hi luv!!!!! I had an idea for a story in my mind for quite a while. I don't know if you will be comfortable with something like this but that's what i've been thinking: At least as we know, Jiyong has been single for a long time now. What about a story where he finally gets into a relationship but he is not as confident in relationship as he used to be when he was younger and when it comes to there first time together he's very nervous and because of that he struggles to get hard (well after all he's not so young anymore 🤭) and later he's in general very sensitive and yearning because it's been quite a long time since he's done that.
Hi hun, thank you so much for your request. I really hope you’ll enjoy it 💚
About story: After years of being single, Jiyong finally allows himself to fall into a real relationship again, but intimacy feels more overwhelming than he expected. When he invites you to his penthouse for the first time, the night becomes tender, vulnerable and deeply emotional. His nerves get the best of him, but instead of turning away, you stay, reminding him that love is not about perfection. It is about trust, patience and being wanted exactly as he is...
Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x reader
Word Count: 3,213 | Oneshot
Content Note: New relationship, romance, fluff, nervous Jiyong, anxiety, emotional vulnerability, reassurance, first time together, soft smut, explicit sexual content, praise, yearning, emotional intimacy
You and Jiyong have been seeing each other for several weeks now, and it’s the sweetest relationship you’ve ever experienced in your life. Or rather, Jiyong is sweet in the way he’s so unsure of himself, constantly asking whether you really want to be with him, whether you’re really dating, whether having flowers regularly delivered to your workplace with handwritten notes is too embarrassing, and whether it bothers you... It’s not embarrassing at all, and it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Quite the opposite, because you feel loved in a way you’ve never felt loved before.
Right at the beginning of your relationship, Jiyong honestly told you that his workload had never really allowed him to sink too deeply into anything serious, and that he can’t even count how many years it is since he last truly dated someone. He was open and honest with you, and that was the first thing about him that impressed you the most. The fact that he makes time for you whenever his schedule allows it is all the reassurance you need that you love him as much as he loves you.
Tonight feels like a turning point in so many ways, because for the first time, he’s invited you to his home, to his penthouse in Hannam-dong. He’s ordered dinner from your favorite restaurant and keeps refilling your glass with the same wine you had together on that first night, when Seunghyun introduced you to each other.
You haven’t slept together yet. A few times, you’ve come close, when your kisses became deep and passionate, but you’ve never gone any further. In those moments, Jiyong almost seems to stop breathing, and you always get the feeling that the intensity of an intimate moment he hasn’t experienced in such a long time might make him faint. You never push him and you never rush him. You understand that beneath the shell of the confident king of K-pop is a man worn down by years of complete emotional and physical isolation, a man who has somehow lost the ground beneath his feet. You give him enough time, and he’s unbelievably grateful for your patience, which he tells you more than once.
Tonight flows in a quiet and peaceful spirit. After dinner, you move to the enormous, comfortable sofa in his living room. Jiyong opens up to you more and more, sharing things with you that he hasn’t told anyone for years. Mostly, he talks about loneliness and about how difficult it is, in his position, to let someone come closer.
You notice that with every refill of wine, Jiyong shifts closer and closer to you on the sofa, his arm resting on the back of the sofa right beside your shoulders, and how hungrily he returns your kisses whenever your conversation slips into kissing.
When the hands of the clock show that it’s deep into the night, your conversation naturally fades, and the silence between you is filled with unspoken wishes and desires. You glance over your shoulder at the pitch-black darkness beyond the large window, then look down at your phone to check the time.
“I should go home. It’s really late,” you say quietly, and your voice in that enormous room feels like a soft cut through the tense atmosphere.
Jiyong panics in that moment. “You can stay!” he blurts out before he can even process the words in his head. “If you want to...” he adds more quietly, blushing as he lowers his gaze to the floor. He places his hand over yours and laces your fingers together, as if he’s not sure whether this is enough proof that he’s unbelievably happy to have you there and doesn’t want you to leave, as if he’s not sure whether he’s showing you clearly enough how much you matter to him. He doesn’t want to be alone, and he wants you close. From the look on his face, your smile, your nod, and the squeeze of his hand are the most beautiful unspoken answer he could have received tonight.
He slowly rises from the sofa and reaches out his hand to you. You walk to the bedroom together, and for the first time, you see the place where he’s spent long years alone, and where he’s now allowing you to be with him...
For a while, you stand in silence across from each other, each on one side of the bed, until you are the first to grab the hem of your T-shirt and pull it off. Then you reach for the zipper of your jeans and slip them down, while Jiyong mirrors your movements and, with his head lowered, struggles for a moment with his belt. The only thing breaking the silence of the bedroom is the soft rustle of clothes being set aside. Of the two of you, you’re the first to lie down beneath the light duvet, and Jiyong follows you.
As soon as he lies down, he turns onto his side to face you. In the dim light of the bedroom, his eyes shine with desire, but also with deep fear. Slowly, he lifts his hand and strokes your cheek with the backs of his fingers. His touch is so unbelievably gentle that you can feel the slight tremble of his fingertips against your skin.
“Do you really want to stay?” he whispers, his voice full of doubt. “If you don’t, I’ll call the driver and...”
You don’t let him finish. You move closer to him and kiss him for the first time since you came into the bedroom.
“Ji, I want to be here more than anywhere else in the world... with you. Do you believe me?”
“I believe you,” he breathes softly, leaning in to kiss you again.
His kisses are cautious at first, as if he’s still making sure he’s allowed, still making sure you want this as much as he does. You pull him closer and bury your fingers in his hair, and somewhere in that moment, some of the tension held inside Jiyong’s body begins to loosen.
You help him when he nervously struggles for a moment with the clasp of your bra. The duvet slips a little lower over you both as Jiyong slowly moves above you. He braces himself on his elbows, and his chest touches yours.
“You’re so unbelievably beautiful,” he whispers as his thumb brushes over your nipple, which tightens instantly beneath his touch, making your back arch under him. “I want this to be perfect for you. I want to give you everything...”
“Everything has been perfect since the moment I'm with you,” you reassure him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
You can see in his face how fiercely the desire to please you and not disappoint you is driving him.
Slowly, he slides his right hand down from your breasts, over your stomach, and down to your core. His fingers still tremble softly as his hand slips lower between your thighs, exploring every untouched part of your body beneath the pads of his fingers. When he feels how warm, slick, and ready for him you are beneath the gentle, circling motion of his touch, he freezes for a moment and holds his breath. He watches your face with complete attention, your parted lips, and lets out a quiet moan with you when his middle finger slips deeper inside you.
From the reactions of your body, he knows exactly how much you want him, and it fills him with an unbearable desire for you. At the same time, it only deepens his fear of failing. The thought that he might disappoint you creates such mental and physical pressure inside him that your body affects him like bright light affects someone who’s finally stepped out of years of darkness.
The pressure he’s unconsciously putting on himself, the long years of emotional and physical isolation, and the desire to be the perfect man for you turn into a paralyzing block. The muscles in his back and shoulders tighten, and you feel him hold his breath again for a moment, trying to calm himself and focus. Mentally, he loves you with every cell in his body, but physically, his body refuses to cooperate...
He lies above you, trapped between your thighs, and pure panic reflects in his eyes. He bites down on his lower lip and, desperate to save the situation, slides one hand between your bodies and starts touching himself. His palm moves over his cock again and again, firm and urgent, as he desperately tries to force his own body to respond. He grips himself, strokes himself, the muscles in his stomach tightening almost painfully as he tries to get hard, tries not to ruin this night that matters so much to him, the night he imagined since the moment you first kissed. The harder he tries, the more his body refuses to cooperate, and Jiyong begins to understand that all his effort and all his attempts are useless...
He’s breathing as if he’s run a marathon, his face close to yours, and you see every kind of emotion crossing it before he suddenly pulls away from you and drops onto his back beside you on the bed. He covers his face with his palms, pressing his fingers tightly against his closed eyes. You can imagine exactly what’s running through his mind right now, how badly he wants to disappear and hide from your gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into his hands. “Fuck, I... I’m sorry. This has never... I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so nervous, and I’ve been alone for so long...”
He finally lowers his hands from his face, but he doesn’t dare look at you. Instead, he stares up at the ceiling.
You watch his profile, the way his eyes glisten as if he’s only waiting for you to leave so he can sink back into the darkness and loneliness of his bedroom and finally break down completely. But you absolutely don’t want him to run back into his own darkness and shut himself away from you again...
“Maybe... maybe you should go. I don’t want you to see me like this, and I’ll understand if... if you never call me again,” he says after a moment, turning his head away from you as his chest rises sharply and his shoulders tremble with the effort of holding back tears.
You move closer to him, take his chin, and with a gentle motion make him look at you. He looks so unbelievably fragile and hurt that, for a moment, you forget how to breathe.
“Ji, I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here... be here with you,” you say quietly but firmly, wiping away the tear that slips from the corner of his eye with your thumb.
“Y/N... you don’t have to pity me or comfort me... Just leave me here. I don’t want you to see me like this...”
“But I don’t pity you, and I’m not trying to comfort you. I simply want to be with you, do you understand? I don’t want to go home. Right now, I want to be here,” you say, kissing his cheek before reaching for his hand to lace your fingers together. “You put too much pressure on yourself and you think about everything too much... I love you with every fear you carry, and I love you exactly as you are...”
You feel Jiyong’s breathing calm at least a little when his gaze drops to your intertwined fingers. You’ve told him for the first time that you love him, and at those words, Jiyong’s shoulders ease slightly from the unbearable tension held inside them, as if hearing the words “I love you” means that, after an unbelievably long time, he can feel wanted and desired again, with all his strengths and all his flaws.
You know that in this moment, he needs to know he’s unique to you, perfect and beautiful exactly as he is. You lean down to him, kiss him on the lips, and then rest your forehead against his temple so your lips are just inches away from his ear. Meanwhile, your hand glides gently over his far too sensitive nipples, and he lets out a soft moan with every touch. His skin is so starved for human contact that every brush of your fingertips feels impossibly intense to him.
“You’re so beautiful... inside and out. I love every part of you,” you say, pressing a kiss beneath his ear. “Just focus on me and enjoy it...” you whisper as your hand moves lower over his body, caressing the soft skin along the inside of his thighs.
You try not to rush him, but your hand deliberately slides over his cock and squeezes gently. Jiyong gasps loudly at the touch, buries his head in the pillow, and squeezes his eyes shut.
All it takes is for you to hold him more firmly at the base and quicken the pace of your hand’s movements, and Jiyong arches his hips with a broken inhale, moving into your touch. With kisses, you travel back up toward his face and kiss his parted lips. Your tongue gently traces his lower lip before slipping into his mouth. You see the tense pulse beating in his throat, and the way his brow tightens with every stroke of your hand.
“Y/N... I think I’m going to lose my mind,” he moans, almost breathless, as your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and you catch the first drop of his precum. At that touch, Jiyong’s eyes fly open. He props himself up on one elbow and pulls you closer with his other hand, deepening your kiss. He kisses you with such intensity that it feels as if he’s trying to draw in all the warmth you’re offering him through your mouth. You feel him pulse beneath your touch, feel how sensitive he is. Every movement makes him moan softly into your mouth.
Slowly, without breaking the kiss, he moves above you. Every movement is unbelievably careful as he plants one knee on the mattress between your thighs, which open naturally and willingly beneath him, while one hand braces beside your head.
When your lips part with a soft, wet sound, he stays only a breath away from your face. His lips are slightly swollen from your kisses, and he looks so impossibly beautiful that, for a moment, your breath catches. You stroke his cheek, and he automatically leans into your palm.
“I love you so unbelievably much... I can’t put into words what you do to me, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me”.
“I love you even more, Ji,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.
You lift your hips just enough to rub yourself against his erection, and Jiyong sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth at the movement. You don’t need to speak anymore as Jiyong reaches down to himself and guides himself to your entrance. His gaze doesn’t move even an inch. He keeps looking into your eyes as he slowly pushes inside you.
You wrap your legs around his hips and meet him as much as you can while burying your fingers in his hair.
“I want you so much, Ji...” you moan into his ear, and he moans quietly when your muscles tighten around him. “I’m all yours, only yours...”
Jiyong begins to set the rhythm of his thrusts himself. At first, he’s unbelievably careful, his movements slow and deep, and he experiences every motion with an intensity that borders on complete sensory madness.
“You fill me so good, Ji...” you moan, letting your head fall back as your muscles tighten around him with every thrust, the friction agonizingly beautiful for both of you.
Helpless, quiet sounds tear from both your throats, and your breathing quickens with the growing pace of Jiyong’s thrusts. His initial caution begins to turn into pure urgency under the force of his overwhelming sensitivity.
“You’re driving me insane,” he moans against your mouth before kissing you hungrily again.
His tongue tangles with yours in the same rhythm as his body moves inside you. You dig your nails into his back, trying to pull him even closer.
Jiyong moans loudly, giving himself to you with every thrust, and every one of his sounds and movements makes you moan louder too.
“I’ve already lost my mind over you... I’ll never give you to anyone else... you’re mine, only mine,” you moan when your lips part for a moment and Jiyong’s rhythm grows more chaotic, more desperate.
He catches your hand, laces his fingers through yours with desperate need, and squeezes tightly.
“Y/N... God, Y/N,” he moans desperately as his body starts to tremble as if with fever, his orgasm drawing close.
Your back arches, because the sight of his face alone, his focused expression and parted lips, would be enough to push you over the edge. The last few thrusts are enough for Jiyong to spill inside you with an intense moan of your name, burying his face deep in your hair. He comes with such force that, for a second, it almost makes him dizzy. He grips your fingers in his so tightly, as if you’re the only lifeline in the world, and in that same moment, you moaned loudly and reached your orgasm together with him.
