoulders shake as you try to breathe through it, try to make sense of the hurricane hurling towards you.

Footsteps sound behind you.

“Coffee will be ready in—”

The sentence dies in his throat.

You hear it. The way his voice stops, the way the air shifts. You don’t look up. You can’t. You’re staring at the paper like it might rearrange itself into something less devastating if you keep looking.

“Y/n…” Jongseong says carefully, slowing down at the threshold of the bedroom.

When you finally lift your eyes, he’s frozen near the doorway, mug in hand, color draining from his face. His gaze drops from your tear streaked cheeks to the papers in your hands.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he says quietly.

The words land softly, but they split something open inside you.

Your fingers tighten around the papers, knuckles white, the thin sheets trembling with you. Your throat burns the moment you try to speak, like your body already knows what your heart is refusing to accept.

“H-how long?” you ask, the question barely holding together. It comes out thin. Fragile. Like if you press any harder, you’ll shatter completely.

He doesn’t answer.

That silence is worse than anything he could have said. It stretches heavy, filling the space between you until your chest feels too tight to breathe.

“How long, Jongseong?” you ask again, louder this time, tears spilling down without restraint. Your voice cracks right down the middle. “How long have you known?”

He sets the mug down slowly on the counter, like even that small sound might break you further. The coffee sloshes dangerously close to the rim, unnoticed. His shoulders rise and fall once, a controlled breath that looks rehearsed. Like he’s done this alone, over and over.

“A while,” he admits.

The words feel vague on purpose. Cowardly.

“A while?” you echo, disbelief laced with hurt. Your laugh is short and broken, more like a sob caught in reverse. “What does that even mean, Jongseong? Weeks? Months?”

His jaw tightens. He drags a hand through his hair, fingers shaking just enough that you notice. He looks away from you—toward the window, the wall, anywhere but your face.

“Years.”

The word drops into the room like a blade.

For a moment, everything goes quiet. Not muted, but gone. Like your ears are ringing after an explosion.

“Years?” you whisper, the syllable barely surviving your lips.

Your knees feel weak. Your chest aches so sharply it almost feels physical, like something is crushing your ribs from the inside. You clutch the papers harder, as if they might anchor you to the floor.

“You’ve been—” Your voice gives out. You swallow, forcing the words through tears. “You’ve been sick this whole time?”

“Yes.”

The answer is immediate. Too immediate. Like he’s tired of lying, or maybe tired of carrying it alone.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” The hurt finally spills into anger, your voice rising, shaking, raw. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

He turns back to you instantly, panic flashing across his face, all that carefully built composure cracking at the edges.

“That’s not—” he starts, stepping toward you.

“Then what was it?” you cut in, backing away without realizing it. Your chest heaves, every breath uneven. “What was all that distance? All those nights you wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t even look at me?”

Your voice breaks again, softer now, more wounded than angry. Memories flood back uninvited, the cold space between you in bed, the way he always kept a careful inch of distance, the way his hands would clench like he wanted to reach for you and stopped himself.

“You made me feel unwanted,” you whisper. “Like I was asking for too much just by loving you.”

His face twists at that, pain cutting through his features so sharply it almost scares you.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, voice strained. “I was trying to protect us.”

“By shutting me out?” you snap, tears blurring your vision. “By letting me think I wasn’t enough?”

“That’s not what it was,” he insists, stepping closer again. “I couldn’t— I didn’t know how to let you get attached when I don’t even know how long I—”

He stops himself.

Your heart stutters. “When you don’t know how long what?” you take a shaky breath in, “Why after all this time—”

“Because Im dying, okay?” Jongseong snaps.

The words don’t land right away.

They snatch the land away from right beneath your feet, and for a second you feel falling down. For a moment, all you can hear is your own heartbeat beating way too loud agaisnt your ribcage.

“What…?” Your lips move, but the sound barely comes out. “What did you say?”

He looks like he regrets it the instant the words leave him. Like they tore out of him without permission. His shoulders tense, jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. His eyes are glossy. Hes not crying yet.

“I said I’m dying,” he repeats, quieter now. Hoarse, and you know that hurts him. “Eventually. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not this year. But it’s there. Hanging over everything.”

You shake your head slowly, as if that might undo it. As if disbelief alone could rewind time to ten minutes ago, when the world still made sense.

