Sunghoon, my dear

I have been forgiven countless times, still a monster.

[hoonstrology]

ERROR 404: WORD LIMIT REACHED.  ✩ PSH.

"i promise myself, while drinking a glass of water in the morning, to tell you. i'll confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow. you are pretty." — pretty u by seventeen.

PAIRING ➤ park sunghoon x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS ➤ he wouldn't necessarily call himself talkative. sunghoon is just a normal college boy with normal hobbies and interests, so of course he likes talking about those, and he especially likes talking about you— but talking to you? it's an entirely different challenge. and he knows he has to man up and speak up before you get sick of his silence.

CONTAINS ➤ 18.3k words.⠀⠀college!au, classmates!au, slow burn-ish, strangers to lovers, lowkey loser!sunghoon, romance, very fluffy, light angst, but a whole lot more comfort, a bit of jealousy, sunghoon is a stupid dumb idiot lover boy. ✮ featuring: enhypen's 02z + heeseung, ive's gaeul and liz, and seventeen's jeonghan. WARNINGS ➤ suggestive content, making out, swearing, pet names, alcohol consumption, parties, brief mentions of blood, unintentional self injury, poor attempts at humor, sunghoon is kind of emotionally constipated but in a good way. sunghoon's taller than reader. lmk if i missed anything!

  MASTERLIST.  ┆ EPILOGUE SERIES.

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀my first written work !! i normally write smaus so writing a full oneshot has been daunting. this is my literal brain child so i hope you guys love it as much as i do. send feedback via asks/replies !! (pls be nice) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

  𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥♡

TODAY MARKED THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR FOUR YEARS IN COLLEGE. you walked past your university’s gates, chin tipped up and proud with a book held close to your chest, thin silver glasses framing your face, and a smile that you spent an entire hour practicing in the mirror yesterday. 

you wore the best outfit you could, but not in a trying-hard overdressed kind of way — just enough effort to make you memorable. you wanted to make a good impression, after all.

if you could look lost enough, maybe a senior would notice you. maybe he’d ask for your schedule, walk you to class, make light gossip about the professors you have and in a few years, he’d propose to you in the same spot by the gates, and you’d say "i do," and live a happy married lif—

clank!

you get snapped out of your sweet little daydream as pain shoots through your shoulder, down your left arm.

“fuck,” you whisper, head snapping up to shoot a frustrated glare at the thick pole in front as if it’s the one who bumped into you.

the impact was hard enough to have your book and glasses falling to the floor with a thud, and definitely hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow because even merely moving your arm makes you wince.

thankfully, the area was mostly empty, which meant your dream of being a college cool girl was still in play, save for a tall guy just a foot beside you.

shit. 

he’s already kneeling down to pick your things up and before you could even bend over to help, he just looks up and gestures to you to stay still by pointing to your outfit.

“skirt,” is all he says, his voice deep and quiet.

you’d normally blush at the gentlemanly gesture but instead, you do it out of pure embarrassment. 

god, this wasn’t the meet-cute you imagined. 

he hands you back your book and your glasses, freshly wiped of dirt from the hem of his faded black hoodie. you slip it on your face again and bow your head out of shame, stepping aside to escape this nightmare of an embarrassment, but before you could even attempt to, he tugs on the sleeve of your cardigan, showing you his open palm like he's telling you to stop.

and against your better judgement, you do. 

the stranger slips one of his backpack’s straps off his shoulder, fishing a box out of it and begins scribbling away with a pen cap trapped between his teeth.

you take this time to look at him — really look at him.

tall, lean physique, sharp features, fair skin. he wore a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses that framed his kind-looking eyes really well. he’s stylish, no question about that.

painfully handsome, too.

the pen is closed with a faint click and he slips it back into his hoodie’s pocket and you take that as a sign to stop checking him out lest you embarrass yourself further.

his lips purse into a straight line and his thick eyebrows furrow closer as he gives the box an intense stare, the soft eyes from a while ago turning more serious and stressed as it turns to you, back to the box, and back to you again.

the suffocating silence is shattered by two men shouting from a distance, the shorter one of them comically jumping and waving his hands in the air. he turns to look at the source of the noise and lets out a small grunt, handing you the box and before jogging away without another word.

you stand there, dumbstruck, watching the three boys interact for a while before turning on your heels, slipping the box between your chest and the book. 

that was odd. 

you walk to class with a sore shoulder and cheeks that still feel warm from the whole ordeal. upon finding your room, new faces give you polite smiles or nods of acknowledgement and you do the same. once you're seated and settled, you put the book down on top of your desk.

the forgotten box falls on your lap, urging you to take a closer look at it. 

menthol pain relief patches. 

you flip the box around and you're greeted by a pastel yellow post-it note stuck on the back.

“for your shoulder. please be careful next time.” 

he probably thinks you're a loser with no depth perception—and he wouldn't be wrong for thinking that—but it doesn't stop your cheeks from heating up for the nth time this morning.

you convince yourself it's okay. that your university is big, and you surely you won't meet him again. the fact disappoints you a little bit, yes, but at least you're saved from having to face him after what happened.

you press your fingers against your forehead in stress.

first day in and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of a man. not just any man but a handsome one. a very important distinction. 

developing a crush feels on him feels pathetic. he just gave you muscle relief patches, an act of kindness that was just a little bit above the bare minimum. and he only said one word to you, for gods’ sake.

but you’ve never been one to think logically, so while your lecture starts, your head starts drifting off and it’s already incorporating the good-looking, tall stranger in your romantic fantasies.

as it turns out, the man in your dreams wouldn’t be a senior, nor would he be gossiping with you about your professors.

instead, you’d be sharing them. 

during your third class of the day, the handsome stranger walks in the lecture hall with his two friends in tow and you immediately recognize him because of the glasses. his hands are stuffed into his hoodie as he settles on a seat a couple of rows in front of you, still as intimidating as he looked like when he gave you the box.

you learned of his name when the professor called him to read a passage in the book. 

park sunghoon. 

you think it’s a pretty name—fitting for a pretty boy like him.

sunghoon’s voice was steady while he read, smoothly pronouncing every word, clearing his throat after a mistake and resuming with the same composure. the speed at which he spoke was just right, slow enough to enunciate every syllable but not too much to bore whoever chose to listen.

"mr. park, care to share your thoughts on what you just read?"

sunghoon only stood straighter, his natural confidence in his voice making you swoon in your seat.

“i don't believe the fable's moral lesson to necessarily be applicable in real life where businesses and industries have become fast-paced. should the readers need to have a takeaway, they should focus on what the hare lacked: humility. his over-confidence is the ultimate reason for his downfall, being a creature that has already been given natural talent and an advantage on the terrain—” 

and just like that, your small happy crush turned into full-blown attraction. his voice? his eloquence? damn. it’s like he’s trying—and succeeding—to make you want him.

you wish you had sat in front so you could look at him more. you could only imagine how stern he’d look, how his thick brows would meet together making him look even more gorgeous when he’s focused.

but for now, you could settle for the view of his back while trying your best to listen to your professor, and not to the voice that suspiciously resembles sunghoon's playing in a constant loop inside your head. 

he’s in the rest of your classes today too, which makes the task of focusing twice as hard. you feel like a creep with the way your eyes naturally gravitate to him every time you hear his voice, or when you see a tiny bit of movement from the corner of your eye. 

so when it’s almost time to go home, you do the most un-creepy thing you can think of: wait outside the door. 

one student after the another, they all step out one by one.

then he finally walks out, laughing at something his friend said before freezing mid-sentence as he catches sight of you standing with a familiar box laid out on your palm.

he looked surprised for a moment, before gripping on the single strap hanging on his shoulder, shifting uncomfortably before raising a brow like he was waiting for you to speak. 

“oh! i, uh– i already put some on my shoulder and on my arm a while ago. there’s too much in the pack and i figured i could give it back to you since i don’t really have any use for it.” you explain, pushing it towards him.

one of his friends gasps at the sight, quickly throwing a punch to sunghoon’s shoulder which he receives with a quiet hiss.

“what the fuck, hoon? i was looking for that! you know i have try-outs later!” the boy shouts, his australian accent thick and evident as he snatches the pack from your palm. “tch, can’t believe you lied to me.”

sunghoon gives him a cold stare, taking the patches away again before whispering something to the other boy which resulted in the rowdy blond getting dragged away by his collar.

he flipped the box over once, twice, and raised an eyebrow, seeming to notice that the post-it note was not there anymore.

“is this what you’re looking for?” taking the neatly folded paper from your pocket, you place it on top of the box.

“i'm sorry for taking it. i thought it was for me. unless you also have other friends who regularly bump into poles while actively daydreaming and you actually meant to give that to someone els—” 

sunghoon cuts you off with his index finger pressed on his own lips. he gives both back to you before flashing you a small smile, one that causes your poor little heart to thump faster.

“for you. keep it.” his words are clipped but you can feel the kindness behind them. 

say something, anything, to keep the conversation going. 

you hold your hand out. “i’m Y/N, by the way.”

"i know. i'm sunghoon.” he murmurs, looking at the hand extended towards him before shaking it.

you sense the slight hesitation but the contact makes you giddy nonetheless. it’s as sweet as it is short lived because sunghoon quickly lets go, hands returning to the safety of his hoodie’s pocket. 

“huh? how’d you know? i don’t remember the professor calling me. wait—did he take attendance? shit, i forgot to say present—” 

the chuckle he lets out is low and breathy, making the words halt in your mouth. sunghoon shakes his head and his eyes do a quick scan of you before pointing to the small sticker that reads 'yoon Y/N's!' on the book you've been holding.

"oh."

another beat of awkward silence.

“uh.. what’s your schedule?” you ask with a kind smile, following aunghoon as he starts walking towards your building's exit and you try not to dwell on how he started walking slower, at the perfect pace for you to keep up with his long strides. 

he fishes for his phone to show you the picture and you do the same, eyes looking at your screen then his.

“we share most classes! all the ones in the afternoon.” you smile victoriously, and sunghoon releases another quiet chuckle, nodding along.

before you know it, you’ve reached the gate where his friends are waiting. he pauses, squinting his eyes at the duo who suddenly stopped talking to look between you and him, teasing grins plastered on their faces which just made sunghoon rub his temple.

“oh? who is this? a new friend?” the black-haired friend asks, a smirk on his lips while raising an eyebrow at sunghoon. 

“Y/N.” sunghoon says, pointing to you. “jake.” he points to the blonde boy with an aussie accent, before turning to the tanner friend with a jawline so sharp you’re convinced you’d need more than menthol patches if you touched it. “jay.” 

sunghoon must have told them about what happened this morning because they looked at you, eyes scanning you up and down with a flash of amusement, maybe surprise, showing in their eyes. 

“hi.” you give them a shy wave and they return it with a welcoming smile, their hands gently shaking yours.

jake pulls sunghoon away, huddling on one side while whispering, their heads occasionally turning to you every now and then with synchronicity.

“what do you mean that’s her?”

“jake, pipe the fuck down!”

you turn to jay with raised eyebrows. “are they… talking about me?”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's grown familiar to this scenario. “looks like it. please forgive jake, he’s normally more… discreet when he’s curious about someone.” 

yeah, there’s nothing discreet about jake pointing his finger at you with a wide smile. sunghoon, on the other hand, is insistent on pushing jake's hand down with a pretty pink flush on his cheeks, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. very cute.

“do you guys share all your classes?” 

“yeah, we share an apartment so we were together when we chose our classes.”

“so I'd take it that you guys are close?” 

jay gives you a nod, eyes fond while he looks at his best friends. “met in middle school. and we’ve unfortunately been inseparable since then.”

“that's cute. must be nice to have people you can rely on already. college is kinda scary.” 

“you have us!” jake whispers from beside you, making you scream in surprise at his sudden presence.

sunghoon shoots him a sharp glare, tugging on your cardigan for the second time today to pull you by his side. the golden retriever looking boy presses his palms together, whispering a small apology before handing you his phone.

“sunghoon told me you have afternoon classes with us! so you can give me your number and just reach us whenever. not to brag, but i’m the most popular in this trio. i'll text you whenever there’s a party. i'll getcha connected to people in no time.” he adds with a wink, pulling a laugh out of you.

“i think i’ll stick to texting you for home work.” you reply with a roll of your eyes, punching your number in jake’s phone nonetheless. 

a few more friendly words are exchanged before they wave you goodbye because jay and jake are going to your college’s basketball try-outs. sunghoon isn’t interested but is supposedly "required by law" to go because he’s their moral support.

you laugh and give both of them a fist bump for good luck before walking away, failing to catch sunghoon’s lingering stare as he watches your figure disappear.

that night, you buried yourself under your duvet, congratulating yourself for surviving your first day of freshman year and making three new friends on top of that.

just then, your phone vibrated.

💬 from: unknown number — this is sunghoon. :)

your friendship with park sunghoon slowly blossomed from that day onward. though your first meeting was full of chaos, the following months were anything but.

much like him, it was calm. respectful, even.

you would give each other a smile when you passed by one another in the mornings, he’d shoot you a text to let you know he reserved the seat next to him when you were running ten minutes late in the afternoon, or you'd remind him of tasks due the next day.

he even offered to accompany you to the university’s library when your friends weren't available, headphones on and only taking it off to tap on your shoulder when he notices you dozing off. 

one day, you asked him to grab lunch with you under the pretense of not having anyone to eat with, and then it became routine.

usually it would be just you and sunghoon, but the boys would tag along every now and then. he would be noisier during those lunches, and you relished it because that’s the only time you get to see him be so comfortable and rowdy. 

you pondered what the cause could be, and eventually landed on a theory during one of your sociology classes.

deindividuation, as your professor called it.

she said being part of a larger group can lead to a sense of reduced personal responsibility and accountability which then causes individuals to feel less inhibited and more likely to engage in behaviors they might not otherwise, including speaking loudly or interrupting.

she basically described sunghoon to a perfect T. 

because your friendship with him is quiet.

his half of the friendship, to be specific.

you mostly got to know him through mere observation: his habits, things he enjoyed and things he disliked. if you didn’t discover things yourself, his friends would be the one offering sunghoon's information to you.

like when jay told you he has a younger sister he adored, or when jake told you that he once wanted to go to antarctica, a dream that he left behind after he took an interest in photography. 

if you were to type out every word he's said to you for the entirety of your friendship in a continuous line, you’d probably be able to fill four pages of a document in arial 11. maybe five.

if you remember correctly, his longest running sentence is “please walk on the inside part of the sidewalk next time, angel—it’s dangerous.” 

a yet-to-be defeated record of fourteen words.

it was also the first time he called you by a pet name and it had you screaming into your pillow as soon as you got home. 

initially, you thought it’d be better to converse with him through text. and it was an improvement, yes—but only by a few notches.

you’d be able to make twenty pages with the words he said through the phone, but there were still days where he’d just reply with one word. or a single emoji. 

but sunghoon isn’t nonchalant. far from it, actually.

he laughs at your jokes, even giggles when it's done to his type of humor. if he sees you stressing out during a pop quiz, he’d slyly push his paper towards you to let you copy his answers. and he already knows to take his sweater off and hand it to you before history class because the heater doesn’t work well in that classroom. 

almost always, he’d walk out of the classroom with his bag slung on one of his shoulders and yours on the other with the finesse of someone who's used to being reliable.

you’ve never had to open your own water bottles or push through doors either because sunghoon would be the one doing it for you. all of that while wearing a proud smile.

and barely any noise.

when you ask him questions, he’d either hum to affirm, shake his head no, or shrug if he didn’t know the answer. if he’s the one asking you questions, he just gesture with his hands or fingers to get his message across.

one morning when you went to class in a new hairstyle, he pointed to it with raised brows. “ah, just wanted to try something new.” you explained. his reply was a smile and a measly thumbs up.

all that to say, he's an acts-of-service rather than a words-of-affirmation type of guy.

you always try to fill that awful silence between the both of you with endless rambles, and like the reliable person he is, he always listens with a hum here and there to let you know that he was still following your story about how your neighbor scared you shitless by trying to open your door in the middle of the night.

"—he shook the knob so hard i had to call an emergency locksmith. it’s literally the second time he did that this week! and he doesn’t even have the decency to pay me back for the fee!”

by the end your tirade, you’re slumped over the café’s table, cheeks squished flat on the smooth surface. he just chuckles and taps on your head with a finger and you raise it slightly. 

sunghoon places a sheet of tissue down and leans back, allowing you to press your face against the table again, but hygienically this time around.

“you care for my skin more than i do.” you grumble, blowing the stray hairs away from your face. 

he does it like it’s routine because it is. 

the first time you did it, he shook his head in slight disappointment. “you’ll get acne.” he said, voice flat while pointing to his cheeks.

so after months of it happening, he learned to always have tissues in his bag just in case you decided you wanted to have another ranting session.

a few minutes pass and you hear him groan before reaching over to show you his watch. two thirty-seven PM.

“man. fuck history class.” you sigh, starting to pack up your things whereas sunghoon's already a few steps past the cafe door.

“hoonie! wait for me!” you whine, running to catch up and he pauses, looking at you over his shoulder.

he only resumes his strides when he hears the familiar taps of your footstep beside him, making him smile to himself as he shoves his hands in his pocket, walking back to class with the cold autumn wind that pushed leaves of gold and orange past his feet. 

this is what he does.

if he wanted to go somewhere, he’d guide you to the destination by walking instead of telling. sometimes, because you moved at the pace of a snail, he would need to tug on your shirt or on the end of your jacket to help you keep up.

he never actually touches you. not intentionally. the usual skinship he’d initiate is a tap on your shoulder, or on the back of your hand. if he was feeling extra touchy, the most he’d give is an affectionate pat to your head. 

if you remember correctly, that has only happened seven times so far.

there was also that one time he touched your cheeks for a brief moment, but you don’t think that counts because he only did it to push your head away when jake jokingly leaned towards you with a kissy face. 

“sunghoon!” 

two heads turn around to see heeseung, a sophomore, approaching with a basketball pinned between his hand and hip. he’s a good friend of jake and jay's, and by association, sunghoon’s.

“mind if i take him away for a bit?” heeseung asks you, the usual charming smile on his face as he taps on sunghoon’s shoulder. you nod and shoo them away, but not without sunghoon pointing to an empty bench first.

you head over there, one leg crossed over the other as you observe the bright smile on sunghoon’s face. words like “girls” and “after party” are thrown, and you already know it has something to do with the boys’ basketball match this weekend. 

but their words translate more like faint buzzing because you’re too busy dwelling on the way sunghoon interacts with heeseung.

it’s something that has been bothering you for a good while—the way he becomes much more animated when he talks to someone. the way sentences don’t sound strained leaving his mouth.

it’s like everyone has access to a button that activates talkative sunghoon. everyone else but you. 

the theory of deindividuation didn’t apply to him anymore. maybe it never did.

sunghoon wasn’t technically popular, no. he was still an introvert who preferred staying on the sidelines but from what you’ve seen, anyone who was brave enough to go up to him and make friends, he accepted without protest.

weren’t you already friends with him? so why can’t he be like that with you?

your mind reels back to the time you caught him talking to a senior on the way to your next class. they were having a conversation about the cameras he liked and his history with photography, and it made you wonder for a second whether he had an identical twin his friends forgot to tell you about.

you could hear the childlike fascination as he talked, voice practically dripping with enthusiasm. so when you asked him about cameras later that same day and all you got was a simple 'i like them', it simply broke your heart.

you've spent days thinking about why he couldn’t open up to you the same way he did with others.

you’d scroll through your texts with sunghoon and it's always polite. always curt. always “how’s your weekend?” but when you ask him the same question, he’d reply with “just okay,” before turning the conversation to something about you again.

maybe he wasn’t interested in you. not in that way, at least. because why would he? he, who would make people stare whenever you walked the hallways together. he, who made every student in class stop whatever they were doing just to listen to him whenever he recited.

he, who hugged acquaintances yet can’t seem to stand the thought of his hand grazing yours.

it made you overthink whether you truly were a friend to him or just another overzealous classmate forcing your unwanted presence.

you don’t even realize you’ve started tearing up until you see sunghoon kneeling in front of you, eyes full of worry as he looks into your glassy ones.

“angel? w–what’s wrong?” he asks, a hand reaching up but he bites his lips and brings it back down to his side. 

you turn your head to the side and force out a laugh. “where’s heeseung?”

“he left. tell me what’s wrong.” sunghoon places a hand on your knee. he doesn’t need to tell you how uncomfortable it was, because you could tell from his strained expression alone that initiating that simple touch burned him.

“it’s nothing. just… some dust got into my eyes.” you rub your eyes with your curled fist, exaggerating a few blinks before you gently push his hand off your knee.

not even a second passes and you already miss the warmth of his touch. it's pathetic.

“there. it’s gone now.” you hum, pulling him up by his bag’s strap. “let’s go? mr. shin will kill us if we’re late.”

he looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t.

he never does.

instead, he strips off his white hoodie and hands it to you, looking at you with expectant eyes. he just stands there, your bag in his hand with the same expression until you relent and throw his hoodie over your head while rolling your eyes. 

you walk to your history class warm and smelling like a pleasant mix of sunghoon’s cologne and laundry detergent.

your exit plan hasn’t even started yet and you’re already failing. 

three weeks. 

three cruel and agonizing weeks of sunghoon missing your presence. 

he thinks it started that weekend. like heeseung suggested, he texted you an invite to the frat party to celebrate the boys’ win. He never really got a reply but he did see you arrive safely which put him a little more at ease. 

you greeted him with a breathtaking smile and the same little wave he started looking forward to receiving everyday—his biggest motivator to attend and do well in class despite the hell that it is.

you wore a short ivory white dress, blessing him with far more skin than he usually saw within the confines of yours classrooms, your hair done up to show the smooth curves of your neck and the sharp angle of your shoulders.

all he could think about is dirtying your exposed skin with marks so the annoying boys in your class would get the hint to stay away from what's his, and he hated it.

you don't even know it, but you make something deeply covetous stir inside him.

you’re already beautiful in his eyes, but that night you truly looked like an angel, and he wanted nothing more than to kneel and follow you towards the light. 

jiwon and gaeul snapped him out of his trance by dragging you away to the other side of the house before he can even get a word in, and all sunghoon could do is pray that you don't leave with someone else.

the after party went on. drunk people leaning against the kitchen counter, a random couple sucking each others’ faces off on the recliner by the entrance, and jay crying “foul!” when he lost another round of beer pong. for the sixth time. 

sunghoon looked at his phone, brows almost meeting together as he stared at your conversation. still left on read, still no reply, but he decided to send you another one anyway. 

💬 to: angel y/n. — your dress looks nice. :)

“why’s my Y/N-ie not here?” jake approached him, red solo cup in hand. 

“first of all: she’s not yours. second: you’re already slurring your words, jaeyun. sober up before we get to the car, i beg. i don’t want my car to smell like vomit again.” sunghoon grunted, trying to push the boy off as jake leaned against him for support, face pressed on his shoulder while whining about how much he wanted to see you. 

sunghoon sneered. “why? you gonna try to kiss her again?”

“if it’ll annoy you. like it always does.” jake snaps back, a drunken smirk on his face. 

sunghoon rolled his eyes, taking jake’s cup and pushing him with enough force to make him land on the couch.

“you didn’t even get to kiss her sober. what makes you think your wasted ass can do it this time?” the laugh he let out is light, yet traced with a bit of venom. 

looking at jake all sprawled out on the couch and giggling like a man without a care in the world made sunghoon's frown deepen. even thinking about that memory makes him want to knock jake out.

but he knows his best friend’s teasing is only done to get a reaction out of him, to press on a particularly sensitive bruise—the bruise being his feelings for you. 

“hoon!” he turned, seeing jay from the kitchen pointing to a girl.

he approached them with ease, flashing the stranger a smile. “he’s my friend who wanted to get something done.” jay said, charming as ever, palm pointed to sunghoon. 

“this is the minha, the artist i told you about. let me know when you guys agree on something, yeah?” he pat both their backs and made his exit, probably to tend to jake who was wasted and still trying to dance.

the girl turned to him with a gasp, excitedly showing the jewelry on her hand and fingers. they talked about the bracelet he wanted to be made, noting colors he did and didn’t want to include, even passionately showing her reference pictures.

in the middle of his conversation, he raised his head to look for jay but caught you instead, unreadable eyes moving from him to his new-found friend. he took a step back from her and one towards you but you vehemently shook your head, raising a hand to make him stay in place.

you gave him a smile, one that looked a little forced, a little too disingenuous and foreign in a kind face like yours. you mouthed ‘i’m heading home', thumb pointing to the door before waving goodbye.

“wait. i— i’ll be back.” he says to minha, running and pushing his way through the crowd of bodies. when he stepped out of the front door, gaeul's car had already sped off, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust.

💬 to: angel y/n. — i didn’t get to say goodbye. :(

the three bubbles popped up on his screen. after a few minutes of watching it appear and disappear, you finally replied.

💬 from: angel y/n. — it’s okay, sunghoon. enjoy the party! 👍

and so ensued the twenty one days of sunghoon’s torture. 

the absence wasn’t loud. it wasn’t immediate. it was a gradual pull, like flowers in a vase slowly losing their petals and vibrant color to their unnatural environment.

you were gone, but not entirely. though a part of him thinks it would have been more merciful if you just left outright, because the moment he starts noticing things, it’s like he can’t stop.

it's the type of cruelty only you could do to him.

you didn’t sit beside him anymore, opting to return to your previous spot behind him during classes. no more loud cheering by his side when he attended the boys’ basketball practices after class. and just to rub salt to his open wound, you made gaeul and jiwon replace him in your usual lunch spot.

that was the final straw — the thing that let him knew he somehow, some way, truly fucked up.

now he can’t even use classes as an excuse to see you because of course, of course, it had to happen right before the holiday break. not only was there an emotional distance, but a physical one, too.

he can’t text you either—not without looking stupid or desperate. the last message he sent read “okay. good night, y/n.” which was a reply to your dry “i think i'll sleep, sunghoon. night! :)” 

no more lunches, no more affectionate reminders of homework deadlines, and no more nicknames.

things changed. and the shift, though unnoticeable to others, was strong enough for his best friends to speak up. 

“i swear to god if you sigh one more time, i’ll actually mix bleach in your coffee to put you out of whatever misery you’re in.” jay grunts, throwing the couch pillow to sunghoon, unfazed and still busy fiddling with his phone despite getting hit square on his arm.

jake takes a peek from behind the couch, a plate of their shared dinner in hand, laughing as he sees sunghoon pathetically typing and deleting different variations of 'how was your day?' into his phone without actually sending anything.

“is our Y/N-ie still not talking to you?” he teases, moving to the sit on the floor, right between his best friend’s legs. the nickname rolling off jake's tongue makes sunghoon's brow twitch in irritation.

“still? I thought they were okay? didn’t she visit us during a game?”

sunghoon’s head snaps up to look at jay. “she did?” 

they nod. “the one we did before break.” 

“without me?” he says this time, voice pitched up in disbelief. 

they give him another nod.

“said she just wanted to drop by and watch us. sat with a long-haired blonde guy.” jay mumbles, giving him a shrug. 

“yeah. he seemed awfully close to her if you ask me. arm around her and everything. i’m surprised they weren’t making out.” jake adds, making the other laugh as he creates horrible slurping sounds with arms wrapped around himself.

sunghoon takes the pillow from earlier and smashes it across the side of jake’s head. “you’re disgusting.” he huffs, storming to his room, feeling his heart drop lower and lower with each stomp of his feet.

he hears nothing but static, clouded eyes burning holes on the framed photo atop his bedside table: a candid shot he took using his favorite film camera of you laughing so brightly that your eyes turned into crescents.

the mere thought of someone else seeing you in that light has dinner rushing back out his mouth.

you’ve made peace with your friendship with sunghoon.

you've long accepted that it won’t turn into anything more. at some point, you were able to tune out the girls that hang around him, not caring whether they'd confess. he rejected every single one of them anyway, and you know you wouldn't be any different than those pretty crying faces if you tried.

you only cared when people approached him to have a friendly conversation because sunghoon would happily give them a memorable one. that's what made you jealous.

hell, he even got your friends. gaeul mentioned natto once and sunghoon yapped about the delicacy like a day-one fan. he shared his favorite fashion brands with jiwon too. complete with a detailed explanation on his preferences and favorite collections.

granted, he wasn’t on the best terms with them right now because they were the ones who had to pick up the pieces of your heart when you started crying halfway through the drive back to your apartment after that cursed party.

you stood there long enough to see him laugh and giggle in amazement at whatever amazing thing the amazing girl was showing him on her phone, stood long enough to see how casually he held her hand and raised it to his face to look at her accessories.

your eyes read his lips, 'you’re so cool', right before he saw you.

gaeul held you in her arms as soon as you curled up in your bed, jiwon on the other side shushing you while stroking your head. 

"i just— i don’t get it.” you grunted, brashly wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, the mascara-laced tears staining your bedsheets as they dropped freely. “why he’s—why doesn't he doesn’t talk to me like that? but.. he looks at me like he likes me and, a–and he does things for me he doesn’t do with other people!”  

you were inconsolable, hiccuping in between sobs and screaming more words that your friends don’t understand anymore because you’re crying too much. they just exchanged tired looks while rubbing on your arm until you were exhausted enough to sleep.

the morning after, while pressing frozen spoons on your swollen eyelids, you were determined to treat him as he did you: sweet and kind, but from a safe distance.

close enough to keep your friendship with him together, but far enough so you wouldn’t have to feel your heart get stomped on when you hear him ramble about his passions to someone else.

sunghoon still attempted to ask about you through texts, tried to talk about the weather, or your progress on a project. he never brought up the topic of this weird drift in your relationship and neither did you.

at first, you replied within the same hour, then the same day, then after three days and so on.

ignoring him became easier when you went back home because you couldn’t see him, couldn't feel the hairs on your nape stand straight whenever his inspecting gaze was stuck on you. you could put your notifications on mute and pretend you fell asleep when he shot you another text to ask what's keeping you so busy.

half-way through the holiday, the ringtone you set specifically for sunghoon stopped ringing and you knew he stopped trying to reach you.

were you sad? were you relieved? you didn't know.

but what you did know is that you have to keep up this act. so even after the second semester started, you diligently stuck to your new routine.

nods in the hallway, civil hi’s and hello’s in the classroom, hoping and praying that your feelings would slip away the same way you were slipping from him.

you marked today’s date with another X.

thirty six days since the rift, twenty nine days since the texts stopped.

ten days since random letters started appearing.

you didn’t think he was trying to hide it. and if he did, he was doing a shit job because you were able to recognize his penmanship with just a glance—sunghoon had an odd way of writing the letter y, after all: a different kind of neat with a little flick at the end.

some days, the letters would be slipped in through your locker, and on busier days, it would be on your desk accompanied with food.

the drinks varied, but the pastry stayed the same. an almond croissant from your favorite café. the one you used to hangout with him.

“i don’t know what i did, but i hope you know i’m sorry.” 

that was the first letter he wrote. written in a plain piece of yellow pad, contrasting the way it’s elegantly wrapped—in an ivory envelope with a small heart sticker sealing it. y

ou made your friends read it too, and gaeul cackled loudly, teasing you for immediately turning soft and wanting to run back into sunghoon's arms.

“you’re seriously folding as quick as he folded that half-assed letter.” she said in amusement, chopsticks roughly poking through the seaweed roll on jiwon’s lunch box.

the blonde just rubbed your shoulder in understanding, shooting the older girl a glare. “don’t blame our Y/N! she’s just a girl in love.”

"hopeless romantics, the two of you." the other girl replied with a shake of her head.

since that day, the letters have improved. still in the same off-white envelope, the same red heart-shaped sticker. the content was different each time, but they made your heart race all the same.

“your hoodie today looks comfortable. i hope you’re staying warm.” “i’ve been thinking about how you're the only one that who understands me even when i don’t say a lot. i'm grateful for that.” “i saw you crying today behind the bleachers. you said it was just from a yawn. it must have hurt a lot if you couldn’t tell anyone. next time you want to yawn again, just call for me, okay?” “i look at you a lot, but i think of you even more. what do i do with you?”

you push the small calendar inside your locker and sigh softly as you peel the heart sticker off, eyes reading through today’s letter. 

“it was drizzling today and i felt so much more sullen. it made me realize how much i keep searching for the voice, the presence that made everyday brighter. i miss you, Y/N.”

you hate how your first instinct is to look around. to check if you’ll see the same annoyingly handsome, glasses-wearing face that’s been haunting you for the past month.

but of course, he isn’t there.

so you fold the letter again.another one added to the collection of the letters that you keep safely in your room so you can read it again later tonight.

away from the crowd of students flocking to their lockers, sunghoon stands with a soft smile on his face as he watches you slip the envelope in your bag. when you close the metal door shut, he takes it as a sign to walk back to jay and jake, hands in his pocket, grinning in victory.

“she didn’t throw your corny letter away this time?” jake howls and sunghoon’s smug expression falls into one of panic, making him smack the boy in the back of his head.

“she never did, idiot. and keep your voice down.”

jay raises his eyebrow. “i don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her. surely it’s easier to just do that rather than… writing all this extra shit every night. who are you? shakespeare?”

sunghoon just sighs and shakes his head, his thumb reaching up to scratch his adam’s apple. “you don’t understand, and pray that you never do. because this shit? it ain’t easy.”

too much projects still left in your to-do list, too many passive-aggressive comments from useless group mates that you chose to ignore for the sake of keeping the peace, and one-too-many snide remark from a stranger in the women’s bathroom about how ‘interesting’ your shoes are.

needless to say, it's been a rough week.

most of the students have gone home by now. your girlfriends bid you goodbye an hour ago and you stayed behind, opting to work on your essay in an empty classroom because your head wouldn't work if tried to finish it at home. the fact that you'd have a meaningful rest tomorrow gave you the last push you needed to press submit.

tired footsteps echo down the empty hallway as you use your remaining energy to trudge towards your locker. it opens with a bleary rattle and you find a square box laid atop an envelope.

huh. it’s been a while since sunghoon left you one.

you push the heavy books inside before reaching for the black suede box, the fuzzy material tickling your fingertip as you push the top open.

inside, a bracelet. fine silver chains alternating with four round glass beads– pink and green blooming from the center like ink dropped in still water. a flat silver rectangle hangs in the center with the corners of it smoothly rounded out, and embellished with detailed carvings of flowers around the edges.

on the back, an engraving of your name.

why would he do this?

you carefully return the bracelet inside its case and reach for the envelope with pursed lips. you close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

you need to prepare yourself for what you're about to read.

if this one's as sweet as his past letters, your resolve—the tiny amount left of it—wouldn't be able to hold you back, especially considering how worn out you are.

"you must have been having a hard time lately—the Y/N who’s precious to sunghoon. i hope we can talk again because i want you to tell me that today was tough. i want to be the one you lean on, and the one who tells you that you’re doing a good job regardless. i know you’ve been suffering through a lot, and i want you to know that i’m here.”

the corner of the paper crumples in your tightening fist as you tilt your head up to keep your tears from smudging more of the black ink. you stand in place, trying your best to control your breathing, teeth biting down on your chapped lips as your eyes run over the last words.

“you’ve worked hard, angel. i'm proud of you.”

your shaky hands close the locker door, forehead leaning against it as you hold the letter close to your chest, quietly sniffling with your head hung low, hot tears falling directly on the dirty tiles.

“he saw me. he always sees me.” you whisper to yourself, shoulders shaking as your pained cries begin to overtake your body.

there's a faint warmth radiating on your back and your nose picks up notes of sandalwood and leather cutting through the sterile scent of alcohol mixed with floor cleaners.

sunghoon.

he towers over you, body trapped in between his and the cool metal of the lockers as if to hide you from invisible prying eyes. his sturdy arms flip you around, one hand moving to your head to carefully guide it towards his chest, and the other wrapping around you to give your back gentle soothing pats.

as always, he doesn’t say anything. just wraps you in his arms while his fingers comb through the ends of your hair.

the two of you stand there until your loud cries are replaced with small hiccups.there's a small, shameful whine that leaves your lips when sunghoon pulls away from the hug, but he leans in again, long legs slightly folding to match your height until his face is just a couple of inches away from yours.

behind the thick black glasses, his dark orbs gaze into you with worry written all over his face.

you can’t help but feel irritated at how good he looks despite the cheap fluorescent lights hanging overhead.

still as handsome as the first day you saw him—just a little rugged this time around. he looks tired. frazzled. perhaps just as exhausted as you. the dilated vessels turned the whites of his eyes pink, and there’s a faint blue tint on his under eyes that make him look like he’s been losing sleep.

a selfish part of you hopes you’re the reason for it.

“i wanted to comfort you, and yet i still managed to make you cry.” sunghoon says with a sad smile, both hands cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to your lashes. “i’m sorry, angel.” he whispers before hugging you again, making you sigh in comfort.

you missed hearing that nickname. you missed his voice, his face, his scent, even his stupid glasses.

you just missed sunghoon in general.

the days you stayed apart drove him crazy too. it gave him the courage to hug you tighter, foregoing his fears and anxieties as he squeezes you in his arms.

“i missed you. i think i still do, even now.” he whispers, lips brushing on the crown of your head.

sunghoon held your wrist as he walked outside your department's building to an empty bench. the pink and peach tones in the sky have disappeared, replaced by the artificial neon orange from the street lamps. the trees are starting to grow their leaves back too, but the cool breeze still nipped at your skin like leftover air from winter trying to leave.

it was cold, but not painful nor unbearable. just enough to keep you alert, aware of how warm your side is from how close sunghoon is sitting beside you. aware of how he made more room by throwing an arm behind and casually resting it on the bench’s backrest so he could cuddle closer.

it feels like whiplash, the way he can’t keep himself from playing with your fingers when a month and a half ago, his obvious choice would be to hold the ends of your shirt like touching your skin would burn him.

and it does. it still does. 

but who could blame sunghoon? he was an addicted man who got a taste of your touch and firmly decided he’d rather get simultaneously run over, stabbed multiple times, and be set on fire than spend another moment without him holding you or vice versa. kick him too while you’re at it.

he doesn’t care as long as he can feel you.

“i'm sorry.” he says again, voice as gentle as the way he’s squeezing your index fingers’ knuckles, both pairs of eyes looking at everything else but each other.

you let out a bemused laugh. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

he stays mum, tongue running across his lower lip and you catch the faint pink color tinting the shell of his ears. “i don’t. b–but… i do know that whatever i did was enough to push you away from me." he says eventually.

"i hope you know it was never intentional. i— i wouldn’t ever ever do anything to hurt you. i understand if you don’t want to tell me what... wrong i did, but i can promise that if you do, i’ll do my best not to do it again.”

his shy mumbles contrast the way he bravely pushes his fingers between yours, the now-interlocked hands resting on his thigh moving up and down as he anxiously bounces his leg.

laughter shatters the solemn atmosphere, causing his head to snap to its source, the evident frown on his face growing deeper. “are you— did you just laugh at my apology?” sunghoon asks with an incredulous tone, making you laugh even harder.

still, he can’t help his lips from quirking up at the sight.

he likes this. he likes holding your hand and hearing you laugh.

“it’s just— 'm sorry.” you pause, trying to swallow down another fit of giggles trying to burst out. “i just think it’s funny. that’s a new record.”

“what record?”

“the record of most words you’ve said to me at once. the previous one’s fourteen words, i think.”

sunghoon stares, head tilted to one side in confusion.

“think about it, sunghoon. classes and group lunches aside, you’ve never actually spoken to me properly. it’s never a conversation, it’s almost always just single words,” you let go of his hand only to lay yours on top of his and giving it a couple taps. “or stuff like this.”

“it’s like... like you have a word limit. but only when it comes to me.”

the muscle on his jaw twitches as he sees the little smile on your visage falter, the slight crack in your voice mirroring the one growing in his heart. he wants to object, to defend himself but he knows he wouldn’t have anything proper to say.

“at first i thought it was just because you were shy— but i’ve seen the way you talk to your friends, to my friends.. everyone. everyone loved talking to you, and you seemed to have fun talking with them too. i just don't get why you treat me so different."

sunghoon's hand grips on his own thigh to execute a punishment upon himself.

until it hurts, until it stings.

but he bears it because he knows it's too light compared to the hurt you've had to silently carry throughout your time with him.

"it sucks that you don’t like me enough to share your hobbies with me, sunghoon. that i have to know you through our mutual friends rather than getting to know you from what you say to me. i—” a pause. “i just gave up because i knew i’m not worth your time, or your effort to speak. that's why i stayed away.”

“Y/N… angel, it’s— it’s not like that. i swear.” he cups your cheek to make you look at him. you were still smiling, and yet he saw the sadness in your eyes. the uncertainty.

he hates himself for being the cause of it. 

“then what is it, sunghoon? why don’t you talk to me?” 

“because—” sunghoon takes a deep inhale and purses his lips before finally confessing. “because i don’t know how to.”

just as the weight is lifted from his shoulders, he feels an even heavier one get dropped back down. he knows there’s no going back. not when you’re looking at him with dissatisfaction in your eyes.

“there’s a reason why i resorted to writing letters instead, Y/N. it’s just that…  just— y–you— i’m— fuck!” exasperated, he pulls his hand away from you, using it to rub on his temples.

then one travels down and you see as his fingers starts to scratch the base of his neck, nails digging deep into his skin. 

it's one of sunghoon’s habits you’ve noted—an ugly one.

the first few times it happened, you tried to talk him out of it, told him how scared you were that he’d hurt himself, but he told you it was to help ground him when he feels frustrated.

like the stubborn man that he is, sunghoon continued to scratch harder and harder, half of his face scrunched up irritation. and true to your fear, he lets out a wince when a thin red gash on the space between his collarbones started to bleed red.

“sunghoon, stop.” you sigh, his wrists tightly trapped in your hold. when he turns his head to look at you, he looks like his world has collapsed in itself.

he's devastated. 

broken. 

“i.. i want to explain. i swear, i just—” he closes his eyes tight, hands curling into tight fists under your hold as his chest puffs from how heavy he's breathing.

you gently pry each finger open to see deep crescents on his palms. a frown is etched on your lips at the sight, and you know sunghoon’s not faring any better with the way he slumps against you, head rested on your shoulder.

“they won’t come out..” he finally says after prolonged silence, his voice thin and raspy.

"what won’t, hoon?” 

“... nothing. please let me—” his breaths are trembling, and though you don’t see it, you could feel him holding back from scratching at his neck again.

“whatever it is can wait. just.. don’t. don't do that again.” you let go of one of his hands so you could wrap your arms around his shoulder, your palm running up and down his tensed arm while he messily wipes the bleeding scar with his sleeve.

he waits until his breathing turns even before he speaks again. “are you doing anything tomorrow, angel?” 

you hum in thought. “no, why?” 

“i… missed you. it’s been so long since i last talked to you.”

“that’s weird. i clearly remember that i was the only one doing all the talking.” you reply with a nudge to his shoulder, hoping your teasing voice is enough to lighten the atmosphere.

“hey! don’t be a smart-ass. you know what i mean. it’s been.. what? like, forty one? maybe forty two days since we hung out properly.”

you lean away from his side. “you’ve been counting too?”

“too? so you also did it?” he raises a brow, the previous frown growing into a teasing smile as soon as he sees your expression, like you're glitching between the choice of fight or flight.

“would you look at that. seems like the misery over winter break was mutual.” he says, tone a little too proud for your liking, so you choose fight. you take the soft skin of his cheeks in between your fingers, pinching and stretching it with a whiny sunghoon trying to push your hand away. 

you succumb to his pained pleads to stop.

you lean in closer to soothe the skin with your thumb while laughing under your breath and sunghoon’s eyes slowly flutter close at the touch, head tilting closer to your hand as if to encourage you to continue.

“this is nice...” he whispers, raising his hand and laying it on top of yours to keep it there. 

you want to ask him what stopped him from asking for your touch because it wouldn't even take a heartbeat for you to say yes. you wanted to know why you weren’t given the privilege of seeing him this needy, this vulnerable and bare. yet you kept your mouth shut.

“the university is a place for learning, kids. not dating.”

the sweet little moment is interrupted by an older man, a security guard, pointing his plastic baton at the two of you. “and it doesn’t look like you’re in grad school either, which means you’re not allowed to loiter in university grounds.” he adds, making sunghoon stand straight, head tilted forward to give him an apologetic bow.

“we’re sorry, sir! w–we didn’t notice the time. we’ll be heading home, i promise.” his taller body instinctively stepped once to the side, covering you like shield.

the guard tilts his head, brows raised at the odd couple in front of him but his eyes soften as soon he sees the dopey smile on sunghoon’s face when his hands blindly reach out behind him in search of yours. 

“i better not catch you staying here after-hours again, alright? now go. scram!” 

sunghoon turns around and smoothly slings your bag over his other shoulder like he always used to, your hand held firmly in his as the both of you run to the exit gates giggling like children.

“girls. he just texted me. said he’ll pick me up in an hour.”

you set your phone screen-down on your vanity. jiwon’s behind you, scrolling through pinterest in search for a proper hairstyle inspo and gaeul’s lying on her stomach on top of your bed, busily typing away as she tries to cram her essay.

thank god you had the foresight to finish it yesterday because one, that meant you got to reunite with sunghoon—who apparently waited for you by the lockers that day—and two, because he was serious about hanging out today.

he double, no, triple checked that you actually wanted to go with him while he walked you to the bus stop, refusing to let go of your hand until you safely got in.

“i can’t believe that doofus finally got the courage to ask you out. we were wondering how long he’d take.” gaeul chirps up, fingers still busy tapping on her keyboard.

“finally? what do you mean finally? and what you do mean we?” your hands pause from applying your blush, head craning towards your bed to stare at your dear friend who just stares back with a straight face.

“oh, Y/N. don’t be dumb."

"i'm serious!"

"jake and jay? us? we’ve all seen it since we started hanging out. you’re the only one who gets mister congeniality all nervous and speechless. now look in the mirror before i accidentally burn your cheek.” jiwon says, carefully taking your curling wand and a section of your hair.

“it’s so cute, it’s almost pathetic. but i’m still mad at him for making you cry like that, you know. he better make it up to you today, or else i'm gonna drag his stupid ass through the school field. by his ears.” gaeul says with a face that let you know she intends to follow up on her words.

jiwon continues to hum whilst curling your hair and you try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you apply your gloss.

when you look in the mirror, you can't help but ponder how much your body knew you needed sunghoon because you’re glowing. you look well-rested despite only catching three hours of sleep because of how badly you anticipated this date.

meanwhile sunghoon, alone in his car, is practically vibrating in excitement. or nervousness. he doesn’t know, really. he thinks he stopped being able to differentiate which feeling is which since he saw you that day.

he spent those thirty minutes routinely checking his rearview mirror.

is something stuck between the gaps of his teeth? he flossed again just in case.

is his hair styled correctly? didn't prevent him from running his fingers through it a few more times.

should he put on his coat or would that look too much? fuck, what if he over dressed and you think he’s cringe? 

god, he wasn't even this jittery with his exes.

it's different because he's never actually hung out with you without the excuse of classes or other university-related events. it's different because he's never actually seen you outside the usual café you spend free periods in or under the flashing strobes of the college frat house.

it's different because it's his first date with you, and he's adamant not to make this the last.

ding.

💬 from: my angel. — hoonieeeeee ! i’m almost done. :D 

he glanced at his watch. fifteen minutes left.

enough time for him to drive once around your block, get out of the car, walk to the passenger’s side and coolly lean against it while pretending he wasn’t an inch away from having a mental breakdown a few moments earlier. 

and when sunghoon finally sees you walk out in a satin dress, he’s convinced he might actually have one. 

“hey there, big guy. you look handsome today. well—you always do. but today especially! i really like your fit!” you say, adorning that bright smile that sunghoon found so captivating.the plan to look cool immediately got crushed.

he tried to stand up straight, he did. but he ended up leaning again on his car— not to look charismatic. rather, he needed to, because he was barely feeling his knees.

his heart was racing, his breathing turned short, and he began feeling the all-too-familiar prickling sensation in his throat.

“don’t go quiet on me again, or i’ll ignore you. forever this time.”

he looks more made-up, different from the usual hoodie and jeans combo you always saw. still knee-buckling attractive, but clean. khaki trousers adorning his long legs, thin black belt around his hips and a loose blue-colored polo with thin stripes, the sleeves folded to accentuate his forearms.

there’s a small sense of satisfaction that comes to you when you realize your outfits make you look like a couple. it seems gaeul made the lucky choice of getting you to wear a baby blue today, but you’ll just thank her for that later.

“your hair’s.. n–nice.” sunghoon says, a bashful smile growing on his face. “o–oh! and... and i have this!” he opens the rear door of his car, and you hear it slam again before he turns around to present you with a bouquet of flowers. white petals with vivid yellow blooming from the center, wrapped in crumpled iridescent foil and pastel blue paper.

“daffodils. the lady at the flower shop said it symbolizes new beginnings. and— a–and i want that. a new beginning. with you.” he stammers awkwardly, nibbling on his lower lip as his hands push the bouquet towards you.

you can only coo at his words, fawning over how cute and small he looked right now despite his height. so fucking adorable, this one.

pushing past the bouquet, your arms find purchase around his torso and you squeeze him in your arms. it takes him a second to return it and you feel him release a sigh, one done out of relief and longing, before leaving a gentle kiss on your hair as he lets you go.

sunghoon opens the passenger seat of his car for you with his signature shy smile, tipping his head to the side.

“get in, angel. i have a lot of making up to do.”

he takes you driving around first, wanting to spend a little more time together with you in the privacy of his car before he shares you with other people. one hand on the wheel and the other keeping yours warm, he aimlessly drove around while narrating how he spent his winter break with his family.

his dad took him and his two honorary siblings, jay and jake, to a ski resort. his mom bought him a new camera as his holiday present, and he casually slipped in wanting to test it out next time with you.

in between those stories, sunghoon admitted that his younger sister was the one to suggest the idea of leaving you letters. the confession leaves his lips in between sheepish laughter, resulting in both your cheeks turning pink.

your heart felt full listening him be so engrossed in his stories, at one point even letting go of the steering wheel to imitate how jake wobbled in his snowboard.

sure, he still stuttered every now and then, still held himself back from cussing too much on the off chance you’d get turned off, but those are tiny details you’re determined to work through with him.

he asked about you too, and you talked about the boring train ride back to your old little town, how the place looked like it was frozen in time with the same faces, same remarks about how you look like a carbon copy of your mom. sunghoon just listens intently, a smile on his face as he steals glances of your face from time to time.

you also talked about how you spent a week trying to get dye stains off your hands when your older brother painstakingly made you dye his blonde hair to black in preparation for the new season.

sunghoon’s hand tighten around yours. blonde. 

“what about.. uh.. dates? did you go out with anyone while we weren’t in contact with each other?”

“hm. not that i recall? there were a few boys in my town, but i know they’re just messing with me.”

sunghoon’s right hand leaves yours to grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and lips turning into a straight line as he stares at the road ahead.

perhaps he’d been mistaken. maybe this is just how you get when you’ve grown closer to someone. maybe the hand holding or the comforting touches you gave him were ones you also gave to other people. maybe you had taken his invitation as a hang out rather than a date and that’s why you agreed despite having someone else waiting on you.

“the boys saw him, you know. if you’re still talking to him then… t–then what are we doing right now?”

the change in his tone isn’t lost on you, nor the hardened expression he wears. from the side of his eye, he catches the befuddled look on your face like you genuinely cannot remember the accusation being true.

“him? who? hoon, what are you talking about?”

the mere memory of his friends’ words, of that man, urges sunghoon to pull over to the side of the road so he can face you because when call him an presumptuous loser and friend-zone him, he at least wants to see your pretty face do it.

“jay said he saw you come to their game with a guy. long hair. blonde. said he was clinging on you like a damn shirt.”

when you laughed at his confession yesterday, he’ll admit he found it cute. but when you do it today, it does nothing else but make his scowl look more sour.

“is this little laughing-at-sunghoon thing a habit you’ve developed over winter break? because this isn’t funny to me.” he glowers, brows furrowing as your laughter increases in pitch, palms repeatedly slapping against your knee. 

“you—” your fingers point to him with a snicker, face looking pained as you try your darndest to hold back a laugh but it comes out anyway.sunghoon crosses his arms over his chest, thick eyebrow cocked up while gazing at you with an unamused expression.

“Y/N. i’m serious. if you have a guy back home, you can tell me. it’ll break my heart, yes, but i don’t want to take part in whatever open relationship you guys hav—”

“sunghoon, that was my brother."

“what?”

“tall guy. long hair. blonde. my brother.”

“that was... jeonghan hyung?”

“yes, dummy. jeonghan just wanted to take see at how the basketball team was keeping up now after he graduated. he’s an alumni, remember? you know he had blonde hair. you even hogged my phone all to yourself when he facetimed me that one time.” it’s your turn to have your arms folded on your chest, tilting your head with a little sass, lips curled in a smirk.

wordlessly, his body snaps to the front and he attempts to start the engine again, but you clutch his wrist just in time.

“no— you can’t just say that and ditch the conversation. you’re gonna explain yourself right now, park sunghoon.” the sound of his full name said in such a stern voice makes him squirm in his seat.

“i– i was jealous, okay? what more do you want me to say?” he grumbles, looking out the window while weakly attempting to shake your hold off of him, letting out a grunt that barely sounds like your name as you refuse to back down.

he sighs in defeat, and you can see the sharp tic of his jaw tensing up. “you weren’t talking to me. barely even looked my way. of course i was worried when my friends started talking about how you went to their practice without me. with a new guy, at that. it just.. the thought didn’t make me feel good. c–can we leave it now? this is embarrassing.”

a satisfied smile pushes your cheekbones up as you turn the keys, giving his shoulder a pat.

“drive, big guy.”

sunghoon made a reservation for the restaurant you mentioned months ago in passing. it’s nothing upscale or expensive. no wines or steaks. just the regular korean food you’re used to, but elevated just a little bit to make it taste more contemporary rather than home-made.

but you didn’t really care for that. the sole reason you wanted to go was their aesthetic: the dining area looked like the inside of a greenhouse with its sunroof ceiling, leaves and flowers hanging from wooden beams, and the lighting was just warm enough to set the ambience.

a hand on the small of your back courteously guided you towards your seat, and you’re too enamored by the interior to notice sunghoon staring at you with eyes full of admiration, his elbow resting on the table so he could comfortably continue to look at you in silence while you take in every detail of your surroundings.

true to his words, sunghoon makes up for his shortcomings.

he refills your drinks, debones the meat for you, constantly fills your plate before your food even runs out, and he apparently even paid for the meal in advance.

throughout the meal, sunghoon indulges you in short stories, letting you take on the role of the listener rather than the yapper this time around. he's telling you about penguins in antarctica and you hum, taking a sip of your drink when you notice one tiny, yet very clear difference in him today.

he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

you know he has a collection of them, and he switches things up every now and then. from thick boxy clear glasses, to the trendy ones you’ve seen models rock on social media.

your favorite pair would have to be the rimless silver ones he wore during your department’s post-exam party because they make him look unreal—like a real-life manhwa character. but he usually wore the good ol’ reliable thick black ones to lectures.

the glasses had their charm but without them, he’s a different kind of handsome. his features look sharper, especially with the warm lighting casting shadows from his tall, unobstructed nose bridge. his eyes look clearer and more expressive too.on the side of his chin, a tiny mole. and then another one.

black dots mapped out across his fair skin, all varying in size and but your eyes lock on the distinct one under his eye, and one on the side of his nose, right below where his glasses’ nose pad would sit.

no wonder you didn’t see it.

“you’re checking me out? so blatantly?” sunghoon pipes up, and you notice how the mole under his eye moves when he raises an eyebrow at you.

it makes you giggle, reaching forward to poking the round dot under his eye. “i didn’t know you had moles.” you rub on the skin with extra gentleness before leaning back. “kind of reminds me of someone i met when i was a kid.”

“hm? do tell.”

“ah, it’s nothing. there used to be this kid in my hometown who had moles like yours. god, that was years ago. i was really young—around eight or nine years old, i think. i met him at a playground where older boys were making fun of him for it.”

“let me guess. you defended him from the big bad bullies and he fell in love with you?”

“defended him, yeah. jesus, they were assholes. the memory is hazy, but i tried to comfort him by chasing him around and stuff. i tried to go back to the playground again the next day after my classes, but he never came back.” you poke at your leftovers with your fork, the distant memory making a grin dance on your lips. “but falling in love? highly doubt it. told him my name but i never got his back. all i remember's his cute moles. he might as well have been an imaginary friend.”

“i say defending a kid like that can definitely make them fall for you.”

“are you speaking from experience, mister?”

he grins. "partly."

you smile and cup your hands behind your ear, making sunghoon chuckle as he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “when i was a kid, i used to be so timid. waaaaay way worse than i was with you,” he says, and the way his eyes widen when he extends his words make you giggle.

“never talked to my classmates, always stayed at home. even my cousins who visited can’t get a word out of me. my parents tried making me do hobbies to get me out of my shell. you name it, i did it. and it helped, but only by a little. then they thought maybe going to the city might help my introversion. my little sister was growing up, too, so they started looking for a place here in seoul.”

your elbows perch on the table, chin resting above your interlocked fingers as you give him a dreamy nod. “mhm. and then?”

“and then the day before we moved, i decided i’m gonna try playing with the kids from my town. just to give it a last shot. except they teased me a lot because i wasn’t talking. they made fun of my moles, too. but then—” sunghoon pauses.

“this strange girl came shouting. i’ve never seen her before. think she went to a different elementary school, but she fought the boys off even though they were taller than her. she threatened to throw rocks at their heads and pull their hair out. and you know what? they looked scared. i think that was the first time i saw genuine fear.” he says, breaking out in a fit of giggles.

“picture this: i was half a foot taller than her but she was reprimanding me and pushing me to stand up straighter, saying i should learn how to speak up and fight back. that no one would fight my battles for me but me. since then, i started doing it—practicing my speech skills and self confidence. eventually, i stopped cowering whenever strangers approached me and i learned how to speak without my voice shaking. it's all thanks to her.”

when his monologue is over, sunghoon just grins at you like reminiscing alone was enough to comfort him.

you feel a little irritated, jealous of the way he speaks so affectionately of her memory. but at the same time, you can’t help but smile back. that's how you feel about your own little friend after all.

“so you fell in love?"

"i wouldn't be so hasty to call it love. perhaps admiration. deep admiration."

"don’t tell me you never told her your name like my old friend?”

his chuckle is mirthful as he shakes his head. “oh believe me, i did. swear on it. either she didn’t hear me, or she’s deaf because she just started calling me ‘pengoo’ instead of my name.”

pengoo.iIt’s familiar. 

you squint your eyes once more as you see the dimple on his cheek appear, the indentation becoming deeper as he flashes you a knowing smile.

pengoo, pengoo, pengoo. 

wait...

“his shirt. that was the shirt he was wearing...” you trail off in a whisper, the words barely audible as you point your hands at sunghoon, and he just smiles even wider, nodding his head slowly.

you sit there in stunned silence, hands crossed over your mouth as you stare at sunghoon whose look of pride turned into concern, nervous of the crystal clear shock on your face.

he's cautious as he offers his open palm on the table, skittish and biting his lip when you still refuse to hold his hand. he calls out your name with such gentleness that you’re transported back to that day—to the little, but still taller boy who had tears in his eyes, looking ridiculous and snotty while sporting a white shirt with a penguin patch.

the one who you affectionately called 'cookies and cream' for the specks of black splattered across his face, whose tears you wiped using your special barbie handkerchief, whose arm you scribbled your name on with your glittery purple pen that he wanted to taste because it smelled like grape juice.

though the memory isn’t as clear as it was to you years ago, he was a constant in your life. whenever you encountered people who leaned more towards timidity, it's him who appeared in the back of your mind: the nameless friend who you never saw again after his worried mom fetched him from the playground.

except he's not nameless anymore, and he's sitting right in front of you.

the salty tears burn when you try to hold them back, but they're insistent on coming out so you hang your head low and attempt to contain your sniffles.

panicked, sunghoon gently holds on your arm and guides you outside of the restaurant to a more secluded spot in the front lawn.

“Y/N,” he calls out again, pale hands gently squeezing on your hips as he bends down, trying to take a peek of your face that you insist to cover. “angel… did i make you cry again?”

you shake your head, quickly taking him in your arms, hugging him like how a mother would her child who’s come back from war. “my pengoo... my pengoo.” you choke out in between stifled sobs, stroking his head.

his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off of the ground for a moment as his face settles on the crook of your neck, nose brushing against the skin as he whispers back. “it’s me. pengoo’s here. you're okay, i'm not leaving.”

his words do nothing but make you cry harder, tears staining his shirt and fists crumpling the fabric on his back. "i can’t believe it’s you. i—”

"do you want to talk about this somewhere else, angel?” sunghoon asks in a soft voice, a tone he reserved only for you, carefully wiping your damp under eyes.

a nod is all he needs.

the travel is silent aside from the small little sniffles you do and the faint melody from the car’s speaker. your eyes blankly stare outside, the view of the buildings just as blurry as the thoughts and memories running in your head.

meanwhile, sunghoon’s trying his best to console you. his thumb lazily rubbed the skin on the back of your hand while stealing glances every now and then.

“where are we?” you croak out when the car comes to a halt.

sunghoon opens the car door, his fingers nimble as they take your seatbelt off for you. “a park near my neighborhood. in one of my favorite spots to rest my head which you need to do.”

his hand return to yours so he can pull you towards the picnic area.he sits down on a bench and you elect to sit on the wooden table itself, head craning as you take in the new environment.

the place is beautiful. quiet, serene and full of trees that made it look like a modern glitch in the middle of a forest.

“you’re not gonna kill me for knowing your secret, are you?” you sniffle, feet gently nudging the side of his thigh with a soft chuckle.

“no people, no witness. i’m sorry, Y/N. can’t have people knowing i was a loser back in the day.” he says in a gurgled voice after looking around, playfully pinching your arm which made you squeal and swat his hands away.

in the middle of play fighting, your eyes catch the swing set nearby and you remember him again.pengoo.

the flashback is so clear you could almost see a younger version of yourselves: you, pushing sunghoon on the swing, and him using his voice properly for the first time to scream ‘stop!’ when his seated body lifts too high off the ground.

you turn to sunghoon, the real, grown sunghoon, and he’s already looking up at you with one hand resting on your covered knee, giving it languid strokes with his thumb. "penny for your thoughts?"

“why, hoon? i mean.. if you knew all along, why didn’t you tell me?” you reach for his cheek and his eyes close at the contact, letting out a soft sigh of comfort.

he holds it in place, tilting his head to leave a light kiss on your palm. “i’m sorry. if you want me to be honest, i had no plans to let you know. i wasn’t even aware you remembered that day. for all i knew, i was just one of the strangers who got bright little Y/N’s help.”

“you… you grew up so well.” salty tears blur your vision again as you lean down to press your lips against his forehead.

“i couldn’t have done it without you. that was a significant event in my formative years—i seriously can’t imagine what kind of life i'd live if i hadn’t met you that day.” he stands up so he can tower over you, looking down to wipe the wetness from your eyes.

“you're my savior. my angel in every sense of the word.”

you walk around the area holding each other’s hand, going over your first meeting. the actual one. the one you had before you met again as grown ups.

he apparently tried talking his parents out of moving, and though they were surprised at his sudden enthusiasm to stay, they ultimately refused because the new house in seoul was already paid for.

he waited for you that morning, until the last second—until his parents were yelling at him from the car.

"i think i left a piece of my heart in that playground."

his search didn't stop there. night and day he bothered his parents to contact anyone they could from their previous town, to ask if anyone had a child with your name. but because his parents were like him—aloof and private—nothing really turned up.

but he was a kid determined to keep you alive and present in his mind so when he met you again that fortunate morning at the university, he immediately knew it was you without even hearing your voice.

every day he stayed by your side was spent in awe, marveling at the woman you’ve become. there wasn’t much difference, physically nor emotionally. obviously you’ve matured and grown into your features— but you still talked in the same cadence, spoke your mind with just as much enthusiasm, and still cared for people the same way you did to the young boy in the playground.

still the same girl who’d get him too flustered to talk properly.

“so jay and jake knew about me the whole time too?” you ask after arriving at the parking area and sunghoon lifts you up to sit on the hood of his car.

he nods, comfortably settling between your parted legs as his hands rest on your thighs. “of course. they were the first to know about my childhood crush after all.”

“childhood crush, huh. what about now? am i still a crush?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

sunghoon rolls his eyes, the cute little dip on his cheek becoming more evident. “you know the answer to that already, angel.”

he pulls you closer to him by your hips and your arms naturally loop around his neck like they were always meant to be there.

you don’t know whether it’s the long day you’ve had, or the insane revelation of who sunghoon has been this whole time, but your head’s starting to spin.

perhaps it’s his cologne, how it’s starting to smell is stronger and stronger as his body leans closer to yours. or maybe it’s the way you feel too warm in your own skin whenever his eyes drop to your lips, and how he his sharp fangs poke out when he bites his in return.

it’s like the air turned heavy in a matter of a few seconds and the cool breeze is doing nothing to thin out the tension in the wide empty space.

from this close, you could hear his breath get slower, thicker, eyes never leaving your mouth. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek and your breath hitches when his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

sunghoon closes the distance first. 

the kiss is sweet and gentle but filled with yearning and just a little bit of hesitation. your lips are the softest too, practically erasing any memory left over from the other irrelevant girls he’s kissed before.

and you’re so damn sweet.

despite every inch of his body wanting to have more, he does the gentlemanly thing to do and breaks the kiss, but not without biting on your plump lower lip first. when his eyes finally focus, your cheeks are flushed, tinted a rosey color like your slightly swollen lips that reflect the distant street lights.

sunghoon's grip on you is as tight— just a hair above bruising. it’s taking everything to hold on his self-control, to not take you for himself right then and there. he just had you back. he doesn’t want to scare you away by being so forward with his need and indecency.

but it’s so, so hard to behave when you’re like this.

so small and flustered, looking up at him with half lidded eyes and your lower lip trapped between your teeth. so when he feels you attempt to press your thighs close, his instinct tells him to pull you even closer to keep them open, the movement making your dress ride up, the slit on its side exposing more of your skin.

and you whine—either from his touch or from the cold air—but sunghoon doesn’t care. not anymore.

the noise you make is more than enough to snap whatever’s left of his restraint and he leans down to capture your lips again. but it isn't soft this time.

it's sure. it's hungry, handsy.

still full of yearning, but mixed with the raw, physical need to be closer to one another.

your heads tilt to opposite sides, lips weaved together while letting out small whispers of sweet nothings in between. sunghoon takes your lower lip in between his again, sucking on the flesh while his hand slip underneath the slit of your dress, palm rubbing up and down the skin of your upper thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

while his lips keep your mind fuzzy, he busies his hand by trailing it higher and higher beneath the loose fabric of your dress until you feel his thumb graze your bare hips, just a fraction of an inch below where your panties are resting, making you gasp against his mouth.

a chance opens up for sunghoon to snake his tongue past your lips, and he greedily takes it, determined to explore every possible inch. you taste like decadence. like the coffee ice cream you had for dessert combined with something celestial.

it's fucking heavenly.

you try to fight him back with your tongue, and for a while, he lets you. convinces you that you’re winning when you try to push your tongue against his. pink muscles twirl together in a dance full of lust and wanting, but sunghoon eventually grows tired of it and he gives your thigh a reprimanding squeeze, making you moan again, providing him the perfect opportunity to take over the messy liplock.

you take the small bit of revenge you can by threading your fingers through the jet black locks on the back of his head, tugging on it once, twice, until he’s growling your name against your open mouth.

his lips wrap around yours, your tongue graze on the sharp end of his canines, his fingers wander near the plump of your ass, and you kiss until both of you are literally seeing stars.

you part, heaving oxygen back in your deprived lungs and your foreheads meet with eyes still in steady contact as your heavy breathing mingles.

sunghoon’s hands never leave your thigh or your cheek. rather, he gives them a final brush with his thumb before stealing a quick peck, damp lips brushing against your skin until it reaches your jaw, giving the spot a kiss as well.

“perv.” you say, raising your thigh a little just so you could push sunghoon’s hand away. “first kiss and you’re already feeling me up?”

“okay, Y/N. let’s pretend your eyes weren’t on my arms the entire time i was driving. i know you like how veiny they look.” he replies after leaning back, the same canines that were grazing on your tongue a while ago now in full display as he flashes you a cocky grin.

“i.." you clear your thraot. "you noticed that?”

“i did. i notice a lot of things about you.”

“like what?”

he's quiet for a moment. “like how you’re starting to shiver,” his muscular arms lift you up and safely bring you back down to the ground. “i think it’s time to get you home, angel.”

a cacophony of cheers erupt in your classroom as the announcement blares from the speaker. an early dismissal due to seniors needing several classrooms to prepare for something you didn’t care enough to pay attention to. 

all you knew was you needed to get out as soon as possible so you can see sunghoon again. 

from: pengoo. 🐧— heard the announcement yet? :)  to: pengoo. 🐧 — yep!! i'll just grab a few things from my locker and head there. see u! ♡ from: pengoo. 🐧 — see you, angel. :) 

the two of you made the university garden your official hang-out spot. specifically the one near the big ginkgo tree where the both of you have spent hours under either people-watching, eating or reviewing.

and stealing kisses from each other, of course.

so when sunghoon asked to meet you there this morning, the answer was an automatic yes.

just as you sit down on the picnic mat, you see him appear from behind a tall shrub, bag slung over his shoulder and a big plastic bag hanging from his hand.

“did i take too long? i'm sorry, angel. it was lunch rush and there was a line in the restaurant and jake was arguing with a girl and—”

“hoon. i just got here. it’s okay.” you say, chuckling at his never-changing nervous demeanor.

he leans forward to give your lips a chaste peck, an apology leaving his lips again before he busies himself by taking your lunch out of the plastic and making sure your bottle is uncapped and your utensils are cleaned before tending to his own food.

a fond smile creeps on your lips as watch him try to talk about his morning in between bites. he really has improved since that date.

gone is the boy who shied away from your touches, and is replaced by one who openly asks for a hug and whines when he doesn’t feel your hands on his whenever you walk together.

his hand is always in yours when he drives both of you to school (despite the fact that he has to drive 20 minutes earlier to do so.) his arm consistently curled around your shoulder or your waist when you walk to class together. you always tease him for it too, but he just takes it with a smile because he knows it’s true.

he’s whipped for you.

after you eat and clean up, you offer to keep the picnic mat in your locker but sunghoon mentions he wants to stay for a bit more, and you appease him, letting him lie down with his head comfortably laying on your plush thighs while you lean back, palms pressed on the mat to support yourself.

silence envelops the both of you, but it doesn’t make your head run through a million thoughts anymore. it isn’t tense this time.

your eyes wander to him again—your not-quite-boyfriend boyfriend.

your finger pokes at the mole at the side of his nose out of habit, the glass beads in your bracelet reflecting bright spots on his smooth skin. you go from one mole to the next, moving it down the sharp bridge of his nose, then to his jaw, and you giggle upon feeling sunghoon shiver under your featherlight touch.

you move your middle finger down his neck, choosing to poke at the peak of his adam’s apple before noticing the pink lines on his neck.

again?

before you can even point it out, sunghoon’s voice cuts through the silence. “i feel like pengoo whenever i’m with you.”

you sit up properly. “pengoo?”

he gives you a nod and you stare, giving him a look that spells ‘i don’t know what you mean’, making him smile.

“whenever you’re around… it’s like i become that kid again. the one that can’t speak or think properly. i don’t know, it’s weird. the same girl that gave me the confidence to talk being the same one i can’t be around without making a fool of myself? i can’t even give you a proper compliment for gods' sake.”

that’s true. he always compliments your outfits, or your accessories, or compliments you through implications. things like “you’re making everyone stare.” or “that cute puppy looks just like you.” but nothing that’s actually a straight forward compliment.

you never had the courage to bring it up to him, partly because you’re afraid he might find you too needy, but also because deep down, you know the words he did say already took a lot of courage from him.

“i don’t.. really mind. not that much.”

“don’t lie to me, angel.”

“i’m serious!” you laugh, fingers forcibly pushing the edges of his frowned lips upward. “i do have a question though."

“what is it?”

your fingers ghost over the exposed skin on the base of his neck, fingers gently pressing on the spot between his clavicles, tracing over the faint red scratches over it. "have you been scratching your neck again? why do you do it when you know i don’t like it?”

“angel… i just—” sunghoon sighs softly, reaching for your hand. “i get frustrated.”

you frown. “you always say that. but there has to be a way for you to release your frustrations without scratching? the scar from last time isn’t even healed yet.”

below you, sunghoon releases a soft sigh and raises a hand to poke at the same spot on your neck. “what is this?” he asks.

“my neck…?” you reply cluelessly, to which he just shakes his head, poking at the skin again, and you flinch from the ticklishness of his touch. "what's inside here?"

“my throat?”

he finally nods, pointing to his own. “they get stuck here,” he opens his mouth, tongue sticking out and points to it as well. “and here.”

“they? hoon, you have to stop talking in riddles. you know i’m stupid.”

sunghoon runs a hand over his face and sits up, moving behind you until you're settled between his legs, back comfortably leaned against his firm chest.

“okay. i’m doing this.” he whispers mostly to himself before squeezing you in his arms as if to reassure himself. “don’t interrupt me, okay? because if i don’t get this out completely, i might not be able to say it at all.”

you press your palms on the arms wrapped around your waist and nod.

“you see those those?” sunghoon asks, and your eyes follow the direction of his finger pointing at the different florae.

the green leaves of the bushes look even brighter next to different bundles of spring-born tulips: colors of white, red and vibrant yellow scattered throughout the garden.

you're unsure of where this conversation is headed, but nod anyway.

“it’s like i have that inside me.aa garden. of words.” he says slowly, taking pauses between every words. “at least that’s what i started telling myself after i left years ago to aid me in my quietness, and it helped. a lot. i realized that i don’t really have to give people anything of value, and it made talking easier. if i don’t like someone, i can give them dead leaves or even weeds. but if i do, i can give them grass or the most common roses and it’ll do. maybe even an arrangement of better flowers for the people i want to keep in my life.”

he stays quiet for a beat, and you can feel his nose poke on your skin as his lips press on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “but you… you know you mean a lot to me, right?”

you reply with a hum, eyes glued to the leaves and petals swaying in the wind.

“i'm slow to speak because i take so long walking through the garden. because it's so difficult to choose what to give to you. because i want to pick and gather only the prettiest flowers—the prettiest, kindest words. for you. i want them to be neatly arranged and looking just as beautiful as the way you appear to me. because you’re precious to me... and you deserve nothing less.”

the words tug on your heartstrings in a way you’ve never felt before. to be adored and admired so much to the point of speechlessness wasn’t something you’ve ever experienced, or frankly, ever expected.

so when he speaks of you in such a way, it overwhelms your chest with a sense of safety— of knowing your heart is safe with him.and the way he says it too: voice low, shaky, and starkly different from the composed sunghoon you usually hear in classes.

it's then that you realize the apprehension you saw you wasn't done out of malice. sunghoon only did it because he wanted to protect something dear to him.

he shifts and pulls his hands away from your waist only to sit cross legged in front of you. it seems like you aren’t the only one feeling vulnerable because when you see him, he looks just as flustered.

his cheeks are rosy and his ears are in an even deeper shade, almost matching the petals floating above the grass.

“don’t laugh at me for this, okay?” a defeated chuckle leaves his lips and he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours before looking you in the eye. "jake and jay know about how much i've been rehearsing."

"hm?"

“i’ve dreamt of meeting you again, you know? so when i saw you on our first day, i told myself that i’ll do it. i’ll show you my gratitude. i’ll show you i’ve changed. that i've grown. that i’m not the sickly and shy kid in the park anymore," sunghoon pauses. “so every night in front of my mirror, i rehearse the different ways i could talk to you— and it worked. it always goes smoothly,”

“but i’ll see you again in the morning and it’s like the hours i spent practicing rush out the window— because.. b–because i’ll hear your voice, and you’ll laugh, and you'll smile. and you’ll look at me the way you are right now… and it’s like all the bouquet of flowers get stuck here.” sunghoon explains, finger accusatorily pointing to the still-healing scar on the skin above his throat.

“it feels like their thorns are piercing me from the inside, angel. it sucks and it’s frustrating. and the only way to relieve it is to scratch, but they won’t come out even if i do. and then i’ll beat myself up over it, go home, and the cycle will repeat itself. and—you’re doing that smile again. s–stop it!” he stammers, finger now angrily pointed to you.

you chuckle because you don’t even know what kind of smile he means and sunghoon just sighs, reaching for his neck again, palm over his throat like he’s trying to relieve the itch without scratching.

he looks annoyed and irritated, nose scrunched up as he clears his throat one, two times.

“i— i love you, Y/N.”

the three words he’s been itching to confess for months, now breaking free from the tip of his tongue.

both of you freeze in your spots.you can’t believe the words he just said, and he looks like can’t believe it either.