As your breathing slowly returns to normal, only silence remains in the bedroom. You barely notice that outside the window, the sky has begun to turn gray and dawn is drawing closer. Jiyong kisses you first, then moves lower. With complete surrender, he rests his head on your bare stomach and keeps his fingers laced with yours. He turns his head toward you and quietly watches your face. With your free hand, you gently comb through his hair and massage the nape of his neck.
“I still can’t stop looking at you,” Jiyong whispers softly, his lips trembling a little. “I’m still so afraid that if I close my eyes, you’ll disappear and I’ll be here alone...”
You stroke his cheek. “Come here,” you urge him, pulling him up toward you.
Jiyong doesn’t hesitate for even a moment. He moves higher against you, buries his face in your neck again, and exhales in relief.
“I won’t disappear, I promise,” you say quietly as you run your fingers through his hair again and press him closer to you. “You’ll have a lot of work to do if you want to get rid of me...”
Jiyong doesn’t fight it and laughs softly into your neck before kissing your temple and pulling the duvet over both of you.
You feel Jiyong’s breathing slow with every passing minute, feel his body growing heavier and more relaxed in your arms. He exhales deeply and contentedly against the skin of your neck, a soft, barely visible smile settling on his lips. He falls asleep with the most beautiful certainty he could have after years of loneliness, the certainty that when he opens his eyes again in a few hours to a new day, the first thing he’ll see will be your loving face, and the first thing he’ll feel will be your morning kiss...
My dearest ones, my requests have been paused for way too long, and I finally feel like it’s time to officially open them again... So yes, you can send your requests again! 🟢
Just a little note: some requests did come to my inbox even during the pause, and I still have a few older ones, along with request series, waiting for me to start working on them. I’ll still be working on all of them too, of course, so don’t worry.
Have the most beautiful rest of the week! I love you, and thank you so much for being here 💚
Heyy can you Maybe make pt2 of the jiyong story about the twin boys. Like when they are Born or maybe when the twins are like 5/6 something like that and how jiyong is with them.
Hi, my dear! Thank you so much for this request. It’s probably the sweetest soft and fluffy thing I’ve written so far, so I really hope you’ll enjoy it 🩵
About Story: Years after learning you were having twin boys, Jiyong comes home from tour to the family he was once terrified he wouldn’t know how to raise. Between sleepy morning chaos, breakfast, painted sneakers, bedtime stories and quiet confessions in bed, he realizes that the life he feared has become his whole universe...
Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x Reader (established relationship)
Word Count: 2,998 | Oneshot / Sequel to Soft in a Hard World
Content Note: Post-tour reunion, parenthood, twin boys, domestic fluff, emotional healing, soft intimacy, family bonding, hurt/comfort undertones
Read Soft in a Hard World first for context
There had been peace in the penthouse for a long time, but now your trained ears catch quiet whispering and chirping, and it immediately grabs your attention. You put down the book you’ve been reading on the coffee table and slowly walk into the hallway leading to your bedroom. Kian and Kion are standing in front of the bedroom, trying to discuss something very quietly, which in reality isn’t quiet at all.
“What kind of mischief are you two planning here?” you whisper as you come closer and crouch down beside them, as if you want to become part of their secret little club. “It’s early. Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”
“You’re not sleeping either, eomma,” Kian says, and Kion nods in agreement. “We wanted to see if appa is awake already,” he adds right away, explaining this whole gathering taking place in front of your bedroom door.
“Appa needs to sleep. He worked a lot and you need to let him rest,” you explain patiently, even though you know it’s pointless, because you can’t negotiate with the twins as well as Jiyong can.
“But he promised he’d play with us first thing this morning, and it’s already morning,” Kion protests a little too loudly, forcing you to press your index finger to his lips so you don’t wake Jiyong.
“He’ll play with you as soon as he rests. I’m sure he will.”
“Maybe he’s already awake... Can we check, please?” Kian asks, and you know that if you don’t let them, they’ll spend the whole day standing by the bedroom door, because they’re both incredibly persistent and patient, which is yet another trait they inherited from Jiyong.
“Fine, but we’ll only peek in, and if he’s sleeping, we’ll let him sleep,” you agree after a moment and slowly open the bedroom door, which swings open with a soft creak. Kian and Kion immediately step over the threshold. The bedroom is drowned in dim light and pleasantly warm. Only Jiyong’s head is sticking out from under the blanket, and at first glance, it really does look like he’s asleep.
You glance back and forth between Jiyong and the twins, already deciding to end this little performance and let Jiyong sleep, when Jiyong suddenly speaks in his hoarse, sleepy voice.
“I can hear you…”
“Appa!” the twins shout almost in unison and throw themselves onto the bed toward Jiyong like an avalanche. With mild concern for Jiyong’s health, you watch the bed dip under the twins’ attack while Jiyong, still half asleep, tries to protect his stomach and head from these relentless little warriors.
“Oh God...” Jiyong groans when Kion accidentally tumbles into his arms in an unguarded moment. “You’re my happiness, aren’t you?” he mutters once he manages to calm the twins down and pull them into his arms, tucking one on each side. It’s not as easy as it used to be. The twins are growing like weeds, and they’re going to start school soon. “I hope you didn’t give eomma any trouble while I was gone. You know what you both promised me, right?” Jiyong says, giving both of them a meaningful look with one eyebrow raised.
“We didn’t! We were good!” Kian says seriously, adding a firm nod to give his words proper weight.
“Well, I’ll have to ask eomma about that…” Jiyong says with a smile, finally moving his sleepy gaze to you where you’re still standing in the doorway.
The sight of those three in the messy sheets is the most perfect thing life could’ve ever given you. Jiyong was gone for a long time because of his tour, and now you finally have all three of them home. All of them with you again. This is the home you’ll always want to come back to, no matter where in the world you are.
Jiyong is the most amazing dad you could’ve ever imagined for the twins. Despite everything you went through from the beginning of your pregnancy, all the questions you asked yourselves and all the questions you were afraid to ask out loud, Jiyong is the most loving father in the world. You want to lock this image in your mind forever…
“…right, eomma?”
You blink a few times before your thoughts return to the bedroom again. “Of course,” you answer, even though you didn’t actually hear what Kion asked you. “I’m going to make something good for breakfast,” you add before stepping away from the bedroom doorway to give the three of them some space.
The twins may not have shown it very often, but they really did miss Jiyong, because you were always very careful and watched their wild games with fear in your chest, especially when the living room turned into an unconquerable fortress and more than once a pillow landed on your head when you came in to tell them dinner was ready. These crazy things were simply something only Jiyong could pull off. He could always entertain the twins in the most creative ways whenever he was home.
You don’t overthink breakfast too much and make scrambled eggs with toast, cutting up some vegetables to go with it. You smile when you hear soft, bare footsteps on the floor behind you.
“Good morning again, beautiful,” he says against your ear, and right after that, Jiyong’s arms wrap around your waist. He presses a gentle kiss to your ear and rests his chin on your shoulder.
“Good morning,” you answer quietly with a laugh, still focusing on cutting the vegetables.
“I’m so glad I’m back with you all again... with you,” Jiyong murmurs tiredly but contentedly as he brushes his temple against your cheek, then buries his face in your neck and exhales in relief.
“We’re really glad you’re home with us again too,” you say, picking up a piece of chopped bell pepper and holding it to Jiyong’s mouth. “Open,” you say, and Jiyong laughs as he eats the piece of pepper you’re offering him. Before you return to cutting, you press a kiss to his cheek. Jiyong’s hands begin to gently stroke your sides, slowly pushing your T-shirt up.
“Ji, come on, the boys could come in any second,” you mumble, but you put the knife down and turn to face him. You run the fingers of both hands through his messy hair and watch him for a moment.
“Come here,” he says with a conspiratorial smile, already pulling you by the hand toward the bathroom, where he safely locks the door behind you.
“What are you doing, Jiyong?” you roll your eyes, but you can’t hold back a laugh.
“Shhh,” Jiyong says, placing his index finger against your lips before replacing it with his lips. “I need at least a moment of privacy without two curious pairs of eyes…” he mutters as his lips touch your neck, and you close your eyes in pleasure, letting out a soft sigh. His hands glide gently over your lower back beneath the fabric of your T-shirt, dangerously close to the waistband of your sweatpants.
“Jiyong…” you breathe into his ear, running your fingers through his hair. “We shouldn't be doing this right now, because—”
“Appa! Are you eating candy in there?” one of the twins calls from right outside the door, while you both hear the other twin running toward the bathroom too.
“No, Kian, we’re not eating any candy in here,” Jiyong says calmly while resting his forehead against your shoulder and laughing softly. “Although, actually…” Jiyong mutters quietly enough for only you to hear as his hands slide down to your backside and squeeze firmly. You can’t help laughing under your breath either, and you gently stroke Jiyong’s hair.
“Looks like your plan didn’t work... maybe next time,” you wink at Jiyong as you finally unlock the bathroom door, and the twins burst in after you, looking for any candy wrappers, but finding nothing...
Jiyong sits down on the edge of the bathtub, and the last thing you see before leaving the bathroom and going back to the kitchen is him shaking his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries not to laugh.
You return to cutting the vegetables, and Jiyong starts setting plates on the table once all three of them follow you back into the kitchen after a while. Jiyong is wearing a clean shirt, but his hair is sticking out in every direction after the twins’ attack, which makes you guess some kind of secret battle happened in the bathroom while they were washing their hands and brushing their teeth.
You watch them from the kitchen counter as they all sit down at the table, and Jiyong begins preparing their plates with absolute, natural ease. He used to be so afraid that he wouldn’t know how to raise sons. He was afraid of expectations and the pressure of society. And now? Now he’s the gentlest and most amazing dad. He’s a safe haven for the twins, a place where they can cry without shame, laugh, goof around and be themselves. All those fears really were unfounded. Jiyong doesn’t shape the boys into any mold or into society’s expectations. He simply gives them space to grow.
“Alright, boys,” Jiyong says once he finishes his last bite of toast and claps his hands. “I promised you I had something for you. Ready?”
The twins bounce excitedly in their chairs as Jiyong walks into the hallway and pulls a large bag with four boxes from the closet. Each box holds one pair of completely clean, snow-white canvas sneakers, and from the bottom of the closet, he pulls out two large boxes full of colorful fabric markers, different patches, shoelaces, sequins and all kinds of other things.
Jiyong lifts one sneaker into the air. “These sneakers are still boring, so how about we each make our own?” he says with a smile, looking at you, and you immediately shake your head.
“No, no, no,” you say, shaking your head as you lift your hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m nowhere near as artistic as the three of you, so I’ll just supervise and then clean up the mess you leave behind.”
“Eomma, you have to paint with us!” the twins plead in unison, furrowing their brows in protest because you’re trying to ruin appa’s genius plan. Jiyong gives the boys a conspiratorial smile and walks over to you to place your sneakers into your hands. “You can’t just leave your sneakers plain white…” he whispers, winking at you. He ignores your next protests and already starts leading you by the hand into the middle of the living room, where only a moment ago he spread a large plastic tarp directly over the carpet.
He leads you between the twins, and you sit down cross-legged, staring at the white sneakers resting in your lap. In the end, you can’t hold back a laugh, shake your head and give up your protests. You all sit on the floor in a circle, with markers in the middle, and a pleasant, focused silence settles over the living room, broken only by the scratching of marker tips against the fabric of the sneakers.
You watch Jiyong as his artistic soul comes alive, and with absolute precision and ease, he draws his signature daisy with one missing petal on the side of his sneaker, then adds abstract strokes of yellow and green.
For a moment, you doubt your own abilities, but when you see all three of them drawing with such focus and excitement, completely lost in their imagination, you reach for a deep purple, blue and yellow marker and start drawing. Under your hands, a deep, imaginary universe full of tiny silver stars begins to appear, and later you add a few colorful imaginary planets that come to mind. Jiyong keeps watching you the whole time with a warm look in his eyes, while the boys excitedly comment on each other’s creations.
At one point, Kian’s hand slips and he draws a thick black zigzag line across the side of the shoe, cutting through the car he was trying to paint. Kian freezes, his forehead creasing, and tears begin to fill his eyes. “I ruined it…” he says sadly, placing the marker back into the box between you, deciding he doesn’t want to paint anymore.
Jiyong immediately reaches out to him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he says, taking the shoe into his hand and holding it out so Kian can see it too. “See? That line looks like lightning. What if we turn the car into a super-fast lightning car?”
After a moment, a smile appears on Kian’s face again. He wipes the tear running down his cheek with his sleeve and reaches into the box for a yellow marker so he can transform the black line into lightning.
“See?” Jiyong nods approvingly. “Always remember that every mistake can be the beginning of a new idea. And that’s true for everything you’ll ever do in life,” Jiyong says, and you just can’t help but be amazed by how naturally he’s able to pass on these deep thoughts, with such effortless ease…
***
The day slips by far too quickly. Your sneakers dry out on the terrace, so in the evening you’re finally able to try them on, and the twins run around the whole penthouse in them, screaming with excitement. A deep darkness starts settling outside the windows, and the true peace of home fills your apartment.
The boys are already in their pajamas, and after the long day, you finally make your way into the bedroom and collapse onto the bed. You curl up under the blanket and leave only the bedside lamp on. You listen to the muffled sounds coming from the children’s room next door. As usual, the boys managed to convince Jiyong to tell them a bedtime story, and he agreed without protest.
You lie there, staring at the ceiling, smiling at the thought of what Jiyong’s incredible imagination has created for them tonight. Jiyong doesn’t read books to the boys because the boys want their dad’s imagination. You know you could never come up with stories like his because you don’t have that wild, colorful imagination he carries inside him.
Right now, he’s probably sitting between their beds, spinning a story in his head full of magical animals or giant robots flying between the stars. He’s definitely found a way to weave in the sky, constellations, or mythical dragons, the kind of things the boys love listening to so much. Jiyong’s bedtime stories simply have no limits and no rules. They’re like his music, unpredictable, fascinating and full of details. Through the wall, you can hear the boys excitedly adding their own ideas, calling things out, and Jiyong is patiently weaving every single one of them into the story. It’s their shared ritual, their little world that only the three of them have access to.