“No,” you whisper. “Don’t say that like it’s—like it’s already decided.”

He laughs under his breath, bitter and exhausted. “It kind of is.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “Then why are you standing here?” you demand, tears streaming freely now. “Why are you pretending this is just another argument we can talk through?”

“Because I didn’t want you living your life around a countdown,” he says, voice breaking despite his effort to keep it steady. “Because I didn’t want to be the reason you wake up one day alone, wondering why you stayed.”

You clutch the papers to your chest like they’re the only thing keeping you upright. “So you thought hurting me would be better?”

“I thought distancing myself would make it easier when I leave,” he says quietly.

“When you—” Your breath stutters. “When you what?”

“When I go away,” he admits. “Anytime, Y/n. My whole life is unsure. I don’t get guarantees. I don’t get to plan ten years ahead like everyone else.”

He drags a hand down his face, the movement slow, weary, like the mask is finally too heavy to hold up.

“I didn’t want this marriage,” he says suddenly, the confession sharp and honest. “I didn’t want a wife whom I can just leave behind.”

The words gut you.

“Then why did you agree?” you ask, voice small despite everything tearing through you. “Why stand there beside me, say vows you didn’t believe in?”

His eyes lift to yours then, and something raw breaks open in them.

“Because I didn’t know how not to,” he says. “Because everyone kept telling me it was the right thing. My family wanted stability. I—”

He stops. Swallows hard.

“Because part of me hoped I was wrong,” he finishes. “That maybe I’d get lucky. That maybe if I kept my distance, I could survive it without hurting you.”

Your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.

You want to scream at him for keeping something this devastating from you, for deciding on your behalf what you could and couldn’t handle. You want to cry for the months you spent feeling unwanted, for the nights you lay beside him wondering what you’d done wrong, for every time you swallowed your need for affection because you thought you were asking for too much.

And beneath all of that, cutting deeper than the rest, is fear.

Your mind keeps replaying every small moment from the past days. The way he would sometimes pause mid-step, fingers pressing briefly to his chest before he noticed you watching. The exhaustion he tried to hide behind clipped answers and silence. He was living life on borrowed time. And now it all makes a horrifying kind of sense. The distance wasn’t indifference. It was fear. Fear of attachment. Fear of leaving you behind. Fear of loving you too much when he wasn’t sure how long he’d be allowed to.

Your hands shake as you clutch the papers, the thin sheets crumpling slightly under your grip. You don’t even notice. All you can feel is the way your chest feels too small for everything trying to live inside it at once.

Anger. Fear. Grief. Love.

Love, most of all.

You take a step toward him before you realize you’ve moved. Your legs feel unsteady, like they might give out at any second, but you keep going until you’re standing right in front of him. He looks braced, like he’s expecting you to push him away, to scream, to tell him you’re done.

Instead, your voice comes out broken and soft.

“So you decided for me,” you say. Not accusing. Just devastated. “You decided that I couldn’t love you through this. That I couldn’t stay.”

His jaw tightens. “I didn’t want you trapped.”

“I wasn’t trapped,” you whisper. “I was confused. I was lonely. I was wondering every day what I did wrong.”

That hits him harder than shouting ever could.

Jongseong’s shoulders sag, like something finally gives up holding itself together. He closes his eyes briefly, breath shuddering as it leaves him.

“I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I hurt you.”

The word hangs in the air between you.

Dying.

It doesn’t sound real. It feels like a foreign language, like something meant for hospital rooms and strangers, not the man standing in front of you with his jaw clenched and his eyes shining like he’s trying not to break apart in front of you.

Your breath stutters. Your fingers loosen around the papers, and they slip from your grasp, fluttering to the floor.

“You—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help. “Don’t say it like that. Don’t say it so casually.”

Jongseong exhales sharply, like the word tore its way out of him. “I’m not being casual. I’m being honest for once.”

The room feels too small. The walls press in. You take a step toward him without even realizing it, your chest aching with something that feels too big to fit inside you.

“You really did decide a huge part of my life without asking me,” you whisper.

His gaze flickers to your lips and then back to your eyes, conflicted, raw. “Because it hurts more than anything to know I might leave you behind.”

The words knock the breath out of you.