“i love you.” sunghoon repeats, gnawing on the flesh on the inside of his lip while his hands squeeze on the base of his neck as if physically forcing the words out. “i think you’re so cool. and you’re pretty. but even that isn’t enough. beautiful is the closest i can get, but i hope you get what i mean a–and… fuck, i should’ve just written a letter.”

an intense battle of eye contact ensues, his free hand curled tightly atop his lap as he takes a deep breath in.

“i— i've admired you since i was a clueless kid in the playground. liked you s–since you talked to me on our first day. and i’ve loved you since our first kiss, but i was too much of a pussy to say it then because i didn’t want you to think i only loved you because of it.”

he grunts, knuckles pressing on his temple. “and i’m sorry that i don’t talk much because every time i do, it just makes you cry and i don’t want to see you crying because it breaks my heart too—”

the speed at which his words come out begins to pick up, making it barely understandable so you call out his name in an attempt to slow him down but he just looks at you with determination in his eyes.

“no! listen to me. i know i’ve had my moments, and i’ll probably keep having them, but i want you to know that i love you. sincerely. you’re precious to me, Y/N. and i don’t want you to doubt what i feel any longer so believe me when i say i’m trying my best right now, even though i’m babbling.”

he pauses just to take another inhale, and when he finally speaks again, both his voice and his eyes turn softer. so soft you can't hear his words.

"i'm sorry, hoon. i didn't quite catch that."

"Y/N. will you please be my girlfriend? you can say no, o–of course. i'm just throwing the idea out there but if you think i haven't proved myself yet then i'll be fine just waiting, i swear i c—”

you swallow the rest of his words in your mouth as you press your lips against his, eyes closed while you grab sunghoon’s hand by his wrist and guide it to your nape.

he lets out a meek sound of surprise but you can immediately feel him melt into you, fingers tightly holding on the neckline of your shirt as his soft, pillow-soft lips locked against yours in a slow but passionate kiss.

when you pull away, sunghoon’s eyes are glassy and you can see love pouring out from the way the beautiful chocolate brown orbs gaze into yours.

you leave a gentle peck on the mole under his eye—a thing you’ve picked up after multiple make out sessions—and lean back to appreciate the full view of a flustered sunghoon.

“i love you too,” you finally reply with an elated smile. “and i'd love to be your girlfriend.”

if humans had the chance to have heart-shaped eyes, you’re convinced sunghoon would have it at this moment.

his cheekbones are pushed all the way up, pearly whites flashed at you before he tackles you down into the picnic mat with a tight bear hug making you giggle loudly as he rolls the both of you from side to side while pressing kisses all over your face.

“hoon!” you squeal while wriggling in his hold and he relents, standing up to run in a wide circle around the garden, arms spread out wide while yelling.

“she said yes! Y/N’s mine! my girlfriend!”

thankfully, the few people meters away only flash the two of you confused looks before going about their business.

"can't believe you're my girlfriend now." he giggles breathlessly as he ends his run in front of you, only to wrap his arms around your figure once more, lifting you off the ground and spinning in place while professing his love at the top of his lungs.

it’s dizzying to be his, literally and figuratively, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

you're his, and he's yours.

you love park sunghoon.

from the thorns, to the long stems and rough leaves, up until the prettiest petals that are finally able to leave his soft lips.

but sunghoon is determined to spend the rest of life growing his garden until he can find the words that'll convince you that he loves you more.

BONUS SCENE:

"let me get this straight. you're telling me that you got jealous of me.. so you made my little Y/N cry three times?" jeonghan's voice is low, face void of any emotion as his arms cross over his chest across the both of you.

"technically it's seven, if we count the times i cried over winter break too." you mumble, meekly raising seven fingers.

sunghoon turn to you with wide eyes in disbelief. why would you throw your boyfriend under the bus? during his first time personally meeting your brother, no less.

"Y/N, what the hell?"

jeonghan's hand slammed on the table, making the both of you flinch. "don't look at her. look at me. i was asking you a question, and now you're going to explain."

he thought jeonghan was cool—and he still does—but he reminded sunghoon so much of you whenever you get stern, and it's like deja vu of the time you got serious with him during your first date.

"no, i— it wasn't necessarily because of that, hyung. i just so happen to have made her cry after i got jealous so it isn't really a cause-and-effect scenario—"

"love, you're getting a little off track..."

"he said he wanted me to explain—"

your brother's giggles echo throughout your family home's dining area and he shakes his head, leaning over to tap on sunghoon's shoulder. "nah, man. i'm just fucking with you. but you knew i had blonde hair so you really should've known better."

"ah.. y–yes, sir! i mean hyung! sir— i.. i mean... yeah." sunghoon sighs in defeat, head hanging low in an apologetic bow while jeonghan just nodded in acknowledgement.

"but if you make my little Y/N cry again, i'll make sure you really won't be able to use that throat of your ever again, got it?" the way your brother's able to make those words sound sweet make even your heart race, your hand finding sunghoon's underneath the table to give it comforting pats.

"and you're sleeping in my room. no nicknames or pda as long as you're under the yoon household."

your boyfriend's eyes travel between you and your brother and he only grips your hand, nodding.

he can't wait to go back to seoul.

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀aaaaaaaaaaa!! it's finally done. i'm gonna cry. ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა i saw the video of i-lander sunghoon dancing to pretty u again and i just had to. if you can't already tell, this is heavily inspired by the song, especially the confession part! i'm thinking of writing shorter drabbles of other members so just shoot me an ask if you have an idea. < 3

⌗ taglist — @neozon3nha @zerocoded @firstclassjaylee @yuyita-rosier @chiiyuuvv

© hoonstrology 2025. please don't translate, plagiarize, steal, or repost any of my works.

[sunghoon-my-dear]

That's o cute

[tobiosbbyghorl]

Appa, Where Do Babies Come From?

Pairing: Husband!Sunghoon x Reader

part of my mini series Appa, Always

from this drabble!

It starts innocently enough.

You’re lounging on the couch with your legs stretched out, a bowl of sliced apples balanced on your baby bump. Sunghoon is on the floor beside your daughter, assembling yet another magnetic block castle (which she insists needs a “moat for dragons”).

Everything is peaceful. Your Spotify playlist is on. There’s a soft breeze from the open window. Baby boy is kicking lightly against your ribs.

And then—

She strikes.

“Appa,” she says, all wide eyes and innocent curiosity. “Where do babies come from?”

Sunghoon freezes mid-brick. His body stiffens like someone just hit pause on him.

You blink.

Oh no.

She repeats it with even more confidence. “Where do babies come from?”

“Uh—” Sunghoon’s voice cracks. “Um. W-What made you ask that, sweetheart?”

She shrugs, poking her baby doll. “Teacher said babies come from love and science. Is that true? Did you make baby brother with science? Like a robot?”

You choke on your apple.

Sunghoon turns to you, eyes wide. Do something.

You gesture for him to continue, totally betraying him with your amusement.

“Well… um,” he starts, clearly malfunctioning, “It’s not exactly robots. It’s more like… mommy and appa loved each other very, very, very much…”

She tilts her head. “So when you hug Mommy, a baby comes out?”

Sunghoon turns red. Physically red.

“No! I mean—yes! I mean—hugging helps but—no!!” He looks at you, absolutely betrayed. “Babe, help me out.”

You’re dying. But you keep a straight face. “This is your moment. I believe in you.”

Sunghoon sighs and turns back to her. “Okay. So… babies grow in mommy’s tummy, right?”

“Yeah. That’s where baby brother is.”

“Right. So when two people love each other and they want to have a baby, sometimes… a tiny seed from Appa and a tiny egg from Mommy come together—like magic—and they grow into a baby inside Mommy.”

She blinks. “You put a seed inside Mommy?”

Sunghoon hesitates.

“…Yes,” he says, slowly. “With love.”

She frowns. “Is it like planting tomatoes?”

You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

“Kinda,” Sunghoon says weakly. “But instead of a garden, the baby grows inside Mommy’s belly.”

“Ohhh.” She nods. “Okay. So baby brother is a love tomato.”

You lose it.

Sunghoon glares at you. “This is your child.”

“No, you said seed,” you wheeze.

“She said robot first!”

Their daughter stands proudly now, holding her doll up like Simba. “I’m gonna tell teacher that my brother is a tomato and Appa planted him with love!”

Sunghoon’s soul visibly leaves his body.

That night, while you’re brushing your teeth, you find him lying in bed with his arms spread wide, staring at the ceiling in silence.

“She called him a love tomato,” he murmurs.

You crawl into bed beside him, still laughing.

“She’s going to tell her class that I plant tomatoes in you.”

You stroke his hair gently. “At least you didn’t say stork.”

“She asked if hugging made babies. I panicked.”

“You did great, Hoon.”

He turns to look at you, utterly defeated but soft-eyed. “Do you think we’ll survive when she turns ten?”

“No.”

He groans and pulls a pillow over his face.

©️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved 2025

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona-huh @ramenoil

[sunghoon-my-dear]

I really love this one

[moonriizing]

A Christmas Proposal | p.sh (18+)

You told one tiny lie about being engaged to Sunghoon. Now you’re spending Christmas with his entire family—sharing intimate spaces, dated traditions, and an alarming amount of chemistry. Faking it should be a walk in the park, except Sunghoon is playing the perfect boyfriend a little too well, and it’s throwing you off your game.

Genre: fake dating, hallmark xmas, smut Pairing: ENHYPEN Park Sunghoon x female reader Warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, lying, fake dating, mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), MDNI Notes: 22k words. I GOT CARRIED AWAY. I was watching The Proposal with my husband when this plot came to me, sooo, guess I should say I took some inspo from that classic. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE! I hope y'all like this one <3 Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor claim they would ever in real life behave the way they were portrayed in this fic.

You were halfway through a phone call when the elevator doors opened, one hand clutching your handbag as you rattled off reminders about deadlines, inventory counts, and the very real need to restock supplies before the holiday rush. 

“Yes, by next week,” you said, already walking. “No, I don’t care if it’s ‘usually fine,’ I want the warehouse well-stocked and ready—”

You stepped onto the floor and kept moving, heels clicking, bag swinging. You didn’t notice the way the floor fell quiet the moment you stepped in. People scrambled back to their desks, suddenly invested in their screens, shuffling papers that did not need shuffling, answering phones that were not ringing. A few heads ducked. A few shoulders squared. No one made eye contact with the icy, headstrong, amazonian boss who had clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

You.

Still mid-call, you marched straight toward your office, listening to your warehouse officer explain that the warehouse was well-stocked and ready for the holiday rush and that everything would be fine. “I’m not asking for some words of affirmation, Joe. Show me that this confidence is not unfounded. I need updated numbers by lunchtime.”

It wasn’t until you pushed open the glass door that you finally ended the call, pinching the bridge of your nose for half a second before refocusing.

“Morning!” Becca said brightly, already there, already holding out your iced coffee like an offering.

You took it without slowing down. She fell into step beside you, launching into your schedule like she always did—meetings, contracts, things that needed signing before lunch, and ones that could wait until after. You dropped into your chair, skimmed the first page of the file she handed you. 

You were halfway through skimming the file when you noticed something in your periphery. You looked up and saw that there was a man standing just behind Becca. Tall. Good-looking. Broad-shouldered. Hands in his pockets. He was staring around your office like he had time to admire the view, eyes flicking over the shelves, the windows, the framed awards.

For a second, you wondered if you’d forgotten you were supposed to have a meeting with some model for your brand’s campaign.

You frowned. “Who’s your friend, Becca?”

“Oh—right! Sorry. This is—” She paused, then quickly nudged the man with her elbow

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said, smiling at you before Becca could finish. He gave a lazy little wave. “The intern.”

You blinked. The intern. He said it like this was a college club meeting. Or orientation. Or literally anywhere but here, where interns usually tried desperately not to be noticed. You stared at him. Then back at Becca. “Why is the intern in my office?”

Becca cleared her throat. “He’s the temp I told you about. He’ll be covering for me while I’m on maternity leave. Assisting you directly.”

You glanced back at him, unimpressed. “Is he ready for that?” you asked Becca.

“Yes. I walked him through everything,” she said quickly. “He’s picked it up really fast.”

 “So he knows this isn’t a light workload? Long hours, hectic schedules, all that?”

Before you could respond, Sunghoon leaned forward slightly. “You can ask me, you know,” he said. “I’m right here.”

The room went very still.

You stared at him, more surprised than offended. Most interns shrank under eye contact. Apologized. Overexplained. This one had the audacity to interrupt you, like he wasn’t face-to-face with the person everyone else avoided before coffee. For a second, you couldn’t tell if he was clueless or if he just didn’t scare easily.

You didn’t like either option. “I won’t be needing you yet,” you said flatly. “You can go.”

Sunghoon didn’t argue. He simply nodded once, hands dropping from his pockets as he turned toward the door. “Alright.”

And then he left. The door clicked shut behind him. You and Becca stared at it for a moment.

You exhaled through your nose and picked up your pen. “What kind of temp did you get me?”

“He’s very competent. Just a little tactless at times. And he was once…” She hesitated. “…reported to HR for insubordination.”

“Insubordination?”

“Yeah, he was. But it was all a misunderstanding.” She paused for a second and then added, “Apparently, the way he talks pissed some people off. Which was why I thought he’d be perfect for this role.”

You slowly looked up from your paperwork. “What’s that supposed to mean?

Becca grimaced, then covered her mouth. “Okay. That—yeah. That was supposed to be an inside thought.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you went back to signing. “You’ve been working for me too long.”

She cleared her throat, tapping her tablet like she needed something to do with her hands. “Mr. Zhou just stepped into the lobby. Should we… um… go wait for him in the conference room?” she asked, already smiling.

“Fine,” you said, signing your name a little harder on the last paperwork. “But we’re unpacking that later.”

You were puzzled to see Sunghoon waiting by the car as soon as you stepped out of your office at noon. He looked out of place there, standing in a crisp set of suit and coat, looking like he was shooting an ad for Ralph Lauren. You were realizing in real time that he was unnecessarily too good-looking and too well-dressed to be someone’s errand boy.

He was holding Becca’s work tablet and the leather briefcase she’d usually brought to meetings.

“Where’s Becca?” you asked, not slowing down as you watched him open the car door for you.

“She’s gone,” he said, watching you settle onto the backseat. “Told me my secretary duties start today.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

Sunghoon blinked, confused. “Oh, you didn’t know? I thought she discussed this with you beforehand.”

You sighed, waved him off, and leaned back on the seat. As Sunghoon closed the door and rounded the car, you took your phone out and typed out a message to Becca.

You: I’m docking your pay.

Sunghoon took the driver’s seat without ceremony, adjusted the mirror, and pulled into traffic. 

“Read the documents carefully,” you said without looking up. “And pay attention during the meeting.”

“I will,” he said. “To both.”

The car ride was quiet. You reviewed the agenda on your tablet while the city slid past the windows, aware of him in your periphery—too relaxed, but not sloppy. 

Your phone rang not even ten minutes into the ride and you sighed when you saw the caller ID. But answered anyway. “Hi, Grandma.”

“I just wanna remind you that you have a date this evening,” she said immediately. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

“No,” you replied. “I’m working.”

“You said that last week.”

“I was working last week too. I’m busy, Grandma. Right now, I’m heading out for a lunch meeting with suppliers.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re always working. You can’t keep postponing your life like this. Why do you always put that damn company first?”

You pressed your lips together. “Grandma, this was your company. You put me here.”

“Excuses. When will you have a husband?” she shot back. “Or children? I’m old and dying. Do you think time is gonna wait for me? I just want to see you settle down and be happy. Is that too much to ask?”

You looked out the window. “You’re healthy. You’re strong. You’re not going anywhere.”

You heard her exhale sharply on the other line, clearly annoyed now. “If you don’t come tonight, I’ll erase your name from my will. You won’t get a single penny from me.”

“You’ve been saying that for years,” you said evenly. “Need I remind you that you only have one living relative and it’s me?”

She huffed. “Don’t test me. I might just donate my whole fortune to charity. You must go this time. I swear this one is better than the previous dates. His name is Pa—”

“I love you,” you said, cutting her off. “I’ll call you later.”

You ended the call before she could respond.

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the soft click of the turn signal. You slipped your phone back into your bag and leaned farther into the seat, already compartmentalizing the conversation the way you always did.

You caught movement in the rearview mirror. Sunghoon was looking at you. “Persistent grandma?” he asked when your gazes met.

You sighed, unimpressed. “Eyes on the road.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, tone mild enough to be irritating.

You let the silence stretch after that, your attention returning to the tablet in your hands. You scrolled through the agenda, noting the points you wanted addressed, the concessions you were willing to make, and the ones you absolutely were not. Sunghoon drove without comment, smooth and calm, like he wasn’t ferrying someone who could fire him on a whim.

You glanced up again, studying his reflection this time with intention. The angle of his jaw. The familiarity you hadn’t been able to put a finger on ever since you saw his face.

“Have we met before?” you asked.

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “We went to the same university. And met once at a freshman party.”

That checked out. You’d seen enough of him around campus for his face to register, even now. You hummed, “Knew you looked familiar. You have an unforgettable face.”

That slipped out unintentionally, making you pause. You considered taking it back, but you ultimately just decided to roll with it. You cleared your throat. “I mean—well… Have you seen yourself?”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, glancing briefly at you. “I didn’t catch that.”

But the slight smirk on his lips told you that was a lie. You rolled your eyes, then watched him for another second. “If we went to uni at the same time,” you asked, “how are you still interning? At this age?”

He grinned. “Are you discriminating?"

“I’m just asking.”

“As my boss or as someone who knew me from college?”

You exhaled through your nose, realizing now that Becca wasn’t exaggerating when she said Sunghoon can be annoying for some. “Forget it,” you said.

He just smiled, focusing on driving. But a few moments later, he said, “I just got out of a slave contract with my previous employer.”

You looked up. “I assume that’s an exaggeration.”

“It could be,” he replied, shrugging.

You didn’t comment. Some jobs did feel like that. You knew it, even if you’d never experienced it firsthand. You’d never been employed under someone, except when you interned for your Grandma, but even that was hardly employment. You’d always been your own boss.

The car slowed as the restaurant came into view. Sunghoon found a parking space easily. “We’re here,” he said as soon as the engine stopped.

You straightened, already stepping out of the vehicle. “They’re gonna give us the revised version of the contract from last time. Remember to go over it very, very carefully.”

“Got it,” he replied, gathering his things and fixing his coat as he stepped out of the car.

You paused, looked at him once with furrowed brows, then said, “Lose the coat.”

He blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just lose it,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “You’re gonna make these people think I brought a date to this meeting.”

The realization hit him a second later. “Oh.”

His ears turned red almost immediately, the color creeping up fast enough that it caught you off guard. He looked away, cleared his throat, and shrugged out of the coat with noticeably less confidence than he’d had five seconds ago.

“Right,” he said. “Okay.”

You didn’t respond. You were already walking.

He followed a step behind. You noticed the way he kept tugging at his sleeves, the way his shoulders squared like he was suddenly conscious about his posture. It didn’t slow him down, but it made him seem less casual and more shy.

You filed that thought in the far back of your mind and pushed open the restaurant door.

Sunghoon settled into his role faster than you’d anticipated. He learned your schedule within days, memorizing the gaps between meetings, the calls you always took walking, the ones you preferred, seated and uninterrupted. By the first week, he stopped asking what you needed and started having it ready before you spoke. Coffee appeared when you’d skipped breakfast. Documents were summarized and tabbed—never highlighted, because you hated highlights.

He remembered dates without reminders. Flagged clauses you would’ve circled anyway. Anticipated questions before clients finished asking them. He spoke only when necessary in meetings, and when he did, it was concise enough that no one dared interrupt him. 

“Your two o’clock wanted to move to three,” he said one morning, falling into step beside you as you walked down the hall. “Mr. Lee begged. Said something about traffic and divine intervention.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That divine intervention doesn’t outrank your calendar.”

You didn’t break stride. “Good.”

By the end of the second week, you—and everyone around you—had realized that you now have a second Becca, a more merciless one at that. People stopped going to you first. They went to Sunghoon. He filtered what mattered and killed what didn’t. When he brought you something, it was because it deserved your time. He filtered your calls ruthlessly. If something reached you, it mattered. If it didn’t, it never existed. People learned quickly that arguing with him was pointless; if Sunghoon said you were unavailable, then you were.

Occasionally, he tested his boundaries. Not in ways that interfered with work, but in tone.

“Do you always look like this when you’re thinking?” he asked once, watching you review a document.

You didn’t look up. “Like what.”

“Like you’re about to ruin someone’s life.”

You slid the folder toward him. “Page twelve.”

He glanced down, eyes scanning. “Ah,” he said. “There it is. I knew something was odd with this.”

In meetings, he was quiet, efficient, present without being intrusive. He passed notes when necessary, caught errors before they reached the table, and never spoke unless spoken to or unless you were about to walk into something avoidable.

“Clause eighteen,” he murmured once, sliding you a note.

You corrected the issue mid-sentence and moved on. Afterward, in the elevator, you said, “Good catch.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “Was that praise?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he said, grinning. “But I will cherish it.”

By the third week, he stopped flinching when you corrected him. By the fourth, he started correcting other people before you had to. He learned quickly what earned silence versus what earned a look. Silence meant he was safe. The look meant he had exactly one more word before his internship became a cautionary tale.

He respected that. Mostly.

“So,” he said once, handing you a folder, “do you want the bad news first or the worse news?”

You took the folder. “If you ever phrase it like that again, you’re fired.”

“Noted,” he said calmly. “Then I’ll just say this contract is trash.”

You looked up slowly. He met your gaze without flinching. “Respectfully.”

You skimmed the page. Then the next. Then the clause he’d marked with a single tab. It was, in fact, trash.

You closed the folder. “Schedule a call.”

“I already did.”

He had an irritating habit of leaning where he wasn’t supposed to. Doorframes. Desks. The back of chairs that did not belong to him. He never slouched in meetings, never interrupted, but outside of them, he carried himself like he wasn’t intimidated by anyone in the building.

Including you. Especially you.

“Do you actually read all of these,” he asked once, eyeing the stack of reports on your desk.

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

He paused. “I guess you’re not like those other nepo babies who—um… nevermind.”

You lifted your pen. “Finish that sentence, Secretary Park.”

“Nope,” he said, chuckling nervously and retreating a step. “I’m quite attached to my paycheck, you see.”

You rolled your eyes, but Sunghoon kept his grin. “When will you call me by my first name?”

Your brows furrowed. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, there’s Becca. You address her not only by her first name but by her nickname.”

You tutted, shaking your head and deciding to ignore his question entirely. “Go. I don’t need you right now,” you said, waving him away. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he chimed, walking away. You returned to your screen. You didn’t fire him.

By the end of the month, Sunghoon no longer felt like a temporary replacement to your intuitive and reliable Becca. He felt like his own fixture. An irritating, unnecessarily good-looking, deeply unserious, but very competent fixture.

“Is that Prada?” you asked, just as Sunghoon turned the engine off. 

He glanced back at you, then at his coat. “I think so? I got this as a gift for my birthday.”

You chuckled, reaching for the door. “Your clothes are too expensive for an intern.”

You stepped out of the car, eyes blinking at the blinding building right in front of you. Sunghoon fell into step beside you not 30 seconds later, and you noticed that he’d taken off his coat.

“You should keep it on,” you said.

He tilted his head. “But wouldn’t it make them think you brought a date to the meeting?”

You shrugged. “Maybe, but these people are worth impressing. I’m heading inside first. You go get your coat and make yourself look good.”

You were inside the building for less than two minutes when you ran into someone that made your eyes twitch. He called your name from across the lobby, his voice ringing out annoyingly.

“Is that you?” he asked when he approached you. “Well, damn. It is you.”

“Carlo,” you acknowledged, offering a curt smile.

“Oh, so you remember me,” he grinned, his eyes roving from your head to your foot, then back up to your face again, not without pausing briefly on your chest. “It’s been a while, huh?”

You nodded once, polite and brief, already angling your body toward the other direction. “It has. If you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to a meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always busy,” he said, waving it off. “But who isn’t?” he added, laughing out loud.

He then launched into a recap of his life since the last time you’d seen him—his job, his connections, the people he knew, the Dubai prince he was chummy with, the places he’d been. It was all very impressive, apparently. You tried to interject twice. Both attempts failed. He spoke over you like it was muscle memory.

You remembered, dimly, the disastrous blind date your Grandmother had set you up on last year. Apparently Carlo was a friend’s son who was intelligent and sweet. You gave it a chance because you’d run out of excuses to decline. But Carlo was downright obnoxious. He was preposterous, talked only about himself, and after the date, he told every mutual acquaintance you both had that you were the reason why it never worked out after the first date—as if he didn’t blow up your phone asking for another chance after you refused to go on another date with him. He’d framed your refusal like a misunderstanding, and acted like persistence was a charm.

“So anyway,” he said, finally pausing just long enough to inhale, “I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner sometime. Catch up properly.”

You spotted Sunghoon a few steps away. “There you are, my love,” you called out with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

Sunghoon looked up at the sound of your voice, just as you crossed the distance and slipped your arm around his without asking, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. For a moment, you thought he might ask what was happening. But he looked at you and at the puzzled Carlo just nearby and seemed to understand the situation right away.

“Sorry,” you said, turning back to Carlo with an apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “What were you saying?”

Carlo took a step back, posture stiffening, his grin faltering as his eyes moved from Sunghoon’s face to his tailored clothes, then back to you. Whatever confidence he’d walked into the lobby with seemed to deflate all at once.

“Oh, by the way,” you began, turning to Sunghoon. “Have you met Carlo? He’s in the export business. And the son of Grandmama’s friend.”

Sunghoon didn’t miss a beat. He offered his hand. “Sunghoon,” he said pleasantly.

Carlo stared, shaking his hand. You smiled and said, “My fiancee.”

“Oh,” Carlo said. “Fiancée.”

“Yes,” you replied simply. You could already imagine how this little lie would spread among your mutual acquaintances and business spaces you shared with Carlo, given how loose-lipped he was. But all you could care about right now was getting him to leave you alone.

“Well—uh,” Carlo said, shaking Sunghoon’s hand a little too quickly. “Nice to meet you. You two look… great.” He stepped back, already glancing at his phone. “I should get going. Busy day. You know how it is.”

You watched him retreat without comment, hurrying through the lobby until he disappeared entirely. Only then did you exhale.

You loosened your grip on Sunghoon’s arm, turning toward him. “Thank you,” you began.

“Your fiancée?” said someone from behind you.

You immediately froze, recognizing the timbre, the authority, and the unmistakable tone of your Grandmother’s voice. 

You turned slowly and found her standing a few feet away, handbag tucked neatly under her arm, eyes sharp and clearly amused.

“Did I hear that right,” she said, her smile widening as her gaze flicked between you and Sunghoon, “or am I finally losing my hearing?”

Sunghoon, to his credit, didn’t move. Neither did you. And somewhere between the impulsive little lie and her grin, you realized that things were about to blow out of proportion.

“OMG, Grammy. You heard that? I’m sorry. This is my assistant. I only said he was my fiancée to get that obnoxious Carlo off my back.” 

You could have said that and gotten it over with. But you couldn’t. The delight on your grandmother’s face was too precious for you to shatter with the truth.  So here you were, sitting across from her for an impromptu family dinner, Sunghoon holding your hand beside you. 

You were usually the most intimidating person in any room you walked into. Boardrooms, negotiations, crowded halls full of people waiting for you to speak—none of it ever rattled you. But at that dinner table, you were painfully aware of your posture, your hands, the way your expression changed with every interaction.

Your grandmother had that effect on you. She was the only person who could ever make you nervous, especially when it involved major life decisions like this.

It didn’t help that she was beaming like she’d just won the lottery. Sunghoon, as it turned out, was the grandson of an old friend of hers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew my Grandma?” you had discreetly asked him earlier during the meeting with an investor, while your Grandmother watched from a few tables away.

She had insisted she’d wait until you finished the business meeting, and that was how you found yourselves trapped in this ‘family’ dinner.

“So,” she said, eyes bright as she looked between you and Sunghoon, “how did the two of you meet?”

You stiffened slightly, already bracing yourself. Sunghoon answered easily. “Oh, we met in college,” he said, reaching for his water. “We reconnected only recently when I started working for her.”

Your grandmother’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? And when did you start dating?”

You kept your gaze on your plate, listening. “About a month ago,” Sunghoon replied smoothly.

A month ago. You did the math immediately, your mind racing ahead of your body. That was the exact week he’d started working as your temporary assistant.

“And engaged already?” your grandmother said, delighted rather than suspicious.

Sunghoon nodded. “We didn’t see the point in waiting.”

She laughed, clapping her hands softly. “Oh, I love that. Life is too short to hesitate.” She turned to you then, eyes sharp and delighted. “So you mean to tell me you got engaged without telling me you were dating my best friend’s grandson?”

You opened your mouth, only to just close it again. Sunghoon cleared his throat. “It all happened rather quickly.”

“That’s what I love about it,” she said, waving a hand. “Destiny waits for no one,” she added, laughing.

You laughed too—awkwardly enough that you were sure you’d given it all away. You stared at the food on the table, suddenly finding your favorite dish from the best chef in the city unappetizing and dry.

“Does your family know?” she asked Sunghoom again.

Sunghoon hesitated, glancing at you for an answer. You had absolutely nothing to offer him. Not even a lie half-formed. So you lifted one shoulder, the smallest shrug you could manage.

He turned back to her and smiled. “Not yet. We wanted to keep it quiet for a while,” he said, shrugging lightly. “It hasn’t been very long. But I guess the secret’s out now that you know.”

Your grandmother looked like she might burst from excitement. “Oh, this is wonderful,” she said, already reaching for her phone. “They’ll be thrilled.”

You sat up straighter. “Grandma—”

“Wait,” Sunghoon said at the same time.

She waved both of you off, already dialing. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just tell them quickly.”

You watched in horror as she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?” she said brightly. “Yes, yes, it’s me. You’ll never guess what I just found out.”

You sank back into your chair, heart thudding.

She spoke excitedly, voice warm and loud enough that you caught pieces of the conversation—laughter, delighted exclaims, repeated congratulations. You could hear someone else speaking on the other end, just as excited.

You didn’t catch the names, but you didn’t need to. Whoever was on the other end was laughing too. Your grandmother kept nodding along, with soft mm-hmms and delighted sighs.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it either.” She glanced at the two of you, eyes shining. “They’re here with me right now.”

Sunghoon didn’t move. His hand was still resting near yours on the table, close enough but not quite touching. He looked composed, if a little too still, like he’d decided that reacting would only make things worse.

Your grandmother laughed again. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. Of course it makes sense. Haven’t you always said fate has terrible timing?”

She listened for a moment, then hummed approvingly. “Yes. I’ll tell them.”

She ended the call with a satisfied tap of her finger against the screen and set her phone down carefully, as if savoring the moment. “There,” she said, pleased. “They are over the moon.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose. “Grandma—”

“You never even told them that you were seeing someone, Sunghoon,” she added. “They’re insisting on dinner soon. All of us.”

“That might be difficult,” he said carefully. “With work and—”

“Oh, nonsense,” she interrupted. “You’ll make time. You always do for family.”

She smiled at you then, softer and fonder. “And you,” she said, “I’m gonna excuse the fact that you kept this a secret from me.”

You pressed your lips together, offering something that might have passed for a smile.

Across the table, your grandmother reached for her glass, perfectly satisfied. Beside you, Sunghoon shifted just enough that his knee brushed yours under the table. Neither of you commented on it. But you both understood the same thing at the exact same time.

This had officially gone too far to undo politely.

By the time you finally parted with your grandmother outside the restaurant, you were exhausted. Not the kind of tired you felt after negotiations or long meetings, but the slow, creeping kind that sank into your bones and stayed there.

You slid into the backseat as soon as Sunghoon opened the door for you, barely waiting for it to close before sinking back against the leather. The city lights blurred past the windows as the car pulled away from the curb.

“That,” you said, staring at the ceiling, “went so wrong so fast.”

Sunghoon huffed a small laugh from the driver’s seat. “That’s one way to put it.”

You dragged a hand down your face. “I just wanted Carlo to leave me alone. I didn’t plan on my grandmother calling half the city to announce my engagement.”

“She seemed… enthusiastic.”

“Oh, trust me. That was her being restrained,” you muttered. You straightened slightly, folding your arms. “You’ve been with me long enough to know how she takes my love life very, very seriously.”

The car stopped at a red light. Sunghoon glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “You could let her have it for a few days,” he said casually. “Then tell her it didn’t work out. People break up all the time. We haven’t been dating long anyway. It’ll be believable.”

You sighed, nodding. “That’s the plan.”

The light turned green, and he eased back into traffic. You watched the city slide past again, your reflection faint in the glass.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment. “For dragging you into this. For the phone call with your folks. For—” You waved a hand vaguely. “All of it.”

Sunghoon shrugged, eyes on the road. “It’s fine.”

You looked at him. “You don’t have to say that.”

“No really,” he replied. “I don’t mind. I’ll just consider it part of the job.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d hate the job if I were you.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Well,” he said, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve been dragged into for work.”

You snorted despite yourself. The car slowed in front of your apartment building. Sunghoon parked and turned the engine off. You stepped out of the car, the night air cool against your skin. Behind you, Sunghoon followed, just another assistant at your side.

That was all it was supposed to be.

“See you in the morning, boss,” he said, handing you your bag as you both stopped in front of the elevator.

You nodded. “See you in the morning, Secretary Park.”

He nodded back, then stepped closer—so suddenly that you barely had time to register it before he was right there, warmth and presence crowding your space. 

You froze, surprised by the proximity. For a split-second your mind was racing to process so many things at once—the closeness, the clean scent of his cologne, his steady breathing, and the way you’d been holding yours without realizing it.

Then his arm lifted past your shoulder. The elevator button clicked softly behind you.

“Oh,” you breathed, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Sunghoon pulled back, his expression unreadable for a second, before his mouth curved into a smile—one that made you pause. You’d seen that smile every day for the last few weeks, but this was the first time you’d found yourself completely disarmed by it.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and air rushed back into your lungs like you’d been underwater. You looked away first, stepping inside without a word. 

Sunghoon remained outside, one hand lifting in a wave. “Good night,” he said.

The doors closed between you, sealing him out, and the last thing you saw was that damn smile.

The very next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the nightstand. You squinted at the screen. Grandma.

“Oh my god, what now?” you grumbled, sitting up before answering. “Good morning,” you croaked, rubbing your eyes.

“Pack your bags,” she said immediately, skipping any niceties. “We’re going away for the holidays.”

“It’s still two weeks before Christmas, Grandmama.”

“Oh, honey,” she gushed. “We’ll be spending the holidays with Sunghoon’s family.”

You straightened up, swiping at the alarm that had somehow joined the chaos. “Excuse me?”

“Yes. For a week. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“A WEEK?!” you echoed loudly, standing up on your bed now, clutching a fistful of your hair. “Grandma, what do you mean a week? What… Where—WITH WHOM?”

“Okay, young lady. Calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re rambling like this.”

“Grandma, I can’t—I have work. There’s the holiday promos, the rush, meetings and deals. I literally can’t even disappear for a day, let alone a whole week.”

“You have competent employees for that. I’m sure they can handle it,” she said casually. “Besides, I checked your calendar and you don’t have anything major that requires your immediate attention. Surely you can pause your micromanaging for a few days?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, offended. “I don’t micromanage—ugh. Not the point,” you muttered, more to yourself.

You took a deep breath and sat back on the bed. “Listen, Grandma. I haven’t met his family yet. I haven’t even been introduced as his girlfriend yet. I can’t just show up as his fiancee out of nowhere.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said, waving the thought away like dust. “But this is exactly the right moment. It’s the holidays.”

You paused, genuinely bewildered. “How did this even happen?”

“Oh, my dear, this wasn’t my idea,” she replied, her voice lighting up. “Sunghoon’s grandmother insisted.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. “Grandma—”

“Pack your bags,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t argue with me. I’ve already told them you’re coming and I already took care of everything.”

Now here you were, sitting in your office, heels tapping impatiently on the marble floor, fingers drumming against the wood of your desk. Every five seconds, you checked the clock, willing Sunghoon to appear.

Finally, the office door slid open, and there he was, smiling so calmly like things hadn’t blown out of proportion already. “Oh, there you are, Secretary Park! I need you to act as my fiancée. Again.”

His brows furrowed, confused. “Okay, relax. Why?”

“Surely your family’s told you by now that I am to spend the holidays with you?” you snapped, exasperation leaking into your tone.

He shrugged. “I’ve been told. But… you don’t have to. I can get you out of it if you really hate the idea.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “I don’t like the idea. But you know as well as I do that dissuading my grandmother is impossible.”

He chuckled lightly. “You’ve never let anyone tell you what to do.”

You snorted, leaning forward. “I’ll have you know that my grandmother can—and will—tell me what to do. Ghosting blind dates is a walk in the park, but things like this? Yeah. No way.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgment. “She does seem like the formidable type.”

There was a moment of silence between you, one so comical you could hear the crickets in your head. “So?” you prompted. “Will you do it, or not?”

Sunghoon just shrugged, eyes still playful. “Do I get a raise?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated, but also relieved. “I’ll even make you a regular while I’m at it, Intern Park.”

Being the meticulous person you were, you drafted a contract days before the trip. Not a legal one, of course, but a set of rules you and Sunghoon both agreed to follow while pretending to be engaged. You and Sunghoon made it together and agreed to both of your conditions, especially involving physical intimacy.

You made a point to make sure holding hands and displays of affection were strictly in front of the family only. And of course no hugging unless absolutely necessary. There were clauses about sticking to an agreed context and backstory, and never answering major or intrusive questions without the other.

“How do you feel about sharing a bedroom?” he asked.

“Do we have to? Can’t I get my own guest room?”

Sunghoon shook his head. “You clearly don’t know my family at all. An engaged couple staying in separate bedrooms? They’re gonna be suspicious.”

That made sense. “Alright. But I’m taking the bed. You can have the couch. Or the floor. Whatever works.”

“Come on,” he said, mock-protesting. “It’s my house. I should get the bed.”

“And I’m your boss,” you countered. “Rule number five will be, I always win.”

“Now you’re just power tripping.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Fifth clause. Very important.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at said clause about ‘no kissing or hugging’. “Exceptions?” he asked casually. “Christmas games, dances, mistletoe… maybe a moment of festive goodwill?”

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly. “Exceptions are only if the world is literally ending. Or someone dies. Or—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were overexplaining. “Just don’t ask for exceptions.”

Sunghoon nodded, taking that in stride. “But the situation could call for a hug, you know?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just not.”

“Fine. But I’m telling you, my family will notice.”

“Just what kind of family do you have?”

Apparently, the kind who were affectionate and close, and took Christmas very seriously.

Days later, you boarded a plane with your grandmother practically vibrating with excitement beside you. She chatted the entire time—about the food, about the weather, about how nice it was that you were finally dating and thinking of marriage—while you nodded along, occasionally exchanging looks with Sunghoon over the divider between your seats. Thankfully, first class gave you just enough privacy that you didn’t have to perform more than absolutely necessary.

When you landed, the cold winter air hit you first, stinging your cheek. You’d barely stepped outside the terminal when a pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of you, horn honking cheerfully.

A jolly older man hopped out, grinning wide. “You must be exhausted,” he said warmly, eyes immediately landing on your grandmother. “It’s been too long.”

Her face lit up in a way you didn’t see very often these days. “Look at you,” she said, holding his arm affectionately. “All grown up.”

They hugged like no time had passed at all. Behind you, Sunghoon carefully placed a coat over your shoulder, its warmth engulfing you almost immediately. Then he leaned in slightly, one hand still on your shoulder. “That’s my uncle.”

Sunghoon introduced you and you offered a hand for a shake. “Lovely to meet you.”

The entire drive into town was filled with laughter and reminiscing, stories bouncing back and forth like they’d only seen each other yesterday instead of decades ago. Apparently, his uncle had spent a good portion of his childhood around your grandmother, running around while the adults talked business and dreams and things far too big for children to understand.

You watched your grandmother from the backseat, her smile so soft and sweet, and felt something warm settle in your chest.

“Just how long have you known this family?” you asked her, half-teasing.

Sunghoon’s uncle laughed before she could answer. “Oh, longer than me,” he said easily. “Her and my Ma go way back. Back when I wasn’t even born yet.”

She nodded fondly. “We were already friends when we both had nothing,” she said. “We used to talk about what we’d do one day, when life finally got easier. Now, we have money. But we’re both too busy to see each other.”

You hummed, thoughtful, eyes drifting out the window. A moment later, curiosity got the better of you. You turned slightly toward Sunghoon. “I don’t think you’ve told me what your family does?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Merchandising.”

That was vague. You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could press further, his uncle laughed and pointed ahead, where a tall building rose proudly in the middle of the city square. It stretched for blocks, glass gleaming even under the sky.

“That,” he said, clearly pleased, “is what my dear mother—Sunghoon’s grandma—built from the ground up.”

Your breath caught. It was a shopping mall. Not just any mall, either. You recognized the name immediately. You’d seen more than a few of them back home, even had business with them!

Slowly, you turned to look at Sunghoon, scanning him from head to toe like you were seeing him for the first time.

He noticed. “What?”

“Merchandising?” you said flatly.

He shrugged again, entirely unapologetic. You leaned back in your seat, stunned, eyes flicking back to the building as it disappeared behind you.

Great. Of course you’d accidentally gotten fake-engaged into another powerful family.

When the truck finally came to a stop, you stepped down onto solid ground and immediately turned to Sunghoon, catching him by the sleeve before he could move too far ahead.

“Wait,” you said under your breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you were rich?”

He blinked, genuinely taken aback. “What?”

“That mall,” you said flatly. “The one your family runs. You don’t just forget to mention that, not when you know we’re retail partners with them.”

Sunghoon huffed a laugh. “You never asked. And besides, I’m not rich. My family is.”

You stared at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” he said mildly. “Just not one you like.”

You scoffed, lowering your voice even further. “Then why are you working as an intern? In my company. For—” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “minimum pay and maximum suffering?”

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something but his uncle’s voice came booming from a few steps away. “Sunghoon!”

He looked over his shoulder. “Coming,” he replied easily, then glanced back at you. “Come on.”

You followed them down the pier, heels clicking against weathered wood as the sea air wrapped around you. Only when you reached the edge did you finally understand why everyone had stopped.

A sailboat waited at the dock, white and pristine, bobbing gently against the water. You slowed to a stop. “Why are we getting on a boat?”

Sunghoon glanced at the sailboat, then back at you, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “My family thinks we’re better than everyone else,” he said, “so they bought a whole island and decided to live far away from the commoners.”

You stopped walking altogether. “I’m sorry—what?”

His uncle let out a bark of laughter, clapping a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “That’s not true at all,” he said. “We didn’t move there. It’s just for family gatherings. Holidays. Reunions. That sort of thing.”

“And no, we don’t own the whole island,” his uncle added, looking out into the horizon, one hand on his hip. “Only half of it.”

Like that made it less unreasonable.

You’d spent years thinking your grandmother was extravagant—buying properties she rarely stayed in, collecting things simply because she could. But apparently, somewhere a thousand miles away, another woman had been doing the exact same thing.

No wonder they’re friends.

Sunghoon hovered beside you now, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence without looking at him. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You opened your eyes. “I’m fine.”

He smiled at that, then held a hand out toward you. You hesitated for half a second, narrowing your eyes at him, then just as quickly, remembered the whole happily in love act had officially begun. So you took his hand and let him help you aboard the boat. 

You had a feeling this week is going to be a lot harder than you’d anticipated.

The ride out to the island was mercifully short. The boat cut smoothly across the water, cold wind biting at your cheeks until your eyes watered. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, breath fogging faintly in front of you.

Someone was already waiting there. A girl stood at the edge of the dock, bundled in a thick coat and scarf, waving with both arms like she didn’t feel the cold at all.

“That’s my sister,” Sunghoon said beside you. “Yeji.”

The moment your feet hit the dock, Yeji made a beeline for him, throwing her arms around his neck without hesitation. “You’re alive,” she said dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”

Sunghoon laughed, hugging her back. “You facetimed me three days ago.”

“Three days is a long time,” she shot back, then said something else under her breath that made him groan and flick her forehead lightly. You didn’t catch the words, but the sight of their teasing and laughter made your chest feel oddly warm.

Then Sunghoon turned slightly and gestured toward you. “This is—” He paused for half a second, then continued smoothly. “My girlfriend.”

Yeji’s eyes snapped to you, sharp and curious, then widened with unmistakable delight. “Girlfriend,” she said slowly, grinning mischievously. “That’s not what I heard,” she added in a sing-song.

Sunghoon sighed. “Please be normal. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Welcome,” Yeji said cheerfully, offering a hug which you returned awkwardly. Then she pulled back just enough to study your face. “Wow. You’re very pretty. Why would you wanna marry that guy?”

“Alright,” Sunghoon interjected, tugging Yeji  from behind by her jacket collar. “That’s enough. Go away.”

“What? I think she’s too good for you.” She turned to you. “You sure you don’t wanna change your mind?”

“Stop,” he chided softly, chuckling, “Don’t discourage her. She might just change her mind. Nothing’s decided yet.”

“Oh, what nonsense.”

The voice came from behind Yeji—calm, amused, unmistakably unimpressed. A woman stepped forward, elegant in every sense of the word, eyes narrowing playfully as she looked Sunghoon over.

“You left a perfectly good position in the family business saying you wanted to fend for yourself,” she continued, “and now you come home with a fiancée?” Her lips curved into a smile. “You didn’t even wait a year before crawling back.”

You were taken aback, instinctively scooting closer to Sunghoon after what you heard. In your mind, you were wondering who this was and why she seemed to dislike him.

But beside you, Sunghoon merely sighed, shook his head in exasperation, and told you, “This is my mom.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off-guard. Then it immediately clicked that this might be how they normally talked to each other, and all in good fun, you assumed.

His mother didn’t give you much time to dwell on it. Her attention shifted to you immediately, her expression softening as she stepped closer and pulled you into a hug before you could react.

“Oh,” you exclaimed. Behind her, you mouthed to Sunghoon, ’Is this normal?’

He just shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. “Welcome,” she said warmly. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

You laughed softly, a little breathless, returning the hug despite the nerves curling in your stomach. And then everything moved at once.

You were ushered forward, names thrown at you faster than you could catch them—aunts, cousins, someone’s partner, someone else’s child—smiles and greetings blurring together as you were guided further into the property. The words ‘Sunghoon’s fiancee’ kept echoing in your ears, and you felt a little lightheaded as you realized that lie felt bigger by the second, ballooning with every new face and every fond look directed your way.

Warm air hit you the moment you stepped inside the house, carrying the smell of food and something sweet. It was massive, but you barely had time to take it in before you heard someone call out your grandmother’s nickname.

“Oh my goodness,” a voice exclaimed, followed by hurried footsteps.

An elderly woman appeared with her arms already open, and your grandmother’s face lit up like a sunrise. They met in the middle of the room, hugging tightly, laughing, talking over each other all at once.

You watched them fondly, feeling warm all over and knowing it wasn’t because of the central heating. Then the noise swelled again around you, and you were being pulled into a hug by Sunghoon’s grandmother who had affectionately asked you to call her ‘Nana’.

Eventually—somehow—you and Sunghoon finally escaped everybody’s attention and you found yourself trailing behind him aas he led you down a quieter hallway. You passed through wide corridors, went up several flights of staircases, before he finally stopped in front of a wooden door that looked like every other one in the hall.

“Come on in,” he said, pushing the door open and letting you step inside first.

The room was spacious, sunlight spilling through tall windowsr. A queen-sized bed sat at the center, dressed in crisp white linens under fluffy navy blue duvets. A thick rug covered the hardwood floor, and a small writing desk sat neatly in the corner. A fireplace along one wall had a few framed family photos on its mantle. There was also a couch just in front of the fireplace, and you noticed a subtle scent of pine and cinnamon lingering faintly in the room.

“How big is your family?” you asked, your gaze drifting around, taking in the comfort and scale of the space.

“Not very,” he said, hauling the last of your luggage over to the corner and setting it down with ease. “Nana has five kids, all married with kids. And most of my older cousins are married too, so I’ve got eight nieces and nephews.”

“Wow. Are there like, thirty of you?”

“Almost thirty,” he said, shrugging, a small smile tugging at his lips. “If everyone comes home for the holidays this year, you’re looking at twenty-eight Parks under one roof.”

“That’s a lot of people,” you murmured, scanning the room.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Well, my dad was an only child who had only one kid,” you replied, leaning slightly against the desk. “So, no aunts and uncles for me. No horde of cousins either.”

Sunghoon glanced at you from the doorway, tilting his head slightly. “Right, why didn’t your parents come here with you? I assume they’re thrilled that their only child is engaged.”

You froze, realizing in that moment that you’d never actually told him your parents had passed. Before you could answer, a sharp knock came at the door, swinging open just as quickly without really waiting for anyone to respond.

“Hello! I hope I’m not disturbing anything,” a warm, lively voice called out. Sunghoon’s mother stepped inside, carrying a tray laden with small snacks and a thermos of tea.

“No. We were just settling in,” you answered, trying to sound normal.

“I figured you’d be hungry after that long journey,” she said brightly, setting the tray down. She turned her gaze on you, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “How are you feeling? You’ve traveled so far! Are you comfortable? Did you eat enough on the plane? Oh, do you like sweets?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, blinking at the rapid-fire questions, completely overwhelmed.

“Oh, and I’m so sorry about the chaos,” she said, smiling as she poured tea into the teacup. “Our family tends to overreact. Especially with Sunghoon being the only man in the family who hasn’t married yet. Everyone’s just excited to meet you.”

You felt a genuine warmth spread through your chest. “Thank you,” you said softly, taking a small step closer to accept the cup she was offering.

“And how is my son? Is he good to you? Does he treat you well?”

“Oh, he’s… wonderful. He takes care of everything for me,” you replied, and in a way, what you said was true.

“As he should,” she chimed, looking proud. “He must have been really good to you for you to decide to get married shortly after dating. OH!” She exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat. “You haven’t shown us your engagement ring yet!”

You froze, eyes flitting to Sunghoon across the room. He too looked surprised. You were both realizing in real-time that you had forgotten one, if not the most important thing about this whole engagement thing.

The damn ring!

“Is this it?” his mother asked, reaching for your hand where your default favorite ring to wear wrapped daintily on your finger.

You glanced sideways at Sunghoon, your expression screaming Help me.

“Alright, Mom, we’re tired. We need some rest. Please give us some space,” said Sunghoon, walking over and gently tugging her mom away from you.

“Oh, fine,” she said, still beaming as her son dragged her all the way out of the door. “But you need to tell me everything later!”

“Okay, bye-bye,” Sunghoon said before closing the door to her face.

The silence that followed was like a breath of fresh air. You slumped onto the couch, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I can’t believe you forgot about the ring.”

“Nah, I think that’s on you,” he said casually, sitting on the edge of the bed. “This whole thing was your idea. You should have known getting engaged includes getting a ring.”

“Are you saying you didn’t know that?”

Sunghoon paused, head tilting, deep in thought. You sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. Where’s the contract? Let’s go over it one more time.”

Sunghoon laid it out on the desk and went through the rules you’d carefully set up—holding hands only in front of family, no hugging, no kissing, agreed backstory, a clear understanding of what questions could be answered and which ones required a unanimous decision, and most importantly, telling everyone after the holidays that things didn’t work out and you had to break up.

You came to the clause about the bed, and after a short discussion, agreed to alternate each night between the bed and the couch. 

“Alright, get some rest,” he said after, standing up and walking toward the door. “maybe a shower if you’d like.”

You raised a hand. “Wait, where are you going? You’re not allowed to leave me alone. It’s in the contract. Rule number eight.”

His brows furrowed. “You okay about me being in the room while you shower and get dressed?”

Your cheeks heat up instantly. “Okay. You can go,” you said calmly.

He chuckled softly, hands in his pockets, turning to the door again. “I’ll just check out the field, see what’s there to expect. Don’t worry. I won’t be long,” he beamed, giving a small wave before closing the door.

By the end of that night, the engagement ring situation had been settled. You’d stared down at the ring already on your finger and said, “We can just say this is it.”

Sunghoon had squinted at it, thoughtful. “It doesn’t look like an engagement ring.”

You lifted your chin. “It does. The rock is a diamond. Just smaller than what engagement rings usually have. Do you have a better idea?” you shot back.

He didn’t. So that was that. The ring was promoted on the spot, its significance upgraded without its consent, and you both agreed never to question it again unless absolutely necessary. Preferably never.

And then the week began and nothing could have prepared you for what the holidays looked like in his family.

It was loud. Doors were always opening, someone was always calling out from another room, laughter echoing down hallways. There were meals that turned into three-hour affairs, dishes clattering, voices overlapping, debates breaking out over the most insignificant things. Someone was always touching someone else—an arm around a shoulder, fingers laced together, hair ruffled in passing. Affection here wasn’t saved for special moments. It was everywhere.

It was nothing like the holidays you knew.

Christmas, to you, had always been quiet. A peaceful dinner with your grandmother. Soft music playing in the background. Catching up, exchanging gifts, sitting side by side on the couch with wine glasses until you both got sleepy and called it a night.

Here, Christmas started days early and showed no signs of slowing down.

You were fed constantly. Asked questions constantly. Complimented, hugged, pulled into conversations you barely understood, handed drinks you didn’t ask for. At some point, someone insisted you had to try a dessert because it was “Sunghoon’s favorite growing up,” and suddenly he was there beside you, watching your reaction.

That was another problem entirely. Sunghoon was a little too good at this.

He held your hand casually, like it was second nature. Thumb brushing over your knuckles without thinking. He leaned in when people spoke to you, an arm slipping around your waist like muscle memory. He remembered to pull out your chair, to pass you food first, to check if you were cold before grabbing you a sweater.

None of it felt forced. If anything, you were the awkward one. “How are you so good at this?”

He glanced at you, amused. “Good at what?”

“This,” you said vaguely, gesturing between the two of you. “The loving boyfriend thing. It’s weird!”

His mouth twitched. “Would you rather I be awkward and obvious like you?”

You scoffed. “I am not obvious.”

“You flinch every time I touch you.”

“That’s because you don’t give me a heads up,” you hissed.

He just smiled, infuriatingly smug, and reached for your hand again as someone walked past. “Real couples don’t need a heads up for something like this,” he said, lifting your joined hands, then pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“What are you doing?” you deadpanned, but the smile on his lips remained.

“Nana and your grandma are looking right at us,” he said.

You turned your head to said direction, and found that they were, in fact, not looking. You scoffed, pulled your hand back and glared at him. “I’m docking your pay for this month.”

“You really think I need it?” he asked smugly, spreading his arms in a grand gesture.

You grimaced, taken aback by an arrogance you’d never seen in him before. “Stop. It’s your family’s, not yours.”

“Well, I’m part of this family, so…” he replied, shrugging arrogantly. You snorted, rolling your eyes but not denying your laugh.

Sunghoon has always been popular in your company. You noticed that much after weeks of having him beside you everyday. People were always ogling him, heads turned whenever he passed by, followed by giggles and dreamy sighs. It was different from when it was just you. Most of the time, people tried to avoid eye contact with you and turned the other way when they saw you coming.

Of course you knew why he was popular—it has all to do with his good-looks. You tried, but you could never deny that his appearance was, in fact, out of this world. Not to mention he’s tall, has good genes, and is intelligent. But other than that, there wasn’t much you could say about him as a person. You didn’t really know what he was like outside of work, after all. You never paid him that much attention unless he was giving you a rundown of the day’s agenda.

But here, in his home, surrounded by his family, you started noticing him more—not as your assistant, not even as your fake fiancée—but as someone in his own world. You saw the way he laughed freely here, all toothy and loud. The way he let his nieces climb all over him, how he listened when his grandmother spoke, how his mother scolded him and kissed his cheek in the same breath.

He was warm here. Soft and gentle in a way you’d never seen at work. And he was always close to you. His hand would find the small of your back in crowded rooms. He’d tuck you in beside him on couches, offer you food before himself, glance at you like he was checking if you were still okay. Sometimes you caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking, his eyes gentle and unreadable.

You told yourself it was part of the act. But as the days passed, surrounded by noise and laughter and far too much affection, you started feeling like you were the one pretending the hardest.

“You ready?” he asked on the morning of the 23rd.

You’d just finished touching up your makeup. “Yes.”

“Okay good. Let’s go. Everyone’s waiting.”

You hesitated, retracting your hand when he reached for it. Sunghoon looked at you like he was over it. “Well? Come on then.”

“It’s just…” you huffed, gesturing vaguely. “It’s a family pictorial. I’m not exactly… family.”

Sunghoon chuckled, reaching for your hand again. “We’ve talked about this. It’s not that deep.”

Except it was. You couldn’t fathom how Sunghoon could be so calm about this whole thing. Not just the family pictorial, but the whole sham of an engagement you two were in. 

“I can hear you thinking. Stop that,” he prompted, tugging you by the hand, all the way out of the bedroom.

The house was full. Not metaphorically—literally full. Every bedroom was occupied, couches were claimed, extra chairs pulled out from storage, voices overlapping in every corner of the house. The entire family had arrived, cousins and partners and children. You’d naturally been absorbed into it, everyone’s basically been treating you like family.

They had a tradition, apparently. A family photo every Christmas. Same spot, same arrangement, different years. It was said to always happen every morning of the 23rd, two days before Christmas. And everyone took it seriously, dressing up with intent and looking their best.

“You can’t not join,” Sunghoon reminded you, steering you toward the center of the room. “That’d be weird. Am I supposed to tell everyone, ‘this is a fake engagement so she’s skipping out’?”

You lowered your voice as people shuffled around you, calling names, arguing about height order. “That’s the thing. This is fake and temporary, but the photo we’re taking is gonna live forever in your family albums. Immortalized and revisited every year.”

He laughed softly, like it hadn’t even occurred to him that this could be a problem. “If you really feel that bad about it,” he said, shrugging, “you could always marry me for real. Clear your conscience.”

You gave him a deadpan look. He simply grinned, completely unrepentant, then gently nudged you forward as someone called his name again. 

By then, it was too late to back out. You let yourself be placed beside him, his arm slipping easily around your back like it belonged there.

The camera flashed.And just like that, this Christmas was immortalized as the year Sunghoon brought home a girl. If you didn’t get caught in the lie, then it would be the year he brought home a fiancée and things didn’t work out. If you did get caught, then it would still be the year he brought home a fiancée, but a fake one.Either way. It would be humiliating for him.

You thought that would be the end of it. But later, after breakfast, when the living room had devolved into noise and laughter and people sprawled across every available surface, one of his cousins produced a Polaroid camera.

“Oh, we’re doing couples,” she announced. “This is non-negotiable.”

Groans followed, and some cheers. You felt Sunghoon’s hand find yours before you’d even fully processed what was happening, his fingers lacing with yours like muscle memory.

“You weren’t kidding,” you muttered under your breath. “Your family really does love each other.”

“You love us too,” he murmured back, grinning.

“I’ve known you people for a week,” you retorted, scoffing. But then, looking around, you added, “But yeah. You guys are cool.”

You were herded onto the couch together, shoulders pressed close. Someone crouched in front of you, aiming the camera. She looked into the camera, then at the two of you, brows furrowed.

“Are you guys really dating?” she asked, and you felt your heart drop to the floor. For a second, you wondered if you got caught, but then she added, “Scoot closer. This isn’t the 1800s.”

You chuckled and it came out strained. Sunghoon’s arm snaked around your waist, making you stiffen and glance at him. He gave it a gentle squeeze, urging you to relax. So you tried.

“Kiss!” someone shouted from behind, followed by a chorus of hoots and whistles.

“That’s enough,” Sunghoon said lightly, but firmly. “You’re not getting a show.”

There were groans. Booing. Someone yelled that he was no fun. He just shrugged like none of it bothered him.

“Smile!” the cousin prompted.

You smiled without thinking. Then the camera clicked, and the photo slid out with a soft whirr.

Sunghoon didn’t move right away. Neither did you. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, eyes gleaming, a smile playing on his lips. You stared back, brows furrowing, confused at the attention he was giving you.

You waited a second. Then another. The smile on his lips didn’t change, it just stayed there, sweet and knowing, like he was in on something you weren’t.

Heat crept up your neck. You shifted slightly on the couch, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting, of his arm still resting behind you. “Why are you staring at me?”

He hummed softly, like he was thinking about it. But he still didn’t answer. So you stopped looking away.

If he was going to stare, then fine. You could stare too.

But that was a bad idea. The noise around you slowly faded while you held his gaze, your heart thudding louder and louder with every passing second. His expression changed then, and you couldn’t tell what it meant. It was something between amusement and surprise.

Click!

You both broke at the sound, turning toward his cousin.

“Oh,” she said, already grinning down at the developing photo. “This one’s going on the tree!”

Everyone eventually drifted off to do their own thing. The kids bundled themselves up and tore out into the snow, their shrieks of laughter muffled by scarves and knit hats. You stayed inside, lounging on one of the couches near the wide living room windows, a warm mug cradled between your palms as you watched them tumble and recover and tumble again.

Nana sat beside you with a knitted blanket over her lap, while your grandma sat across from you, glasses perched low on her nose.

“They used to do that too,” your grandma said fondly, nodding toward the window. “Run around like little monsters until we had to drag them back inside.”

You smiled. “Who?”

“Your father,” Nana replied with a smile. “And my kids. Every summer, without fail. They’d come stay here for weeks. This place was a rental at the time. We didn’t have enough money yet to purchase it.”

Your attention sharpened. You hadn’t heard much about that time—just fragments, half-remembered anecdotes your grandmother would mention in passing.

“Oh yes,” your grandmother chimed in. “We saved up a few months of salary just to rent this out for summer,” she added, laughing heartily.

Nana nodded, looking outside. “They were inseparable. Always muddy, always hungry. Your father was so polite, though. Even as a boy.”

Grandma chuckled. “Polite until he got comfortable.”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising you. “That sounds like him.”

“They were happy summers,” Nana continued, her voice warm with memory. “Those were good days. This place witnessed those kids grow up. Your mom and dad got engaged here.”

The room fell into a gentle hush, that subtle heaviness creeping in. You knew it all too well. It always happened whenever your parents were brought into the conversation. Nana reached out and patted your knee, her touch gentle and affectionate.

“You must miss them very much,” she said softly.

You swallowed, then nodded. “I do. But it’s okay. Really.” You managed a small smile. “I was young. I barely remember some things.”

That wasn’t entirely true—but it was the version you’d learned to give people, the one that made them stop looking at you like you might shatter.

Nana studied you for a moment, eyes kind but knowing. “Still,” she said, “we’re glad you’re here. You’re family too, you know.”

You blinked, throat tightening unexpectedly. “Thank you,” you said, meaning it more than you could explain.

Then, as if sensing the mood had sunk too low, your grandma straightened a little and clapped her hands together lightly. “Well! Speaking of family,” she said brightly, “have you two thought about where you’ll get married?”

“I—what?” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” your grandma laughed. “This is not an unexpected subject.”

You chuckled awkwardly. “No. No, it’s not. I just—we… Sunghoon and I haven’t discussed it yet.”

“But you’re gonna get married anyway, aren’t you?” Nana asked, placing a hand on your arm. “Why wait? You could do it here. After Christmas. The snow would be beautiful.”

“Oh, I love winter weddings,” your grandma gushed.

“I do too!” Nana agreed, also gushing. “My youngest had one and it was majestic!”

Your mind scrambled, panic blooming fast. After Christmas? Here? You could practically feel the lie ballooning again, threatening to burst.

“I think that might be a little—” you started, glancing desperately around the room, looking for Sunghoon.

“Oh, of course we’ll leave that up to you two,” said Nana, giggling. “But think about it and let us know. I know a good organizer who can give us an amazing event in short notice.”

Right on cue, the front door opened. Cold air rushed in along with laughter, Sunghoon’s uncle stomping snow off his boots as Sunghoon followed behind him, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Perfect conditions out there,” his uncle announced cheerfully. “Snow uphill is just right. We can go sledding today!”

The kids immediately erupted, cheers echoing through the house. Sunghoon’s gaze flicked to you, taking you in—your posture, your pallid face and horrified expression—and quickly understood that you needed him.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted, kissing his Nana on the cheek and your grandma too. “I hope you’re not bullying my fiancee.”

They both chuckled, waving their hands. “Oh, we’re just talking,” Nana said, smiling. 

Sunghoon turned to you. “Wanna go sledding?”

“Yes,” you exclaimed with enthusiasm, not because you wanted to go but because you couldn’t wait to get out of there. “I love sledding.”

“Then we should go before they destroy the hill,” he smiled, offering a hand.

Nana laughed, waving a hand. “Go on, go. We’ll talk weddings later.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet standing up. Sunghoon fell into step beside you as you walked toward the main door, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You okay?”

“Pretty sure I was this close to spontaneously combusting,” you whispered back. “But yeah. I’m okay.”

Outside, the cold bit through your coat immediately. The sky was pale and endless, the snow untouched and glittering. Laughter was echoing from the hill as kids dragged sleds uphill.

Sunghoon handed you a pair of gloves without comment. You took them automatically, slipping them on. “Our grandmas suggested we get married here, just after Christmas. Apparently they both love winter weddings.”

“Oh, wow. What did you say to that?” he asked, walking over to fix your bonnet.

You scoffed, then rolled your eyes, letting him tie the laces of your bonnet under your chin. “What do you think? Couldn’t even get a word in. They were taking a mile a minute.”

He chuckled softly, patting your head after he was done with the laces. “Don’t mind them. Ultimately, the decision would be up to us. They can’t force us to do anything.”

You hummed to that, agreeing. Then you looked up at his hand, still sitting on your head. “You’re getting comfortable, Secretary Park.”

He grinned, defiant, not moving his hand away as he leaned down to say, “Except I’m not Secretary Park right now. I’m your baby.”

You grimaced, swatting his hand away. “Ew. As if.”

“Ah, it wasn’t ‘baby’. What was it, again?” he teased, walking backward. “My love, was it?”

You scowled, running after him to hit him. But he dodged easily. “You’re so annoying. I’m firing you first thing when we get back.”

“No, you won’t,” he grinned, holding out a hand. “You’re not gonna find a secretary who can do better than me.”

You scoffed, but you knew he was right. “Only for now,” you retorted. “As soon as Becca’s back, you’re out,” you added, then took his hand and followed him into the snow.

Sledding, apparently, was a two-person activity. You found that out only after everyone had already scattered across the hill, pairs forming naturally.

“Oh, I’m good,” you said quickly, hanging back near the fence. “I’ll just… watch.”

Sunghoon turned toward you, breath fogging in the cold. “You don’t wanna try?”

“I’m perfectly content being moral support,” you replied, hands tucked into your coat sleeves. “Very enthusiastic moral support.”

“Come on. It’s fun. You’re gonna love it,” he offered, smiling. Then he held a hand out to you, palm up.

“C’mon,” he said again. “One ride.”

You hesitated. You really did. You even glanced back toward the house, like the contract might physically manifest and slap his hand away for you. But then he tilted his head slightly, arm still extended, that stupid smile on his lips, and you sighed.

“Fine,” you muttered, stepping forward. “But hands around me is against the rules.”

He lifted a brow. “We’re sledding. I have to hold you.”

You considered that for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Compromise.”

You followed him, letting him guide you toward one of the sleds waiting at the top of the hill. The snow was packed down from use. You sat down first, legs tucked in, bracing yourself.

Sunghoon climbed on behind you and you stiffened immediately as his knees bracketed your hips, your back pressing flush against his chest through layers of winter coats.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice too close to your ear that it made the hair on your neck rise.

“I am relaxed,” you blurted, which was a blatant lie.

His hands hovered for a second, like he was giving you time to object. When you didn’t, he placed them carefully at your sides instead of fully around you, fingers gripping the edge of the sled.

“See?” he whispered in your ear, and you felt that in the way your heart started racing. “No rules broken.”

Your heart was already pounding like you were halfway down the hill. “Just… don’t move them,” you warned.

“I won’t.”

The sled jerked forward. Snow rushed past in a blur as gravity took over, the world tilting, the cold air biting at your cheeks. You gasped, half-laughing, half-panicking as the speed picked up.

Behind you, Sunghoon laughed too, his breath warm where it brushed your ear. The sled hit a small bump, and you jolted back instinctively. His arm tightened at your side—not wrapping, but close enough that you felt it anyway.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah!” you replied, grinning so hard as the wind whipped against your face.

When the sled finally slowed at the bottom of the hill, snow spraying up around you, you were both still laughing, breathless, a little unsteady.

Then the laughter faded. You looked up at him at the same time he looked down at you, and suddenly the space between your faces felt too small. Small enough that you could feel his warm breath against your cheek.

You blinked a few times, surprised and frozen in place. Sunghoon’s gaze dropped to your mouth, just for a second. When it lifted again, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing once. Seeing that and the intent in his eyes made your heart kick painfully against your ribs, like it was trying to escape.

Laughter and cheering exploded behind you as another sled barreled to a stop nearby.

You moved instantly, standing too fast, stepping away before your body could do something stupid. Cold air rushed back in like a shock as you brushed snow from your coat, cheeks burning despite the winter air.

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “That was fun,” he said, smiling like nothing happened.

You swallowed, looking away. “Yeah.”

Behind you, you could feel his gaze linger. You told yourself it was just adrenaline. Still, when he reached for the sled again and asked, “One more?” you didn’t say no.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You drifted between rooms, between conversations—helping in the kitchen, sitting in on half-finished card games, watching kids chase each other until someone inevitably cried over a stolen candy cane. 

Somewhere in the middle of it all, you realized you’d stopped keeping track of where Sunghoon was at all times. Not because you didn’t care, but because you didn’t need to.

He was there when you glanced up from a conversation, leaning against a doorway, already looking at you. He was there beside you when someone handed out mugs of something warm, your shoulders brushing as you accepted yours. There were looks shared across the room, quick whispered comments that made you laugh under your breath, inside jokes forming without effort.

For once since you got here, there was no pressure to perform. No constant mental checklist. No fear that you’d look too distant for two people who were supposedly engaged. You were just genuinely enjoying yourself.

By nightfall, after a movie that half the room slept through, you found yourself walking back down the hall beside him, the house was quieter now, voices fading behind closed doors.

You were still laughing about a scene from the movie neither of you could take seriously. Your steps slowed naturally as you reached the door to the bedroom.

Sunghoon lingered in the hallway, hands in his pockets, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he said casually, “you’re a really good person.”

You snorted, already turning toward the door. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

That made you pause. You glanced back at him, brows lifting. “Right. Sure you are.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, really. People at work call you Medusa, but I think they’re wrong about you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, I don’t call you that,” he added quickly. “It’s just them.” 

You stared at him, genuinely caught off guard. “Medusa?”

“Like I said, they’re wrong. Please forgive them,” he said, smiling. “It’s just that they’ve never met someone so hardworking and intelligent. So sharp. So… wonderful. I think they figured there’s no way a real person could be that amazing, so they called you Medusa.”

Your stomach fluttered, completely against your will. But then you scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “Or,” you said, recovering, “it’s because people freeze when they see me. Like Medusa turns them into stone.”

He laughed. “That too.”

You laughed too, the sound echoing softly down the quiet hallway. And then for a moment, neither of you said anything. You were just staring at each other. When he leaned on the wall adjacent to the door, you mirrored him by leaning on his bedroom door.

Crossing your arms, you said, “It’s my turn on the bed tonight.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, eyes glimmering, shaking his head. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

He opened his mouth—probably to argue, like always—then stopped. His gaze was still on you, that soft glow in his eyes was still there.

“…Fine,” he sighed, pushing himself away from the wall and walking toward you. He stopped just a breath away. “You can have it.”

You frowned, caught off guard. “That was too easy.”

He shrugged, reaching for the door knob behind you, leaning in so close. “Don’t get used to it,” he murmured, still not moving away even after he had pushed the door open.

You smiled, shaking your head lightly, and walked in. You took your cardigan off, reached the bed, arranged the blanket—you counted the steps in your head, not because you needed to, but because your chest was doing this ridiculous fluttering thing.

Sunghoon followed quietly, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips, and you watched as he picked up his blanket and headed to the couch. Then he gave you a small wave before disappearing behind the backrest. 

You lay down, smiling to yourself, staring up at the ceiling, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest.

This is bad, you whispered in your thoughts. This is so bad. You were smiling like an idiot. Because of Park Sunghoon! 

You exhaled through your nose. Okay. So maybe you were enjoying this holiday. A little too much. And yes. Fine. Sunghoon likes you. You weren’t imagining that. You’d spent your entire career reading people; you weren’t about to pretend you couldn’t read this.

But the more troubling realization was: you might be starting to like him back.

And that was bad because you had no idea how to tread this territory. This wasn’t in the agreement. There was no clause for catching feelings, no protocol for what to do if that ever happened.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice carried from across the room, making your head snap that way, quieting your thoughts.

“Hey…” you murmured back.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer right away. You let yourself breathe. Then you exhaled softly, trying to get some control back, and making a decision right then and there. “Goodnight, Secretary Park,” you murmured.

You knew what it meant to call him that, knew how that sounded. But the words weren’t exactly for him. Not really. They were for you—a reminder to draw a line, to keep your head straight and not get distracted.

Because it turns out that the most dangerous thing about fake dating is not getting caught; it’s when things start to feel real.

The house was already awake when you stirred the next morning. You could tell before you even opened the door—voices overlapping downstairs, footsteps on the stairs, laughter that was louder than usual. Sunghoon noticed it too the second he stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, sleeves rolled as he buttoned his shirt.

“Is it just me or is the house noisier than usual?” he asked, voice light.

You huffed a laugh. “Maybe your family multiplied in their sleep.”

You didn’t get far down the stairs before his mother intercepted the both of you, beaming, hands clasped together like she’d been waiting all morning for this exact moment.

“Surprise!” she said brightly.

Behind her, the living room was packed. Not just relatives—new faces. Older couples you didn’t recognize, younger people clustered near the windows, a few men Sunghoon vaguely waved at in recognition. Someone had already put music on. Someone else had brought food. There were flowers on the table that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday.

Sunghoon blinked once. “Mom, what’s going on?”

His mother laughed, waving him off. “Oh, we thought it would be nice to surprise you with an engagement party and invite our family friends, and your friends of course.”

“Your friends?” you asked, looking at Sunghoon.

“Yes, dear,” his mom answered. “Kids he grew up with and went to school with.”

She looped an arm through yours before you could take a step back. “I know it’s a lot, and you two have a penchant for keeping things lowkey. But don’t worry, this is just a small function. We won’t put you in too much spotlight, so no pressure.”

“Hah,” you exclaimed, then chuckled awkwardly. “Of course. No pressure,” you echoed, glancing sideways at Sunghoon.

“Mom,” he said, “you really didn’t have to—”

“Oh hush,” she said, already steering you further into the hall. “Everyone’s been dying to meet you properly.”

And just like that, the lie wasn’t a snowball anymore. It’s an avalanche.

You endured. That was the only way to describe it. Endurance. You smiled when people congratulated you. You nodded when they said you were beautiful together. You accepted hugs from women who smelled like perfume and winter coats and cinnamon.

Someone pressed a drink into your hand. Someone else asked how you met. You answered automatically, muscle memory carrying you through a story you’d told often enough that it no longer snagged.

Sunghoon stayed close. A hand at your back, a glance across the room when the noise spiked. Every so often, he’d hold your hand and give it a light squeeze, as if he was apologizing and asking you to power through.

His friends were easier than you expected. They were polite, warm, and a little teasing, the kind that only comes from a long shared history.

One of them clapped Sunghoon on the shoulder. “Good for you man. Moving away, starting over, meeting someone you wanted to marry.”

“Jealous, Jake?” another guy scoffed. “Maybe if you stopped sleeping around like a menace—”

“Oh, shut up, Jay,” Jake shot back. “You’re the one flirting with sad married women.”

“For the last time,” Jay sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like this argument had worn him thin, “she’s not married. She’s divorced.”

You watched Sunghoon through it all—relaxed, carefree, amused, completely at ease in the presence of friends who knew him best.

“So,” Heeseung cut in, eyes flicking between the two of you. “What are you doing these days, Hoon?”

“Yeah,” someone else added. “What happened after you left the family company?”

That caught your attention. You glanced at Sunghoon. “The slave contract you were talking about,” you said slowly, “that was with your family?”

He grinned, entirely unapologetic. You scowled. “The hell? So you were a nepo baby too. How dare you call me one.”

Sunghoon laughed, head lolling back. You just stared at him, unimpressed. His friends too, apparently. They were just staring like they had no idea what was so funny. 

Sunghoon eventually noticed it, so he stopped, cleared his throat, and straightened up. “I’m working as a secretary,” he said, and then, with visible pride, slid an arm around your shoulder. “In her cosmetics company.”

The pause was immediate. “…Wait,” Jay said. “You work for her?”

“She’s the CEO?” Jake asked, and Sunghoon nodded again.

“So you’re—” Heeseung pointed at you, then back at Sunghoon. “—his boss?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon said proudly. “She’s very cool.”

There was a second where you braced yourself, afraid they might judge him for it. But then Jake barked out a laugh. Then suddenly, everyone else was laughing.

“No way,” Jay said, shaking his head. “You? Taking orders?”