After a while, the noise fades and absolute silence takes its place. The bedroom door opens quietly and Jiyong steps inside. He lets out a relaxed breath, strips down to his boxers, and climbs under the blanket beside you. You thought that after a long tour and a whole day spent with the twins, he’d fall asleep from exhaustion right away, but instead, Jiyong is filled with a strange kind of energy from finally being home.
He immediately curls up against you, wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He buries his face in your neck and breathes in your scent deeply, and you feel his lips brush against your skin in a quiet but incredibly warm kiss.
“I missed you. For weeks, all I kept waiting for was the moment I could hide beside you like this.”
“I missed you too, Ji,” you whisper, pressing yourself even closer to him. With one hand, you start gently stroking his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, the beat you missed through so many nights when you had to fall asleep alone. Jiyong places his palm on your back and starts rubbing your back in slow circles. After a moment, he pulls back slightly so he can look at you.
“Do you know what I was thinking about today, when we were all sitting in the living room?” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with his fingers.
“What were you thinking?”
“About how scared I was back then… When we first found out they were boys, I felt completely lost. I couldn’t imagine raising sons at all. I had so many of my own hang-ups, so many fears about what this world would expect from them and from us. And now? Now I can’t imagine a single second of my life without them and without you…”
You smile, tilt your head back and kiss his neck. “I know... I know how much you were fighting with yourself back then…”
“I was crazy,” he mutters, kissing you on the lips. “They’re so incredibly pure, and there’s so much joy inside them… I think they teach me far more about life than I teach them.”
“You’re everything to them… You’re exactly the dad they need.”
Jiyong lets out a quiet, content breath, pulls you close again, and this time you rest your head on his chest and place your hand on his stomach. Jiyong keeps one hand behind his head while the other strokes your hair.
“Today, you painted the most beautiful universe with planets on those sneakers… I was thinking while I watched you, and my whole universe is in this bed and in the room next door. I have absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted, and I don’t have to search for anything anymore…” he murmurs just before his hand slowly stops stroking your hair, as he drifts off to sleep, and maybe in his dreams, he’s replaying the whole day that reminded him he’s the happiest man in the universe…
No pressure tags: @chocomintlatey @jiyongsbaby88 @mochimeowlovecottoncandy @aemrsy @headsinthecloudforever @gdsabbii @jiyongieahx @strawinyourdrink @lolzworld + and anyone who wants to join 💚
Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x Reader | Yunho x Reader (toxic relationship)
Content Warning: toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, honeymoon phase, implied/referenced physical abuse (bruises), trauma responses, panic response, unhealthy attachment, guilt, secrecy, loneliness, heavy emotional themes
Word Count: 2,669
[Masterlist: Top of the World]
Friday becomes one of the most wonderful evenings you’ve experienced since coming to Seoul. That evening, while you’re brushing your hair in front of the mirror, Yunho comes up behind you, wraps his arms around you, and presses a gentle kiss into your hair.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers as he watches your reflection in the mirror and brushes his chin against your temple. He’s wearing his favorite shirt, the one you bought him for last Christmas, and he smells like the cologne you love on him the most.
Dinner over wine at the new restaurant on the corner is excellent, and Yunho behaves like the biggest gentleman in the world. The restaurant is submerged in dim light, the laughter of other guests, and quiet music that completes the perfect illusion of absolute idyll. Yunho refills your wine, listens to you with interest, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like everything is all right again.
When he squeezes your hand across the table and strokes the back of it with his thumb, your heart starts beating as hard as it did when he kissed you for the first time. Attentive and loving Yunho, who would bring you the moon if you asked him to.
Even though the restaurant is only a short walk from your apartment, just at the end of the street, it takes you longer than usual to get home, despite the cold November night air biting at your cheeks. You laugh at the smallest things until he stops you in the middle of the sidewalk, pulls you into a tight embrace, and kisses you so lovingly that your knees almost give out. You feel like the center of his universe, and that sweet intoxication doesn’t end even once you’re home. You make love with a tenderness and passion that has been missing between you for far too long, hidden beneath the blanket from the whole world.
You can’t fall asleep later, even as Yunho breathes peacefully beside you and presses himself close to your body. That familiar paralyzing fear and worry starts to stir inside you again. Creeping worries, something like the quiet shadow of your anxiety. How long will this last? the intrusive voice in your head whispers. You realize you’ve been on guard the entire evening, controlling every movement, every word you said passing through a split-second inner censorship. You know how fragile the truce between you and Yunho is, and how easily this kind of idyll can disappear with one single mistake from you, because everything is always your fault. Sometimes you really must exhaust him with your mood swings, your forgetfulness, and your inability to do anything right…
ෆෆෆ
It’s Saturday evening when you arrive at Refuge to take over from Seoho. Outside, it’s a typical late November evening. All of Seoul is basically completely wrapped in cold, damp fog, and the chilly rain keeps turning into heavy snowflakes that immediately melt on the dirty asphalt and form gray slush. This gloomy time also carries the weight of the approaching Christmas season, which always stresses you out, and you’ve never been able to get through it calmly. It also means spending more time at home with Yunho, and that sometimes feels like walking through a minefield…
The café is absolutely quiet today, because most people would rather go out to clubs on a Saturday night than sit in a café. Leaning against the counter, you rest your head in your palm and watch as it really starts snowing outside, the first snow of the year falling onto the wet ground and forming a thin dusting on the sidewalk.
The soft beep of your phone lying next to you on the counter cuts through the grave-like silence and pulls you from your thoughts.
Y: You forgot your umbrella at home again, my clumsy girl… The weather’s supposed to be even worse in the morning. I’ll come pick you up. I love you. Y.
You stare at those words and catch yourself smiling like a schoolgirl in love. Before you manage to reply, the soft, familiar jingle of the bell above the door sounds, and into Refuge walks… Jiyong. You straighten up almost like a soldier, and for a moment you honestly think you might be hallucinating from exhaustion.
“Hi,” he says calmly as he walks over to the counter, takes off his mask, and runs his fingers through his hair after freeing it from beneath his hood.
“H-hi,” you mumble, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Did you mess up your backup again, or did you come hide from the insane weather outside?”
“Today it’s because of the weather. And also because of this,” he replies, placing a plastic bag on the counter. “I wanted to thank you. That guy, your coworker…”
“Seoho,” you quickly add when you see he can’t remember his name.
“Yeah, Seoho… I stopped by here Friday night and thought you’d be here, but he was here instead. So, for a small bribe in the form of an autograph for his sister, he told me when you’d be working again,” Jiyong says, then pauses for a moment and leans his elbows on the counter. “He also told me your name. So… Y/N, right?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if making sure he remembers the name Seoho gave him correctly and isn’t pronouncing it wrong.
Your face turns a little red, and you lightly bite your lip, because you never in your life imagined you’d hear your name coming from Jiyong’s mouth. “Yes, exactly, I’m Y/N. I’m sorry, I only just realized I never even introduced myself to you. I’m sorry, that was really rude.”
“No, it’s fine. We were both having a seriously bad day, so there just wasn’t time for formalities,” Jiyong smiles and taps the plastic bag he brought. “Seoho also ratted you out and told me you like wearing oversized clothes, so I brought you one oversized hoodie from the merch. Take it as a thank-you for providing me with refuge, and also as an apology if I was kind of grumpy. I really was having a bad day, and that coffee, cake, and your refuge honestly helped me.”
You peek into the bag that Jiyong slides closer to you across the counter. “I can’t take this,” you object, shaking your head.
“You can,” he says before you can argue any further. “But on one condition... You make coffee for both of us now and give me refuge here again. I saw you have Goguma latte on the board as a winter special. I feel like half of Seoul is drinking it right now, so I think it’ll be better than plain americano.”
For a moment, you look back and forth between Jiyong and the bag lying between you before you hesitantly nod. “Okay… Go sit down for now and I’ll make them,” you smile and point toward the spot where you sat together the other night. The ease with which he talks to you relaxes you completely and warms you from the inside. On top of that, Yunho’s message is still lingering in front of your eyes, and everything simply feels absolutely wonderful.
Jiyong nods in agreement and heads over to the table. You turn around to start preparing the lattes. You work without thinking, because making coffee is practically part of your everyday life. When you carry two glasses of Goguma latte over to the table, your hands tremble slightly and your fingers slip awkwardly over the smooth surface of the tray, making it tilt a little in your hands. The thick, sweet liquid splashes over the rim of one of the glasses and spills across the tray. Several hot drops land directly on Jiyong’s sneakers… And in that exact moment, your bubble of perfect happiness bursts.
“Oh my god, I… I’m so, so sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so unbelievably useless, I’m really sorry… I’ll wipe it off right away!” Your voice breaks in an instant from a cheerful tone into a panicked, frightened whisper. You quickly put the tray down on the table, and without thinking, you pull up your sleeves and take paper tissues from the pocket of your apron. You drop to your knees and start frantically wiping the hot drops from Jiyong’s shoes in an attempt to minimize whatever damage the latte might have done to his sneakers. You don’t even realize how fast you’re breathing, as if you’re running out of oxygen, and you feel tears beginning to sting your eyes.
Jiyong looks at you in alarm, because he clearly realizes your reaction to spilled coffee is disproportionate. “Calm down, Y/N. These old sneakers have been through worse things, and it’s just coffee… Come on, stop,” he says, already sounding a little nervous as you keep scrubbing his sneaker. He gently catches one of your wrists, and you instinctively go rigid before lifting your eyes to him. Jiyong looks down at you for a second before his gaze drops to the place where he’s holding your wrist. Under the bright café lights, it’s clear that only a little way from where his fingers are wrapped around you, bruises are slowly fading, bruises you thought had already disappeared long ago. They are fading, but their shape is still visible…
Jiyong frowns slightly, his forehead creasing. “Did you hit yourself on something?” he asks in a calm voice. At his words, you freeze again for a second. You lower your gaze to your wrist and gently slip out of his hold. You were convinced those bruises had already faded completely. Quickly, you stand up and pull the sleeves of your turtleneck down over your forearms.
“Yeah, I’m terribly clumsy. I keep bumping into things. My boyfriend and I were moving a wardrobe at home, and this is how it turned out. I really am sorry about your shoes,” you mumble, trying to change the subject and calm your wildly pounding heart.
Jiyong smiles widely after your words. “I completely understand. I’m always breaking things on stage or dropping stuff. We both need to be more careful… And sit down already, or our lattes really will get cold,” he says, taking his glass from the tray and nodding toward the chair across from him.
Your body is still a little stiff, constantly expecting some kind of sudden reaction, but you sit down and pull your own glass of latte toward you, wrapping your icy fingers around it.
“So… what does a megastar like you actually do at the end of November?” you ask after a while, when the silence starts feeling too long and you’re afraid Jiyong might bring up the bruise on your wrist again.
Jiyong slowly leans back in his chair, mirroring your movements as he wraps both hands around his cup and takes a sip of his latte. “Trying to survive,” he smiles faintly. “Everyone goes crazy toward the end of the year. Everyone wants plans for next year, everyone’s scheduling meetings… Sometimes I feel like the closer December gets, the faster the world spins. I’d like to have at least one normal end of the year…”
You nod. “I miss normal things too… normal for me, I mean. I’m sitting here at night at work, it’s started snowing outside, and I miss those ordinary, normal things I had back home. Here in Seoul, snow just melts dirty on the asphalt, and somehow it feels even more foreign than usual…”
“Winter in Seoul can be unpleasant,” Jiyong agrees and looks through the large window at the falling flakes. It really is snowing now, real snow that doesn’t melt the moment it touches the dirty asphalt. “But you know that here in Korea, we have cheotnun, the first snow of the year. It has a special meaning here. They say that if you experience cheotnun with someone, your love will last forever. Or at least the secret wish you make in that moment will come true.”
At the word love, Yunho’s message flashes in front of your eyes again… I’ll come pick you up. I love you... For a moment, you feel a warm, loving feeling. “I don’t believe in things like that,” you lie quietly and take another sip from your glass.
“I don’t really believe in it either, but cheotnun just has this kind of magic for Koreans. It’s nice to believe in it for a few minutes, especially when the weather outside is this miserable.”
The conversation keeps flowing. You talk even after you move behind the counter again to make lemonade for both of you, and Jiyong tells you about how some of his lyrics come to him at the least convenient times. Some of his stories make you genuinely laugh from the heart. You share small fragments of your very different lives, and yet, in that moment, somehow, you feel equal. Even though your worlds have basically nothing in common, you feel like you understand each other and talk so easily, as if you’ve known each other for years.
Around 6:00 AM, Jiyong stands up and glances toward the counter, where the bag with the hoodie he brought you is still sitting. “Seriously, take it. I’ll be mad if you don’t wear it,” he says with a slight smile as he puts on his jacket. “I have to go before people start coming in again.”
“Of course,” you nod and stand up too so you can take the tray with the empty glasses away.
“Y/N,” Jiyong says when you’re already behind the counter, and he walks over to you. “You know… apart from my signature, I don’t really have anything left to offer your coworker so he’ll tell me when you’re working again… Will you send me your schedule?” he adds calmly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jacket.
Your heart skips a beat, and your knees almost give out at the ease with which Jiyong talks to you. The warm feeling that he feels safe and comfortable with you, just like you do with him, sends a wave of happiness through you.
“Okay,” you smile as you take out your phone and save his number, so you can immediately send him a photo of your work schedule until the end of the year.
“Thanks. I’ll come again. Take care of yourself, Y/N,” he says, smiling at you as he gets ready to leave Refuge.
“You too, Jiyong…” you say as the bell above the door jingles and Jiyong leaves the café.