“You already did,” you say softly. “Every time you made me doubt your love.”

His shoulders sag, like the fight drains out of him all at once. “I cared too much,” he admits. “That was the problem.”

You’re close enough now to feel the warmth of him, the tension vibrating through his body like a live wire. Your hand lifts on instinct, fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt at his chest. You feel his heart beneath it, beating hard and fast, like it’s trying to run from the truth too.

“You should’ve told me,” you say, your voice breaking. “I would’ve stayed. I would’ve chosen you anyway.”

His breath shudders. “I didn’t pity.”

“You really think that?” you say, tears blurring your vision. “It would’ve been love.”

That does it.

Something in his expression finally gives. The careful distance he’s kept for months collapses in a single moment. He reaches for you like he’s been holding himself back from doing it for far too long, one hand coming up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing under your eye where your tears spill over.

“Don’t say that,” he murmurs, voice low and unsteady. “If you say that, I won’t be able to pretend anymore.”

“Then don’t pretend,” you whisper. “Not with me.”

For a second, he just looks at you. Really looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every line of your face, every fragile breath you take.

Then he leans in.

The kiss isn’t gentle at first. It’s desperate, like all the words he’s swallowed are finally finding a way out through his mouth instead. His lips press into yours with a quiet, aching intensity, and you gasp against him before melting into it, your hands clutching at his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go.

His breath mingles with yours, warm and uneven. The kiss deepens, not rushed but heavy, loaded with everything unsaid—regret, longing, fear, love. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between your bodies.

“God,” he exhales against your lips, the word breaking like a confession. “I shouldn’t—”

You don’t let him finish. You kiss him again, softer this time, slower, like you’re grounding him, reminding him that you’re real, that this moment is real. Your forehead rests against his when you finally pull back, breaths mingling, your noses brushing.

“I don’t care about anything,” you whisper. “I only care about you.”

His eyes search yours, dark and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, lingering, like he’s fighting the urge to kiss you again and losing.

“You make this so hard,” he murmurs.

“Sorry” you reply quietly.

He lets out a breath that sounds like surrender. His forehead drops to yours, his eyes closing briefly as if he’s bracing himself for the weight of what he’s about to say next.

He opens his eyes then, and they’re wet now, shining dangerously. “I didn’t think I’d survive watching you look at me like this every day. Like I was your future.”

Your heart twists painfully.

“You are my future,” you say without thinking.

The words hang in the air, fragile and terrifying.

He shakes his head immediately. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” you demand, voice cracking. “Because it scares you?”

“I can’t promise you anything,” he says sharply, desperation bleeding through his restraint. “I can’t promise you years. I can’t promise you safety. I can’t even promise you tomorrow.”

He gestures vaguely to his chest, frustration and fear tangled together. “My body could fail me at any point. I live knowing that. I didn’t want you living like that too.”

You step closer, until there’s barely any space left between you.

“I would’ve chosen it,” you whisper. “If you’d told me, I would’ve chosen you anyway.”

His breath stutters.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you say fiercely. “Because I already did. Every night you turned away, every morning I woke up hoping you’d look at me differently. I stayed even when I didn’t understand why you were pulling away.”

Your voice softens, trembling. “Do you know how much it hurts to feel unwanted by the person you love?”

He winces like you’ve struck him.

“I never didn’t want you,” he says immediately. “God, Y/n, that was the problem.”

Silence falls again, thick and heavy.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, inhaling shakily. “Then say it,” you challenge quietly. “Say what you were so afraid to say.”

He stares at you, chest rising and falling unevenly, like he’s standing at the edge of something irreversible.

“I was afraid,” he admits finally. “Afraid that if I let myself love you the way I wanted to, it would destroy me when I leave.”

“When you die?” you whisper, hating the word even as it leaves your mouth.

His face tightens, but he nods once.

Your knees feel weak again. You reach out instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself against him.

“And the wedding?” you ask suddenly, voice trembling with the weight of the question. “Will you— will you not—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“I will marry you, Y/n.”

The certainty in his voice steals your breath.

He cups your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks where tears keep falling, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, like he’s afraid this might be taken from him too.

“I will marry you,” he repeats, softer now. “Not because I have to. Not because anyone expects me to. But because I want to. Loving you is the one thing in my life that feels real.”