Jake followed, grinning wide. “Do you have any idea how insane that is? This man has never worked under anyone.”

“Ever,” Heeseung added. “He used to boss entire departments around like it was a sport.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“That’s extremely true,” Jake shot back. He turned to you, “He’s so annoying. And he doesn’t even realize it. He once made a manager wait because he ‘wasn’t done talking.’”

You blinked, surprised, then laughed before you could stop yourself. Nodding, you said, “He is kinda annoying. And tactless sometimes.”

Jay pointed at you, delighted. “See? Imagine that kind of guy working under someone?”

Sunghoon was pouting now. “I’m gonna cry and tell my mom if you don’t stop,” he quipped.

But his friends ignored him. Jake asked you, “Bet you’re always on the verge of firing him every day, huh?”

You shrugged. “Not really. He is annoying but I can keep him in line. And he’s pretty good at his job. There are only two people who can keep up with me, and he’s one of them.”

“Figures,” Heeseung said, nodding like it all made sense now. “Leaves the family business, ends up working for someone smarter than him.”

“And marries her,” Jake added, grinning. “How poetic.”

Sunghoon didn’t deny it. If anything, he looked pleased—standing there beside you like this arrangement wasn’t something to be embarrassed about, but something he’d chosen.

You felt something warm settle in your chest at that. 

“So,” Jake said, dragging a chair closer and plopping down like he was settling in for a story. “I gotta ask. How did this happen?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You two,” Jake clarified, gesturing between you. “From boss and secretary to engaged and getting married soon.”

Jay leaned forward, eyes bright. “Yeah. Did he seduce you with his wiles while pretending to work as your secretary?”

Sunghoon scoffed. “I did not seduce her.”

“You absolutely did,” Jake said. “Look at him. That’s a man who knows how to weaponize his out-of-this-world good looks.”

You snorted. “Please. If anything, he annoyed me into submission.”

Sunghoon gasped. “That’s slander.”

“Oh, come on,” Jay said. “You’re telling me he didn’t pull the whole competent, always-there, remembers-your-coffee-order routine?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth to protest again, but you beat him to it. “It’s not hard to fall for Sunghoon,” you said.

The table went quiet. You hadn’t planned to say that. It just slipped out.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of the way Sunghoon had turned fully toward you. “I mean—he is,” you continued. “He’s thoughtful. He pays attention. He notices things most people don’t bother with. He anticipates what needs to be done without making a show of it.”

Sunghoon didn’t interrupt. He just watched you, expression unreadable, eyes steady.

“He’s… considerate. And patient. And surprisingly kind. Of course, he’s sarcastic and all but even that is excusable because those little arguments are fun and makes every day less dull,” you added, smiling absently. “And he’s the sweetest. Which is annoying, actually, because it makes it hard to stay mad at him.”

You finally looked at Sunghoon.

He was smiling—but not the smug one, not the teasing one. This was softer, the same smile he had been giving you these last few days. The kind that looked like he was grateful for the existence of you. He looked like he hadn’t expected to hear all that, but he was holding it carefully now that it existed.

You gave him the same smile. Or as best as you could reflect it, hoping, and knowing, that he knew exactly what it meant. And you realized now that you had just crossed a line. 

Straight up just stepped over it without hesitation, after telling yourself very clearly the night before where it was.

Jake stood abruptly. “Okay. Nope. I’m too single for this.” He waved a hand between the two of you. “You’re both being disgustingly in love. Kissing in front of me would’ve been less damaging.”

Heeseung laughed. “Agreed. Let’s move on before I start believing in love again.”

You huffed a laugh, but it came out weaker than you meant it to. Your chest was heavy with warmth and feelings and… and love.

But you had no time to dwell on it. Someone suggested games. Someone else brought snacks. Chairs were pulled, conversations restarted, the day rolling forward like nothing had almost happened.

But when Sunghoon held your hand under the table later, not for show because no one would’ve seen it, you didn’t move away. And for the rest of the day, you didn’t bring up the line you’d drawn. You just quietly stood on the other side of it.

The engagement party thing was over by noon. Guests left one by one, and the family resumed preparations for Christmas Eve dinner. You were gathered in the kitchen with the adults, helping out with the cookies.

Sunghoon was sitting in a chair beside you, casually chatting with you and his mom about holiday traditions.

“Your parents actually used to host the winter bonfires,” said Sunghoon’s mom, smiling fondly at you. 

“They did?” you asked, delighted to hear another anecdote about your parents.

She nodded. “Yes. Every year. And then your mom got pregnant with you, so they skipped a year. After that, the whole tradition just stopped,” she added, sighing. “They’d always made it so magical. We simply could not recreate it.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, gesturing with his mug. “I remember when I met her parents. Incredible people. And her mom’s so beautiful.”

The room froze. Adults exchanged sharp glances, eyebrows raised. His mom looked at him, brows furrowed. “You met her parents?”

“Yeah. I—” You nudged Sunghoon’s leg under the table, stopping him.

“But that’s impossible, dear,” Nana said, her voice laced with sympathy, “you couldn’t have. Her parents passed away a long time ago.”

You felt Sunghoon freeze beside you. Quick on your feet, you leaned slightly toward him, your tone casual as if nothing unusual had happened, as if your heart didn’t just sink to your stomach. 

“Oh, I took him to their graves,” you said smoothly. “He met them there.”

Sunghoon blinked at you, clearly realizing he’d made a mistake.

“I wanted to introduce him to them first,” you added, smiling, channeling your best acting yet. “I didn’t know our connection yet at the time, but they were probably thrilled to know I’m marrying their close friend’s son.”

“Aw,” Sunghoon’s mom sighed. “That’s very thoughtful of you, isn’t it?”

The tension in the room melted almost instantly, replaced by murmurs and soft chuckles from the other adults. Conversation resumed around you, with only a few glances exchanged—reminders of the near slip, and of just how good you were at thinking on your feet.

Sunghoon reached for your hand, so you glanced at him. He looked apologetic, and you could tell it wasn’t because he nearly revealed that you weren’t in a real relationship. You smiled at him, patting his hand and mouthing, ‘It’s okay.’

By the time dinner preparations were done, you were exhausted. Exhausted from the engagement party, from socializing with people who were basically strangers to you, and exhausted from helping out in the kitchen.

“This is nice and all, but I think I prefer our boring Christmas dinners, Grandma,” you told your Grandma while getting dressed for dinner.

She chuckled heartily, sitting in front of her vanity and trying on a different shade of lipstick. “Being surrounded by people you love on Christmas is how it’s supposed to be, my dear. It’s a shame I couldn’t give you this kind of warmth growing up.”

“Hey,” you chided, walking toward her and wrapping your arms around her shoulder. “I have no complaints, so you shouldn’t talk like that. You raised me as best as you can and taught me everything I know.”

Your Grandma melted in your embrace, sighing as she put the lipstick down. “Yeah, you’re a wonderful kid, alright. I just wished you were a little sweeter.”

“Please,” you chuckled, pulling away. “My lack of sweetness and my attitude in general is thanks to you, as well.”

“I know that, but couldn’t you be more affectionate? Or expressive?” she sighed, gaze following you across the room. “Learn a thing or two about expressing yourself from Sunghoon.”

“Too late for that,” you quipped, checking your reflection in the mirror once more.

Your Grandma sighed in defeat. “I guess I should be glad you’re marrying him then. He can express affection for both of you.”

Then came a series of knocks on the door. You quickly walked toward it, yanking it open knowing Sunghoon would be on the other side. 

“Hi,” he beamed, taking you in with his eyes. “You look amazing.”

You shrugged. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my love,” you replied, using your endearment, not because your grandma was there, but because… just because.

“Shall we?”

The dining room was warm, the scent of roasted meat and cinnamon filling the air. Dinner was loud like always in this house—chairs scraping, someone always talking over someone else, Nana shushing nobody in particular.

You ended up seated beside Sunghoon, mostly because every time you tried to move, someone asked you to stay. He passed you food without asking. You corrected his grip on the serving spoon once. He fixed it without comment.

At some point, his Nana leaned over.  “Is now the best time to talk weddings?”

Sunghoon chuckled lightly. “Nana, it’s Christmas eve. We’ll have time for that later.”

Nana tried to insist, but eventually gave up when you both refused adamantly. Later, when some cousins got up to chase the kids outside for an impromptu snowball fight, Sunghoon leaned closer. 

After dishes were cleared and the family settled around the living room for a low-volume carol playlist, you both slipped out to the balcony, leaving the laughter and chatter behind. The night was cold, and snowflakes drifted lazily downward, coating the garden below in soft white. Sunghoon wrapped a blanket around himself, then stood behind you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, wrapping his arms and the blanket around you.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth seep in immediately. “Are people watching?”

“Yeah. About a dozen of them,” he replied briskly. “I think I need to hold you closer. Make it more believable, you know?” he added, already tightening his arms around you.

You could tell he was lying, but you didn’t bother confirming. “You should, or we’d get caught,” you said, leaning your head against his chest.

“Your family has a lot of stamina,” you said after a pause. “I would’ve tapped out after day one.”

“You did better than I expected,” he replied, chuckling. “Everyone likes you. Nana adores you.”

“That’s terrifying,” you said, looking up at him. “She’s very perceptive.”

Sunghoon smiled, shifting a little and pressing his chin on top of your head. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Day.”

“I know. One more day and this is all over,” you replied, taking a long relieved breath. “We can finally go back to how things were.”

You felt him stiffen behind you, recovering almost as quickly. He laughed slowly. “I was actually thinking the same thing. When this is over, we could go back to our hectic, caffeinated daily routine, closing deals like champs, terrorizing the marketing head, pressuring manufacturers, calling the lab day in and day out for new and improved formulas.”

“You’re making us sound like bad capitalists,” you quipped, grinning. “I mean we’re capitalists but we're not that bad.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. “And I was also thinking…” he paused, loosened his arms, and turned you around so you could face him fully.

He braced his hands on the railing, caging you in as he stared into your eyes. You held your breath and looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“I was thinking maybe we could go out on nice dinners sometimes. After work,” he continued. “Go on a road trip on weekends. Maybe catch a movie if you’re into that.”

“Like bosses and secretaries do?”

He huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure they don’t do that.”

You shrugged, still looking anywhere but his eyes. “They might. If they’re… dating.”

The word lingered between you, more meaningful than you meant it to be. Sunghoon stayed quiet for a few moments, then, softly, carefully, he said your name, the word rolling beautifully on his tongue.

You looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “Yes? Sunghoon?”

Something changed in his expression. Like you’d tapped something only he could feel. “That’s three times,” he said softly.

“What?”

“Three times you’ve called me by my name since we met.”

You blinked, surprised he’d even noticed. “You’re counting?”

He shrugged. “If you’re Secretary Park every minute of the day, you just can’t help but keep count.”

Neither of you moved. He didn’t step closer, diidn’t touch you, he just stayed there, giving you space and somehow still holding you in place.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, almost in a whisper.

“That would be breaking the rules,” you said, automatically. Not because you actually cared about the rules, but because  you were too nervous. Your heart was kicking hard against your ribs. Your breathing was getting unsteady. And your skin was pricking not from the cold, but from anticipation.

“I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled, already leaning in.

You met him halfway. In a kiss that was soft and careful, growing firmer with every breath. His hand found your waist, warm through the layers, steadying you as your lips pressed back with more certainty.

For a moment, you couldn’t hear or see anything. You could only feel. Feel his hand around you, his lips against yours, his warmth, your warmth, his heartbeat against your own. Snow fell. Laughter drifted faintly from inside. The world continued on, unaware. Or maybe they were aware. You didn’t care. Right now, nothing else mattered but this moment right here.

Even after you pulled away, you stayed close, foreheads touching, breaths fogging, cheeks flushed, and grinning. Sunghoon’s hands lingered at your waist, firm but gentle, the warmth through the layers of your coats seeping into you like it was meant to.

“God, it’s freezing out here,” he murmured, voice low.

“You don’t say,” you whispered back, and the words were a laugh and a shiver at the same time.

He tilted his head slightly, nudging yours so your noses brushed. “I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply.

You tilted your chin up, meeting his eyes. “I know,” you said softly.

He let out a small laugh, almost a sigh, pressing a little closer. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted, and it came out softer than you expected, a confession you hadn’t planned to give aloud.

There was a pause, long enough that you could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, long enough that the wind seemed to hush around you. Your hands found his neck, and he leaned into your touch, eyes closing for just a fraction of a second before reopening, searching yours.

“I can’t pretend anymore.”

“Then let’s not,” you replied softly, and before you knew it, Sunghoon was scooping you up again for another kiss.

You were used to being in control.

Boardrooms fell silent whenever you walked in. People listened when you spoke. Decisions were set the moment you made them. Even now, in Sunghoon’s bedroom with the door closed and the city humming somewhere across the sea, you expected that familiar balance to tilt in your favor.

But it didn’t.

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes wide and brows furrowed at Sunghoon who just stopped kissing you out of nowhere.

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant and relaxed. “We need to slow down.”

“What?” you demanded, thoroughly confused. “What do you mean? This was your idea.”

“It is, but I need to know we’re on the same page here,” he said, smiling casually, but the firm grip of his hands on your hips told you he was restraining himself hard.

“I thought we made that clear?”

“No. What we did was stare into each other’s eyes and use vague words,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling over. “Park Sunghoon, I swear to God if you don’t kiss me right no—”

He crashed his lips into yours, shutting you up completely. Your body reacted immediately, heat and need shooting up through your core. Sunghoon’s long fingers tangled into your hair, tugging firmly until a moan escaped from your lips. He took this chance to shove his tongue into your open mouth. You pulled him even closer, breasts pressing against his broad chest.

His kisses trailed to your jaw, one hand slipping under your shirt to touch the skin of your waist. You gasped when his mouth latched to your neck, sucking and nipping.

“Hoon,” you said, tapping his shoulders. “Take me to the bed.”

Sunghoon pulled away just enough to press his forehead against you, smirking. “Is that an order?” he rasped, his hand underneath your shirt now moving to slip past your bra.

“No?” you breathed, holding back a moan when he gave your nipple a gentle squeeze. “Is it?”

“It better not be,” he whispered into your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin. He took your wrists  “I’ll allow that at work, but don’t think for one second that I’m gonna let you tell me what to do in my room…”

He kissed your neck, making your skin shiver in the best way. “Or on my bed,” he added, licking your throat.

You moaned out his name, but he was quick to press a finger on your lips. “Shush, love. This may be a big house, but the walls here are thin.”

“Sunghoon…” you purred, and he cupped your cheek gently, then pressed a long, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Be quiet, alright?” he said, smiling before disappearing from your line of sight.

You were confused for a fraction of a second. Then you felt your skirt being lifted, followed by something pressing on your clothed cunt without warning.

You gasped, realizing belatedly that it was Sunghoon’s nose. You felt him take a long sniff, hand wrapping around your thigh. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and he let out a growl the likes of which you’d never heard before.

A second later, he was devouring you, relentless and insatiable, leaving you trembling under his touch. Your grip on his hair tightened, your knees were threatening to give out with every lick. If it wasn’t for his tight hold around your legs, you would have collapsed on the floor already.

Sunghoon slipped a finger into you, without warning, making you gasp. He rose to his feet, finger still inside you, his other hand pushing loose hair behind your ear as he shushed you gently. 

“The entire house is gonna hear you, and they’re gonna know exactly what’s going on in here,” he said, as if it wasn’t his fingering that was making you make all these noises.

But you listened anyway, biting down your lower lip, tears pricking at your eyelids when he pushed a second finger in. You buried your face on his chest, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed you closer to the edge

Sunghoon pressed his lips on the side of your head, shushing you gently while still brutally ramming his fingers in and out of your sex.

Then you felt that familiar knot twisting low in your belly, threatening to come undone. Your breathing turned erratic, breasts falling and rising rapidly as you braced for an orgasm. Sunghoon saw that, kissed your cheek, and moved harder amd faster. 

His fingers were cramping, but the delightful look on your face was spurring him on. He couldn’t wait to see the beautiful face you’d make when it’s finally him drilling into your sweet cunt. Just thinking about it was making his cock throb—hard and hot, still trapped in his pants.

“Hoon, I’m—” you cut yourself off, gasping, body jerking, hands on his shoulders gripping tighter as a wave of orgasmm surged through you.

Then you fell limp against Sunghoon, who held you steadily. He kissed you again because… well because he just couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, could he? His head was clouded, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to fuck your brains out.

So he lifted your thighs, wrapped your legs around his legs and carried you over to the bed.

You fell on the mattress with a bounce, still out of breath from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Sunghoon crawled over you, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Still wanna tell me what to do?” he asked, mouth hovering just above yours.

You hesitated. That hesitation made him smile. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, kissing you again. 

His hand pinned your wrist above your head, the other tracing down your side like he was rewriting the rules you lived by. He gathered the hem of your sweater, yanking it up and over your head, before crashing his lips back to yours.

Your skirt and stockings followed immediately after, his hands settling on your thighs, spreading them wide enough for him to marvel at the sight of your wet pussy.

“Like what you’re seeing?” you asked, confidence spiking because Sunghoon was looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.

He huffed an amused laugh, hand tracing your thigh. “Oh, I love it. You have no idea.”

When was the last time you felt this kind of intense desire and uninhibited pleasure? You couldn’t even remember. Not that it mattered. Sunghoon was here to rock your entire world tonight, with that rock-hard, standing tall, deliciously girthy manhood that had just sprang free from the confines of his boxers.

You held your breath when he positioned himself between your legs, licking a stripe on his hands and coating his cock with the slick. Your fingers curled into the sheets as he pressed into you slowly, the earlier orgasm making him slide smoothly, but the stretch made you whimper.

“Don’t make me cover that mouth myself,” he warned, grinning so sweetly, unaware of the surge of pleasure that just shot through you when he said those words.

He bottomed out with a groan, his body settling over yours as he collected himself. His hair brushed your face as he moaned against your chest, muttering curses under his breath.

Meanwhile, you were catching your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Sunghoon, I need you to move. Please. Please. Please,” you’d basically pleaded.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, lifting his head to meet your gaze and plant a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll allow it because you asked nicely,” he quipped, pulling out for a second just before thrusting into you.

Your chest rose and fell against his, nerves dancing in sensations his every move was sending through your body. Your fingers tangled, your breaths mingled, heat lingered in every glance, and every brush of skin. You clung to him, losing track of everything except his touch and the way he held you close.

The world had narrowed to the feeling of him against you, the pull and the push—especially the push. Your lower lip stung from biting too hard to keep yourself quiet. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, echoing in his.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, lips grazing your temple, and the shiver that ran down your spine was delightful and hot. 

“You are most beautiful,” he whispered, eyes locked with yours, filled with sincerity and something tender… something that looked a lot like love.

Snow kept falling outside, and somewhere between the haze of lust and warmth, you were sure that whatever came next would leave both of you ruined in the best possible way. But at the same time, you realized you wouldn’t have wanted to stop even if you could.

You woke up to Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around you, his warmth seeping through the blankets, his scent lingering in your hair and on your clothes. He was awake, head propped on one hand, watching you with that half-smile that made your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, embarrassed, burying your face against his shoulder.

“Keeping my eyes on you in case this turns out to be a dream and you disappear,” he said in one breath, brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear.

You grinned, snuggling closer. “That’s so corny.”

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, savoring the warmth and the way his hand traced idle patterns along your side. But the inevitability of the morning eventually caught up with you. It’s Christmas Day. By now, the rest of the family would be gathered downstairs, waiting to open gifts and celebrate some more.

“Come on. You should see what I got you,” he said, sitting up. “It’s in a red box with a shiny green ribbon on it.”

“You got me something?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

Sunghoon looked at you like the answer should have been obvious. “Of course, I got you something. It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to— wait…” he paused, narrowing his eyes at you. “You didn’t get me anything, did you?”

You smiled sheepishly, and Sunghoon’s jaw dropped. But then he shrugged, reached to cup your face, and grinned.

“It’s okay. I think I received my best Christmas gift yet,” he chimed, leaning in to kiss you.

You ended up cuddling in bed again. Sunghoon was relentless, kissing the back of your neck, tugging your hands, soft murmurs of promises that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. Getting up after that was slow. Clothes, brushing teeth, and somehow, through a haze of laughter, stolen kisses, and whispers, you managed to get ready.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, standing behind you in front of the mirror and wrapping his arms around.

“Thanks. I figured I should try harder if I’m gonna date someone so otherworldly handsome,” you replied, turning to face him, arms finding their way around his neck.

Sunghoon grinned, clearly pleased with what he just heard. “You don’t need to. You’re already too beautiful for someone like me.”

You rolled your eyes, not buying it. “You clearly don’t understand just how beautiful you are, Park Sunghoon.”

He kissed you again, and you had to squirm out of his hold and walk out of the room first or you’d spend the whole morning locked in the bedroom with him.

The first thing you noticed when you reached the bottom of the stairs was the silence. The usual mayhem of children squealing and zooming around, adults chattering, holiday music in the background—it was all gone. Only the adults were there, standing rigidly, staring at the two of you.

Your stomach dropped. Something was wrong, you could feel it in your bones.

Sunghoon stepped closer, taking your hand in his. “What’s going on?”

No one answered. Then his mom stepped forward, her smile tight, eyes not quite meeting his. She shoved a piece of paper into his hands, and you immediately recognized your carefully constructed contract even before reading the words.

“What is the meaning of that?” his mom asked, her voice small and hesitant. “Hoon, tell us right now. Why is there a document like that in your bedroom?”

The words didn’t register at first. The paper in his hands felt heavy, like it had gravity all its own. You tried to breathe but your chest felt hollow.

Sunghoon opened his mouth, searching for the right words, and your heart hammered in sympathy and panic. “We… I can explain…”

Voices erupted around you, overlapping, frantic and sharp. Someone asked why he did this. Another said this was unnecessary and that he didn’t have to deceive everyone. One voice asked if he had any motive. Another asked if he thought of this family as a joke.

You barely made sense of it, caught between the tidal wave of accusations, most of them being directed at Sunghoon. He kept his hand around yours, holding you tight and shielding you with his body as his family demanded answers from him. The rest of the room seemed to tilt and spin. You barely heard him try to speak again; his words were drowned out by questions, accusations, demands—all of it directed at him.

Finally, you found your voice, loud and firm, “It’s my fault.”

All eyes turned toward you, stunned at your words. You took in their confused faces, then exhaled sharply. 

“I made him do this,” you added, tugging your hand away from Sunghoon’s grasp. “There was a… a situation,” you began to explain, choosing your words carefully. 

“A supposedly one-off situation that unexpectedly spiraled out of control. And I know, we could have avoided this by being honest from the get-go but…” Your gaze swept the room and settled on your grandma in the corner. You thought she’d look angry, but all you could see on her face was sympathy. “But we didn’t. We couldn’t.”

You flattened your lips into a smile, still directed at your grandmother. “Not when it was the first time in a long time that I saw someone smile as brightly as she did when she heard I had a fiancee.”

Your Grandma’s hand flew to her mouth, his brows furrowing, and she looked away. You turned to the rest of Sunghoon’s family. To his Nana, to his parents, his aunts and uncles—the very people who welcomed you warmly into their home.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I have my reasons, but they’re all just excuses. Selfish excuses. I shouldn’t have dragged your entire family into this. I wouldn’t have,” you paused, taking a deep breath and turning to Sunghoon. “I wouldn’t have if I had known just how much you loved Sunghoon.”

You turned to everyone again. Nana’s hand was on her chest, Sunghoon’s mom was covering her mouth in shock.

“So don’t blame him. It’s not his fault. He’s a really good man,” you added, smiling bitterly. “He just couldn’t say no to his Medusa of a boss who promised him a raise and regularization if he agreed to do this.” 

“Stop,” Sunghoon said, taking your hand. “I didn’t agree to this because of that—”

“It’s okay, Secretary Park,” you interrupted, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry for ruining your Christmas. I’ll leave,” you said, voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. You glanced at Nana, and the words escaped almost like a prayer: “You have a wonderful family. I’m sorry. I wish we didn’t have to meet like this.”

And with that, you walked out, leaving Sunghoon rooted in place, the paper still in his hand, the room swirling with stunned silence.

Before you knew it, you were sinking into your seat on the plane, the engines vibrating softly beneath you. Beside you, your grandma was perfectly composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared out the window at the receding tarmac.

Sunghoon’s family had tried to make you stay. Gentle pleas, promises to table the matter of your deceit and unpack it properly. But you knew they were only being polite. That was just the kind of family they were, too nice for their own good.

You stared at the screen in front of you, counting the buttons, the logos stamped into the leather, your thoughts spinning in circles. Finally, you broke the quiet.

“Grandma…” Your voice was small, tentative. “Why aren’t you mad?”

Her calm eyes met yours. “Why would I be mad?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I knew everything from the beginning.”

Your chest tightened. “You did?”

She nodded serenely. “Of course. You thought you were so clever, but you forgot that I taught you how to use that intelligent brain of yours.”

You blinked. “Wait… what? How?”

Grandma leaned back, unbothered by your wide-eyed stare. “My dear, with whom do you think I set you up with on that last blind date I begged you to go to?”

Your stomach dropped. “That… that was… No way.” You chuckled, in denial. “It can’t have been Sunghoon.”

“Oh, but it was,” she said, as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. “I kept telling you I knew his family. But you wouldn’t even give a second to hear me out. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in that hotel lobby, calling Park Sunghoon your fiancee.”

At this point, your heart beat has turned erratic. “If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was trying to see how far you were willing to take this charade. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but Sunghoon asked me to play along, so I did,” she explained.

You turned sharply to face her, incredulous. “Sunghoon knew that you knew?”

“Yes. He was confident he could make you fall in love and turn this pseudorelationship into a real thing. Sunhee and I had so much fun watching you struggle to maintain a face all week.”

Your jaw dropped. “Who else knows?”

“No one else, as far as I know.” Her hand rested gently over yours. “My dear, you’re clearly overwhelmed right now. Let’s talk about this later.”

You slumped back in your seat, staring out the window at the clouds streaked with gold from the rising sun, your mind buzzing. She knew. Nana knew. Sunghoon knew they knew. And somehow, that knowledge made the entire avalanche of the past twenty-four hours feel both heavier and… a little lighter.

“What are you gonna do now, child?” your grandma asked, and honestly? You have no idea.

Sunghoon first met you when he was ten.

It was summer, hot and loud and bright in the way summers only feel when you’re a kid. His kite had gotten stuck in a tree at the park, and he’d decided that climbing it himself was a good idea. 

But he was wrong. He slipped on the way down, scraped his knee, and sat there sniffing quietly, holding back his tears, more embarrassed than hurt.

Then you appeared out of nowhere, crouched in front of him, asked if he could stand, and when he said no, you sighed like an adult who’d already dealt with worse problems than a bleeding knee. 

After covering his knee with a cartoon Band Aid from your purse, you climbed the tree yourself and brought the kite down like it was nothing.

You were taller than him back then. Probably smarter, and more mature. And when you handed the kite to him and smiled, all he could think was that you were pretty. Like an angel.

He never saw you again after that day. Life moved on, as it does. He went to school, made friends, and had growth spurts. The memory of you drifted to the back of his mind, filed away with other half-remembered moments from childhood.

Until college.

He didn’t recognize you at first. Years had a way of blurring faces, and he almost walked past you at the freshman welcome party until you laughed. Suddenly he was ten again, at the park with a scraped knee and a kite in his hands.

You’d grown prettier, smarter, and more graceful. He was much much taller than you now, but the difference in height only made Sunghoon think you were cute.

He hadn’t even wanted to attend this party. He’d only gone because his cousin promised to cover his chores for a month if he showed up. Sunghoon wasn’t naïve—he knew his cousin wanted him there as decoration. He’d grown into his looks by then, and he was ‘handsome’, something people never let him forget, even when he wished they would.

But that night, for the first time in his life, he thought maybe he could use his looks for something other than being stared at. Maybe he could use it to charm his way into your contacts.

He planned to talk to you. Just to say ‘hi’. Maybe ask if you remembered him from all those summers ago. Or maybe he didn’t need to bring up the past at all. He could just talk to you. Say something normal. Ask for your number.

He stood near the drinks table, psyching himself up. But when the moment came, his nerves got the better of him. So he took a shot of soju.

Liquid courage, he told himself.

Then another. Then a third, because his heart was still beating too fast and you were laughing again and seeing that was making it hard for him to breathe.

By the fourth, his cousin was asking if he was okay. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, eyes locked on you a few tables away. 

His cousin poured a shot for himself, and Sunghoon snatched it away, downing it straight just to see if it would make him less nervous.

Before he knew it, he was already wasted, slumped over a table, cheek pressed to cold plastic. Someone had drawn something obscene on his hand. The party was over, and you were gone.

He lay there for a long moment, staring at a bottle, wondering how he’d managed to mess it up without ever actually trying.

After that, he saw you everywhere. The library, the quad, the cafeteria line. Sometimes alone, sometimes surrounded by people. You never noticed him, and he never pushed himself into your space.

Then one afternoon, he saw you holding hands with someone. Apparently, you’d started seeing this guy from the Liberal Arts department. That night, he went back to his dorm, shut the door, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling.

His cousin glanced over. “What’s up with you? You look like you just got dumped”

“I might as well have been,” Sunghoon said, voice flat. He turned his face into his pillow and let himself feel stupid for exactly five minutes.

Then he moved on because that was just life. He was happy that you were happy.

He dipped his own toes in the dating pool. Dated seriously, even. He laughed, fell in and out of love, learned what he liked and didn’t. You became a fond thought in the back of his head, not a fixation. And also something his friends teased him about every now and then.

Then senior year came. He heard you’d broken up, and realized he still liked you. So he thought about trying again.

He did the same thing without realizing: took shots for liquid courage. One too many shots, obviously. And passed out on a couch before he could say your name, obviously.

Senior year came and went. Graduation followed. He figured that was that. Some people were just meant to be memories.

And his life after college had already been mapped out for him. Sunghoon worked long hours in his family’s corporation. He learned how to sit through meetings without showing boredom, how to be sharp without being cruel. He dated when he had time, stopped when he didn’t. He built a reputation he hadn’t asked for but carried well enough.

Every once in a while, your name surfaced not from memory, but from screens. LinkedIn updates. A promotion. An article shared by someone else. Your company’s name appeared frequently in industry chatter. You weren’t loud online. You had Instagram but didn’t post much.

He nodded at those updates like they were news about someone he once knew well.

Years later, when he heard about a potential partnership with your company, he volunteered to handle it without hesitation. It wasn’t even his division, but he argued his case until he won. 

He told everyone else that it was professional curiosity. Strategic interest. Nothing else. In reality, he thought maybe this would finally put him in the same room as you again.

But it didn’t. Nana collapsed. That family emergency pulled him away the day of the meeting, and the opportunity slipped through his fingers. Life, once again, had other plans. He never made it to the meeting. Someone else took over. The partnership went through anyway, handled efficiently, just not by him.

You stayed untouchable and unseen. And of course, he moved on again.

Years passed. Nana recovered and became sharper than ever. She mentioned your name casually over tea.

“Her grandma’s worried,” she said. “She thinks that brilliant granddaughter of hers works too much. She called, asking if I knew someone suitable.”

“Someone suitable? A husband?” Sunghoon’s mom asked.

He froze in his seat, hand hovering as he reached for his teacup.

“Yes,” Nana continued, watching him carefully over the rim of her cup. “I told her I might know someone, but I don’t approve of arranged marriages.”

Sunghoon’s mom glanced at him too, the only man in the family who hasn’t married yet. “It would be nice. I heard she’s very intelligent and pretty. But I’m a fan of true love too, mama. These days they call it ‘organic encounter’.”

That night, Sunghoon stared at his ceiling for a long time and made a decision.

He left his job, much to his family’s dismay. They managed to reel him in with his contract, but as soon as that was over, Sunghoon was out. He moved cities. Applied to your company hoping he’d get closer to you through work. But te only position open was an internship. He took it anyway.

It was a humbling position. Educational. Occasionally ridiculous, and nowhere near you. Apparently interns didn’t meet CEOs on the reg.

So for months, you were just a name, a presence on another floor. Interns and other employees often talked about you—brilliant, dedicated, but formidable and terrifying. Medusa, they called you. 

Sunghoon would find himself standing up for you against men in his department who uttered inappropriate comments. Especially those who questioned your right to sit in the CEO’s office.

And then one Tuesday morning, Sunghoon was at the reception desk, sorting documents he wasn’t technically supposed to touch yet, when the elevators chimed.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t really need to. But then he heard a familiar voice calling him by name.

“Park Sunghoon?” the voice repeated, making him look up and freeze.

Your grandmother stood at the front desk, elegant as always. She looked exactly the way Sunghoon remembered her from childhood. She leaned on her cane more out of habit than necessity, eyes sharp as they swept his face. “Is that you, dear boy?”

Sunghoon straightened instinctively, unsure why his heart had started beating faster. He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

A pleased smile spread across her face. “Well,” she said lightly, tapping her cane against the floor once. “I thought so.

My, how much you’re grown.”

His mouth went dry. “You remember me?”

She laughed softly. “Of course I do. What are you doing here? Last I heard you were Executive Director at your family’s company.”

Sunghoon hesitated. Then he sighed, knowing full well how hard it was gonna be to lie to your grandma. “I think we’re gonna need to sit down if I’m to answer that question.”

Your Grandma seemed to understand something. “Come to tea this Sunday. Let’s unpack whatever that is.”

And Sunghoon did meet with your grandma that Sunday. And he confessed that he was there because of you. After hours of talking about you, your grandma decided to set him up on a blind date with you.

To say he was thrilled was an understatement. Sunghoon was over the moon. He couldn’t wait for the day to come. Though Grandma did warn him that she had a habit of not showing up to these dates. He was still looking forward to it, hoping your grandma stayed true to her words when she said she would try to convince you.

Then Becca came by the intern lounge, asking if anyone wanted to be your temporary secretary while she was on maternity leave.

“For Medusa?” someone murmured quietly. Silence followed, and interns exchanged nervous glances. Sunghoon was the only one who raised his hand.

Becca stared at him. “I need to know if you’re serious about this.”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna be paid a regular’s rate, but it’s not gonna be an easy task.”

“I know. I can handle it.”

She sighed. “Fine. No backing out at the last minute, alright?” she said, pointing her pen at him. “Follow me. Training starts now.”

Sunghoon trained for a week, learning schedules and systems, familiarizing himself with important names and contacts, copying the cadence of your emails. All this while stealing glances into your office, or staring a little too long whenever you passed by.  

He reminded himself to be normal. To not let the past—or the crush—color the present. Even though it had clearly already taken over his entire world.

And then came the day Sunghoon was finally getting introduced to you. Becca had given him the head’s up the day before, and he took an extra hour getting ready the next day.

He stood with Becca in your office, patiently waiting for you to walk into those heavy glass doors. When you did, Sunghoon straightened up. Luckily that time, he didn’t get drunk or pass out anymore. Everything after that was an experience Sunghoon would never forget.

And now, over a month later, there he was, standing just inside your office, asking you to take him back.

It was the 29th. Just two days before New Year’s Day and four days since the whole fiasco at the Park Estate. Grandma and Nana had invited you out on a brunch where you apologized—more than once. For the lies. For leaving. For ruining Christmas. 

Nana waved it all off with a soft laugh, insisting none of it mattered as much as you thought it did. “We’ve seen worse.”

She said the family wasn’t really angry, just shocked. Said that if you’d stayed, things wou;d’ve been resolved over breakfast and hot cocoa, the way they always did.

“What’s done is done,” your grandma had said simply, stirring her coffee. “At least you learned a lesson from this experience.”

You didn’t bring up Sunghoon. You couldn’t, not after how vague things were left between you. The grandmas seemed to understand that the subject was touchy and decided not to bring it up either.

After brunch, you told them you had something for Nana—and for everyone back home. It had arrived at the office that morning, and that was how the three of you ended up there instead of going straight home.You drove back to the office with the city humming around you, hands steady on the wheel despite everything sitting heavy in your chest.

They followed you into the building where employees greeted your grandma at every turn, surprised to see THE big boss parading the halls. You heard Nana quip about your grandma building an empire through inflicting fear upon her people, and laughed along when they did.

But that laughter died down the moment you stepped out of the elevator and found Park Sunghoon standing near reception, hands clasped loosely in front of him, jacket still on like he hadn’t been sure whether to stay or leave. He looked up the moment the elevator opened, like he’d been waiting for it.

For a second, no one moved. Your brows furrowed, relief and confusion washing over you. Relief because four days felt too long and you’d missed him the whole time. Confusion because what was he doing there? And why did he wait until now to come see you?

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked.

He picked up a clear bag from the floor and lifted it for you to see. “You didn’t get to see what I got you,” he said and your eyes locked on the red giftbox with a green ribbon inside the clear bag.

Your grandma squeezed your arm gently. “We’ll give you two a moment.”

Nana was already nodding, amused. “Yes. Let’s let the kids sort it out.”

You didn’t protest, letting them walk back into the elevator, muttering and giggling. The office fell quiet. You and Sunghoon were staring at each other while the rest of the people on that floor held their breath. You could feel their eyes, watching and waiting for whatever was about to go down.

You exhaled and started walking toward your office. Sunghoon followed silently behind. You didn’t say anything until you were inside your office, the door clicking shut behind you. It was quieter here, insulated from the rest of the floor.

You turned to face him. “My grandma told me something about you,” you said, not elaborating because he probably already knows what you mean. “Is it true?

“It is,” he answered quickly.

You let out a slow breath. “So you liked me even before I asked you to be my fake fiancee?”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Oh, I liked you longer than that.” 

Your heart stuttered, just before beating wildly in your chest.

“When we were kids, when we were in college… I liked you in different ways, at different stages of my life.” He met your eyes fully. “And now… Now I’m in love with you.”

You kept your voice steady, hands clenching at your sides as you tried your best not to just go ahead and jump in his arms. “Why didn’t you come see me sooner?”

“I tried, but I didn’t really get a chance. You were in a relationship with this dude in college—”

“No, I meant after we left the island on Christmas day,” you interrupted.

Sunghoon paused, realization dawning on him. “Oh. Oh, I wanted to,” he said. “But no one was allowed to leave the island until the holidays were over. That’s not negotiable in my family. And I needed to sort things out. With them. With myself. I didn’t want to come to you half-done.”

You laughed under your breath. “Do you always have to do things properly?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to do this one right.”

Silence fell between you. You crossed your arms, still unsure what to do, how to navigate this. “I’m sorry,” you said first, because you had to. He deserved it. “For leaving like that. For not letting you say anything.”

He shook his head. “I would’ve followed you anyway.”

“So?” you asked, heat creeping up your neck. “What now?”

Sunghoon took one tentative step closer. “Well, my new year’s resolution is to kiss you everyday for the rest of my life.”

You huffed a laugh, caught off guard. “That’s a… very specific commitment.”

“I’m very committed to it.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Sunghoon watched with a fond smile, just before silence came again. You were both standing at the edge of something you didn’t want to rush or ruin.

“Well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you just gonna stand there all day or do I have to kiss you myself?”

Sunghoon’s mouth stretched into the biggest, happiest smile you’d ever seen on a man. He crossed the distance between you in one step, then wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, instinctively, like it was something your body had been waiting for longer than your mind wanted to admit.

Then he kissed you. A kiss that answered everything, one that didn’t ask questions anymore. For a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. But only for a moment because three seconds later, the sound of clapping, cheers, and hooting erupted around the office.

Startled, you pulled back just enough to see past his shoulder and realized that the entire floor had been watching from outside the clear glass walls of your office.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, looking at Sunghoon and then laughing. “Do you think they heard you confess your love for me?” you teased.

Sunghoon glanced around, then back at you, utterly unbothered. “I don’t care,” he said, scooping you up and kissing you again.

The office erupted all over again, a whole floor of employees witnessing the day you and Sunghoon made a scene professing love like you were in a movie.

And honestly? You didn’t care either.

[fin]

[sunghoon-my-dear]

So cute

[enhaflixer]

psh - king of tears.

Chaebol Husband!Sunghoon | Queen of Tears AU FULL FIC

📌 summary: your marriage to park sunghoon was supposed to be a fairytale—until it wasn’t. now it’s cold stares across the dinner table, separate bedrooms in a mansion too big for the both of you, and divorce papers waiting to be signed. you were ready to walk away. he let you. so why does he look at you like he’s the one who lost everything?

word count: 20K genre: angst | slow burn | second chance romance | marriage in crisis | Queen of Tears AU | SMUT ANGST FLUFF (in that order) content warnings (explicit, minors dni!):  a marriage falling apart but neither of you can let go, divorce papers as a weapon but neither of you sign them first, staring at an empty side of the bed and pretending it doesn’t hurt, pregnancy, watching him struggle alone but being too proud to help, , high society pressure, and pretending everything is fine when it’s not, angst-heavy sex (sex while crying, sex while angry, sex while pretending it doesn’t mean anything) "we’re supposed to be over, so why are you still fucking me like you love me?" breathless, mentions of a miscarriage, desperate sunghoon (bc when he breaks, he breaks) sunghoon is sick, weak, exhausted—but still strong enough to pin you down "i don’t love you anymore." // "then stop moaning my name.", luxury penthouse sex but it’s tragic, a hand around your throat but it’s not just about control—it’s about possession, he fucks you like he’s trying to remind you who you belong to, aftercare that isn’t really aftercare bc he still won’t say he loves you,

The room is filled with laughter, delicate clinks of fine china and crystal flutes, and the low hum of a jazz quartet playing something elegant and forgettable in the background. The city’s elite have gathered here tonight—not just business moguls, but socialites, investors, and politicians, all dressed in designer labels, all engaged in carefully curated conversations.

The air is thick with power and wealth, a reminder of the world you and Sunghoon exist in. A world where appearances matter more than emotions, where a marriage is not just about love, but about status, about alliances.

You’re used to this now—the expectations, the smiles, the weight of scrutiny disguised as admiration. You’ve mastered the art of being Park Sunghoon’s wife.

Sunghoon stands beside you, dressed in a sleek black suit, looking every bit the composed, untouchable CEO that people admire and envy in equal measure. His features are as sharp as ever, but there’s something distant in his gaze, something almost clinical in the way his hand rests lightly against the small of your back.

To an outsider, it’s a gesture of affection. A claim. A reminder that you belong to each other.

To you, it’s just for show.

"Smile."

His voice is low, quiet enough that no one else hears. It’s not a request. It’s a command.

Your lips curl into something effortless, something practiced. It’s not real, but it doesn’t need to be.

"Ah, our favorite couple has arrived," a familiar voice calls from across the room.

Turning toward the source, you’re met with the warm but calculating gaze of Chairman Park, Sunghoon’s father. His mother stands beside him, dressed immaculately as always, a refined smile on her lips.

"We were wondering when you two would make your grand entrance," she says smoothly, reaching out to take your hands in hers.

Her grip is light, delicate. Deceptive.

"You look beautiful, dear," she adds, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe.

You already know she’s assessing. Cataloging. Comparing you to the polished, obedient daughter-in-law she expected you to be.

Sunghoon’s father, however, has other interests.

"You’re glowing tonight," Chairman Park remarks, taking a sip of his whiskey. His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. "It must be a sign that we’ll be hearing good news soon."

You barely have time to process his words before another voice chimes in—one of Sunghoon’s aunts, a woman who has made it her life’s mission to interrogate you at every family gathering.

"Yes, yes!" she gushes, already leaning in as if she’s about to hear a confession. "It’s been what? three years since the wedding? We were just saying the other day how we still haven’t heard any news!"

There it is. The question that always comes, in one form or another.

The polite, well-mannered, socially acceptable way of asking: Why haven’t you given him a child yet?

You see it before you hear it—the way Sunghoon’s fingers tighten around his champagne flute, the subtle twitch in his jaw. But he doesn’t say anything.

Of course, he doesn’t.

So you do what you always do. You smile. You deflect. You play your part.

"Work keeps us busy," you say smoothly, taking a slow sip of champagne. "There’s still so much we want to accomplish first."

The aunt clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Ah, but what’s all this success without a family to share it with?"

You feel it then—the weight of your in-laws’ eyes on you, the expectation pressing against your ribs like an iron cage.

Sunghoon’s mother hums, a soft, carefully measured sound. "Children bring a different kind of happiness," she says, voice light but laced with meaning. "Of course, it’s ultimately your decision… but I do hope you aren’t waiting too long."

Another aunt leans in, faux sympathy dripping from her tone. "There aren’t any problems, are there?"

It’s a dagger cloaked in silk. The insinuation. The unspoken judgment.

You don’t have to look at Sunghoon to know he’s bristling beside you. You can feel the tension in his silence.

Still, he says nothing.

The moment stretches, uncomfortable and suffocating. And then—

A soft laugh. Controlled. Collected.

Sunghoon turns his head slightly, his expression unreadable as he finally speaks.

"We appreciate your concern," he says, voice smooth as glass. "But when we have something to share, you’ll be the first to know."

There’s nothing in his tone that suggests anger, but the way his mother’s lips press together ever so slightly tells you she’s caught the warning beneath his words.

The conversation shifts, flowing into another topic, but you no longer hear it. You’re still holding your champagne flute, fingers gripping the stem a little too tightly.

Sunghoon doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

The meal is extravagant, an elaborate showcase of wealth and refinement. Each course is served with meticulous precision, arriving in waves of delicate flavors and carefully plated masterpieces. Crystal glasses remain full, refilled before they ever have the chance to empty, while waitstaff glide through the room with the kind of quiet efficiency that only comes from years of training. Around you, conversation flows as smoothly as the wine, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter from tables where people have had just enough to drink to let their guard down.

The atmosphere is lively, engaging. A room filled with the kind of people who measure success in numbers and influence rather than in anything tangible like love or happiness.

You and Sunghoon don’t speak.

It isn’t new.

It’s been months—maybe even longer—since you’ve had a real conversation. These events used to be something you faced together, an exhausting but necessary part of maintaining appearances in your world. There was a time when he would lean in close, whisper something wry against the shell of your ear just to make you laugh, his hand resting on your thigh beneath the table as a silent reminder that, no matter how long the evening stretched, you would leave together.

Now, his presence beside you feels like nothing more than habit. The weight of expectation.

To everyone else, you are still Park Sunghoon’s wife—flawless and poised, an extension of his success, the perfect image of a woman who belongs at his side. But to each other, you are barely anything at all.

You watch as he listens intently to the conversation at hand, nodding along as one of his board members drones on about upcoming market trends. His features remain unreadable, his fingers steady as he lifts his glass to his lips, sipping at his wine without a second thought. His ability to be present yet completely unreachable is something you once admired about him. Now, it’s something that drives you insane.

At some point during the meal, while the conversation has drifted toward a discussion on recent company acquisitions, a new voice cuts through the air.

"You remember Soojin, don’t you?"

It’s not a question so much as a strategic opening, delivered with the practiced ease of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.

You shift slightly, already knowing where this is going before you even turn your head. Sunghoon’s mother is smiling, her expression warm and pleasant in the way that only someone raised in high society can master. It is a look that has fooled many, but not you. You’ve spent too many years in her presence to mistake it for anything but a well-placed maneuver.

Her gaze flickers toward a table across the room, drawing your attention to the woman seated there. Soojin.

She is beautiful in the way that women in your world are expected to be—polished, refined, her makeup flawless, her hair styled to perfection. The kind of woman who commands attention without even trying.

The kind of woman Sunghoon’s mother would have preferred as her daughter-in-law.

"Her father’s company just finalized a deal with ours," she continues, lifting her glass to her lips. "It’s an impressive partnership."

You say nothing.

She doesn’t need you to.

"She’s always been such a sweet girl," she adds, her smile never faltering. "Smart. Beautiful. And her family is so well-connected."

The words are light, conversational, but the weight of them is suffocating.

She doesn’t say it outright, but the message is clear.

You are not the only option.

There are women who would make the perfect Mrs. Park—women who would be better suited for the role, who would know how to uphold the family name, who would understand the responsibilities that come with being married to someone like Sunghoon.

Women who would not have made the mistakes you did.

Your grip tightens around your fork.

You keep your expression neutral, refusing to react. You won’t give her the satisfaction. You won’t let her see that the words sting in a way they shouldn’t, that they burrow beneath your skin, scraping against wounds that never quite healed.

"I’m aware," Sunghoon says, finally setting his wine glass down with deliberate ease.

Two words. Nothing more.

His mother studies him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiles again, as if the moment never happened.

The conversation moves forward.

You exhale slowly, setting your glass down, your fingers still curled around the delicate stem. No reassurance. No defense. No effort to correct what was just implied.

I’m aware.

A bitter taste lingers on your tongue, but you swallow it down, lifting your chin slightly as you redirect your attention to the meal in front of you.

You already know how this night will end. The same way it always does. With silence.

-

The moment you step inside the penthouse, the carefully constructed facade of the evening begins to crumble. The sterile glow of the overhead lights does little to ease the weight pressing against your chest, the silence between you and Sunghoon thick with something sharp, something unsaid.

You hear the quiet rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over the arm of a chair before undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt. His movements are methodical, controlled, as if he’s following a script that no longer holds any meaning.

You should keep walking. You should disappear into the bathroom, wash the night off your skin, lock yourself behind a door like you have so many nights before. But instead, you linger, fingers still curled around the strap of your bag, your gaze tracing the familiar lines of his back, the tension in his shoulders.

"You didn’t say anything."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge buried beneath the exhaustion.

Sunghoon doesn’t turn. "About what?"

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "About what?" you repeat, laughter bubbling up, bitter and humorless. "About your mother. About your aunts. About all of them sitting there, questioning me like I’m some failed investment."

A pause.

Then, finally, he glances over his shoulder. "What did you want me to say?"

The way he says it—steady, detached, devoid of any real curiosity—makes your stomach twist.

"Anything," you say, because that’s the truth of it. You just wanted something.

His lips press together briefly before he turns back toward the dresser, rolling up his sleeves. "It wouldn’t have changed anything."

And there it is.

That unbearable indifference.

The quiet, unshaken finality of a man who has already made peace with his own silence.

It shouldn’t feel like a slap to the face, but it does.

"You never fight for anything," you whisper, voice barely audible over the hum of the city outside.

He doesn’t say a word, but you can feel it—the way his gaze trails over your bare skin, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s holding himself back.

It only takes a step. One step forward, and everything snaps.

His hands are on you before you can think—gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body bleeding into yours. His mouth crashes against yours, rough, unyielding, a kiss that isn’t sweet or tender, but desperate, punishing. You gasp against him, your fingers tangling in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he presses you back against the dresser.

"You always do this," he mutters against your lips, his breath hot, his voice sharp. "Come to me when you need to forget."

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing them apart with ease. He’s impatient, reckless, fingers slipping beneath the lace of your panties, dragging them down before you can protest. A sharp inhale leaves your lips as he presses two fingers against your clit, circling slow, teasing, just enough to make your hips jerk forward.

"Already wet," he muses, dragging his fingers through your slick folds. His tone is mocking, but his voice is hoarse, strained. "That desperate for me?"

You bite down on your lower lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But your body betrays you, hips rolling against his hand, chasing the friction that he’s refusing to give.

Sunghoon chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. Just something bitter, something dark.

Without warning, he presses two fingers inside you, stretching you open with a slow, deliberate pace. Your breath hitches, nails digging into his shoulders as he curls his fingers, stroking the spot that makes your knees tremble.

"You can pretend all you want," he murmurs against your throat, his lips trailing down, teeth scraping against your skin. "But your body knows who it belongs to."

His free hand moves to your chest, fingers tweaking your nipple, rolling it between his fingers before his mouth replaces them, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. You arch into him, a whimper slipping past your lips, your thighs tightening around his wrist.

"Sunghoon," you gasp, a plea or a warning—you’re not sure.

He pulls away, his fingers slipping from you, leaving you empty and aching. Before you can protest, he turns you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the dresser, his body crowding you from behind. His hands roam your body, over the swell of your ass, down to your thighs, spreading them apart as he presses the hard length of his cock against your heat.

You exhale sharply as he grips your hips, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick before pressing forward. The stretch is sharp, deep, and you gasp, gripping the edge of the dresser as he sinks into you, inch by inch, filling you completely.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers tightening against your hips, like he’s barely holding himself together. 

He gives you a second—just one—before he pulls back and thrusts into you again, setting a brutal, relentless pace. Each movement is rough, deliberate, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the soft, breathy moans slipping past your lips.

The dresser rattles beneath you, your body rocking with each thrust, and you can do nothing but take it, the pleasure sharp and consuming. Sunghoon grips your hair, pulling your head back as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Let them keep talking," he mutters, voice ragged, punctuated by the snap of his hips. 

Your breath catches, your walls clenching around him at his words.

Sunghoon lets out a low groan, his thrusts growing deeper, sharper, his fingers moving back to your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. The tension coils tighter, your body burning, unraveling beneath him.

"Cum," he murmurs, his voice softer now, breathless.

And you do—pleasure washing over you in waves, your thighs shaking, your moan muffled as he presses a hand against your mouth, keeping you from making too much noise.

He follows soon after, his grip tightening, his cock pulsing inside you as he groans low against your shoulder, spilling into you with a shudder.

For a moment, there is only silence.

Then, just as expected, he pulls away.

Rolls onto his back.

Says nothing.

You stare at the reflection of yourself in the dresser mirror—flushed skin, swollen lips, empty eyes. You should leave. You should.

But you don’t.

Instead, you slip beneath the covers, curling away from him, pressing your knuckles against your mouth to keep yourself from shaking.

Because tonight, at least, you don’t want to feel alone.

- 

The morning is quiet.

You wake up to an empty bed, the sheets beside you already cold. The absence of warmth shouldn’t bother you—it hasn’t in months—but today, it does. The ache in your body from the night before lingers, a dull, throbbing reminder of something you wish you could forget.

For a moment, you stay still, staring up at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of light and shadow that spill through the curtains. The penthouse is bathed in soft gold from the rising sun, a warmth that contrasts the cold emptiness beside you.

There was a time when mornings like these meant something. When you’d wake up tangled in Sunghoon’s limbs, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your back, his lips pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. When the weight of his body against yours felt grounding instead of suffocating.

Now, there’s nothing but space.

You take a slow breath, blinking against the dryness in your eyes before finally sitting up. The silence is deafening, the type that only exists in places too large for two people who no longer belong to each other.

When you step out of bed, your legs feel unsteady, soreness creeping up your spine. You ignore it. You move toward the bathroom, turning on the sink, splashing cold water on your face as if it’ll rinse away the heaviness in your chest. It doesn’t.

Your reflection stares back at you, eyes slightly swollen, lips faintly bruised from the way he kissed you last night. You press your fingers against them, swallowing down the memory of his touch, of the way his hands had held you so tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away.

But he didn’t.

He never could.

By the time you make your way downstairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air. The sight of Sunghoon sitting at the dining table shouldn’t make your stomach tighten the way it does. He looks like he always does—effortlessly composed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand while his other scrolls through his phone.

Like nothing happened.

Like last night was just another night.

The illusion of normalcy almost makes you hesitate. Almost.

Instead, you step forward, setting the folder down on the glass surface of the table with a deliberate thud. The sound cuts through the silence, drawing Sunghoon’s attention as his eyes flicker up to meet yours.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t react, just studies you for a moment before his gaze drifts downward to the document between you.

Divorce Agreement.

His fingers pause against the rim of his coffee cup.

"Where were you?," you say, your voice steady, carefully controlled.

"Work," he replies, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

You cross your arms, exhaling through your nose. "You knew this was coming." Your voice is measured, even, despite the tightness in your throat.

Sunghoon finally sets his mug down with a soft clink, his expression unreadable. "I did."

"Then sign them."

A long silence stretches between you. You hold your ground, standing tall, watching as he leans back slightly in his chair, his fingers idly tapping against the surface of the table. He doesn’t look at the papers, just at you.

"You really want this?"

The words are simple. Too simple.

You hate the way they make your stomach twist. Hate the way your throat tightens because this shouldn’t be hard. This shouldn’t be something that makes your hands curl into fists at your sides.

"Yes."

His lips press together briefly before he exhales through his nose. Without another word, he pulls the folder toward him, flipping it open, skimming the terms with the same impassive ease he applies to every contract he reviews at work.

For a second, your breath catches.

You almost expect him to argue, to fight, to say something—anything.

But he doesn’t.

Not when he turns the page. Not when his eyes flicker across the fine print. Not when he reaches for the pen beside him.

And then—

He stops.

His fingers hover over the paper, the tip of the pen barely touching the page. Then, instead of signing, he clicks the pen shut and sets it down.

The air in the room shifts. Your stomach twists.

"Not tonight." His voice is smooth, final.

You blink. "What?"

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression completely unreadable. "I’ll think about it."

Something in your chest tightens, frustration curling in your throat. "Think about what?" You gesture to the papers between you. "This isn’t something that needs consideration, Sunghoon. This is happening. It’s already over."

His gaze darkens slightly, but his face remains composed. "Then why are you still here?"

Your breath catches.

Because you haven’t left yet. Because some part of you still needs this conversation. Because some part of you is waiting for him to say something that changes everything.

The silence stretches, heavy and unbearable. His fingers drum against the glass once, twice, before he reaches for his whiskey glass instead, taking a slow sip. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but then he just shakes his head.

"You’ll have them back tomorrow."

But you already know—he won’t sign.

Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Maybe not ever.

 - 

Park Enterprises runs on three things: money, power, and the ability to avoid Park Sunghoon and his soon-to-be-ex-wife in the same room at all costs.

This isn’t an official company policy, but if you asked anyone—from the executives to the janitorial staff—they’d all agree: keeping their two highest-ranking officials away from each other is the best way to ensure the company doesn’t collapse in on itself.

This is why, over the past few months, a silent, unofficial, yet highly efficient system has developed.

It begins every morning.

6:45 AM: Sunghoon arrives, coffee in hand, barely glancing at the receptionist before disappearing into his office. If he sighs immediately upon entering? Bad day. If he slams his office door? Get the emergency evacuation plan ready. 7:15 AM: You arrive, headphones in, already on a call, looking like you’re mentally preparing for battle. If you greet anyone? Good day. If you walk straight to your office without making eye contact? Avoid, avoid, avoid. 7:30 AM: Your PA, Nishimura Riki, updates the "Safe Zones" list. Any floor occupied by both you and Sunghoon is immediately deemed a no-go area.

By 9 AM, the "Daily Avoidance Protocol" is in full effect.

Incoming text: 📲 [Riki → Legal Team] 🚨 Sunghoon spotted near the finance department. Legal team, take the back elevators. DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT TAKE THE MAIN LOBBY.

Incoming text: 📲 [Sunoo → Executive Team] 🛑 Your boss is stomping through the 18th floor like a woman on a mission. She just told an intern to "never, ever look that stressed in front of her again" and I don’t think she was joking.

Incoming text: 📲 [Riki → Sunoo] i heard ur boss threw his pen at the wall this morning lol wtf did u do to him

[Sunoo]: nothing yet but im about to stir the pot for fun.

[Riki]: bet.

And then, of course, there’s lunch.

There used to be a time—back when things were different, when things were better—when you and Sunghoon would eat together. Now?

Now, entire lunch routes are planned out in advance to make sure the two of you never end up in the same restaurant, let alone the same hallway.

Incoming text: 📲 [Sunoo → Riki] Depressed male boss is heading toward the rooftop restaurant. tell ur people to evacuate the 10th floor cafe IMMEDIATELY.

Incoming text: 📲 [Riki → Legal Team] 🚨 ABORT. ABORT. DO NOT GO TO THE CAFÉ. I REPEAT, DO NOT GO TO THE CAFÉ.

By 3 PM, most employees think they’ve made it through the day safely. Until they check the meeting schedule. And realize. There’s a joint executive-legal meeting scheduled at 4:30 PM. Which means.

They have to be in the same room.

- 

The boardroom at Park Enterprises is a high-stakes battlefield.

The executives and legal team are already seated, carefully keeping their faces neutral, their eyes trained on the reports in front of them. No one dares to speak. Everyone is pretending to be busy, flipping through documents they’ve already memorized just to avoid being caught in the crossfire of what is about to happen.

At one end of the table, Sunoo twirls his pen lazily between his fingers, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Across from him, Riki updates the betting pool on his phone, typing at lightning speed while shooting occasional glances toward the door.

It’s only a matter of time before the two storm fronts collide.

The first arrival is you.

You stride in with effortless confidence, shoulders squared, back straight, file in hand. Your heels click sharply against the polished floors, announcing your presence before you even reach your seat.

You don’t acknowledge Sunghoon’s presence.

Your team watches as you settle into your chair, flipping open your folder with a level of precision that makes it very, very clear you are not in the mood for incompetence today.

Riki immediately clocks the stiffness in your posture. He subtly pulls out his phone under the table, fingers flying over the screen.

📲 Incoming text: [Riki → Legal Team] boss lady is MAD mad. don’t make eye contact, stay low, survive.

Barely thirty seconds later, Sunghoon walks in.

He doesn’t look at you.

Instead, he exhales sharply as he takes his seat, flipping open his laptop with measured ease, his expression unreadable. The sound of his pen clicking open is the only thing that breaks the silence.

he just sighed. that’s a bad sign. let’s all start praying now.

For the first ten minutes, everything is fine.

Reports are reviewed, revenue projections are discussed, and for a fleeting moment, there’s the illusion of normalcy. You make your points with cool efficiency, and Sunghoon listens without interruption.

"The merger contract," one of the executives finally says, carefully glancing between the two of you like he’s about to light a match in a room full of gasoline.

You don’t hesitate. You already know where this is going.

"The terms still require legal review," you state, flipping to the necessary section in your file. "The current liability clauses remain too vague for approval."

Sunghoon doesn’t even look up from his laptop. "The legal team has had two weeks to finalize those clauses."

Your brows lift slightly. "And yet, they’re still a problem. Imagine that."

The temperature in the room drops.

Sunoo, who had been casually taking notes, suddenly stops writing. His eyes flicker between you and Sunghoon, realization dawning.

Riki, seated to your right, visibly winces. His grip on his pen tightens before it slips from his fingers and rolls off the table.

Sunghoon finally looks up, his dark eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "You’re delaying a time-sensitive deal over minor details."

Your lips curl, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the edges. "Minor details? You mean, like, the ones that could potentially cost us millions in damages?"

His jaw tightens. "There’s a deadline for a reason."

"And there’s a reason you need my approval before proceeding," you counter, tone perfectly composed. "Which, let me remind you, you don’t have yet."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Sunoo leans back in his chair, murmuring to Riki under his breath. "They’re fighting in full sentences today."

Riki nods slowly, still typing. "This is worse than last week’s passive-aggressive email exchange."

Sunghoon exhales sharply, sitting back in his chair. His fingers drum once—just once—against the table before he speaks again.

"Fine," he says smoothly, but his tone is sharp. "Take another day. No more than that."

You hum thoughtfully, feigning consideration as you flip another page in your file. "I’ll let you know if that’s feasible."

Sunoo, who is now openly grinning, tilts his phone toward Riki.

📲 Incoming text: [Riki → Legal Team] the CEO looks like he wants to kill someone but is trying to stay professional. ten bucks says he slams his laptop shut first.

📲 Incoming text: [Sunoo → Executive Team] LMFAO he just clenched his jaw so hard I think he cracked a tooth.

-

Your heels click against the polished floor as you walk further in the penthouse, but you don’t call out for him. You don’t need to. You already know where he is.

The scent of whiskey lingers in the air—subtle, but unmistakable. Your eyes land on Park Sunghoon, sitting on the couch in the dim light of the living room, his posture relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the cushions, his other hand resting near the glass of amber liquid on the coffee table. His tie is loose, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up as if he’s been here for a while, waiting.

But that isn’t what catches your attention.

The divorce papers sit between you on the glass surface.

Untouched.

Your throat tightens as something bitter and exhausted coils low in your stomach. You set your bag down near the door with more force than necessary, the sound sharp against the silence. You’re tired—of the fights, of the push and pull, of this thing between you that refuses to die no matter how much you try to smother it.

"You haven’t signed them." Your voice is level, controlled, giving away nothing. But inside, your pulse is unsteady, your fingers curling into fists at your sides.

Sunghoon doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for his whiskey, taking a slow sip, his movements measured, deliberate. When he sets the glass back down, the faint clink against the glass table feels deafening in the quiet room. His gaze lifts to yours, dark and unreadable, his expression betraying nothing.

"No."

The single word lands between you like a gunshot.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, nails pressing into your palms as frustration flares up in your chest. "Sunghoon—"

"Say it."

His voice is quiet, but the weight of it cuts through the space between you with an edge sharper than steel.

You frown slightly, tilting your head in question. "Say what?"

His eyes remain steady on yours, holding you there, unrelenting. There’s no coldness in them, not like there usually is, but something deeper, heavier, more dangerous.

"Say you don’t love me anymore."

The air in the room thickens, growing heavy with something suffocating, unbearable.

It should be easy.

You should be able to say it, to lie through your teeth and tear the last fraying thread between you. You’ve spent months trying to unlove him, convincing yourself that walking away is the only choice left.

But the way he’s looking at you now—the way his fingers ghost over the edge of the divorce papers but never actually touch them—it makes something sink deep in your chest, twisting into something that feels like regret.

Your jaw tightens, shoulders drawing stiff, as you inhale slowly through your nose. "Don’t do this," you murmur, voice quieter now.

Sunghoon leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, the corner of his mouth curling into something resembling a smirk, but there’s no amusement behind it. "Do what?"

Your pulse hammers against your ribs as anger rises in your throat, sharp and bitter. "Pretend to care when you never did."

Something snaps.

Fast. Brutal.

Before you can react, you’re on the couch, pinned beneath him, Sunghoon’s hand wrapped around your throat.

Your breath catches as your back presses into the cushions, your pulse stuttering beneath his fingers. The grip isn’t tight—not enough to hurt—but just enough to hold you there, to remind you exactly who he is.

His face is close, too close, his breath warm against your lips, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension in every muscle. His gaze flickers between your eyes, searching, burning, filled with something dark and raw.

"You think I never cared?" His voice is low, rough, dangerous in a way that sends heat curling through your stomach.

Your body tenses, then melts, as his other hand trails up your thigh, fingers barely skimming your skin, teasing, not touching where you need him to.

"You think I don’t want you?" His breath is uneven now, his fingers tightening just slightly around your throat before loosening again. His thumb brushes along the side of your neck, slow, deliberate. His body is pressed against yours, solid and warm, every inch of him so close, too close, not close enough.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, nails pressing lightly into his skin, grounding yourself, grounding him. Your breath is shaky when you speak, barely above a whisper. "I think you don’t know how to want me without ruining me."

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

For a second—just a second—he looks wrecked.

Then, his grip tightens.

Your breath stutters, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as heat pools low in your stomach. His lips brush against your ear, his voice lower now, rough, a quiet warning.

"Tell me to stop."

You should.

Sunghoon waits, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, his fingers tightening around your waist, his grip flexing against your throat just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"You won’t, will you?" His tone is almost amused, but there’s something darker underneath, something that sounds almost like relief.

You shake your head.

And then his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is deep, hungry, filled with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer like he wants to memorize the shape of you all over again.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groans into your mouth, his body pressing you further into the couch, his knee parting your thighs. His hands slide under your dress, rough palms trailing against your skin, teasing, making you ache.

"Still wet for me," he mutters, voice dark, breathless. His fingers slip beneath your panties, dragging over your soaked folds, slow and deliberate, just to prove his point.

You whimper against his mouth, thighs trembling as he strokes you, not giving you what you need, just teasing, just pushing you closer to the edge.

"Sunghoon," you gasp, a plea, a warning.

He smirks against your skin, lips pressing against your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin before sinking two fingers into you, curling just right.

"You hate me, remember?" His voice is taunting, wicked.

Your back arches, hips rocking against his fingers, chasing more, chasing him.

Your breath comes out in shuddering gasps as you whisper the only thing you can manage. "I hate you."

Sunghoon lets out a breathless, bitter laugh.

"Liar."

-

"That’s not how we do things at Park Enterprises, Mrs. Park," Sunghoon muses.

He leans back in his office chair, fingers tapping against the polished surface of the table. The way he says it is deliberate, lazy, like he’s testing you.

The meeting room is as usual, closer to World War 3 (total destruction edition) than a collaborative good-vibes-only space.

You still, fingers curling slightly against the stack of legal briefs in front of you. The flicker of heat that rushes through you isn’t fondness—it’s pure irritation.

"Don’t call me that." Your tone is measured, sharp.

Sunghoon’s lips twitch, but there’s no humor in his smirk. "Habit."

Your gaze hardens, your nails pressing into the contract as you slam it down in front of him.

"Then break it."

The entire room freezes.

Sunoo, seated two chairs down, makes a sound that might be a laugh but immediately covers it with a cough. Across from him, Riki subtly slides his phone out to update the betting pool on how long this fight is going to last.

The tension only thickens when Sunghoon reaches for the contract, flipping through the pages like he isn’t remotely affected. His expression is smooth, almost bored, but you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens just slightly.

"You seem invested in this," he muses, signing his name on the margin like he’s humoring you. "Why? Worried about my financial well-being?"

You exhale slowly, forcing down the irritation curling in your chest. "No. I just don’t like being dragged into your reckless decisions when you know I’ll have to clean up your mess later."

Sunghoon’s eyes flick up to yours. There’s something there, something sharp, dark, something that makes your stomach twist.

"You always do," he murmurs. "Clean up after me."

You refuse to react, refuse to let him see that he’s getting under your skin. Instead, you push back your chair, standing with a level of poise that takes effort.

"I don’t work for you, Sunghoon," you remind him, voice cold. "I work for the company."

His lips press together, but he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t tell you you’re wrong.

Because you aren’t.

📲 Incoming text: [Sunoo → Riki] he just flexed his fingers like he wanted to throw the pen LMFAO ur boss literally just called him reckless in front of the entire room. this is peak entertainment.

📲 Incoming text: [Riki → Legal Team] ceo looks ready to commit murder. we might need security.

📲 Incoming text: [Sunoo → Executive Team] he just sighed through his nose. we are in DANGER.

-

The morning sun spills into Park Enterprises, painting streaks of gold across the marble floors of the top executive offices. Everything looks pristine, polished—exactly the way Sunghoon keeps it. But today, something is off.

You push open the heavy glass door to his office without knocking, a thick stack of contracts tucked under your arm. Your heels click against the floor with precise, deliberate steps, each one punctuating the tension lingering between you.

Without hesitation, you slam the folder onto his desk.

“You’re going to sign this,” you declare, arms crossing over your chest, voice clipped, firm.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond right away.

You expect the usual pushback—some sarcastic remark, a knowing smirk, the casual dismissal of your concerns—but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stays where he is, leaning against the edge of his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to suggest exhaustion. His fingers press lightly against the smooth wood surface behind him, as if steadying himself.

He looks off.

Not tired—Sunghoon is always tired. But off.

You narrow your eyes. “What, no argument?”

He blinks at you, slowly, like it takes more effort than it should. His grip on the desk tightens briefly before he exhales, dragging a hand through his already tousled hair.

"Are you okay?" The question leaves your lips before you can stop it.

Sunghoon finally reacts, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—small, forced. “Worried about me now?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I just don’t want you dying in my office.”

He chuckles, but the sound is weak, quieter than usual. He straightens up, shifts his weight slightly, but the way he moves is wrong—like he’s trying too hard to make it look effortless.

"If I did," he murmurs, "I’d haunt you."

Normally, that would be enough to pull an eye roll out of you. Maybe even a snarky remark. But something about the way he says it makes your stomach tighten.

You watch him carefully. The way his fingers flex against the desk. The slight tension in his shoulders. The way his smirk falters at the edges.

Sunghoon has always carried himself with control—measured, deliberate, never showing a single crack in the façade. But right now, standing in front of you, he looks off balance.

The last time he looked like this, the last time he held himself together just a little too well, something had been wrong then too.

Something you didn’t realize until it was too late.

The memory presses at the edges of your thoughts, but you push it down.

“Maybe you should sit down before you do something stupid,” you mutter.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he does exactly that. He sinks into his chair, rolling his shoulders, letting out a slow breath before picking up the contract.

“Relax,” he says, flipping through the pages. “I’ll sign your stupid paperwork. No need to get sentimental.”

Your jaw tightens, irritation curling at the edges of your concern. “I’m not being sentimental. I just don’t want to deal with the PR disaster when you inevitably collapse.”

Sunghoon lets out a quiet huff of laughter, but the way his fingers drift to his temple, pressing lightly, does not go unnoticed. He rubs at the tension there, eyes briefly fluttering shut before he shakes his head, pushing through whatever is bothering him.

“I’m fine.”

You don’t believe him. But you don’t push. Because the last time you did, you lost.

It had been late.

Past midnight. The city outside your bedroom window was still awake, alive with light and movement, but inside, the world had gone silent.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion pressing into your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift. You weren’t crying. You had already done that. There was nothing left inside you except emptiness.

Sunghoon lay beside you.

Awake. Motionless. Silent.

His back was turned to you.

And the worst part, the part that haunted you even now, wasn’t that he hadn’t said anything.

It was that when you had reached for his hand, he had let you hold it.

But he hadn’t held yours back.

The memory lingers even as you push it away.

You watch Sunghoon as he picks up the contract, flipping through the pages with minimal interest. His fingers tighten slightly when he turns each page, like he’s holding back something.

Pain. Fatigue. Something worse.

"You look like shit," you say finally, leaning against his desk, arms crossed.

Sunghoon hums, barely glancing up. “Charming as always.”

"You should get checked out."

He snorts, shaking his head. “If I wanted medical advice, I wouldn’t take it from my ex-wife.”

"Not ex yet."

And for some reason, as you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that you just missed something important.

-

The Park family never asks for favors.

Not officially, at least.

It’s always subtle, always wrapped in polite smiles and casual requests, laced with just enough manipulation to make refusal feel impossible.

Which is why you’re seated in the Park family’s private lounge, sipping tea that’s gone cold, listening to Sunghoon’s mother and his uncle discuss the delicate legal situation that has suddenly become your responsibility.

“It’s just a small thing,” his mother insists, waving a dismissive hand as though corporate fraud allegations against one of their subsidiary partners are a minor inconvenience rather than a full-blown lawsuit waiting to happen.

You keep your expression neutral, fingers laced neatly over your knee. “It’s not a small thing,” you correct evenly. “You’re looking at a serious case of financial misrepresentation, and if this isn’t handled properly, it could affect all of Park Enterprises. This isn’t something I can just sweep under the rug.”

His uncle chuckles like you’ve just told a particularly amusing joke. “Oh, we know that, dear. That’s why we’re bringing it to you.”

Dear.

You resist the urge to tense, keeping your posture composed.

Because this is what you’ve become to them.

Not a daughter-in-law. Not family.

A lawyer first, a liability second.

“You’ve always been so good at handling these sorts of things,” his mother adds, smiling that elegant, carefully practiced smile that never quite reaches her eyes. “And with your position at the company, it only makes sense for you to oversee it personally.”

Of course. Personally.

They won’t trust this kind of thing to an outsider. But they also won’t officially involve you, because that would mean compensation, responsibility, accountability.

Instead, they’ll let you handle it just enough to clean up their mess. They’ll let you do the work, bear the stress, and take the fall if things go wrong.

And Sunghoon?

Sunghoon won’t say a word.

You glance to your left, where he’s seated quietly, fingers tapping lightly against the rim of his coffee cup. He hasn’t spoken once since this conversation began.

Not to defend you. Not to refuse. Not to say anything at all.

Just… silent.

Your fingers tighten around the folder in your lap.

“I’ll review the case,” you say finally, voice clipped, controlled. “But I won’t guarantee anything.”

His mother beams, reaching forward to squeeze your hand like you’ve just agreed to Sunday brunch, not to clean up yet another one of their family’s legal disasters.

“I knew we could count on you,” she says sweetly.

Sunghoon still says nothing.

Not when his mother praises you.

Not when his uncle jokes about how lucky Sunghoon is to have married such a “resourceful” woman.

Not when the conversation finally ends, and they rise from their seats, leaving you with a stack of documents, a heavier workload, and a headache that has nothing to do with legal strategy.

It isn’t until you’re alone with him in the car, on the drive back home, that you finally let your frustration boil over.

“So that’s how this works now?” Your voice is flat, gaze fixed on the city lights outside the window. “Your family gets into trouble, and I’m the free labor you offer up to fix it?”

Sunghoon exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. “It’s not like that.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No? Because from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell feels like it.”

His fingers flex against the steering wheel. “You’re the best lawyer they know,” he says after a beat, like that somehow makes it better. Like that somehow makes this okay.

You turn to look at him, eyes narrowing. “And that’s all I am, isn’t it?”

-

He went back after dropping you off.

His mother had barely glanced up from her tea. “She’s always been so difficult,” she sighed, setting the cup down with a delicate clink. “It would be easier if she simply cooperated without arguing every little point.”

Sunghoon’s jaw had clenched at that.

His uncle had smirked, shaking his head. “Women like her are sharp, but they forget that they’re meant to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

The room had gone silent.

His uncle blinked, raising a brow. “Excuse me?”

Sunghoon had leaned forward slightly, voice measured but laced with something dangerous. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

His mother frowned slightly, but the warning in his expression kept her from speaking.