At exactly 8:00 AM, when your shift ends, you put on your jacket and, just to be safe, hide Jiyong’s hoodie in your backpack under your things. When you step out in front of the café, Yunho’s car is already parked by the edge of the sidewalk with its hazard lights on. Yunho is sitting behind the wheel, waiting until you get in.
“Hi, my clumsy girl,” he smiles at you and pulls you toward him to press a long, warm kiss to your lips.
“Hi. Thank you so much. I’m glad you came to pick me up,” you return his smile, then lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes, because you’re pleasantly tired and the only thing you’re looking forward to is the warmth of your bed.
At home, you use a brief moment alone in the bedroom to pull Jiyong’s hoodie from your backpack and hide it beneath a huge pile of old sweaters in your closet. Your treasure will be safe here…
You change into your pajamas and fall into bed. You turn onto your side and watch Yunho as he walks into the bedroom with a smile. You fall asleep almost instantly, even before Yunho manages to wish you sweet dreams and tell you he’ll be in the living room until you get some rest, and even before you register the notification that lights up your phone from a newly saved number…
Iced Americano is bitter at first and cold enough to wake you up, simple enough to become a habit, and somehow exactly what you need when everything feels too far from home. It’s late-night walks, quiet laughter, fingers hidden inside the pocket of his hoodie, and a first love that tastes a little sharper when goodbye gets too close...
A/N: Bar Menu isn’t a series in the traditional sense. Each drink is its own moment, its own mood. You don’t have to read them all, just the ones that find you 🖤
Pairing: Seunghyun (T.O.P) x Reader
Word Count: 3,052 | oneshot
Pick up another drink HERE.
You’ve only been in Seoul for your study stay for two weeks, and you’ve already managed to embarrass yourself so many times that you’re honestly grateful no one here really knows you. At least you’ll be going back home for the holidays. You’ve always had a talent for attracting awkward situations, and your current stay in Korea is living proof. Take right now, for example… After two weeks, convenience store food has become an unbearable, monotonous routine, so you decided to finally eat at an actual restaurant. That turned out to be a huge mistake…
Thankfully, the Korean BBQ restaurant is almost empty when the staff brings an unbelievably large amount of meat to your table on a rolling cart, turns on the grill, and calmly walks away. You sit there with your hands in your lap, regretting the fact that you didn’t just stick to your usual convenience store sandwich.
You turn your head toward the table next to you, where a low, amused laugh comes from. Three guys around your age are sitting there, clearly having the time of their lives watching you and the mountain of meat in front of you. If they weren’t here, you’d probably get up and run, but that doesn’t seem like a very dignified strategy.
“You must be really hungry,” a voice behind you says in broken English. You turn around and see a boy heading toward those little mockers at the next table. Before he reaches them, he stops by yours, as if he wants to make you feel even more self-conscious than you already do.
“I am really hungry,” you mumble, trying to ease the weight of your shame and defend yourself with at least some dignity. It has the opposite effect, though, because an even louder burst of laughter comes from the next table.
“I thought so, because otherwise you definitely wouldn’t have ordered a portion for four,” the boy remarks, standing beside you with his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his loose jeans. You desperately lift your eyes to him, and only now do you realize how handsome he is. Unlike his friends, he isn’t laughing. He’s looking at you with almost no trace of emotion, and somehow that’s even worse than if he openly mocked you.
“Oh my god…” you whine desperately, hiding your burning face in your hands because it’s the only thing you’re capable of right now. Embarrassing yourself in front of a gorgeous guy is just another thing to cross off your bucket list in Korea. After only two weeks here, you have to admit you’re checking things off at an alarming speed.
“Relax, we got this,” the boy says, clicking his tongue as he looks over at his friends. “Hey! What are you waiting for? Get your asses over to this table.”
That’s pretty much what your first meeting with Jiyong, Daesung, Youngbae, and… Seunghyun looks like. These four quickly become the anchor you look forward to every single day, and you practically run to them the moment your classes end. The boys are trainees, and their grueling daily schedule filled with constant practice seems completely unreal to you. Still, they almost always manage to carve out at least a tiny window of time to spend with you. You’re unbelievably grateful for that, because they’re the only friends you’ve managed to make in Korea, and thanks to them, you don’t feel quite so lonely here. Each of them is completely different, which suits you perfectly. And Seunghyun? To him, you’ll forever be “the girl who was really hungry,” and he loves teasing you about it far too much…
Today, however, your “bucket list” doesn’t contain any embarrassing or funny stories. It only holds the heavy, gray blanket of homesickness that falls over you the moment you wake up. The first few weeks have flown by, the initial excitement of being in a new country has faded, and reality hits you with full force. You miss your mom, your dad, your friends... Most of all, you miss speaking a language you don’t have to think about, a language where you don’t have to carefully translate the meaning of every single word before opening your mouth.
That’s exactly why you’re now standing in the middle of a busy Seoul street, clutching a postcard with a photo of Namsan Tower in your hand. The postcard has such kitschy, loud colors that it almost makes you physically sick, but you’re sure your parents will like it. In order to send it, however, you first have to find a post office. According to your online map, you should be standing right in front of one, but instead, you’re staring desperately into the window of an electronics store. You turn the map in every possible direction, and you feel like you’re about to burst into tears.
“Are you hungry again and looking for a restaurant?” Seunghyun’s deep, velvet voice sounds behind you. He’s wearing a huge black hoodie, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his loose jeans.
Your heart jumps, but a lump immediately settles in your throat. “No,” you breathe, and because of the tears gathering in your eyes, your voice sounds weaker than you want it to. “I’m looking for a post office…. But this stupid map claims the post office sells televisions.”
Seunghyun smiles faintly, looks at your phone screen, and then shifts his gaze to your face. His dark eyes study you with that typical unreadable expression of his, but when he notices the glassiness in your eyes, concern flickers through them.
“The branch that used to be here is closed. The next one is a few blocks away,” he says calmly and nudges your shoulder lightly. “Come on, I’ll walk you there.”
You walk side by side through busy Seoul, and you can barely keep up with his long strides. When, after ten minutes, you finally step into a small, hidden post office branch, panic immediately takes hold of you. An older woman with a strict expression is sitting behind the counter. The moment you try to hand her the kitschy postcard, she launches into rapid, irritated-sounding Korean. You don’t understand a single word she says, and she frowns at you tiredly, tapping her fingers against the desk. In that moment, the last tiny bit of courage drains out of you. You feel like you’re going to cry right there under the weight of all that homesickness.
Before you can stammer out a single word, Seunghyun takes a step in front of you and completely shields you from the unfriendly clerk with his broad shoulders. He speaks to her in a calm, deep voice. You just watch his sharp profile in fascination. Under the influence of his calmness, the woman immediately softens, nods, and takes the postcard. Seunghyun pulls a few coins from his pocket to pay for the stamp.
“No, I’ll pay for it!” you blurt out, fumbling through your wallet in confusion.
“It’s already done, let’s go,” he mutters, gently catching your elbow and leading you back outside into the fresh air. Sometimes his calmness, almost coldness, honestly scares you a little, especially when you’re alone with him.
When you step back onto the street, you let out a tired breath. “Thank you so much. You saved me. Will I see you tomorrow after your training?”
But Seunghyun doesn’t move and he doesn’t react to your words at all. He just shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his loose jeans and looks down at you. “I’m free now, and you obviously miss home and need cheering up, don’t you, Big Hunger?”
He doesn’t wait for your protest. He turns around and jerks his head for you to follow him. He leads you to the small, neon-lit window of a hidden café. “Two iced Americanos,” he orders in his deep voice, and a moment later, he presses an icy plastic cup into your hands. You look at the dark liquid with ice cubes, then back at him.
“Iced Americano,” he explains seriously, even though you haven’t asked a single question. “It’s the Korean cure for every problem you’ll ever have in this country. Drink.”
You take a sip of the bitter, icy drink, and the cold rushes through your whole body, as if it’s pulling you out of that gray lethargy. You look at him and give him your first genuine smile of the entire day. “It’s terribly bitter, but it helps.”
In that moment, Seunghyun smiles faintly for the first time. It’s only the smallest movement of his lips, but his eyes warm in a way that makes your chest feel strangely full. “Told you. I don’t want you crying here. Then you’d get even hungrier, and I’d have to drag you to BBQ again.”
***
From that night on, everything changes. Wandering through nighttime streets becomes your ritual. SeungHyun takes you into the hidden corners of Samcheong-dong, where traditional houses stand next to modern galleries.
“Where are we even going?” you ask one evening when he leads you into an alley so narrow that you have to walk close beside each other. “I feel like people don’t even live here.”
“They do,” Seunghyun mutters, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “But they’re asleep. Seoul is prettiest here. No noise, just old rooftops and the sky.”
“It’s magical here,” you admit quietly, and he only hums in quiet satisfaction.
You discover that beneath that mask of a tough, silent boy, he hides an incredible sense of humor. He doesn’t laugh as loudly as Jiyong, but whenever you say something funny, he buries his face in his hood and his shoulders shake with deep, muffled laughter.
One evening, you buy small cups of watermelon ice cream and sit down on a bench in a quiet park not far from the YG Entertainment building. Seunghyun starts helping you with Korean, which you’re required to take at university. He patiently goes through your notebooks with you, teaches you the correct pronunciation, and corrects your grammar mistakes.
“Try reading this,” he says, pointing his long finger at one line. You take a breath and, with maximum concentration, manage to get the sentence out. SeungHyun stares at you for a moment with an absolutely stone-cold face.
“Was it that bad?” you ask miserably.
“Yeah, I can’t understand you at all…but we’ll practice,” he says with complete calm, though his eyes sparkle wildly with amusement.
“That’s not fair! All your vowels sound the same!” you grumble, offendedly stabbing your spoon into your ice cream.
“Not like that,” he corrects you quietly. He places his large, warm palm over yours to stop you from eating. Your heart starts pounding wildly. Seunghyun doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he slowly turns your palm upward, studies your fingers for a moment, and then firmly laces his fingers with yours. He looks deep into your eyes.
“You have to open your mouth more when you say it. I’ll show you again.”
From that night on, you no longer walk together any other way than hand in hand. Every time, he hides your joined hands inside the huge, warm pocket of his hoodie.
One afternoon, he even takes you straight to the training center. You sit on the floor in the corner of the mirrored practice room, holding your iced Americano in both hands, watching the boys train, or rather, mostly watching Seunghyun...
The room smells faintly of sweat, floor cleaner, and the coffee you brought with you. The music is loud enough to vibrate in your ribs, and every sharp step of their sneakers against the floor echoes off the mirrored walls. You try to look casual, like being in this room is completely normal and not something you’ll probably remember for the rest of your life, but your eyes keep finding him in the reflection…
The boys are practicing a new choreography, and Seunghyun, who sometimes looks during training as if the whole concept of dancing personally offends him, is suddenly trying suspiciously hard. Every movement is done at one hundred percent. He keeps the rhythm, doesn’t deliberately mess up the choreography, and even when Jiyong calls for them to start again from the top, Seunghyun only exhales through his nose and takes his place without complaining. You press your lips together to hide your smile behind the rim of your plastic cup.
Of course, Jiyong notices, Jiyong always notices.
When the music cuts off, the boys collapse tiredly onto the floor. Youngbae falls onto his back and covers his face with his arm, Daesung sits down with a dramatic groan, and Jiyong braces his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Then he looks at Seunghyun first, then at you sitting in the corner, and then back at Youngbae with a grin slowly spreading across his face.
“Do you see this?” Jiyong stage-whispers loudly enough for the entire room to hear. “Our fan should sit here every time, otherwise we’ll never turn him into a dancer.”
Daesung immediately starts choking on his laughter, bending forward and pressing a hand over his mouth. Youngbae lifts his head from the floor and looks at Seunghyun with fake seriousness. “No, he’s right. This is the cleanest run you’ve done all week.”
“Maybe all month,” Daesung adds, still laughing.
Seunghyun gives them such a murderous look that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing out loud. His ears, however, betray him almost immediately, turning slightly red under the dark strands of his hair.
“I was dancing normally,” he mutters.
“No, you were showing off,” Jiyong says instantly, pointing at him. “There’s a difference.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were,” Youngbae agrees, sitting up now, far too pleased with himself.
Daesung looks between you and Seunghyun, his eyes shining with mischief. “Y/N, please come again tomorrow. For the sake of the group.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Seunghyun says.
“I’m not saying anything,” you answer, still smiling.
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m drinking my coffee….”
“You’re smiling into your coffee...”
Jiyong makes a delighted noise somewhere behind him, and Daesung nearly falls over again. Seunghyun ignores them all, walks over to where you’re sitting, and crouches down in front of you. He reaches for your iced Americano without asking, takes one sip through the straw, makes a face at the watered-down bitterness, and hands it back to you.
“You’re distracting,” he mutters so quietly that only you can hear him.
Your fingers tighten around the cup. “Is that a bad thing?”
For a moment, he only looks at you. His dark eyes are still unreadable, but something warm hides beneath the surface.
“No,” he says at last. “Just annoying…” And somehow, from him, it sounds almost like a confession.
***
Your first kiss happens a few days later. He’s walking you back to your dorms, and you hide from a sudden spring rain beneath a small awning in a dark, tucked-away alley. You’re standing with your back to him when he gently takes your shoulders and turns you around to face him.
“You’ll get soaked,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to your lips.
“I don’t mind,” you breathe, unable to catch your breath. “I like rain.”
“I don’t,” he murmurs in his deep voice and takes that final step toward you, until your chests are almost touching. “But right now, I don’t mind it.” He gently pulls you closer by your waist and supports your jaw with his other hand. He’s so unbelievably close. Both of you are shy, tense in the silence and the falling drops around you. When his soft lips finally touch yours, the world around you stops. The kiss is gentle, but beneath that cool surface of the iced coffee you drank a while ago, it’s unbelievably warm.