Your lips tremble. “Then why were you pushing me away?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice breaking. “maybe because I have limited time.”

Something inside you shatters completely at that.

You press your forehead to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and terrifying and precious all at once. Your tears soak into his shirt as you sob quietly, fingers gripping him like if you let go, he might disappear.

Jongseong wraps his arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other firm at your waist. He holds you like he’s afraid the world might steal you away too.

“I didn’t want to give you a life full of hospitals and waiting rooms,” he murmurs into your hair, his palms caressing your back slowly. “I didn’t want to be the reason you’re scared all the time.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes red and swollen. And then press your face against him again.

His breath catches.

“If I miss someone the most in this world,” he says suddenly, voice thick with emotion, “then it is my grandma.”

You still, listening.

“She wanted to see me grow up. Be successful. Be happy.” His lips tremble as he speaks. “She wanted to share her blessings with my future wife.”

He swallows hard. “But she couldn’t. She didn’t get to see any of it.”

Your heart aches as he continues, voice barely holding together.

“If she’d be here, you would love you,” Jongseong’s voice cracks, but he lets out a melancholic laugh through it. It cracks, brings water to his eyes.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to look at you.

“I...” His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

“I love you,” he repeats, like he needs to hear himself say it. You bring your head up to see him again. A tear slips past his cheeks, enhancing his now flushed features. Jongseong’s breath hitches, “I’m sorry for being a bad fiancé, I’m sorry I made you doubt. But I love you, god, I do.”

A broken laugh slips out of you through your tears.

“I love you enough that it hurts,” he continues, pressing his forehead to yours. “And I should have said this sooner to you.”

You cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the tears he’s finally letting fall.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling through tears, “Just don't love me halfway anymore.”

He nods slowly, eyes closing as he leans into your touch. “Then stay,” he murmurs. “Even if it’s scary.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, echoing your words from this morning, but now they carry weight. Promise. Choice.

He kisses you then. Again. Not desperate like last night. Not restrained like before. But full and trembling and honest, like he’s finally stopped running from the truth.

And when he holds you afterward, arms tight and protective, you don’t care about anything else in this world.

Park Jongseong has finally kissed you, heck, he's even holding you. And even if he can't do that forever, it’s all that you ever wished for.

EPILOGUE

The wedding does not feel like how weddings are described in stories.

There is no loud music spilling into the street, no crowd pressing in on every side, no overwhelming spectacle. It is small, intimate to the point of fragility, held in the quiet hall of an old heritage house on the outskirts of the city, where the windows are tall and the light filters in pale and gentle, as if even the sun is careful not to intrude too loudly on something this delicate.

Both your families wanted a huge crowd, too many heads to feed in the wedding; but much to their bad luck, Jongseong had stood his ground. He’d said it calmly, without raising his voice, without the sharp edge he used when he was tired or in pain. He didn’t want a stage. He didn’t want a day that felt like it belonged to everyone except the two of you. He wanted something small enough to breathe in. Something that wouldn’t exhaust him before the vows were even spoken, that would feel like yours.

So here you are.

The guest list is trimmed down to the people who matter, the people who know—at least partly—what this day costs him and what it means. There are no distant relatives you barely recognize, no business acquaintances pretending this is a celebration more than a formality.

Except Sunghoon brought in his whole friend group back from his college days, to which Jongseong knew he couldn’t say no to.

Your mother had argued, of course. His family had too. There were expectations. But Jongseong had only said, “Y/n doesn’t want crowds, and I want us to live our wedding day and not rehearse it.” And that had been the end of it.

The hall is simple. Old wood floors that creak softly under careful steps. White fabric draped along the walls. A narrow aisle lined with lilies that smell clean and faintly sweet. The kind of place that feels more like a promise.

You stand at the far end of the aisle, hands folded in front of you, trying to steady your breathing.

Your dress is lighter than you expected it to be, the fabric falling in soft lines instead of stiff layers. You wanted something you could move in. Something that wouldn’t weigh you down. Something that felt like you. The veil brushes your shoulders, and for a moment you close your eyes, just to take it in.

This is real.

When you open them, you see him.