His uncle, however, wasn’t as quick to read the room. “She’s my niece-in-law, I can—”

“She’s not yours anything,” Sunghoon cut in, tone sharp. “And the next time you speak about her like that, you won’t like how I respond.”

His uncle had scoffed, muttering something under his breath about being too soft on a woman who clearly didn’t respect her place, but the discussion didn’t go any further.

Because Sunghoon had stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, gaze level.

“You wanted her help?” he had said coldly. “You’ll take what she’s willing to give. And if she decides she’s done dealing with your bullshit, you won’t push her. Understood?”

-

The first sign that something is wrong comes in the form of silence.

For the past few days, Sunghoon has been more irritable than usual. Not outright angry, not obviously upset, just… distant. He works longer hours, avoids unnecessary conversations, and brushes off every single instance you or his team ask if he’s okay. It’s nothing new—he’s always had a habit of overworking himself into exhaustion, pushing himself too hard, acting invincible even when he’s clearly not.

You’re used to it.

But today, something feels different.

Maybe it’s the way he barely acknowledged you in the morning meeting, his focus wavering during discussions where he’s usually sharp. Maybe it’s the way his grip tightened just slightly around his pen, like he needed to steady himself. Maybe it’s the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something, but chose not to.

Or maybe it’s the way his entire office is empty when you pass by hours later, and his assistant, Sunoo, is nowhere to be found.

You stop in your tracks.

"Where is he?"

Riki looks up from his phone, startled by your sudden appearance at the executive floor. “Uh—meeting with finance, I think?”

You frown. “No, that ended an hour ago.”

Riki hesitates. He knows better than to lie to you. “He wasn’t looking too good earlier.”

Your stomach twists.

He’s been pushing himself too hard. You knew this would happen.

You spin on your heel, already moving before you can second-guess yourself.

When you find him, he’s exactly where you feared he’d be.

Collapsed on the floor of his office.

Sunghoon is slumped against the base of his desk, one hand still loosely gripping his chair, as if he had tried to stop himself from falling. His usually sharp, polished composure is completely gone—his dress shirt is slightly undone, his face pale, sweat beading along his brow. His breathing is shallow, his eyes half-lidded like he’s barely clinging to consciousness.

The sight of him like this—weak, vulnerable, not in control—makes something in your chest tighten painfully.

"Sunghoon," you breathe out, dropping to your knees beside him. Your hands hover over him for a second, uncertain, before you press against his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

His head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to you, but it’s unfocused.

“…What are you doing here?” His voice is quiet, hoarse, like he’s barely holding onto himself.

Your heart pounds in your ears. “Shut up.” You tilt his chin up, searching his face, trying to assess just how bad this is. He’s too pale, too warm, and his breathing is far from steady.

"I’m fine," he murmurs, trying to push himself up, but his body betrays him. His limbs shake, his strength is gone, and before he can fall again, you catch him.

That’s when panic sinks in.

You barely register the way your arms tighten around him as you yell for help, your voice sharp, commanding. Within moments, Riki and Sunoo are rushing in, Sunoo already pulling out his phone to call an ambulance.

"Sunghoon, stay awake," you demand, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Do you hear me? Stay awake.”

His lips curve slightly. Even now, he’s trying to smile.

“Bossy,” he mutters.

Your throat tightens. “Shut up and breathe.”

-

The hospital smells like antiseptic and exhaustion.

The waiting room is too bright, too cold, too suffocating. The dull hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, mixing with the distant beeping of heart monitors and the low murmur of voices at the nurse’s station. You sit motionless, staring at the tiled floor, your arms crossed so tightly that your nails press crescents into your palms.

It’s been hours since they rushed Sunghoon in.

Riki and Sunoo are still here, but neither of them speaks. They hover nearby, their presence a quiet weight in the room, but they know better than to say anything. Everyone knows better than to say anything.

Finally, footsteps approach. A doctor stops in front of you, flipping through a clipboard. “Are you here for Park Sunghoon?”

Your breath catches. You rise immediately, ignoring the stiffness in your limbs. “Yes.”

“He’s stable for now,” the doctor says, voice calm and professional. “We ran some tests, but given his symptoms, this isn’t just exhaustion. He’s been dealing with this for a while, hasn’t he?”

Your stomach twists.

He’s been hiding this.

The doctor’s gaze softens slightly. “Are you his wife?”

The word cuts through you like a blade.

You swallow. Legally, yes. Emotionally? You don’t know anymore.

“Yes,” you say, the word tasting strange on your tongue.

The doctor nods. “Then I need to speak with you privately.”

-

The hospital room is suffocating.

It smells sterile, like antiseptic and something cold, something lifeless. The overhead lights cast a dim glow over everything—too bright, too harsh, too unforgiving. The heart monitor beside the bed beeps in slow, steady intervals, but Sunghoon’s breathing is anything but steady.

He looks wrecked.

His skin is too pale, washed out under the fluorescent glow. His lips are dry, colorless. There’s sweat clinging to his hairline, dampening the strands against his forehead. His fingers tremble where they rest against the blanket, curling slightly like even the fabric is too much to hold onto.

And yet, despite all of it, despite the exhaustion weighing down his body and the fever burning beneath his skin, he still looks at you with something sharp, something unyielding, when you demand the truth.

“How long have you known?”

Your voice is stretched too thin, raw from exhaustion and something deeper, something you don’t want to name.

Sunghoon exhales, closing his eyes for a second like it physically pains him to answer. When he finally does, his voice is quiet, hoarse from fatigue.

“Six months.”

The words sink into you like stones.

Your hands tighten around the metal bedrail, your grip so tight your knuckles go white. Your chest constricts, something ugly twisting inside of you, something that makes your stomach curl in on itself.

“Six fucking months?”

Sunghoon drags a trembling hand down his face, but even that looks like it takes too much effort. His body is failing him, but his voice is still there, still cutting, when he lets out a soft, bitter laugh.

“Would it have changed anything?”

Your breath catches, something sharp and painful ripping through your chest.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, something hollow and unfamiliar.

“Yes.”

Sunghoon finally looks at you, but there’s something haunted in his gaze. A long, unbearable silence stretches between you before his jaw tightens, his voice lowering, turning quiet, cutting like a blade against your skin.

“Did it change anything when I tried to hold you after we lost them?”

The air leaves your lungs.

You freeze, your entire body locking up, the grip you have on the bedrail so tight it screeches beneath your fingertips.

Sunghoon watches you carefully, but there’s no fight in his face, no anger, no bitterness.

Just exhaustion.

And pain.

Your voice barely makes it out. “You never tried.”

His breath catches.

“I did,” he murmurs, voice raw.

Your throat tightens.

“No, you didn’t.” You take a step forward, your pulse hammering, hands shaking. “You shut down. You let me—” Your breath hitches, your voice unsteady. “You let me go through it alone.”

Sunghoon doesn’t argue. He just looks away.

And that’s somehow worse.

“You acted like it never happened,” you whisper, the words barely holding themselves together. “Like they never happened.”

Sunghoon’s chest rises sharply, his fingers twitching, his breathing growing uneven again. His entire body stiffens, but he doesn’t push back.

And then, voice hoarse, shaking, wrecked,

“You think I didn’t care?”

Your hands curl into fists, but before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening—

Sunghoon moves too fast.

He tries to stand up, tries to close the space between you, but his body betrays him.

His IV yanks painfully, the needle shifting against his arm, and the wires attached to the monitor tangle around his wrist, pulling tighter when he moves. His breath stutters in pain, his fingers weakly gripping the sheets, but he doesn’t stop.

“Sunghoon,” you snap, eyes widening in alarm. “Sit the fuck down.”

But he doesn’t listen. He tries again to push himself up, stumbling slightly, and this time, his knees give out.

You barely catch him in time.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, gripping his arms as his entire weight collapses against you. His body burns under your touch, too warm, feverish, his breathing erratic. His head nearly falls against your shoulder, his body too weak to hold itself up.

His fingers clutch at the fabric of your blazer, something weak, something desperate.

And then—voice wrecked, hoarse, shaking—

“I named them.”

Your entire world tilts.

You go still.

Sunghoon doesn’t move, his forehead nearly pressed against your collarbone, his breath warm and shaky against your skin. His grip tightens, even as his body trembles.

“What?” Your voice barely makes it out, caught somewhere between disbelief and something worse.

“Every night while you were asleep next to me, I whispered their names silently. I prayed for them.”

Sunghoon exhales shakily. His legs shake beneath him, his chest heaving, his entire body drained. He’s burning up, sweat sticking to his temple, his breath shallow.

You grab him by the arms, shaking him slightly. “Say their names.”

Sunghoon winces, he shakes his head ‘no’ his face twisting like the words are physically painful to say. He exhales sharply, breath ragged.

“Say their names, Sunghoon.”

His fingers tighten around your sleeve, his whole body trembling under your touch. For a moment, he just stares at you, like saying it out loud will finally break him.

Then, barely above a whisper, like it’s being torn from him—

“Eunha and June.”

Your stomach drops.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his entire body slumping like he just let go of something he’s been carrying for years.

“I used to imagine who they’d look like more,” he whispers, his voice so thin, so hollow. “If Eunha would have had your eyes. If June would have had my smile.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

“I wondered if they would have fought like us,” he exhales shakily, his fingers flexing around the fabric of your sleeve. “If they would have been close. If they would have had your fire. If I would have been able to protect them.”

His next breath is ragged, breaking.

“They were my girls.”

Your stomach twists.

His voice isn’t just sad. It’s grief-stricken. It’s empty.

“Mine,” he murmurs. His fingers twitch at his sides, the life draining from his voice as his chest rises and falls too quickly. “Mine and yours and no one else’s.”

A sob breaks past your lips, full and desperate and wrecked.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you pull him in.

Sunghoon immediately folds into you, his arms wrapping around your waist weakly, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck.

He’s burning up, feverish, barely staying upright.

Your hands press into his back, feeling the too-thin frame of him, the exhaustion pulling at his body, the heat radiating off him in waves.

Neither of you speak.

For the first time in years, there is nothing left to say.

-

You wake up feeling… off.

Your neck aches, your back is stiff, and there’s a strange, rhythmic beeping that’s far too loud for this early in the morning.

It takes a second to register where you are.

The hospital.

Sunghoon.

The entire night before crashes into you all at once. The fight. His fever. The names. The fact that you never left.

Your stomach tightens. You should have left. You should have walked out the second he fell asleep. That was the plan.

And yet, somehow—you didn’t.

Before you can sit up, the door swings open.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

You jump, blinking blearily as Sunoo steps inside, two cups of coffee in hand, his eyes scanning the room with just a little too much interest.

He doesn’t immediately say something annoying, which means he’s definitely about to.

You shift in your chair, sitting up straighter, clearing your throat. “Morning.”

Sunoo doesn’t move, just looks at you. Then at Sunghoon, still asleep in the bed. Then back at you.

Finally—he lets out a small hum. “You stayed.”

It’s not judgmental. It’s not even teasing, really—just surprised. But for some reason, it makes you feel weirdly defensive.

“He had a fever,” you mutter, shifting under his gaze. “It was high. I didn’t think he should be alone.”

Sunoo nods. “Right.”

You hate how knowing he sounds.

Before you can scowl at him, Sunghoon groans, shifting slightly in the bed. His brow furrows, his body tensing for a brief moment before his eyes crack open.

And you know the exact moment he registers Sunoo’s presence—because instead of groaning in pain like a normal sick person, he exhales sharply, eyes barely open but already full of irritation.

“The fuck are you doing here?” His voice is rough, hoarse from sleep, but still so unmistakably Sunghoon that it’s almost impressive.

Sunoo lets out a small laugh, shaking his head as he grabs his own coffee. “Ah, there he is. Same old personality, even after nearly dying.”

Sunghoon barely cracks an eye open before exhaling sharply, pressing his head back against the pillow. “Go away.”

Sunoo, wisely, does not go away.

Instead, he takes a slow sip of his coffee. “I mean, technically, I work here. It’s my job to check on the CEO.” His gaze flickers toward you. “But wow. Look at this. The dedicated wife, staying by his side all night. It’s like something out of a drama.”

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Sunoo—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, setting Sunghoon’s coffee on the bedside table. “I won’t tell the office too much. But, you know… people talk. Betting pools exist.”

Sunghoon slowly turns his head toward Sunoo.

And in the flattest, most deadpan voice imaginable, he says—

“You’re fired.”

Sunoo chokes on his coffee. “What?”

Sunghoon doesn’t even blink. “Pack your shit.”

“You wouldn’t survive a week without me,” Sunoo mutters, taking another sip.

Sunghoon closes his eyes, like he’s physically holding himself back from committing a crime.

You watch this exchange, unimpressed. “Are you two done?”

Sunoo gestures at Sunghoon. “Tell him. He’s the one being dramatic.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flick open again. “You barged in here at eight in the morning.”

“Nine,” Sunoo corrects. “And technically, I knocked.”

Neither of you remembers a knock.

Sunghoon takes a long, deep breath. “I still feel like shit. And the very first thing I see when I wake up is you. Running your mouth.”

Sunoo hums. “Okay, grumpy.”

Sunghoon glares.

Sunoo clears his throat, wisely changing the subject. “Anyway. You have the day off, obviously, but I have your morning reports whenever you’re—”

“I don’t care.”

Sunoo nods slowly. “Right. Well. I also have—”

“I still don’t care.”

Sunoo pauses. “…Okay, then.”

For the first time, he seems to sense that he’s overstayed his welcome. He takes a slow step toward the door, glancing between the two of you.

Then, mildly—“Try not to murder each other before lunch.”

And with that, he’s gone..

-

Sunghoon exhales sharply as he sinks into the passenger seat, eyes shut, head tilted back against the headrest. His body is still weak, and you know the car ride is taking more out of him than he’d ever admit. He doesn’t complain, though—he never does.

You keep your eyes on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles pressing just a little too hard against the leather. The silence stretches between you, filling the space inside the car, thick but not suffocating. Just there.

It’s not hostile. Not like before. But it’s not comfortable either.

For a while, neither of you say anything. The city blurs past in streaks of yellow streetlights and neon reflections, casting flickering shadows across Sunghoon’s face. His breathing is slow, controlled, like he’s trying not to let the exhaustion show.

But you see it.

You see the way his fingers twitch slightly against his thigh, how his jaw tenses every time you hit the smallest bump in the road. You see the way his chest rises and falls, slower than usual, deeper like he’s trying to regulate himself.

And then, finally—his voice breaks the silence.

“You don’t have to babysit me.”

It’s not sharp, not a challenge. Just… a test.

You inhale, eyes flickering toward him briefly before returning to the road. “I know.”

A pause. Then, quieter this time, a little more uncertain—“You don’t have to stay in the same house anymore.”

Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your stomach twisting in a way you don’t like.

“I know,” you say again, but this time, it sounds different. Less sure. Less like something you actually believe.

Sunghoon turns his head slightly, watching you from the corner of his eye. His expression remains unreadable, his voice careful.

“Then why are you still here?”

The traffic light ahead flicks to red. The car slows, the tires rolling to a smooth stop, but inside, everything still feels like it’s moving too fast.

You could answer honestly. You could tell him that you don’t know how to walk away from him yet, that you don’t know what the hell you’re still holding onto but you’re holding onto it anyway.

Instead, you let out a slow breath and shift slightly in your seat. “You wouldn’t last a week without me.”

Sunghoon huffs, gaze drifting back toward the windshield. “I’d last at least two.”

The corners of your lips twitch, but you press them together before the expression fully forms.

“Wanna bet?”

The breath he lets out is something close to a laugh—short, barely there, but real.

“Not really,” he mutters, exhaling through his nose.

Neither of you say anything after that.

But the silence that follows doesn’t feel as heavy as before.

-

The house is dimly lit, the soft glow from the hallway casting long shadows across the walls. The familiar scent of wood and clean linen lingers in the air, settling around you like something almost comforting, almost safe.

Sunghoon moves carefully, slower than he normally would, his fingers brushing against the wall for balance as he toes off his shoes. He doesn’t stumble, doesn’t sway, but you see the way his body holds tension—too stiff, too controlled, like he’s bracing himself.

You don’t say anything.

Not until he lowers himself onto the couch, exhaling as if just the act of standing had drained him.

“You should sit down,” you say after a moment, arms crossing over your chest.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet breath, shaking his head. “You just watched me sit down.”

You roll your eyes, stepping into the kitchen without another word. He’s impossible. He always has been. The worst part is, you let yourself care anyway.

You fill a glass with water and bring it back to the living room, setting it down in front of him before dropping into the armchair across from the couch.

Sunghoon glances at the glass, then up at you.

“You’re not gonna make me drink it, are you?” His voice is hoarse, rough from exhaustion.

“I will if you keep being difficult.”

Sunghoon exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before finally—finally—grabbing the glass. He takes a slow sip, sets it back down, and leans back into the cushions.

The silence that follows is heavy, but not the kind that threatens to break.

For a few minutes, neither of you speak. The tension sits between you, waiting, stretching until you finally say—

“You need to take time off.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrows slightly, eyes still closed.

“I already did,” he mutters.

You scoff. “No, you were hospitalized. That’s not ‘time off,’ that’s your body shutting down because you refuse to take care of yourself.”

He doesn’t react at first, but you see the way his fingers flex slightly against his knee.

“I can manage,” he says, and this time, there’s an edge there.

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees, voice sharper now. “That’s exactly the problem, Sunghoon. You think you can manage. You think you can push through it, that it’s just something you can ignore and work around. But you can’t.”

His jaw tightens.

You exhale through your nose, hands pressing together. “The doctors literally told you what happens if you don’t take care of yourself. You might get better quickly, but if you push too hard, it’s going to get worse even faster. You don’t have the luxury of acting like this is a minor thing.”

Sunghoon shifts slightly, dragging a hand through his hair before resting his forearm against his knee. His voice is quieter when he finally speaks.

“…I know my limits.”

The words hit something raw inside you, something that has been aching for too long.

“No, you obviously don’t,” you snap, and this time, you don’t bother holding back. “You never do. You push and push until you hit a wall, and then you act surprised when your body gives out.”

Sunghoon’s fingers tighten against his knee. “I don’t need you to—”

“To what?” you interrupt, eyes burning. “To remind you? To be here because someone has to make sure you actually listen to the doctor’s advice?”

His breath catches slightly, and you hate how sickly he looks under the dim light. You hate how tired his shoulders are, how his fingers are trembling slightly against his knee, how his skin is still too pale, too warm from the fever that hasn’t fully faded yet. But most of all, you hate that he won’t just let himself rest.

You inhale, voice calmer now, but still firm. “They told you that you can’t just ‘push through’ this, Sunghoon. You’re not invincible. The whole reason you ended up in the hospital is because you ignored the symptoms for months.”

Sunghoon drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “I don’t need you to remind me of what I already know.”

“Then act like you know it.”

Sunghoon leans back against the couch, his body tense, hands resting on his thighs. His gaze flickers toward the ceiling, expression unreadable.

You watch him, watch the way his shoulders rise and fall with each slow breath, the way his throat bobs slightly when he swallows.

“Are you staying in my room?”

The words are soft. Careful. Testing.

Your fingers tighten slightly against your knee. You should say no.

You should get up, go to your own room, create distance before this turns into something neither of you know how to handle.

“Just until you’re better.”

A lie. And Sunghoon knows it too. But neither of you say anything about it.

-

The room is still dark when you stir awake, the faintest trace of early morning filtering through the curtains. The air is cool, the kind of stillness that comes right before dawn, when everything feels softer—quieter.

You shift slightly under the blankets, your body slow to wake, your mind still caught in the haze of sleep.

And that’s when you feel it.

The warmth. The weight. The quiet, steady presence behind you.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches, your body freezing for a moment as reality sets in. His arm—heavy, warm, familiar—draped loosely around your waist.

Not tight. Not pulling. Just there.

Your mind races, but your body remembers.

For a second—just a second—you don’t move.

Sunghoon’s breathing is even, deep and slow. His chest rises and falls against your back, steady, the faint warmth of his breath skimming the back of your neck.

Your stomach twists.

It’s been years since you’ve woken up like this—since you’ve felt his presence this close, this natural. And for a fleeting, dangerous moment, you let yourself sink into it, let yourself feel the way his fingers twitch slightly against the fabric of your shirt, like he’s still dreaming.

Then, suddenly—he shifts.

His body stirs, his breath hitching slightly, and you realize he’s waking up.

Panic flickers up your spine, but you keep still, barely breathing, waiting—waiting to see if he’ll pull away first.

But he doesn’t.

Sunghoon exhales softly, his fingers twitching again before his hand tightens ever so slightly around your waist.

Not intentional. Not forceful. Just… like he doesn’t want to let go yet.

Your throat tightens. It lasts a second. Maybe two.

His body tenses slightly. His fingers flex. His breath catches.

He’s awake now.

Neither of you move. Neither of you breathe too loudly.

And then, carefully—too carefully—he pulls away.

His arm lifts from your waist, the warmth of him retreating as he shifts slightly onto his back. You hear him exhale quietly, controlled.

You wait, counting the seconds, waiting for him to say something, for him to make a joke, for him to act like this didn’t just happen.

But he doesn’t. He just stays there, quiet.

And after a moment, you let out a breath of your own and shift to sit up, pulling the blanket back just enough to swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Neither of you acknowledge it. Neither of you turn to look at each other.

It’s like it never happened. And that’s the problem.

Because it did.

And for the rest of the morning, you can still feel the lingering warmth where his arm had been.

-

You knew this was going to happen.

You knew the moment you caught a glimpse of his laptop open on the coffee table this morning, saw the unread emails stacking up, the subtle tension in his shoulders as he read through them like he wasn’t supposed to be working in the first place.

You ignored it. You let it go, for a while. But now?

Now, it’s ten at night, and Sunghoon is still sitting on the damn couch, his laptop open, fingers typing slowly, deliberately, like he’s trying to pretend he’s not as exhausted as he actually is.

You don’t let it go this time.

“You’re working.”

It’s not a question.

Sunghoon doesn’t look up. His gaze stays fixed on the screen, his fingers still tapping against the keyboard.

“It’s just an email.” His voice is calm. Too calm.

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorway, your eyes sharp.

“Didn’t we already have this argument?”

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. “And yet, here we are.”

You hate how steady he sounds, how he knows exactly how to say things just to piss you off.

Your arms tighten across your chest. “We’re not doing this again.”

“Then don’t start it,” he mutters, still not looking at you.

Your patience snaps.

You step forward, standing right in front of him, blocking his view of the laptop. “Sunghoon.”

His fingers pause over the keys. His gaze lifts to yours. And the air changes.

It happens too fast, that shift in the atmosphere. The frustration, the exhaustion, the sheer stubbornness—blending into something else.

Something tense.

His eyes flicker over your face, your mouth, your throat. His voice is lower when he speaks this time. Slower. More deliberate.

“You keep saying you’re not going to argue with me.”

His fingers curl slightly against the armrest.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

Your stomach twists—not in anger, not in frustration, but in something darker, something hotter, something that you don’t want to name.

Your eyes narrow slightly, your voice sharp when you say—“Because you don’t fucking listen.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, his expression unreadable. His gaze dips, lingering on your lips for half a second too long.

Your breath comes in shorter now.

And then—slowly, carefully—he shuts his laptop. The sound of it clicking shut feels too loud in the quiet.

He leans back against the couch, arms resting on the cushions, his legs spreading just slightly, just enough to make the space between you feel smaller.

“Go on, then.”

Your pulse hammers.

Sunghoon watches you, his gaze steady, his body too relaxed, too effortless—like he’s waiting for something.

Like he wants to see what you’ll do next.

You inhale sharply, trying not to notice the way his sweatpants ride low on his hips, the way his shirt is loose enough to show a sliver of his collarbone, the way he looks completely unaffected when you’re burning.

You hate him.

You hate how good he is at this.

You take a step forward, planting your hands on the armrest, leaning in, forcing his attention back to your face.

“If you’re not going to take care of yourself,” you murmur, “then I will.”

Sunghoon exhales slowly, his jaw flexing slightly.

The tension between you pulls tighter.

He doesn’t move away. He doesn’t blink. He just sits there, waiting.

You don’t know if it’s waiting for the fight, or waiting for something else. You don’t know which one you want more.

For a second—just a second—your eyes flicker to his mouth. And you swear—you swear—his do the same.

Before either of you can do something you can’t take back—

Your phone buzzes from across the room. The moment shatters.

You inhale sharply, stepping back, hands dropping from the armrest. Sunghoon’s eyes flicker, his breath just slightly uneven now, but he doesn’t say anything.

You turn away first. You pretend your hands aren’t shaking.

You don’t look at him when you grab your phone off the counter, checking the notification even though you didn’t read a single word of it.

The moment is over. But neither of you breathe the same after that.

-

You hadn't planned for this.

You hadn't planned on seeing Sunghoon in the hallway, hadn't planned on him looking at you like that—like he was about to ruin you, like he needed to.

But the moment he stepped into your space, the moment his breath ghosted over your skin, you felt the air shift. It was thick, weighted with something that neither of you had the energy to resist anymore.

"Tell me you don’t want this." His voice is low, quiet but firm, laced with something deeper than just lust—something closer to desperation.

Instead of answering, your fingers twist into the front of his shirt and you pull him in.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his restraint snapping the second your mouth meets his. He moves fast—too fast, like he's been starving for this, like he's afraid it'll slip through his fingers if he hesitates. His hands are on your waist, then your back, gripping at you like he's trying to memorize every inch.

The kiss is messy, uncoordinated, filled with teeth and tongues and frustration. Months of pent-up tension, of silent longing, of unsaid words spill into every movement. He presses you into the wall, hips flush against yours, and you feel it—how hard he is, how much he's holding back, how badly he wants this.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he mutters against your lips, his breath ragged.

"Then do something about it."

He groans, low and wrecked, before lifting you effortlessly, hands gripping under your thighs as he carries you through the house. He doesn’t stop kissing you—not when he stumbles slightly into a wall, not when he nearly knocks over a lamp.

You barely make it to the couch before he’s pushing you down, hovering over you, eyes dark with something too raw to name.

His hands move fast—too fast—pulling at your clothes, impatient, frantic. His fingers tremble slightly as he drags your shirt over your head, his lips instantly finding the newly exposed skin, teeth grazing, biting, soothing with his tongue.

"Fuck—" he exhales, hands gripping at your hips, his forehead pressing against your shoulder for a second. Like he's catching his breath. Like this is overwhelming him.

You tilt his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"Sunghoon."

His eyes flicker to yours, something wrecked flashing across his face before he swallows hard, his fingers tightening on your skin.

"Say it again."

His lips ghost over your collarbone, his breath unsteady. You shudder.

"Sunghoon."

That’s all it takes. Then—his mouth is on you, his hands everywhere, his body pressing against yours like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.

He whispers your name over and over, between gasps and curses, between kisses that feel too much like confessions.

And when he finally pushes inside you, his forehead drops to yours, his breath heavy, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I missed you. You were my life, you were my life."

It’s not just sex. It never was. It’s him finally admitting what neither of you have said out loud. And you don't stop him.

Because you missed him too.

-

The air is warm, thick with the scent of sweat and skin and something distinctly Sunghoon. His body is still pressed against yours, not with the desperation of before but with something softer, something that lingers.

Your fingers trace absentminded patterns over his back, your body still humming from him, from this, from everything.

His hand is still resting against your hip, fingers brushing against your skin, like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he’s making sure it doesn’t disappear.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, exhaling slowly. You could stay like this. You could let yourself be comfortable in this silence, in the warmth of his body, in the knowledge that—for once—you both stopped fighting.

But then, he shifts slightly, pressing his forehead against your shoulder before mumbling, “We should slow down.”

Your brows pull together slightly.

Did you hear that right? You open your eyes, tilting your head to glance down at him.

"What?"

Sunghoon exhales, leaning up on one elbow, his free hand still resting on your waist, thumb rubbing lazy circles against your skin.

"I mean, we don’t have to rush this," he says, voice quieter now, more careful. His eyes flicker over your face, something unreadable in them. "I don’t want to fuck this up again."

Your breath catches slightly.

He doesn’t want this to be just about sex. He doesn’t want to let himself have you only to lose you again. He wants to be careful with you.

But you nod anyway, pretending that the way your chest tightens isn’t real. "Okay."

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Mhm."

Then, slowly, you shift, straddling his waist, your fingers resting lightly on his chest.

Sunghoon stills immediately.

"What are you doing?" he asks, voice cautious, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your thighs.

Sunghoon’s head falls back against the couch, his jaw clenching. He wants to argue, you can tell, but the second you grind down again, all he manages is a sharp inhale, his fingers digging into your skin.

You smirk, tilting your head.

"I thought you wanted to take things slow."

His breath shudders. His grip on you tightens. Then he laughs—low, rough, almost amazed.

"You’re a fucking menace."

You barely have time to grin before he’s flipping you over, pressing you down into the cushions, his body caging you in.

"Slow?" he repeats, voice dropping, his lips hovering over your throat.

You try to keep up the act, but your breathing is already uneven, your body reacting to him before you can think.

"Isn’t that what you wanted?" you whisper, deliberately tilting your chin up in challenge.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his lips barely ghosting over yours.

"I changed my mind."

You barely have time to react before his hands slide down your thighs, gripping, tugging, parting you for him again.

Your breath catches.

"Sunghoon–"

"No." He shakes his head, his mouth pressing against your jaw as he smirks. "No more talking."

His fingers move lower, teasing, pressing just enough to make you gasp. And that’s when you remember—he’s still recovering. Your hand shoots out, pressing against his chest.

"Wait."

Sunghoon stills, his brow furrowing slightly, his breathing uneven.

"You’re sick," you murmur, your lips brushing against his jaw. "Let me work for it instead."

His entire body tenses.

Your hands trail down his stomach, your fingers ghosting over the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You—" he tries, but his voice is hoarse now, breathless, wrecked.

You hum, tilting your head. "What?"

His jaw flexes.

Then, without another word, he lets himself fall back against the couch. His breath comes out shaky, his head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut.

"Then work for it."

-

It’s been a month since then and Sunghoon has finally fully returned to work.

He’s doing much better now. His energy is back, his balance has improved, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he actually looks like himself again.

You’re not sure what you expected when he came back. Maybe for things to go back to the way they were before, full of sharp remarks and tension that could snap a room in half. Or maybe for things to be awkward, unspoken things lingering between you in ways that made your employees suffer secondhand stress.

But instead? No one knows what the hell is happening anymore.

Because while you and Sunghoon aren’t exactly different, something has… shifted.

The first sign of something weird happening was the lack of fighting.

A month ago, meetings with both of you in the same room meant employees visibly sweating, taking deep breaths beforehand, and updating their wills in secret.

Now?

Now, Sunghoon pulls out a chair for you before sitting down. Now, you ask his opinion instead of shutting it down immediately. Now, he actually listens when you talk.

People are concerned.

📲 [Executive Team Group Chat] 👥 Sunoo, Riki, Jungwon, Misc. Employees

🐧 Sunoo: guys. wtf is going on.🐥 Jungwon: ??? 🐧 Sunoo: i just saw boss lady n ceo actually agree on something in a meeting. no insults. no glaring. NO ONE DIED.🐱 Riki: LIAR.🐧 Sunoo: i have receipts.

(Sunoo sends a screenshot of the meeting notes. The section labeled 'Conflict Resolution' is EMPTY. Unedited. No bloodshed.)

🐥 Jungwon: I mean. That’s… good? Right? 🐱 Riki: NO IT’S NOT GOOD. THIS IS LIKE WATCHING PARENTS WHO USED TO HATE EACH OTHER BE WEIRDLY FLIRTY. I’M TRAUMATIZED. 🐧 Sunoo: EXACTLY.

📲 [Legal Team Group Chat] 👥 You, Your Team

⚖️ Paralegal #1: So uh. Boss.⚖️ Paralegal #2: What the hell is going on with you and CEO Park?⚖️ Paralegal #3: Did we miss a memo? Is this a prank? Are you sedated?

You roll your eyes, already regretting checking your messages.

📲 [You → Legal Team]: What are you talking about?

⚖️ Paralegal #2: You didn’t threaten to resign after he questioned your contract amendments today. You just. Smiled??⚖️ Paralegal #3: YOU AGREED WITH HIM ON SOMETHING. WE ALL SAW IT.⚖️ Paralegal #1: YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING HE SAID.⚖️ Paralegal #2: YOU LAUGHED, BOSS. AT HIS JOKE.⚖️ Paralegal #3: Do we need to call HR? Blink if you’re in danger.

📲 [You → Legal Team]: Go do your jobs.

It happens after a late meeting. You and Sunghoon are the last ones leaving, walking toward the elevators. Everyone else is pretending to be busy, but they’re totally watching.

The elevator doors slide open. You step inside first, then turn slightly—instinctively holding out your hand. Sunghoon takes it.

Casually. Like it’s normal. Like you always do this. And then—he laces your fingers together.

The doors slide shut.

Riki visibly short-circuits.

📲 [Executive Team Group Chat]

🐱 Riki: GUYS I JUST SAW THEM HOLD HANDS. IN THE ELEVATOR. IN PUBLIC. I NEED TO LIE DOWN. 🐧 Sunoo: Riki. Riki are you there. 🐥 Jungwon: Someone sedate him before he starts screaming. 🐧 Sunoo: THAT’S IT I’M STARTING A BETTING POOL. HOW LONG BEFORE THEY GET MARRIED (AGAIN). 🐱 Riki: I CAN’T BREATHE.

-

The company gala had been suffocating. Hours of pretending, of schmoozing, of wearing polite smiles while the weight of Sunghoon’s gaze burned against your skin the entire night. He hadn’t touched you once. Not in front of the board members, not during the champagne toast, not even when his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you a drink.

But he was watching.

And now, in the backseat of his car, that restraint is gone.

The moment the driver pulls away from the curb, Sunghoon’s hand is on your thigh, gripping—hard. His palm is warm against the skin exposed by the slit of your dress, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back, like he’s trying to decide how far he’ll let himself go.

He doesn’t speak.

You don’t either.

Because you both know where this is going.

The city blurs past the windows, streetlights flickering across his sharp jawline, his loosened tie, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he exhales.

And then—his hand slides higher.

Your breath catches.

"You knew exactly what you were doing tonight." His voice is low, almost amused, but there’s a sharp edge to it, something dark and controlled.

You shift slightly, not moving away, letting his fingers graze the crease of your inner thigh. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Sunghoon exhales a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

His hand tightens.

"You wanted me like this, didn’t you?" His fingers ghost over your clothed core, pressing just enough to make your legs twitch. "Parading around all night in this dress, pretending you weren’t soaking through your panties while you smiled at those executives."

Your stomach flips.

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon doesn’t need you to.

Because the moment you shift your legs slightly wider—silent permission—he knows.

And that’s when he loses it.

The car jerks to a sudden stop.

The driver turns slightly. “We’re at the—”

"We won’t be long," Sunghoon interrupts smoothly, his fingers already curling around your wrist.

Then, he yanks you into his lap.

You gasp at the sudden movement, hands bracing against his chest, but he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. His mouth is on yours before you can speak, rough and claiming, all tongue and teeth.

"You’re mine," he breathes against your lips, his hands gripping your ass as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your clothed core.

"Say it."

You bite your lip, pretending to consider, just to piss him off. "Make me."

Sunghoon growls, his fingers twisting into your hair as he yanks your head back, exposing your throat. His mouth is on you immediately, biting, sucking, marking.

"My wife thinks she’s a fucking tease." His lips drag against your pulse, his voice dark, edged with something dangerous. "That’s cute."

His hands slide up your thighs, bunching your dress up to your hips. When his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, he doesn’t bother taking them off. He just pulls, fabric tearing effortlessly in his grip.

"Sunghoon—"

"Shut up."

His hand moves between your legs, fingers dragging through your slick folds. He groans, his forehead pressing against your shoulder for half a second, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"You’re fucking soaked." His fingers circle your clit, slow, teasing, deliberate. "You really get off on being treated like a brat, don’t you?"

Your breath stutters. You hate how much his words affect you.

But Sunghoon notices.

He always does.

His free hand slides up your back, gripping the back of your neck before wrapping around your throat. He squeezes—not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your pulse stutter beneath his fingers.

"Answer me."

You swallow, the pressure of his grip making your head spin.

"I—" Your voice catches when he presses down on your clit at the same time, two fingers slipping inside you. Your body jolts at the stretch, at the pressure, at the way he fills you without hesitation.

"That’s what I thought," he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your ear. "Always such a fucking mess for me."

His fingers work you open too fast, too rough, curling against the spot that makes you see stars. Your hips roll against his hand, chasing it, and Sunghoon laughs—low and wrecked.

"That desperate already?"

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you down against the leather seat.

Your head spins.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, spreading you open, dragging his cock through your slick folds before he presses against your entrance.

"You want it?" His voice is strained, his jaw tight.

"Yes—"

But he doesn’t give you time to beg.

Because in the next second—he’s inside you, all at once, filling you to the hilt.

Your back arches off the seat, a choked sound escaping your throat.

Sunghoon groans, his head dropping forward, his grip bruising where he holds your hips down. "Fuck—look at you. Taking my cock so fucking well."

You barely have time to breathe before he starts moving.

No easing into it. No gentleness.

Just rough, deep thrusts that knock the air from your lungs.

"You feel that?" His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. "This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? My wife acting like a whore all night just so I could fuck her stupid in the back of a car”

You moan, the humiliation making your skin burn in the best way.

"That’s right," he grits out, snapping his hips harder, his other hand gripping your thigh, pushing it higher. "Let me hear you."

The car rocks with the force of it, every thrust sending pleasure shooting through your spine. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your body shaking, your release already close, already—

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, his breath ragged, his forehead pressing against yours. "Come on my cock. Be a good fucking girl for me."

And you do.

You shatter beneath him, your body tensing, your thighs trembling as your orgasm crashes through you.

Sunghoon follows right after, his rhythm stuttering before he buries himself deep, his groan breaking into something almost desperate. His fingers flex against your throat before finally, finally, he lets go.

The car is silent except for your uneven breaths.

Sunghoon leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead, softer now, his breathing still shaky. His fingers trail down your side, slow, absentminded, like he’s grounding himself.

The only sound in the car is the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing, the occasional rustling of fabric as Sunghoon shifts slightly against you. The intensity of what just happened lingers between you, crackling in the air like an aftershock, leaving both of you too warm, too tangled, too unwilling to move just yet.

He’s still inside you, still pressed close, his body a solid weight over yours, grounding, steadying. Neither of you speak, and for a while, you simply let the quiet settle, let your fingers drift absently over his back, tracing slow, lazy shapes.His forehead is against yours, his breath deep and uneven, warm against your lips.

Eventually, he exhales, the sound low, almost satisfied, before tilting his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. His hand shifts from where it had been gripping your thigh, his touch gentler now, a stark contrast to how he had held you earlier—fierce, possessive, unwilling to let you go. Now, his fingers just rest against your skin, smoothing over the curve of your waist, the warmth of his palm familiar.

"You okay?" His voice is rough from exertion, still heavy with something raw and unspoken.

You hum, nodding slightly, your cheek brushing against his. You can’t quite find the words yet—your body still feels like it’s floating, caught between exhaustion and bliss.

Sunghoon shifts just slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze sweeps over your face, studying you carefully, before his lips curve into a small, amused smile.

"I’ll take that as a yes." His fingers trace slow circles against your hip, his touch absentminded but deliberate, like he doesn’t quite want to stop touching you yet.

You blink up at him, still dazed, your limbs pleasantly heavy, your skin oversensitive in the best way. His words barely register before he shifts, withdrawing from you slowly. A quiet whimper catches in your throat at the loss, your body instinctively tightening around nothing.

Sunghoon notices.

His gaze darkens again, his jaw flexing slightly before he exhales through his nose, visibly restraining himself. He tilts his head, one brow raising ever so slightly, smug in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice low, watching as his release slowly drips out of you, glistening on your inner thighs.His fingers trace your swollen entrance, dragging along the slick mess he’s made, spreading it just to watch you squirm.

"So messy," he muses, voice teasing but full of something heavier, more possessive.

Heat spreads across your cheeks, embarrassment creeping in at how wrecked you must look, your thighs still trembling, your breath uneven. You turn your head slightly, muttering under your breath, "Shut up."

Sunghoon chuckles, clearly too pleased with himself. His fingers move to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again.

"Don’t do that," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, lower, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You frown slightly, not quite understanding. "Do what?"

His thumb presses just slightly harder, a silent reprimand, a reminder that he’s still in control.

"Act shy now," he says, watching you too closely, too knowingly. His smirk is slow, deliberate, confident in a way that makes your stomach flip. "You just let me fuck you stupid in the back of my car."

Your cheeks burn hotter, mortification creeping in. You scoff, shoving at his chest halfheartedly, but he doesn’t budge."I hate you."

His laughter is soft, low, a rumble against your skin as he presses another kiss—this time to your jaw, then lower, trailing lazily toward your throat.

"No, you love me."

You take a deep breath “I do.” 

He looks surprised, shocked almost, “You– you do?” 

You nod. “I do, ” you look at him expectantly, “You love me?” 

He laughs deep and loud, a real laugh, grabs your face in his hands forcing you closer, “Baby, when did I ever stop?”

Before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock on the window.

You freeze.

Sunghoon sighs, clearly unfazed, barely even reacting before he reaches over to roll down the window slightly.

Outside, the driver stands with an expression so perfectly neutral it’s almost comedic, like this is just another Tuesday night for him.

"Mr. Park," he says, his tone entirely professional, unaffected. "Should I… call another car for you two?"

You bury your face in Sunghoon’s shoulder, mortified.

Sunghoon, as expected, looks completely unbothered.

"No need," he replies smoothly, his fingers absently stroking your thigh as if nothing had just happened. "We’ll be heading home in a bit."

The driver nods curtly, not even blinking. "I’ll be outside."

And then, just like that, he walks away.

You groan, still refusing to lift your head. "I can never face him again."

Sunghoon laughs softly, his hand sliding up to rub slow, soothing circles against your back.

"You’ll live, you love me."  he murmurs, his voice warm, teasing, but laced with something softer. His fingers thread into your hair, tilting your head up just slightly. His lips brush against yours, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

"Let me clean you up."

You blink up at him, your chest tightening for reasons entirely unrelated to sex.

"You don’t have to—"

His hand tightens in your hair, not to hurt, just to keep you still. He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off before you can finish the thought.

"I want to," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours again, softer this time. "I take care of what’s mine. Of what I love."

Something invisible but heavy lodges itself in your throat.

Because he means it. Because this isn’t just sex, or routine, or an easy way to pass the time. This is him showing you, in the quietest way possible, that he loves you.

And when he kisses you again, when he reaches for a tissue to carefully clean the mess between your thighs, when he murmurs something under his breath about how ‘his wife shouldn’t be walking around with his cum dripping down her legs’

You don’t ever want to lose this again.

EPILOGUE

It starts the same way it did last time.

The nausea creeps in slowly—subtle at first, nothing out of the ordinary. You assume it’s from overworking yourself, the stress of handling legal negotiations, or maybe even just the exhaustion of being married to a man who refuses to listen when you tell him to take breaks.

Sunghoon notices before you do.

At first, it’s little things—the way you lean against the counter a little longer in the mornings, the way your appetite fluctuates, the way you pause mid-sentence with a sudden grimace, like something doesn’t sit right in your stomach. He watches you closer than usual, his sharp eyes following you whenever you touch your lower abdomen absentmindedly, whenever you shake your head at food that you normally love.

And then, one morning, you feel it.

The moment you stand up from bed, a wave of nausea crashes into you so violently that you barely make it to the bathroom in time.

You hear him before you see him—footsteps, the rustling of sheets, the quiet, urgent sound of his voice calling your name as he reaches for you.

"Hey—what’s wrong?" Sunghoon is kneeling beside you in seconds, his hand warm and steady against your back, rubbing slow, grounding circles as you try to catch your breath. His fingers stroke through your hair gently, not rushing you, not asking anything else yet.

You grip the edge of the sink, exhaling shakily, your heartbeat too loud, your pulse erratic.

Because this feels familiar. Too familiar. And that’s when you know. Sunghoon stills when you don’t answer right away.

"Baby." His voice is softer now, careful. "Look at me."

Something unreadable flickers across his face—shock, realization, something dangerously close to hope.

He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. Because he knows, too.

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the bathroom floor minutes later, staring at the test clutched in your hands, the two pink lines undeniable.

Sunghoon sits beside you, his knee brushing against yours, his breathing measured but uneven. He doesn’t reach for it. He doesn’t take it from your hands.

Instead, he just looks at you.

"Are we...?" His voice is barely above a whisper, raw in a way you rarely hear.

Your fingers tighten around the test, your throat thick with emotion. You nod, swallowing hard before murmuring, "Yeah."

Sunghoon exhales, slow and unsteady, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His head tilts forward slightly, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before he lifts them back to you. His gaze is so full of something it knocks the air from your lungs.

"How do you feel?" he asks quietly.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, part relief, part disbelief. "Like I might throw up again."

A short chuckle escapes him—not out of amusement, but out of something else, something lighter.

Then, slowly, he reaches for you.

His hands slide over your cheeks, fingertips pressing just slightly, like he’s trying to make sure you’re real, like he’s trying to ground himself in this moment. His thumb strokes over your cheekbone, his breath fanning against your lips as he leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, close enough that you can feel the slight tremble in his touch.

The positive test sits between you both, abandoned on the bathroom counter, but neither of you look at it anymore. You don’t need to.

Because all you can focus on is him—the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily, the way his lips part like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how.

And then, finally, he does.

"I won’t fail you this time."

His voice is rough, barely above a whisper, but it hits you harder than anything else.

Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers tightening slightly where they rest against his shoulders. His eyes are so unbearably soft when they meet yours, but there’s something else there, too—something raw, something desperate.

"I won’t lose you. I won’t lose them," he murmurs, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you fully against him, like he can shield you from anything and everything that might try to take this from him again.

A lump forms in your throat, because this is what he’s been carrying.

This is what he never let himself say out loud.

"You never failed me, Sunghoon," you whisper, your fingers moving to cup his face, "We lost them together."

Sunghoon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

"I should have held you. I should have been better. I should have—" His breath stumbles, and for the first time, you see it—the way his control wavers, the way the guilt still lingers, thick and unbearable.

"Hey." You press a hand against his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "You don’t have to do this alone anymore."

Sunghoon exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmurs, his grip tightening around you.

"You do." You don’t hesitate. "And we’re going to do this right this time."

His breath shudders. And then—he kisses you.

It’s not like before. It’s not desperate, or punishing, or laced with frustration. It’s slow, deep, lingering. It’s an apology, a vow, a promise.

When he pulls away, his lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching, waiting for something.

"Stay," he whispers. "Stay with me. Stay here. Always."

You smile, pressing your forehead against his.

"I already did."

fin.

Taglist: @vrusha01 @cupiddolle @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard @hveanlyanqelic @miuwonis @outroherrr @weyukinluv @riribelle @wonzbear @zhangyi-johee @randomanothercreature @wolfhardbby @httpenhoon @annovaz @seonhoon @lovelycassy @noidnoentry @btsreadss @linlianxin @icrieliterature @aussie-boys-wife @woniefull @ikeuwoniee @en-doll @ambi01 @thinkinboutbin @tobiosbbyghorl @semi-wife @fancypeacepersona @exhaleinhalepowder @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20 @nshmrarki

[sunghoon-my-dear]

I love this one, I have read it a 100 times

[junsfriend]

loyal puppy — sjy

SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.

PAIRING: popular!jake x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 26k+

GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes

WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with plot, tsundere!reader, lowkey crazy!reader, whipped!Jake, lowkey masochist!bf Jake, switch!Jake, emotional constipation, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer, unsafe/unprotected sex, cursing, sweat, dacryphilia, storage closet sex, lots of biting/marking, 69, cumplay, jewelry play, begging, failed pull-out method, creampie, squirting, lmk if i missed anything

A/N: Not to pick a favorite child but… I loved writing this fic so much. 

a year ago.

It’s the last year of high school, on a relatively normal walk back home. The same cracked sidewalks, the same autumn breeze, the same shy boy matching his steps beside you like he always did. Just like any other day. 

Until he decided to ruin it.

“Do you wanna… like, date?” Jake asked suddenly, hands shoved deep into his uniform pants pockets, trying too hard to sound nonchalant. “You know… put a label on us. Or whatever.”

You remember almost running away out of pure instinct, soul escaping your body. But instead, you laughed. Because what the fuck was he on about?

You? Jake? Date?

The two of you were barely even supposed to be friends. He's a straight-A student teachers constantly compared you to, with those thick-rimmed black glasses glued to his face and unkempt bowl of hair. A striker on the football team who watched matches from the sidelines just as much as you did… and you weren't on the team.

And on the other hand, there’s you. Not-so-pleasant you. Considered a troublemaker because you always showed up late to class, talked back to ill-meaning adults, and picked fights with boys who catcalled too much. A rumor spread through school that your dad was a terrifying loan shark with gang ties. He’s a banker.

Assigned classroom cleaning duties was what brought you two together in the first place. It wasn’t fate. Nothing notable. You more or less picked him up on your shoulder and claimed him as a personal assistant. Someone who would fetch you water when you’re thirsty or give you answers to math problems when you were too lazy to solve them yourself. 

So why in the world did he think you two should date?

“Who put you up to this?” you wheezed between bursts of cackling. “I’m gonna beat their ass.”

Jake scratched the back of his head, clearly not amused.

“I mean… You and me?” you continued, tears of laughter blurred your vision. “We would make the worst couple ever—”

“I don’t think so.”

You froze mid-step. Jake had slowed his strides down a long time ago, but now he was completely still. You turned to find him a few steps behind, face flushed and hands by his sides. 

He’s holding something. A small, turquoise box. One that looked suspiciously like…

You felt like throwing up.

“I-I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he stammered. “What it’d be like if I were your boyfriend. If we… went on dates and stuff.”

Oh, hell no.

It’s like an immediate sense of panic overcame your body. And before your brain could process a single rational thought, you broke out into a sprint. Running down the street like a maniac. In hindsight, you probably should’ve known that you couldn’t outrun an athlete. But you weren’t really thinking, period. 

You feel a tug on your waist. Jake had already caught up to you. He spun you around, like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms, and pulled you into him. His face was close. Too close. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose, and a bead of sweat clung to his temple. And it wasn’t from running.

It was from you.

He looked nervous. Ridiculously nervous.

The ring box pressed into your back, and you put your palms sternly against his chest, trying to create some distance between you two. It wasn’t helping.

“Jake,” you warned. “Let go of me or I scream.”

He shook his head, his arms only wrapped tighter around you. “Only if you promise you won’t run,” he replied, a sort of desperation laced in his voice. “And that you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

You bit your bottom lip, suddenly too aware of his intense gaze and how they searched yours through those big, fat lenses. You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to come out right. The moment his grip loosened, you broke your agreement almost immediately. Your feet moved on their own, like fight-or-flight, as you tried to rush out of his arms. But he was one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist to bring you back right where you were.

“Really?” he asked, exhausted. “That’s not gonna work a second time.”

You glared, but your eyes betrayed you. They slid down to the turquoise ring box, still in his hand. Jake's eyes flickered in the same direction, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“I can put it away if it’s freaking you out,” he muttered, slipping it back into his pocket. You almost let out a sigh of relief, but not when his large hand was still wrapped around your wrist.

“...Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground. “Now make it quick.”

Jake's heart constricted. ‘The worst thing she could say is no!’ the internet had told him. This was a lot worse, actually!

“[Y/N],” he started sharply, and the sound of your name on his lips sent shivers down your spine. He released you, only to set both his hands on your shoulders, guiding your gaze up to meet his.

“I… I think—” He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. “No. I know. I… really… really… l-like you.”

His voice was as shaky as his hands, and for a brief second, almost every part of you wanted to knock him out with your backpack because your heart was beating too loud in your chest. It pissed you off. But you held back and just… stared.

Jake, ever the hopeless romantic, had fallen for you the moment you asked him to clean the entire classroom alone while you skipped duties to hang out with your friends. He said yes, only because he has a hard time saying no, especially to someone he found so pretty. But then you laughed and told him you were joking. Told him not to bend over backwards just to please other people. Spent time with him that day when usually, others paid him no attention.

He was enamored ever since. 

But the silence between you two was suffocating, heavy enough to stall his breathing. Jake’s palms were growing damp against the fabric of your uniform blazer, and his heart felt like it was ready to fall to the floor. Maybe this was a bad time to do it. Or maybe the ring really freaked you out. Was it too big a gesture? The WikiHow tutorial he consulted had told him to bring a gift, after all. 

“Hello?” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts. He gave your shoulders a tiny shake, trying to pull you out of your entranced state.

“Hm? Sorry… say that again? I don’t think I heard you…”

Jake’s expression fell as he dropped his hands back to his sides in defeat.

“Okay,” he muttered, voice small. It wasn’t worth it. Everything went off script anyway. “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

He brushed past you, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets again. He was fidgeting with the ring box, wishing he could throw it into the nearest bushes. God, he felt dumb. So fucking dumb.

Of course you’d say no! He was nobody. Just Jake. Just some guy you latched onto at the start of high school so you could poke fun at him for the next few years and make him pay for your boba addiction. And you, with your cool-ass friends with eyebrow slits and really underground music tastes. You’re way out of his league—

“Jake,” you called out, surprised at how loud your voice could get if you were desperate. 

He turned around immediately, wearing such a pronounced pout even from a few meters away. Somehow, seeing his face again made your throat close up. He liked you. He really liked you.

“Say it again,” you demanded, arms crossed with doubt written all over your features. “I need to hear you say it one more time.”

You walked toward him until you stood close enough to see the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was this it? Would you actually give him a chance? Jake pressed his lips together and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself. 

“I like you,” he said as softly as a whisper. “Would you… Be my girlfriend?”

You looked at the ground, feigning a calmness when your mind was racing with thoughts too insane to vocalize. When you finally looked up again, your heart betrayed you. It skipped a beat at the way his gaze fell on yours, wide and hopeful. It almost hurt. He was too bright, too cute.

(Okay, so what if you liked him back. He didn’t have to know that.)

“Sure,” you said, forcing your voice to sound casual. Jake froze.

Then his entire face lit up. Suddenly, he was grinning from ear to ear, jumping in place like a dog begging for a treat. “Really? Like really? You’ll go out with me?!”

He took your hands in his, tenderly. Like he wasn't entirely sure the moment was real. You felt the dampness of his palms first, then the tug of his fingers intertwining with yours, like he had already rehearsed this part of his confession a thousand times in his head. Your cheeks warmed.

‘What a weirdo,’ you thought to yourself. It’s not like he’d just won the lottery. What was he so happy about?

“Just don’t make it weird,” you grumbled. “Keep it on the down low.”

Jake’s smile faltered, brows knitting together so tightly you were sure it’d leave a wrinkle on his cute face.

“Like… you don’t want people to know?” he asked, voice quieter now. You nodded, confused by his confusion. 

“Why would anyone need to know?” you asked genuinely. He frowned, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, silently asking you to reconsider.

“Not even Sunghoon or Jay?”

You scoffed. “Especially Sunghoon and Jay.”

“Why not?” he groaned. You just shrugged.

“I don’t want our dynamic to change just ‘cause we’re dating,” you reassured him, letting go of his hands to ruffle his hair. Like you always do when you tease him. Like that would make it all better. “And all that coupley PDA stuff draws too much attention anyway.”

You’d spent years cultivating your intimidating persona, and in your mind, it was simple. No one else needed to know that you were vulnerable to something as cringe-inducing as dating. The other students would only use it against you. For what? Who knows.

But you could just imagine the teasing glances and whispers in the hallways. If Jake were really serious about dating you, surely he’d be understanding of your aversion towards embarrassment. Right?

He didn't seem entirely convinced. At all. “So… what would be the difference then? Between us now and before?” 

You sighed and stepped past him.

“It's what we'd do in private, you know?” you muttered over your shoulder. “Kissing and all that…”

You didn’t see it, how Jake’s ears completely reddened or how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched at his side, like he was already imagining what it’d be like to hold you properly. To touch you. To kiss you. Like real couples do.

“D-do you want to see the ring I got you?” he blurted out, catching up to you. “I swear it’s lowkey. It has a ‘J’ engraved inside the band. I got a matching one with your initial, too! No one would even notice if you wore it—”

And you feel your heart thunder in your chest, scaring you into another sudden sprint. “Get the hell away from me, weirdo!” 

Your joined laughter echoed down the street as he chased after you. And even though he could catch up to you, he let you have your fun, staying just a little out of his reach.

–

Jake is very good at obeying orders, always has been. Especially after the first few times you glared at him for accidentally reaching for your hand in the cafeteria. He learned fast.

He tried his best not to show affection publicly, no matter how badly he wanted to wrap his blazer around your shivering frame when you would nap during class. He forced himself not to linger near you when you were loitering with your fellow delinquents by the school staircase, laughing at a joke he didn’t quite understand. He suppressed the urge to defend you from teachers who reprimanded you out in the hallways. Tried not to look behind at you for too long during football games he never played in anyway.

Once, someone asked him about his love life, and he instantly turned into a blushing, mumbling mess. And they laughed it off. It was Jake. No one thought twice. He was always like this. Awkward. Flustered.

The parasites he calls friends, Jay and Sunghoon, would probably go into cardiac arrest if they ever found out how he doted on you in private. How soft he was. How gentle.

You pretended not to notice. But ever the observer, Jake sees how your defenses weaken, ever so slightly, each day.

You let him put his arm around you in dark movie theaters instead of yanking it away. Let him stay for dinner with your parents when he comes over to help you study (because lord knows you need it). You stopped flinching when he called you ‘babe’ in private, sometimes responding without even questioning who he was speaking to. It was baby steps, but to Jake, it was everything.

Was it awkward? Yes. The way his glasses got in the way when he finally kissed you for the first time. Your noses bumped together. Too much tongue involved. It was a mess. Still life-changing, nevertheless. 

He replays the memory often. The two of you on your bed, him holding your plushie hostage, you trying to rip it out of his arms. The way you fell on top of him with your lips accidentally crashing on his. He pretended like the make-out session that occurred immediately after didn't absolutely ruin him.

Jake edged past the warmer parts of you when no one was around to bear witness. And you both were so good at keeping secrets. No one would have believed it anyway. You’d made sure of that.

–

“You two are very strange,” Jay commented, maybe a couple of months into your secret relationship. Every senior was gearing up for graduation, choosing which universities to attend or which path to take in life.

And of course, Jay and Sunghoon found out that Jake and you would both be attending the same university. Not just any school. A top one. Yonsei. 

Jake had earned a full-ride scholarship after finally getting off the damn bench and scoring four goals in a single match against the best high school team in the nation. Jake could've gone abroad to an Ivy League, but he chose not to. Because at Yonsei he could visit family more often, save a lot of money, and… well, keep you close, most of all.

And by the will of a higher being (Jake’s relentless tutoring), you somehow made it in as well.

“I thought you said you wanted to go straight into the workforce,” Jay questioned you. “Now you’re telling me you somehow, in some way, got into the same school as Jake? This fucking nerd?”

Sunghoon chimed in with a smile he always wore before teasing you. “I didn’t even think you could get into college, honestly.”

You wanted to hit him so bad, but you stopped yourself. Your resolution for the new school year was to turn over a new leaf. And that comes with not hitting annoying boys over the head with your fist. You could get arrested for that from now on... So instead, you used your words.

“You’re mad I got in, and you didn’t,” you snorted, sticking out your tongue as Jake snickered beside you. You sat close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder, but far enough apart to keep Jay and Sunghoon from noticing.

“You guys have no faith in her,” Jake sighed earnestly. “She’s really smart when she applies herself. She just needed a push, that's all.”

You glared at him, not sure if his comment was entirely a compliment. Yes, he played a role in your achievements. No, he could not credit himself for the hard work you put in to get that high-ass score on the college entrance exam. Even your teachers apologized for doubting you.

“Should’ve put those hours of tutoring her into me instead,” Jay groaned. “Now you’re gonna be all alone with no friends.”

Jake’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? S-she’s my friend.”

He stumbled over the words, clearly thrown off by the ominous comment. You watched him, amused. God, he was so obvious.

Sunghoon just looked between you two, doubt etched all over his face. “Barely,” he scoffed. “Trust me, bro, you are getting left behind as soon as she finds another victim willing to pay for all her food.”

You can start your resolution next week. This time, you really smacked him, sharp on his bicep. Sunghoon yelped.

“Why are you always so aggressive?” he whined, rubbing the sore spot with his arm. You raised your hand threateningly again, but you stopped yourself short. 

At the corner of your eye was Jake’s soured expression, a flash of worry obviously overcoming him. But you couldn’t comfort him. Not now. You wouldn’t hear the end of it from these two.

“You never know,” Jay chirped, faking thoughtfulness with a hand on his chin. “Jake might be too cool for us once school starts.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look and then burst into laughter.

“Ain’t gonna happen!” Sunghoon cackled, putting his whole gut into it. You joined in hesitantly, though your eyes kept drifting to your sullen boyfriend. And he wasn’t amused. Not at all.

Because he never found it funny, the idea of you leaving him behind.

–

“Do you think I’m weird?” Jake asked one evening, with you curled up beside him on your bed. Your knee draped over his stomach, his glasses pushed up just enough to rest comfortably against your pillow. On his late-night visits, your parents would come in to check if you two were truly studying as you claimed. After Jake gained their trust, they learned to leave the two of you alone (when they probably shouldn’t have).

Your eyes were shut tight to prepare yourself for an oncoming nap.

“Yes,” you said quickly, not even giving him time to process the response.

“Like… bad weird?” he asked after a second. He’d been thinking lately, after the conversation with his friends, how different the two of you really were.

How easy it was for you to stand up for yourself. Go against the grain. How you don’t automatically default to nods as he does or lose your train of thought mid-conversation. How you hated being touched by most people but would smack someone’s shoulder when you genuinely found something funny. 

He wanted that, wanted to see the world the way you saw it. To move around without hesitation. Even when people called you a troublemaker. Even when teachers scolded you for wearing your uniform skirt shorter than the dress code. How was confidence so natural for you?

“Bad weird,” you teased, eyes still closed. “But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

A small ache tugged at his heart. “You still like me though, right?”

You laughed. Jake loved to do this sometimes. Bait for reassurance. But you’re not that kind of fish.

“Who said I ever did?”

You said it jokingly, but a silence followed. You don’t quite catch it as you drift to sleep, the way Jake’s eyes dimmed.

“Oh,” he said disappointingly, staring at the ceiling.

Sometimes, he wondered if the reason you wanted your relationship to be private in the first place was because of him. If his inability to relate to your friends with secret tattoos and chains on their jeans made you embarrassed to be his girlfriend. 

Because you got along well with his friends just fine, could tease Jay and Sunghoon like you’d known them your whole life. But it was so hard for him to do the same with yours. To look natural when he joined that one karaoke hangout, where they looked at him expectantly because you had bragged that he could sing well.

You said it so proudly too, and he wanted to prove himself to them. That he was worthy to be in their presence. And then his voice had to crack.

“Should we get your friend some water?” someone joked, and the whole group laughed. With his cheeks red with embarrassment, Jake sat back down next to you, silent for the rest of the night. It was lame of him. Even he knew that. 

But even as he watched you defend him with all your heart, he couldn’t find himself to cheer up. Because in your world, he had always felt out of place. 

–

And so Jake did what he’s known to do best. Research.

He avoided WikiHow tutorials on how to ask out a girl and headed straight to the most honest part of the internet: Reddit.

‘makeover tips for guys’

‘how to gain more confidence’

‘how to be attractive enough that your girlfriend isn’t ashamed of you (serious responses only pls)’

He frequented the self-help section of the school library, took notes on everything from fashion advice to fixing his posture. He practiced eye contact with himself through the mirror until they watered, joined Sunghoon in the gym, and copied his weirdly intense routine.

Jake kept this process all to himself, much like your relationship. He learned to be good at that. Keeping secrets.

He would reinvent himself for university. Become someone you’d be proud to show off because he didn’t want to feel like this anymore. Like he would fall behind. And knowing you… he wasn’t sure if you’d bother to look back and see if your loyal puppy was still there trailing behind you. 

–

present. 

So that’s how your relationship’s been going so far. While Jake was on this great journey to undergo metamorphosis, there were no real complaints on your side.

So why was it like this now? 

Waiting for your very late boyfriend, who was making you miss the first minutes of the university’s freshman orientation ceremony. You almost text him a paragraph about how, usually, you're the unpunctual one in the relationship, but a stranger approaches you.

“BOO!” 

You almost let out a scream when you notice who it is. Or who you think it is. Is it who you think it is?

Because instead of wild, unruly hair hiding his eyebrows and big black frames resting on his nose bridge, your boyfriend looked like someone else entirely. His hair was styled in a middle part, framing his handsome features perfectly. Instead of his usual oversized hoodie with holes on the sleeves masking his athletic body, he’s wearing a varsity jacket and a simple white shirt that clung way too well to his muscular frame. You could even see the faint outline of contact lenses in the whites of his eyes.

Your eyelashes flutter in confusion. You literally just saw him yesterday. When did he find the time to get a haircut and invest in a new closet?

Jake steps forward with a small, hopeful smile and holds out a box of egg tarts. Did it add to his already late ETA? Yes, but he always thinks about you and what you'd like to eat. Could you blame him for getting you a sweet treat?

But that wasn’t the part you were really focused on.

“Who are you and what did you do to Jake?” you ask, fists raised like a boxer. He chuckles nervously, bringing the pastry box back to his side.

“Do I look weird?” he asks quietly, shifting his feet. The vulnerability in his voice made you lower your hands instantly.

“So…” you start, eyes looking him up and down. “This is on purpose? Like, Sunghoon didn’t put you up to this? Or Jay?”

He pouts. His mom practically screamed, “So handsome!” when he showed her his new look over video call. So, why was your reaction like this? 

“I just thought… new school year, new me! No?” he says, puffing up with pride.

You shake your head, moving your hand on instinct to ruffle his freshly styled hair. But he catches your wrist before you can touch him. You pull away, heart squeezing a bit, knowing that he dodged one of your rare bouts of affection. Or whatever you call it.

“It took me forever to get my hair to look like this,” he mutters, looking away. “Don’t want my hard work to go to waste.”

You click your tongue, trudging past him. Since when did he care about what his hair looked like? This was the same guy who showed up to graduation with a T-shirt and sneakers and got confused when the teachers asked him to go back home and change.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “No more standing around. We have to go—”

“Still not wearing the ring?” he asks, catching up to you. He noticed it earlier when he caught your arm. 

When Jake gave it to you just a year before, he set no expectation for you to wear it. He really hadn’t… But it has been a year. Wasn’t it about time? He wears his everyday…

You suck in your teeth and glare at him. “Why would I?” 

He flinches. And you start to feel guilt bubbling in your chest as his steps start slowing next to you.

“It’s just…” he mumbles. “It’s not like we’re in high school anymore. No one’s even gonna notice. And no one’s gonna care if we’re dating.”

You roll your eyes. You care. You still had a reputation to uphold. Maybe not as a troublemaker anymore. But still. Something about wearing your boyfriend’s ring for everyone to see and question seemed like your own personal hell. Who would want to be the center of attention as a university freshman?

“It’s the principle,” you say, not really knowing what you mean by it either. Because you are wearing it. Just not on your finger. It hangs around your neck, hidden underneath your blouse. But Jake didn’t have to know that.

You would rather die than give anyone the satisfaction of knowing you were smitten with this man. Soft, but only for him. Your biggest weakness.

“So are we always just gonna be a secret?” he sighs. You turn to face him, but you keep it pushing. It’s too much to explain right now. Or ever.

“Come on,” you insist. “We need to get to the orientation.”

–

Indeed, it wasn’t high school anymore. Because everywhere you turn, Jake’s name is being brought up.

“The hot guy on the football team—”

“He set the curve on the first exam and proved Professor Kim wrong on the board—”

“I saw him help a grandma cross the street. Soooo dreamy—”

It was enough to almost make you pull your hair out of your head. This was Jake they were talking about! The guy who was too shy to ask for no pickles in his damn burgers, who used to let Sunghoon copy off his homework and then rewrote his own just to make sure the teachers wouldn’t catch on. This was your Jake.

You take a moment to breathe.

You sound crazy. Deranged, even. It shouldn’t even matter. Jake was always good-looking! People just never noticed or took the time to appreciate him outside of his ability to decode the most difficult of physics equations.

“A couple of guys from the team think I’d look good with a sweatband,” he says, showing you a photo during a late-night walk. He’s shoving his phone screen to your face, and you pout at the sight. His hair pushed back, forehead glistening. A perfect view of his beautiful, dark eyes. 

“Nah,” you say dismissively, trying to push down the fluttering in your heart. He tilts his head, staring at the photo once more.

“Really?” he mutters. “I thought it looked pretty good.”

“Do you really wanna look like Jay in junior year? He’s gonna tell you that you copied him.”

He gives a small sound of acknowledgement. You could tell he’s taking your comment seriously, like you said something truly eye-opening.

“You’re right,” he nods. “Then, how do you feel about a lip piercing?”

Your brows furrow at the thought of metal against his pouty lips. The way his teeth would tug on it. The effect he would have on all of his newfound admirers…

“Absolutely not!” 

Yeah, you were losing it.

–

No, really, you might actually be going insane.

It was hard enough for you to create genuine friendships at Yonsei, full of stuck-up rich kids who only managed to get in through elite cram schools and expensive tutors. But after a few polite conversations, their masks fell to show their true intentions. You know now that you are being used as a shortcut to get on Jake’s radar. 

Because why do people you’ve never met before suddenly feel comfortable enough to ask you to introduce them to him? Why do they request to follow you on Instagram only so they can find his account more easily? And what pisses you off most—the question they always ask, without fail: “Is he single?”

And you know there's a quick answer you can give. A very simple solution to your eye-twitching problem. Because every time someone high-fives him in the corridors or bats their eyelashes flirtatiously in his direction, you have the overwhelming urge to just pounce on him. To wrap your arms around his middle and never let him leave your sight. 

But you can’t. Your pride is too big, your ego too fragile to admit that someone actually managed to slip past the cold exteriors of your heart. So instead, you're waiting impatiently for him to reply to your text.

He's not at practice. He's supposed to be on his way. So where the hell was he?

jake: sorry! study group went for a lil bit longer than I thought. everyone kept asking me for help haha. omw!

And then he sends a photo. It's a group selfie, with him in the middle. Three girls on his right and another two on his left, surrounding him like a piece of meat.

you: dont bother coming. im sick.

With envy, maybe. But you're perfectly healthy.

jake: im sorry babe :( you feeling okay? want me to get you anything from the store?

you: Nah.

You almost scream. There's so much you want to say and admit, but your fingers won’t type any of it. You really don't deserve him. He's so nice, and you're so… Fuck.

Why is it so hard to admit to your own boyfriend that you miss him?!

jake: ok :( I love you!

Your stomach flips.

Haha… You needed professional help. Really.

–

Jake was better at football than the bench in high school ever suggested. Senior hierarchy was everything at Yonsei. A starter as a freshman was practically unheard of before Jake. How he managed to level up from being a designated benchwarmer to being on the field at all times felt like whiplash.

Did he just have this in him this whole time?

I mean, you guess he looked kind of cool out there, all sweaty and serious-looking. Shouting call-outs to his team mid-game. Your legs squirm at the sight. He really needs to put on his damn glasses. (Though knowing you, that might only make things worse.)

You sit there, wearing the university colors of white and blue, holding onto a sign that says “Go Team!”

You would have made something with his name on it, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You could not bear to give the stupid boys beside you the ammo of watching you scream Jake’s name and go crazy over his goals. So instead, you silently watch and admire as he steals the ball yet again.

Jay and Sunghoon, decked out in the rival school’s signature red for no reason whatsoever (they don’t even attend that university either), stood on either side of you with a level of passion you’ve never seen from them before.

“GET HIS ASS!” Jay screams. “Play the mental game! When Player 15 cries, he calls his mom first—”

Player 15 would happen to be Jake.

“The guy with ‘Sim’ in the back of his jersey loves to sing Celine Dion in the shower—”

You groan as heads turn, not enjoying the various glares and snide remarks from your surrounding schoolmates. You still haven't made any substantial friends yet at university. Being associated with these bozos would only make it that much harder. This would be the last time you sneak them into the student section. 

“Can you two please sit down?” you mutter. “We’re ahead by like four goals. Psychological warfare is not enough for Jake to lose.”

Sunghoon drops back into his seat with a huff, cracking his neck.

“This won’t do,” he mutters. “Jake’s gonna surpass me in Instagram followers if he wins this.”

Jay chuckles on your left side, still standing and selfishly blocking the view of everyone behind him. “If he wins, you think he’ll invite us to their celebration party after?”

Your brows furrow. “What party?”

Jay finally sits down when the opposing team calls a time-out, one eyebrow raised at your confused expression. “Isn’t that like a thing every school does? First big game of the year, there’s bound to be something.”

Sunghoon nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s like common knowledge.”

You almost pout before catching yourself. Jake never mentioned anything about a party. 

So when the game ended and, of course, Yonsei won, the two boys could not help but ask. 

“So there’s a party, right?”

“And you’re taking us?”

Jake looks between the two of them, forehead glistening and hair damp with sweat.

“What party?” he asks, and you smile gingerly. That’s right! You weren’t crazy. He would’ve told you if there was—

“You have to go to the party, Jakey!” a voice chirps from behind you.

You recognize her. The team manager of the football team. Short hair and a cute button nose. Very pretty. Your eyes cut between Jake and her. Wait.

Jakey? Who the hell calls him that?

Jay and Sunghoon give each other some shifty glances and step aside, letting the girl join the conversation. You feel this weird inclination to move closer to Jake, but you suppress the urge. 

“Hm?” Jake finally replies, confused more than ever. “No one told me about a party.”

The girl giggles. What even was her name?

“Oh, Jakey! Since you’re a freshman, I’ll give you the rundown.” 

She scooches in between you two, pushing you slightly to the side. The boys don’t seem to notice, and you have half your sense not to shove the girl right back.

“Whenever we win,” she starts, “the whole school goes to En Bar nearby and takes it over! Free drinks and everything. You’re our star player, so you definitely can’t miss it. Your friends are invited too, of course.”

She looks between Jay and Sunghoon, not even sparing you a glance.

Jake scratches the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I’m actually feeling pretty tired—” 

“We’ll be there!” Jay and Sunghoon say instantly. You raise your eyebrow at them, and the two brush it off.

“We’ll make sure he comes,” Jay laughs, slapping Jake hard on the shoulder. Having gotten hit by the ball in that exact spot just an hour before, he winces.

“I’m not really—”

“Great!” the girl smiles, clapping her hands together. “I’ll see you all there then?” 

Of course, her back is fully turned towards you. Dumb and dumber nod in unison, and as the girl walks off, they push at each other excitedly.

“First college party,” they cry out in joy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You two are pathetic.”

Jake nods slowly in agreement. “Well… you guys have fun. I think I’m just gonna head back to my dorm and shower…”

“And get ready, right?” Sunghoon says dangerously, wagging a finger at him. “Because you are coming, right?”

Jake shivers under his friends’ threatening glares. But what really scares him is when his eyes find yours. You look pissed. Fuck. What did he do this time?

“I mean… I guess I could pop in…” Jake says reluctantly. He sneaks in another glance in your direction and sees that your frown grows even deeper. Was that the wrong thing to say?

“Babe?” Jake calls after you as you stride across campus, shivering in your t-shirt and mini skirt. “Why are you walking so fast?”

It’s dark now, save for the dim street lamps. You stop abruptly, and he almost bumps into you. When you turn, your jaw is already clenched.

“Am I crazy, or did that girl just completely ignore me?” you ask genuinely, voice at the seams of losing composure. Because what the fuck was her problem?

Jake laughs nervously. “Choa? I thought she seemed pretty friendly?”

Your expression sours. “Yeah, maybe a little too friendly,” you say under your breath. Jake catches it.

“Wait,” he says with a shit-eating grin, leaning in. “Babe… are you jealous? Hm?”

Your cheeks heat up, arms crossing like a toddler. “Fuck off.”

He laughs now, twisting you around and guiding you forward with an arm around your shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, babeeee…”

He notices how you don’t pull away from his touch, when normally you would hiss something like, “people are watching,” or something like that. Jake bites back an even bigger smile. You just let him hold you.

The walk to his dorm was peachy for him, save for the fact that his sweaty arm stank up your shirt.

You! Jealous. This has to be a dream. When you reach his room, shared with a sophomore named Heeseung who never seems to be around, you sit on Jake’s bed, still reeling from the earlier interaction.

“Am I overreacting?” you ask him, not at all bothered that he was taking his jersey off. You’re well past the stage of pretending his bare torso flusters you. “Like… did it not seem like she wanted you?”

Jake laughs, wiping his underarms with a nearby towel. “Me? Babe, no. That’s out of the question. She's like four years older than us—”

You roll your eyes. “So where the fuck did ‘Jakey’ come from?”