After that night, it’s as if a dam breaks, and there’s no way back. During every meeting after that, in every free second, in every shadow of nighttime Seoul, you search for each other’s lips. The kisses are no longer just shy. They become urgent, long, and deep. Your goodbyes in front of your dorm stretch into dozens of minutes. Seunghyun presses you against the wall, gently runs his fingers through your hair, strokes your back, and every time he pulls away for even a second, one quiet half-breathed sigh from you is enough to make him kiss you again, as if he never wants to let you go.
“I already miss you, even though you’re standing right in front of me,” he whispers into your ear one evening while holding you tightly and hiding you from the wind inside his huge hoodie.
“I’m right here,” you smile and pressing yourself closer to him.
“That’s not enough,” he murmurs. “I never thought some girl would make me run away from training early.” These quiet, honest confessions rarely fall from him, but that only makes them carry even more weight, and you’re well aware of that.
Mid-June arrives with merciless speed, and with it comes your inevitable flight home for the holidays. You spend your last evening on your bench in the park, holding cups of iced Americano that taste a little more bitter than usual this time. For the last time, you wander through those alleys where every corner reminds you of some moment you shared.
“I’ll write to you every day,” Seunghyun says in his deep, firm voice, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as he holds it tightly inside his pocket. “Even if I’m about to collapse from training.”
You look at him, tears shining in your eyes, the same tears you’ve been fighting back the whole time. “And after the holidays? When you debut in August? You’ll be famous, Seunghyun and I’m scared I’ll come back and everything will be different….”
He doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he presses his index finger to your lips, forcing you to stop talking, and then he kisses you long and sweetly. That kiss carries a promise that doesn’t need words. When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes for a long moment.
“We’ll stay in touch, Big Hunger,” he whispers against your lips. “And after the holidays, I’ll be waiting for you here. I swear…”
haii anett♡´･ᴗ･`♡ Hruu? Hope ur doing well<33 Sorry if the answer is obvious 😭, but for the 'coming soon' list, are the fics lined in order of when they're coming out? Or is the order random? Again sorry if it's obvious my mind is laggy
Hi, hun, I’m feeling better already, thank you 💚 You don’t have anything to apologize for, it’s a completely valid question! The fics aren’t listed in the order they’ll be posted, the order is random. Once I make a banner for one of my wip fics, I add that banner to the post, but it doesn’t affect the order in which I’ll finish or post the fic.
Hi, I’m feeling better already, but I probably won’t manage to post anything today. I’d really like to have the next part of Top of the World ready for Wednesday and the next part of Protected by a Gentle Monster for next Sunday. I’ve been focusing more on oneshots lately, so maybe I’ll post one earlier than Friday 💚
i know ur requests are paused rn, but maybe could you write something based on jiyong’s song bonamana??
i love reading ur stories! and you never disappoint!!! hope you have fun writing! thank youuu xxx
Hi, my dear! Thank you so much for your sweet words, they genuinely mean a lot to me, and thank you for your request too! I hope you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚
About story: Your return to Seoul was supposed to be professional, controlled, and completely detached from the past. But one exclusive assignment brings you face to face with Jiyong again,the man you spent three years trying to forget. What starts as a private tour of his new trainee facility quickly turns into a dangerous reunion behind the closed doors of a mirrored practice room, while your husband waits just a few hallways away…
Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x Reader
Word Count: 4,527 | Oneshot
Content Note: Exes to lovers, infidelity/adultery, unresolved feelings, guilt, jealousy, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, semi-public sex, mirror sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, praise/degradation elements, manipulation, toxic attraction, open ending
The return to Seoul was basically your own free choice. It was a kind of promotion, a chance to lead your own team at the magazine, and you told yourself it had nothing to do with the fact that you spent three years running away from something that exhausted you beyond belief. Sometimes memories simply rise to the surface, usually at the least appropriate moments, like when you’re having dinner with your husband… or when you’re having sex with him. In those moments, Jiyong’s mouth sometimes comes back to you, his hands, the way he looked at you as if he could see straight into the deepest, most hidden parts of your soul…
After breaking up with Jiyong, you returned to Europe, found a job as the editor-in-chief of a magazine, met a great man, got married… everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, and all of it helped you forget Jiyong… and then your boss gave you a very specific assignment:
“Kwon Jiyong is revolutionizing the K-pop training system. You have exclusive access to the grand opening. Bring me something juicy, the way only you can!”
In that moment, you almost turned the offer down, already searching your mind for a suitable excuse as to why you, of all people, weren’t the right person for this story. You didn’t want to return to Seoul. You didn’t want to stand there, surrounded by fellow journalists who had no idea that you were the one who used to let the star of tonight’s event fuck you in bathrooms and any other place where you could have been caught at any moment.
But saying no would mean admitting that you were still afraid of how you and your body would react when you saw Jiyong again, admitting that he still affected you in some way… and your pride would never allow that.
The facilities really are impressive, you can’t deny Jiyong that. He clearly drew from his own experience and from everything he lacked most as a trainee. The practice rooms are high-end, the dormitory for the trainees doesn’t look like a prison, and the trainees have access to nutritionists, psychological help and support, simply everything that the old, outdated, slightly too harsh and rigid system was missing. He covered everything he didn’t have as a teenager, when he slept four hours a day and starved himself to meet almost impossible standards.
You noticed him the moment you stepped inside, and you didn’t even need to see him. Your body had always registered his presence before your eyes did. He’s talking to a group of his colleagues, and he still looks just as perfect and confident as ever.
“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”
Your husband’s voice beside you pulls you out of that trance, out of the embarrassing staring at Jiyong, and drags you back to reality. He’s a photographer, which is actually how the two of you met, because you started working together. You agreed to marry him far too quickly for your taste, because you wanted to fill the emptiness that remained inside you after breaking up with Jiyong.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, taking a glass of champagne from him. “I’m just thinking about the article,” you add and take a sip, because you realize how dry your throat has become.
“Kwon Jiyong really is a genius,” your husband says. He sees you watching Jiyong, but he doesn’t take it as something threatening, because Jiyong is the star of tonight’s event and all the attention in the room is directed at him… after all, your husband doesn’t know that you used to date Jiyong, or that it was the most intense relationship you’ve ever experienced in your life. “He’s so good at identifying flaws and gaps, drawing from his own experience and still turning it into excellent promo… He can turn everything upside down.”
Turn everything upside down… how fitting for Jiyong.
“I saw my former colleague from Tokyo. Do you mind if I go over to him for a moment? I’ll be right back,” he says and kisses your hair.
“Sure, of course,” you smile back at him and feel a heavy sense of guilt, because right now you’re only capable of thinking about Jiyong. Nervously, you move to the corner of the room, and the hands holding your notes with questions for the official press conference tremble slightly.
“I was wondering whether you’d show up, Y/N,” a very familiar voice sounds behind you, running from your ears all the way down to the tips of your toes.
“I think you approved the list of journalists, so you knew very well I’d be here,” you answer calmly as you turn to face Jiyong. He’s closer than you expected and even more beautiful than you remember.
“I approved the list of magazines. Your name was just a bonus… though your last name has changed,” he says in an calm voice, and his gaze drifts to your wedding ring.
“I have questions,” you say, unconsciously hiding the hand with your wedding ring behind your back, as if that could change the fact that you’re married.
“I bet you do,” Jiyong smirks smugly.
“Professional questions… for my article,” you add, trying to let him know he’s not as amazing as he thinks he is, even though you know he is…
“Ah, right…” Jiyong nods, the smirk never leaving his lips. He vaguely gestures toward the crowd of journalists near the stage. “You can wait for the official press conference and tour like everyone else. It starts in half an hour.”
“It’s hard to get something original when thirty other journalists and reporters keep asking the same questions over and over… I don’t like these group events,” you say simply.
“Do you want something exclusive, then? Private access?”
The tone Jiyong uses when he says the word private, and the way he raises one eyebrow in amusement with that spark in his eyes—the one that was always there and clearly still is—almost make your knees buckle, but you try not to show it.
“I mainly want to understand your vision, Jiyong. The old system was brutal, we both know that… So what makes this any different? Why is it worth talking about, apart from the fact that it’ll give you more excellent promo?”
“You want to know what makes it different?”
“Yes, that’s my job,” you answer and roll your eyes, because this conversation is making you more and more nervous, and you don’t know how else to release the tension from your body except through exaggerated gestures and expressions.
“Then come with me,” he takes a step back and nods his head for you to follow. “The practice rooms… that’s where it all begins, because that’s where trainees spend most of their time. I designed them from scratch. The floors, the mirrors, the sound…” He pauses for a moment. “It’ll probably be better if you see it instead of listening to me talk about it in abstract terms.”
You know for certain that you should say a clear no right now and wait for the group tour that starts in less than half an hour, before the press conference. Somewhere in the room, your husband is probably looking for you to bring you another glass of champagne, and here you are, actually considering letting yourself fall into the trap again.
You blink several times as all you see now is Jiyong’s back as he walks away, and in that moment, your feet move of their own accord, blindly following him.
Fuck
You follow Jiyong through the building, past groups of guests and staff, past doors marked Staff Only that open with a key card. With every step, the noise fades, replaced only by the hum of the air-conditioning and the too-loud thumping of your heart.
You stumble slightly behind Jiyong, trying to match your steps and pace to his.
“How long have you been back in Seoul? A week?” he asks without turning around.
“Two weeks, actually,” you say, finally speeding up enough to walk beside him.
“Two weeks and you didn’t even call…” he says with mock reproach, throwing you a glance.
“Why would I call you?”
“I don’t know…” he shrugs vaguely. “Maybe just to reminisce about the good old days.”
“Old days? Maybe… Good? That’s debatable…”
“Ow, you’re still just as cruel,” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as he finally stops at the end of the hallway with a card in his hand and turns to face you. The lighting at this end of the corridor is dimmer and colder. The LED lights throw sharp shadows across his face.
The card beeps against the reader and the door opens. This practice room still smells brand new, and it’s larger than you expected. The floor is made of light wood, polished to a mirror-like shine that almost blinds you when Jiyong turns on the large ceiling lights. Three of the four walls are covered in mirrors from floor to ceiling, and the fourth wall is entirely made of glass, overlooking Seoul, providing plenty of daylight during the day.
The mirrors fascinate you because they’re everywhere. Everywhere you look, you see yourself… fragmented, reflected from every angle and… you see Jiyong too, standing just behind you, watching your expression through the mirror.
“This is the main room,” he says close behind you before stepping in front of you. His voice echoes lightly through the empty space. “Top-tier sound system, AC, sprung floors, because we don’t want our trainees destroying their joints after their first six months of training…but the most important thing is the mirrors… I’d say they’re the alpha and omega.”
“Mirrors are standard in practice rooms.”
“Good observation,” he says, moving closer to one of the mirrored walls. “But these are still a little different… Come here.” He gestures for you to come closer, and you reluctantly step nearer to him, nearer to the mirrors. “Here, they’ll learn to see themselves clearly… No one expects them to be perfect or flawless, but they need to understand that they have to work with their bodies, not fight against them.”
“Impressive,” you say quietly and uncertainly, when you catch Jiyong’s reflection still standing behind you.
“Did you expect anything else from me?” he asks, and you feel his warm breath against your ear as he looks at you through the mirror without blinking.
“I expected something less thought-out,” you say, not taking your eyes off his reflection.
“You’re still so bratty and—”
“That’s what you always liked about me,” you cut him off sharply.
Jiyong laughs, shakes his head, and lowers his eyes for a moment and breaking your eye contact. “I liked a lot of things about you,” he says, and you watch as his right hand moves from your wrist, along your forearm, until it slips beneath your sleeve and rests on your shoulder. You feel yourself shiver under the touch. “Your attitude, your anger, the way you loved starting fights just so you’d have something to win…”
“What are you doing, Jiyong?” you breathe out, turning your head toward him. You can feel your breathing and your pulse speeding up dangerously.
“I’m just showing you my new concept… but you look a little nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” you mutter, swallowing as your cheeks burn.
You’ve fallen into his trap again…
“Really? Then why is your breathing faster? Why are your hands shaking?”
“My hands aren’t shaking.”
“No? Then look…”
Jiyong places his hands on your hips and makes you step closer to the mirrored wall, forcing you to look at your own reflection again. You see your flushed face, your tense jaw, your slightly trembling hands, and you feel his body pressed against your back.
“Do you think about me even when you’re with your husband?” he asks quietly. “Because I think about you all the time. I keep waiting for a door to open and for you to be standing there…”
“I don’t think about you,” you mutter, unable to look away from Jiyong’s eyes in the mirror.
“Liar,” he says with a smirk.
In the reflection, you watch him lower his head and press his warm lips to your neck.
“You’re already wet, aren’t you? I can tell. I always could. You always start squirming like this…” he adds, then drags his tongue over the pulse point in your neck, forcing a sharp breath out of you.
That’s when you start to realize there’s no getting out of this trap anymore.
You don’t have enough strength to respond to his words. All you can do is watch your reflection, your flushed cheeks, your slightly parted lips, and Jiyong kissing your neck with his hands on your hips.
“You always reacted so sensitive to every touch of mine,” he whispers. “So quickly... You were so easy to read once I learned how to recognize it…”
“I’ve changed.”
“Really?” You feel him smile against your neck as one of his hands moves from your hip to your thigh, lifting the fabric of your dress and pushing it higher little by little. “Do you want me to stop?”
You don’t answer, and Jiyong takes your silence as permission to continue. He pushes your dress higher, and when his fingers find the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, only a short distance from your pussy, you can’t stop yourself. You gasp sharply, tilt your head back, and rest it against Jiyong’s shoulder.
“I remember you on your knees with your mascara smudged… I remember the way you moaned please, as if it was the only word you knew…” he whispers, turning his head toward you while yours is still tipped back against his shoulder.