Jongseong is already at the front, standing beside the officiant, posture straight but not rigid. He looks.fragile, in a way that makes your chest tighten. The suit fits him perfectly, but you can see the faint signs of fatigue he never quite manages to hide. The slight hollowness beneath his eyes. The careful way he holds himself, like he’s measuring his energy even now.

And still, when he looks at you, everything else falls away.

His expression changes the moment your eyes meet. The tension in his shoulders eases, just a little. His lips part, like he forgot to breathe for a second. There’s something raw there. Something open. Something that makes your throat ache.

You start walking.

Each step feels slow, because your body seems to understand the weight of this moment better than your mind does. The quiet hum of the room wraps around you. You’re vaguely aware of people watching, of soft movements, of the way the light catches in the tall windows, but mostly, there’s just him.

With every step, memories rise up uninvited.

The distance that used to sit between you like a wall. The silence. The nights you lay awake wondering what you had done wrong. The day you found the papers. The way his voice broke when he said he was dying. The way he looked at you like he was both terrified and relieved that you knew.

And then the nights after that. The long talks. The quiet understanding. The way he started reaching for you again, slowly, like he was relearning how to trust himself with your heart.

You stop in front of him.

Up close, you can see the way his hands are clasped together, fingers tight, knuckles pale. You can see the faint tremor in his breath. But you can also see the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, like you are the only steady thing in a world that keeps shifting under his feet.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

The officiant clears their throat gently and begins, their voice low and respectful, as if they, too, understand that this is not a day for grand speeches. The words drift around you—about love, about commitment, about choosing each other not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard.

“In sickness and in health” lands heavier than the rest.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, and Jongseong notices. His gaze flickers to your hands, then back to your face, and he gives you the smallest nod. Like he’s reminding you. Like he’s reminding himself. We’re here. We’re still here.

When it’s your turn to speak, your heart is hammering so hard you’re afraid your voice will shake.

But when you look at him, really look at him, the words come out steadier than you expect.

His eyes shine, but he doesn’t look away.

When it’s his turn, he swallows hard before speaking.

“I spent a long time trying not to want this,” he admits. “I thought distance would protect you. I thought if I didn’t let you get too close, it would hurt less when…” He stops, breath catching, then continues more softly. “When I leave. I was wrong. All I did was waste time I could have spent loving you properly.”

His voice steadies, just a little.

“I can’t promise you forever. I wish I could. But I can promise you honesty. I can promise you every day I’m given. I can promise you that as long as I’m here, you won’t face anything alone.”

Your eyes burn, but you don’t look away.

When the rings are exchanged, his fingers linger around yours, like he’s afraid of letting go even for a second. When he leans in to kiss you, it’s gentle, unhurried. Not a performance. Not for the room. Just for you.

And when the officiant declares you married, there’s no thunderous applause. Just soft clapping. Warm smiles. A quiet, collective exhale.

The room exhales around you, a collective softening now that the vows have been spoken and the weight of them has settled into something real. There’s a quiet shuffle of movement as people begin to rise from their seats, the soft murmur of congratulations beginning to bloom through the hall. The light shifts as a cloud passes outside, turning the windows briefly dimmer, then bright again.

Jongseong’s hand is still wrapped around yours.

His palm is warm, his grip a little too tight, like he’s anchoring himself to the reality of this moment. You squeeze back, a silent reassurance, and he looks down at you with something fragile and bright in his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or disbelief that he’s actually here, standing beside you, that the day did not break apart before it could begin.

“You okay?” you whisper, leaning in so only he can hear.

He nods. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”

You recognize the tone. The carefulness. The way he’s learned to pace himself, even in moments meant to be joyful. You don’t press. You just stay close, your shoulder brushing his arm, your presence a quiet support rather than a demand.

The officiant steps aside, offering you both a small, gentle smile. Someone from the back laughs softly—Sunghoon, probably—trying to cut through the heaviness with something familiar. Your mother wipes at her eyes, her expression torn between pride and worry. His family watches him closely, too closely, like they’re counting his breaths without realizing it.

You and Jongseong take a step forward together.

The motion is small, but you feel the shift in his balance immediately. It’s subtle, you feel it in the way his fingers tighten around yours, in the way his shoulder brushes yours a little harder than before.

“Jongseong?” you murmur.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically, the words practiced. He gives you a faint smile, the kind he uses when he doesn’t want to worry you. “Just stood up too fast.”