He shrugs, catching his reflection in the wall mirror hanging on his door. His muscles flex in a way that makes your eyes travel down his well-toned back…

You snap your gaze back to the wall. No. Focus. You’re supposed to be mad.

“New year, new nickname?” he offers, teasingly.

You throw a pillow at his head. Like the athlete he is, Jake dodges it. He turns to you, laughing, amused by how sulky and adorable you look on his bed. Brows furrowed in contemplation, tugging your legs close to your chest. Your plush thighs in your pretty little skirt that would have gotten you dress-coded back in high school with your knee-high socks and…

Fuck. 

“It’s not like I care,” you mumble, unconvincingly. 

Jake huffs out something that sounds like a chuckle, but his thoughts are elsewhere. His mind (and eyes) are on the edge of your skirt. He places a hand on your thigh and rubs it softly. To you, it felt like reassurance, and it was. But he was also incredibly horny.

“Babe,” his words drawl. “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his for a split second before he plants a wet kiss on your cheek. “Hey—”

He chuckles as he plants another on your nose. Then your chin. And then your other cheek. And now you’re trying to push him away, but he holds your wrists to prevent you from stopping his incessant attacks. 

“Jake—You stink—Freak!” You try to say as his lips find yours, while he’s giggling up a storm. So cute. You're so fucking cute. 

His next kiss is deep, drawing out your breath sharply. Your back is on the bed now with Jake on top, his hands still wrapped around your wrists.

Jake’s lips move against yours, your eyes fluttering shut. His tongue prods and pushes in, his taste so sweet and heavy as you breathe in his weirdly intoxicating scent. Like fresh laundry doused in the salt of his sweat. You clench his biceps as he comes up from the kiss to catch some air.

He looks at you, face flushed and mouth parted. 

“I’m hard,” he blurts out, and you smack him on his naked chest.

“What do you want me to do about that?” you mutter as you start to feel him press against your stomach. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. He lets out a groan, grinding onto you just to feel any part of you against his football shorts. You let out a squeak, clenching at his toned muscles harder.

“You’re not coming with?” he asks, and you can hear the shakiness in his breath. You smirk, wrapping your legs around him and shifting up so that his tent could meet your core. Jake fit between you so snugly.

His head lifts to meet yours, pupils already so dilated.

“Why would I?” you say through hooded eyes, and you could visibly see him gulp. It almost makes you laugh. But instead, you tease him, moving your hips up to graze his bulge. 

“I have time,” he groans quickly. “For this. Or whatever you want to do. Like I’m really down for any—”

You roll your eyes, gripping the back of his head to smash him back down to your lips. Your movements are messy, tongues clashing at a feverish pace. He’s still sore from earlier, but like hell he would let this opportunity go. Not when you looked this fucking good. And angry too. (For him, these things aren’t mutually exclusive...)

With trembling fingers, he lifts your shirt and almost moans at the sight of your bare skin. While he wants to thank you for saving him the trouble of not fiddling with a bra clasp, you pat yourself on the back for leaving your necklace at home.

Knowing how frisky Jake gets after the adrenaline of a good win runs through him, it was the right call. You don’t think you could handle Jake seeing you so jealous while having his ring resting on your chest. Yeah, you’d probably die right in front of him.

His hands grab your tits softly, massaging them between his fingers. Jake dips down, swallowing a nipple in his mouth as he watches you sigh out in pleasure.

He’s confident in one thing when it comes to you, and it was this right here. He could make your tough exterior melt just as long as you were under him. Or over him. He has no preference.

His tongue circles your bud, tugging with his teeth lightly. 

“Jake—” When he hears you squeak, his dick twitches with anticipation. So pliant now. What happened to that dominance earlier? He’d like to see it come back…

He moves on to the other breast, licking and massaging so it doesn't feel too neglected. Jake loves your tits, could be buried between them for the rest of his life if you let him. But now isn't the time! He has a very mean and very jealous, but also very hot, girlfriend to please. And maybe some party to make it to, who knows.

Jake pulls his shorts down roughly, just enough so that he can take his dick out. Already so big, the bulbous tip weeps with desire for you. He’s palming himself, relishing in how your eyes shut tight, lips parted open as his wet, pink muscle traces circles over your sensitive skin.

He’s nipping the top of your breasts now, careful not to leave marks in visible areas. Jake knows how you get about that sort of thing. 

His fingers drag your white, damp panties off your legs, but keeps your skirt on. And the knee-high socks for good measure. His hand meets your core, pushing down on your clit with a heavy pressure he knows you like.

You gasp, covering your eyes with your forearm. You’re so embarrassed. The noises you're making are unbecoming of you. All he does is laugh. Still so sensitive during sex after a whole year of dating. And he’s supposed to be the shy one.

His fingers drag slowly on your folds as he spreads your juices all over his digits. Jake might just cum in his pants with how soft your tits feel as he nestles his head in between them. 

He pushes two fingers in right away, and you draw out a sharp breath. You almost hit him on the shoulder. He has no idea how big his hands are. How sometimes you would eye them whenever he helps you with homework. Veiny, like his cock.

He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, wet squelches echoing through the room. 

“Ngh—Mmm—” you groan, arching your back to meet his movements. Impatient. You’re always so impatient.

“JAKE!” you cry out, when he rubs over a certain spot.

He looks up at you from his comfortable position between the valley of your chest, and with a teasing glint in his eyes, he says, “You mean Jakey?”

And it’s not an exaggeration in the least to say that you start seeing red. You grab his wrist, the pads of your fingers digging into his flesh. He stops his movements, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes like he did something wrong. And he did. Something very. Very. Wrong.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tease—”

You pull his fingers out of you. With one swift movement, you grab him by his shoulders and push him down onto the bed. You’re hovering over him now, eyes dark.

Jake swallows nervously. Why’d you have to look so hot when provoked?

“Did I ruin the vibe or…”

“Shut up,” you growl, crashing your lips onto his. He tries to hold your waist to offer support, but you hold his wrists down onto the sheets. He could probably push you off very easily. But he doesn’t. Because he loves seeing you like this. Loves the urgency in your touch.

You want him! And you’re showing it! His heart is practically doing backflips in his chest.

Your tongue explores the inside of Jake’s mouth, licking the roof of it in a way that has him seeing stars. You’re so rough with it. Sucking on his, biting his lip, moving so desperately against him.

“Babe—” he tries to say in between your assaults on his mouth. But it comes out in a breathless whisper when he feels you grinding your slick pussy against him.

“I said,” you say through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”

He almost moans when his leaking tip hits your clit. Just the contact alone has the back of his head hitting the pillow roughly. But he forces himself to watch as you move against him as he offers no assistance. Your grip on his wrists moves to the sheets as you focus on grinding against his dick. Swiveling yourself on him back and forth. Rubbing and rubbing. But it’s not enough. He needs to be inside. Needs to feel you right now.

Your breath is on his neck now, riling yourself up at his stunt. Jakey? What grown woman calls someone that? Choa and her nice ass bob... Fuck her!

“Ngh—” he lets out as you suction an erogenous zone on his neck, sucking and biting him like a vampire. Your tongue lapping at his skin to soothe him from the brutal assaults of your teeth. You close your eyes to relish in his taste. So salty from sweat, but still so sweet. But you’re distracted now as Jake breaks free from your hold. He grips your ass with one hand, the other guiding his pulsing member to your slippery entrance.

“Wha—” 

He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Can I, baby?” Jake begs, cheeks tinged pink. “Please?”

You bite back a smile. What a fucking loser.

You push down on him, just slightly, just enough for his bulbous tip to slip inside. His grip on your ass is now slack. He doesn't even want to fight back, really.

“Fuck—” Jake’s mouth parts open, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes when you come back up. No longer inside you, he groans.

“Whyyy,” he whines. “I said I’m sorry—”

He inhales a sharp breath when you engulf his tip again, tightening around him just a little harder. 

“Do you like being called Jakey?” you question darkly. “Like it when other girls feel up on you?”

He shakes his head desperately. “No—Only you—” he says through pained groans.

And then you lift again, laughing at his pathetic form. “I don’t believe you.”

He’s practically writhing underneath you now, his mushroom tip pulsing against your folds. Your skirt hides it all from view, and he just wishes he could rip it off you. Give you a new one, much, much shorter, so he can see everything better. 

But only if you let him.

“You’re literally torturing me,” he whimpers, hips jutting up messily. He keeps missing your entrance, the one he desperately needs to be buried in. “Need to feel you right now—”

“What’s it to me?” you ask meanly, your thumb prodding at his bottom lip. His tongue comes out to lick at the pad of your thumb, sucking it ever-so-slightly. You enjoy this view. Him underneath you. Pleading. Whining. Like he's starving. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” Jake offers through the haziness of his lust. Not entirely conscious of how desperate he sounds. “You can use me however you want. I’ll literally do anything. Just please—”

And then you sink, so slowly that his eyes roll to the back of his head. The devil. His girlfriend is the devil.

“Babe—” You shut him up with another open-mouthed kiss. Messy, just how he likes it.

He grips his hands into yours as you suckle his tongue, intertwining your fingers together. You try not to wince as you sheath him fully, realizing now that you were overconfident in taking control before he could properly prep you.

Usually, sex was an hours-long ordeal with Jake. He likes to finger you, then eat you out, then repeat, until he can slip into your slick warmth with little issue. Sex is the only time you don’t deny him the pleasure of seeing you flustered over him. Over what he could do for you. What he could provide you if you let him tell everyone in the world that he’s yours. 

Regardless, Jake will always be long and thick, and he still stretches you out so deliciously. Your mouths clash against each other, swallowing back both of your moans as saliva pools at the sides of his bruised lips.

Depraved. That’s all you could think of when Jake bottoms out inside you. He’s so sweaty now, the scent so musky that it drives you insane. Do other girls smell these pheromones when he’s around? Or is this just you and your hypersensitivity to everything that involves him?

You’re moving up and down now, with shallow thrusts that do little to satiate the flame in your stomach. You don’t do this enough—take control enough. Your knees are already weak, wobbling, as you grind down on him.

But you push through it as you continue to impale yourself on his cock, gummy walls clenching him tightly with each thrust. You want to get him off like this, even if your whole body is trembling above him. 

And it’s not like Jake doesn’t notice. But like the little shit he is, he doesn’t feel like helping. Because he enjoys the feeling too much, of your breasts bouncing filthily against his chest. When you lift yourself from his lips so that you can focus on riding him, he finds it so endearing. How you put your hands on his abdomen to steady yourself, how you fuck yourself on his length. How much you struggle to take all of him in. Not sure what to do with yourself.

‘My poor baby,’ Jake thinks, chuckling at how tight your eyes shut just to feel him better. 

“Need help?” he hums, his hand drawing circles on your hip. You shake your head, teeth gritted.

“N-no,” you try to muster out, but it’s unconvincing. Your movements are stuttering, moans slipping out of your mouth too easily. He smirks. His little pillow princess. 

Jake, with his grip on your hips, pulls you down onto his cock. Hard. You gasp as his hips snap up with it.

“Ah—” you cry out, your nails now digging into his shoulder blades. He pounds into a spot that had you almost come undone at that very moment. How did he get so good at this?

Jake lifts you, all the way until his pink tip is the only thing in your wet pussy. Then, as harshly as he could, he pushes you down on him, his thickness grazing at your deepest parts. And he does this again and again until you collapse onto his chest from the roughness of his thrusts.

“I’m gonna—Ngh—Fuck—You—” you try to say through your moans, try to sound angry. But you love it. Love how tight he grabs your bum. Love the slight stretch of pain as he stuffs you full of him. Love that trickle of spit that falls out of his mouth as his back lifts off the bed to feel you better. Ugh, you hate him.

“JAKE—”

“Shhh, baby, ” he whispers, forcing your face into the crook of his neck. “Just take it.”

Jake plunges up into you, propelling your hips down with his harsh grip. He lifts a heavy hand, smacking your ass from behind as you try to match his timing. You scream. He does it again, massaging the tender spot. The pain mixes with the pleasure, as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You feel your climax building now as your lips find his neck again, sucking and biting. Marking him. Let everyone know that he’s yours. That you own him.

“Babe…” he whines, too lost in the suctioning of your tightness to really care. Because he’s close too. So fucking close. 

Jake’s arms move up to your back, caging you into a bear-like embrace. His feet plant themselves on the bed, as his dick shoves into you with newfound energy. He’s going so fast, you could practically hear the speed. Feel it too. The wet squelches of his balls slapping against your ass. You move with him, trying to sync your rhythm to his.

“Mmm—Ahh—” your moans jumble into each other. Your legs are trembling, even more than they were before. A searing feeling within you continues to build and build. A single, full thrust from him has you biting into his neck brutally, stifling your moans as your orgasm crashes through you in waves. 

“Shit—” he cries out, from both the pain of your teeth and the pleasure of your cunt's constricting grip. You grind down on him, whimpering into his skin, back arched to ease yourself through the sensitivity.

Jake’s dick twitches in you once, then twice. He pushes you off of him and onto the bed, harsher than he intended. But he doesn’t have a condom on, and... he likes the way you look in white.

He hovers over you now, his painfully hard length in his hand. He’s stroking himself with urgency, fist wrapped around himself with a panicked grip. He’s watching you intently as you splay out underneath him. So fucking pretty for him. Lips bruised and bitten so sensually. Legs opened with your juices glistening on the inside of your thighs. Maybe he should stuff his cock into your—

“Fuck—” he groans, mouth parting at the sight of his thick ropes of cum spurting out of him, coating your stomach and tits. He strokes slowly, pumping all that he’s worth onto your body. You welcome it, eyes drinking in his flushed demeanor.

“I love you,” Jake mutters as he comes down from his high. And you don’t say anything back, distracted as your fingers coat themselves on the sticky fluids on your skin. Such a mess, both of you.

You hear it then. Intense vibrations on his nightstand. Jake’s phone, very much neglected, is blowing up with texts and calls. Was it going off like that the whole time? Then his eyes go wide like saucers.

“Shit! The party—” 

Your eyes narrow. Before he can pick it up, you grab the nape of his neck to pull him down into another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrap around Jake once more, smirking as you feel him melt into you with little resistance.

“What party?”

morning after.

“You’re a bitchhhh,” Sunghoon cries out, over a FaceTime call that Jake was forced to pick up at nine in the morning. You were already gone by then, running late to your morning lecture. 

Heeseung, thankfully, still hadn’t returned to the dorm. Or else you wouldn’t have been able to stay over and let Jake devour you a few more times, but that’s besides the point. He starts humming happily to himself with the memories of last night still fresh in his mind.

“They wouldn’t even let me into the bar because I was wearing the wrong colors,” his friend continues to complain.

“I get it, I get it,” Jake replies, only half-listening. He’s fixing his outfit in the mirror, admiring how well a polo shirt fits him. It’s weird. He’s getting used to not looking like a dweeb all the time, just a few weeks into his big transformation, even with his glasses on right now.

“Yo, do you think these pants look better with a belt or nah?” he asks, not really sparing Sunghoon a glance. He adjusts his shirt’s collar slightly until—

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

Jake jumps, phone nearly dropping from the desk he sat it on.

“WHAT IS THAT?!”

“What? What?!” Jake snaps his head to look behind himself, like Sunghoon might have seen a ghost.

“Did you get eaten by a fucking lion?!” Sunghoon gawks. Jake’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

Damn, he forgot.

“W-what are you talking about?” he mutters unconvincingly, slowly coming out of frame. He strips the polo off in a panic, digging through his closet until he finds a turtleneck. It’s autumn anyway. This is fine, right?

“Our friendship is done,” Sunghoon deadpans at the camera. “You got fucking laid and didn’t tell me?! I mean, I understand Jay, he’d make it weird. BUT NOT EVEN ME?!”

Jake shakes his head, tugging the turtleneck on. He tries to roll up his sleeves to look more casual, but now he looks like Steve Jobs. Shit. He should put his contacts on.

“So who is it?!” Sunghoon presses. “Who’s the unlucky girl?” 

 When Jake doesn’t reply, Sunghoon gasps.

“Unlucky guy?!”

“Man, shut up!” Jake cries, snatching his phone off the desk and coming back into frame. “Please don’t tell Jay.”

–

“Okay, so he told Jay,” he blurts, shielding himself with his arm like you’re about to hit him. “Please don’t get mad at me.”

You almost asked why he was wearing a turtleneck in relatively warm weather when he tugged the collar down to show his neck. Absolutely purple and bruised. And yes. Maybe a dark, suppressed part of you jumped with glee. But the more rational part started cursing yourself out.

“I can’t believe you’d video call him the morning after,” you groan, massaging your temple with your fingers. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. What was I even thinking?!”

Jake gives you a sly smile. “I mean, I’m not complaining—”

You shoot him another icy stare, and he stops. 

“W-well, it’s not like they know that it’s you! They probably think it’s someone else…”

You inhale a sharp breath at the thought. Was he gonna tell them the hickeys on his neck were from someone else? Who? Choa?

“Whatever,” you mutter, whipping around as your bag purposely smacked his bicep. You walk off, fists clenched, ignoring Jake’s calls out to you. 

Fucking Choa.

–

A full week has passed since the disaster that was Sunghoon seeing Jake’s bruised neck. Your boyfriend only felt safe enough to see the two idiots once the marks faded, and even then, he was a little disappointed to wake up and see them all gone. 

“So run it through with me again,” Jay requests, leaning over the boiling hot pot broth. The boys sit in a dimly lit restaurant with a stage in the back. 

“Like, you were just walking back to your dorm and boom—you found a rando to hook up with out of nowhere?!” Jay questions, dropping tofu into the soup so aggressively that it splashes Jake’s wrist.

“Why are you making up fantasies in your head about my sex life?” Jake mutters, pushing his glasses up his face. He was too lazy to put his contacts on just to hang out with these two. “I plead the fifth.”

“Bro, I thought you were a virgin this whole time!” Sunghoon adds unhelpfully. “Excuse us for trying to be supportive.”

Jake rolls his eyes, struggling to grab an udon noodle with his chopsticks.

“Wait,” Jay says through the hot pot steam. “Weren’t you walking with [Y/N] that night?”

Jake gulps, throat bobbing as he fiddles with the noodle more to avoid suspicion.

“Right!” Sunghoon snaps his fingers, and for a second, Jake’s life flashes before his eyes. They know. They have to! Fuck, you’re gonna be so mad at him—

“Why don’t we just ask her who it was?”

Jake stares at them and breaks out into a nervous laugh. Never in his life was he happier to have a more idiotic set of childhood friends.

“Please do,” Jake smiles, wondering how you would weasel out of that conversation with them. “She knows her very well…”

A piercing sound of microphone feedback ricochets through the restaurant. The three cover their ears as everyone’s attention turns to the neglected stage.

“Who wants to sing?! It's open mic night!” the restaurant owner booms. When a deafening silence fills the air, Jay lifts Jake’s hand straight into the air without hesitation.

“This guy loves Celine Dion!” he cries out as Jake tries to yank his arm back down. He curses at his friend, but to no avail.

“Okay!” the owner shouts excitedly. “Come on right up, sir!” 

Jay and Sunghoon practically drag Jake up the stage, laughing themselves all the way back to their seats in the far back of the restaurant. Jake stands frozen as dozens of strangers stare at him, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket, and brushes his hair back. He couldn't bear to look at all these blank faces staring at him. Confidence. This is all about confidence.

When ‘My Heart Will Go On' starts echoing through the restaurant walls, Jake’s face flushes all the way red. This is exposure therapy; he tries to cope with himself. If he could do this, he could probably build up the courage to ask you about going public. So that his friends stop thinking he’s a loser. Maybe for you to stop thinking it, too.

He sucks in a deep breath. What’s the difference between this and a showerhead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

“Every night in my dreams, I see youuuu… I feel youuu…” he starts slowly, welcomed with a soft gasp from an audience member. Jay and Sunghoon’s laughter dies as Jake sings. Shit. He was actually doing it. And he sounded good, too. Like an angel. Was Jay crying?

Jake loses himself in the slow melody of the song, singing his heart out as he does in every postgame shower. ‘This one’s for you, babe,’ he thinks. Wherever you are… 

When the song ends and Jake’s eyes open, he’s met with a standing ovation. At a damn hot pot restaurant. Jay and Sunghoon are cheering the loudest, holding their hearts like their once-nerdy best friend was their child at a talent show. The owner comes up to the stage, sniffling.

“Give it up for this random kid!”

As Jake makes his way back to the table, he holds his head up high. He couldn’t have imagined doing this a year before, let alone ordering food at a kiosk without stuttering. It’s like taking off his glasses gave him super powers.

“Excuse me—” Jake turns around. A girl with long flowing hair stops him. 

“Are you Jake Sim? The freshman on the football team?” she asks, eyes bright. He nods. Does he know her?

“I’m Suji from the Dance department.” She bows slightly. “Your performance was incredible, by the way!” 

He nods, giving a small “thanks,” before he turns back around.

“Actually!” She calls after him. He stops again. “I just wanted to ask if you were interested in auditioning to be the male lead of our upcoming musical! It’s about a football player who finds passion in singing and dancing. I just thought it would fit you so well!”

Jake turns back to face the stranger. He ponders deeply. A musical? Him? He’d never thought about it before, but what the hell! He guesses he’s the type to try new things now. The power of a good haircut, maybe.

“I’ll think about it,” he says with a polite smile. 

Suji grins back. “Auditions start tomorrow. We’d love to have you.”

By the time Jake finds his way back to his seat, his friends are already geeking.

“You pulled another?!” Jay cries in anguish, biting his fist. “I should have gone up there. That should have been me! Damn it!”

“It’s not fair,” Sunghoon wails, leaning his head dramatically against the wall. “You had no play in high school. Like absolutely zero bitches—”

Jake snorts, scrounging for his glasses once more to slip them back on. “She was just asking me to audition for some musical.”

“I’m sure she was,” Jay says with a smirk. “I’m sure she’s staring straight at your back right now because she wants you in that musical soooo bad.”

Jake shifts in his chair uncomfortably, and sure enough, Suji is watching him. She shoots up her arm to wave. He looks back at his friends with a confused glance.

“Maybe they’re desperate?”

Sunghoon groans. “I’m gonna call [Y/N]. Let’s get her expertise on this.”

“Don’t!” Jake lunges, trying to grab Sunghoon’s phone as he takes it out of his pocket. But then flashes from that night start playing in his head. You above him. Riding him. Gripping his shoulders. Your lips on his neck, marking him until he whined and begged. All at the mere mention of Choa’s weird pet name for him. Jake clears his throat and sits back, not even trying to hide the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“...Yeah,” he says more casually. “Ask her.”

–

ma baby: Come over. Now.

Jake receives your text after Sunghoon’s impromptu call, bringing his hands together in a prayer position to the sky. Thank you to whatever higher being was watching over him.

When he reaches your residence hall, you’re waiting outside your door in pajamas, foot tapping impatiently against the carpet. You start glaring at his silhouette even before he comes into view. 

“So,” you start slowly, “you just let anyone talk to you these days?”

Jake’s already giddy. Yes… Be angry with him… Let him in your dorm room and reprimand him, while you’re at it…

“Babeeee,” he teases, his arms already reaching for yours. You dodge him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you reply flatly. “I’m just wondering when you started serenading restaurants and accepting invitations from random girls?”

“Just thought I could finally get some appreciation for my many talents,” he says teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you saying I don’t appreciate you?” you ask, not at all amused by his playful gaze. “I tell you all the time that you’re smart!”

He chuckles. “Everyone and your mom knows that by now, babe.”

You narrow your eyes. ‘He’s learning how to fight back,’ you think sourly. 

“So you enjoyed that girl's appreciation, then?” you counter, knowing that you were riling yourself up by asking such a loaded question. Jake bites his lip to stifle a smile. There it is. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, pushing his glasses up. “I think I might actually consider auditioning!”

And this part is genuine. He’s always enjoyed singing. It could be a cool new experience, especially since he shied away from doing theater back in high school. Maybe now was his moment to shine... But when he notices how your expression darkens, he’s suddenly excited to audition for the musical for a whole different reason.

You look around the hallway, checking to see if anyone's coming by. Then you pull him by the collar and into your dorm room. The door shuts behind you two as you push him to sit on the bed. Jake looks up, eyes bright with pure anticipation as you climb onto his lap.

“What’s up, babe?” he asks, feigning ignorance. And you fall for it. Because your cute, nerdy boyfriend couldn’t possibly have ulterior motives… Right?

“You have class tomorrow?” you ask as you adjust yourself on him, legs encasing both sides of his thighs. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer.

“It depends,” he says, knowing full well he has an 8 a.m. physics lab. “Is your roommate coming back anytime soon?”

Oh yeah. Her. 

“Not tonight,” you mutter, already peppering his neck with small kisses. “She’s visiting her parents.”

Jake smirks, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as the wheels are already turning in his head. He fakes a cough.

“You know… I think the musical is actually a romantic comedy.”

You’re on your knees, carpet harshly grazing your skin. 

“Fuck,” Jake groans, head thrown back as his hand clutches your hair. He’s pushing you down onto his cock, relishing in the way your cheeks hollow around him. How you take his whole length into your mouth without your usual snappy commentary. Look at you. Underneath him. So eager to please, but so in need of control. He bites his bottom lip at the view. It's addictive.

“Just like that,” Jake encourages, stroking your cheek so lovingly. Your tongue licks the underside of his thickness, careful not to have your teeth graze his sensitive skin. He’s so flushed above you, a darkness blooming in your heart. The sight of his glasses pushed so low on his nose bridge. So focused, so desperate for release.

‘My Jake,’ you think to yourself. ‘All mine.’

You bob your head up and down, your mouth plunging down to the base of his member with the help of his tight grasp on your hair.

“Y-yes,” he sighs, his hips coming up to meet your lips. Jake’s gaze never leaves yours, unable to tear his eyes from the tears forming in your eyes from just how much he fills you up. You always had something to say. Always rolling your eyes at him. Now, your eyes were rolling back for a different reason.

His mouth falls open. “F-fuck—” 

You smirk as his hips start to lose rhythm. You remember the first time you gave him head. Just like this, knees on the floor of his room back home, with his parents watching TV downstairs. Glasses perched and foggy. He came within seconds. You were proud, just a little, that he was able to last this long now.

“B-babe?” he tries to cry out. “I’m close—”

You pull away from him with a pop of your lips, teasing the slit of his tip with the flat of your tongue. He groans in frustration, but his hands don’t push you down to take him in again.

“Already?” you say, eyes batting up at him. “Why should I give you the satisfaction?” 

He whines, his grip on your hair tightening just a little. 

“Please?” he asks, not really sure what you want from him. It’s not like he asked you to just fuck him with your mouth! That was all your doing. Okay, yes, maybe he did provoke you. But did that mean he didn’t deserve to orgasm?!

You’re pumping him slowly with your right hand, gripping tightly and stroking enough so that he’s still edging close to his climax. But not close enough to actually reach it.

“I thought I was supposed to be showing you appreciation,” you say pointedly. “Take my time with you and all that.”

He shakes his head ferociously, his hips snapping up into your fist. 

“Babe—Please—I’m so—” he groans when he feels you slow your pace again. 

“So what?” you ask, feigning naivety. You really are the devil.

He shakes his head. He can’t speak. Can’t even think. Just frustrated with how your lips aren’t wrapped around his fucking dick anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’ll do anything, baby. Please—Just stop teasing—Please—”

His sobs are music to your ears. Your wrist’s pace on him quickens, as your mouth engulfs his swollen tip. Your tongue circles the head, pumping him up and down with all your strength and might. Jake’s hands are clutching the sheets, hips pistoning up into your sticky fingers. He feels his load threatening to spill over. 

“Fuck—Yes, baby—There—” He pulls your head back, hand encasing yours, pumping ferociously with you. Your mouth is wide open, tongue sticking out, eyes looking directly up at his. An invitation.

Spurts of his hot, white release coat your pink tongue. He unloads everything within him all over your features. Your cheeks. Your chin. Your cute ass nose. All covered in his milky cum. His mouth parts at the sight. So pretty. His girlfriend is so fucking pretty.

“I love you,” he whispers, as he wipes dribbles of his liquid off your chin with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much…”

You hum back in approval as he lifts you back up and onto his lap. Your face, still stained with his orgasm, comes up to kiss him. He grimaces slightly. You taste infinitely better than he does. He’s almost thankful you part ways with his lips so that you could pepper kisses down his neck.

And when you start sucking and nipping in the same way you did that game night, he smiles. His arms wrap around your waist as you suction his pulse point.

‘I could get used to this,’ Jake thinks.

The audition the next day went surprisingly easily. He truly was the only one trying out for the main role, while Suji was already pre-selected to play the female lead. Jake thinks it’s a bit unfair. What if other people wanted to audition too? But whatever. At least he got the part.

He finds you in between your lectures, holding out a boba for you in his hand. Jake’s not wearing a turtleneck this time, proudly wearing the battle scars of your teeth on his neck. No one’s brave enough to bring it up to him yet, to his dismay. Except you, who promptly smacks him in the arm for his shamelessness. 

“You look like a pervert,” you grumble, still taking the drink from him.

He chuckles at your cute expression. You say that like it wasn’t your intention to have him show the bites off. To show that he is very much occupied with someone else. Not Choa. Or whoever this other girl was.

“I was wearing my jacket the whole day,” he reassures. “Just took it off when I came to see you.”

He flexes slightly. “You think I’ve bulked recently?”

You roll your eyes and ignore his obvious fish for compliments. “So how’d it go? The audition?”

He smiles. “You’re looking at the male lead of Singing Striker,” he says proudly, hand to chest. “And before you ask, the name was not my choice.”

You scoff at the cheesiness. “Congrats,” you say through small sips of your gifted drink. “Break a leg.”

“Babe… when you say it like that, I feel like you mean it the other way.”

You shake your head, speaking robotically. “So who’s the female lead? It’s a romcom, you said?”

“The girl,” he starts, snapping his fingers like he doesn’t already know who she is. “Suji. From the restaurant. The one who recruited me.”

Your eyes morph into a squint, like you’re glaring at him. 

“...Interesting,” you say, willing yourself not to overreact. So Jake is hot now (always was). Girls just love to approach him with invitations to stuff. And he gets to act in a musical with someone that Jay described as “the baddest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Great! You love that, actually.

You bite down hard on the boba straw. “You know what… Are they casting for extras?"

And it's like a bad habit now. How you nip and scar his neck like you’re feeding off him every time a girl even so much looks in his direction. It’s easier than saying you’re jealous, easier than admitting that you have a sick sort of need to control who Jake interacts with.

You almost bent a metal spoon in the cafeteria when a girl asked for his number while you were sitting right in front of him. Granted, you did denounce being in a relationship with him pretty heavily the first few weeks at school. You knew she had every right to shoot her shot, but that didn't stop you from taking Jake right into a janitorial closet and making you eat him out as an apology.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into the space between your thighs as your hands push him deeper into your wetness. “I've never even seen that girl in my life—”

You grit your teeth, angry that he even mentioned her.  “Did I ask?” you growl through sharp breaths. “Just shut up.”

He smiles against your clit, sucking harshly to elicit more of your beautiful noises. He hums into you. Happy that you're mad at him. Happy that he gets to do dirty things with you without having to practically be on his knees and begging. Well, really, he already was.

His tongue laps at your folds, thrusting in and out to prolong his stay in between your thighs. Maybe he is teasing, but really, he’s just taking it all in. Your addictive noises. Your sweet taste. The feeling of his fingers digging into your ass just to hold you up. The way you clench around his tongue when he arches it inside, real deep. Yeah, he needs you bad.

Jake is lapping at you, your legs constricting around him even tighter when he finds his way back to your clit. When he tugs on it with his teeth, you jolt.

“Jake—” He does not care. He nips again, flattening his tongue to soothe the slight pinch. You arch your back into him, riding his face until you stop yourself. You look desperate. Pathetic even. But Jake groans.

“Keep going,” he huffs. “Use me, babe. Use me like I’m your fucking toy.”

You tsk, wondering where he learned to talk like that. 

“Fucking pervert,” you mutter through harsh breaths. But your grip on him does tighten, and he whimpers at the feeling of you tugging on his locks.

“You like it when I'm like this, don't you?” You grit your teeth, pushing him in further. His nose is practically buried into your clit as he fucks his pink muscle into you at a merciless pace.

“Like when you get attention. Like when everyone fucking wants you.”

You're seething, practically riling yourself up. He tries to speak, but you clench around his tongue, trapping his voice. He hums into your folds instead, licking the roof of your warm hole as he finds the exact spot he's been searching for. You mewl.

“Fuck! T-there!”

You're grinding onto his face now, smothering him with your scent. Yes, he thinks to himself, please suffocate him. Tremors go through your body as you feel something intense build in the lower pit of your stomach. So close. So fucking close.

Jake’s grip on your ass loosens as he lets you do all the work. Your legs over his shoulder pump furiously into his face. Like, Jake is just a mere vessel for your climax. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He doesn't even nurse his own hard-on, one that's painfully stretching his jeans. 

You're fucking his tongue, whining with each thrust, eyes starting to roll back, fingers almost pulling Jake’s hair from his scalp. Your hips stutter and then—

“Fuuuck…” Your orgasm pulses through you in ways that have you screaming silently. Your legs are trembling as his mouth vibrates with his hums against your core. Jake’s lapping up all your juices with an urgency.

Everything. He wants to taste everything. When you gently push him off from the oversensitivity, he resists at first. He holds you in place until he gets his fill, until tears are threatening to spill over. But your legs finally find the ground as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, out of breath. 

‘Whore’ you want to say out loud, but you know that would only make him hornier. He’s weirdly into stuff like that. But you smile as you comb through his hair. He doesn’t have complaints about you messing it all up as long as you’re fucking him, huh?

Jake, still on his knees, looks up at you with a lick of his lips, savoring the remaining taste of you on it. You wish he could see how he looked. Flushed. Damp. Yours. You almost lift him up to kiss him when—Ding.

The loving gaze you two share is cut off by the sound of his phone. He finally gets up from his knees, checking the notification.

“Oh shit,” he mutters. “Suji says I missed the costume fitting. I think I need to head out soon—”

You smash your lips against his, interrupting his train of thought. You moan at the taste of yourself on his devious tongue. Jake smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. Maybe you could add a few more hickeys to his collection before he heads out... Just for good measure.

jake: let’s go to jay’s together?

For one of your weekly hangouts. The nights you try to avoid because they always end with you ignoring the pile of assignments you’ve already been putting off. 

you: sure. wya rn?

You smack your forehead the second you realize how quickly you sent that text. You swear you weren’t waiting. It wasn’t like you were staring at the last message he sent five hours ago, ruminating over whether it was appropriate to tell him how much you missed him.

jake: meet me by the bleachers :D practice is ending soon.

The speed at which you change outfits is impressive, already heading to the damn field before you realize it. He’s there, dribbling with a couple of his teammates. You sit at the top of the stands, a bit out of his sight. He catches a glimpse of you anyway and waves. You shoot him a simple smile of acknowledgement that dampens almost immediately.

Because you also see Choa, handing him a water bottle. When Jake reaches for it, trying to avoid brushing her hand, she purposefully finds his fingers anyway. It’s enough for your stomach to sink.

Even though he’s just smiling politely. Even when it looks like their conversation lasts for two seconds. It doesn’t feel any less bad. Choa notices you staring, and she scoffs. “This is a closed practice—”

“She’s with me,” Jake corrects her immediately. “I told her to come. That’s okay, right?”

You lift an eyebrow, challenging her. Jake said it the nice way. If she had to hear you speak, you would have probably been escorted off the field by now. She coughs awkwardly and nods, instantly folding under Jake’s attention. Your boyfriend, by the way.

“O-of course,” she stammers. “Just make sure she doesn’t see the playbook.”

The guys continue playing, and you move down a few rows, keeping Choa in your line of sight. It’s like she feels the daggers you send her way because she whips around to glare at you.

“It’s kind of pathetic,” she starts. “How you cling onto him.” You squint at her, not sure if you heard her correctly. You turn around, too, to check if she really had the audacity to speak to a stranger like you in that way.

“You talking to me?” you ask, pointing at yourself mockingly. She clicks her tongue.

“Who else?” she bites back. “Do you even have a name, or do you usually just go by Jake’s guard dog?”

Your cheeks burn in anger. Oh, if you were in high school… She’d have been on the ground by now, makeup stained with turf and pebbles. But unfortunately, you’re trying to stick to your resolution. A reformed delinquent girl at a prestigious university—

“You mute too?” Choa adds in for good measure. You stand, and it’s like Jake’s Spidey senses tingle because he stops to watch, monitoring if he needs to step in.

“You know,” you say, voice cool and devoid of emotion, “you’ve got a lot to say for someone who has to talk like a baby to get a man’s attention.”

She snarls. “Excuse me?”

“Jake’s not gonna let you hit,” you mock, scanning her up and down with a disgusted face. You only say the next part just to piss her off. “You’re not really his type.”

“And you are?” She steps in closer. “You’re stuck in the fucking friendzone, acting like hot shit—”

Oh, if only she knew. The truth is sitting on your tongue, burning, begging to be spoken just so you can wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But you’re not that angry yet. Not enough to expose yourself.

“You seem like such a loser,” she continues, voice laced with malice. “Everyone already thinks you look like some stray puppy following Jake everywhere he goes. Don’t you have a life of your own? Any hobbies? Isn’t it sad showing up where you’re not wanted?”

Ouch. Jake was your puppy. He follows you around everywhere. 

She digs right into that ugly little fear in the back of your mind. That you look as pitiful as you feel. That you truly were just biding your time in this dumb university until Jake showers you with attention. Is this what a relationship’s supposed to feel like? Like you’re waiting for him, all the damn time?

You inhale a deep breath. You’re better than this. Better than catfights over someone that’s already yours. A man who sleeps on your chest almost every night... But you’re not above being petty.

“And did he tell you all that,” you ask with fake sweetness, “or are your delusions that Jake’s gonna fuck you starting to get to your brain?”

She opens her mouth, but you cut her off. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you,” you continue, sarcasm dripping in your voice. “Make sure Jakey knows exactly the kind of girl you are.”

Choa bites the inside of her cheek. “Not like I said anything wrong.”

“Oh, right.” You pitch your voice up to that grating baby tone she uses with Jake. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you calling me a ‘fucking loser,’ since you care so much about what he thinks.”

You could laugh at her suddenly hunched shoulders, but you just drop back down onto your seat, fake scrolling through your phone. “Don’t you have a team to manage?”

Choa whips her bob around, stomping back toward the group and desperately hoping that no one heard. But Jake is already staring. He doesn’t look mad. Just resigned. 

“Choa?” he calls out, voice low and almost inaudible. He’s not smiling like usual.

“Yes?” she answers immediately, with that lilted tone that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You don’t hear the conversation that takes place, so curious as to why Choa’s expression suddenly drops.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again,” he says, and the entire team stiffens around them. 

“And next time,” he adds, walking past her, “Just mind your fucking business.”

–

You never, in all your years of living, thought you’d be sitting in an auditorium seat watching your boyfriend act like he was in love with another girl on stage. But here you are, leg bouncing and forearms itching from the irritation bubbling in your chest.

“But don't you get it?!” Jake rehearses, script in hand. His hands flail in fake exasperation. You cover your mouth to hide the wince forming on your lips. “How can I choose between the stage and football?!”

“You don't have to choose,” Suji steps in, acting much better than Jake, at least. “You can do both.”

Jake sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. He's facing her now.

She's pretty, you think. Really pretty. Probably one of the most gorgeous girls you've ever seen in your life. And Jake is staring right into her eyes. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same. You grit your teeth at the thought.

“But what would people think of me?” he sighs. Suji shakes her head, moving closer. Your brows knit. That's not part of the script.

“Who cares what other people think?” she says softly, resting her hand on his chest. Your expression darkens immediately. “If it feels like you're alone… Then I can be there to support you.”

Maybe Jake's character should care what other people think, especially if he’s gonna prioritize singing on stage with some pretty girl over his football career—

You slap your own cheek lightly. Relax.

“Cut,” the musical director calls out. “Great job, you two! After this is the dance scene. We can rehearse that tomorrow. I think that's all for the day.”

When the actors and stage crew finally funnel out, you watch Jake stay behind, chatting with his costars onstage. So radiant, smiling at them with his toothy grin and cracking jokes as he says goodbye. He never used to be like that. Used to be so painfully shy that Jay had to accept his academic awards for him in high school.

And yeah, you feel like shit when he's standing there, surrounded by people who have stars in their eyes when he talks, while you're grumpily waiting in a faraway seat with no real excuse to interrupt. You're just part of the stage crew, after all. Just one of the invisible people who move props in between scenes while Jake and Suji’s characters fall deeply in love with each other. Yuck.

But you’re not gonna do the usual thing of dragging him to the nearest secluded area and fucking his brains out. No—you’re better than that. You’re not a loser! You’d let this pass.

“Bye, I’ll catch up with you guys soon! My friend’s waiting for me.”

The word ‘friend’ digs deep into your heart. But that’s your own fault.

Jake walks toward you, and the quick smile he throws your way is cut short the moment he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He stops in front of you, forehead still glistening from the stage lights, eyes glued to the screen even as he talks.

“I have practice in like thirty minutes,” he sighs, scrolling through his calendar. “And then the crew wants to have, like, a group dinner later tonight.”

He cranes his neck to release some tension, finally looking up at you. “Damn. My character is lowkey right. It really is hard balancing the two.”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “The crew? Like Jay and Sunghoon?”

He shakes his head as he walks beside you, still a bit occupied with his phone. He's sending text messages to some massive group chat, text bubble after text bubble popping up.

“The main acting crew,” he says, emphasizing the second word. “I think they wanna run the lines at En Bar and get a couple of drinks.”

You almost stop in your tracks, but you force yourself to continue walking with him, arms crossed. Good for him, you think. And you mean it. He's adjusted so well to university life, while yours feels like it revolves around him.

What's Jake up to? Is his practice done? Who's he talking to? Is it Choa? Is it Suji? Is it every girl that makes eye contact with your newly socially adept boyfriend, who just so happens to have the most gorgeous face known to mankind?

You want to punch yourself real bad.

“Do you wanna come?” he asks when he notices you've fallen silent. He thinks it's cute when you're jealous. Sulking and pouty—when it’s obvious why you’re upset. Not when you're quiet. Not when you're creating distance between you two as he walks beside you.

“I can ask them if we can reserve more chairs—”

“It's fine!” you interrupt, but even you don’t convince yourself. “I have work to catch up on anyway.”

His lips part as if recalling something important, something he promised you. 

“I'm so sorry, babe!” he gasps. “I totally forgot that you needed help studying for your exam tomorrow!”

You shrug your shoulders. You’re a cool girlfriend. Super chill. Not crazy at all.

“No, it's okay,” you say, chain necklace feeling heavy on your chest. “I'll just go to the tutoring center. You're busy, I get it.”

His eyes are still laced with concern. You sound so disconnected, so not yourself. Did he do something wrong?

“I can come over tomorrow?” he suggests, but it almost comes out as a plea. “We can watch the new movie you wanted—”

“My roommate’s gonna be home.”

“Okay…” he says, voice fading. “What about my dorm?”

You shake your head.  “I'm not really up for a movie, I guess.” 

Jake’s expression sours. It feels like you’re shoving sheets of metal down his throat. He can take you angry. Can handle you screaming, kicking, crying, and calling him names. He can’t take whatever this is.

“I can just cancel,” he says quickly. “I’ll come over tonight!”

And Choa’s voice resounds in your ear.

“You seem like a fucking loser.”

You bite your bottom lip and stare at his wavering gaze. You wonder if he pities you. 

Has he noticed? How quickly you reply to his texts? How often you show up to his extracurricular activities? How you can’t seem to admit that you’re hurting, even when he’s right here in front of you? God, you hate this feeling.

“It’s okay,” you say, and it’s small like a whisper. “Need some alone time anyway.”

“Alright,” he breathes, relenting to whatever boundary you’ve set with him. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, but when you flinch, he retracts his hand instantly.

“I love you?” he tests.

You give him a small smile and nod, pushing past him. He moves like he wants to catch your hand and stop you. But as always, he lets you walk just a little too out of his reach.

Because you still don’t say it back.

–

So this is what it feels like to twiddle your thumbs and try not to scream as Jake misses yet another hangout... He’s busy with his daily practices and rehearsals. You get that. But it’s still physically torturous to sit through Jay and Sunghoon stoking the fires of your insecurities.

“He’s gotta be seeing someone,” Sunghoon sighs, reclining into the beanbag in Jay’s apartment. “Dude just abandons his friends without any pussy involved? There’s no way.”

You smash a throw pillow from the couch and into his face, and Jay throws another one for good measure.

“Why do you always think with your dick?” Jay mutters. “Just let Jake be. This is his moment. Not like he had much to work with in high school.”

Sunghoon sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles, almost apologetic. “He was pretty lame back then.”

You never thought so. Maybe you joked about it, but you never really meant it. He was kind. A little shy. So eager to please and follow you around. And now that the roles were reversed, you weren’t sure how to feel anymore. Fuck. Why couldn’t you just be happy for him?

He has this amazing life outside of you now. Cool friends (not Jay and Sunghoon). Great prospects for the future. It’s like a bird leaving the nest. Your carefully cultivated nest.

You felt like a cloud raining over his head when you’re around him now. After Choa, you started to notice the whispers around campus a little more. How people avoid him when you’re around because you can’t carry empty conversations about upcoming exam scores the same way Jake can.

It’s just different. He is. And it feels like you are too. But not a good different. It’s the kind that makes you feel like this isn’t how you should be. That you aren’t who you want to be… Maybe Choa was right.

And now a pillow is thrown in your direction. You shoot daggers at Sunghoon with your glare.

“What?!” you yell. He pounces in fear.

“I asked,” he coughs. “Is college treating you okay? You making friends?”

You roll your eyes. “Are you my dad?”

Jay sighs. “We always talk about Jake. Sue us for wanting to know how you’re doing for once.”

The words linger. What are you doing?

–

You’re stewing in it, marinating in how lonely it feels to stand in a corner with the stage crew while Jake, Suji, and the rest of the main cast laugh amongst themselves. Whatever.

“Those two are so cute,” a girl beside you says. Gaeul. So sweet, so bubbly. So oblivious to how tightly you clench your teeth. “They’d be like the it couple on campus, no?”

When you look between Jake and his toothy grin and Suji with her sweet laugh, you can’t help the way your heart constricts. “Yeah,” you mutter in disgruntled agreement. “I guess.”

Jake sends you sneaking glances, ones you don’t notice despite your eyes lingering on him. 

You haven't been the most responsive lately. He texts you a lot in between practices and rehearsals. Whenever he has the chance. He asks to come over. Asks you to come over. And you’ve turned him down almost every time.

You didn’t attend his last two games, you’re skipping rehearsals that you used to sit through for hours, and Jay knows where you're holed up more than he does. He’s worried about you. Worried that you’re avoiding him. Were you avoiding him?

“I heard you two are really good friends,” Gaeul asks you with sparkling eyes. “He seems like such a catch. How’d you not fall in love?”

You shrug. What answer are you supposed to give? It’s not like you were resistant to his charm either. “He went through a transformation recently,” you admit. “We were both kind of outcasts in high school.”

“Me too!” she says excitedly. “I bleached my hair, and everything before uni started. What about you? Were you two like super shy?”

You shake your head. “Jake was. I was just a bad student. Got in trouble a lot. My parents literally laughed when I told them I wanted to go here.”

And your heart thuds in your chest from a memory. Because Jake believed in you. Sat through hours of studying, teaching you the difference between derivatives and whatever the fuck linearization was, just for the chance to attend the same university. So he could spend time with you, so he could be with you. And now you barely see him.

“Really? I’m not surprised, though. You seem like such a chill girl. Like you don’t care what other people think of you.”

“Trust me. I’m far from it.” You catch Jake’s longing gaze again, but you turn away.

“Starting to think it was a mistake joining this thing,” you mumble, “with how often everyone forgets their lines.”

She laughs. “I like how straightforward you are,” she says with a wide smile. “Don’t really mince your words, do you?”

You smile too, in what feels like forever. It felt free to talk about something—anything—outside of him.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to hold back what I say.” Which is a lie. Because you hold back a lot. More than you let on. 

“Alright!” the stage manager yells. “Let’s get in position for the final scene.”

The kiss scene. The one you’ve dreaded for so long. You and Gaeul move across the stage, setting up the mics and instruments in their right place. You move past Jake with your head down. He frowns. So you are avoiding him.

“Places, people!”

You watch, from the wings, as Jake pours his heart out into the lyrics. A song about breaking free from stereotypes and whatever other inspirational stuff this whole musical’s about. He’s good. Really good. He moves like a natural on stage, throwing Suji these soft, tender glances that look so painfully real. She glows under the lights, stars in her eyes. And as the song comes to an end, he picks her up to spin her.

Just like the script says. And you clutch your forearm at the sight.

“I feel like I can really be myself with you,” he says to her. “Like I don’t have to hide or pretend.”

Whatever.

“And you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

The two stare at each other. A pause. Jake leans in. And so does she. Fuck.

You can’t do this. Can’t watch. You turn and walk out the back exit. Your chest is heavy, constricted with that ugly pang of envy.

Fuck this feeling. It hurt. Why did it have to hurt? You hate the tears that well up in your eyes, hate the shivering of your shoulders as you hug yourself in the parking lot of the stupid auditorium. You need to go back in. Save face. Show how little that kiss scene affected you because you’re supposed to be his friend in the eyes of everyone else.

You clutch your necklace through your shirt, fingers twisting the ring. Jake, who loves you. Who desperately wants your relationship to be public, to show you off. The same Jake on stage kissing another girl for a stupid musical you didn’t even want to be a part of.

He doesn’t deserve this. This monstrous version of you, who cares too much but gives too little. Overbearing to the point of suffocation.

So you walk back in, face steeled and tears wiped. He’s talking to the director with Suji, like nothing happened. Like all semblance of your self-esteem wasn’t just ruined a few minutes ago. But you need to stop. Because it isn't his fault. It isn't even Suji’s.

It’s yours. You hurt your own feelings.

Jake sees you and immediately lights up, calling your name as he jogs over. You don’t smile back.

“I have some time after rehearsals,” he says lovingly, his hand tugging your arm. “Wait for me?”

This would be the last time you would.

–

He tries to hold your hand on the walk back home to steady his heart rate. Opening night creeps closer and closer, and preparation alone won’t save him from the nerves. But when you pull away before his fingers can intertwine with yours, he flinches.

Maybe there are too many people around, Jake tells himself. You’re probably worried about being seen. And so he continues his merry yapping. He doesn’t notice the defeated glint in your eyes or the slow steps you take next to his. He’s still riding the high from rehearsal, still proud he finally made it through every line without stuttering or needing the script.

Maybe he’ll do well enough on opening night that you’ll let him kiss you afterward. Maybe you’ll walk toward him with flowers while he wraps you in his arms. He’d spin you around, brag to the whole world that you’re his girlfriend. Say it loud and proud in front of annoying ass Jay and Sunghoon, who got front row seats.

The thought pulls a grin onto Jake’s face, making him skip ahead a little. And you both keep walking toward the dorms. Just like any other day.

Until you ruin it.

“I’m dropping out of the stage crew,” you say, casually. He stops in his tracks. All semblance of a smile wipes from his face. The show is sold out. It’s too late to get you tickets. 

“You won’t be able to watch,” he says, panic laced in his voice. You’re at a standstill, in the middle of campus, surrounded by trees and concrete. “You should’ve told me! I can see if I can pull some strings—”

He’s already taking his phone out to text someone. Probably the director. He doesn’t even ask why. Just goes straight to problem-solving. Your Jake. Too good. Too kind. Too forgiving.

It’s too much.

“I’m not coming to watch,” you say, harsher this time, stopping him from sending the message. Guilt washes over you instantly. Because he looks at you with his brows knit together, eyes wavering.

“I don’t understand.”  You don’t want to come? You don’t want to support him?

Your mouth opens to say something. Anything. But your throat feels hoarse, shoulders too heavy. Shit. Don’t cry. You don’t cry in front of anyone.

“Jake,” you start, clenching your quivering hands open and closed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart drops. 

“Do what anymore?” he swallows, his mouth dry. “I’m confused—”

“I think we need to break up.”

Numb. Everything is numb.

“W-what?” Tears sting Jake’s eyes before he can blink them back. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

You shake your head. “Jake,” you whisper, careful not to get too close. Careful so you don’t make the mistake of taking back your words. “I don’t think we’re good for each other.”

He inches forward. You take a step back.

“Do you think that? That I’m not good enough—”

“No,” you interrupt. But he isn’t listening. And he doesn’t want to. Because this feels like a fucked up joke, a prank on him that’s been taken too far. Won’t you stop?

“Because if it’s something I did, I can change,” he begs. And your heart breaks a little at how desperately he searches for a hint of emotion in your face. But you don’t relent. You can be the bad guy. You always are. 

“Please. We can talk this through.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, an unusual softness in your voice. “I don’t want to change my mind—”

“Why not?!” he asks, voice louder. The quiet that falls between you two is masked by the rustle of surrounding trees, orange and red leaves falling around you two. The cool, autumn air brushes your face. His eyes sting with redness. 

“Why don’t you tell me anything?” His voice cracks. The aching in your heart makes you want to give in, to take it all back. But you aren’t like Jake. You can’t adjust, can’t welcome change so openly. 

So as you look at him with his slicked back hair and sharp features, so different from a year ago, it feels like you've already lost something. The version of yourself who had more to give than hollow excuses and marks left on his skin.

You couldn’t admit to it even now. That you hate who you’ve become. “I’m telling you right now,” you gulp, bracing your own words. “That I want to break up.”

And the first semblance of tears falls down Jake’s cheeks as he lets out a bitter laugh. He doesn’t believe it. Can’t accept it. He won’t let this be the end.

“If it’s because of what Choa said—”

Your brows furrow. “You heard what she said?” 

His hands are in his hair, tugging at it with frustration. You seem angry, but he doesn’t know why. He never does.

“I told her to mind her business,” he explains quickly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So if you’re breaking up with me just because she called you clingy or whatever…”

And he doesn’t know it, but the words trigger something in you. Something you’ve been pushing down over and over again. The feeling of seeming weak, of needing him. The need to monopolize. It sickens you.

“It matters what I think Jake!” you finally burst out. Frustration etched in your voice, shaky from the cold air and your wavering emotions. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“All I ever do now is wonder who you’re with, why you’re with them, and I just… I just feel so fucking lonely.”

He reaches for you, but you push him away. Your grievances spill out of you before you can hold them back.

“I’m paranoid of anyone who talks to you. I couldn’t even fucking watch you do that stupid kiss scene,” you continue. 

“We didn’t even kiss!”

“That’s not the fucking point!” you scream, before you can stop yourself. You inhale sharply when he flinches. Calm down. This is not his fault. Why are you getting angry with him?

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, taking one more step back. He holds your wrist gently to keep you in place.

Jake stares at you with his lips parted, stunned. “So why can’t we just go public?” he pleads. “You wouldn’t have to feel this way if—”

“That’s not the issue either,” you scoff, but you can’t even convince yourself. Because isn’t this how it all started? Your unwillingness to be embarrassed, to seem vulnerable in front of others. Was this not the root of it all?

“Then what is?!” he cries, his grip on your wrist tightens, not to hurt you, but so that you don’t run. Because you’re good at that. Running.

“I get insecure too,” he reassures, but you look past him now. “But I tell you. I tell you when I’m hurt, I tell you when I’m down. Because I… I want you to understand me. I want to understand you too…”

He swallows hard before continuing. “So I don’t get why you would even bring up breaking up before we even try to solve the problem together—”

“Because I don’t want to solve it, Jake.”

His hold on you loosens instantly, arm dropping to his side. You feel colder as he steps back. Jake stares at you, hurt laced in his gaze. Like you stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife in to marinate.

“...You're always like this,” he mutters under his breath. “Always saying hurtful things without thinking about how they make me feel.”

He feels his throat close up as he draws in some baited breaths. The tears come in more heavily, his cheeks damp as they roll down his pained face. 

“So you see what I mean?” you say, your own tears threatening to spill over without you even realizing. A part of him instinctively wants to wipe them away, to pull you close and make it stop. But all he feels is anger. Because you’re the one breaking up with him. You’re the one choosing to end things. What right do you have to cry? What right do you have to look shattered when he's the one in pieces?

“I’m horrible to you,” you let out with pained laughter. He shakes his head immediately. 

“No, you’re not—”

“I always pick fights—”

“You don’t—”

“I act like a fucking bitch—”

“Don’t call yourself that—”

"I feel like I’m insane when I’m around you,” you let out, before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t think that at all—”

“But I do, Jake,” you cry. “I hate how jealous I get when you’re surrounded by other people. I hate feeling like I’m holding you back. I hate what I’ve become since…”

And you can’t finish because his tears have stopped. He’s looking at you with a new kind of anguish. The kind that you don’t necessarily expect. The kind that feels like disgust. 

“Since you started dating me?” he says like he correctly finished your statement. But that’s not what you're going to say. Never that.

“Since you didn’t need me anymore,” you whimper. “I’m not a good girlfriend, Jake. You’d be so much happier without me. Everyone would think it if they knew.”

He stands in front of you, hollow. If they knew. He has to laugh. That’s the problem. No one does. You don’t want them to. It’s clear now.

“Fine,” he says, and the steadiness of his voice makes you shudder. Good. This is what you wanted. 

He’s staring at you, jaded like he had come to terms with it. He used to love how insistent you were about your point of view on things, how firmly you stood by your opinions. Used to envy it. But now, he detests it. That stubbornness. 

“Whatever you want,” he sighs, hands slipping in his pockets. “Let’s break up. Pretend we never happened.”

Your mouth parts. “Excuse me?”

Jake scoffs, hands tightening into a fist. They’re trembling, but he won’t let you see. He can do what you do. Act like he’s okay. Act like you didn’t just kill him. He’s gotten very good at that. Acting.

“I’m being honest, Jake—”

“You don’t love me,” he cuts in. And your heart sinks. “That’s all this is. You never show it. You never say it. And I’m tired of hearing you pretend like you’re doing me a favor when I’m practically begging you not to leave.”

His voice cracks, but he continues. “So fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way. You won’t ever have to admit that we dated, start a clean slate without me. Just like you want.”

He presses his lips together and gives you one last look before he takes his hands out of his pockets. He’s fiddling with the ring. His ring. The ring that matches yours.

“You know,” he starts, voice trembling and bitter, “when it was the other way around… when I felt like shit about myself…. I never once thought of leaving you.”

His gaze is on the ground. “Because I always thought I was better with you than without. Because you made me want to be better.”

His voice falters. He looks at you now, sniffling. 

“I tried to be better.”

And in one swift motion, Jake takes off the ring.  “...But you didn’t even want me enough to stay.”

“Jake, no—” 

But it’s too late. You see him throw it, the bushes rustling nearby. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and walks past you to the direction of the dorms.

“There,” he says quietly behind you. “Like we never happened.”

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even spare you a glance. It’s only when he’s fully out of sight that you dig through the orange and red pile of leaves, through dirt and branches. Tears stream down your face as you sob, searching for it like a mad woman. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic. 

But you can’t find it. No matter how hard you try to find a silver glint in the greenery, there is nothing. And you clutch onto yours like it’s your lifeline. He threw it away. How could he throw it away?

And you wonder then if you made the biggest mistake in your life.

–

You thought the pit in your stomach would fade once you ripped the bandage, but the hole in your heart opened wider. And it’s only been a week.

Jake used to dodge questions about his love life, but now he admits to anyone with ears who walks by that he’s single. You have ears. And you walk by often. You’re not sure if he’s taunting you or if you just want him to be.

When your eyes meet his at the one lecture you still share, he’s the first to turn away. Jake used to sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours, tilting his laptop so you could keep up when the professor switched the slides too quickly. When you pass the football field, you try not to wince when you see Choa latch onto his arm like she belongs there. He used to always pull away. 

The worst part is that these stolen glances are all you have of him. He’s blocked you on everything, which feels weird to think about. Jake, who’s always gentle, always forgiving, always offering second chances—even to people who don’t deserve it. Maybe this time you’re one of them.

You have no right to be upset. Not anymore.

And so you wrap yourself in your studies, check out new extracurriculars, even try to make new friends on campus who know nothing about Jake. You try to rebuild, try to go back in time before that fateful day in high school when you met him. But it’s been far too long. 

He was a part of you, so deeply ingrained in your daily life. How could you act like you two never happened? Like your relationship never existed? How could he do it so well?

And then, you have to remind yourself. You'd already been doing that anyway.

–

“So what did he do?” Jay questions, tuning his guitar while Sunghoon and you sit in his living room. “Did he tell you he was done paying for your stuff or…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, already agitated enough as you scroll through Suji’s Instagram. You couldn’t even muster the energy to be jealous over a photo of Jake and her holding up peace signs next to each other. You just feel empty. “Nothing happened.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “He’s usually texting one of us to get you to answer his messages by now. It’s been crickets from him for the last two weeks.”

You swallow hard. He used to do that?

Jay’s gaze flickers toward you and sighs as he fiddles with his guitar strings. “You know, I really don’t get the two of you,” he mumbles. “Like you already rejected him in high school, you’re practically just stringing him along at this point—”

You sit up. “Excuse me?”

He shakes his head, dropping the guitar onto his lap. “Jake told us,” he starts hesitantly. “That you ran away when he tried to confess last year.”

‘But that’s not the full story,’ you want to scream out loud. 

“Yeah,” Sunghoon laughs as if recalling a memory. “Dude! Remember in the summer when he started going to the gym with me?”

Jay cringes. “Yeah, and he told us it was because he’d be starting this season, but we knew it was just because you said you liked macho guys.”

You shake your head, ears warming at the thought. That’s insane. 

“Oh, and that stupid ass ring,” Sunghoon adds, clutching his stomach. Your hand instinctively clutches at your necklace, fingers brushing the chain. “His mom beat the shit out of him when she found out how much he spent on it.”

You twiddle with the ring through your shirt. You should've taken it off by now. He'd already thrown his away. So what use was it leaving him if all you were going to do was hold on?

“Why would he do all that for me?” you mutter, not realizing that you said your thoughts out loud. 

Jay shrugs. “Love makes you do stupid things.” And then he sighs. “Go easy on him, okay? You know how he is. Jake’s a sensitive boy. Especially when it comes to you.”

You look down at the ground, shame bubbling up in your chest. Jake loved you. He really did.

–

You smile from your view of the auditorium, even from the back, feeling like a speck of dust in the full house. A bouquet is in your hand as you nervously find your seat. Jake’s right. Everyone’s here to watch.

You could see Jay and Sunghoon’s tiny heads toward the front, pushing down the bitterness of not being able to sit as close as they were. It's not fair, you think. You had to buy a last minute ticket off a student who could no longer make it while they don’t even like musicals. You shake your head.

This isn’t about you. It’s Jake’s big night. 

The lights dim. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—steps onto the stage in a football jersey that looks almost exactly like his real-life one. The audience quiets at his entrance. As he delivers his cheesy opening monologue, you mouth the words with him. He’d practiced it so much in front of you. Pride wells up in your chest. He doesn’t stutter once. 

Even when Suji joins him on stage, even as they sing together during their characters’ first meeting, you couldn’t help but smile. 

The scenes blur as you lose yourself in the show. You watch the characters as they are and not as your ex and the girl you desperately wanted to hate. It was actually fun. The cheeky glances, the perfectly rehearsed dance scenes. The way the main character so seriously thought that singing was going to affect his football career. It made you laugh, made you tear up, made you suck in a deep breath when Jake leaned into her. 

And because you’re still you, and because the wounds still feel fresh, you close your eyes. You don’t have to know if he really did it or not. It doesn’t matter. It’s his moment.

‘If only I felt like this the whole time,’ you thought to yourself. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to psych yourself up to find him afterward and pour your heart out to him. You shiver at the thought.

But Jay had said it: love makes you do stupid things.

And you do. Love him. 

Enough to buy him flowers. Enough to admit that you’re done hiding. Enough to risk asking him to love you again—even if there’s a chance that he already moved on.

–

“Bro,” Jay starts, with tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again. I can’t be crying like that in front of everybody.”

“Quit football,” Sunghoon says, patting Jake on the back with unusually red eyes. “Just focus on this musical shit. I swear you could make it big time.”

Jake chuckles, watching as the auditorium empties of guests. “Thanks, guys. I’m glad you two liked it.”

God, he wishes you were here. He could imagine exactly what you’d say when you walk up to him, with a small smile you try to suppress. Saying good job while ruffling his hair. Trying to act like you didn’t cry like everyone else. Jake smiles, quietly, at his own thoughts. It’s ridiculous, coming up with hypotheticals when you’d already made it clear. You don't want to be with him anymore. 

“Jake.” 

His heart instinctively skips a beat.

When he turns, the air in his lungs escapes him. You’re holding a bouquet so big it hides most of your frame, looking at him expectantly as you push it towards him. His eyes widen, unable to speak or even take the flowers from you. Is he dreaming?

“You did a good job,” you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, wanting him to feel your sincerity.  “You killed it up there.”

“Thanks,” he says shortly, finally taking the flowers from your hands. He can’t help but stare. 

“I—” you try to push out, but Suji rushes to the stage to tap Jake on the shoulder.

“Hey.” She smiles up at him. “We're heading out soon for the celebration. Did you still want a ride with me?”

“Damn, even musicals got afterparties?” Sunghoon mutters to Jay, who attempts to shush him.

Jake returns a smile. “Yeah, just give me a second.”

And when he turns around to look at you, to finally hear what you have to say, your eyes are glossed over. Maybe you’re too late. Maybe this is idiotic after all. It's been weeks. There's no guarantee he'll even listen.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” you mutter, though you've changed the words you meant to say entirely. It's supposed to be: ‘I’m so proud of you. Will you take me back? I’ll stop being so mean. We can tell everyone we’re in love—yes, even Jay and Sunghoon.’

But old habits die hard. And Suji—beautiful fucking Suji—crushed every ounce of confidence you had to come up to him in the first place.

“That's all,” you say, shooting him a small grin. It doesn't quite reach your eyes. He notices. Jake always does. Just never knows the reason why.

Before you can step back, he grabs your wrist, spinning you into his arms. Like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms.

“Don't,” he whispers. “Please… don't run away this time.”

You stare up at him, searching his gaze.

“Man, what the fuck is going on…” Jay whispers behind the two of you.

Sunghoon shrugs. “You think they finally…?”

Jake turns his head to give a disgruntled look to his two idiotic friends, and they shrink, making their way down the stage to finally give the two of you more privacy. He turns his attention back to you, wrist still in his hand, and gently moves it down to take your hands in both of his.

“I thought you didn't want to come,” he starts, licking his lips through the nerves. “Why are you here?”

Your cheeks heat up. Fuck. Where do you even start?

He draws circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. “Why?” he asks again, more confident this time.

It would be easy to act like your old self and push out a half-assed excuse. That you just want to be supportive, even after you’ve broken up. That you don’t miss him at all. But you're too tired to pretend like Jake's absence in your life didn’t feel worse than when you were with him. 

“Because…” you start, with a shaky breath. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”

His brows furrow. “About what?”

And you feel your heart pumping in your chest, your palms slick with sweat. This is harder than you thought.

“I wanted to—” You swallow, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to apologize. With the ring. The one you threw away.”

You see Jake's ears turn a bright shade of crimson. “Actually—”

“But I couldn’t find it,” you cut in. “No matter how hard I looked. I tried. I really, really…”

You start to choke up. Because fuck. He'd gotten you that ring to confess to you. Spent all his pocket money so that he could get something he knew you'd love. Had it engraved with the letter J. Your Jake. Your handsome, talented, smart, and wonderful Jake.

“...really want to get back together,” you finally let out, eyes shining underneath the stage lights as tears threaten to spill over. “I'm sorry, Jake.”

His breath hitches, hands releasing yours so suddenly. Your heart clenches. “You broke up with me,” he mutters.

You nod. “I-I thought I needed to. To find myself. But… you were right. I was just running away from my problems.”

You swallow hard, correcting yourself. “Our problems.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “So is this the part where you expect me to forgive you?”

Your heart clenches. “I'm sorry,” you say again softly.

“You still haven’t even given me a reason,” he scoffs. “So tell me why. Why do you want to get back together when—”

It’s like slow motion, what you do next. You cup Jake’s face right into your hands, crashing your lips onto his. In front of Sunghoon. In front of Jay. In front of the whole cast and crew who were packing up to leave. The same people he’s had to make excuses to about why he suddenly looked so distraught these past few weeks. You pull back, breathless.

“Because I love you,” you say, loud enough to elicit gasps from your watchers. You don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed anymore. Because the words fall naturally from your lips, like breathing. And it's like music to his ears. 

“I fucking love you,” you repeat, hands still on his cheeks. His mouth parts open, breathless. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, tears forming in his eyes. Jake swoops in, his lips finding yours again. His mouth moves against yours in tandem, slow and passionate. Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in the taste of him. You missed him so much.

When he pulls away, a shit-eating grin lights up his face. “Finally,” he whispers, cheeks flushed. “You finally said it back.”

You lightly swat his shoulder. You should've known he was trying to egg you on. Jake and all his damn questions.

“I love you too,” he mutters against your temple, squeezing you against him. “I love you so much.”

He peppers kisses all over your face, and you hear gagging on the sidelines.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters into your hair. “That shit fucking hurt.”

You smile sadly. “I promise—”

“YOU TWO WERE DATING?!” a familiar voice cries out. Of course. Nosy-ass Sunghoon. You resist the urge to drop kick him right then.

“I have a better question,” Jay pipes in. “Are we invited to this afterparty too or…”

Jake furrows his brows, turning to the idiotic duo. “What afterparty?”

Sunghoon and Jay bombard you with questions about your secret relationship, but mainly just start arguing about who was gonna call the taxi for the party they still desperately wanted to go to, since Suji had already left.

Running far away from the auditorium, Jake and you giggle as the two idiots try to chase after you. When you both reach his dorm, he doesn't waste one second after you close the door to lift you over his shoulder. You yelp as your feet lift off the ground, squeaking when your back hits the mattress with a soft bounce.

He sets the bouquet softly on his nightstand before hovering over your frame, and his knees sink into the mattress as he traps you underneath him. Jake strokes your cheek lovingly, his hand trailing down and down until it reaches the edge of your skirt. Still as short as ever. Thighs so pretty underneath the thin fabric.

“I missed you,” he sighs, hands trailing to the edges of your panties. He strokes your plush skin, sending shivers down your spine. You want to roll your eyes, deflect the warm stirring in your core as he scans your figure, eyes clouded with lust. But you’re supposed to be turning over a new leaf. Honesty and all that.

“Imissedyoutoo…” you mutter lowly, rushing through your words.

He moves closer, ear practically touching your lips. “Hm?” 

You lose patience, baring your teeth and nipping his helix. He flinches, glaring at you with a playful scoff.

“You said you weren't gonna be mean anymore…” Jake sighs, tone dripping in mockery as he pouts. And you want to say something more, but Jake’s hands land on your ass, giving you a subtle squeeze.

You know what. You'll humor him. Just this once.

You bring your lips to the ear you just bit, kissing it lightly. Steady hands trail down the fake football jersey he adorns, and to the painful bulge of his shorts. Jake sucks in a deep breath.  You chuckle, amused at how suddenly it hardens. So easy to arouse. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, licking his outer shell. He shudders against your touch, your breath on his neck triggering goosebumps all across his arms. You squeeze him through the fabric, his head falling to your shoulder. “I’ll stop…”

“Don’t,” he lets out through ragged breaths, as you stroke him languidly. You chuckle. He’s so cute. Cheeks tinged with pink. It makes you want to do worse things to him...

“Lie down,” you command, and he gladly takes your place on the bed. Your knees encase him now, tugging his stupid jersey over his head. “Let me make it up to you…”

His muscles are so well-defined, glistening under the light of your dorm room. You trail kisses down his chest, licking down his abs. Salty. Just how you like him. Jake squirms underneath you as you tug his shorts down, his dick slapping your chin on the way up as it springs free. Jake almost cums from the sight, tip flushed red and pulsing with need. To feel you. To be so buried deep inside you that he can feel the head poking through your stomach. 

When you move your head down to kiss his hardness, he digs his fingers into your shoulder. “No, baby,” he mutters. “Come up here, hm?”

You furrow your brows. Why the fuck was he trying to interrupt you during your apology?

“Wha—” 

Jake cuts you short, manhandling your waist as his fingers press into your hips. He positions your knees on both sides of his head, turning you around. He pushes your mini skirt all the way up to scrunch around your midsection. Yes, you might have an amazing view of his throbbing cock, but now you can't see his beautiful fucked out face. He breathes in the scent of your panties with hooded eyes, nose grazing your clothed folds. 

You pout. “I thought I was the one making it up to you—”

“You are,” he chuckles, interrupting you instantly. He pushes your ass down to his face with one hand, using the other to press your chest flush against his body. Your face inches closer to his member. Oh. That's what he's doing.

“Pervert…” you mumble, coyly reaching out for him. So thick and large that you need to use both hands to engulf him, pre-cum dribbling out of him as if on command. 

“I am,” he mumbles, pulling your panties low enough to give him access to your cunt, lying just below your knees. He licks a stripe up your drenched folds all the way to your puckered hole. You wither against him. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Just sit on my face when you do it.”

Your hips land down on him softly as your thumb spreads his liquid down his engorged length. This position was new to you, meaning it was also new to him. But Jake moves expertly like the quick learner he is. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your folds, pink muscle lapping at your labia like a man starved. Your tongue sticks out to offer kitten licks over his tip. 

But Jake hasn’t had you in weeks. And he knows what he wants. And it’s not the weak jutting you do against his face, or the shallow sucking you offer his engorged cock. No. He wants all of you. The sick part of you that would degrade him, that would rile yourself up like all those nights before. And he doesn’t want to have to mention a stupid nickname some stupid girl said to bring it out of you.

There were more healthy methods, he’s sure, to guide you right where he wants to be. And so Jake’s hands grip your ass, pushing you down on him harder. Forcing your hips to grind back and forth against his face at the rabid pace he sets, nose sticking in between your folds slightly as his tongue laps at your clit. Like this. Dirty. Raunchy. Aggressive. He fucking loves it. 

“Ngh—” you cry out, propelling him to push himself deeper in your mouth. You take a deep breath so his cock can slide through more easily, taking as much of him as you can to drown out your warbled moans. Your tongue finds the underside of his thickness, tapping him as you start to gag. And when Jake reaches the back of your throat, he gives you a second to calm yourself before he bucks his hips up into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, remembering to hollow your cheeks as he shoots forward. But it’s hard to stay focused when his wet, pink muscle pushes into you. 

“Fuck—Taste so good, baby—” The squelching sounds that mix with Jake’s moans against your bundle of nerves are obscene, sucking and flicking his tongue with a fervor you try to match now. Your tongue curls up to meet the underside of his girth, bobbing your head up and down with ferocity. Anything to please him. 

“Mmmm—” you moan around him. Your mouth feels so fucking good, but your pussy on his lips was like actual heaven. He could eat you out all day. As a reward. As a punishment. Anything. 

And he breathes your scent in again, groaning once more. He pushes his nose closer to your folds, the tip of it engulfed in your wetness. You almost gag around his dick at the intrusion, saliva pooling at the base of his cock. You wrap your thighs around him tighter, bouncing on his face like he was nothing but a sex toy. Erratic. Desperate. Yes. Just like that. Fuck him like you never want him out of your sights again.

He knows you're close, knows by the way you start scratching at his thighs like an agitated pet. But, no. Jake needs it. Needs you to cum all over his face. Make a mess on him. Of him. His tongue plunges into you now, index finger coming up to play with your clit.

His cock pops out of your mouth with little resistance as your body goes slack with pleasure. You're just licking at his dick with a loose hand at this point, eyes rolling back from ecstasy. 

You whimper against the slickness of his sloppy mouth, drool continuing to fall out of the corners of your mouth through your slurred speech. “Ngh—No—Let me—Fuck—Jakeeee—” you try to say, but it all sounds nonsensical.

Jake understands, more than you know, as his heart constricts so deliciously. 'My poor baby,' he thinks. Just wants to make him feel good. Wants to make it up to him so bad. But you don’t know that the only thing that could make him happy right now is for you to choke him out with your sopping cunt. 

“Mmm—Ngh—Ahh—” He’s too good down there. Too fucking messy. Why does he do this? Why does he love making you sound like a fucking animal? Your toes curl, the grip around his shaft tightening as your back arches even more into him. 

You feel it. But it's different from usual. It feels like too much. Like an impending explosion. You claw at his thigh even more, all of a sudden panicked. “Jake—Let go—Jake—” 

When he shakes his head, his tongue swipes your clit left and right. His grip on your ass pushes his nose more deeply into your soaked folds. You whimper, cheek nuzzling against his length in desperation. 

“I'm serious….” you whine as you try to pull away. This is weird. You feel weird. You try to run away from it, that foreign feeling. But it's no use. Jake's too smart, too quick. He presses you down on him harder, hugging your waist, suctioning your clit, cheeks flushed from how quickly his mouth works against you. 