His fingers finally touch the thin, soaked fabric of your panties, and he exhales in satisfaction before kissing your ear. “Three years… three years, and you’re still dripping for me…” he mutters as his fingers push the fabric of your panties aside and begin circling your clit with practiced precision.
“Ji…” you whisper, almost breathless, before turning toward Jiyong and kissing him hard.
You bite his lower lip, and Jiyong moans into your mouth. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve heard in the last three years. His hands are everywhere… on your hips, your ass, your thighs… He pulls you against him with such hunger that you know this was his plan from the beginning, maybe from the moment you walked into this damn building.
You kiss him with the same force he kisses you, digging your fingers into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. It isn’t gentle, because nothing between you has ever really been gentle. It’s raw instead, hungry, almost violent in the way it consumes you both.
Jiyong pushes you backward until you’re standing in the corner where two mirrored walls meet, and you gasp when he presses your back against the cold surface of the mirror.
“Do you still like fucking in semi-public places?” you breathe out as his lips find your neck again and his teeth graze your oversensitive skin. “Is your penthouse with its big luxury bed still not enough for you?”
“My bed was good enough when you were in it,” he growls against your neck, his hands gripping your thigh and hip so tightly that you tilt your head back again, giving his greedy lips, tongue, and teeth easier access. “But I also remember that you were the one who couldn’t wait and threw herself at me backstage at MAMA and—”
“You started that,” you moan, sliding your fingers into his hair because you need to touch him, need to pull him as close as possible.
“And you finished it… Three times, if I remember correctly,” he mutters before dropping to his knees.
The movement is so quick that you barely have time to react. He lifts your dress, and his fingers hook into the edges of your panties without hesitation, pulling them down your thighs. You step out of them without protest and kick them aside.
“God…” you breathe out when his hot tongue drags over your folds for the first time.
You sway slightly, trying to steady yourself with one hand against the smooth mirror while your other hand slips back into Jiyong’s hair. His tongue keeps moving over you, and every now and then, almost carelessly, the tip of it flicks over your clit. He eats you with such precision and confidence because he knows exactly what you need, exactly what you like, and he’s only deciding how quickly he’s going to give it all to you.
“Look at yourself,” he mutters, his voice vibrating against your clit. “I said look,” he growls, lifting his gaze to you, and with the last of your strength, you open your eyes and turn your head.
In the reflection of the mirrored wall beside you, you see your flushed face, your parted lips, your fingers buried deep in Jiyong’s hair, and Jiyong on his knees with his head between your thighs, his hands gripping your ass firmly to keep you exactly where he wants you.
“Just like that,” he says, pulling away only enough to look at your reflection in the mirror.
Your eyes fall to his glossy mouth in the reflection, to the hair you’ve ruined with your fingers, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning. He looks so perfect, so painfully perfect that you don’t even notice your wedding ring glinting on your finger in the mirror…
“Jiyong, I…”
You don’t get to finish, because you moan again when his mouth closes around your sensitive clit and sucks. Your hips jerk against his face on their own, trying to meet him. Jiyong doesn’t resist. Quite the opposite. He lets you grind against his tongue and mouth as if you’re using him for your own pleasure.
“You taste so fucking good, exactly how I remember,” he growls as he pushes two fingers into you without warning, and your knees almost give out. “Does your husband make you feel this good too? Does he know what your pussy needs? What you need?”
“No,” you answer almost immediately, pushing your hips toward his fingers as they hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.
“Mmm,” he hums against your clit while he keeps fucking you with his fingers, because your answer gives him exactly the satisfaction he needed to hear.
His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers work with deliberate intensity, making you see stars. You tighten your grip in his hair, so hard that he growls in satisfaction, and the pressure of his mouth grows stronger, his tongue moving faster against your clit.
“God…” you moan louder, your thighs starting to tremble uncontrollably along with the rest of your body. “Don’t stop, I’m so close…”
Jiyong doesn’t stop until a powerful wave of orgasm tears through you, and if he weren’t holding you, you would probably collapse straight onto the polished floor. You gasp for breath. You can’t think. You can only feel, only hear how loudly you’re moaning his name under the weight of the aftershocks while your fingers tighten in his hair and he slows the movement of his mouth and tongue, guiding you through every last shudder.
After a moment, Jiyong finally stands without letting go of you, still holding you firmly so you don’t lose your balance. He’s breathing heavily, and your gaze drops to the strained fabric of his pants, to the obvious bulge there, and another wave of arousal rolls through you before the first one has even fully faded.
You look at him. He is disheveled and rock-hard enough that it must hurt.
“Do I deserve you?” he asks breathlessly, but he doesn’t wait for your answer before kissing you again. You taste yourself on his tongue. His palms grip your hips again as he pulls you closer, then turns you around so you’re facing the mirrors you’ve almost forgotten about.
“Keep your hands here,” he says, placing your palms against the cold surface of one of the mirrors, and all you can do is nod because your breathing still won’t let you speak.
You hear him unbuckling his belt and watch him in the reflection as he does it. His flushed cheeks, clenched jaw, focused expression, his desire… he looks more perfect than ever.
“Look at yourself,” he mutters when his trousers are pushed down somewhere around his knees and he’s rubbing his rock-hard cock against your ass. “You’re so beautiful, so desperate just like me…you need my cock inside you so badly…” He pumps himself a few times, then drags the tip against your still-wet folds. “Do you want me? Do you want my cock in your pussy as much as I do?”
You can’t form words. All you can do is wait impatiently for the moment he finally pushes into you and fills you.
“I don’t hear anything… Where are your manners?” he mutters, still circling the tip of his cock around your entrance while his lips latch onto your neck again.
“Jiyong, please…” you moan, lifting one hand to slide it into his hair without taking your eyes off the reflection in the mirror.
Jiyong thrusts into you in one hard motion, forcing you to cry out louder, and your pussy clenches around his cock immediately as it tries to adjust to his size. The cold mirror chills your palm, but the heat of Jiyong’s body burns against you almost unbearably.
“Look at us,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making your muscles clench around him again. “We belong together… and your husband has no idea what I’m doing to you in here…”
You try to dig your nails into the mirror in front of you with every one of Jiyong’s thrusts, watching his reflection with helpless fascination. His intense gaze, his eyes full of desire and complete loss of control. Jiyong holds your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he starts thrusting harder, mercilessly, picking up his pace. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for everything he’s missed over the past three years, just as much as you are.
“Does he make you feel like this? Do you think about me when he touches you?” he breathes hoarsely, slowing for a moment only to thrust deeper into you. “Answer me,” he demands when you don’t reply.
He grabs your chin and forces you to turn your head back toward him. Your eyes meet his, that dark, focused, burning gaze that has always made your knees weak. Before you can say anything, he kisses you. Your lips part under the pressure of his mouth, and the kiss is hungry, desperate, full of all the passion neither of you has managed to release properly in the last three years.
As he kisses you, his free hand slides from your hip back between your thighs, and you start trembling uncontrollably again. You tilt your head back and look into the mirror, now fogged slightly from your hot breaths.
“You’re so beautiful when you can’t control yourself, when you get this wet for me, Y/N…only for me,” he whispers, looking at your reflection so he can meet your eyes. “You were never his, Y/N… You’re only mine… all of you, aren’t you?”
“Yes… God, yes,” you admit helplessly, pushing your hips toward his fingers as they tease your clit again and pace you toward another orgasm.
His fingers move faster, matching his harder, deeper thrusts, and your pussy begins to tighten around his cock again. Your whole body tenses, and you choke on your own moans. Jiyong pounds into your trembling body, enjoying every reaction he pulls out of you until you clench around him violently, and after a few final thrusts, he comes inside you with a low, guttural growl.
For a while, the two of you only breathe. Your head rests against his shoulder, and Jiyong’s face is buried in your neck. You don’t know how long the moment lasts before he reaches into his pocket, pulls out some tissues, and cleans both of you up. When you pull your dress back down over your hips and try to fix yourself, you remember your husband, and guilt hits you all at once. Just a few meters away, he’s waiting for you. Maybe checking his watch nervously, completely unaware of what you’ve just done.
You check yourself in the mirror, fixing your appearance, when Jiyong catches your wrist and studies your wedding ring. “Your husband doesn’t have very good taste, I’d say…” he mutters. “I would have chosen better… and my penthouse is still empty. I’ll give you anything. You just have to give us one more chance...”
You pull your hand out of his grip and suddenly don’t know what to say.
“It wouldn’t work, Jiyong. We’ve tried too many times,” you say, but the certainty is missing from your voice. Your head is still lowered when you reach for your handbag, which has been lying on the floor until now, and pull out your business card. The address of your new Seoul office is printed on it.
“This is my address. I’ll send you the draft of the article, and if there’s anything you don’t like or anything you want changed, you can find me here,” you say, knowing exactly how obvious your wish is. The wish that this won’t be the last time you see each other…
Jiyong takes your business card, and his lips curl into a satisfied smile. To him, it’s an invitation to the next round of this dangerous game.
You can’t bear that smug look on his face any longer, so you turn away and leave through the door with bated breath, walking quickly. You make your way back through the corridors toward the main hall until the noise of the guests reaches you again.
Your husband is already waiting for you by the small bar and looking around impatiently with two glasses of champagne in his hands.
“Where were you, sweetheart? I was starting to worry you’d miss the start of the press conference…” he says with concern.
“Sorry,” you smile and take one of the glasses from his hand. “I had to disappear for a moment, but I got some great material for the article.”
Your husband smiles brightly and wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m so proud of you. This is such a great start for your journalism career here in Seoul…”
A really great start…
You glance over your shoulder into the crowd. On the other side of the room stands Jiyong. He’s leaning casually against the wall, getting ready for the start of the official press conference. For a moment, his eyes find yours. He watches your husband hold you around the waist, the same place his own hands had touched only minutes ago… and in his hand, he calmly turns over the business card you gave him just a little while ago.
You know you’ve just signed another contract with the devil. And you know you’ve never really cured yourself of this addiction called Jiyong…
Pairing: Dragon (Jiyong) x Reader
Content Warning: crime themes, debt violence, mentions of physical assault and injuries, threats of harm, implied danger, anxiety/panic, emotional distress, protective but morally grey behavior, brief sexual tension/intimacy
Word Count: 2,995
A/N: Slowly but surely, we’re getting closer to the actual end of this series, which honestly makes me really sad... This part is shorter and more explanatory than packed with major events, but I still consider it important for the story, especially because of Dragon’s thoughts. We’ll take a look at Dragon’s past, which explains his current behavior, in the next part 🖤
[Masterlis: Protected by a Gentle Monster]
🎧 [Spotify link] 🎧
2nd person POV [Y/N]
The warmth of the morning sun isn’t as soothing after the night storm as you would’ve imagined. It slips into the bedroom through the gaps between the carelessly drawn curtains in long, pale, almost grey stripes. You wake up slowly, with a heavy weight pressing against your chest. The storm that shook the whole house during the night is long gone now, and nothing is left of it but silence and the damp, cold air brushing over the exposed parts of your body.
You pull the blanket closer to your neck and turn your head toward the window, immediately understanding why it’s so cold in the room. The massive window facing the sea is slightly open, just enough for the cold air to slip into the bedroom. Along with that chill, the rhythmic, heavy crash of waves against the cliffs below reaches your ears.
Jiyong must’ve been awake after you fell asleep. From those few nights in his Seoul penthouse, when you heard his quiet footsteps from his bedroom or his muffled voice in the middle of the night, or when you ran into him in the living room after going to get a drink and found him standing by the window, staring at the night view of Seoul, you’ve figured out that he probably suffers from some form of insomnia.
You’re sure he watched you when you finally gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep pressed against his side. Maybe he watched you in the dark, alone with his thoughts, and sometime around the moment the storm ended, he got up and opened the window to air out the heavy air left behind by the storm. And not only by the storm…
You turn your head toward him and find him lying on his side, only a few inches away from you, his face turned toward yours. His eyes are open, dark and deep, fixed on you with such intensity that for a moment, you have to hold your breath. In that muted morning light, his face looks sharper than it did during the night.
As soon as your mind begins to wake up and register reality, you remember the words he said before you fell asleep. Those words come back now with chilling clarity…
I will protect you, because between the two of us, I’m not the one in danger, Y/N…
Those words cut into your mind like sharp shards, forcing the harsh reality upon you. You try to find some other meaning hidden behind what he said, but the truth is far too clear for any doubts. You’re in danger… A million questions race through your mind, burning on your tongue, yet the dread of the answers paralyzes you.
“Jiyong,” you breathe, your voice hoarse and heavy with sleep. “What happened before we left for this place? I’m guessing it’s… it’s connected to what you told me yesterday…”
Jiyong doesn’t answer right away. He reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing lightly against your collarbone. You pull one hand out from under the blanket and place it over his, threading your fingers through his. Jiyong takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
[flashback]
A black car arrives with its headlights dimmed at an abandoned construction site in Mapo-gu. The rain, which only moments ago was drumming against the hood and windshield with such intensity that the wipers could barely keep up, suddenly stops. Jiyong turns off the engine and carefully scans the unevenly scattered blocks of heavy concrete until he spots a trembling figure beside one of them, sitting in the mud with his knees pulled to his chest.
Jiyong gets out of the car and walks straight toward the figure with his usual calm, steady pace. Even so, his fingers in black leather gloves are gripping his car keys harder than they should, his knuckles turning pale beneath the leather. Every step over the wet gravel echoes far too loudly in the grave-like silence.
He kneels down on one knee directly beside the curled-up figure. Siwoo looks awful. His jacket is almost torn apart and soaked through with rain and mud. The entire right side of his face is swollen and mottled with every shade of bruising. A thin stream of blood trickles from the corner of his split lip, drying quickly in the chill air.