You search his face. The color has drained a little, leaving him paler than before. There’s a sheen of sweat at his temple that wasn’t there moments ago. Your chest tightens with a familiar, creeping fear.

“Do you want to sit for a bit?” you ask quietly. “We can—”

“I don’t want to sit,” he replies, more firmly than you expect, though his voice is still gentle. “I want to walk out with you. Just… slow, okay?”

So you walk slowly.

Each step is measured, careful. The old wood floor creaks beneath your feet, a soft, grounding sound. The lilies lining the aisle blur in your peripheral vision. You keep your attention on him, on the steady rise and fall of his chest.

His inner world feels loud in a way you can almost sense without him saying anything. There’s a stubborn pride in him, a refusal to let this moment be overshadowed by his body’s limits. He has fought for this day. He has insisted on being here, standing, choosing this with you. The thought of needing help, of letting weakness show in front of everyone, presses against something old in him.

And yet, even as he tries to hold himself together, there is a quieter fear threading through him. A whisper that this might be too much. That joy, even when it is gentle, still costs him something.

Your own thoughts are no less tangled.

Part of you is floating, still wrapped in the soft glow of being married, of hearing him say vows that felt like a promise against the dark. Another part of you is coiled tight with worry, hyper-aware of every change in his breathing, every slight falter in his step. Loving him has taught you this strange duality, how joy and fear can exist side by side, neither fully eclipsing the other.

You reach the middle of the aisle.

There’s a soft ripple of applause, gentle and restrained, as people make space for you to pass. Someone murmurs congratulations. Someone else whispers his name, concern threading through the sound. The room feels warmer than before, or maybe that’s just your nerves making everything feel too close.

Jongseong exhales, long and slow.

“I’m glad we did it like this,” he says under his breath. “Small. Quiet.”

You smile up at him, though your heart is beating too fast. “Me too.”

His gaze lingers on you, something tender and aching in it, like he’s trying to hold onto this exact version of you in this exact moment. Married. Here. Alive in front of him.

“You look…” he trails off, then shakes his head slightly, eyes glues on yours. “You look like something I don’t deserve.”

You start to protest, but the words die in your throat when you feel his grip falter.

It’s subtle at first, the tension in his fingers loosening, his hand slipping slightly in yours. His step stutters. His breath catches.

“Jongseong?” you say, louder now.

The room seems to tilt.

For a second, he’s still standing, eyes unfocused, like he didn’t expect this to happen now, of all times. His inner world fractures in that moment.

“I’m okay,” he tries to say, but the words come out wrong, thin and unconvincing.

Then his knees buckle.

The world lurches forward in a rush of motion and sound. You feel his weight shift suddenly, too heavy, too fast. Your grip tightens instinctively as you reach for him, calling his name as the room erupts into startled gasps, chairs scraping back, someone shouting for help.

Your arms wrap around him as he falls, your body bracing against the impact, heart slamming painfully against your ribs.

“Jongseong—!”

The lilies blur into white streaks at the edge of your vision. The quiet hall fractures into chaos, voices overlapping, footsteps rushing closer. You sink to the floor with him, cradling his head against your chest, your hands trembling as you search his face.

His eyes are half-lidded, breath shallow but there, still there. His brow is drawn, like he’s fighting to stay with you.

“Stay with me, please,” you whisper, the words pouring out like a plea. “A-Always” Jongseong breaths out.

Around you, the room is a blur of motion and worry, but your world has narrowed to the feel of his weight in your arms, the fragile warmth of his skin against yours, the uncertain rhythm of his breathing.

AUTHORS NOTE if you enjoyed this, even the smallest bit of love and feedback encourages me<3

hello hello again! thank you so so much for reading this all the way and making it through here 💗 i decided for the ending to be open because making jay pass away would be too sad and i couldnt think of any other endings 😞 so for my angst ending haters, you can just pretend that the epilogue never happened!!! phew, its finished and i definitely took way more time than i should've, but like i was sooo confused on this one. anyways, please let me know how it was and reblog to support! see you in my next long fic 😛

edit: and now to clear up some doubts about the ending, jay doesn't actually passes away in the ending! its just shown that he collapses to the ground, and whatever happens after that is left to your imagination, making this an open ending! once again, thank you for reading <3

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