“JAKE!” you scream as your thighs clamp around him, hips shuddering uncontrollably. Like a hose turning on for the first time, a spray of your juices lands onto Jake's chin and neck, coating him in your dampness. He welcomes it, tongue sticking out to taste as much of it as he can.

You cry above him, tears landing on his dick that still rubs against your heated face. He laps up every last remaining bit of your climax desperately, like they’d dry up too quickly if he didn’t. You whine, grinding yourself on him to steady your heart rate. When he’s fully satisfied, Jake frees you from his clutches, lying you down on the bed so your head can finally rest on a pillow.

His cock is still incredibly stiff. And you're still in tears.

“You… fucking… dick,” you say in between sniffles, not believing you could ever climax that hard in your life. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

And he knows what’s going through your head. Because old habits do, in fact, die hard. And now you probably think he was out fucking anyone and everyone during the weeks-long hell that was your breakup. Jake chuckles, pulling your skirt down. He bites his bottom lip at the sight of your folds. Glistening with his saliva and your juices. He fists himself tightly. 

“Still so jealous, baby?” He smirks. God, please let him indulge in his pouty girlfriend at least once more.

“No, but be honest,” you mumble. “Did you—”

“Fuck other girls?” he finishes your sentence, scoffing playfully at the ridiculousness. Your eyes narrow.

“Well, did you?”

Jake spent almost every day crying, unblocking and blocking your number over and over again just to see if you'd notice. But he can tell you all that later. Because right now, you're giving him a death glare that only makes his cock throb harder. 

“No, babe,” he mutters, swiping his wet tip against your even more drenched folds. So puffy after all he's put it through. He peppers kisses on your shoulder. “You know I’d never.”

And you do. He’s only ever been with you. Will only ever be with you. You know that. But still. The wheels are already turning in your head. You know… you're usually the one worried about these things. Doesn't he deserve a taste of his own medicine?

“Imagine if I did—”

And he slams his dick into your plushness, eliciting a scream from you. He doesn’t even let you complete your evil plan.

“FUCK—”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Jake glowers, brows furrowed. You lick your lips deliciously. "That's not funny."

“See how it feels?” you whimper, as he delivers another harsh thrust, your shirt riding up your stomach from the impact. You arch your back off of the bed as Jake groans into your neck, licking a stripe up your jaw.

“All this just ‘cause I made you squirt,” he mumbles angrily, wincing as your pulsing walls squeeze his length into a tighter grip. “So fucking immature.”

You chuckle evilly. “Immature like who? Sungho—”

His childhood friend’s name doesn't even leave your lips when Jake clamps his teeth into your neck. Hard. “OW—”

A taste of your own medicine. But his skin grazes something then—a thin chain that he's seen before but never questioned.  You never wore it when you fucked. A circular hardness underneath your shirt that weirdly looks like…

He tugs on it before you can protest, and there on the chain is a ring. With J engraved on the inside. His gaze softens. And you become a blumbering mess underneath him, shy with embarrassment. “I can—Explain—Just—” 

Jake pulls out enough so his tip is the only thing suctioned in your folds before pistoning into you harshly once more. You whimper.

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” he mutters into your ear, before engulfing your lips in his. With a newfound energy, Jake pounds into you with urgency, pace brutal against your already sore pussy. His hand comes up to grab your tits, spilling over your bra from the impact of his movements. So rough. So mean. Damn, you were rubbing off on him.

You have this aching desire to flip him over and ride him back into submission, but the slapping of his hips into yours devolves your thoughts into unintelligible moans. 

“Ngah—Fuck—Oh my god—”

Jake’s mouth leaves yours as his eyes travel downwards to the piece of jewelry. He likes how it looks on you. Sitting so nice between your bouncing breasts. Maybe, he’d buy you a necklace next. A pretty Tiffany necklace to go with the pretty Tiffany ring on his pretty girlfriend’s pretty finger. Fuck. You’re so fucking pretty.

He brings the ring up to his mouth, biting down on the metal, before he lowers himself onto your lips once more. With the ring in between his teeth, he grabs at your jaw to open for him. Jake transfers it over to your parted lips as you catch the ring with your tongue, coated in his saliva. He dives down into you, your tongues battling as the coolness of the metal moves between your mouths. His thrusts are slower now, but you moan just the same.

Drool drips down both of your lips, the ring getting passed between you two in the movements of your open-mouthed kisses. He lets up, the necklace falling wetly onto the pillow. He admires the red marks the chain leaves on your neck. Maybe a Tiffany choker instead?

And his thrusts deepen, until your cervix repeatedly kisses his mushroom tip. He wished you could see your expression right now. So needy. So perfect. 

“Jake—Baby—” When the pet name leaves your lips, Jake lets out a deep, guttural groan. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for you to say it.

“Yes, baby?” He repeats after you, sweat beading down his forehead as he continues to split you open, pumping into your tightness with urgency. His hands are pushing your thighs open now, admiring how the ring sits sloppily on your neck as he jackhammers into you.

“I love you,” you moan out, your hands reaching for his face. “I love you so much.”

He looks at you with glassy eyes, soft and tender. He kissed you again, sweeter this time. 

“I love you too.” 

And he spreads you apart further, fucking you into the squeaking mattress with his pulsing dick, so big that it fills you everywhere you need him. He pushes in and out, evoking a new set of tears to stain your cheeks. “Baby,” you cry out. “I'm almost—”

“Wait for me,” he pleads, elbows falling to the sides of your head. He buries himself in the crook of your neck. “Can you, baby? Please—”

You try to nod as he's ramming into you as deep as he can go. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, about how good you are for him, how pretty, how perfect, how he loves the marks you leave him, how he wants you to control him, how you’re the only one he’d ever be with in any lifetime ever.

“Ngh—” His hips snap forward with everything he can give. He feels it now, too. That coil that threatens to spill inside you. But he can't. No condom. No birth control. 

And when your hips rise, clenching around him, your orgasm hits you like a truck. You mewl out in pleasure, crying as Jake tries to pull out of you. But you suction him so well, too well, that it's a little too late. He twitches deep inside of your pussy. And his mouth falls open as the first spurts of cum spill, but nothing escapes his lips. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. He needs to pull out. But your cunt feels so damn good… So warm… So wet… And so much of himself has already spilled inside you… It's okay, right? To fill you up with all of it? But he has self-control. He swears it.

“No…” You whimper when he actually pulls away, his seed dribbling everywhere.

“...’m sorry, babe,” he groans, as his hand wraps around himself, stroking languidly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jake’s cheeks are flushed as he pumps the remainder of his climax on your drenched folds, painting your clit a milky white. He sees the first of his juices push out of you, his fluids like cream all over your puffiness.

“Fuck,” he moans, his fingers coming up to spread it all across your folds. But when you look down, all you feel is empty. All you feel is the need to push down against his fingers and take him all over again. 

Jake's eyes widen as he lets out a shaky breath. You look so desperate. For what? He's not sure. But he can't deny his baby anything. He can't deny himself either. He wants to see it just once. Seems like you do too. 

“Can I?” he asks in a low whisper, fingers spreading your folds apart to watch more of his load seep out of you. And you nod, shyly, relieved you didn’t have to beg for it yourself, already going through too much exposure therapy for one day.

And so Jake gathers the cum that's gushed over his digits, and with a shaky breath, he pushes them back into you. You tighten your grip on his biceps.

“Fuuuuck—” You cry out when he starts pumping them in and out, slow but still so fucking deep. His veiny fingers always know which parts to knead. 

Jake’s eyes are in a daze, obsessed with how his cum goes back in so easily—even when you’re still so tight and so sensitive. Everything feels so fucking drenched. And like this, he wants to see you come undone again.

“One more, baby…” he pleads in a low whisper, pressing butterfly kisses on your eyelids. He licks the tears that spill from your eyes. So pretty like this. “You want to make it up to me, right?”

You can only whine in response, hands shaking as they clutch onto him for dear life. 

“Hm?” He asks for confirmation, curling his fingers up to the spongy spot inside you. He grinds his palm on your engorged clit. Whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes,’ you let the pleasure overtake you once again. Your body feels like it's on fire. Too hot. Too much. But still, your back arches up into him, whimpering.

“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. Low and steady. “Give it to me.”

And you can practically hear the mess that his three fingers are creating as they pump into your folds, can feel the stickiness of your mixed juices coat your inner walls. But you shut your eyes, letting the warm tingling overtake your core. Yes—Right there—Fuck—

“I'M—” you screech, but it's no use. Your head falls back against the pillow as you sob. And Jake curses underneath his breath as you spray all over him once again, massaging your clit as he pulls his fingers out to watch. Your hips rise to meet nothing, just your body spraying so beautifully against his torso. His dick could harden once more any second now from the sight. He relishes in it, admiring his work as his cum pushes out of you again. Thick and creamy.

You look down too, seeing the fucked-out state he's put your body into. Maybe you would've been right to flick his forehead and call him every insult in the book for filling you up like that. But fuck. Could you ever have him cum outside of you again if it felt that good to have his cum inside you? No, you'd definitely need to get on the pill ASAP.

Jake’s gaze falls onto your face now, at your bruised lips and your dried tears. But the ring catches his eye once more, the one he hadn’t seen in a year. And his heart flutters.

“Babe?” he starts, lying softly next to you. He wraps you in his arms, not minding the dampness of the sheets below. He’ll clean you up later.

“Mmm?” You respond, on the brink of unconsciousness. Satiated. He touches your chain, the other hand wrapped around your stomach, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“How long have you been wearing our ring like this?” Your breath catches. You'd hoped that he'd forgotten, that the conversation could wait for the morning when your heart wasn't thumping so loud. It takes you a second before you respond.

“Since you gave it to me,” you admit, slowly. Jake can feel the warmth creep up to your ears. And he wonders how he's never seen it, how you seem to hide it so well after all the times he's undressed you before. But then again, you’ve always been good at keeping secrets.

Still, he smiles. Because even after you walked away, even when you said you were done, you still kept this piece of him. Wore it so beautifully around your neck, too.

Fuck—he’s never letting you walk out on him like that again. If you even hint at breaking up, he might actually end up begging on his knees and—

“Not like it matters anyway,” you cut through the silence grumpily. “You threw yours away.”

He lets out a surprised laugh and pulls you closer, squeezing you tight. You pout. What’s he so jolly for?

“What do you mean?” he asks cheekily. “That never happened.”

You turn around abruptly, facing him with furrowed brows. “I literally saw you—”

Your words are cut short when his mouth finds yours, one hand steadies your jaw as the other reaches blindly into his nightstand. A drawer opens. He pulls back just enough to show you the turquoise box, one eerily similar to the one you have in your closet, as he flips it open.

His ring. Silver and engraved with your initial. But how…?

“I guess I'm really good at pretending to throw things,” he answers before you can even ask. Thought I’d be a little dramatic that day…”

You smack his shoulder, but your hand massages the spot soon after, swallowed by the wave of relief that crashes over you. He didn't really let go like he made it seem. He was still yours, even when you thought you lost him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you grumble, pinching his cheek. All he does is chuckle. 

In one smooth motion, Jake lifts your necklace and unclasps it, letting the ring unfurl out and into his palm. You don’t stop him. 

He looks at you for a second, as if asking for permission. You offer Jake your hand instead of speaking. He slips the piece of jewelry onto your ring finger, kissing your knuckles. Then he slides his own ring back where it belongs, to where he’s always kept it. Jake smiles up at you, planting another sweet kiss on your lips.

And you know you’ll wear it proudly this time. Without him having to ask. 

“I love you?” he says, gently, like he needs to hear you say it back just one more time. Just to make sure. And you kiss him again, warmth coating your features.

“I love you too.”

His heart clenches in the best way possible.

Damn, he could really get used to this.

epilogue

Jake runs to the benches, grabbing at his water bottle like it’s his last salvation. He gulps it all down in seconds, sweat seeping down his body. Practice was way too intense today.

“Oh my god, Jakey,” a lilting voice punctures through his ear. “You're literally dripping.”

His eye twitches as she enunciates the last word. 

“Choa,” he starts, shooting daggers at her. He's too exhausted to put up with this today. Or ever. She was graduating in a few months anyway. He might as well say his piece. “First of all, my name is Jake. And second of all, it makes me really uncomfortable when you say things like that.”

Choa pouts, tugging his sleeve like a toddler. “Why?” she giggles. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” He pulls away, not even bothering to look at her. “I just don't appreciate how you talk to me.”

She glowers, thrown off by his disposition. He's usually so sweet, so polite. What happened?

“It's ‘cause of your friend isn't it? You know she was so fucking rude to me—”

“My girlfriend,” he corrects immediately. Choa’s hands drop down to her sides. Jake pays her no mind, packing his stuff into his duffle bag instead.

“W-what?” she stutters out. “Since when?”

He shrugs, finally slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Since forever.”

“What?!” she screeches. “How come you never told—”

“Oh Jakeyyyy,” you sing out in an octave higher than your regular speaking voice. He presses his lips together to prevent the laughter that almost seeps through his mouth.

“Yeah, babe?” He calls out, looking past Choa. You're standing with your arms crossed, eyeing her down from a few meters away. A bright new necklace shining above your shirt. 

Your gaze flickers back to him, not bothering to waste your precious energy on the small, vicious girl. You tilt your head to the side, beckoning him over in a silent command. And he follows.

Your loyal little puppy.

Jake takes your hands into his just to really rub salt on Choa's wound, your matching rings clinking against each other.

“Do you remember Gaeul from the backstage crew?” you announce proudly, the bob-headed girl long-forgotten. “She wants to hang out with me tomorrow!”

Jake smiles, ruffling your hair. “That’s great!”

“She's throwing something at her apartment this weekend, too,” you slide in. “Maybe… we can go together?”

“Oh yeah, Suji told me—” And he stops himself. But it’s too late. You’re already frowning.

“Okay, so let me go ahead and take Jay instead…” And he pouts at your words.

“Not fair,” he mutters, but you see the smile he suppresses. 'What a freak,' you think to yourself.

You click your tongue, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “...I'm biting the shit out of you later.”

And if Jake had a tail, it most definitely would’ve started wagging.

“Promise?”

fin.

A/N: Don't save him, he don't wanna be saved.

Taglist: @missoxy @cutehoons02 @zohaaz @f4loveex @rianzysworld @tinastar13 @woniewonwon @starfallia @liaviva @lhspeachie @fancypeacepersona @sanasour @reasonablyminiatureandroid @tinyhrry @nyxphobia @aernx @soulskiu @shining-won @esoteric-eye @yohanabanana @jungwongfs-blog @starjoongie @yeeunlvr @gyu-luvs @ikeuster @not-aya @ppeachyttae @psyches-reid @moonxiiey @hueningsgirl @sylphjeong @mariegibeau @beaepa @jisiziu @aloveminsalade @ilovetimotheechalamet8 @vixensss @chyshiacat @chuuiehearts @heyinnnn @sparkcling @moonstrucksofie @snghon @nct-sticker-127 @fdzvie @synielve @honeyyjw @simj4k3 @petalsofink @axfyl

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Wow

[mssishipi]

OUT OF LUCK— SJY

Money, sex, and a lifetime of feeling like luck was never really on your side—until the universe decided to fuck with you in the most inconvenient way possible. What started as simple coexisting turned into something more when you paid a little too much attention to your quiet, awkward, painfully responsible roommate—who, on paper, is a complete fucking loser. But, hey, he’s not that bad!

In which Sim Jaeyun becomes the only genuinely good, unfairly lucky thing that’s ever happened to you… and just like everything else in your life, good things have a way of slipping right through your fingers. So now you have to figure it out, fix it, or risk losing the only thing that ever felt right before you run Out of Luck.

content tags and warnings: roommate au! romantic comedy, jake is an engineering student x volleyball varsity player reader, jake has braces! hopeless romantic reader (she almost get off), internal conflict, jake is such an awkward introverted baby (he likes lego and collects hotwheels), burning slowburn (slow pacing i swear), lots of awkward erm moments, jake is secretly a simp, reader is pathetic, angst!!!! ft. karina, other kpop idols and robots as side characters. more detailed tags on each part. explicit content (smut): masturbation (f&m), virginity loss, overstimulation, hand jobs, grinding, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI.

UNIVERSE | LUCKY FAMILY

1: AGAINST THE ODDS | WC: 35K

2: FORTUNE’S FAVOR | WC: 34K

NOTE: it’s been so long ever since i posted a story and i COMPLETELY FORGOT how tumblr works. huhu. how are you guys doing?

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Just read it and you will understand

[mssishipi]

1: stuck with you - psh

PAIRING: korean sunghoon x non korean reader

SYNOPSIS: All you wanted was a relaxing vacation—a break from your soul-crushing job, some cocktails by the sea, and, if the universe was feeling generous, a tall, handsome man to sweep you off your feet. So, like any desperate (but classy) woman, you booked a cruise. But instead of a dreamy vacation romance, you got a shipwreck. Now, instead of sipping margaritas and flirting with rich men, you’re stranded on a deserted island with a random Korean guy who, by the way, does not speak a single word of English. Flirting? Impossible. Communication? A disaster. Survival? Highly questionable. Well, at least, he's tall and handsome.

genre: strangers to lovers, romance, crack, maybe angst.

chapter contains: sunghoon is a chaebol, reader is a salary woman, both of them have no survival instinct, language barrier, half of the chapter is them being chaotic, charades as a form of communication, reader is sex deprived, sunghoon is a soft shy baby but he's so down bad, mentions of arranged marriage warnings: long introduction, profanities, explicit content (smut) contains blowjob, pussy eating, unprotected sex (don't do that!) MDNI. WC: 19.6K. click here for pt.2

a/n: "italic quotation" - characters speaking in korean

the plot was inspired to the story i read on wp, title island trapped. i'll upload the pt 2 within this week, i will add and edit some parts. happy reading!

Ah, the good old days.

When your biggest problem in life was Tom catching Jerry, and the most stressful decision you had to make was whether to beg your parents for vanilla ice cream or chocolate. When crying was reserved exclusively for math homework, and your daily schedule was just playing, eating, and napping like a well-fed cat.

But now? Oh, now life has decided to slap you in the face with responsibilities.

Screw being an adult. You wake up, work 12 hours for a salary that barely covers your existence, and then proceed to pay rent, taxes, and bills as if you personally owe society for breathing. And groceries? Groceries feel like a scam at this point—how is it that you spend a fortune but still end up eating instant noodles? And let's not even talk about new clothes or makeup. Once upon a time, you could buy cute outfits just because. Now, you stare at a price tag for ten minutes, do complex mental calculations, and decide that your 5-year-old jeans still have some life left in them.

But the real kicker? You're so overworked you don't even have time for a love life. No dates. No romance. No action. And it hits you—dear God, you need to get laid.

You blink at your computer screen. The fluorescent office lights hum above you. The existential crisis settles in.

"I need to get laid," you mutter under your breath.

Your desk mate side-eyes you. You don't care. Office work is bullshit. You work ridiculous hours making rich people even richer, and yet somehow, you're still broke. No promotion. No bonuses. Just emails, spreadsheets, and the quiet realization that capitalism has scammed you.

You exhale. You need a break. A vacation, maybe? A beautiful, tropical getaway where you can sip margaritas and pretend your life is not a train wreck. But wait. Vacations cost money. A lot of money. On the other hand... getting laid? That's a significantly cheaper investment.

Your mind starts spinning. If you take a vacation, you'll relax, but your bank account will be in ruins. But if you choose the other option... well, technically, that could happen during vacation. Two birds, one stone.

You imagine it now—a handsome stranger at a beach bar, offering you a drink. He's tall, has a deep voice, and smells like expensive cologne. You exchange flirty banter, he leans in and whispers something sinful, his fingers graze your waist. The music pulses, your bodies move together, and just like that... BAM. Sex!

You giggle to yourself.

Decisions, decisions.

Enough of the soul-crushing 12-hour shifts. Enough of the never-ending bills. Enough of staring at your sad bank account, wondering where all your hard-earned money magically disappeared to. And most importantly—enough of being painfully single.

You needed to fix your life. Immediately.

So, in a moment of either pure genius or complete recklessness (you'll decide later), you booked a cruise. A full, glorious, luxurious cruise that sets sail in exactly 20 days.

This was it. The perfect opportunity to relax, refresh, and—most importantly—find a hot stranger and finally get laid.

Of course, securing that last part required some strategy. You couldn't just show up on the cruise and expect men to start throwing themselves at you. You needed to connect first. Build a connection. Make them fall in love with your personality before you let them fall in love with... other things.

Step one: file a vacation leave. You march into your boss's office, ready to fight for your well-deserved break. He barely looks up from his laptop.

"Hey, boss. I'd like to file for a vacation leave."

"When?"

"In 20 days."

"How long?"

You hesitate. Screw it. "Two weeks."

He sighs. "Fine."

You blink. That's it? No argument? No guilt-tripping? No sudden speech about "dedication to the company" or "teamwork"? This man did not care. You could've told him you were leaving to climb Mount Everest, and he probably would've just waved you away. Whatever. That's a future-you problem.

Step two: mentally prepare yourself for this adventure. Suddenly, everything feels better. You hum while doing your usual soul-draining office work, tapping your fingers happily on your keyboard. You even smile at Kai from accounting, who normally drives you insane with his unsolicited life advice.

"Someone's in a good mood," he says, sipping his overpriced iced coffee.

You nod. "I'm going on vacation."

"Nice! Where?"

"A cruise."

Kai wiggles his eyebrows. "Ooooh, a little romance on the sea, huh?"

You wink. "Maybe."

Step three: go shopping. This is where the real fun begins. Because if you were going to seduce a man on a fancy cruise, you needed the right outfits.

Dressed in your comfiest clothes, you head straight to the mall, swaying your hips as you walk. You don't even check your bank balance before swiping your card—your motto for the day is simple:

"Money always comes back." Does it? No one knows. But it sounds inspiring.

You grab bikinis, sundresses, high heels that you probably won't be able to walk in, and way too many accessories. Because who knows? Maybe you'll meet a rich man on this cruise. A sexy billionaire with a mysterious past and a yacht twice the size of the one you're boarding. Maybe he'll fall for you instantly, whisk you away to his private island, and you'll never have to work again. Unrealistic? Probably. But a girl can dream.

Step four: prepare for the glow-up. The next few days become a self-care montage. You book a hair appointment, get a facial, and even buy one of those expensive serums that promise to make your skin glow like the moon. You do squats, just in case your future cruise boyfriend is a butt guy. You even attempt a new makeup routine, though you end up poking yourself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil.

Step five: mentally rehearse your flirt game. Because let's be honest—it's been a while. You're so used to working, eating, and passing out from exhaustion that your social skills have atrophied.

You can't just walk up to a hot guy and blurt out, "Hi, I'm desperate for love, attention, and possibly a vacation-funded situationship."

No. You need smoothness. So, you practice in front of the mirror.

"Hey, sailor. First time on a cruise?" No, that sounds like a weird pirate joke.

"Wow, the ocean is interesting. But not as interesting as you." Ugh, cringe.

"Hey. I like your... aura." What does that even mean?!

You sigh. Maybe you should just go for the classic: "Hi, I'm YN ." And let the universe handle the rest. The countdown continues. The excitement builds. You are ready.

Ah, the moment had finally arrived. With a flowy maxi dress that swayed dramatically in the ocean breeze, perfectly curled hair, sunkissed cheeks that made you look like you just stepped out of a romance novel, and accessories that said, I'm expensive even though my bank account disagrees.

Your heels clicked against the polished cruise floor as you strutted through the entrance, suitcase rolling behind you like you were the main character in a summer blockbuster.

The cruise staff smiled politely.

"Welcome aboard, Miss!" a staff member chirped as they guided you to your room.

"Thank you," you said, smiling.

They showed you around your cabin, a cute little space that felt like luxury despite being, well... a glorified floating hotel room. But you didn't care. This was your kingdom for the next two weeks.

The moment the staff left, you sprang into action. Clothes were unpacked of a woman on a mission. Outfit planning was key - You slipped into a simple but elegant knee-length dress, paired it with a sun hat.

You traced your fingers along the railing, watching the ocean waves crash against the ship. The warm glow of the setting sun kissed your face, and for a moment, you just breathed.

This—this—was the life. The soft girl era you had been manifesting. But let's get real. You weren't just here for peace and relaxation.

Night fell, and you found yourself perched at the bar, drink in hand, eyes scanning the room like a hunter. You had one goal: Find The One

A man approached. He smiled, offered to buy you a drink. You took one look at him. Nope. Not your type.

He had... soft boy energy. The type to cry if you ghosted him after the cruise. You needed spice. Someone who looked like he owned a boat—not someone whose mother still packed his lunch. You sighed dramatically as he walked away.

Day one: unsuccessful.

The next morning, you decided to take a different approach. Maybe the universe was testing you, making you work for it. Fine. Challenge accepted. You booked yourself a massage therapy session on the cruise spa. If nothing else, at least your body would feel amazing while your soul continued its manhunt. The therapist's hands worked their magic, kneading out every ounce of stress from your overworked life. You almost moaned. (Almost.)

After that? Socialize. That was the game plan. If the men weren't coming to you, then maybe you needed to create a network. You strolled through the ship, engaging in small talk with other women, hoping one of them would say something like: "Oh, you have to meet my brother, he's a billionaire!"

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Instead, you just ended up bonding with a group of fun girls who, shockingly, were also on the same mission: Find A Hot Man Before The Cruise Ends. You were not alone. But still... no man.

Day three. No. Man.

You were starting to think this cruise was rigged. Where were the hot, mysterious strangers who were supposed to sweep you off your feet? Where were the rich men, the ones who could afford to casually spend a month on a cruise without blinking at the price tag?

You sighed dramatically, staring out at the ocean once again. The sun was shining, the waves were beautiful, and yet—no one was whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Day seven. Still nothing.

Sure, you were enjoying yourself—partying every night, walking around the cruise like you owned it, and having the time of your life with Julie and Yunjin. But let's face it, no amount of cocktails and dancing could distract you from the harsh reality: You were still single, dry, and desperate.

Tonight, you were absolutely slaying in a red bikini, playing volleyball by the pool with the girls, when a random woman approached you with an invitation to a private party. A private party. Exclusive. Rich people. A potential husband waiting for you.

The universe was finally giving you a chance. Or so you thought.

Fast forward to the party, and—huge disappointment. Yes, the men were crazy rich Asians.

But none of them were your type. Too soft. Too awkward. Talked too fast. And let's not forget—you had read way too many articles about their strict family traditions. You weren't about to end up in some dramatic arranged-marriage situation.

So, with a sigh, you stepped outside for some fresh air. The night was peaceful, the ocean stretched endlessly before you, and the only lights came from the cruise, glowing softly against the dark water. You leaned against the railing, deep in thought.

Spending all this money on yourself was worth it... right?

Right? Even if you didn't get laid?

Before you could sink deeper into self-pity, voices caught your attention.

"I told you, I don't want to get married!" Your ears perked up.

Slowly, you turned your head, catching sight of two Asian men standing a few feet away.

One of them was tall. Very tall. His skin was almost porcelain, his sharp jawline looked like it belonged in a Renaissance painting, and his deep-set eyes paired with those moles on his face. What a sight.

You swallowed hard and took a tiny step closer, pretending to admire the scenery (totally normal, totally casual).

"You don't have a choice. It's for business."

"I don't want to! Fuck!"

And that was when they both turned—and locked eyes with you. Your body? Froze. Your brain? Also froze.

You immediately turned your head away, hands clasped behind your back, pretending to be deeply invested in the night sky. It's not like you even understood what they were saying, right? Right?!

You were about to open your mouth, maybe throw in an awkward wave, when a loud crash echoed through the ship, making you jolt.

The two men snapped their heads toward the sound, and you followed their gaze, eyes widening as you saw a wave of panicked people sprinting in your direction.

"What's happening?!" one of the men exclaimed.

Yeah, great question. You also wanted to know. But guess what? You don't speak Korean.

Before you could even attempt to process what was going on, the ship's lights suddenly went out. Screams of people reached your ears.

"What the fuck?!" you shrieked as people shoved past you, some even falling off the cruise. Falling. Like this was Titanic but with zero romance and just pure disaster.

Someone slammed into you hard, and your knees hit the floor. Pain shot through your legs, and just when you were about to unleash the most ungodly curse words, a strong hand grabbed yours.

You looked up—Tall, Handsome, and Mysterious. His sharp features were now shadowed by panic, his grip soft as he yanked you to your feet.

You barely had time to react before he started dragging you away.

"Ya! Sunghoon! Where are you going?!" His companion shouted, but Tall, Handsome, and Mysterious—apparently named Sunghoon—didn't even glance back.

"Wait, what— Where are we going?!" you yelled, stumbling as he pulled you through the frantic crowd. Did he answer? Of course not.

Because one, he was too focused on running for his life. And two, well... he probably didn't understand you either.

Oh God. You were going to die. On a cruise. With a hot stranger. And you didn't even get laid first. Fucking unbelievable.

The two of you came to a screeching halt at the end of a very long line of panicked people. The ship's crew was lowering lifeboats.

"Please, children first!" a crew member yelled, which only made the passengers more hysterical. People were pushing, screaming, and fighting for spots.

You clutched the man’s hand tighter, your anxiety skyrocketing as the ship tilted slightly lower. You nudged him desperately.

"Okay, look—is there a way we can get on a boat faster?! You're rich, right?!"

He turned to you, brows furrowed in deep concentration, clearly trying his best to understand whatever nonsense was spilling from your mouth.

"...Yes?" he finally said.

A relieved breath left your chest. Thank God. Finally, some progress!

"Okay, great! Call your dad! Bribe someone! Do something!" You frantically made a phone-call gesture with your hand, looking at him like this was life or death—because, spoiler alert, IT WAS.

But Sunghoon just stared at you. Blankly. Then, his gaze dropped to your hand gesture, his lips parting in complete and utter confusion.

Oh. Oh no.

A terrible realization dawned on you.

"Wait... do you speak English?!"

His eyes flickered between yours. Then, with the most serious face imaginable, he nodded and said:

"Yes?"

You nearly screamed.

"Is that the only word you know?!

This was certainly not the vacation you had envisioned.

A luxury cruise? Yes. A wealthy, attractive companion? Preferably. Plummeting into the ocean amid chaos and destruction? Absolutely not.

With a death grip on the railing, you watched in mounting horror as the ship tilted further, the ominous creaking of metal sending chills down your spine. All around you, passengers screamed, objects crashed, and luggage—along with some unfortunate individuals—slid helplessly toward the abyss below.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned to the Korean man beside you, his sharp features illuminated by the dim emergency lights. Desperation clung to your voice as you wailed, "This is not the vacation I asked for!"

Sunghoon, for his part, simply blinked at you, his expression torn between mild concern and complete bewilderment.

The ship groaned once more, sinking lower into the sea. The reality of the situation hit you. You were going to die.

"Oh my God, I'm going to die!" you shrieked, voice cracking as panic consumed you.

Sunghoon continued to stare, his brows knitting together in what could only be described as confusion mixed with secondhand embarrassment.

This was not the time for him to have a language barrier.

"I JUST WANTED TO GET LAID!" you sobbed, squeezing the railing with every ounce of strength you had left.

Still, Sunghoon offered no response. Just that same perplexed expression—one that strongly suggested he was internally running your words through the world's slowest translation process.

Meanwhile, the water was rising fast.

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die—" you chanted, spiraling into complete hysteria as the ocean climbed closer, swallowing everything in its path.

Ice-cold water crashed into you with unforgiving force, stealing the breath from your lungs. Before you could fully comprehend the overwhelming shock, Sunghoon seized you, his arms encircling your body in a firm, desperate hold.

A moment later, the sea consumed you both. Everything after that was a blur. The waves tossed you around like a ragdoll, the darkness swallowing you whole. Every time you managed to break the surface for air, another merciless wave would crash down, dragging you back under.

You flailed, arms reaching desperately toward the sky.

"I don't want to get eaten by a shark!" You tried to scream, but the ocean rudely muffled your voice with another mouthful of saltwater.

Somewhere in the middle, you felt a strong grip on your waist— the Korean man. He was holding onto you, trying to keep you afloat as the ocean threatened to devour you both. Around you, screams and cries echoed in the distance. Floating debris—luggage, chairs, life vests—came hurtling toward you.

Then, darkness came over you.

You woke up to the feeling of something cool and soft beneath you. Your eyes fluttered open, the bright sun blinding you for a moment. The distant sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore filled your ears.

Sand. White sand. The water lazily brushed against your bare legs.

You slowly sat up, your body aching everywhere. Your legs were covered in bruises and scrapes, your back felt like you had been slammed into a brick wall, and your head was pounding.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you—baggage, broken furniture, random objects from the cruise all scattered across the shore. The ocean had spit everything out onto the island.

Everything... except the people. Your breath hitched. Where were they?

Your chest tightened, panic bubbling in your throat. You were alone.

The realization hit you hard, and you did what any normal, rational person would do in this situation.

You sobbed. Loudly.

You stumbled to your feet, kicking at the sand in frustration. "No, no, no, no—" You stomped forward, your mind racing—until you suddenly tripped over something.

Or rather, someone.

Your heart nearly exploded out of your chest as you whipped around.

There, lying on the sand, completely still, was the Korean man.

His eyes were closed. His body unmoving. Panic smashed into you.

"Wait... Are you dead?!" you shrieked, scrambling toward him.

You pressed your ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat.

...Was that his pulse, or just the waves in the distance?

You bit your lip, shaking hands moving to his wrist.

You don't know. Without thinking, you shot up, hands hovering over his chest.

Did you know CPR?

Absolutely not.

But now was a great time to learn.

"Okay, okay, stay calm," you told yourself, immediately panicking as you placed both hands on his chest and began pressing down. "One, two, three— Come on! Wake up, oppa!"

After a few more uncoordinated chest compressions, Sunghoon suddenly jerked upright, a massive gush of water spilling from his mouth.

You gasped, staggering back, clutching your own chest in shock.

His eyes darted around, his breaths ragged. Then, in a hoarse voice, he finally spoke.

"Beach?" Your jaw dropped.

"What did you just called me?!" you shrieked, standing up so fast you nearly toppled over. You pointed an accusatory finger at him, voice dripping with betrayal.

"After I saved your life, you have the audacity to call me a bitch?!"

Sunghoon, still catching his breath, blinked at you with an expression that teetered between exhaustion and utter bewilderment. Slowly, he lifted a shaky hand, pointing at the sand, the waves, the scattered debris around you.

"Beach?" he repeated, this time with a bit more certainty—like he was trying to confirm a very simple fact with a very unstable person.

Your mouth hung open as realization dawned.

Then, much to Sunghoon's evident concern, you let out a sharp laugh and dramatically dropped down beside him.

"No! We're not on a beach!" you declared, flinging a handful of sand in frustration.

"A beach is where you go on vacation! A beach is where you sip margaritas, flirt with people, and—" you gestured wildly, "—engage in adult activities! This? This is a shipwreck. This is a disaster. This is the exact opposite of a beach!"

You let out a deep, frustrated groan and kicked at the sand like a petulant child.

Sunghoon simply stared.

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle crash of waves and your heavy breathing.

Then, hesitantly, he tilted his head. "...Beach?"

You whipped around so fast your neck nearly snapped.

"Aren't you rich?!" you shrieked, pointing a finger at him. "Where are the rescue teams?! The helicopters?! The life-saving butlers?!"

Sunghoon looked at you, then at himself—shirt tattered, hair an absolute mess, shoeless—before giving you a flat, unimpressed stare.

"Do you even understand what I'm saying?!" you shouted.

Sunghoon flinched.

And then—you broke.

With a loud, dramatic sob, you collapsed forward, your head landing squarely on his lap.

Sunghoon froze.

It was unclear whether he was more alarmed by your breakdown or the fact that you were now clutching onto his pants.

"I just wanted to take a vacation," you whimpered, voice muffled against the fabric.

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his entire body stiffening as though any sudden movement might send you spiraling further.

For a moment, his hands hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Then, hesitantly, he placed one hand on your back, patting you in the most cautious, unsure manner possible. It was clear he had no idea what you were saying, but somehow, he understood exactly what you meant.

After a long silence, you finally lifted your head, eyes puffy and red, and stared at him with all the hopelessness in the world.

"Are we going to die?" you asked softly.

Sunghoon swallowed hard, clearly trying not to panic at your proximity. His Adam's apple bobbed, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your tear-streaked face.

Sunghoon scratched the back of his head as he tried to process your words—or, at the very least, pretend he understood them. He glanced up at the sky, as if hoping divine intervention would provide him with a proper English response.

"E-Engrish... n-no," he stammered, his accent thick and adorable despite the very serious situation. Then, placing a hand on his chest, he introduced himself, "I'm Sunghoon."

You stared at him, tilting your head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

"Chaebol, uhh... b-boat, I do not know."

You squinted.

What the hell was a chaebol? Was that a type of rescue plan? A fancy emergency yacht? A secret society of ridiculously wealthy people who parachuted in to save their own?

"Okay, Sunghoon," you said, leaning in a little closer, placing your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him in place. "I assume you're rich, right?"

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, visibly gulping at your sudden proximity. His entire body stiffened.

"Rich... big money... uhh," you raised your hand, flashing three fingers at him in an attempt to mimic a money sign.

"Yes," he nodded quickly. A breath of relief escaped your lips. You immediately sat up properly, crossing your legs in front of him.

"Okay, Sunghoon. I'm Y/N," you said, placing a hand on your chest as if introducing yourself to a lost toddler.

Sunghoon nodded, seemingly pleased with this exchange of names.

You then motioned dramatically between him, yourself, and the wide, endless ocean surrounding the island.

"Do you know when we're going to be rescued?"

Sunghoon followed the movement of your hand. His eyes drifted towards the vast expanse of nothingness.

There was a long, tense pause.

Then, slowly, Sunghoon turned back to you, his expression hesitant, searching for an answer in the endless horizon of nothingness. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Of course. Of course, this was your luck.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up, brushing the sand off your legs and walking a few steps away from him. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision.

First, you did not get laid.

Second, you experienced a shipwreck.

Third, you were now stuck on a deserted island with a man who could barely string together a full English sentence.

What was next? Would a coconut fall on your head for comedic effect? Maybe a monkey would try to pull your hair. At this point, you wouldn't even be surprised.

Throwing your arms up dramatically, you turned towards the ocean and screamed at the top of your lungs, "Help!"

Silence. Not even an echo. Just the sound of gentle waves and a very distant seagull that clearly did not give a shit about your crisis.

"Help!" you screamed again, voice cracking slightly. "Somebody, anybody, rescue me!"

Nothing. You were on your own. No WiFi, no room service, no air conditioning.

"God," you muttered bitterly, hands on your hips, "my life is a fucking joke."

You collapsed onto the sand, pulling your knees to your chest, forehead resting against them. Your body shook with quiet sobs.

If only you had just stayed home. Worked some overtime. Maybe downloaded Tinder and lowered your standards. You could have been having a perfectly miserable date with an emotionally unavailable finance bro instead of... whatever this was.

Footsteps approached you.

You didn't look up, just continued to sniffle pathetically into your knees.

A hesitant voice finally broke the silence.

"S-sorry," Sunghoon said.

Your head slowly lifted, eyes red and puffy as you blinked up at him.

"Why are you saying sorry?" you asked, voice raspy from all the screaming.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "C-can't speak Engrish. Y-you angry."

Your chest softened.

Oh, great. Now you felt like an asshole.

You shook your head, sighing. "No, I'm not angry. I'm just..." You searched for the right word. "Frustrated. This isn't your fault."

Sunghoon stared at you, unsure. You sighed again, rubbing your temples. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the sound of the waves filling the silence between you.

Then, Sunghoon exhaled deeply, looking at the endless stretch of ocean before him.

"Maybe... no die," he said, nodding to himself as if convincing both of you.

You sniffled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Yeah? And what makes you so sure?"

Sunghoon turned to you, giving you a small, confident smile.

"Rich," he said simply, pointing at himself.

And for the first time since this whole nightmare started, you laughed.

"Clothes—essential. Toothbrush and toothpaste, thank God. A picture frame? Weird, but okay. Slippers—wait, where's the other pair? Glasses... maybe useful." You muttered under your breath, rummaging through the scattered belongings that had washed up on shore.

Sunghoon sat in front of you, watching with quiet curiosity, as if trying to decipher some kind of complex survival strategy.

The sun was beginning to dip below, the waves growing louder, and most importantly—your stomach was still empty.

You continued digging through the suitcase, hoping for something practical, when your fingers brushed against a small plastic packet. Pulling it out, you squinted at the object in your hand before realization dawned.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," you deadpanned, holding up a condom like it was an insult to your very existence.

Sunghoon's face turned a deep shade of red as he immediately looked away, pretending to admire the trees.

With a defeated sigh, you flopped onto the sand. "This is not going to work out."

After a moment, you sat up again, looking at Sunghoon as an idea formed in your mind.

"They're probably looking for you, right? Because you're rich?" You rested your chin on your hand, studying him. "Maybe we won't be stuck here for long."

Sunghoon blinked at you, clearly lost.

Your gaze drifted over his sharp features—the dark moles scattered across his skin, his thick brows, his annoyingly flawless complexion.

He was attractive, sure, but not exactly your type. He had that soft, polished look, like he walked straight out of a K-drama. And while that might make some people swoon, you preferred your men a little rougher around the edges. Maybe someone like Thomas Brodie-Sangster—slim but scrappy, and preferably fluent in English.

Sunghoon swallowed hard under your scrutiny, shifting slightly.

"You're, like, super handsome," you admitted, gesturing at him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He opened his mouth. "M-marry?"

Your eyes widened. "You're married?!"

Sunghoon's hands flew up in protest, frantically shaking his head. "No, no! I don't want marry, but... I have marry."

You squinted at him, processing his words. Then, after a few seconds, you clapped your hands together. "Oh! You mean you're supposed to get married, but you don't want to?"

Sunghoon nodded, letting out a frustrated sigh, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Well, that sucks. Arranged marriage?"

He hesitated before nodding.

You let out a dramatic gasp, clutching your chest. "Wow. Straight out of a K-drama."

Sunghoon blinked at you, obviously not understanding a word you just said.

You sighed, leaning back on your hands. "So, let me get this straight. You're rich, engaged against your will, stuck on an island with me, and completely at my mercy when it comes to survival."

Sunghoon frowned slightly. "M-mercy?"

You grinned, rubbing your hands together. "Exactly. I could totally make you my servant right now, and you wouldn't even know how to argue back."

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at you, clearly sensing mischief but unable to form a proper response.

You raised the condom still in your hand. "For example, I could totally tell you this is an emergency water container, and you'd believe me."

Sunghoon's face turned even redder, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be very interested in the sand.

Laughing at his reaction, you finally tossed it aside. "Relax, Sunghoon. Not like I can use it anyway—no boyfriend, no food, no shelter. Priorities."

Sunghoon cleared his throat, still avoiding eye contact.

The hunger pangs in your stomach reminded you of your actual priorities, and you groaned, clutching your middle.

"Okay, serious question, do you know how to start a fire?"

Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Fire?"

You mimed striking two rocks together. "Fire. Heat. Warmth. Cook food—" You paused, suddenly remembering you had no food to cook. "Okay, fine. Just warmth for survival."

Determined, you stood up and made your way into the forest, not venturing too far but gathering leaves and scraps of wood along the way. Sunghoon followed closely behind, mimicking your actions with quiet concentration.

Once you had collected a decent pile, you dropped everything onto the sand with a satisfied sigh. Grabbing two stones, you struck them together, fully expecting a spark to appear.

Nothing happened.

Sunghoon tilted his head, watching with clear confusion but staying silent.

You huffed in frustration, then grabbed two sticks instead. Placing one between your palms, you furiously rotated it against another piece of wood, convinced this would be the breakthrough moment.

Still, nothing.

"U-uh... Y/N, what you do?" Sunghoon finally asked, breaking the silence.

You shot him a deadpan look. "Fire. I'm making fire so we don't freeze to death." To illustrate, you hugged yourself for warmth, then dramatically mimed flames with your hands.

Sunghoon blinked, then casually reached into one of the scattered bags that had washed up on shore. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a small, sleek object.

You squinted.

Then your eyes widened.

"Motherfucker," you muttered, staring at the lighter in his hand.

He held it up proudly, flipping the cap open and striking the wheel. A tiny flame flickered to life instantly.

You blinked. Then, slowly, you looked down at your raw, aching hands, still clutching the two useless pieces of wood you had spent the last ten minutes vigorously rubbing together.

Sunghoon, still not oblivious to your growing frustration, smiled and tilted his head.

"Fire," he said helpfully, as if you had not just been struggling to invent it from scratch.

"Yeah. Fire," you deadpanned, dropping the wood onto the sand and rubbing your sore palms. "Great discovery, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon beamed, clearly proud of himself, and you had to physically restrain yourself from throwing a rock at his stupidly handsome face.

Sighing, you sat back down. "Alright, whatever. At least we won't freeze to death," you muttered, watching as Sunghoon carefully set up the fire like a man who had never camped a day in his life.

A small flame flickered, the dry leaves catching quickly.

You exhaled in relief, finally feeling the warmth seep into your skin.

Sunghoon sat beside you, grinning.

"So," you said, glancing at him. "You know that the bag had a lighter this whole time, huh?"

Sunghoon blinked innocently. "Yes?"

You inhaled sharply, forcing a smile as you stared into the flames.

This man was going to kill you before the island did.

You had no idea how you even managed to fall asleep, but exhaustion had clearly won. When you woke up, the first thing you saw was Sunghoon sprawled beside you, mouth wide open, snoring so loud.

Your nostrils flared as you sat up, rubbing your face and trying to shake off the grogginess. Survival. Right. That was still a thing you had to figure out.

Glancing out at the sea, you searched for any signs of boats or people. Nothing. Just endless waves mocking your misfortune. With a sigh, you stood up and began collecting the scattered items that had washed ashore, piling them near your makeshift sleeping area.

A chair? Seriously?

Some wooden planks—those could be useful.

A knife—now we're talking.

Plastic bottles.

And... a fishing rod.

Your eyes widened. A fishing rod!

Determined, you set off further down the shore, hoping to find more supplies—or, by some miracle, another human being. You combed through the sand, picking up anything remotely useful, before finally returning to your spot.

By then, Sunghoon was awake, squinting against the sunlight like a grumpy toddler.

"What you do?" he asked, voice deep and groggy.

You stared at him, then dramatically gestured to the growing pile of survival essentials.

"I'm gathering things to help us survive," you explained. As expected, Sunghoon tilted his head like a confused puppy but nodded anyway, accepting your words without question.

"We can improvise with these. Maybe even explore deeper into the forest... but I don't know. It might be dangerous. We need a strategy." You tapped your chin, thinking hard.

From Sunghoon's perspective, you looked extremely serious—like a survival expert. Meanwhile, you were just winging it.

"Are you hungry?" you asked, signing with your hands—pointing to your stomach, then miming eating.

Sunghoon immediately nodded, clutching his stomach.

That was... adorable.

No. Focus. Survival first.

You sat down and started rummaging through the bags you had collected, treating it like an unboxing video. "Come on, help me. Maybe there's food in here!"

Both of you tore through the bags, tossing useless items aside. Clothes, chargers, toiletries—no food. The tension built with each disappointing find until—

Sunghoon gasped dramatically, holding up a plastic bag of biscuits.

Both of you locked eyes, pure joy spreading across your faces. You snatched the bag, ripped it open, and shoved a biscuit into your mouth.

Tears welled in your eyes. Food had never tasted this good.

The two of you ate in silence, savoring every bite. Biscuit after biscuit disappeared—until there was only one pack left.

You froze. Sunghoon froze.

Slowly, his hand inched toward the last pack.

Without hesitation, you smacked it away.

He looked at you, betrayed.

"We need to ration our food! We don't know how long we'll be stuck here!" You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

"B-but hungry," he pouted.

You wagged your finger at him. "Nuh-uh! No more until we figure out how to get more food."

Sunghoon sighed, pouting his lips.

Ignoring his silent suffering, you grabbed the fishing rod and held it up proudly.

"We can use the biscuit as bait and catch a fish! Boom—instant lunch!" You grinned, excited by your own genius idea.

Sunghoon blinked at you. "mulgogi?"

You frowned for a second before assuming he was saying "fish" in Korean. Nodding confidently, you handed him the fishing rod. "Yes! mulgogi. We catch. We eat."

Sunghoon nodded in understanding—or at least, you hoped he did.

The two of you marched toward the shore.

You broke a small piece of the precious biscuit, carefully hooking it onto the line. Sunghoon watched, tilting his head.

"Now, we wait," you said, tossing the line into the water with a triumphant flick of your wrist.

And so, you waited. And waited. And waited.

The waves gently lapped against the shore. A seagull screeched in the distance. Sunghoon scratched his head. You started humming a tune.

Nothing.

After what felt like an eternity, you sighed, passing the fishing rod to him and crossing your arms. "Okay, maybe they just don't like biscuits."

Sunghoon tilted his head, looking equally disappointed.

You scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. "How dare they? If I were a fish, I'd take a bite!"

Sunghoon blinked at you. "You... fish?"

You sighed, patting his shoulder. "No, Sunghoon. I am not a fish."

He nodded slowly, still looking confused.

Sunghoon squinted at the rod, as if trying to communicate with the fish telepathically. Then, without warning, he yanked the rod back—so forcefully that the biscuit flew off the hook and straight into the ocean.

Both of you gasped in horror.

Sunghoon turned to you, wide-eyed. "Biscuit... gone."

You inhaled sharply, fists clenched at your sides. "Sunghoon."

He gulped. "Y-yes?"

"You just fed the fish."

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then immediately shut it. He glanced at the ocean, then back at you, then at the fishing rod in his hands.

Slowly, he placed it on the ground and took a step back.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Okay. New plan."

Sunghoon nodded eagerly. "New plan."

Silence settled between you both.

"...What plan?" he asked after a moment.

With an exasperated sigh, you pulled yourself to your feet and marched toward the forest.

"Y/N, what plan?!" Sunghoon hurried after you, watching in alarm as you grabbed a knife and a bag before stepping into the thick greenery.

"Don't follow me! It's dangerous—we don't know if there are wild animals or some dangerous tribe that eats humans!" you warned.

Sunghoon shook his head stubbornly. "N-no! Uh... alone here, no!"

"I'm trying to get us food! Or maybe water!" You walked faster, pushing aside vines and leaves with the knife.

You knew this was risky. Venturing into a dense, unfamiliar forest on a deserted island was far from a smart move. But you were out of options. If you couldn't catch anything in the ocean, you at least needed fresh water. Otherwise, dehydration and hunger would do you in before rescue ever arrived.

How long was that going to take anyway?

"Y/N!" Sunghoon's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You halted, eyes widening at the sight before you—tall coconut trees stood proudly above, their fruit clustered high above your reach.

"Liquid secured!" You grinned, pointing upward.

Sunghoon followed your gaze, squinting at the coconuts.

"Can you climb?" you asked, turning to him.

Sunghoon opened his mouth to respond, but before a single word could escape, a sharp hissing sound cut through the air.

Both of you froze.

Sunghoon glanced down and immediately went pale. Something slithered near his foot.

His face contorted in horror. "Snakeu!!!"

Panic surged through you both.

Without thinking, you stomped your feet, hoping to scare the creature away. Meanwhile, Sunghoon did the only logical thing in his state of sheer terror—he leaped onto you, wrapping his legs tightly around your waist like a terrified koala.

You didn't even process the weight before pure adrenaline kicked in. Screaming, you took off sprinting, charging back toward the beach, carrying him in your arms as if your life depended on it.

By the time you hit the white sand, your legs finally gave out. You collapsed, Sunghoon landing beneath you.

And then, he looked at you.

The sunlight framed your face, casting a soft glow over your features. Strands of your hair stuck to your forehead from the sweat of running, but somehow, it only made you look more effortless—wild, untamed, yet undeniably beautiful.

Your wide eyes, still filled with leftover adrenaline, shimmered under the golden light, and your lips, slightly parted as you tried to catch your breath, looked softer than he'd expect for someone who had just sprinted for their life.

Sunghoon gulped.

Pretty, his mind supplied unhelpfully. Too pretty.

Forgetting himself, he continued staring, his gaze following the curve of your nose, the way your eyelashes fluttered slightly, the way your brows furrowed just a little in confusion.

"...So," you finally said, voice still breathless, "did we outrun the snake or was that just a leaf?"

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever trance he had fallen into.

"Maybe... leaf," he mumbled.

You huffed heavily, peeling yourself off of him and rolling onto the sand. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath, staring up at the sky.

Sunghoon sat up beside you, still catching his breath. His gaze lingered on your face, noting the way your chest rose and fell steadily, the slight pout of your lips, and the faint traces of exhaustion on your features.

"You... not angry?" he asked hesitantly.

You turned your head toward him, flashing a sarcastic smile. "Oh, no, not at all, Sunghoon. I love sprinting for my life from imaginary snakes. It's my favorite cardio workout."

Sunghoon nodded slowly, pretending to understand. Smiling at you sweetly in relief.

You almost roll your eyes. With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, dusting the sand off your legs. "Let me take a break, and then I'll go back to the forest."

At that, Sunghoon's eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. "No, no, no. Uh... plan. Me and you." He pointed at himself, then at you, then toward the dreaded forest.

You raised a brow. "You want to join me in the forest?"

Sunghoon nodded determinedly.

"But you're scared," you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Snakeu."

At the word, Sunghoon visibly tensed, quickly making an X with his arms before pressing his palms together in a solemn promise. "No scared. Protect you."

You stared at him for a moment, amused by his attempt at bravery. He's terrified, you thought, but the way he sat up straight, brows furrowed in mock seriousness, was kind of... endearing.

With a small chuckle, you rolled your eyes. "Fine, you're coming with me. But if we see another snakeu, you're on your own."

Sunghoon gulped, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Tarzan is so hot," you muttered, arms crossed as you admired the imaginary image of him in your mind. "The muscles, the biceps, the way he moves like a monkey but still looks insanely attractive—"

A loud grunt snapped you back to reality.

You turned your head, watching Sunghoon struggle with the coconut tree like his life depended on it. His entire body was wrapped around the trunk, clinging awkwardly, legs flailing as he tried to inch his way up. It was like watching a very determined sloth attempt a pull-up.

You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. This is the smallest coconut tree you’ve ever seen, you thought, and this man still can't even reach halfway.

Sunghoon let out a final, defeated grunt before—

"Agh!"

With an unceremonious thud, he slid down, landing flat on his back.

You blinked.

"Wow. That was... impressive," you deadpanned.

Sunghoon exhaled heavily, staring at the sky. "Tree... no good," he muttered.

You crouched beside him, suppressing a laugh. "You okay?"

He sat up slowly, wincing as he rubbed his back. "Yes. But... coconut no like me."

You snorted. "Maybe we should try something else before you break a rib. Or your dignity."

Sunghoon nodded, still dazed. "New plan."

You clapped your hands together. "Okay! New plan—you're gonna carry me on your shoulders so I can reach the coconuts. Got it?"

Sunghoon just blinked at you.

Right. Language barrier.

Sighing, you resorted to charades, dramatically pointing at him, then at yourself, and then mimicking climbing motions. Miraculously, his eyes lit up with understanding. Thank God.

Moments later, you found yourself perched on Sunghoon's shoulders, gripping his head for dear life as he carefully guided you toward the coconut tree.

You gulped. Holy shit, he's tall. The ground seemed miles away, and your legs instinctively tightened around his shoulders.

"Sunghoon, I'm gonna stand now—hold me steady, okay?" you said, voice laced with nerves.

Sunghoon let out a small grunt, bracing his hands on your legs to keep you balanced. Slowly, you placed your feet on his broad shoulders, wobbling slightly as you adjusted.

Then you realized something.

"Sunghoon, lift my butt!"

His whole body stiffened. "H-huh?!"

You wiggled your hips impatiently. "Lift it! Come on, boost me up!"

Sunghoon made a choking sound. He stared up at you, his hands hovered awkwardly, debating whether to touch or run for his life.

"Sunghoon!" you urged.

With a face so red it could rival the sunset, he hesitantly placed his hands under you and lifted you up—his movements stiff, careful, and very, very flustered.

"You—uh, Y/N—uh, this okay?" Sunghoon stammered, barely breathing.

"Yes, yes! Just hold still!" you hissed, gripping the tree like your life depended on it.

With a few forceful climbs and some questionable wobbles, you somehow managed to hoist yourself up to the top.

You let out a triumphant breath, balancing yourself against the trunk. Looking down, you spotted Sunghoon still standing right beneath you.

"Move away!" you shouted, one hand gripping a coconut, ready to drop it.

Sunghoon blinked up at you, clueless. "Huh?!"

"Move! Get away—shit!"

The coconut slipped from your grasp.

Sunghoon yelped, narrowly dodging the potential skull-cracking disaster as the coconut crashed into the ground beside him. His eyes were as wide as saucers, his breath ragged.

"You almost kill me!" he gasped, clutching his chest as if his heart might leap out at any moment.

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes. While you didn't understand the exact words, his tone—and the sheer terror on his face—was enough to fill in the blanks.

"Well, I did tell you to move!" you retorted, balancing carefully atop the tree.

Sunghoon scowled up at you, still visibly shaken.

"I'm just trying to get us food!" you added, plucking another coconut and holding it threateningly. "So, unless you want a concussion, I suggest you listen next time!"

He promptly scrambled further away, eyes never leaving the coconut in your hand.

"Liquid secured."

You exhaled deeply, taking a moment to appreciate the small victory. At the very least, thirst would not be your cause of death. The sky, now dimming into a darker shade of blue, hinted at impending rainfall—an additional blessing in disguise.

However, food remained an unsolved predicament.

As you and Sunghoon trudged back from the shore, he struggled to balance four coconuts in his arms, his gait slightly unsteady as he maneuvered around scattered debris. You, on the other hand, scanned the surroundings in search of anything remotely edible. That was when you spotted them—clusters of goose plums nestled among the greenery.

A wave of relief washed over you. At least we won't starve completely. Thank God for your basic fruit knowledge, or you'd probably be chewing on something poisonous by now.

But that wasn't the only thing you noticed.

It was bright afternoon when your feet reach you at the shore. Right there, lying on the damp sand, was a peculiar, cucumber-shaped creature. It wriggled slightly, looking almost alien-like.

Sunghoon, sipping coconut water through a plastic straw he salvaged from one of the washed-up bags, stepped beside you and followed your gaze.

His eyes followed your line of sight, and together, in perfect synchrony, the two of you tilted your heads.

A long silence ensued.

You crouched down first, carefully extending a finger toward the mysterious creature.

Tap. Nothing. You tap it again, still no reaction.

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you edible?" you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, as if trying to communicate with the unknown entity. And then— Without warning, the creature released a sudden jet of thick, white liquid from its opening.

Sunghoon, caught mid-sip, choked violently on his coconut water, his body jerking forward as he coughed uncontrollably. His face contorted in sheer disbelief as he desperately tried to regain control of his breathing. Meanwhile, you froze, eyes blown wide in shock.

For a brief moment, there was only stunned silence between the two of you. And then, the laughter erupted.

You collapsed onto the sand, wheezing, clutching your stomach as the absurdity of the situation washed over you. Sunghoon was now lying on his back, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. His entire body shook as he hit the sand repeatedly, as if trying to exorcise the memory from his mind.

"Did—did that just happen?!" you gasped between fits of laughter. Sunghoon, still struggling to form coherent words, simply nodded, his entire face red from either laughter or oxygen deprivation.

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes as you wiped at them. "Oh my god, we broke it." Still chuckling, you reached forward and picked up the poor, unsuspecting creature once again. Sunghoon, immediately wary, scooted backward.

"Touch it," you urged, barely holding back another laugh. Sunghoon furrowed his brows, shaking his head vehemently. "No. No, no, no. I do not trust."

Rolling your eyes, you tilted the creature toward him. "Come on, it's harmless! Just one little poke!" He hesitated. Then, after much internal debate, he extended a single, reluctant finger—

Another burst of white liquid shot out. This time, Sunghoon shrieked. An actual shriek.

You collapsed onto the sand, utterly useless, consumed by another fit of uncontrollable laughter. "It looks like a cumming dick!" you wheezed, barely able to breathe between your giggles.

Sunghoon, already red from laughter, turned an even deeper shade of crimson. He smacked his hands over his face, groaning between chuckles.

The two of you continued laughing until your stomachs ached, rolling on the sand like complete idiots stranded in the middle of nowhere. Eventually, the hysteria died down, replaced by exhausted breaths and occasional snickers.

Now, both of you sat in silence, crouched by a small fire, cooking the very same sea cucumber you had been laughing at moments ago.

You poked at it with a makeshift stick, watching as it sizzled in the weak flames. "This feels morally wrong," you muttered.

Sunghoon, eyes trained on the fire, hummed in thought. "It... safe?" he asked, looking at you as if you were supposed to be the survival expert here.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "You tell me. You're the one who said it's edible."

Sunghoon pursed his lips before shrugging. "Maybe... maybe die?"

You smacked his arm. "Don't joke like that!"

"Maybe not die?" he corrected quickly, holding back a laugh.

Days of being stranded on an island were the last thing you ever wanted to experience. It was nothing like the adventure movies made it seem—those always ended with the survivors thin, sunburnt, and borderline insane.

At first, you had dreaded ending up the same way. But now, on day four, you weren't so sure.

You glanced at Sunghoon, who was currently sitting in the sand, attempting to build a very questionable-looking sandcastle. Despite his hopeless survival skills, he was surprisingly unbothered by the entire situation.

He ate whatever you managed to scavenge, tried (and failed) to catch fish with his bare hands, and even helped you construct a pitiful excuse for a tent.

What stood out the most, though, was how quickly he picked up on your words. Each day, his English improved bit by bit—though not without some truly hilarious mistranslations along the way.

You watched him pile more wet sand onto his lopsided creation, his expression one of pure focus.

Maybe being stranded wasn't that bad. Not if you had someone like Sunghoon around—someone who didn't crumble under stress but instead found joy in the smallest things.

"Sunghoon," you called, watching as he paused mid-sandcastle, hands covered in damp grains of sand. He lifted his head, tilting it slightly in curiosity.

"Are you happy?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. Instead, he glanced up at the sky, his usual thinking habit, before nodding. "Yes."

His smile was soft, genuine—like he truly meant it.

You found yourself studying his face, taking in the details you had unconsciously memorized over the past four days.

The way his cheeks and nose were always tinged red from too much sun exposure. The way his eyes flickered upward in thought before he gave you a response. The way he would bring back scraps of wood for the fire with a proud grin, as if he had just conquered the wilderness.

And, of course, the way he flexed his arms at you as a joke, despite not being particularly muscular.

Sunghoon was... unexpected. A person you would have never imagined being stuck with, yet somehow, he made the situation bearable. Maybe even enjoyable.

Lost in thought, you almost didn't notice when he suddenly struck a pose, flexing again with an exaggerated smirk. "Strong man."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Tarzan."

Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Tar...zan?"

You rolled your eyes, leaning back onto your hands. "Forget it."

The playful atmosphere lingered for a moment before Sunghoon's expression shifted, his hands slowing as he traced patterns into the sand. His voice was quieter when he spoke again.

"In Korea, I am not happy," he admitted, gaze fixed downward. "Marry a girl I do not love."

You stared at him, letting him talk.

Sunghoon sighed, his fingers drawing absent-minded circles in the sand. "Family say... must marry. No choice." He looked up at you, something heavy in his eyes. "I do not want marry."

You frowned, hugging your knees to your chest. "That's... kind of messed up."

Sunghoon tilted his head, not fully understanding, so you sighed and tried again. "I mean, forcing you to marry someone you don't love? That's not fair."

He nodded slowly, as if letting the words sink in. "Yes. Not fair."

"Is that why you separate yourself from them when the cruise is sinking?" you asked carefully. "Were you... running away from them?"

Sunghoon hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yes."

You let out a low whistle, leaning back on your palms. "Damn. So, technically, this island might be the best thing to happen to you."

Sunghoon blinked, then let out a dry chuckle. "Maybe."

You nudged him with your foot. "So, what's the plan? When we get rescued, are you going back? Or are you gonna pull a full-on lost prince escaping his royal duties situation?"

He seemed to think for a long moment before exhaling. "I... do not know."

You had no sarcastic remark, no teasing quip. Instead, you just sat there, watching as Sunghoon absentmindedly drew a stick figure in the sand.

After a moment, you sighed, resting your chin on your knees. "Well, at least you're safe here. No family breathing down your neck, no forced marriage... just me, you, and our little slice of survival hell."

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Hell?"

You gestured around dramatically. "Oh, absolutely. No internet, no fast food, no soft beds—this is prime suffering, my friend."

He gave you a lopsided smile. "But... you smile."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"

Sunghoon pointed at you, tilting his head. "Say suffering... but smile."

Your lips parted, but you had no immediate response. You hadn't really thought about it, but he was right. Sure, the situation sucked, and yes, you'd kill for a burger and an actual shower, but... you were still smiling. Still laughing.

Maybe it was because of him.

Shaking off the thought, you huffed dramatically. "Well, what can I say? Misery loves company."

Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Misery... loves company?"

You waved a hand. "It just means suffering is easier when you're not alone."

He nodded as if absorbing the meaning, then gave you a small, knowing smile. "Then... we suffer together."

You snorted, nudging him again. "Damn right."

The conversation could've turned heavy again, but Sunghoon suddenly gasped, eyes wide as he pointed behind you.

"Y/N! Look!"

You whipped around, expecting something dramatic—maybe a rescue boat, a wild animal, or even another poor soul who had washed up on the shore. Instead, it was a coconut crab. A big, ugly coconut crab, waddling sideways near your pathetic attempt at a fire pit.

You turned back to Sunghoon, unimpressed. "Seriously?"

Sunghoon grinned, grabbing a stick like a spear. "Dinner."

You watched as he dramatically stood, stick raised like a warrior about to go into battle. The crab, oblivious, continued its slow march across the sand.

"You realize if you miss, that thing is coming for revenge, right?"

Sunghoon ignored you, focusing on his target. You watched, highly entertained, as he took a deep breath.

—And lunged.

And missed.

The stick bounced off the sand, the crab flinched, and Sunghoon yelped as the angry crustacean turned and started scuttling toward him at full speed.

"YA!" Sunghoon scrambled back, arms flailing.

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as he ran in circles, trying to escape the vengeful crab.

Day Eight. Still no rescue.

The massive SOS you had carefully arranged with coconut leaves on the white sand remained untouched, unnoticed. No planes overhead, no boats in the distance—just the endless ocean mocking you.

With a sigh, you decided to push deeper into the forest, hoping to find something useful. Sunghoon followed closely behind, gripping his makeshift spear like he was the lead character in a survival movie. His eyes darted around cautiously, scanning for any signs of danger.

You rolled your eyes. "Relax, Tarzan. The worst thing we've seen so far is that angry coconut crab."

Sunghoon frowned. "Crab scary."

You snorted, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. It was filled with random toiletries you had salvaged—mostly useless, but at least you had toothpaste, and body wash. Now, if only you could find fresh water.

You stopped abruptly, causing Sunghoon to bump into you.

"Yah!" he complained, rubbing his chest.

"Shh!" You raised a hand, listening. There was a faint, trickling sound. Your eyes widened, and you spun around to Sunghoon, grabbing his arm.

"Do you hear that?"

He tilted his head, listening, before his expression brightened. "Water?"

"Water!"

Without hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and took off running toward the sound. Sunghoon stumbled after you, nearly tripping over roots in his rush to keep up.

The two of you crashed through the foliage, excitement building—until you finally broke through a clearing.

And there it was.

A beautiful, crystal-clear stream, flowing gently through the rocks, shimmering under the sunlight. Birds chirped overhead, the air smelled fresh and clean, and for a moment, it felt like you had just discovered paradise.

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Sunghoon... we did it. Fresh water!"

Sunghoon, equally amazed, crouched down to inspect it. He dipped a hand into the stream, watching as the water ran through his fingers. "Cold..."

"That's a good thing!" You practically shoved him aside in your eagerness, cupping your hands to drink. The cool liquid hit your throat, and you nearly moaned in relief. It wasn't salty, it wasn't muddy—just fresh, actual water.

Sunghoon watched you with a mixture of amusement and fascination before cautiously taking a sip himself. His eyes widened. "It's delicious..."

You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "We're so smart."

Sunghoon chuckled. "Smart... but smell bad."

You gasped, shoving him. "Excuse me?!"

He laughed, dodging your attack. "Water here! Bath!"

You looked down at your clothes—torn, dirty, stained with sand and sweat. Okay, maybe he had a point.

But before you could respond, Sunghoon ripped his shirt off and stepped into the stream without hesitation.

You choked. "Wait—what are you doing?!"

Sunghoon turned to you, grinning. "Shower!"

Your face burned as you turned away. "Warn a girl next time, Jesus!"

Sunghoon only laughed, splashing water in your direction. You shrieked, grabbing your bag and hugging it to your chest.

Sunghoon happily swim to the fresh water, fully immersed in the crystal-clear water, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a contented sigh. He dipped beneath the surface, disappearing for a moment before resurfacing with a dramatic whip of his hair, water droplets spraying everywhere. His palms ran down his face, fingers sliding through his wet strands, slicking them back.

You gulped.

Your gaze unwillingly traced the sharp line of his jaw, down to the smooth expanse of his broad shoulders and sculpted back, muscles shifting effortlessly as he waded deeper into the water. The golden sunlight filtering through the trees made the droplets on his skin glow, highlighting every defined ridge and curve.

Was it suddenly hotter out here? Or was that just Sunghoon looking like a scene straight out of a movie?

You snapped out of it, clearing your throat and turning away, firmly fixing your gaze on a tree. Not today, hormones.

Sunghoon chuckled, as if sensing your distress. "You come, too?" he called, voice teasing.

You smirked, deciding to mess with him. "What if there's a snake in there?"

Sunghoon's eyes widened in sheer terror. He immediately glanced down at the water, frantically scanning his surroundings. "No snakeu!" he pouted, splashing water as if to scare off imaginary threats.

You burst out laughing at his panicked reaction. "Okay, okay! I'll swim."

Sunghoon's lips stretched into a pleased grin as he floated on his back, arms spread out, completely relaxed.

Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the hem of your tattered, eight-day-old dress, tearing off the ruined fabric until you were left in your two-piece swimsuit.

You rummaged through your bag, pulling out a tiny bottle of body wash from the toiletries kit you salvaged. With a satisfied nod, you stepped into the cool, refreshing water, slowly wading toward the center where Sunghoon drifted.

Despite the language barrier, you and Sunghoon had grown remarkably close over the past week. Most days were filled with silly games of rock, paper, scissors, where Sunghoon was a consistent loser—a fact you never let him forget.

Conversations, though sometimes broken and grammatically questionable, flowed naturally between you two.

You learned that Sunghoon's favorite food was something called misutgaru, a Korean grain powder drink, and he loved having it with bananas.

He was also obsessed with steak—to the point where he once ordered the same steak dish at the same restaurant for four consecutive days. The way he told you the story, with his endearingly bad grammar and exaggerated hand gestures, had you wheezing with laughter.

Sighing, you lathered the body wash onto your skin, enjoying the rare luxury of feeling somewhat clean again. Meanwhile, Sunghoon floated effortlessly on his back, arms and legs spread out, drifting like a carefree child.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax—until something brushed against your foot.

Your scream shattered the peaceful atmosphere as you kicked wildly, causing waves to ripple across the water. Sunghoon suddenly resurfaced right in front of you, grinning mischievously.

"You—!" you sputtered, eyes narrowing. "Was that you?!"

Sunghoon, completely unfazed by your outburst, tilted his head innocently. "What me?"

You scoffed, immediately cupping your hands and sending a massive splash of water straight at his face.

Sunghoon yelped, shielding himself. "Yah!" He barely had time to react before you splashed him again—this time, full force.

He lunged, sending a wave of water crashing into you. You shrieked, retaliating with even more aggressive splashes. It turned into an all-out war, both of you laughing uncontrollably as you tried to out-splash each other.

At one point, Sunghoon managed to sneak behind you, his strong arms locking around your waist as he lifted you out of the water.

"Got you!" he announced triumphantly.

You gasped, flailing your arms. "Sunghoon, you idiot—!"

Before you could finish, he dropped you back into the water with a loud splash.

Emerging with a gasp, you slicked your wet hair back, wiping water from your face before fixing Sunghoon with a glare.

"Oh, you're dead."

Sunghoon burst into laughter, backing away with his hands up in mock surrender, though the mischief in his eyes remained.

You were already preparing for another attack when he suddenly paused, his laughter fading into something softer.

"Y/N," he said, his voice gentler than before.

You blinked, lowering your hands. "What?"

He hesitated for a moment, then offered you a small smile. "You pretty."

You froze, the words catching you off guard. Your heart did an embarrassing little flip, and you were momentarily stunned into silence.

"Y/N always angry, but still pretty."

Your cheeks burned, and you whipped your head toward him, mouth opening in disbelief.

The sunlight filtering through the trees reflected off the water, making his damp skin glow, droplets trailing slowly down his sharp jawline.

Nope. Absolutely not.

Desperate to escape whatever weird, butterfly-inducing moment this was, you splashed him again—hard.

"Ugh, shut up!" you huffed, turning away quickly before he could see your very obvious blush.

Sunghoon yelped, laughing as he wiped the water from his face. "Why? Is true!"

You ignored him, stomping toward the shallow end. But, of course, Sunghoon followed, completely unfazed.

Spotting the tiny bottle of body wash in your hand, he plucked it from your grasp before you could protest, giving it an experimental squeeze onto his palm.

You sighed, watching as he lathered it onto his arms, "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he hummed your name happily, grinning as he rubbed soap onto his chest.

You stared at him, bewildered. There it was again—that stupid fluttering in your stomach.

"What's with you today?" you grumbled, narrowing your eyes.

He simply shook his head, still grinning. "Happy. We bath."

You blinked. That was it? That was the grand reason behind his weird, flirty behavior?

You sighed dramatically, leaning back against the rock. "God, you're so weird."

After a few hours, both of you remained at the same spot, basking in the rare moment of peace. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the water. You were now wearing an oversized polo that you had salvaged from the washed-up luggage, while Sunghoon remained topless, his skin glistening with the remnants of water droplets.

You watched the gentle stream, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the damp fabric of your shirt when—

"Y/N, what's 'laid'?"

You choked on absolutely nothing. Your whole body stiffened.

Slowly, you turned to him, eyes wide, brain short-circuiting. Did you hear that right?

Sunghoon, meanwhile, looked completely innocent—his usual curious expression firmly in place.

"You... what?" you asked, as if giving him a chance to correct himself.

"You want laid, right?" he repeated, tilting his head. "What's 'laid'?"

Your soul left your body.

A thousand thoughts ran through your head, ranging from "oh my god" to "is this really happening" to "do I have to explain this to him?"

"W-Where did you hear that?!" you stammered, your face heating up.

"You said before boat sinks, you want laid."

Your hands flew to your face, muffling a groan. Of all the things he could've remembered from your endless rambling, it had to be that.

Taking a deep breath, you peeked at him through your fingers. He was still waiting—completely oblivious.

"There are two meanings," you sighed, already regretting this conversation. "The first one means to rest. Like when we lie down? That's called 'laying.' Past tense is 'laid.'"

Sunghoon nodded, seeming satisfied. But then, of course, he asked—

"And... the other?" You hesitated. Your foot tapped against the ground anxiously as you slowly raised your hands.

Left hand: circle. Right hand: pointer finger. You moved them together in a very telling motion.

Sunghoon's eyes followed the gesture. He tilted his head. Then, his ears turned bright red.

"Oh."

You nodded solemnly.

"OH."

His entire face flushed deep red, and he immediately covered his mouth like you had just said the worst possible thing. His body went stiff, and his gaze darted around.

"You say... you want laid?!" His voice cracked at the end, and his hands flew to his head in pure secondhand embarrassment.

"I didn't mean it like that!" you shrieked, slapping his arm. "It's just an expression! It doesn't always mean that!"

Sunghoon groaned loudly, collapsing onto the ground, his hands over his face.

"Nooo, Y/N, my brain!" he whined, rolling around like his entire existence had been shattered.

You couldn't help it. You burst out laughing.

"I can't believe you remembered that, of all things!" you teased, hugging your stomach as you watched him dramatically suffer.

Sunghoon peeked at you through his fingers, still blushing furiously. "You say bad thing," he muttered, shaking his head.

"You asked!" you shot back, still giggling.

Then you paused, tilting your head. "Wait... are you a virgin?"

Sunghoon's ears turned an even deeper shade of red. He avoided your gaze.

Your eyes widened. "No way! Aren't you, like, twenty-five?!"

He mumbled something under his breath, barely audible.

"What was that?" You leaned in.

Sunghoon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Marry first, laid after."

You stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing. "That's so cute!"

Sunghoon scowled, clearly flustered. "W-why? You... you laid without marry?"

You grinned, casually reaching out to wipe a stray droplet from his thick eyebrows. "You don't have to be married to get laid, Sunghoon. People do it whenever they want."

Sunghoon's brows furrowed, his mind clearly working overtime as he processed your words. "Whenever... they want?"

You nodded, swallowing. Why was the air suddenly so thick?

Sunghoon blinked, his voice lower this time. "You want laid... now?"