Jiyong reaches out and carefully, but firmly, takes Siwoo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his head to study every detail of his injuries with a clenched jaw.
“Who did this to you?” Jiyong asks after a moment, without letting go of Siwoo’s chin. At first, his voice seems completely emotionless. Only his pupils narrow slightly as he realizes just how terrible Siwoo is going to look over the next few days.
Siwoo sucks in a painful breath through his teeth when he feels the firm pressure of Jiyong’s hand against his bruised jaw. He tries to pull away from the touch, but he doesn’t have the strength. “Jackal’s men…” he hisses, inhaling unevenly. “They caught me when I was leaving the bar. They probably know I go there…”
Jiyong finally lets go of his chin and shakes his head. “Of course they know. You told me your only debt was the one you owed me… Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to get mixed up with Jackal.”
“I… I had to,” Siwoo says after a short moment of silence. Pure, unfiltered fear shines in his eyes. “I borrowed the money several months ago, and I didn’t know who he was… I thought I’d pay it back, even with those insane interest rates, but… things went sideways.”
Jiyong shakes his head in disbelief and lets out a low, humorless laugh. “You just love courting disaster, don’t you? Playing with your own life… I don’t know why you even called me,” Jiyong says as he stands up from the muddy ground and turns to leave, but Siwoo’s hand grabs his forearm tightly.
“He told me that if I don’t make a payment by the end of the week, he'll take my sister instead… Jackal knows I have a sister,” Siwoo whispers desperately.
Jiyong freezes for a moment before turning back to him. Siwoo looks up at him with sheer terror in his eyes. “I fucked everything up, I know, I’m the worst person in the world, but she has nothing to do with this! Do something… anything! Kill me if you want, but she’s innocent, no one can hurt her! She—”
After a moment, Jiyong crouches down beside Siwoo again and places a hand on his shoulder, grounding him through another wave of hysterical sobbing. “Stop!” he interrupts. “Stop and listen carefully. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Right now, you’re going to disappear from Seoul and head south. Find some run-down motel and don’t leave it until I contact you, understand? I need to buy some time…” Jiyong mutters the last part more to himself than to Siwoo.
Siwoo wipes his bloodied face with his sleeve, his breathing calming slightly under Jiyong’s touch. “But what about Y/N? He’ll definitely find her and—”
“He won’t,” Jiyong cuts him off immediately, with icy certainty in his voice, even though it trembles slightly. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t find her.”
“How?”
“That’s not your concern. Your concern right now is to leave, hide, and give me some time… Now get up. Move,” Jiyong grabs Siwoo under the arm and pulls him to his feet. “I’ll take you somewhere you can get yourself cleaned up a little, and then you’ll leave immediately,” he says, leading him toward the car and the passenger door.
[end of flashback]
When Jiyong tells you everything, you feel as though the ground has opened beneath you and swallowed you whole. Your entire body goes rigid. Your brother… your only family, that naive boy you’ve taken care of, was lying somewhere in the mud, beaten and paralyzed with fear. You can’t even fathom how terribly he must be suffering. And Jackal? Who is that slimy predator Jiyong bowed to more deeply than to anyone else at that party? The man who called you “Dragon’s toy” and gave Dragon an offer he refused? Did Jackal know that the Fox at the party was you? That you’re Siwoo’s sister?
Now everything makes sense, even though you’re still missing some pieces of the puzzle. You understand why Jiyong destroyed your phone, why you left right after he returned from meeting your brother, why you’re here… His house in Busan no longer just feels like a hideout. It truly is one. A refuge meant to keep you safe. Logically, you realize that running away from the forty-second floor of a penthouse would be far harder than from this house in Busan…
With that realization, tears flood your eyes, stinging with a physical ache. The first desperate sob escapes your throat, filled with complete despair and fear for your brother, for yourself… for Jiyong. You immediately hide your face in your palms, as if to shut out the harsh reality. Your whole body shakes uncontrollably beneath the wave of anxiety crashing over you.
“Siwoo…” you whisper shakily, burying your face in your hands. Never in your life have you felt fear like this. You choke on your sobs, gasping for air as the sheer desperation of it all suffocates you.
“Stop,” Jiyong says, pulling you against his chest into a firm embrace. “Stop. Crying won’t help anyone or anything… Your brother is smart. He’s hidden well, and I have enough time to figure out what to do next,” he adds, running his hands over your bare back.
“But—”
“No buts,” he cuts you off immediately, cupping your face in his palms to force you to look at him. “Nothing will happen to anyone… I swear,” he says calmly, even though neither his voice nor his eyes hold the usual certainty you used to see in them before leaving Seoul.
You can’t fully describe all the emotions crashing through you right now, each one blurring into the next. You’ve never feared for your life the way you do now. This threat is real, because you know someone like Jackal truly exists, and because you believe Jiyong—in your situation, you have nothing else left.
Jiyong’s palms still hold your face firmly as he tries to keep eye contact, something that calms and terrifies you at the same time. You place your hands on his forearms and lean in to kiss him. You don’t know why you’re doing it, but you feel an urgent need for his touch, because you need to find something safe, something familiar, something that can ground you and reassure you that everything will be okay.
Jiyong doesn’t hesitate for a second, kissing you back. The kiss is chaotic. There’s no elegance in it, only your desperation and the need to release the tension suffocating you from the inside. Hot tears run down your cheeks, and you can taste their salt on your lips. After a while, you find yourself beneath Jiyong, his strong hands gripping your hips, never breaking the kiss. You moan into his mouth when his right hand moves between your thighs, sliding into your damp warmth.
The silence, broken only by your quickened breaths and occasional moans, is suddenly shattered by the ringing of the phone. Jiyong pulls away just enough to look at the screen on his nightstand, then immediately moves off you and reaches for it.
“I hear you, Junho,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed with his back to you. At that name, a chill runs down your spine. You’ve only heard him say that name once, and from his conversation with Viper, it was clear Junho wasn’t someone you’d ever want to meet. You try to catch any fragment of the conversation, but Jiyong lowers his voice so much that you can’t hear a thing.
“I understand. We’ll meet. I can get there in about two hours,” Jiyong says before ending the call. You watch his tense shoulders, and the silence between you suddenly feels heavier than ever.
“Jiyong—” you try carefully, but he interrupts you as he stands up and walks to the wardrobe for his clothes.
“I’ll make breakfast, and then I have to leave,” he says simply. Before leaving the bedroom, he turns back to you. “ Come downstairs and eat. You haven’t eaten anything since we left.”
You are left sitting naked on the bed, watching his retreating figure disappear through the door.
3rd person POV
Jiyong stands in the kitchen, where the scent of fresh coffee drifts through the air. It should feel soothing, but the atmosphere in the room is suffocating and heavy instead. Dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, he stands by the large window with a mug in his hand, gazing out at the sea breaking against the rocks. The water is almost as restless as he is…
An impossible battle rages inside his head, worse than the storm during the night, worse than any nightmare he’s ever had, and all the fears he’s ever faced in his life. Never before has he wanted so badly to leave his current world behind and live a normal life. Here, in this house on the cliff, that wish seems so easily within reach at first glance. All he would have to do is lock the gate, throw away the phones, forget the debts he’s been trying to collect, forget the money, forget Jackal, and simply stay here with Y/N. Watch the sea every morning in a shared embrace, smell Y/N’s scent in the sheets every time he wakes up and falls asleep, listen to Y/N’s calm breathing, Y/N’s laughter…
But Jiyong is too intelligent to believe in fairy tales. He knows very well that the way he’s falling in love with Y/N is starting to weaken him in a fatal way. That love is making him vulnerable, turning him into the kind of man who lowers his guard at night and reveals more about himself than he should, and that is an unforgivable mistake. Because of Y/N, he’s also realized that he’s more readable to those around him than he should ever allow himself to be, because Y/N has uncovered his feelings of loneliness perfectly, even though he’s never admitted them out loud before.
His vigilance, and the fact that he knows Jackal so well, are now the only things allowing him to protect Y/N and keep her safe from that dangerous predator. If he makes even one mistake, if he loses focus for a single second just because of how badly he wants to be with her, it could mean he’ll never see Y/N again. The thought of her falling into Jackal’s hands turns Jiyong into a frightened animal backed into a corner. He can’t make a mistake. Not a single one. He has to put his mask and ruthlessness back on, even at the cost of Y/N hating him. He has to build an invisible wall and hope that one day, she will understand the reasons behind his actions and find it in her heart to forgive him.
2nd person POV [Y/N]
You take a shower, put on loose shorts and a T-shirt, and go downstairs. When you step into the bright room, your eyes immediately land on the counter of the kitchen island, where still-hot waffles are waiting on a plate, with a steaming mug of coffee beside them. You move closer, only now realizing how hungry you are. Jiyong finally turns away from the window and watches you over the rim of his mug. Only then do you notice a small, black flash drive lying beside the plate. Jiyong notices your gaze, walks closer, and taps the plastic drive with his index finger.
“I had to destroy your phone. I think you understand why by now,” he says, then falls silent for a moment. “But before that, I backed up all of its contents. All your contacts, messages, photos… all your memories. I don’t want to be the one who steals your past away...“
You stare at the small piece of plastic, and the words catch in your throat as tears burn in your eyes again. In the middle of all that insane rush last night, when hours and maybe even minutes mattered, Jiyong thought about not hurting you more than necessary. He saved the fragments of the life you left inside your phone.
You want to say something, thank him, or maybe cross the distance between you and throw yourself into his arms. You take a step closer. He looks down at you, his expression turning as hard and unreadable as it did on the first evening when he appeared at your brother’s door.
“I can see right through you, Y/N. I know exactly what you’re thinking and what you want to ask me, but… there’s no space for that right now. I have to leave. You don’t have to be afraid here. It’s safer here than anywhere else,” he says calmly, his gaze moving over your face. You want so badly to believe him, but you’re truly scared, and you don’t want to stay in this house alone…
“When will you be back?” you ask in a strained voice. Jiyong watches you for a moment longer before lowering his head and slowly kissing your forehead.
“Soon, I promise,” he says. Then he lets go of you, takes his car keys, and walks down the hallway toward the front door. You hear the click of the lock, the sharp beep of the house alarm making your insides clench, and a few seconds later, the muffled growl of the engine. From the window, you watch Jiyong’s car disappear behind the heavy gate of this Busan fortress.
You’re left completely alone in that enormous house. Just you, Chairman Meow, and the silence that’s beginning to thicken dangerously…
Hi Anet, just checking in. I hope life’s been treating you gently lately 🤍 - XOXO
Well, how do I even put it... The things making my life complicated right now are basically “small things,” but when too many small things pile up, it starts feeling worse than it actually is. So it’s not great, but it’s not a tragedy either, I guess that’s how I’d put it...
Anyway, thank you so much for checking in, hun. I hope you’re doing as well as possible, and I’m sending you lots of love! 💚🩷
your coming soon post is gone!! it’s still there on your pinned post but the link isn’t working 😔
Thank you for letting me know! 💚 I accidentally set the post to private while editing it, so the mistake was definitely mine… Tumblr didn’t even have to sabotage me this time, I did it myself...
It should be fixed now. Is it working for you? 🫶
And if I mess something up again, please splash me with water and let me know again...
Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x Reader | Yunho x Reader (toxic relationship)
Content Warning: toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, implied/referenced physical abuse, bruises, trauma responses, unhealthy attachment, guilt, loneliness, heavy emotional themes
Word Count: 3,609
A/N: Berry (@cchapssaltteok), thank you so much for sending me this request, and I’m sorry it took me so long to finally start working on it. It’s a heavier story, so I wanted to give it the right time, space and attention. I’ll try to post the next parts regularly, and I really hope you’ll like this first part 🖤
[Masterlist: Top of the World]
The bruise on your wrist is slowly starting to fade, but under the bright bathroom light, you can see its yellowish shade and the edges standing out against your skin far too clearly. Just a few days ago, it was dark purple. Now it’s more yellow than anything else, and in a few more days, there won’t be a single trace left on your wrist to prove a mark was ever there. Only you’ll know forever that it existed…
You rinse your face with cold water and pull your hair into a messy bun because a Wednesday night shift at a café definitely doesn’t require a presentable look. You tug the sleeves of your turtleneck down enough to cover the bruise on your wrist and check your reflection in the mirror one last time. There have been better days…
You leave the bathroom shortly after 7:00 PM and head into the bedroom to grab your jacket. Yunho is lying on the bed, watching some documentary on Netflix. Well, he’s not really watching it because he’s scrolling on his phone, and the documentary is mostly playing just so the bedroom won't be completely silent.
“Where are you going?” he asks without lifting his head from his phone. His voice has that cold, tired tone that instantly makes your stomach tighten slightly.
“To work. I have to leave soon, so I’ll see you in the morning,” you answer quietly as you pull your leather jacket from the closet and put it on.
Yunho finally puts his phone aside and fixes his gaze on you. “You have another night shift? Sometimes I feel like you’d rather be at work than with me. You don’t pay any attention to me at all, and then you act surprised when I sometimes lose it. Who’s supposed to put up with this all the time? I come home exhausted from work, I look forward to seeing you, and you immediately run away…”
His words hit you, even though he isn’t shouting. A spiral of guilt instantly starts spinning in your head. You think of your work schedule and how, lately, you’ve really been taking extra shifts for your coworkers voluntarily. Suddenly, it occurs to you that maybe he’s right. Maybe the fault really is yours. Maybe you really don’t give him enough attention, and then he’s simply justified in feeling lonely. You’re the one who pushes him into those reactions…
“I’m sorry,” you whisper apologetically, stepping closer to the bed. “I… I just wanted to help out at work when someone needed a shift covered. I have Friday off, remember?”