Your breath hitched. The question hung between you, heavy and unspoken. Heat crept up your neck as you caught the way his gaze flickered to your lips before quickly darting back to your eyes.

Your heart pounded. "Why are you asking me that?" Your voice came out softer than intended. "Do you... want to get laid?"

Sunghoon swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed, and you noticed the way his breath had deepened, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides.

He bit his lip—a nervous habit you had come to recognize over the past days. But this time, it felt different.

"I..." His voice wavered, his chest rose and fell in deep, uneven breaths. When he finally met your gaze, his eyes were dark.

The air pressed around you. The stream murmured softly behind you, the wind whispering through the trees—but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was him.

Then, your gaze dropped—lower. Your breath hitched. His shorts did little to hide the tension coiling in his body, his bulge are visible and you almost moaned at how huge it was.

"Fuck," you whispered under your breath, leaning in without thinking. Sunghoon tensed. His palm braced against the rock, as if trying to ground himself. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"I-In Korea... m-marry first," he stammered, voice strained. But his body betrayed his words, drawn to you like a magnet.

You hummed, leaning closer, fingertips grazing his jawline, tracing the sharp edges down to his lips. His breath shuddered, his lashes fluttering.

"But I want you," he murmured, voice rough, sending a heat straight to your core.

You traced his face—his high cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the thick lines of his brows. He trembled under your touch.

"Want you," he whispered again, barely audible, but the desperation in his voice are obvious.

Your forehead pressed against his, your lips hovering a breath away. "Where do you want me?"

His grip tightened around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand to his crotch.

Your fingers brushed against him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, eyes screwing shut. "Hurts," he rasped, hips jerking slightly. "Please... help."

A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, but you hesitated. "Sunghoon..."

His grip tightened, your fingers tracing at the outline of his bulge before tugging down his shorts.

Heat rushed to your face as you took in the sight of him—hardened, aching, a bead of arousal gathering at the tip. Sunghoon let out a sharp exhale, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Lowering yourself onto your knees, ignoring the rough scrape of stone beneath you, you leaned in, placing a featherlight kiss at his tip before trailing lower. Sunghoon's breath hitched, his hands instinctively finding your face, fingers caressing your cheeks

His lips parted as he released a quiet, shuddering moan when you finally took him in, your mouth warm around him. His fingers threaded through your hair, hesitant at first, before tightening slightly when you hummed against him.

His hips jerked involuntarily, and he muttered something in Korean—words too soft, too breathless to understand, but the way his voice trembled sent heat curling in your stomach.

His body trembled beneath your touch, breath growing heavier, more unsteady. His fingers tangled deeper into your hair, a soft groan escaping his parted lips as his hips moved instinctively.

"F-feels... so good," he murmured, his head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his jaw. The sound sent a rush of heat through you, your own body reacting to the way he surrendered so easily to your touch.

Your jaw ached, your knees stung against the rough ground, but none of it mattered. Not when he looked at you like that—half-lidded eyes glazed over, lips swollen from biting down his moans. You cupped him gently, tracing soft circles, and his breath hitched.

His voice turned breathy, laced with a desperation that made your stomach tighten. More words spilled from his lips in Korean, a mix of pleading and praise. You pulled away briefly, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you, and wrapped your fingers around him instead, stroking with a teasing rhythm.

"Are you close?" you whispered, watching him unravel beneath you.

Sunghoon nodded frantically, chest rising and falling in deep, shaky breaths. Then, with a sudden burst of need, his hands guided you back to him, his touch rough but hesitant.

"Marry you after... just, please—help me," he gasped, voice breaking as he gave in completely.

A flicker of amusement mixed with the heat curling in your stomach, but you didn't laugh. Instead, you leaned in, letting him lose himself to the feeling, his body tensing beneath your touch. The moment stretched, until his breath stuttered, and he finally let go—shuddering against you, gripping onto you.

"Ngh,” Sunghoon gasped, his breath coming in uneven pants as you continued, helping him ride out his high. His body trembled beneath your touch, muscles taut with pleasure.

Slowly, you pulled away, swallowing as you caught your breath. When you looked up, Sunghoon's eyes were already on you— wide, shock and confused.

You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, "are you okay?"

Still dazed, Sunghoon averted his gaze, his face burning red. His hands twitched, shifting uncomfortably as if unsure what to do next. He muttered something under his breath in Korean, words too soft for you to catch.

"You didn't like it?" You frowned, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

His head snapped toward you, eyes widening in alarm. "N-no! Like! I like!"

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you to sit beside him. He cupped the water in his hands and suddenly tried to bring it to your lips, his expression shifting into pure panic.

"Why you drink it?! I-It’s dirty," he blurted, as if you had just done something irreversible.

You blinked before bursting into laughter, swatting his hands away. "Oh my God, you're adorable."

Sunghoon groaned, covering his face as his ears turned even redder. You reached forward, grabbing his cheeks between your fingers, squeezing playfully.

"Seriously? Have you never watched porn before? I thought Korean guys were supposed to be wild." You teased, grinning.

Sunghoon gulped, his gaze flickering to your chest for a split second before meeting your eyes again. He nodded, shy yet honest.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "Wait... was that your first time?"

He hesitated, then nodded again.

You stared at him before letting out another laugh, the realization making you grin. "No way."

Sunghoon huffed, pouting. "Stop laugh."

You only laughed harder, nudging him playfully. "No, no, it's just—damn, I feel honored."

His ears turned impossibly red, and he groaned again, burying his face in his hands.

"What have you even been doing with your life for this to be your first blowjob?!" you teased, laughter bubbling out of you.

Sunghoon just shook his head, fingers still covering his face, his embarrassment almost too much to handle. His reaction only made you laugh harder.

"Seriously, not even once?" you pressed, poking his side.

He mumbled something incoherent, but the way his ears burned was answer enough.

Amused, you sighed and moved closer, draping your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing your chest lightly against his damp back. You leaned in, lips hovering just over the shell of his ear. "Do you not want to continue?"

Sunghoon stiffened instantly. His breath hitched, his whole body tensing at your words. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, eyes wide and filled with eager. His gaze flickered downward, drawn to the droplets of water sliding down your collarbone and disappearing beneath the fabric of your oversized polo.

You smirked, watching his throat bob as he swallowed thickly.

Just when he parted his lips to respond, you burst into laughter, pulling back. "I'm kidding! No pressure, virgin boy!"

Sunghoon blinked, his expression shifting from anticipation to exasperation. "Y/N!" he groaned, throwing his head back.

You grinned mischievously. "What? You looked like you were about to pass out!"

He pouted, grumbling something about you being evil under his breath.

Still, you could see the way his hands twitched on his lap, how he stole quick glances at your legs, your lips—anywhere but your eyes. It made something stir inside you, something warm and thrilling.

"You're curious, aren't you?" you murmured, tilting your head.

Sunghoon hesitated before nodding, his gaze flickering to your mouth.

"Do you want me to teach you?" you asked, voice softer now, teasing.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers clenching against the rock he was sitting on. "Teach?"

You smirked, reaching for his wrist, guiding his hand to your waist. "Mhm. If you want to learn, you have to be hands-on."

Sunghoon's breath stuttered, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb hesitantly tracing over your damp skin.

Your heart raced as you leaned in closer, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you want me, Sunghoon?"

His fingers tightened around your waist, his grip both hesitant and desperate as he gave a small, breathless nod.

Back at your makeshift tent, the world around you faded, leaving only the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the rustling of the fabric beneath you. Sitting on his lap, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, your lips molding against his in a kiss.

Sunghoon moaned softly against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his inexperience evident in the way his lips moved— so hungry, so desperate.

The warmth of his breath mingled with yours as his tongue hesitantly met yours, a shiver running through his body at the sensation.

His kisses were messy, teeth clashing at first, but you guided him, deepening the kiss until he melted into you, his breath hitching every time your hips moved against his.

You tugged at his hair, forcing his head back, and he let out a quiet whine, his lips parting slightly, eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at you. He was completely under your control, chest rising and falling rapidly.

When he tried to chase your lips again, you tugged harder, making him gasp. The sound sent a thrill straight to your core.

"Impatient, aren't you?" you teased,

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as his fingers twitched against your waist. His lips, swollen from your heated kisses, remained slightly open, as if he wanted to respond but couldn't find the words.

You rolled your hips slowly, grinding against the hardness straining beneath his shorts. The friction makes him exhaled sharply, his grip tightening as his fingers dug into your flesh.

His hands moved on instinct, sliding up your torso, fingers trembling slightly as they reached the hem of your oversized polo. He hesitated for just a second before tugging it up, his breath hitching as you lifted your arms, letting the fabric slip off your body.

You flipped your hair over your shoulder, your eyes locked on his as you reached for his hand, guiding it to your chest. A sharp inhale escaped him the moment his palm met the soft swell of your breast, his thumb instinctively pressing against the lace of your bra.

"Fuck, touch me more." You sighed, closing your eyes as you rolled your hips again, the sensation making heat coil low in your stomach.

Sunghoon's breathing grew heavier, his thumb flicked over your nipple through the thin fabric, the light pressure making you lightheaded. A small moan escaped your lips, and the sound seemed to unravel something inside him.

He whined softly, His other hand reached behind you, fumbling with your bra strap before tugging at it. His touch was eager, his fingers brushing against your skin as he finally let the lace fall away.

You gasped as the cool air kissed your exposed skin, but the warmth of his palms quickly replaced it. His fingers traced over your bare nipple before giving an experimental flick, watching your reaction with fascinated intensity.

You bit your lip, arching into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. Sunghoon groaned, his eyes flickering between your face and your chest, drinking in the sight of you.

His other hand found your waist again, pulling you flush against him. "Y/N..." he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You cupped his face, guiding him closer until his lips hovered just above your chest. "Suck it, Hoon," you whispered.

His breath fanned across your skin before his lips finally closed around your peak, his tongue swirled experimentally, tasting, savoring, his grip on you tightened. Your fingers threaded through his damp hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

His free hand found your other breast, kneading it gently making your head tilting back in pleasure.

You pushed him gently, guiding him to lay back against the blanket. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, filled with anticipation.

"Want more," he whispered, his voice breathless, his hands already reaching for you.

"Shhh," you soothed, leaning down to brush your lips against his, letting them linger, teasing. "I'll give you more."

Your fingers traced down your body, grazing your heated skin until they reached the slick warmth between your thighs. Sunghoon's gaze followed your every movement, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"You want to please me?" you murmured, and he nodded eagerly.

Taking his hand, you guided him, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against you. "Slip a finger inside," you instructed, voice barely above a whisper.

The moment he obeyed, you gasped, your body clenching around the unfamiliar but electrifying sensation. His fingers were long, slender, exploring you.

Sunghoon's brows furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he watched your reaction.

The need pooling inside you intensified. "Add another," you breathed, your nails digging lightly into his wrist.

He hesitated for only a second before sliding another finger inside. The stretch made your thighs quiver, and your hips instinctively rolled against his hand. He let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering between where his fingers were buried in you and the way your lips parted in pleasure.

"You feel..." He exhaled deeply.

"You're doing so well," you whispered, your hand cupping his cheek as he leaned into your touch. Encouraged, he moved his fingers, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm that made your back arch and your breath hitch.

Then, without warning, he curled them. A sharp cry left your lips, your body jolting as he unknowingly pressed against the very spongy spot that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

Sunghoon's lips brushed against your chest again, his tongue flicking over your areola as his fingers moves. "Good?" he asked.

"Yes," you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders. "So good."

His eyes darkened, his cock strained against his shorts, He wanted to hear that again. To make you tremble, to pull more of those breathy, needy sounds from you.

"Can you go faster?" you begged, voice breaking slightly. "Please, Hoon."

The sound of his name on your lips, so sweet and hungry for more, sent something wild through him. He obeyed, fingers working you with increasing intensity, his own breathing ragged as he watched you unravel beneath his touch.

Sunghoon was completely focused on you now—his fingers moving faster, deeper,

Your hips rocked against his fingers, chasing the pleasure that built inside you. His jaw clenched in concentration as he adjusted his rhythm, curling his fingers just right, watching as your body reacted to every movement.

"Sunghoon," you whimpered, nails digging into his arm. "I—I'm close."

His lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Close?" he repeated, his voice almost reverent, as if he couldn't believe he was making you feel this way.

You nodded frantically, grinding against his palm, your body wound so tightly you thought you might snap. Sunghoon's free hand skimmed up your waist, his thumb grazing your hardened nipple, making you arch your back. His fingers inside you never slowed, working you open with a hunger he didn't even know he had in him.

"Gonna cum, gonna — fuck, please!"

A cry tore from your lips as pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling violently as you came around his fingers. Sunghoon froze for a moment, mesmerized, his breath hitching as he felt you clench and pulse around his finger.

"Fuck," you gasped, body going lax against him as aftershocks rippled through you. Your thighs trembled as he slowly withdrew his fingers, watching the way they glistened with your release. His ears burned red, his lips slightly parted in awe.

His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard when you pushed him back down against the blanket.

"Y/N," he rasped, his hands settling on your waist.

"Hmm?" You hummed in response, lips trailing down the sharp line of his jaw, teasing him with the lightest brush of your tongue.

"I—" He bit his lip, eyes blown wide. "I need you."

You smiled, pressing your forehead against his. "Then let me take care of you."

Slowly, teasingly, your fingers trailed down his stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. His breath hitched, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

"Relax, Hoon," you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his lips before finally slipping your hand lower.

Your fingers trailed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. You took your time, watching him, memorizing every expression—the way his brows furrowed, the way his lips parted in silent moans, the way his throat bobbed with every swallowed gasp.

Growing impatient, Sunghoon lifted his hips, helping you slide his shorts down. Your eyes drank in the sight of him, flushed and aching, his body taut with need. You slowly straddled him, rolling your hips teasingly, feeling the heat of his arousal press against you. A soft moan slipped past your lips at the friction, pleasure sparking up to your clit.

Sunghoon's breath grew heavier, his hands gripping your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles on your skin.

You repeated the motion, grinding against him, your body craving more. Slowly, you reached between you, guiding him to your entrance.

The moment he pressed inside, a sharp gasp left your lips, your brows knitting together at the stretch. Sunghoon choked on a moan, his fingers digging into your skin as he watched, mesmerized, the way your body took him in.

"Fuck," you breathed, adjusting to the fullness. "You're fucking big."

His jaw clenched at your words, his grip on your waist tightening as he fought the urge to thrust up into you.

With a deep breath, you sank down further, finally seating yourself fully. The feeling stole the air from your lungs, your thighs trembling from the stretch. Sunghoon threw his head back, a guttural moan escaping him, the feeling of being buried inside you unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

His hands found yours, fingers intertwining, making your heart flutter.

With a steady grip on his hands, you slowly rolled your hips, testing the movement, feeling every inch of him inside you. A sharp exhale left his lips, his eyes locked onto where your bodies were joined. The sight alone had his cock twitching inside you.

"A-ah," You lifted your hips, feeling the drag of him leaving you before sinking back down.

His grip on your hands tightened, his jaw slack as a breathy moan escaped him.

"Breathe, baby," you coaxed, moving against him, setting a slow but deliberate rhythm.

Sunghoon released a shaky breath, his lidded eyes drinking in the way you moved, the way your body reacted to him. His head fell back against the blanket, pleasure written all over his face as he let himself get lost in the sensation.

You clenched around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat. His hips bucked up instinctively, meeting your movements, pushing deeper inside you.

His name fell from your lips, your body arching as the pleasure intensified. "Sunghoon—!"

The sound of your moans only pushed him further. His restraint snapped.

In one swift motion, he sat up, arms wrapping around you, pressing your body flush against his. His hands gripped your ass, lifting you only to bring you down again, fucking up into you with deep, slow thrusts. It was messy but so damn good.

You gasped, nails raking down his back as he took control, his movements are needy. The sounds of skin against skin filled the air, the slick heat between you driving you both closer to the edge.

His lips found your chest again, tongue swirling around a hardened peak before sucking harshly. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure making your walls clenching around him.

"Shit," you whimpered, your voice breaking as you reached between your legs, fingers rubbing quick circles against your clit.

Sunghoon groaned at the sight, his hips snapping up faster, his cock throbbing inside you.

"Sunghoon, fuck! Slow down!" Your body trembled, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. His name spilled from your lips in breathless moans, your body arching against him as the heat built to an unbearable peak.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts turning erratic. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your entire body tensing as the coil inside you finally snapped.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure washing through every nerve in your body. Your walls clenched down around him, pulling him deeper, milking him for everything he had.

Sunghoon's head dropping to your shoulder as his hips jerked one final time. A deep, broken moan escaped him as he came, his cock twitching violently, spilling hot inside you.

Your bodies remained tangled together, your breathing heavy, hearts still pounding. Neither of you spoke, both lost in the lingering haze of pleasure, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

You lifted your head, brushing a gentle kiss against Sunghoon's lips.

"You okay?" you murmured, running your fingers through his damp hair.

His hooded eyes flickered open briefly, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips before he let out a breath and sank back against the blanket, pulling you down with him.

His arms instinctively wrapped around you, his body still nestled intimately against yours. His breathing slowed, becoming softer, steadier—and before long, you heard the quiet, rhythmic sound of his snores.

You almost rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips as you stayed still for a few moments, listening to the gentle lull of the waves. But when you finally moved, a sharp hiss left your lips, your body still sensitive, his warmth slipping from you. You took a deep breath, carefully fixing yourself, deciding against your panties as you could still feel his release trickling down your thighs. Instead, you tugged his shorts back onto him before settling down beside him again.

Lying there, you watched him, your gaze softening. His face was peaceful in sleep, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead.

You grabbed an extra piece of clothing from the bag you had organized earlier, using it as a blanket to cover both of you. As you pulled it over your bodies, Sunghoon stirred, shifting in his sleep before instinctively wrapping his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into your chest, his warmth seeping into you.

A soft sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as sleep finally claimed you.

The warmth of the sun stirred you awake, but as soon as you shifted, you noticed something was off. The weight of Sunghoon beside you was gone.

Your brows furrowed as your fingers brushed over the blanket, still faintly warm from where he had been. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sat up, pushing your hair back as you looked around.

Where is he?

You stepped out of the tent, stretching as your gaze drifted toward the shoreline—only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Out in the open water, Sunghoon was swimming. Not just floating near the shore, but deep in the sea, diving and resurfacing.

Your mouth fell open slightly.

"Sunghoon, what the fuck are you doing?!" you called out, hands cupped around your mouth.

It took him a moment, but soon enough, he began paddling back toward the shore, something bobbing alongside him in the water. Squinting, you saw him dragging a plastic bucket and a makeshift wooden spear with the knife you had improvised.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as he reached the surface, standing up and shaking the water from his hair like an excited kid.

"What the hell—" you gasped, rushing toward him as he made his way up the sand.

As soon as you reached him, your hands flew to his face. His skin was flushed red from the sun and the saltwater, his eyes slightly bloodshot, but his expression was nothing short of triumphant.

Your gaze dropped to the bucket he was holding—and your jaw nearly hit the floor. Inside were several freshly caught fish, and even a lobster.

He grinned at you, voice still breathless as he murmured, "Food to eat."

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him, standing there, drenched and sun-kissed, smiling at you like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Y-You didn't have to do that!" you scolded, concern laced in your tone as you quickly pulled him under the shade. Dropping the bucket, you made him sit down, inspecting his skin. "Look at you, you're so red! Does it hurt? Is it itchy?"

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he assured, though his voice was softer now, almost sheepish.

You frowned, lightly brushing your fingers over his sun-kissed shoulders, worried despite his reassurances.

"Idiot," you muttered under your breath, but your touch was gentle, tracing over the marks left by the sun and sea.

Sunghoon just smiled at you, watching you fuss over him. "Worry too much," he whispered, and before you could scold him again, he caught your wrist, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Your breath hitched, warmth creeping up your cheeks at the unexpected tenderness. "L-Let's just cook and eat!" you stammered, quickly changing the subject.

The two of you sat by the bonfire, watching the flames flicker as the fish slowly cooked over the open fire.

Then, without warning, Sunghoon reached for your hand again, his fingers lacing hesitantly with yours.

You turned to him, startled. "What—"

"Feel good. Did it feel good for you too?" he blurted out, his voice quiet but serious.

Your lips parted in surprise before a small laugh escaped you. His bluntness, paired with the slight flush creeping up his ears, was almost too endearing.

"Of course, I had a good time! You're a natural—are you sure you were a virgin?!" you teased, nudging him playfully.

His face turned impossibly red. He opened his mouth, seemingly struggling for words, before blurting out, "I-I should marry you."

Your laughter died instantly. You blinked at him, stunned. "What?"

Sunghoon met your eyes, completely earnest. "I should marry you," he repeated, as if that was the most obvious conclusion to what had happened between you.

Panic flared in your chest, and you waved your hands in front of you. "No! No, it's not necessary!"

He frowned. "But—"

"Sunghoon, you don't have to marry someone just because you had sex with them." You exhaled, trying to gather your thoughts. "That's not how it works. So stop thinking about marriage, okay? Don't pressure yourself. We're on this island, not in Korea. No rules, no expectations."

His frown deepened. "You don't want to marry me?"

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. You hadn't expected him to take it that way.

"It's not that," you started carefully, searching for the right words. "Marriage is a big step, Sunghoon. It's not something you do just because of one night. You have to really love someone, commit to them fully. In your case, you're already being forced to marry someone you don't love, right?"

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, silent.

You sighed, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead. "What we had... it was fun, right? But it doesn't have to mean anything more than that. Don't overthink it, okay?"

Sunghoon didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the fire. You could see the conflict in his expression—the way his fingers tightened slightly around yours before he pulled his hand away.

"I see," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now.

The shift in his demeanor made your chest tighten.

The two of you ate in silence. Your eyes flickered to Sunghoon every few moments, watching the way he quietly picked at his food, his usual energy replaced by something.

It felt... unfamiliar. Uncomfortable.

Then, to your surprise, he picked up a small piece of lobster and placed it gently in your palm. You blinked at the bright orange meat, then at him. "Oh... thank you."

He only gave a small nod before returning to his meal.

You chewed slowly, watching as he silently reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head before standing up. Without a word, he grabbed one of the coconuts he had gathered earlier and began cracking it open.

Once split, he handed you half and then walked away, his footsteps barely making a sound against the soft sand.

Your stomach twisted as you watched him settle near the shoreline, his back to you, eyes fixed on the sea. He idly ran his fingers through the sand, but his posture remained stiff, shoulders tense.

Sunghoon wasn't the type to sulk—at least, not from what you had seen of him. His usual carefree nature was nowhere to be found, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your words had somehow hurt him more than you realized.

You hesitated, debating whether to give him space or approach him.

But the way he sat there, quiet and withdrawn, made your decision for you.

Taking a breath, you stood up and walked toward him. The sand was warm beneath your bare feet as you settled beside him.

At your presence, his hand momentarily stiffened in the sand, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he continued absentmindedly tracing patterns, his fingers digging and smoothing the grains in a rhythmic motion.

For a moment, you just sat there, letting the waves fill the silence. Then, softly, you spoke.

"Sunghoon... I think I upset you."

His jaw tightened slightly, but he remained silent.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your knees. "I wasn't trying to dismiss you or make you feel like what we shared didn't matter. It's just... marriage is something huge. It's not something you decide overnight."

His fingers stopped moving.

Encouraged, you continued. "You said you're being forced to marry someone, right? And you don't want that, because you don't love them. So shouldn't you marry for love, not obligation?"

Sunghoon's fingers dug into the sand, his gaze still fixed on the waves. "You don't want to marry me," he said quietly.

His words caught you off guard. "No, Sunghoon, I—I didn't mean it like that..." You open your mouth trying to find a word to say.

You struggled to find the right words, but before you could, he spoke again, his voice trembling.

"I want to marry you."

Your breath hitched.

"You pretty, you kind always to me, angry but still kind. You is funny, y-you -" His voice was small, then, suddenly, his face crumpled. His breath hitched, and before you could react, a string of hurried Korean words spilled from his lips, his voice cracking as his shoulders trembled.

"If I go back, I won't be able to marry you. Then I don't want to go back. I want to be here with you!"

"Sunghoon—" you whispered, reaching for him, but he dropped his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently.

Tears welled up in your own eyes as frustration gnawed at your chest. You hated this. Hated how lost you felt, how you couldn't fully grasp what he was feeling.

"I'd rather fight a hundred coconut crabs than go back. I know it's selfish, but I don't want to leave. If going back means losing you, I'd rather stay here with you forever."

You wanted to understand every word, every thought racing through his mind. But all you could do was watch as he cried, his sobs muffled against his palms.

You bit your lip hard, fighting back the sting in your own eyes before moving closer, wrapping your arms around him. He didn't hesitate—his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as he buried his face into your chest, shaking.

You rested your chin atop his head, running your fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just think... marriage is a big decision, Sunghoon. It's not something you should rush."

He stiffened slightly, but you held him closer.

"I like you too," you admitted, rubbing small circles against his back. "But we're on this island, just the two of us. It's easy to feel like this is all that matters, but we need time. When we go back, we'll experience so many things together. And if, after a year, you still feel this way... if you still want me, if we're both sure, then you can propose. And I'll say yes."

Sunghoon's breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed, cheeks tear-streaked. His lips trembled as he swallowed hard.

"Really?" His voice was raspy from crying.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—so vulnerable, so sincere. You cupped his face, thumbs gently wiping away the wetness on his cheeks.

Smiling softly, you whispered, "If you treat me right, then of course, I'll marry you."

His lips parted slightly, a flicker of something hopeful shining through his sadness. Then, without warning, he pulled you into another embrace, holding you.

You and Sunghoon grew even closer as the days passed. You loved the way he smiled—how his lips curled just before he laughed. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name. The way he held you close at night, arms wrapped tightly around you.

You adored the way he stubbornly dived into the ocean for hours, determined to catch fish, even when you told him not to.

And you loved the way he spent long, lingering moments between your legs.

"Just like that," you gasped, your back arching as your fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue worked you experimentally, exploring your wet pussy with slow, deliberate strokes.

Sunghoon groaned against you, hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

His soft eyes flickered up to yours, watching your every reaction. "Good?" he murmured between licks.

You couldn't even speak—only nodding frantically, tugging him back to your core in silent plea. He chuckled softly before burying himself deeper, his tongue slipping inside you, sending you over the edge with a loud cry of his name.

The following days were spent exploring the island together, finding food, and encountering the wild creatures.

You'd both seen more insects than you cared to count, and even had a close call with a snake.

Sunghoon had frozen in place, legs visibly shaking, though he tried his best to look brave. You fought back a smile, resisting the urge to tease him.

"Shh, don't panic," you whispered, your voice steady. "It won't attack if we don't bother it."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as you both carefully walked past, keeping your eyes locked on the snake.

It wasn't long before island life became second nature to you. You stopped bothering with shorts most days, wandering the jungle in just your underwear and a loose shirt.

Sunghoon followed you closely, his eyes glued to the sway of your hips, the curve of your thighs and the way your ass bounced with every step.

And somehow, it always ended like this—your hands gripping the rough bark of a tree, his body pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he took you from behind.

"You're really into this, huh?" You half-laughed, half-moaned, feeling the way he filled you so perfectly.

Sunghoon groaned in response, too lost in the pleasure to form words. His hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers before kneading them roughly. The sensation make you moan, making your legs tremble.

Before you could even process it, your feet were off the ground. He lifted you effortlessly, holding you in place, still thrusting deep inside you.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as he angled himself just right—hitting that spot that made you see stars. "Oh my God—"

The way he learned your body in just weeks had you unraveling faster than expected. One of his hands found your clit, fingers circling it in tight, fast motions, making your entire body shudder. Your release came hard and sudden, ripping through you.

"S-Sunghoon!" You sobbed, your walls tightening around him.

His grip on you tightened as he pushed deeper, his own pleasure following right behind yours. He groaned into your skin, biting down on your shoulder as his release spilled inside you, warm and thick. The sensation had you rolling your eyes back, utterly wrecked in his arms.

Later, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the sky bathed in orange and pink hues, the two of you stood by the shore. The gentle waves lapped at your feet, the salty breeze cooling your flushed skin.

You sat behind Sunghoon, your arms draped over his broad shoulders, chin resting atop his head as you both gazed at the endless sea.

"No way, you want a chicken as a pet?" you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon faintly smiled, his hand reaching up to rest over yours. He nodded.

"I will cook it, though," you added playfully.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowing in instant offense.

"No. Chicken pet. Not food." He pouted.

You burst into laughter at his reaction, the sight of his serious expression making it even funnier. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Why do you want a chicken in the first place? It's not exactly an ideal pet in the city."

He hesitated, his lips parting slightly before he finally muttered, "Chicken is cute."

Your laughter bubbled up again as you wrapped your arms around him. "You're cute," you teased, nuzzling against his shoulder.

Sunghoon only huffed, but his ears turned pink.

Three weeks. Twenty-three days.

That's how long you had been stranded on this island.

What was supposed to be a luxurious cruise had turned into a nightmare when the shipwreck left you here, alone—until you met Sunghoon. And somehow, against all odds, he had turned this disaster into something that didn't feel entirely like a curse. If anything, meeting him felt like a blessing.

But right now, as your stomach churned violently and a wave of nausea overtook you, the island didn't feel so forgiving.

You sat by the fire, watching Sunghoon prepare food when dizziness suddenly washed over you. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred at the edges. You swallowed thickly, willing the sensation away, but it was no use.

Sunghoon noticed immediately. His head snapped up, his sharp gaze locking onto your face. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached for you.

You waved him off weakly, attempting a reassuring smile. "I'm fine—"

The words barely left your lips before your stomach lurched. You barely had time to turn away before you were on your knees, retching into the sand.

Sunghoon was by your side in an instant. "Hey—hey!" His hands found your hair, holding it back as he rubbed soothing circles against your back.

You coughed, wiping at your mouth, but the nausea didn't subside. Your head felt light, your limbs weak as you slumped against his chest.

His arms encircled you immediately, holding you up as panic flickered across his face. "You sick," he murmured, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. "Sweat cold."

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm both yourself and him. "I just need to rest a little. Maybe it's just the heat."

Sunghoon wasn't convinced. His grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching as he scanned your pale face. "No. It's not normal."

Despite the warmth of your body, an unbearable chill crept through you, making you shiver uncontrollably. Sunghoon noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he wrapped every piece of salvaged clothing around you, pulling you into his arms.

His embrace was gentle, his hands rubbing soothing circles along your back. Your hot breath fanned against his neck, your weak fingers curling into his shirt as you tried to fight the cold that had settled deep into your bones. Sunghoon held you tighter, pressing his cheek against your forehead, silently praying that whatever was making you sick would pass.

But it didn't. Days passed, and Sunghoon felt he was about to go insane.

He watched helplessly as your condition worsened—you barely ate, spending most of your time curled up in the tent, too weak to move. The once-bright light in your eyes dimmed, and your skin had turned ghostly pale.

He tried everything. He brought you fresh coconut water, hoping it would help. He caught fish, even managed to cook them better so you wouldn't be disgusted by the taste. But no matter what he did, you barely managed a few bites before the nausea overwhelmed you again.

And at night, when he cradled you in his arms, whispering soft words of comfort, you barely responded. It was driving him insane.

One evening, after putting you to sleep, Sunghoon stepped out of the tent, walking toward the shore. His fists clenched, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. There was no medical kit. No medicine. No doctors.

Tears welled in his eyes, his frustration boiling over as he stared at the ocean. The only thing keeping him sane was you, and now, he was watching you waste away before his very own eyes.

He wiped at his face roughly, inhaling a shaky breath before turning back to the tent. He couldn't afford to fall apart.

"A sushi would be nice," you whispered weakly against Sunghoon's ear, your voice barely above a breath.

His arms tightened around you, he cradled you closer to his chest. He looked down at you, his heart sinking at the sight of your pale face, your lips trembling despite the warmth he tried so desperately to give you. Even now, sick and barely able to keep your eyes open, you still smiled at him.

"You're so nice, Sunghoon," you murmured, your fingers grazing his jaw. "You're so handsome, I love your smile... your personality... I love everything about you."

His throat tightened. He forced a small smile, resting his forehead against yours. "You pretty always."

Your only response was a soft sigh as you curled deeper into his embrace, eyes fluttering shut.

That night, your condition worsened.

Your shivering became violent, your body burning up. Sunghoon held you as tightly as he could without hurting you, rubbing your back, whispering reassurances.

"Shhh, it's okay... " Sunghoon whispers to your ear, hands on your back when he saw something passed through. A white circle light.

Sunghoon's breath hitched as a bright beam cut through the darkness, flashing across the tent. He blinked, his heart pounding in his chest as realization dawned.

A boat not too far away from them.

Without hesitation, he gathered you in his arms and stumbled out of the tent, feet sinking into the cool sand. His eyes locked onto the distant vessel, a boat approaching from the far side of the ocean.

"Help!" he screamed, desperation lacing his voice. “Please, help us!"

He ran closer to the shore, his breathing erratic, his arms tightening around you. The boat turned, its engine roaring as it made its way toward the island.

Relief crashed over him in waves, but it was short-lived. He looked down at you—your body limp in his arms, your face ghostly pale. His heart clenched painfully.

"Wake up," he whispered, patting your cheek gently. "Wake up, please."

But you didn't stir. Panic surged through him as the boat finally reached the shore, figures jumping onto the sand, rushing toward him.

"Help!" Sunghoon choked out, tears stinging his eyes. "Please, her... she's sick."

An older man knelt beside him, his fingers pressing against your wrist. His expression turned grave. "Her pulse is weak. We need to get her to a hospital—fast."

Strong hands reached for you, lifting you carefully from Sunghoon's arms. He stumbled forward, unwilling to let go, but someone held him back.

"What are you doing in this island?" one of the crew members asked. Sunghoon barely heard the question. His gaze remained fixed on your unconscious form as they carried you onto the boat. His fingers clenched into fists, his heart hammering against his ribs.

As the reality of the moment set in, a new kind of fear settled deep in his chest.

They were going back. Back to his old life. Going back.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, stepping onto the boat without hesitation. His grip on your hand tightened. He stared at your pale face, the slow rise and fall of your chest the only reassurance that you were still holding on. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs.

Closing his eyes, he sent a silent prayer into the vast, open sea. Whatever happened next—whatever fate awaited him back in the real world—none of it mattered as long as you were safe.

His family could try to pull him away, society could try to dictate his future, but his body, heart, and soul had already been claimed. They belonged to you. Only you.

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual @arclviie

[sunghoon-my-dear]

That's so good, I wish there was a part two

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Dad!Enha! x pregant!reader!

Wc: 2,200

Announcing your pregnancy to people!

Non! idol! au!

Warnings: Pregnancy

Heeseung

"Hi mom! We called you because I wanted to tell you something!" Heeseung said. "What do you want to tell me?" His mom sounded annoyed. "We are having a baby, mom! Yn is really happy, but I think I'm even happier than her." Heeseung couldn't stop smiling "I can't believe it, finally! Call yn, I want to talk to her!"

"Hello!" You were already talking to her "Hi, dear! How are you feeling? Any pregnancy symptoms? I have a lot of recipes to relieve those!" Of course she had, Korean mothers are always like this "Oh! He already told you? That's great. I'm feeling really happy, I really wanted a baby! And for symptoms, I just feel morning sickness." It was your first baby, so you were really excited "Did Heeseung take you to a doctor? Is he treating you well? " Your mother in law wanted to make sure everything was okay "Yes, he did. And he is treating me really well!" You really loved your husband "Good, good. That is the boy I raised him to be!"

"Mom, I think you have already asked enough questions." Heeseung entered the conversation after some time. "Ok, so I'm hanging up. We're going to have a good talk, you bratty rat." His mom was kind of angry at him, probably because he interrupted her "Mom, stop! I'm a grown adult!" He defended himself. His mom didn't say anything, just hang up.

"Your mom asked so many questions, oh my god." You kind of hated being asked too many questions "I'm so sorry, I'm really, really, deeply sorry!" He got on his knees. "Hee, I was joking!"

You love to see his worried face. He hugged you and you stayed like that for a long time.

Jay

Jay was extremely happy with your pregnancy, he was so happy that he wanted to tell everyone about it. Now that you were on your second trimester and he could tell everyone, here were the both of you telling the whole Park company about it.

"Good morning! Today we are here to announce some big news!" His secretary said. "Me and Mrs. Park are expecting!" Jay stepped up and said with the biggest grin on his face.

You could already hear the gossip. "I thought they were married for convenience!" "Me too, that's crazy." "For me, it's not because they love each other, it's because rich people always sleep around with each other, and since they are married they just enjoyed it!" "Oh! Yeah, you might be right" "She's definitely right!"

You kind of liked to hear the gossip. Little did they know you and jay were actually really close since you were kids. But they were kind of right, rich kids do sleep arowith each other, in your case it was only with Jay, and it was an arranged marriage, but thankfully it happened to be with you and Jay.

Later, when you were tucjed in bed you woke jay up and started talking "I think you just gave them shit to talk about for a whole year." You commented "Yeah, probably. But I don’t care! I just want them to know I'm having a baby with the love of my life!" "Jay, you're hopeless!" What do you mean, tiny cute little muffin" "Don't call me that!" "Why not?" "Just don't, it's super weird! You will sleep in the couch for a whole month if you call me that again." "I'm sorry, princess! Not calling you tiny cute little muffin anymore, okay?" You both just laughed at that random conversation and went to sleep.

Jake

You offered to go with Jake, but he wanted to tell his group of friends alone, when you asked why he said that they would say a lot of unnecessary shit, so it would be better for you to stay. He also said he would take both of your kids with him so you could rest, and of course, you agreed.

"I have an announcement, guys!" Jake said while he tried to hold both of your kids on his lap ag the same time "What is it hyung?" Niki was the first one to ask.

"We are having a baby!" After that the boys wouldn't stop talking.

"What the fuck, Jake! Three under three?" Sunghoon said. "Yeah, like do you even sleep?" Sunoo kinda of whispered. "You must have a crazy sex drive, I'm impressed" Heeseung gave his opinion. Jay and Jungwon just starred at each other and started laughing.

"Hey! Don't say things like that in front of my kids!" Jake pouted "They don't even understand us!" Niki replied. "Of course they do, my poor babies."

After talking and playing with the kids for some time you called.

"Jake, can you please come home? I have a really strong craving for apple pie with doritos and ground meat. Also drop the kids at your mom's... I'm like reallyyyyyy horny..." you were dying for him to come home "Yeah, babe. I'm getting home with everything in like 30 minutes or something... Wait for me!"

"Wait, you're going home to more baby making activities? Wow, you're actually unstoppable!"

"Shut up, Niki! You are just saying that because you’re bitchless!" Jake said.

"Like you have anyone!" Niki replied.

"I'm literally married, Niki! I have two... I mean, three kids now!" And that was the last thing Jake said before running back to you.

Sunghoon

Your dad was making your favorite dish, but the smell you used to love was nearly making you gag.

"Are you okay, love? Do you want me to make some lemon water?" Sunghoon carefully asked you "No, I'm fine. I need to tell them." "Are you sure you're ready?" "Yeah"

After some time everyone gathered around the table to share your birthday meal. You wanted a small party, so the only people at your house were your parents, your husband and older sister.

"So, you told me you wanted to tell us something? What is it?" Of course your sister remembered "You wanted to tell us something?" Good, now your mother also wanted to know.

You looked at your husband and he gave you a reassuring look, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. "You want me to say it? Everything is going to be alright." He whispered "No, I'll do it."

"Ok, I do have something to say... I'm pregnant!"

At first, no one said anything. They were surprised, like REALLY surprised. "No, there's no way! You're joking. You always told us you would never have kids!" You sister was the first one to break the silence. "You said you would never have babies, but here you are! Your sister said she wanted 5 kids, she's 6 years older than you and she doesn't even have a boyfriend!" Your dad said. Your mom kept silent.

You actually wanted 5 kids since you were like 12, but you always told your parents you didn't want kids, because you tought they would think about sex, so you just sticked with your lame excuse.

"I don't understand, you liked it?" You really couldn't understand their reaction "Of course we liked it dear... We're just a little... Impressed..." Your mom was calmer than you thought she would be. "I'm mainly impressed that YOU both had sex! That's weird! I tought that, even tough you are married, my baby sister wouldn't make babies this young! Gross!" You had to control yourself not to slap your sister "I'm not that young! I'm 24! Also, shut the fuck up." You said in a voice tone higher than usual. "Baby, calm down, stress is not good for the baby." Of course Sunghoon would try to calm you down. "Only because I love you, Hoon." You said, knowing what your sister would do. "EWWWW".

"Okay kids, stop arguing! Time to eat!" After some time, your dad interrupted you. You just agreed and enjoyed the meal with your family.

You wanted them to be more caring about your soon to be born child than they were. You felt neglected, but your husband was there to support you when you couldn't stop crying at home (it wasn't that bad, you were only crying because of the pregnancy hormones).

Jungwon

It was your first time seeing your brother in a really long time. You had just arrived at the airport. Jungwon was by your side, with his hand on your back. Your bump was already big and heavy, since you were 8 months pregnant.

"Nice fake pregnancy belly! Good joke sis!" He laughed and then toched your stomach so he could remove the fake belly, when he felt your bump was hard and uremovable he panicked. You didn't say anything, just smiled. "Nooooooo, there's no way! You would have told me... right?" He was about to cry. "Don't cryyyy! It was a surprise! When you told me you were gonna come here some time ago, I decided to tell you later!" You couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, cool betrayal surprise. I won't be mad at you, yn, because you are my sister and because you are pregnant. But at this asshole, oh, I will be mad, very mad." He proceeded to shake jungwon.

"Didn't I tell you to wait until marriage to do shit with mys sister? Didn’t you understand? Apologize right now!" Your brother angrily said. "I won't apologize for having a baby with yn! That's something that we really wanted!" Jungwon replied. "Okay guys, stop. All this time standing is killing me! Can we go home?" And just like that they stopped and started talking about the most random things.

You were used to them being like this since you were a kid, since your brother Heeseung and jungwon were childhood best friends. You found their relationship realty cute, actually.

Sunoo

You were at your best friend's house. You wanted her to be the first person besides Sunoo to know that you were pregnant.

"So, Chae, remember what I was going to tell you?" You took Chaewon's hand. "Yes, I remember... Wait, I don't... Did you tell me?" She looked confused. "Nooo! I mean, remember the text I sent you saying I need to tell you something! You dumbass." You explained. "Oh, yeah. I remember that."

"I'm pregnant!"

"OH-MY-GOD! You are having a baby with your little twink boyfriend?" She pit her hand over her mouth. "Hey! At least I found someone my type!" You said. "I'm not complaining about your little twink! I'm going to be the best auntie ever!" Knowing her, she would actually be the best aunt ever.

After that you jaut talked about babies for a while and then you went home.

"Sunoooo, I'm home!" You looked to the living room and there he was. Sunoo was organizing and folding your chlotes. "Hi, sweetie! How was your visit to Chaweon's house?" He looked at you. "It was pretty good, I told her about our baby. I kinda felt bad, she's been trying for a baby and I didn’t even try and I got pregnant..." Now that you got home you were thinking about that. "Oh, love! Are you crying? Don't cry! She will also be able to get pregnant too! Keep calm!" He hugged you.

2 months later Chaweon got pregnant. You were both really happy about your "matching" babies.

Niki

"Your parents are going to tell my parents and they are going to kill me! It's all YOUR fault! I hate you! I'm only 18! You ruined my life!" You screamed at Niki "I know, I know! Calm down! I'm really sorry, okay? But don't say our baby ruined your life! Everything is going to be okay! My mom was also a teen parent, she's going to understand! Maybe she will even help!" Niki tried to calm you down "but what about mine? I'm gonna be homeless!" You were really worried "You won't be homeless! You can live with me!" Niki explained "That doesn't make it any better!"

Later you were in front of his parents, drinking tea. "Dear, you look so worried! You look just like me when I was your age, when Niki came into my life..." Oh, good, now you have to tell her something she basically just said. "Uhmmm... Maybe it's because I'm in the same place you were." The moment you said that, she understood what you meant "What do you mean?" Well... His dad didn't really understand "We're going to have a baby, dad." Niki said. The room went silent.

"Do your parents know?" His mom asked. "They don't know it yet." You answered. "Ok, the first thing we need to do is tell them. I just want you to know everything is going to be alright, I tell you this from my own experience." Her voice was really calming. "They will kill me! I will be homeless if I tell them!" You were really scared. "Don't worry, I will help you. Also, you will not be homeless, you can live with us if anything bad happens!" She even wanted you to live with them.

"I didn’ think you would follow my steps, Niki. I will find you both a great place to live together. You need to be responsible and raise this kid well. Now that you already did it, I will give you all the support I wish I had." You didn't think his dad would be like this, it surprised you a lot. "Thanks dad! I promise we will be responsible!" Niki ran a hand trough his hair, kinda proud of himself.

"And we will take to a doctor, okay? Today." You already loved his mom, she was so kind. "Ok! It will make me less worried, probably!" You wanted see if everything was fine with your baby. "When you see your baby everything will get lighter." She seemed excited to meet the baby too.

Telling his parents wasn't bad, the only problem would be telling your parents.

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Thank you for 100 notes!

[vmpiricou]

﹕﹒★﹒  CASE CLOSE, OPEN HEART.   박성훈

synopsis: You always believed that Park Sunghoon will be a constant presence in your life. He's your childhood friend, your safe place and the one person who knew you better than anyone else. Until he left without a warning. Years later, after acheving your dream of becoming a lawyer, your world was flipped upside down when you find yourself working under him. Gone was the boy you once knew. Sunghoon is distant and unrecognizable, treating you nothing more than an employee. But as old memories resurface beneath your relationship, it became clear that some bonds and feelings were truly never left behind.

pairing: legal associate! park sunghoon x trainee solicitor! fem! reader.

content: childhood friends to lovers, lawyer au, office romance, resolved sexual tension, miscommunications, family issues, emotionally constipated +yearner sunghoon, jealousy, it gets hella worse before it gets slightly better, major angst with comfort, explicit mature content, belly bulge, mild breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), inappropriate usage of tie, hair-pulling, pussy eating+fingering.

word count: 26.4k.

from author: finally done with this bad boy. this is dedicated to my other twin, my other half and the yin to my yang @lolliloopsy for wanting lawyer sunghoon. this is by far my favorite fic to and it got me listening to sabrina claudio nonstop too. the smut is actually unreadable im so sorry.

mini playlist: freak - doja cat, truth is - sabrina claudio, did we lose our minds - sabrina claudio, tell me what you want - sasha keable, sex with me - rihanna.

taglist: @lolliloopsy, @jaylaxies, @dollhoonki, @byshens, @st4rg1rlies, @bunnyhoon, @tia-08, @heesroses, @betagalactose, @ellushic, @yeonyeonbun, @blueluvies, @lawjakesim, @bitemhoon, @wonscrchy, @engeneheree, @fancypeacepersona, @yenienha, @cumtrov3rsy, @wintyher, @areikii, @f0xinyy, @marigold55, @ming1luvr, @stwryun, @cloud-lyy.

You remembered that fateful, memorable day like it had just happened recently. It was summer and during the brief three months break before classes resumed. Looking back at it, you should have known things weren't as what they seemed on the surface. You should have seen the obvious signs. All because you didn't look properly, even though he was beside you.

You were eighteen back then while your childhood friend was already nineteen. He's no longer a child but rather, a freshly new, pure young adult. Something he wasn't afraid of shoving it into your face the moment it was midnight. Park Sunghoon was nothing but filled with arrogance that never failed to make you wished you could knocked him down a few pegs.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere!"

You looked up to see Sunghoon stopping before you. His expression faltered at the sight of your red, swollen and watery eyes along with your loud sniffling sounds and how you're biting on your bottom lip to stifle your cries. He sighed, stepping closer to sit on your right on the bench you're seated on. The boy wasted no time in pulling you close to him, allowing you to bury your head in his chest.

He lets you cried and sobbed like a newborn baby, not caring how you're soaking and staining his shirt with your fresh, salty tears. Sunghoon remained silent the entire time, patting your back with one hand while whispering comforting words into your ear. It took you about thirty minutes or so to calm down. When you did, you awkwardly pulled back and he withdrew his hand, resting it on his lap with his eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering sadness.

"What happened?" He asked.

You stubbornly shook your head, keeping your lips sealed shut. Sunghoon sighed, reaching out to rest his hand on your left shoulder to give it an reassuring squeeze. An action that spoke volume.

"Come on, you know you can tell me anything," he gently coaxed you.

You sniffled, raising your hands but the boy was faster. He placed his right hand over yours, gingerly wiping the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. The way he does it was so gentle, loving and caring, like he's afraid of harming you. It's not what friends will do but that's a topic for another time. Perhaps when both of you are fully-grown adults then the elephant in the room will be addressed.

"..Do you think I'm ugly?" You managed to croak out, not having the courage to look him in the eyes.

Silence.

At the stretched silence, you raised your head, ready to change the topic, only for you to pause. You made eye contact with Sunghoon but what caught your attention was the way he looked at you. There was a mixture of emotions—disbelief, pain and anger. Disbelief that you dared to utter those words out, right in front of him. Pain and anger because you chose to believe in someone's words.

Someone that's not him, who will do anything to turn that frown upside down.

"No, gods no," he quickly replied, now cupping your face in his hands.

His thumbs rested on the skin underneath your eyes. It took all of his self-restraint to not do something stupid that could potentially ruined your friendship. After all, Park Sunghoon is nothing but a hopeless fool who is head over heels for you. For a girl who had seen the worst and best of him. For a girl who had became a staple, permanent presence in his life.

He cleared his throat before speaking, features softening—a habit he does whenever he's with you without him knowing.

"I don't know who's been telling you these lies, but they are wrong. They don't know how kind you are to the people around you. They don't know how you're selfless, always putting other people first rather than your own needs. They don't know how strong, sweet and loving you are."

Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly as he starts to ramble, letting out the pent-up feelings that were locked deep in his chest, imprinted in the back of his mind for a long, long time. You stared at him, rendered speechless.

"Sunghoon, I…"

Your voice trailed off, ears and cheeks turning a light shade of red.

"I don't know what to say but thank you," you finished, flashing him a smile, a smile he returned without hesitation.

"Of course, angel. That's what friends are for."

You hummed. "We'll be friends forever, right?"

Sunghoon paused briefly, something unreadable flickered across his face but you didn't see it, too caught up in your own thoughts and the current moment. It was gone when he blinked and he smiled, pretending nothing happened while ignoring the lingering guilt residing in his stomach.

"Yeah, we'll be friends forever. You're my ride and die."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

◟‿୨୧‿◞

"Hello? Earth to (Name)? Anyone home?"

"Ow!"

You yelped when someone whacked your head, snapping you back to reality. You scowled when it's none other than your friend who's also your co-worker at the same time—Choi Beomgyu. He held a rolled-up document in his right hand, looking down at you with his signature, infuriating smug grin that stretches across his face. Your left eyelid twitched, resisting the urge to leap across the table and strangle him to death.

"Jeez, stop glaring at me like that, lover girl. Just because you're working under Sung—"

Beomgyu didn't get to finish his sentence, not when someone purposely and roughly bumped his shoulder against him. You snorted at how he let out a startled yelp, body tilting to the left with his limbs flailing about, like a wild, frantic chicken. Thankfully, he didn't fall and managed to regain his balance, spinning on the spot to throw a traitorous glare to the third person, who slipped in soundlessly.

"Hey! What was that for!? You could've hurt this gorgeous face of mine!" He exclaimed, pointing at his own face and you groaned, making a fake gagging noise in the background and Beomgyu flipped you off without looking at you.

Lee Heeseung—another close friend of yours, merely rolled his eyes and flashed the older man a flat, unimpressed look. "Shut up and get back to work, Gyu. Unless you want to work overtime again."

Both of you snickered in unison at the offended look Beomgyu threw at him, but he knew Heeseung was right. Which was why he turned, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he returned to his desk. Heeseung rolled his eyes before turning to you, with his signature smile now plastered on his face, the kind of smile used to impress his colleagues around him. Also the kind of smile used on simple-minded, hopeless women.

Not you though. Not when a certain someone had captured your heart a long time ago.

"Here's the documents you needed for your case," he said, raising his left hand over the wall of your cubicle, revealing a stack of papers, earning a groan from you.

"Ugh, shooting me with a gun would've hurt less," you complained, accepting them nonetheless as you placed it at the corner of your messy desk.

Heeseung clicked his tongue, shifting to rest both of his arms on the edge of the cubicle, looking down at you from where he stood. Amusement flickered across his doe-like eyes at your reaction. It's obvious he's having the time of his life watching you suffer, much to your annoyance. You would have said or do something, like to flip him off but you felt it before he even entered.

The temperature in the room dropped a notch. Even though the air conditioner was set at a tolerable twenty-four degrees, it felt like it was lowered to nineteen. The previous rounds of hushed murmurs and chatter vanished the moment he stepped into everyone's visions. To say he's a sight to behold would be the biggest understatement of the century.

Park Sunghoon walked in with measured steps, each one unhurried and controlled. His presence alone demanded for space and the room willingly gave it to him. It was either utter obedience or receiving his signature, cold and piercing gaze. A gaze that can sent even the most fearless man running with his invisible tail between his legs.

He's dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that fitted him well to the core, like it was made for no one else but just him alone. The sharp lines of his midnight blue blazer further accentuated his broad, firm and his oh so reliable shoulders. Shoulders that had been carrying the firm ever since his first day. The crisp white shirt beneath deeply contrasted against the dark tones. Not a single crease or a strand of hair seen or misplaced.

Everything was purely calculated and all according to plan.

His expression remained neutral. Either he was unaware or chose to ignore the effect he has on people. How conversations died mid-sentence. How the sound of fingers flying across keyboards came to an abrupt halt and how even the faint rustling of papers seemed to disappear into thin air. Everyone's eyes were immediately on him, whether they knew it or not.

Seeing him—your childhood friend, the very same boy who never failed to make you feel at ease, to bring a smile on your face, to make you laughed until you were shedding tears, now replaced with someone who you barely knew anymore, did something to you. You felt like you were stabbed in the chest.

He felt familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and you didn't like that at all.

Sunghoon didn't stop walking, not sparing anyone his attention—not that any of them were worthy of his attention in the first place. Heeseung had long scrambled back to his own desk, like the true traitor he is as he left you alone to fend for yourself—

Until he stopped right in front of your desk.

It took all of you to not visibly flinched, to not show any ounce of reaction. Up close, he felt even colder and more unreachable, a feat you didn't think was possible in the first place. For a brief moment, he said nothing. His gaze settled on you, steady and unreadable, like he had became an expert in hiding his feelings.

"See me in my office."

His voice was low, even and authoritative. It's clear he didn't tell you to wait for your reaction. It's clear it wasn't a request. But rather, a demand. A command that you should obeyed, unless you're asking to get fired on the spot. Before you could processed it, he had turned away and walked off, like summoning you was nothing more than another mere, simple task on his to-do list.

It was only when his figure was out of sight was when everyone loosened up, heaving a sigh of relief in unison. Heeseung wasted no time in sliding his chair over to you. His cubicle was only situated on your right, allowing him to move over without any difficulties.

"Oh, you're definitely fucked," he muttered, clearly entertained with him absentmindedly spinning a pen with his left index and middle fingers.

You shot him a look. "Not helping."

"I wasn't trying to help though."

"Fuck you."

"No thank you. Bet you'd love to fuck Sung—"

"Heeseung!"

◟‿୨୧‿◞

After mentally preparing yourself for five minutes along with Heeseung being the helpful friend he is, by laughing at your predicament, you grabbed your trusty notebook that had been stained with tears and caffeine it's a miracle you were still able to use and your pen before leaving. You chose to ignore the "Good luck and don't die!" words Beomgyu shouted at your retreating figure.

Sunghoon's office was located on the other end of the thirty-fifth floor. Yes, the law firm you worked in has multiple floors with a total of seventy-five floors. You remembered you were stunned on your first day, openly gaping at everything around you as you entered, nearly making a fool of yourself by tripping over your feet more than three times in a single day.

You barely recalled nodding your head in acknowledgment at the series of greetings thrown your way from both men and women as they walked past you. You were too caught up in your own mind, many thoughts running through your mind at the speed of light until you sworn you were starting to feel light-headed.

Eventually, you arrived at a particular closed, opaque glass door with matte covering the bottom half and a sign hanging on it. The words stared back at you, like it was mocking you already, as if it knew the reason why you were summoned.

Park Sunghoon's Office.

"It'd be better if it's renamed as Satan's Hellhole instead," you muttered to yourself, wary enough to keep your voice down. You raised your right hand, now curled into a fist and knocked twice on it to announce your arrival.

Knock knock.

Sunghoon's eyes flicked up from his desktop screen, hands going stilled as he was in the middle of typing. One look at you made him nod his head and you entered once you were granted permission, gently closing the door behind him. It's pure instinct for you to clutch your notebook close to your chest in a vice-like grip until the edges crumped up due to your strength, like you want to blend into it, using it as a shield for whatever he had in store for you.

You chewed on your bottom lip, absentmindedly brushing your fingers against the edge of your notebook, unaware of how the man's eyes darkened a shade behind the rimless lenses of his rectangular-shaped glasses that rested perfectly on the bridge of his sharp, elegant nose. Gods, you never expected to see your childhood friend went from a easygoing, scrawny young teenager to… whatever he is now.

That's a man right there, your brain unhelpfully chimed in before adding another sentence, a very fine man, to be exact.

To make yourself feel better, you visualized yourself beating the living lights out of your superior. The very same superior who is seated in front of you, known for being the most cold-hearted, unforgivable and someone who doesn't have any tolerance for anything. When one says anything, they really meant it.

An prime example would be when a poor young woman used to be in your position, only to be fired on her first day when she failed to follow-up with one of Sunghoon's clients. You didn't know much of the details, other than the very obvious fact that he was pissed. One thing about him is that he never raised his voice, which proved to make him all the more intimidating than he already was. He would have lost the trial if he didn't come up with something on the spot but despite his success, he was still enraged and ended up firing the woman.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Ahem.

You snapped back to reality, dryly and loudly swallowing when you noticed Sunghoon had been staring at you the entire time while you were busy imagining punching him, treating him like a punching bag and an outlet to release your pent-up stress and frustrations.

"Are you done daydreaming? If you are, then sit down," he said, voice firm and cold.

Your left eyebrow twitched, resisting the urge to snap, to yell or even better, to throw something at his face as you obliged, sitting on the opposite chair and placed your notebook and hands on your lap, hiding it from his sharp, observant and piercing gaze that never fails to send shivers down your spine.

"Why did you summon me?" You asked, surprisingly able to keep your voice even and steady despite how your fingers were already trembling.

Sunghoon arched his signature thick left eyebrow, like he was impressed by your audacity or stupidity. Or maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it seemed like you had made a wrong approach, with the way he leaned back into his seat, his eyes never leaving your face, catching every micro-expression you made.

"Simple. Because you screwed up."

You flinched—a subtle motion that should go unnoticed by everyone. But not Sunghoon, not when it comes to you. You swallowed, clenching and unclenching your fingers, feeling your palms growing sweaty as every second passed. You didn't say anything and the man pressed on, using his words to push his knife deeper into your chest.

"Judging from the look on your face, you're clueless, aren't you? Fine, let me indulge you."

He paused, reaching for a file situated on the left corner of his desk. He flipped it opened with practiced ease before sliding it towards you. You leaned forward a little to get a clearer look, immediately finding the paragraphs familiar to you.

"Page twelve," he said.

Your hands moved before you knew it, your fingers brushing against the folder as you pulled it closer to you. You scanned the page, eyes darting over lines of text until they stopped. Your stomach dropped, feeling a pail of cold, freezing water being dumped over you from above.

"The clause is outdated. It contradicts the revised terms submitted last week. Terms you copied, if I recall correctly," he went on, observing you closely, like you're his prey that was hopelessly cornered with nowhere to run.

Your lips parted but you couldn't find your voice.

"I—" You startled, faltering for a split second before you forced yourself to speak. "I must've overlooked—"

"You must've?" He echoed, voice and eyes hardening and yet, that same infuriating calmness of his never left his face. "You must've overlooked a critical amendment in a case file I asked you to review?"

You tightened your grip on the paper, teeth grinding down on one another.

"It was a minor section," you protested, despite how you knew he was right. He always was. "The overall argument still stands and make sense. It's not enough to—"

"Not enough?" He cuts you off for the second time, voice cold and firm, just enough to make you and your words feel insignificant. "Are you even hearing yourself?"

Silence.

Sunghoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locked onto yours with terrifying, chilling precision.

"In this firm, there's no such thing as minor. All it takes to dismantle an entire case is one oversight. One mistake is enough to question credibility. Or, do you think you're an exception?"

You narrowed your eyes, borderline scrunching the piece of paper in your hands. Sunghoon's eyes flicked down to the paper before meeting you again, his expression unreadable as always.

"I don't. But it's not like I intentionally—"

"That doesn't matter," he interrupted.

As the saying goes, three times the charm. That was the third time he had cut you off and that too, was the final straw.

"I'm still new. Mistakes happen. It's not unreasonable to expect—"

"What? To be excused?" He smoothly finished for you.

You paused, unable to further defend yourself. Because that wasn't what you meant but in the end, it was exactly how it sounds like. Whether you liked it or not. Sunghoon lets his words lingered in the air, giving you both the chance and room to speak, to say something better, to fix the damage.

But you didn't. Or maybe, you simply couldn't.

"…No, but I can fix it," you finally said, in a quieter voice but there was still a hint of defiance.

Something flickered in his expression but it was gone when he blinked. Sunghoon eyed you before leaning back into his chair, removing his elbows from the desk in the process.

"You will. You'll revise the entire section, cross-check every document and have it back on my desk before the end of the day."

Your eyes widened. "That's—"

"(Name)."

The way he said your name, like it's a threat, a warning along with the utter firmness in his voice was enough to silence you. You clamped your lips shut, knowing there was no way for you to make him change his mind. You nodded, shoulders slumping and Sunghoon nodded, raising his hand to push his glasses up his nose.

"Good, you're dismissed. If I don't see it on my desk, you're fired," he finished, no longer giving you his attention as he returned to looking at his desktop.

You gritted your teeth, shooting up from your seat as you stomped out of his office. Manners and respect be dammed at this point. You needed to get out of there or you would've lost your temper, which could potentially cost you your job and the amount of blood, sweat and tears you've used to get to where you are today.

Baam!

You slammed his door shut with a loud, heavy force on the way out, not caring that it came off as rude or how you were gathering stares following you as you returned to your desk. You threw your notebook, pen and the folder onto the desk, not caring that the pen rolled off, falling onto the floor with a series of clattering sounds.

"Fuck," you cursed at the all-too familiar feeling of something warm and damp stinging your eyes, blurring your vision. The last thing you wanted was to have a breakdown at your desk, where anyone can walked in on you resisting the urge to cry right there and then.

You were so deep in your own thoughts that you didn't sense Heeseung's presence, who wheeled himself to your side, eyebrows furrowed with concern written all over his face.

"Hey, what happened?" He asked softly, reaching out to rest a hand on your left shoulder, watching as you shrink, avoiding looking at him.

You shook your head, teeth sinking into the meat of your bottom lip. "..Nothing, it's fine," you croaked out, your voice slightly hoarse and scratchy as you sniffled.

Your friend sighed, having known you long enough to be able to tell whether you're lying or not. "What did he say this time?"

You choked out a watery and broken laugh despite yourself, raising a hand to rub at your eyes, ignoring how you'd come to regret your decision later. "What did he not say this time? It's a miracle he didn't tell me off in front of everyone."

Heeseung frowned, lips pursed in a thin line. "(Name), maybe you should tell the management."

"And what? What do I tell them?" You retorted. "Tell them that oh hi, I want to make a report that working under Park Sunghoon, who was my childhood friend, is giving me lots of stress and because of him, I'm unable to perform well."

"Yes, but—"

"No, Heeseung. You don't get it, it's not as easy as you think. What do you think will happen after I tell them? You and I both know the management isn't gonna do shit. To them, Park Sunghoon is this fucking god and life savior for saving the firm when it was on the verges of collapsing," you continued, cutting him off.

The man stayed silent, mostly because of two things. Firstly, you are right and secondly, there wasn't much he can say to convince you. Not when you had made up your mind. But that doesn't mean he's not allowed to speak freely.

"Then just tell me this and I want you to answer me honestly: do you still like him?"

Silence.

"I don't," you started, the words coming out too quickly and too obvious. "I mean—why would I? After everything he did, after the way he—"

Your voice faltered. The knowing, pitiful look Heeseung gave only made you felt even worse. Because deep down, the both of you knew you were lying and you weren't telling the truth. A bitter, humorless laugh slipped from your lips, running a hand through your hair with your eyes turning glossy under the overhead lights.

"I hate him," you confessed, your gaze dropping to the floor or your shoes. "I hate the way he acts like I'm nothing. Like we're nothing. I hate how he left without a word, like I wasn't even worth a goodbye."

Your chest tightened, something sharp stabbing right through your heart, feeling the heavy weight settling on your shoulders the more you spoke.

"But most importantly, I hate how he looks at me now… like I'm just another person in the firm."

You paused for a few seconds, plucking up the remains of your non-existent courage, despite the fact both Heeseung and you already knew what you were planning to say. What kind of words that was ready to leave the tip of your tongue.

"But despite all of that, I still love him. I really do."

You let out a shaky exhale, shaking your head like you're able to deny it. If only it was that easy.

"I don't know why. It's been years. He's not the same person anymore. Anyone with eyes can see that. He's… not the Sunghoon I knew and maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm the problem, for wanting the old him to come back to me. And a part of me is still stuck in the past, still loving someone who doesn't exist anymore."

A pause.

Heeseung sighed, the sound itself speaks volume, speaking more than what his words could possibly carry.

"He doesn't deserve you, you know that? You're too good for him."

You weakly nodded, eyes getting unfocused. "I know, but I can't stop thinking about him."

◟‿୨୧‿◞

You chose to skip lunch—much to your two friends' disappointment as they wished you luck to which you waved it off but was internally grateful and spent the rest of the day slaving away on just one document. The one document that cost you your sanity and draining lifespan.

You pulled out the long list of references you used beforehand, cross-checking all of it more than three times. It's a miracle your eyes didn't get stuck in one place with how often you kept looking between two different pieces of papers. You type, delete, type and only for you to delete again. This cycle kept repeating itself as the hours dragged on.

You weren't even aware of your surroundings—of how more and more people were packing up as they get ready to leave, of how the lights of their desks were turned off, leaving yours still on and how the silence was getting louder and louder until it's loud enough to drown out your thoughts. You found yourself entering the zone, now able to rework on it with full confidence—a huge contrast to how you were a few hours ago.

When you were finally done, you leaned back into your chair and stretched your arms above your head, letting out a long, heavy groan as you cracked your fingers. The sound echoed loudly in the office and it was only when you bothered to check the time, was when you realized you had worked overtime.

Again. Not like it's anything new or shocking, considering the nature of your job.

You got up, groaning at your back pain—a sign of your old age, even though you're still in your twenties. Swiping the folder off your messy, clustered desk, you wasted no time in making a beeline to Sunghoon's office. With how late it was, you were the final person to leave.

At least, that's what you thought.

You came to a stop when you noticed the lights in his office was still on from a far. At first, you assumed he must have forgotten to turn it off in his haste of leaving but it was gone when you now stood before his door. You didn't knock and he didn't see you yet, giving you a chance to see (or admire, like the closeted freak you are.) him in his current state.

His tie and blazer was gone with the top two black buttons of his now wrinkled white dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his pale skin. You briefly remembered how there were baseless rumors when he first joined, with people wondering if he was a vampire in disguise, due to how pale he was. Sunghoon rested his chin on the palm of his left hand, his long and slender fingers curled over his mouth as he absentmindedly tapped his nose.

Whatever he was looking at has him deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes slightly narrowed with him reading whatever was reflected on the screen. His usual neat and tidy hair was slightly messed up, with random strands poking out in different directions. Some even fell forward, hanging over his eyes, acting like a shield.

The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a delicious pair of arms that can make anyone drooled like a nasty dog. You swallowed, ripping your eyes away and looked up, nearly flinching on the spot when you made direct eye contact with him. For a moment, none of you looked away, seemingly entering a staring contest with you standing outside of his office and him seated by his desk.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow and you took that as your cue to enter, pushing the door open while clutching the folder in your left hand. You stepped in, your footsteps muffled against the carpeted floor and you stopped before his desk. Your superior torn his gaze away from his desktop screen, looking at you with an unreadable, impassive look on his face.

"I assume you've finished it?" He asked, jumping straight to the point without beating around the bush.

You nodded, wordlessly handing the folder over to him. Sunghoon took it from your hand and flipped it open to read. The next few seconds of tense, thick silence felt like eternity. You shuffled your heels on the spot, curling and uncurling your fingers with your hands resting by your sides. You observed him the entire time, trying to read him but it was easier said than done. You had considered yourself as someone good in reading people via their body languages but when it comes to Sunghoon?

You got nothing.

After what felt like centuries when a solid seven minutes passed, he finally spoke up. He held the folder in his right hand, arms crossed across his chest. Every time he shifted or readjusted his position, it caused his muscles to move as well—something you noticed almost immediately, much to your utter frustration.

"This is more acceptable than your previous work," he said, not praising nor insulting you. Just stating a fact, as simple as that.

Normally, you would retort with something snarky of your own but with how late it was, you were too exhausted to argue with him. You simply nodded, turning and was ready to leave when it's clear he wasn't going to say anything else. Only for him to call out your name, stopping you.

"Wait, I'll drive you home."

What?

"…What?" You turned to him, eyes widening and mouth dropping slightly, dumbfounded, like you couldn't believed your own ears.

But Sunghoon was already moving. He shut down his desktop, slipped his glasses off in one fluid motion as he rose to his feet. He swiped his loose tie and blazer off the stand he hung them on, folding them over his left arm and grabbed his bag placed near his chair.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, (Name). It's already late and there isn't anymore buses or trains left. It'd be faster and safer if I just drive you," he pointed out.

You sighed, hating how he was right and obliged. You stepped out of his office, returning to your own desk. You quickly shut down your desktop, shoving your things into your bag and rushed over to regroup with Sunghoon, who was already waiting for one of the lifts to arrive.

There was some distance between you and him—roughly around fifteen centimeters. You busied yourself in checking your phone, catching up on the messages and notifications you didn't managed to read, not when you were busy typing like your life depended on it.

Ding!

The lift in front of you announced its arrival with a soft 'ding!' sound and the doors opened. The two of you entered with Sunghoon pressing on the B2 button before it closed. Faint classical, jazz music started playing, acting as white noise. You had unconsciously moved to stand in the right corner of the small, cramped space, wanting to be as far away as him from possible.

The silence thickened further as the lift came to a stop, doors opening to reveal the car park located at the second basement of the company. You followed Sunghoon as the man walked over to where his car was parked—a sleek, obsidian-black Mercedes Benz S-Class sat under the dim lights. Its polished surface reflects the cold white glow from above.

He unlocked the car with a soft click, walking straight to the driver's seat without sparing you a glance. You hesitated for a second before moving to the passenger side, the door handle cool under your fingertips. The interior was just as pristine as the exterior—black leather, faint traces of a clean, subtle cologne lingering in the air.

All it took was a simple, gentle press of a button for the car to spring to life. The engine purred to life smoothly, barely making a sound as he pulled out of the lot. The city lights and everything else turned into a blur as he drove, slowly stepping down on the gas with the figure gradually increasing until he's driving at ninety kilometers per hour.

Music was playing from the radio as you looked out of the window, not wanting to look him in the eyes. It didn't help that Sunghoon knew your address by heart—something the younger him have very much proudly boasting at the top of his lungs. You dug your short, clean nails into your face, not caring by the fact that you're leaving indents behind.

You should say something. But what can you possibly say in such a tense, awkward situation? There were so many things you wanted to ask but whenever you opened your mouth, it was like your voice chose that moment to give up on you. There were many, many thoughts swirling around in your mind whenever you think back to the past.

How you could have had it all instead of what you're facing now.

Why did you leave without telling me? Am I not worth a text or a simple farewell? Why did you came back as a completely new person? Who are you now? What happened when you moved abroad?

Instead of asking any of those questions—the very same questions that had been lingering in the back of your mind for the past twenty plus years, the only word you managed to utter out was:

"Why?"

Sunghoon didn't react immediately nor did he even spared a glance, like you weren't worth his attention. You furrowed your eyebrows, now turning your head to him. You observed his side profile—his sharp jawline that can make your fingers bleed if you were to trace it, his slightly cracked and dry lips that were pursed in a thin line with his eyes fixated on the highway road ahead of him.

His silence added more fuel to the growing fire residing deep in you and you pushed on, unable to hold it back anymore.

"Why did you leave without telling me?"

A few seconds of silence passed. For a moment, you thought he would ignore you again, how he will pretend he didn't hear you. But you caught the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel. A subtle action that if it was anyone else, they would have missed it.

But not you. You weren't anyone else.

"You're asking questions about something that has already happened," he said in a flat tone, like he was stating a simple, obvious fact.

You stared at him, rendered speechless before huffing out a incredulous laugh. Sunghoon made a turn to his right, exiting the highway as he entered a street you were familiar with—you were reaching home.

"So that's it? You just leave, go off the grid for years and then come back like nothing happened? Is it wrong for me to care about you?"

His jaw muscles twitched faintly and as per always, he remained silent. And gods, his silence is starting to infuriate you further.

"You wouldn't understand," he replied after a beat, now in quieter and more distant tone.

You narrowed your eyes, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and slapped him. "Then tell me! You can't expect me to understand when you refuse to say anything!"

The car came to a stop at a red light, the glow casting faint shadows across his face. And finally, he turned to look at you and you wished he didn't. Because there was nothing there. No warmth, no familiarity and gone was the boy you once knew by heart, soul and mind.

"I don't have to explain everything to you," he said, the words sharp and deliberate. Sharp enough for you to feel like you were slapped in the face, leaving a stinging, lingering pain behind.

You couldn't speak, staring at him. Your throat tightened, stomach curling and twisting into itself as he turned back to the road, stepping down on the gas when the light turned green. It's crystal clear the conversation has came to an end and you decided to drop it, not wanting to waste any more of your drained energy to argue with him.

The moment the car came to a stop outside your house, you were quick to jump out of the passenger side, unable to tolerate breathing in the same air as him. You grabbed your bag, slammed the door shut on purpose and stomped your way to your house with your house keys held in your left hand.

The door closed behind you and you tossed your bag onto the floor, not caring whether the content inside was damaged or not. You lowered yourself until you were in a squatting position, arms resting on your knees as you cried. You wept like a fresh new widow who lost her husband to the war when that was far from the truth.

You wept for someone who doesn't deserve your tears, time and attention. You wept for someone who no chose to move on from the past, facing the future with a brand new mindset. You wept for someone who could care less about you.

And if you spent the rest of the night sobbing your eyes out, then that's only for you to know and a secret to keep.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

"Welcome home, sir. Your brother and parents are waiting for you in the dining room," the head butler informed him, in lieu of a greeting, bowing at a sharp ninety-degrees with his gloved hands placed in front of him.

Sunghoon scowled, not bothering to conceal his dissatisfaction as he handed his blazer and tie to the butler, who promptly took it from his outstretched hand. He never liked coming back to a home occupied by his parents. It was always something to do with their long, rich heritage of the Park family in the business industry and how they are practically the backbone of most of the companies.

The man turned, heading to the flight of stairs that will lead to the second floor, having no intentions of meeting them, only to stop when someone called out his name, making him froze.

"Sunghoon."

Resisting the urge to outwardly roll his eyes, he turned to face his older brother—Park Jongseong. He felt like he got shot right in the chest, something ugly curling itself around his heart at how the other man wasn't alone. There was another woman standing close to him, a woman with a very familiar face and someone who he knew for a while now.

He stiffly nodded his head to the woman, who returned it with a warm, polite smile as she bowed slightly, one hand on her chest.

"Sunghoon, it's been a while. How have you been?" She asked.

He sighed, moving to descend the flight of stairs until he's in front of the couple with some distance between them. Sunghoon's eyes darted down to the matching rings they worn before flicking up, swallowing the bile threatening to rise up his throat. His features softened slightly—a rare side that only a selected percentage of people were able to see.

"I'm fine, just busy with work. You know how it is, Areum," he answered.

Areum nodded, her lips covered in a thin, glowing layer of lipgloss curled up in a faint smile. "I understand. I heard you've successfully closed a difficult case. Well done, as expected of Park Sunghoon."

Normally, if it was anyone else who uttered those words, they would've received a cold, piercing glare from him. But Areum was different. She's like the older sister Sunghoon never knew he needed. Someone reliable, mature and clear-headed. Well, there is his brother but between Jay and Areum, he often gravitated to the woman instead, mostly because she was much easier to talk to, as compared to the other, who never fails to take the chance to tease him endlessly.

He let out a light, soft and genuine chuckle. "Thanks, Areum. But it's not something worthy of praise."

And Jay being Jay, snorted from where he stood. "Damn, just take her compliment, would you? It's weird watching you acting all polite."