Yunho’s expression softens instantly. The coldness vanishes from his eyes so fast it makes your head spin. “You have Friday off? We could go out for dinner. They opened that new restaurant on the corner. Come look,” he says, reaching his hand out for you to sit beside him on the bed. You check the time on your phone and sit down next to him, since you still have a few minutes before you need to leave.
He shows you a video of the restaurant that opened a week ago, and you have to admit their promo is flawless.
“Yeah, that sounds really nice, I’m looking forward to it,” you reply with a smile before Yunho pulls you close and kisses the top of your head.
“I’m looking forward to it too, we haven’t been out in a while,” he murmurs into your hair, then leans down to kiss you. In essence, Yunho is the perfect boyfriend. He has always cared for you, including you in his plans (both short-term and long-term) which is actually the reason you are here right now. Yunho got a very good job offer here in Seoul and wanted you to move here with him. You had been dating for a long time, so moving in together made sense. You just didn’t expect it to be here, so far from home, and so far from all your loved ones and friends… But what wouldn’t a person do for someone they love, right?
“I have to go…” you say, returning his kiss before getting off the bed to leave for work. Friday is going to be really nice, you’re really excited to go out for dinner together again. With his workload increasing, Yunho doesn’t have much free time, so any excuse to have a moment just for the two of you is rarer than it might seem. After all, that was what caused your last fight a few days ago, a fight whose trace is slowly fading on your right wrist…
Yunho is just far too passionate, which was actually what attracted you to him the moment you first met. But once you started living together, facing his intense temperament every day when you both came home exhausted from work felt draining at times. Still, it doesn't change the fact that he is the most important person in your life. You love him just as much as he loves you, and he reminds you of that every single day. Love just hurts sometimes…
The cold November air hits your face the moment you step out onto the street. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself and put on your headphones. The autoplay kicks in, shuffling to the song Drama, and you just shake your head. Life really has a twisted sense of humor sometimes…
You could walk to the café with your eyes closed, because you've been working there ever since you moved to Seoul. A 24-hour café is actually a great setup, and honestly, you prefer the night shifts the most. There aren't many customers, which gives you time to think about life, your dreams, yourself… and Yunho.
The café's name, Refuge, is just more proof to you that life has a twisted sense of humor, or maybe it's just proof that destiny, or something like it, actually exists and everyone's path is predetermined. Maybe that also explains why some people suffer…
“Thank God you’re here,” Seoho says instead of a greeting the moment you walk into the café. Judging by the look on his face, you can tell he’s genuinely relieved that his day shift is coming to an end and he can finally go home. “Today has been insane. There’s a group of medical students sitting in the corner, cramming for some exam… from what I overheard, it’s anatomy. If I stayed here for another hour, I could probably take the exam with them and pass with an A+,” he grumbles, and you can’t help but burst out laughing.
“Other than that, it’s been pretty quiet all day, like every Wednesday, so you shouldn't expect any major rush,” he says as he takes off his apron and swaps it for his jacket. Meanwhile, you drop your purse in the small breakroom in the back, put on your apron, and keep only your phone with you.
Seoho is already at the door on his way out when he turns back to you. “Oh, I almost forgot! There’s one slice of strawberry cake left in the display fridge, so if you don’t sell it by midnight, it’s yours,” he winks, as if it’s some kind of grand prize. You nod with a smile and wave goodbye. Then your gaze falls on the lonely slice of strawberry cake in the fridge… it looks almost as pathetic as you feel…
It’s only 8:10 PM, so your shift has barely even started, yet you already know it’s going to feel endless. On the other hand, you feel better here than at home, even if your mind and your thoughts about your complicated relationship with Yunho start spinning out of control automatically in the empty, quiet café, completely against your will.
The medical students at the corner table give up on their studying shortly after midnight, leaving you all alone in the café. You hope that at least they pass their important exam without any casualties. You don't bother to wipe down their table right away, because no one else is likely to come in now, maybe just a few stray souls who missed the last subway home.
You absentmindedly roll up your long sleeve and stare at the bruise on your wrist. You don't know why, but you feel this constant, compulsive need to check it instead of trying to forget it's there. Under the café lights, the bruise doesn't look as harsh as it did under the bathroom bulb. You love Yunho more than anything, you’ve never loved a man like this before, and even though he is hot-headed and often acts before he thinks, you can’t imagine your life without him right now. You wonder if moving in together made everything worse, or if it was something else entirely. Maybe the fault really does lie somewhere within you…
Time ticks by, but not as fast as you’d like. With a sigh, you look up at the massive clock across from you and realize it’s 3:00 AM. It's the hour when normal people are asleep, and abnormal people like you sit around, drowning in melancholy memories of how everything used to be better…
You grab a rag from the counter and head over to the table where the medical students were sitting just three hours ago. You wipe it down slowly until you hear the chime above the door. At first, you roll your eyes, worried it’s some drunk who mistook Refuge for a 24-hour bar.
The first thing you notice when you turn around is a man dressed completely in black, with a hoodie pulled down far too low over his brow. Your first instinct is that he might be a thief, but judging by his slow, hesitant movements, he seems more like a exhausted late-night visitor.
“What can I get for you?” you ask while still wiping the table, keeping your eyes on the floor as you walk back behind the counter so you can give the customer your full attention.
“Hot americano,” a quiet voice calls out before you can even finish your question. You freeze for a second because that voice sounds incredibly familiar. You finally lift your head, and it takes your brain a moment to process who you are looking at. He isn't exactly a stranger…he’s the person whose voice plays in your headphones every single day, over and over again, whose face is on your phone screen in various forms, and whose lyrics have helped you get through your darkest times. It’s G-Dragon...
You must be staring for too long because he shifts uncomfortably and looks around, hinting that he’d like to get his order and sit down in the secluded corner where those students were hiding just hours ago.
“Uh… s-sure… You can take a seat, I’ll bring it over to you,” you stammer, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. It’s incredibly rude to stare at someone like that, but you can’t help yourself.
Meanwhile, Jiyong moves exactly to the table you predicted. After working at Refuge for so long, you pride yourself on being a good judge of customers, guessing everything from what they’ll order to which spot in the café they’ll choose to sit in. You just call it an occupational hazard.
As you stand by the espresso machine preparing the hot americano, you can’t stop looking over at Jiyong. He probably knows it, because he shoots a wary glance your way every now and then. When you finally bring the mug over on a tray, you linger by his table much longer than is polite. Jiyong just lifts his head and nods in thanks.
“Do you want an autograph or something…?” he asks after clearing his throat slightly, seeing that you still haven’t moved from his table and are just standing beside him in silence.
“No, I… actually, an autograph would be cool. If we had one of those celebrity walls where famous people sign their names, I’d tell you to sign it, but we don’t have a wall like that, and nobody famous ever comes here anyway,” you laugh, trying to be funny, but it clearly doesn't land with Jiyong, making it more awkward than amusing.
Deep down, a voice tells you that you should just stop bothering him and go back behind the counter. On the other hand, you know this might be the only chance in your life to see Jiyong this close, even if he looks like he’d rather be left alone.
“I’m having a really bad day and—” Jiyong takes a breath, but you don't let him finish.
“Me too,” you cut him off, and Jiyong shoots you a frown. You look around helplessly until your eyes fall on the display fridge with the last slice of strawberry cake. “I have an idea…” you say as you move back behind the counter, place the final slice of cake onto a small plate, grab a fork, and head back over to Jiyong's table. “Let's play a game…” you say and pausing for a moment. The word game is apparently intriguing, or perhaps alarming, enough to make Jiyong lift his head. He looks back and forth between you and the slice of cake you place between you as you sit down directly opposite him.
“Whoever had the worse day wins this last slice of cake, because otherwise I’ll just have to throw it away, and that would be a real shame,” you say with a faint smile. “I’ll start… I got into a pretty massive fight with my boyfriend, and even though our relationship is kind of in ruins, I’m terrified because I can’t imagine life without him...” you blurt out all in one breath and folding your hands in your lap under the table. “Now you,” you add.
Jiyong sighs, dropping his eyes to the table. He stays silent for a long time, so long that you begin to think he won't answer at all, giving you a clear sign to just get up and leave him alone with his hot americano.
“Fine,” he says after a moment. “Today at the studio, I accidentally deleted every single song I’ve been working on for the past three months. Everything is gone…. Not a single second remains from any of the tracks I recorded…” he says and staring unblinkingly at the slice of cake resting between you.
Another long silence follows, and you have no idea what to say. You don't want to debate who has it worse, because honestly, you both seem to be winning this game by a landslide. You watch Jiyong literally staring intently at the slice of cake, unsure if he's just hungry or if sweets are simply his ultimate cure for stress. Or maybe he just doesn't want to look at you and is waiting for you to finally leave his table…
“Okay, I guess you won,” you say quietly, slowly rising from your chair and sliding the plate with the cake and fork closer to him across the table. You stand up and begin walking back behind the counter. He probably really does need to be alone, with no desire to be questioned or to have anyone dig deeper into the pain of losing his flawless artistic work.
“Bring another fork,” you hear behind you, and you turn around in surprise. “…I think we both deserve this slice of cake,” he adds.
Jiyong looks at you, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time you walk behind the counter to grab a fork and then sit back down opposite him. For a long while, you both stare at the slice of cake between you, until you find the courage to go first and take the first bite. It slides down your throat faster than you expected, and only now do you realize how starving you actually are, since you haven't eaten anything all day (or rather, all yesterday and today). After all, you struggle with this loss of appetite followed by binge-eating every time you and Yunho have a fight and scream at each other… or rather, every time he is the one screaming.
“So, you don't have any backup where you save your recorded and unreleased songs?” you ask after a moment, once Jiyong has taken his first bite of the cake too.
“Actually, I do, I just didn't notice the backup was full, and then it was too late,” he shrugs, using his fork to scoop a larger piece of strawberry from the cake and eating it. “And you?” he asks after a moment.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I mean what you said about not being able to imagine life without your boyfriend. A person has to really love someone to say something like that,” he replies, taking a sip of his hot americano.
“Yeah, and I think that's paradoxically the biggest problem,” you murmur, taking another bite of the cake.
“Why?” Jiyong asks after a moment of silence. When you lift your eyes to look at him, you realize he is watching you without blinking, and your statement seems to have genuinely intrigued him.
“Because…” you exhale, pausing for a second as all those exhausting days flash through your mind. “It's just too complicated, or maybe I'm making it unnecessarily complicated because… never mind, I'm talking nonsense, sorry,” you smile apologetically and shake your head.
Jiyong watches you for a moment before slowly nodding. “I get it, you probably don't want to talk about it.”
You smile sadly. “Actually, your songs play in my headphones every morning when I walk home from my night shift, and even when I'm walking from home to work. They help me sort everything out in my head. Sometimes I feel like you can see right into all of our minds…” you say, pausing for a moment and stopping mid-chew. This sounds really weird, and Jiyong's look only confirms it. “Sorry, I'm talking nonsense again, I don't want to sound like some stalker, so… Even though I'm a huge fan of yours, right now I just see you as a person who is having an incredibly awful night... I'm really sorry about what happened to your songs,” you say, trying to change the subject quickly because you know you're starting to ramble.
Jiyong is slightly taken aback, but then his expression softens, and he just quietly sips his coffee with a slight nod. From there, the conversation carries on, flowing smoothly and calmly. You talk about everything and nothing. Jiyong shares how hard it is to function under all that massive pressure sometimes, and you tell him about your home that you miss, and how terribly lonely you feel in Seoul since you don't really have anyone here besides Yunho…
The hours tick by, the bubble of the 24-hour café shielding you from the rest of the world, and in that moment, you two are just two stray souls in the middle of the night. Suddenly, outside the large glass windows, the sky begins to turn into grayish and cold morning shades. It's 5:30 AM, then a 5:45 AM... The atmosphere of that deep night, where you were in the café like you were in a different universe, suddenly begins to crack under the pressure of the approaching day.
Exactly at 6:00 AM, the chime above the door rings. The first morning customer enters Refuge, evidently a business professional in a suit rushing to get his morning coffee before work.
Jiyong freezes that very second, and the tired, approachable person you were just sharing the last bite of cake with instantly vanishes, replaced by a startled, guarded creature. Reflexively, he pulls his black hoodie lower over his brow, whips a pair of dark sunglasses out of his pocket, and puts them on, even though it's barely dawn outside. He quickly gets up from his chair. “Thanks for the coffee,” he says in a muffled voice. “And for the cake. And… for the conversation, it was nice.”
Before you can say anything in response, he places a bill on the table in front of you, far exceeding the cost of his order, turns around, and leaves the café with long, hurried strides. The chime above the door rings one more time, and he vanishes into the morning mist of Seoul.
Your shift is taken over by a tired coworker half an hour later, and you finally step out into the cold morning air. You put on your headphones, and Jiyong's voice automatically starts playing in your ears, the very voice you heard live just a few hours ago. Except this time, it's different. You no longer just hear an unreachable, imaginary K-pop icon you'll never see in person. You hear the tired guy who sat at the table with you, staring intently at the strawberry cake between you.
When you get home, the apartment is absolutely silent. Yunho is asleep in the bedroom, tucked under the covers, since he has the day off today and doesn't have to go to work. You quietly undress and slip into bed with him. You feel a strange, creeping sense of guilt for spending the night locked in such a deep conversation with someone other than your boyfriend, but after all, it was a chance encounter that will never happen again, and you'll only ever see him at one of his concerts, which he also happened to mention. When you close your eyes, you don't see Yunho's face, in fact, you don't see any face at all. Only Jiyong's voice echoes in your head, and with it, for the first time in a very long time, you finally fall asleep peacefully.
A little note: I already had a pretty clear idea of how I wanted to write this series back when I first read the request. I even had the name of the café where Y/N works in my head, and considering the theme of the story, Refuge felt strangely fitting to me.
Then, during my trip to Seoul, I came across an actual café with that name, so I’m taking it as a quiet little sign that I was finally supposed to start writing this request 🤍
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