"Jay!"

Areum scolded her husband, reaching out to deliver a light but stinging smack to his shoulder, drawing a pained hiss from him. Sunghoon snickered, all smug and since he's younger than Jay, he playfully stuck his tongue out—acting like how they were when they were young. His brother resorted to scowling from where he stood while resisting the tempting urge to throw hands with his younger sibling.

Ahem.

Their brief playful moment was rudely interrupted by someone pointedly clearing their throat. The three turned to see it was none other than their father. The very same man who owns the estate they are currently standing in and the very same man who built an industry from nothing. People couldn't believed when they find out he's already in his early sixties due to his still youthful look. Unlike the usual man who's seen shaking hands with shareholders, wearing a warm and professional smile on his face, the man standing before his two sons is the real him.

His eyes jumped from one face to another before landing on Sunghoon's, who didn't flinch nor did he backed down from the sudden eye contact. Just like the younger man, his father had perfectly aced the art of mastering and concealing his emotions, not allowing anyone else to decipher how he truly feels.

"All of you, stop fooling around. You're not children anymore," he started, his voice deep, low and slightly rough around the edges and his gaze lingered longer than usual on Sunghoon.

Sunghoon sworn he saw something akin to frustration behind those pupils but it was gone when he blinked. Without waiting for their response, their father turned and headed to the dining room. The three of them took that as their cue to follow him, not wanting to further worsen his mood.

But then again, the man was always in a bad mood. Which gets even worse when he's around his family.

They eventually arrived at the dining room, which was just as imposing as the rest of the estate—spacious, pristine and formal. A long, polished rectangular-shaped table stretched across the center, its glossy surface reflecting the warm glow of the lights hanging from above. High-backed chairs were arranged with perfect symmetry, each one as uncomfortable as the other.

Everything was meticulously set. Fine porcelain plates, neatly folded linen napkins and silver cutlery aligned with exact precision—untouched, like it's for display purposes rather than anything else. The air felt still, heavy with an unspoken tension that no amount of luxury could softened.

Their mother sat on one of the chairs, allowing her to face the doorway as they entered, moving to take their respective seats without hesitation. Jay sat with Areum, occupying the two vacant chairs opposite of his mother while Sunghoon sat beside the older woman. The final chair that was placed at the head of the table belonged to none other than his father.

No one spoke a word for a few seconds before his father broke it, directing his focus and attention to Sunghoon.

"Sunghoon, you'll be getting married in four months."

The words landed without warning, like a bomb was dropped on him out of nowhere. There was no greetings or no small talks before they dived into the main dish. Sunghoon didn't react immediately, going as still as a statue. The only form of reaction he exerted was his fingers tightening against the table.

Beside him, his mother remained perfectly composed and unfazed, delicately lifting her glass of white wine, like they were discussing something as minor as the weather itself. His brother and wife, on the other hand, had the same reactions as Sunghoon. The couple shared a bewildered look and Jay shot Sunghoon a worried look, but the younger man didn't see it, staring at a random spot of the table.

His father continued, not caring about the storm of conflict happening in his mind. "The arrangements have been finalized. Her family are major shareholders of the company and it will be beneficial to both parties."

Sunghoon slowly exhaled through his nose, finally lifting his gaze to meet his father's. "I'm not interested."

The temperature in the room dropped, the air thickening further. His father's expression darkened, jaw tightening as he leaned back into his chair.

"You don't get to decide that."

"I'm not agreeing to this," his son replied calmly but firmly.

For a brief moment, something flickered in his father's eyes. It wasn't surprise but rather, it was irritation.

"No, you lost the right to make decisions for yourself the moment you strayed away from your responsibilities."

Sunghoon frowned but remained silent, knowing what his father was referring to.

"And we let it happened. Your mother and I were lenient, even when you've embarrassed this family, even when you refused to take over the company, forcing Jongseong to do it instead while you flew to another country. And all for what? To pursue something as trivial as law itself," the man went on, his voice sharpening the longer he spoke.

"We gave you years to correct. To redeem yourself. But it's clear you mistook that for freedom."

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, clutching onto the utensils so tight until his knuckles turned white. It's a sheer miracle on its own that he didn't snap it into half with how strong his grip was.

"This marriage is the consequence of your actions. You will marry her and you will start acting in the best interest of this family. No more defiance and no more selfish decisions," his father finally ended, each word deliberate and as sharp as a knife.

It's clear the conversation has ended, with the finalized tone his father used—the kind of tone he used when he's standing in front of a board of directors in those meetings he kept attending. Sunghoon lowered his head, his bangs falling forward to shield his eyes as their private bulters and maids started serving them their food.

The previous tense dining room was now filled with the occasional clink-clanking of utensils against porcelain plates and bowls. Everyone ate while chatting among themselves. Everyone but Sunghoon. He has no appetite to eat, not after what he was just told. He hated how his mind constantly drifted back to a certain someone, how every time he looked at her, a part of him was tempted to apologize, to tell her how he felt nothing but utter remorse about everything.

About the way he treated her, brushing her and the rich-filled history they had aside, like it was nothing but mere memories. About how he didn't have a choice in the first place. About how he was forced to do this. It was either flying to another country or risked having his parents controlled his life, leaving him under the mercy of them.

And most importantly, about how he was scared to ruin everything if he were to confess the feelings he had been harboring for a long, long time.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

The weekend passed in a blink of an eye, much to every working adult's disappointment and it was Monday again. You paid your surroundings no mind, holding a cup of warm coffee you ordered from the cafe located opposite of the law firm as you entered the lift, getting squeezed to a corner with more and more people entering. You managed to alight at your designated floor but you barely managed to take more than ten steps before someone threw themself onto you.

"What the-!?" You exclaimed, nearly dropping your precious cup of coffee as you staggered, managing to catch your balance.

"(Name), you need to see this!"

Beomgyu said, ignoring the annoyed glare you threw his way. Before you could say anything, he had dragged you to his desk and Heeseung was already there, scrolling through his phone while eating his breakfast.

"What's up with him?" You asked, pointing at your other friend, who threw himself into his seat, opening the Internet browser and started typing something at rapid speed.

"I don't know, he texted me at six in the morning, telling me how I needs to see this as soon as possible. Dude didn't even bother answering my other questions," Heeseung replied after swallowing his mouthful of food.

You chuckled and took a slow sip of your hot coffee. Beomgyu took that moment to finally show you and Heeseung what was reflected on the screen. You moved closer, reading it over his shoulder. What you you didn't expect was to read the bold and large headline reflected on his desktop's screen, staring back at you, mocking and laughing at you.

The color drained from your face. You tuned out your surroundings until they were reduced to nothing but white noise—the murmurs of the people around you, the sound of footsteps back and forth, the sound of fingers flying across keyboards and the rustling of papers. The cup of coffee slipped from your loose grip, landing on the floor with a loud noise and the fragrant, brown liquid splattered everywhere.

Thankfully, your clothes were out of harm's way but the same couldn't be applied to your heels as some had landed on it. You hissed in pain when the hot liquid landed on your bare skin. Your friends were quick to jump into action. Beomgyu was quick to swipe the tissue box off his desk and handed it to you. You grabbed a few pieces, lifting your right leg to clean the coffee stains, watching as the pristine white tissues turned brown as it soaked up the liquid.

You did the same with your other leg while Heeseung picked up your now empty cup, disappearing to the pantry to toss it away before returning shortly with a mop and bucket that he had filled up with water. You were about to take the mop from him but the man shook his head.

"It's fine, I can do it," he waved you off before you could say a word.

Beomgyu rose to his feet, flashing you an apologetic look. "Shit, I'm sorry, (Name). Maybe I shouldn't have showed it to you."

You shook your head, flashing what you hoped was an reassuring smile to your friend. "You don't have to apologize, Gyu. I'll find out about it sooner or later so thanks for the heads-up."

The two men shared a quick glance. Beomgyu was about to say something when an unfamiliar, polite and unsure voice spoke up, gaining everyone's attention.

"Uh, hello? I'm looking for Park Sunghoon."

Who is she and why is she looking for him?

When you saw her, the first impression that came to your mind was how out of place she looked. Not in a bad way that makes her stood out like a sore thumb. It's different from the usual sharp, intimidating presence that fills the firm. There was a softness to her, something almost hesitant in the way she portrayed herself.

Her hair fell neatly past her shoulders in loose waves, a natural shade that framed her delicate features. Her eyes were sharp but right now, they were wide with uncertain and confusion, obviously lost while trying to locate her designated destination. She worn a cream-colored blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt that fell just below her knees. The outfit was paired with modest heels, simple and refined.

But most importantly, it whispered quiet wealth rather than loudly announcing it to the world.

Before you could say anything or react, one of your colleagues had approached her. He was kind enough to show her the way, bringing her over to your superior's office. Your eyes tracked her movement until she was out of your sight, unaware of how you had even stopped breathing until Heeseung tapped your shoulder, a worried look on his face.

"You good?" He asked.

"Fine," you answered almost immediately, feeling your world tilting as you returned to your desk in a daze, ignoring how Heeseung called out your name.

You sat down, staring at your desktop and before you knew it, your limbs moved before your mind could processed it. You opened a tab on your Internet browser, typing something and tapped the enter button on your keyboard. You clicked on the first link you see, bringing you to an article—the very same article that Beomgyu showed earlier on.

The headline remained the same. The longer you stared at it, the more tempted you were to grab the nearest thing and throw it at the screen, as if that can magically wiped the article away from the Internet.

'Legal Prodigy Park Sunghoon Announces Engagement to Han Seo-yeon, Heiress to Major Shareholder Family—A Strategic Union That Shakes the Industry.'

You've never felt this much pain in your life where every time you inhaled, a part of your heart shattered. Where every time you think about him, tears welled up in your eyes and you have to swallow it down, the motion itself stiff, awkward and painful.

It's times like this where you get reminded that you may still be stuck in the past, replaying the memories over and over, like a broken cycle. But for Sunghoon, on the other hand, he had moved on, choosing to focus on the present and the future. Even if that meant getting engaged to a stranger with no intentions of telling you.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

Knock knock.

"Who is it?" Sunghoon asked, not lifting his gaze to the door as he continued reading the document laid out before him—the very same document that you had gave it to him last Friday.

"A woman is here to look for you, sir. She said she's Seoyeon," his personal assistant informed him through the internal lines.

He paused when he heard her name. "Let her in."

"As you wish, sir."

Shortly after, the woman—Soyeon entered with a warm, friendly smile on her face. Sunghoon sighed, leaning back into his seat as she stood on opposite of him, with his desk acting as a barrier between them.

"What are you doing here? I thought we agreed for no public appearances unless it's necessary," he asked in a deflated tone.

The woman lightheartedly rolled her eyes as she sat down, elegantly crossing one leg over the other while placing her bag on her lap. "I know, but your father was very persistent in forcing me to make a surprise visit to your office. So, here I am."

He scoffed at the mention of his father, tapping his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. "Did you see the article?"

Soyeon nodded, pursing her lips covered in a shiny layer of lip-gloss, in a thin line. "Yeah, my parents must've been the ones to tell the press so they can release it without telling either of us. I'm sorry about that."

Sunghoon ran a hand through his fluffy, black hair as he let out a long, heavy sigh. Faint exhaustion can be seen in his eyes and across his face.

"It's not like they're willing to inform us beforehand."

The woman eyed him with an unreadable look before asking a question that made his blood ran cold. "I saw her just now. She's very pretty."

The man froze for a second, clearing his throat in an attempt to look composed. "Who are you talking about?"

She lets out a light laugh. "You know who, Sunghoon. I'm talking about (Name). I saw her earlier and it's not hard to notice her. She has that charm that draws you to her without you knowing. I think she saw the article too, judging from the horrified look on her face when she saw me."

Sunghoon tongued the inside of his left cheek and his jaw tightened. "Why are you telling me this?"

Soyeon sighed, her tone switching to a rather motherly tone, like he's her son who's still learning about the world. "Because it's obvious you like her. Anyone with eyes can see that."

He flinched, very much like a cat that got splashed with cold, freezing water. "You're imagining things."

"Right, and I'm the president of Seoul," she dryly retorted.

For the rare, few times in his life, the legal associate didn't know how to react nor what to say. He resorted to narrowing his eyes, scowling and sulking like a child. Soyeon chuckled and rose from her seat, now holding her bag in her right hand.

"Anyway, would you like to join me for lunch?" She proposed, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I suppose, as long as it's not French cuisine again," he joked, rising to his full height while removing the glasses he worn, leaving it on the table as he grabbed his keys, phone and wallet from where the drawer underneath it.

Soyeon scoffed but the glimmer of amusement in her eyes said otherwise. "It's not my fault you're a man with no taste."

Sunghoon shot her an incredulous look, moving to open the door for her, allowing her to step out before he followed suit. "No taste? I'd like you to know I've dined in more than ten Michelin-Stars rated restaurants."

"Oh, is that so? Forgive me, my lord, for I must've struck a nerve," she sarcastically replied and Sunghoon chuckled.

Remembering something, Soyeon quickly slipped her hand into Sunghoon's right hand to intertwine their fingers together. The sudden contact and action made him glance at her from the corners of his eyes.

She flashed him a sympathetic, apologetic smile. "We're in public, so we have to sell it."

Something unreadable flickered across his face but it was gone when he blinked. He didn't like this—the arranged marriage they were put up with, how he's practically a pawn in whatever game both families are playing, being used like a tool. The two walked to the lift lobby together, hand in hand and his eyes automatically moved across the sea of people, searching for someone.

And he locked eyes with you.

You were at your desk, fingers poised over your keyboard while you were working on something that probably needs his attention whenever you're done. What made his heart tightened was how your eyes widened momentarily before returning to its usual size, how your eyes darted between his and Soyeon's face. He can practically imagined the loading logo floating on top of your head as you eventually connect the dots.

You were the first to break eye contact, snapping your head back to look at your screen, like you couldn't handle looking at him. Sunghoon dryly swallowed, allowing himself to be dragged by Soyeon as they entered the elevator that arrived at their floor.

If he has the ability to turn back time, he'd do it without hesitation. He'd do it to apologize, to amend the soon-to-be broken bridge between the two of you. And most importantly, to not be the reason for the amount of tears you've shed, especially when it's all because of him.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

"…llo? Earth to lover girl? Anyone home?"

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "What?"

Beomgyu sighed, waving his chopsticks around in a circular motion, speaking after he swallowed his mouthful of food.

"You weren't listening, were you? Lemme guess, you were too busy thinking about that uptight superior of yours. Seriously, I don't get what you see in him. Sure, he's handsome but compare to this," he paused to gesture at his own face with a cocky, arrogant grin that made you and Heeseung rolled your eyes, "that's nothing."

Beside him was Heeseung, who rubbed the space between his eyes as he muttered a string of words under his breath, no doubt saying his prayers. The three of you were currently having lunch at a famous ramen restaurant near your firm. You wanted to turn down the offer at first but your friends were persistent.

They (more like Beomgyu) kept begging and begging until you gave in, having to shush them (Beomgyu) when they let out a triumphant shriek, which brought you to your current situation. You let out a sigh, stirring the noodles in your bowl. You didn't have an appetite and every time your mind went back to seeing the woman and Sunghoon, you felt the urge to vomit right there and then.

Heat crept up the back of your neck with your ears turning red and warm.

"I wasn't thinking about him," you weakly defended yourself but the looks both men sent you said otherwise.

"Right, and I'm the future president. You looked like you were about to faint when you saw her," Beomgyu (un)helpfully pointed out, letting out a pained yelp when Heeseung roughly elbowed him from the side, nearly sending him toppling out of his seat.

You placed your chopsticks down after forcing yourself to take another bite, swallowing it before answering him.

"What am I supposed to think? I didn't expect he'd do this," you confessed, like you were admitting to a sin you committed.

Beomgyu shared a quick glance with Heeseung before speaking up. Unlike before, his voice no longer carries the casual joking and teasing tone. But rather, he sounds serious—an rare occurence that he only used when the time and situation called for it.

"(Name), I'm telling you this as a friend who's been with you for three years: you need to move on."

You visibly flinched, feeling like you were slapped right on your right cheek and getting an arrow directly shot into your chest. You looked down, staring at a random spot of the table as you avoided eye contact. Someone sighed—Heeseung. He reached out, placed his hand above yours and gave it a light, assuring squeeze. You lifted your head up at the action, meeting his doe-like eyes.

"Beomgyu's right. We've seen the effect Sunghoon has on you and we say this out of the goodness of our hearts, if you continue to live like this—choosing to stay in the past, trying to convince yourself or trying to defend him, then it'd only do you more harm than good," he explained in a soft tone, the kind of tone specially reserved when he's oh so gently giving advice to his colleagues.

"I—I wasn't defending him. I'm fine, I really am," you instinctively replied, trying to defend yourself.

The lie sounds hollow even to your own ears. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact as he tightened his grip on your hand.

"No, you're not."

Even though he's being gentle, it doesn't soften the blow at all. You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling a flicker of frustration breaking through your facade.

"You don't get to decide that for me."

"I'm not. I'm telling you what I see."

You stubbornly shook your head, withdrawing your hand, the contact feeling too much with his heat lingering behind. "Both of you are overthinking. He's my boss now. Of course things are gonna feel and be weird. That's all there is to it."

"You know that's not the truth," Beomgyu cut in, his tone still serious and unwavering from Heeseung's left side.

You made a frustrated sound, head snapping to him. "Alright, why are both of you acting like I'm some kind of mess? I'm doing my job just fine, aren't I?"

"That's not the point," Heeseung softly pointed out but there was something else behind it. Something heavier and something you didn't want to acknowledge.

"You can function. You show up, do your work, act like everything's normal," he paused for a second before he continued and honestly, what he said next made you felt like you were punched right in the stomach, "but the moment his name comes up, you fall apart."

You parted your lips, opening and closing but you couldn't say a thing. Not when he's right. Not when he's speaking the truth. Not when he has caught you red-handed.

Heeseung pressed on at your silence. "I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm saying this because I'm tired of watching you hurt yourself over someone who clearly doesn't care the way you do anymore."

"That's not—"

"Then what is it? Because from where we're standing, it looks like you're still holding onto someone who already let you go," he directly asked, not beating around the bush.

Your chest tightened, something twisting into itself painfully as you dropped your gaze to the table, defeated without knowing what else you can possibly say in a situation like this.

"I just…" You trailed off. "It's not that easy, alright? I'm trying. I really am."

"Nothing about love is ever easy," Beomgyu said, his voice softening now, nearly matching Heeseung's.

"We're not asking you to forget and get over him overnight. But you have to try. Really try. You have to stop giving him so much power over you," he continued and what he said next made your breath caught.

"You deserve someone better than him."

Your throat tightened, vision turning blurry around the corners. You rapidly blinked your eyes, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to burst out into tears, at a restaurant during lunchbreak with your friends sitting opposite of you. As much as you wanted to argue and to defend him, another part of you had finally gotten the closure you needed.

That they were right and maybe, just maybe, it is finally time for you to face the future with a brighter and clearer mind.

When lunch was over with you managing to finish your bowl of noodles, leaving the restaurant feeling lighter with your friends walking on both sides of you. Thankfully, no one bat an eye to your red, swollen and puffy eyes as you shrink into yourself, not wanting to gather any unwanted and unnecessary attention.

You returned to the firm, heading to your desk to grab a small pouch that holds your makeup and other necessities as you headed to the ladies to freshen up. What you didn't expect was for you to bump into someone that made you came to an abrupt halt, standing at the doorway. The woman stood before one of the mirrors, fixing her appearance when her eyes drifted to you, making eye contact via the mirror's surface.

"You must be (Name)," the woman said, her voice gentle and warm, eyes glimmering with something unreadable as she screwed the lid of her lipstick back on with an audible 'click' sound that echoed throughout the space.

You slowly nodded your head. "..Yeah, and you're Soyeon."

Sunghoon's fiance.

She—Soyeon, made a sound of acknowledgment, turning around on the spot to face you. She crossed her arms, the nail polish on her nails seem to glow under the lights from above. You caught the way she scanned you from head toe, like she's searching for something. Maybe it's your weakness. Maybe it's the way you're dressed or how you carried yourself.

Whatever it was, she seemed pleased and satisfied, like she had found something she was looking for.

"Yes I am. I've heard a lot about you and it's a great pleasure to finally meet you," she said, pushing herself off the counter she was leaning on, approaching you with her right hand stretched out.

You accepted the unspoken offer of a handshake, out of politeness and nothing else. You pointedly ignored how you were able to feel the smooth, cool surface of the ring pressed against your fingers during the brief handshake, being the first to drop your hand while clutching onto your pouch, like it has some sort of ability to defend you from her.

"Only good things I hope," you replied, the words all awkward and stiff, like you've forgotten how to speak.

The other woman chuckled, cocking her head to the side. The movement caused her earrings to sway side to side. "Of course, Sunghoon couldn't stop talking about you."

That sentence caught you off-guard. You owlishly blinked your eyes, looking at her like she had spoken in a different language or she had grown another head.

"S-Sunghoon talks about me?" You squeaked out, your voice unnaturally rising an octave, your ears and cheeks turning red, feeling unusually warm.

This time, she couldn't hold back her laughter. She bent forward, hands clutching her sides as she laughed—the sound was light, airy, full of joy and whimsical at its finest. You could only stare at her, not quite believing the woman standing right before you is the very same woman who's the daughter of a famous couple—couple who are none other than the law firm's key shareholders.

Eventually, Soyeon calmed down, straightening herself as she wiped the tears away from her eyes.

"Whew, you should've seen the look on your face. That was funny, but yes. Believe it or not, he does talk about you. Although, talking would be an understatement," she said, something mischievous glinted in her eyes.

You were confused, wanting to ask her what she meant by that but the sound of approaching footsteps and hushed voices caught your attention. Hearing this, Soyeon steeled herself and flashed you a warm, friendly smile.

"I'll see you around, (Name). And trust me when I say this: you should talk to him."

And just like that, she walked out without waiting for your response, leaving you standing there, mind reeling from the conversation you just had. The only things you gained from her was more confusion and of course, more questions than before.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

Days stretched to weeks with everyone being busy and swamped away by their never-ending workload. It's one of the peak periods, which meant more time spent slaving away at their respective desks, more time staring at screens until a migraine starts forming. For a certain legal associate who goes by the name of Park Sunghoon, that meant dealing with more cases, ranging from solving easy, simple cases to encountering the most mind-blowing and baffling cases he had seen in his entire life.

Being a legal associate is hard work and it's also a position Sunghoon took pride in. However, the same couldn't be applied to his family. Or more specifically, his parents. He remembered the day it happened—the very same day where he made up his mind to toss everything aside. His family's reputation, his time spent studying something he clearly has no interest in and the amount of money poured into him, shaping him to be the next successor of the company.

The whole thing happened when Sunghoon was nineteen. Not too young to be considered a child but not too old to be considered a fully-grown, mature adult yet. The thought had been lingering in the back of his mind for a few days now. He hasn't told anyone yet, not even his own flesh and blood. He didn't know when was the appropriate time for him to tell his parents.

What he does know however, is they will definitely be against it. Against his sudden, abrupt decision. He can already foresee it in his mind—their stupefied expressions followed by a mixture of feelings—betrayal, horror and disbelief. Betrayal at the fact that he dared to turn his back against his family. Horror at the bold, unexpected move he pulled. Disbelief as they couldn't fathomed the thought of their very own son, daring to go against the long history of a Park refusing to take over the family's business.

Sunghoon had long packed his things, putting his clothes, things and everything else into his luggage and carry-on. He had booked the tickets behind his parents back, using his own money and will be flying off tomorrow, first thing in the morning. The boy stood at the foot of his bed, staring at his opened luggage with an unreadable look on his face. All that left was to tell his parents and—

"Sunghoon? What are you doing?"

His shoulders tensed at the sound of his older brother's voice. He looked over his shoulder, noting the bewildered look on his face, his wide eyes rapidly darting between the opened luggage and Sunghoon. He caught the moment Jay connected the dots, eyes widening further with his lips parting.

Jay closed the distance in no more than five large strides, invading his brother's invisible personal space. He gripped onto the front of Sunghoon's shirt in a vice-like grip, wrinkling the fabric in the process.

"Can you oh so kindly tell me why there's a luggage on your floor and why does it look like you're about to do something reckless?" Jay demanded, his voice low and serious with him barely able to hold himself back from doing something reckless.

Sunghoon remained silent, eyes averted to the side, having no intention of wanting to face his brother. Jay clenched his jaw at the other's prolonged silence, further brunching his shirt between his fingers.

"Park Sunghoon, you better give me a damn good reason why you're doing this or I'm punching you in the face," he warned him.

Sunghoon sighed, reluctantly turning to face Jay. "I'm flying to Australia tomorrow morning, to study law."

Silence.

Jay stared at him, blinking his eyes once. Twice and thrice before his words fully sank in. The grip on his shirt loosened, his hands dropping and returned to his sides.

"..You're leaving? Is it forever?" He asked.

Sunghoon shook his head. "No, it's just for five years and I'll come back once I graduated. I've already booked the flight tickets and managed to get a dorm to stay on campus. Don't worry about me, Jay-ah."

Jay barked out a loud, incredulous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Don't worry about you? How can you expect me to stay calm when you didn't tell me until now? Why didn't you say a thing? I'm your older brother!"

Sunghoon scoffed and crossed his arms defensively. "And what about it? Not once have you stood up for me when Father kept forcing me to learn about business. You knew I have no interest in it! You knew my heart was never there in the first place!"

Every sentence he spoke, his voice grew louder and louder until he was hollering at the top of his lungs. It's clear as day that he had been harboring these feelings for a long, long time—how he truly felt as the second son of the esteemed Park Family. Jay, on the other hand, stood rooted to the ground, speechless and startled by his outburst. Sunghoon took his silence as the green light to keep going, the lid long removed.

"Every time we bumped into each other in college, you pretend to not see me. It's like I'm some sort of embarrassment to you! What's so embarrassing about wanting something different from someone else? Whenever Father kept pressuring me, telling me that I need to study hard to be as smart as you, I wanted to tell him, to hell with your stupid company! You only cared about your own futures while forcing your son to work away, like he's a tool."

Jay's eyes widened. This is his first time witnessing Sunghoon's pure, raw and unfiltered fury. "Sunghoon, I—"

"No, you listen to me, hyung. I've tolerated him for eight years. Eight. Years. Eight years of listening to that man forcing me to do this and that, without caring what I truly wanted. Eight years of having to obey his words. It's either that or get disowned from the family."

He paused, letting out a humorless and shaky laugh. It's the kind of laughter that one does when they have lost all forms of hope and when they were being forced into a corner.

"So I decided to leave. I don't care if they are against it. I don't fucking care if they want to disown me. Let them do what they want. Nothing they say or do will stop me from pursuing my dreams," he ended his speech, voice firm and filled with firmness. The firmness of someone who had clearly made up his mind.

Silence.

Jay lets out a long, heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped in defeat with resignation written all over his face.

"…You're right, I've been a horrible brother to you. I wasn't there when you needed me, too caught up in my own world. I should've stepped in the moment I saw Father's persistent attempts to mold you into the son he wants. The type of leader he wants. But Sunghoon, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

The second son frowned, confused. "About what?"

Jay's features softened, stepping closer to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. He rested his chin on Sunghoon's right shoulder with his arms tightly wrapped around the other boy's figure.

"For having the courage to throw everything aside and to chase after your dreams. I'm sure you'd succeed and just know that I'll always be proud to call you my brother."

To put it shortly, their parents didn't take his decision well to heart—which wasn't surprising in the slightest. The two of them—Sunghoon and his father, argued like their lives depended on it. Hurtful words and creative insults were thrown at one another without hesitation. His father had the last word. What he said made the younger boy nearly see red.

"Fine. You can go but I want you to remember this for the rest of your life—whatever you do next is not your own decision. It will be decided by me and you have no say in this."

It took all of Sunghoon's self-restraint to hold himself back from saying things he couldn't take back, simply turning to stomp out of the room, slamming the door shut on his way out. He didn't sleep that night, spending the rest of the hours tossing and turning while angrily shedding tears, staining his pillow.

Since his flight bounded to Australia is at seven in the morning, he needs to be at the airport by five latest. He left at three thirty, not wanting to spend another second or minute being under the same roof as his father. The entire house was fast asleep—the way he wanted it to be when he leaves for his flight.

He managed to book an Uber and left for the airport with his house getting smaller and smaller until it was out of his sight. And from that day onward, Sunghoon's Father never viewed him with pride anymore. But rather, it was with disappointment and frustration.

"Huh, never thought I'd see you here."

Sunghoon snapped back to reality, pulled away from his train of thoughts when a familiar voice spoke to him. He straightened himself, looked over his shoulder to see someone standing behind him. Someone who he never thought he'd see again. Not when their last interaction was in Australia.

"Jake? What are you doing here?" He breathed out, confused to see his friend standing right before him in the flesh.

The two were assigned as roommates during their five years spent at law school. They clicked immediately. They are the same age, have lots of common interests and it was also thanks to Jake's help that Sunghoon was able to read, write and speak English fluently. Living in a country that's English-only does that to a foreigner. They also made jokes about how they were fated and meant to be, due to how close they grew.

"I'm on vacation and decided to fly to Seoul. Didn't expect to bump into you though."

Jake smiled, his face brightening up along with as he plopped down into the high stool on Sunghoon's right, turning it to face him with one elbow resting on the countertop. The two men are in a bar. There was a live performance happening right now, with a live band playing—the jazz music they were playing does more than enough to set the mood.

The sounds of people chatting with one another, with the occasional glasses clinking and the sound of cutlery scrapping against the plates echoed in the air, making the bar sounds lively. Sunghoon is a frequent customer of this specific bar, to the point where the staff recognized him and already knew what his orders is with one look at his face.

It was close to nine when he entered the bar, mind lagging with his body starting to shut down after working overtime by spending hours reviewing documents followed by him preparing for a trial tomorrow. A trial for a very serious case, to be exact. Sunghoon sighed and Jake heard it, despite how their surroundings were loud.

"What's wrong man? You looked like you got dumped. I saw the news too," he said, pausing to wave the bartender over, placing his order in fluent Korean with a hint of Australian accent before continuing his sentence, "I didn't take you as the type to move on that quickly."

"It's not real," Sunghoon replied without missing a beat, staring at a random spot of the bar counter. He further elaborated when he felt Jake's inquistive gaze.

"What's not real? The marriage?"

He nods his head.

Jake remained silent as the bartender slide him his order, taking a sip from it before placing it back down on.

"What really happened, Sunghoon-ah? You know you can tell me anything," he asked in a softer tone, like he's talking to a stray, frightened cat he stumbled upon on the streets.

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He absentmindedly caressed the sides of his shotglass.

"I didn't want to be like them, working in the business world and taking over my family's company. That's not what I want but my father refused to see it from my shoes. He didn't want my brother to take over, even though he has passion and interest in it. I, on the other hand, preferred to live in the world of law. I ended up going behind my parents' back, booking plane tickets and enrolling into a law school to fulfill my dreams of becoming a lawyer."

He paused, taking another swing of his alcohol, able to sense his friend's unwavering eyes on him the entire time. Sunghoon placed the now empty glass down, waving one of the staff over to refill it again. Jake noticed this, furrowing his eyebrows with faint disapproval written all over his face but he made no move to stop him. Not when it's clear the younger man needed this.

Once his shotglass was full, he wasted no time in downing it in one go for the second time, barely blinking against the strong taste of liquor going down his throat.

"I didn't tell anyone about my choice. Jay found out by accident and we argued. But he knew no matter what he says, he couldn't convinced me to rethink my decision. I ended up telling my parents and obviously it didn't went well. He ended up letting me go, as the tickets were booked. And then…"

His voice trailed off, starting to zone out with brief memories of the fateful dinner playing in his mind. Jake reached out, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. The mere contact was enough to snap him out of his trance and he continued, shooting Jake a grateful look.

"And then, my father told me he had set me up for an arranged marriage. Her parents are major shareholders to the company, so the marriage will be helpful to everyone. Everyone except me," he sneered, the final word dripping with disdain that he didn't bother concealing.

Jake clicked his tongue. "Damn, that sucks. Thank god I'm not born into some uptight families." He paused when something hit him and his eyes widened slightly.

"Wait, if you're getting married soon, then what about her?" He questioned and Sunghoon knew who he's referring to, even without saying her name.

"There's nothing I can do anymore. She's just my trainee solicitor. Nothing more and nothing less," he retorted, words borderline slurring with his shotglass being refilled for the third time, to which he gulped it down without second thoughts.

"Yikes, that's harsh but is that what you want? To remain as her superior?" Jake pushed further.

Sunghoon side eyed him, the shotglass now being held in his left hand. "What are you trying to say?"

The previous, usual easygoing expression he had was gone, now replaced with something serious—a rare sight for someone like Jake.

"I'm saying, you're being an idiot."

Silence.

Sunghoon scoffed, snapping his head forward. The abrupt motion made his mind spins and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut while fighting against the sudden dizziness before reopening them again.

"Watch your mouth."

"No, you shut up and listen to me," his friend fired back, voice growing firmer now. "I may not work in the same firm as you but I know you, Sunghoon. I know what you're doing—you kept shutting her down, acting like she's just another employee, like she means nothing when she means everything to you."

He tightened his grip on his shotglass.

"I'm trying to protect her," he replied, but deep down, he knew that was nothing more than a pathetic lie and a weak, feeble excuse.

"Bullshit."

That one, singular word came out as sharp as a knife. Sunghoon glanced at him from the corner of his eyes but didn't say a thing.

Jake exhaled. "You can keep telling yourself that all you want but it doesn't change anything. Not for you and definitely not for her. What you're doing is a fucking coward move."

That got a reaction from him. Sunghoon's jaw muscle twitched, now gripping onto the shotglass while fighting against the urge to throw it at the wall.

"Sim Jaeyun, I'd watch my mouth if I were you," he warned him in a low tone.

"Why? Because I'm right? Because I struck a nerve?" Jake retorted, unfazed and showing no signs of backing down.

"You don't get to treat her like that just because things didn't go your way. She didn't do anything wrong, Sunghoon. If anything, she's the one who got screwed over when you left without a word, only to become someone she barely knew anymore, like you're nothing more than a stranger."

He remained silent, lips sealed shut but his silence was louder than any response. Jake softened, just a little though.

"Look, if you really don't feel anything towards her anymore, fine. Then act like a decent human being with some manners and give her the closure she needs. Talk to her. Tell her the truth."

Sunghoon looked away, choosing to look out of the windows instead. After all, that was easier said than done. If anything, he'd rather take the truth with him, even when he's on his deathbed.

"Don't just pretend she's nothing to you. Because whether you like it or not, she was something. And from the way you talked about her to that look in your eyes, something tells me you feel something towards her."

Jake paused, letting his words sink in before he speaks up again.

"You're getting married. Married. That's a lifelong bond you'll have and it's not with her. Do you think you can survive watching as she moved on, fall in love with someone else who isn't you?"

Sunghoon didn't respond, not wanting to think about that. The thought of you walking hand-in-hand with someone else, someone that's not him, looking at him with your smile—the same fucking smile that never failed to make his heart melt while giving them that soft, tender and loving gaze, was enough for bile to rise in his throat.

He didn't respond, mostly because he couldn't find the words in him to describe the amount of frustration, insecurity and the huge conflict he had been holding for the past few years. But the way he downed the next shot—faster than the rest, said more than enough.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

You were in the comfort of your couch while slurping instant noodles from a pot as you were catching up on one of your favorite shows when someone knocked on your door. It was faint, barely audible if not for the low volume of the show currently playing on the television. You froze, mouth opened, fork hanging in the air as you were about to take another bite of your noodles.

For a moment, you thought you were hearing things. You didn't move an inch and when it's quiet again, you shrugged it off and continued eating—

Knock knock.

Only for it to happen again. This time, it's louder than before. You sighed, placing your pot on the low coffee table before you as you got up, groaning at the numbness in your toes. You headed to the door, making the mistake of not checking through the peephole, unlocked and opened it. Out of everyone you expected, you didn't expect it to be him.

But he's not alone.

"You don't know me but I know you-Wait, that sounds creepy," the man who's clearly struggling to keep Sunghoon standing upright spoke up, only to mumble to himself under his breath.

You were able to detect the faint Aussie accent in his voice and how he strangely resemblances a dog. Or more specifically, a golden retriever. You stood by the doorway, one hand on the doorknob with your eyes jumping from the two men's faces.

"What happened to him?"

You asked, pointing at Sunghoon whose obviously not alright, considering the evident Asian flush he has, his half-lidded, glossed over eyes and how he's half-leaning and half-stumbling on the spot while trying not to fall face-flat into the hard, solid ground or knocked his head against the doorframe. Although, you would pay good money to see that happen.

Not that you'd wished that on your superior. (Spoiler alert: you definitely would.)

The man had a sheepish look on his face. "He didn't want to listen to me and got drunk."

"I can see that. But why did you bring him here?" You deadpanned.

"Because he kept saying your name."

Silence.

Your breath caught, left fingers curling in on itself as it rested by your side. You stared at Sunghoon, watching as his usual cool, composed and collected demeanor was torn down, now replaced with him drunk, body swaying side to side on the spot. This wasn't the superior you're used to seeing at work, the man who kept pushing you away and never failed to remind you of your position.

No, this is just Park Sunghoon in all of his glory. The raw, unfiltered version of him that you've never seen before.

"..I think you got the wrong person," you ended up saying, grabbing onto any last hopes to push him away. Heeseung and Beomgyu's words echoed in your mind—a reminder and a gentle push to the direction you're supposed to go.

The man arched an eyebrow, pulling out a phone—Sunghoon's phone, from his own pocket and turned the screen around, showing the lockscreen—Sunghoon's lockscreen. What you saw made the air left your lungs, like you were punched right in the guts.

It was you.

Not the current you, now employed and working in the law firm. But rather, the you eighteen years ago. The picture of you was taken with you mid-laughing, head slightly tilted back with your eyes crinkled in a way that made them disappeared completely. Sunlight hits your face at just the right angle, all soft and warm. It even managed to catch the stray, loose strands of your hair.

It wasn't a posed picture nor were you looking at the camera. Heck, you didn't even know it was taken.

"…He took this," You whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Your fingers twitched at the side. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled itself in the depths of your stomach as you stared at the screen. You vividly remembered the day crystal clear. It was an ordinary, regular day, just like any other day there is in the year. You spent the entire day with Sunghoon—from chasing one another, to going to playgrounds or parks to walking home together at the end of the day.

But the same couldn't be applied to him. Just because it was ordinary to you, it wasn't to him. The man observed your expression and reaction carefully, something sharp glimmered in his eyes.

"Yeah. He did."

You remained silent, mind spinning with what you just seen. None of this make sense. The man you once knew—the one who looked at you like you were nothing, who spoke to you with tight politeness, drawing the lines between the two of you and occasionally being unreasonably harsh towards you, doesn't match this.

"Still think you're the wrong person?" The man asked in a gentle, knowing tone.

You parted your lips but couldn't find it in yourself to say a single word. Instead, you opened the door wider, moving to the side to give them space.

"..Come in."

The man—who goes by Jake, left after he set Sunghoon down on the couch. His annoyingly long legs nearly knocked your pot of noodles down to the floor if you didn't move it out of the way in the nick of time. And now, here you are—at eleven on what was supposed to be a peaceful Friday night for you to wind down from work, resulted in you getting an unexpected guest.

The guest being none other than Park Sunghoon himself.

It's clear he passed out the moment his head touched the cushion of the couch, falling asleep right there and then while remaining blissfully unaware of his surroundings or the fact that he wasn't in his own house. You stood by the foot of the couch, your show long forgotten as you looked down at the man in pure exasperation.

"Great, what do I do now?" You muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair, your brain struggling to think of your next move.

You left the living room, shortly returning afterwards with a damp towel held in your hands and a stack of neatly-folded oversize clothes. You moved closer, now standing closer to him as you bend over from your hips, reaching out to gently dap the towel on his face—an attempt to clean him up. He didn't stir much, allowing you to do as you pleased—much to your relief.

However, the relief didn't last long. When you moved the towel down to his neck, the fabric grazing against his sharp, precise jawline, he reacted. One moment you were on your knees. The next moment, you were being pulled upward. You let out a startled yelp, your vision turning sideways as the towel fell from your grip.

You let out a strangled "oof" when your face was awkwardly squashed into his neck with his arms securely wrapped around your figure, locking you in place as he hugged you, like a koala bear clinging onto its mother. Your hands were poised awkwardly in the air, like you're uncertain if you're allowed to touch him or not despite how Sunghoon is literally hugging you like there's no tomorrow.

Your mind blanked out when he pulled you closer, if that's even possible in the first place as he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows, like he's having a nightmare. You moved your head away as you placed one hand on the armrest of the couch while the other on the back, pushing yourself up with your knees on both sides of his thighs.

Your face was bright red when realization hits you at the rather… scandalous position you're in. It's almost like you're about to ri—

"No, this is fucking stupid. Get a grip of yourself," you muttered, wildly shaking your head side to side to get rid of any unwanted, distracting thoughts in your mind.

You picked up the towel, ready to walk away when Sunghoon's hand shot out to grab your wrist. Your shoulders tensed at the mere contact, freezing on the spot. You didn't dare to look at him, not wanting to see him wide awake and looking at you. And despite that, you decided to risk it and sneak a quick peak over your shoulder, only for you to heave a sigh of relief when you're greeted with the sight of Sunghoon sleeping peacefully with his eyes closed.

You reached out with your free, clean and dry hand, ready to pry his hand away from your wrist when you saw his lips moved, almost like he was saying something. Curiosity getting the better of you, you inched closer, bending forward a little to hear him better and then—

"…Don't go…"

The words were barely audible, all slurred, fragile and weak, like they will shattered with just one simple push. You went as still as a statue, breath hitching and your heart did a somersault when his grip on your wrist tightened, just slightly, like he's afraid you might slipped away from him, even when he's asleep.

"…Just… stay… a little longer…"

What?

Your heart stuttered. It stopped beating for a moment when you fully registered the words he whispered. You knew he was merely talking in his sleep—something anyone can do. And besides, he's drunk. But as the saying goes, 'drunk words are sober thoughts', you hated how a small part of you felt hopeful—something you haven't felt for a long time.

"I…I didn't mean to…" He murmured, furrowing his thick eyebrows slightly, too deep into whatever dream he was having. "I thought… it'd be easier for you if I just…"

His voice and words trailed off, uncertainty seeping into them. You hated how you were waiting with bated breath, anticipation pumping through your veins, dying to know what he was planning to say next.

"..I still miss you…"

The silence that followed afterwards was heavy, thick and deafening. You couldn't hear anything else, other than your own loud, rapid beating of your heart that seems to echo throughout the four walls of your living room.

And just like that, everything you tried so hard to bury, to ignore and to convince yourself that the past doesn't matter anymore. Especially when you were about to embark on a journey, to start the slow, long-term process of moving on. All of it was washed down the drain and you've never been this conflicted in your entire life.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

What the? Where am I?

Sunghoon woke up to find himself laying on a couch that was too small for him. He looked around, noting the unfamiliar but familiar walls. The man pushed himself up, only to hiss when his head spins, causing him to stop as he clutched the side of his head, only shifting when the giddiness stopped. He sat up, groaning at the lingering backache from the uncomfortable position he slept in and it then hit him.

He's in your house.

"What the fuck happened?"

He murmured to himself, trying to recall the series of events leading to this but he came up empty. No matter how much he tried to think back, all he got was a blank space, hitting the dead end. Sunghoon clicked his tongue, annoyed at the wide gap in his memory. Before he could ponder over it, he heard the sound of soft footsteps coming from his right.

His muscles tensed up, already knowing who it was without looking back.

"Oh, you're up. How are you feeling?" You asked, acting like everything's perfectly fine and dandy when it's far from normal.

Sunghoon swallowed, clearing his throat as he pointedly faced the front, staring at the outline of his figure reflected on the blank television screen before him. "Better now, still have a slight hangover but I'd get over it. I should get going."

He hurriedly said the last sentence, not wanting to make you anymore uncomfortable. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to give you the wrong idea. The wrong idea that there's something between the two of you. If he listened closely, he can imagine Jake going off at him again, probably telling him off about how stupid he is but he quickly shoved his friend out of the window.

You stopped, now entering his sights and you slowly turned on the spot to face him. His eyes flicked to your direction, only for him to do a double-take when he realized you had dressed up more than usual. Even more than you during working hours. Sunghoon couldn't helped with the way he scanned you from head to toe with his eyes, taking in your figure, forgoing the thought of being subtle.

You worn a soft, form-fitting dress in a muted pastel shade that complemented your figure perfectly, the fabric hugging your waist before elegantly falling to just above your knees. The neckline was modest but the way it framed your collarbones along with a silver necklace resting just above, drew attention without trying.

A light cardigan loosely hung off your shoulders, sleeves pushed up to your arms, giving you a soft and almost effortless look. Your heels were simple, not too high or low but enough to add a hint of confidence from where you stood. Your hair wasn't how it was at work and one look was enough to tell him that you had styled it, with soft waves framing your face, catching the light whenever you moved.

It makes you looked…

Sunghoon swallowed for the second time.

Stunning.

There was no other word for it and he hated how the thought immediately came to him. He's so caught-up in his mini staring game that he wasn't aware you had noticed it. Noticed how his gaze lingered longer than usual. Noticed how his eyes kept flicking down to your lips. Lips that were covered in a noticeable, glossy shade of lip-gloss. Lips that looked kissable.

To be more specific, lips that he wants to kiss.

You frowned at the prolonged silence and how he kept staring at you. "Is there something wrong?"

No. Yes. You look beautiful. Stay here with me. I'm sorry for how I've treated you. Please come back to me.

Instead of saying any of those sentences, he asked a question instead, with the words slipping from his mouth before his still half-asleep brain could processed it.

"Where are you going?"

Silence.

Sunghoon internally cursed at himself the moment it slipped. You paused, body already angled towards the door, only to freeze when his voice pierced through the silence. You looked over your shoulder, confusion written all over your face. And gods, he desperately wished he can just get up, closed the distance and kissed you until you're gasping for air, until you're begging for him and until you didn't want to leave anymore.

But he held himself back, which proved to be a difficult task for someone who always keep his cool. Not when it comes to you though.

"Uh, I'm going out. Why?"

"With who?"

Not when you're dressed like that. Dressed like you're the main character and how you're gonna draw attention from everyone. Everyone who's not me.

He saw the way you narrowed your eyes and how you ran your thumb over your knuckles—something you do when you managed to pick up something about him. Up to now, it felt like you have some sort of hidden, secret ability to read his thoughts. Like you're a mind-reader and honestly, if you truly were, it will make his life so much easier—not that he'd dare to say it out loud.

"Why are you asking?" You fired back with a question of your own.

Sunghoon stubbornly remained silent—his signature move and you scoffed, making a show of rolling your eyes.

"I'm going out with Heeseung. We're gonna have lunch."

The moment those words left your mouth, something in the air shifted. It was small but it was unmistakable. The air thickened, so thick that one can sliced it apart with a mere butter knife. His eyes darkened a shade, now resting his elbows on his thighs with his legs spread slightly. He intertwined his fingers together—to prevent himself from doing something as reckless as kissing you right there and then.

He exhaled through his nose and looked to the side. "Right. Of course."

Even though he muttered it under his breath, you caught it. Of course you did. You swallowed the sudden rise of irritation that shot up when you heard his words. You crossed your arms, tapping your fingers on your arms while boring holes into his head. If looks could kill, he would've died on the spot.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, sounding defensive but you couldn't help it.

"Nothing," he snapped, his tone cold and harsh—exactly how he sounds like in the office.

In a poor, feeble attempt to distract himself, Sunghoon stood up and ran a hand through his messy hair. He looked everywhere but you, like it's painful for him for his eyes to land on you. And to him, it is painful. Painful that you actually put in effort to meet someone. Most importantly, it's another man. He knows you and Heeseung are close, often seeing the two of you hanging out together whenever Beomgyu was too busy with work.

He remembered watching from wherever he was with a tight jaw, a vice-like grip until his knuckles were turning white, as you conversed with Heeseung. Sunghoon couldn't do anything but to watch, like a bystander, as someone made you laughed until you were shedding tears, until you were gasping and wheezing for breath, until your entire face lits up the entire room—

"I wasn't aware you have plans," he added after a moment, his tone forced into something neutral but the tightness in his voice gave it away.

You didn't catch it, too busy trying not to lose your mind at how weird he's acting. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I'm supposed to report my schedule outside of work to you."

It's clear you were being sarcastic and honestly, you weren't in the wrong. Sunghoon looked out of the window, noting how blue the sky looks today. He hated how his heart tightened with ache at your bluntess, at how you didn't hesitate to stand your ground. But that was one of the many things he loved about you.

"..Right."

He said quietly and he should stop there. Should let you get going but there was another part of him. Another small, selfish part that wants to keep you here, in the same room as him, as long as possible. Forget Heeseung.

"And you dressed up for that?"

A wave of regret hits him immediately after that. He should say something but it was too late. The damage was already done. You gawked at him, mouth wide open with a mixture of emotions written all over your face—anger, frustration and most importantly, disbelief.

Sunghoon sank his teeth into his bottom lip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants to hide how he had curled them into tight fists, actively restraining himself.

"What the fuck are you trying to say? God forbid me from wanting to dress up. It's not like we're going on a date," you retorted, shoulders trembling in rage with the flames gradually rising.

Sunghoon glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and looked away. "..Whatever, it's none of my business. Go on. I won't hold you back any longer. I can see myself out."

You stared at him, rendered speechless with his rude, cold behavior.

"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you!? You should be grateful that I even let you into my house in the first place. If not for Jake, you would've been lying on the streets. But since you don't care about anything other than work and that fiance of yours, what else do I really have to say?"

You sneered, pausing for a second to let the words sink in before you continued, practically spatting them out, like the words are nothing but toxic venom. And Sunghoon can feel your hatred just from those words alone.

"This is the last time we'd be seeing one another out of work. Never ever try and talk to me again. Good fucking bye, Park Sunghoon. You're a fucking asshole and I hope you know that."

You didn't wait for his response, spinning to stomp out of your house, aggressively slamming the door shut with a loud, ferocious force that it's a miracle it's still attached to the hinges. Once you were gone, Sunghoon collapsed into the couch. He covered his face with his hands and groaned, the sound muffled and full of nothing but pure agony.

"What have I done?"

◟‿୨୧‿◞

You started avoiding Sunghoon ever since then but it was easier said than done. The fact that you're working in the same firm is one thing. But the other fact that you directly report to him is another different thing. However, you weren't blind to notice the small but gradual changes about him.

One good example will be when you were pulling another all-nighter, trying to read through the countless and seemingly never-ending case files spread out before your desk. Sunghoon had accepted a case but unlike any other cases, this was probably the most baffling case you laid your eyes on in your entire life.

At first glance, it was simple—just another hit-and-run case. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. It was thanks to Sunghoon who discovered something was amiss when he read through the report, constantly replaying the CCTV footage he managed to get a hold on, again and again like a broken cycle and that's when it hits him.

"Your report is missing something," he spoke up out of the blue.

After sitting in silence for the past few hours or so in Sunghoon's office, you jerked in your seat when he said that sentence, horribly catching you off-guard. It didn't help that you were exhausted as well, fighting the urge to fall asleep right there and then.

"What is?" You asked, confused.

"The accident was reported at 11.42pm but she passed the intersection at 11.39pm."

You blinked, still not following along. You watched as Sunghoon grabbed a pen and flipped the document to the other end, writing down the timestamps in neat, precise strokes. You had to wheel your chair towards his desk to get a closer look.

"There's a three minutes difference. That's barely enough time for impact, panic and escape, especially on a road with traffic lights and cameras."

Your eyes widened when you started to connect the dots. "…Unless she didn't stop."

"She would've had to slow down at the junction, no matter what," he pointed out.

"So the timeline is off," you concluded.

Sunghoon nodded in agreement, locking eyes with you. "Yes, and that it's done by someone else."

For some reason, you didn't look away from him, like you were having your own moment—just like those moments shared between the two leads in a Kdrama. Time seemed to slow down with everything coming to a stop. You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your parted lips. For a split second, you thought he was about to do something reckless but instead, he broke eye contact and pointedly cleared his throat.

"Let's stop here for today. I'll drop you off since it's late," he said, voice tense.

You mutely nodded, moving to pack your things while replaying the brief moment you had in your mind. You weren't sure why but maybe it was the way he looked at you. Maybe it was that certain look in his eyes. Whatever the actual reason was, you couldn't put a finger on it and you shrugged it off, not wanting to think twice about it.

What you didn't know however, was that was just the start. The start of Sunghoon attempting to redeem himself.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

Another example happened one week later, after the trial was successful in Sunghoon's favor. The client—a woman, was on cloud nine, profusely thanking him and you for saving her life. You had to swallow the sudden surge of irritation when the woman boldly embraced him while shedding happy tears. You knew the gesture doesn't mean anything and how she did it out of pure gratitude.

But that doesn't mean you were blind to how something ugly made itself known as it curled around your heart before sinking its claws in. Something painfully similar to jealousy.

You're being stupid. Why are you getting jealous? It's not like you're his fucking girlfriend.

You shook your head to clear your mind of the distracting thoughts, not wanting it to further ruin or dampen your mood. You felt something sharp being lodged deep in your heart when she rested her hand on his arm, fingers spread out, like she wants to touch more of him. The last straw comes in the form of her stepping closer, invading his invisible personal space and how he stiffened—a subtle move that didn't went unnoticed by you, made you stepped forward.

"Excuse me, Mam, we have somewhere else to be, so if you could excuse us," you loudly said, gathering the attention of the people around you as they looked at you with matching curious stares.

You smoothly inserted yourself in between the woman and Sunghoon. To anyone else, it would be an amusing sight—for you're shorter than your superior and compared to him—someone who often goes to the gym twice per week, he gives off the appearance of someone who knows how to handle himself. You didn't turn around to face him, already able to visualize his surprise with how you rescued him.

The woman was stunned, owlishly blinking her eyes a few times, evidently flustered. She then lets out a strangled, forced laughter, pretending everything was fine when it's not.

"Oh, right, sorry about that. If that's the case, then I won't keep you waiting," she said, bowing slightly before excusing herself, walking away with her face bright red in shame.

You spun around, glaring at Sunghoon and scoffed when you made eye contact. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Like the way you used to, back when we were kids.

Your lips remained sealed shut, not wanting nor having the courage to utter those words out loud.

"..Forget it, let's go. We have another case on our hands," you muttered, walking past him with him easily matching your pace. Even when you refused to glance at him, you can feel the intensity of his firm, unwavering gaze.

Maybe it was the trick of the light or maybe your vision is starting to deteriorate but you sworn you saw something akin to softness when you risked a glance at him as both of you walked side by side. If Sunghoon stepped closer until the fabric of your blazers brushed against one another and how you didn't step away, then that was your secret to keep.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

The last and final example took place at a company dinner that took place at a five-stars hotel. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor when you arrived with Heeseung and Beomgyu, unable to believe what you were looking at. Beomgyu was the first to react as the three of you entered the lobby, following the directions provided to one of the major event rooms where the dinner will be taking place.

"Jeez, I know the company's rich but not this rich!" He hissed under his breath, eyes wildly darting left and right, trying to take in the grand and majestic hallways he's in.

Heeseung nodded along. "Yeah, but didn't the email stated the purpose of the company dinner was to thank everyone for their hard work?"

You couldn't help but scoffed, looping your hands through both Heeseung and Beomgyu's arms as you dragged the two men to the designated room, with the guards letting you in.

"Alright gentlemen, let's not talk about work after hours. Let's just eat and enjoy the moment, shall we? Free food is food," you said.

One look around was enough to know whoever was in-charge of the decorations, they had gone over the top. The hall was breathtaking—high ceilings draped with cascading chandeliers that covered the entire room in a warm, golden glow. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined on one side, revealing the city skyline as it glittered like a sea of stars.

Round tables occupied the floor in pristine white linen with each centerpiece adorned with different kinds of fresh flowers and delicate glass ornaments that caught the light here and there. Along the far end was where your destination was, waiting for you—the long spread of food that seems to stretch almost endlessly.

It has everything—from gourmet canapes to full-course dishes plated like pieces of art. Soft classical music instrument played in the background from a live band, perfectly setting the mood and it was loud enough to fill the silence without countering the chatters. Everyone put on their best outfits for tonight's dinner—tailored suits, elegant dresses and polished shoes that clicked against the marbled, polished floor.

Laughter came here and there as people mingled among themselves, talking about everything and anything at the same time. Unlike the usual stiff, tense and fast-paced atmosphere everyone was used to, this was more softer, relaxed and lighter. It felt like a much-needed break to everyone, considering how hard they had worked.

"I don't think insane is enough to describe all of this," Beomgyu continued, grabbing a plate for himself as he greedily helped himself to the wide selection of food, filling his plate up in no time.

You snorted as you grabbed a plate for yourself, walking behind him with Heeseung behind you. "Told you so. Less thinking and more eating. We gotta eat our salaries' worth."

Heeseung laughed, the most relaxed as compared to the two of you as he grabbed some food here and there. "I swear, both of you are unbelievable."

Beomgyu was about to retort with something when a group of colleagues standing nearby shouted his name. He turned to them before back to you and Heeseung, looking conflicted, like he doesn't want to leave the two of you alone. You made the choice for him, shooing him away, like he's some sort of pest.

"Go on, we'll be fine. Just find us whenever you're done," you said.

Beomgyu dramatically gasped, placing his free hand over his chest. "You traitor!"

He exclaimed as he was being dragged towards the group of colleagues who had been eagerly waiting for him, excitedly slapping him on the back. You and Heeseung watched from the sidelines as he effortlessly fall into their conversation within seconds, blending in with them, like the true social butterfly he is.

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head while taking a bite of his food. "Poor guy. Let's hope he's still sober by the time it's over."

You let out a sudden, loud laugh, startling the people around you and slapped a hand over your mouth. "I don't know about that. I think he'd be gone before it ended."

At that, the two of you walked around the room while chatting with other people, exchanging small talks or catching up with colleagues from different departments. It's easy like this—allowing you to temporarily escaped from reality as you chatted about anything but work. It's the kind of conversations that comes naturally, without the weight you had been carrying for the past few days.

Eventually, Heeseung oh so kindly led you to one of the tables for you to sit down, take a breather and relaxed your legs. You practically heaved a sigh of relief the moment you sat down, leaning over to rub at your slightly swollen feet.

"Maybe it was a bad choice for me to wear heels," you complained, straightening yourself as you leaned back into the chair, holding your plate with your left finger while trying to finish the remains on your plate.

Your friend chuckled, diagonally sitting on your left with one leg crossed over the other. "You could've worn sneakers and no one would've bat an eye."

You gasped, shooting him an incredulous look. "That would ruin my outfit!" You gestured to yourself. Just like the other ladies, you were dressed in a dress that fits the guidelines of the company dinner.

It's a sleeveless black dress with the hem reaching just above your knees. The length itself is modest enough but the way it hugged your body in the right areas was enough to gather stares with some daring to look longer than usual. You may not have noticed it—the effect you have but the same doesn't apply to a certain someone.

Someone who had been watching you the entire time, right from the moment you stepped into the room. Sunghoon nearly dropped his glass of half drank white wine when you entered, feeling his breath leaving his lungs. His mind blanked out at how stunning you looked, easily drawing everyone's eyes onto your approaching figure, whether they knew it or not.

That's another thing Sunghoon loved about you—how you're able to capture the entire room's attention without lifting a finger. He watched with a tight jaw, hands nearly snapping the glass into half in his vice-like grip as you were deeply engrossed in a conversation with Heeseung. From where he stood, he was able to get a clear view of how you leaned in slightly to say something into the man's ear, followed by you laughing as you covered your mouth with your hand after he made a joke.

Seriously, is he really that funny?

Sunghoon sulked, downing the rest of the wine in one go, not even flinching when someone threw an arm around his shoulders. He didn't have to turn to know who it was, for there was only one person who dares to lay a hand on him.

"Damn, you're beyond whipped, lover boy. Stop glaring and do something already. Did you remember what I told you?" Jake snickered, earning a nasty, signature side eye from the pale man.

"I know, I tried to make up for it by starting small," he replied, recounting the small, little but precise moments that happened with you to Jake—how he drove you home, how he stood up for you and how he didn't raise his voice at you, point out your mistakes and the list goes on.

His friend whistled, impressed once he was done. "Damn, didn't know the Park Sunghoon is capable of putting in effort in something that's not related to work."

He groaned. "Jake."

"Right, my bad man. So, when are you gonna man up and talk to her?"

Sunghoon went silent, eyes automatically and unconsciously drifting towards you, watching as you were now telling Heeseung something while wildly flailing your arms about like a wild, frantic chicken as you were retelling what seemed to be a thrilling story, judging from the starry look in your eyes and how they were practically glowing.

When was the last time you looked at him like that?

Sunghoon sighed, robotically facing the front while swiping off another glass of white wine from a tray of a passing waiter. He swirled the glass, watching as the colorless liquid sloshed around before taking a slow, deliberate sip.

"…Not yet, Jake. I don't want to mess this up."

Jake rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Really? That sounds like an excuse than anything else. You know what it sounds like? It sounds like you're scared. And that you're a fucking coward."

"You've already said it before at the bar."

"Yeah, but it's clear nothing has changed. Which is why I'm repeating what I said before. Park Sunghoon, get your fucking shit together before you lose her. Forever. Once you're married, you can't go back anymore."

"I know that!" Sunghoon snapped. His sudden outburst drew the attention of the people around him but they didn't think twice, returning to their respective conversations.

"I know I'm a coward but what am I supposed to do, huh!? Tell me! How does one even tell someone he truly love and cherish with his entire heart that they are sorry for the things they have done and said? Do you know how painful it was for me to get through every day, when she's so fucking close but so far from me!?"

Jake's eyes widened, cursing under his breath as he looked around, to see more and more people were now looking in their direction.

"Uh Sunghoon, you might wanna lower do—"

"Do you have any idea how much I want to apologize to her, wishing I could turn back time, go back to the past where everything was fine, just like the way it used to be? How I didn't want any of these? How I didn't want anything else but just (Name) by my side? That's all that I care about!"

"Sun—"

"Then tell me, why the fuck am I still standing here doing nothing!?" His voice cracked at the end, louder than he intended—whether he knew it or not.

Silence.

"Sunghoon."

Your voice cut through everything, as sharp as a dagger but it's clear and unmistakably yours. His breath hitched in his throat, fully turning around and there you were, standing just a few feet away from him with an unreadable look on your face. He couldn't helped but wondered if this was how you felt while trying to decipher his feelings but the thought was kicked out of his mind when you approached him, closing the distance in no more than six large strides.

Your hand shot out, grabbed his wrist. The sudden contact made him flinched, startled and his eyes snapped down.

"Come with me."

It wasn't a request but rather, it was a demand—giving him a sense of deja vu. But Sunghoon didn't resist or say anything. He allowed himself to be pulled through the gathered crowd, turning a blind eye to the multiple, curious stares and the whispers following you like a shadow. Jake remained silent, watching from where he stood. He can only prayed that whatever happens next won't end up on the news.

◟‿୨୧‿◞

You didn't stop walking until you reached a secluded corner of the long hallway, until you were far enough that the noise from the dinner event was reduced to nothing but a distant hum. You came to a stop, dropping his hand and sharply turned to face him. Your chest rose and fall, the emotions you had buried for so long were clawing their way back to the surface, threatening to break free.

"Park Sunghoon, what the hell was that all about?" You demanded, your voice low but borderline shaking.

The man—your childhood friend didn't respond. He simply stared at you, like he hasn't seen you in years, like you were something he wasn't sure he was allowed to look at, like you were nothing more than a figment of his imagination. And that whatever was happening right now, is nothing more than a dream.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms hard enough to leave indents behind. "I asked you a question. Answer. Me."

He swallowed. "…You weren't supposed to hear that."

You stared at him and let out a disbelief laugh, the sound wreck, sharp and fragile. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I have covered my ears and let you yell your feelings out in the middle of a company dinner?"

"That's not—" He stopped himself mid-sentence, exhaling in frustration. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what is it? I don't know about you but it sounds pretty clear to me," you shot back, stepping closer now. Your eyes were glowing with flames of anger, like you're desperately trying to rip the truth out of him.

Silence.

It stretched until you were about to walk away when—

"I'm sorry."

The words were quiet, barely above a whisper. And yet, they hit you harder than any of his previous cold, ruthless words. You froze, heart nearly stopped beating in your chest when you heard it. You thought your ears were playing tricks on you and that you were mishearing things.

"…What?"

"I'm sorry. For everything," he repeated, his voice much steadier this time but it's still packed with the same amount of rawness.

You narrowed your eyes, your fight mode instinctively kicking in. It was one, last and final attempt to distance yourself before you dug a deeper grave for yourself.

"No. No, you don't get to do that now," you said, frantically shaking your head as you took a small step back.

"(Name), I know I don't deser—"

"Don't say my name or anything else. You don't get to just fucking stand there and say sorry like it fixes anything," you interrupted him.

"I know it doesn't fix anything."

"Then why not!? Why now, Sunghoon? After everything you've done. After the way you treated me, you suddenly what? Feel gulity? You think your pathetic apology can mend everything? Can it bring back the past!?"

Your voice cracked, leaving you to shriek and scream at the top of your lungs in the hallway. You no longer cared about maintaining professionalism, not when you're in front of the man who had seen you at your worst and best. Not in front of the man who you came to love with your entire soul, only for him to toss you aside, like you were nothing. Like you weren't worthy.

He flinched—such a small movement but you saw it.

"You're right, I apologize because I felt gulity," he admitted, his voice low and defeated.

Your breath caught.

"And because Jake's right. If I don't do something now, I'll lose you forever. And honestly? That fucking terrifies me," he continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration, messing it up in the process.

The pure, raw and unfiltered honesty made your heart skipped a beat and your breath stuttered in your throat. But you didn't let it show, refusing to show him the effect he still has on you, much to your disappointment.

"You didn't seem scared when you treated me like I meant nothing. Or when I was just another employee," you pointed out, each word deliberate, like you had taken great care to choose them out of the entire dictonary.

"I was a coward."

You blinked, not expecting the sudden confession. "Yeah, you are one. Why did you do that? Why did you pushed me away, looked at me like I'm nothing? Like I'm just another employee?"

The man lets out a shaky breath, the sound itself so painful and raw it made you want to step closer to hug him. But you held yourself back.

"I thought if I do that, you'd be able to find someone better. Someone who deserves your love, your smile, your kindness, your attention and everything about you. I.. I don't deserve you."

You let out a bitter, broken laugh as you felt something warm and salty stinging your eyes, blurring your vision slightly. Sunghoon faltered at the sight of your face and he stepped forward, slow and careful. When it's clear you're letting him move closer, he took another step, one move at a time.

"Who do you think you are?" You croaked out.

The man stilled, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "I—"

"No, shut up and listen. Who do you think you are, thinking that I don't deserve you? What makes you think that way, huh? Did God told you all of those and you decided to went along with it? Willingly? You don't get to make my choices on my behalf," you started, closing the distance to forcefully jab your finger into his chest as you hissed at him.

Sunghoon's expression broke. "(Name)—"

"You don't know what I've been through because of you. I couldn't stopped crying every night after work. I kept asking myself: just when did everything go wrong? Was I the one at fault? What can I do to make up for it? What can I do to make him look at me again, just like the way he used to? No matter how much I think, I couldn't think of anything! You left without telling me and came back, looking like a completely different person."

You paused, letting your words sink in before you continued.

"My friends told me to move on."

This time, it was his turn for his breath to stutter. "..What?"

You weakly nodded your head, tears now freely rolling down your cheeks. Sunghoon's hands twitched, tempted to reach out to wipe them away but he restrained himself. Not yet.

"They said I don't deserve you, that I deserve someone better."

He looked away, jaw tight and clenched. "They're right."

You made a sound of frustration, reaching out to grab his face, turning him so he can see you. "I don't care what anyone has to say! I've already made up my choice!"

"Your choice? Wait, you mean—"

"Yes! For fuck's sake, you're the only person I want! I don't want anyone else but you!" You exclaimed, heaving to catch your breath after you quite and literally, confessed your feelings in a hallway.

Sunghoon stared at you, lips parted, dumbfounded and rendered speechless. "I—You love me? For my personality?"

You rolled your eyes. "Ye—!"

You weren't given a chance to finish your sentence, barely getting the word out when he cut you off by crashing his lips against yours. Sunghoon expertly moved his hands—one hand supporting the back of your neck while the other pulled you in by your waist, until you're directly pressed chest-to-chest.

Your mind blanked out with you stilling in his arms, only for your eyelids to flutter shut as you returned the kiss, sighing into his mouth. He greedily swallowed the sound, shuddering when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The kiss was slow and languid, like you're trying to convey your true feelings to one another.

I'm sorry. I really am.

Thank you for choosing me.

Despite everything, it's still you. It will always be you.

I love you. I really do.

You ended up breaking the kiss but you didn't pull away completely, resting your forehead against his with your noses grazing against one another. You opened your eyes, to see he was already looking at you. Unlike before, when his gaze was cold, blank and emotionless, this was full of nothing but pure love and adoration. It's enough for your heart to soar, spreading its invisible wings.

"Really? Did you really mean what you say?" He murmured, eyes darting between your eyes and your parted lips.

You chuckled. "Yeah, I mean it. I love you, Sunghoon."

He groaned, the sound low and dangerous. Hearing it does something to you, making heat pooled in your stomach. You attempted to rub your thighs together but he was faster. Without wasting time, he carried you bridal-style in his arms. You squeaked, throwing your arms around him as he walked with purpose, heading to where the elevators are.

"What are you doing!? Put me down!" You hissed, looking around and thankfully, there wasn't anyone around to see you in such a humiliating state.

He paid you no mind, jamming his finger into the Up button. The lift in front of him opened and he wasted no time in entering. Sunghoon pressed one of the many floors of the hotel. He didn't even wait for the doors to close, already crowding you against the wall to kiss you again. His firm, tall and strong body easily held you upright as he steals your breath away.

"W-Wait-hngh-s-stop-hah," you wetly and openly panted against his mouth. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers straining as you tried to push him away but it's futile, with his strength completely overwhelming yours.

He blindly grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head with one hand, holding you in place. None of you cared that you're in an elevator, a semi-public place or how the camera was able to capture every heated moment shared by the two of you. Sunghoon sworn under his breath, his free hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your dress up in the process.

His touch made your skin warm, leaving nothing but a tingling sensation and goosebumps behind in his wake. You gasped into his mouth when he toyed with the hem of your nude stockings, tugging on the thin fabric before letting it go. The fabric snapped against your skin, causing you to jolt on the spot. You sworn you felt him smirked against your lips at your reaction.

Ding!

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Fortunately for you, no one was standing on the other end or they would have gotten the jumpscare of their lives. The two of you tumbled out of the elevator in a mess of limbs, struggling to walk with Sunghoon leading the way. Although, it was easier said than done when he kept kissing you, like he couldn't get enough of how sweet and soft your lips taste.

Eventually, he broke the kiss with a feat of amazing self-restraint, pulling out what looked like a keycard to a room as he stopped before a door. You watched as he pressed the card against the door and a green light lit up. The moment the door was opened, you were yanked into the room, only to be shoved into the door, closing it in the process and he's on you again.

Unlike before, the kiss was more intense, frantic and desperate. His hands were everywhere—greedily touching you in places he wasn't allowed to. Just like before, Sunghoon pushed your black dress up, revealing the stockings you worn underneath it. He boldly cupped you through your underwear, chuckling into your mouth at how you're already wet.

"Look at you, already dripping for me. All from what? Just a kiss? It's all for me, isn't it?"

He hummed, lightly pressing his thumb down on your cunt through the fabric, savoring the choked out whine you let out at the light, fleeting contact. You canted your hips forward, craving more friction but to your utter frustration, he dropped his hand. He pried your lips apart with his skillful tongue, exploring every inch of your warm mouth, ensuring nothing was left untouched.

Your legs buckled, threatening to give way when he gave a harsh suck on your tongue, the sound seemingly loud and lewd in the quiet hotel room. It made your ears turned red. Sunghoon easily lifted you up, maneuvering you to the bed. He placed you down on the pristine white, soft linen sheets with utter care and gentlness that it made your heart stuttered.

You whined, blindly tugging on the blazer of his suit as he hovered over you, careful to not crush you with his weight.

"Off. Take it off," you pleaded.

He chuckled. "Since you asked so nicely."

He withdrew from you, long and slender fingers making quick work of the buttons of his blazer. You pushed yourself up, aiding him in it while ignoring how your hands were borderline trembling. Thankfully, he didn't comment on it. Once the final button was unbuttoned, Sunghoon carelessly chucked it aside. He unknot the tie, ready to throw it to the floor when he paused, an invisible lightbulb going off in his mind.

"Mind if I try something?" He asked, holding the now long, black fabric in his left hand.

You nodded, granting him permission. He scooted closer, grabbed your wrists, telling you to hold them together and you obeyed. Your breath caught when he tied the black fabric around your wrists, binding them together. Once he's done, he observed your face, trying to search for any signs of discomfort.

"Is it too tight?" He questioned, genuinely concerned.

"No, it's perfect."

He nodded. "Let me know if anything hurts, alright? Green's to continue and red's to stop."

"Got it."

The moment those words left your mouth, the switch was instant. His eyes darkened a shade as he pushed you back until you were lying flat on your back. You watched, unable to look away as he unbuttoned the buttons of his white dress shirt at a slow, teasing pace. You squirmed about on the sheets. Now that your wrists were tied together, you couldn't do anything, only able to helplessly watched while you're dripping nonstop.

Sunghoon chuckled, the sound low, mean and degrading at how your reactions. "Aw, what's wrong, princess? Need something?"

You let out a pathetic keen—barely able to recognize your own voice. "P-Please."

"Please what? C'mon, use your words and tell me, baby. I'm not a mind reader," he drawled, finally unbuttoning the last button and shedded the dress shirt, leaving him shirtless.

Your eyes moved, shamelessly oogling him in all of his glory, drinking in his toned chest and the very solid abs he got—results from his hard work at the gym. Sunghoon caught you eye-fucking him. Of course he did. He didn't say anything but the way he smirked was enough. He made quick work of the rest of his pants and boxers, leaving him completely bare while you were still fully clothed, unable to lay your hands on him.

You instinctively looked down, nervously swallowing when you saw his cock. And wow, it's huge. You never knew your childhood friend can be packing down there, hiding and growing a third leg but you can only assumed puberty must have hit him like a truck. The mushroomy tip had already turned a ferocious shade of red due to the lack of attention and neglection. Heck, there was even a bead of precum on the tip that glistened under the dim lights.

You attempted to close your legs but Sunghoon moved. His large hands grabbed both of your thighs, his fingers touching as he held you down, forcing you to spread and present yourself before him. Even though you still have your clothes on, you couldn't helped but feel small under his intense, unwavering gaze.

"P-Please touch me," you whimpered and who was he to deny you?

Sunghoon groaned, wasting no time in removing your clothes from your body, tossing all of them to the floor—ending up in the same fate as his own clothes. Although, the same couldn't be applied to your stockings as he ripped them into shreds instead, too impatient to roll them off your legs. Now that you were completely bare, he had to pause to drink in the sight, almost wishing he can imprint this gorgeous scene into his mind.

Your lipstick was already smudged and nearly wiped off due to the intense make-out session you had. Your hair was spread out like a halo on the pillow, making you looked like an angel. Your lips was swollen and bruised, eyes dazed and slightly glossy as you stared at him, wanting him to do something already.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous. I can't believe you're mine now," he breathed out, sounding in awe and somehow, that made your breath caught.

He didn't give you time to recover, shifting down until he's on his stomach and dived in. Sunghoon started with a flat stripe up your dripping, aching cunt. The first contact has your mind spinning, nearly making you see the white pearly gates of heaven. You cried out, the sound raw and was ripped from the depth of your throat.

He licked you open with his tongue. Each swipe was slow, deliberate and full of purpose. Your thighs trembled in his grip as you jerked your hips forward, pushing yourself into his mouth. He groaned in appreciation, face buried deep in your leaking pussy. The vibration traveled through your body, drawing a loud and shameless moan from you.

He continued working you open, eventually pushing his tongue inside you. The sudden intrustion of the wet, slimey and slippery muscle made stars explode in your vision. Your back arched off the back, creating an amazing arch that could put even the crescent moon to shame. Your tied wrists were hanging over your head, leaving you helpless and vulnerable to his assault.

"Oh fuck. Hngh, d-don't stop-" You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he slides two of his long, slender fingers in, moving them in a scissors-like motion, spreading you open and preparing you for what's to come.

"Shit, you taste divine, baby. Could stay here forever and eat this pussy for every meal. Forget food when I can have a five-stars meal here," he growled, his voice vibrating through you.

You've never heard him like this—all pent-up as he gets drunk on your slick, sounds and body. The thought of that was enough to make you rocked your hips against his mouth and Sunghoon lets you do it, letting you ride his tongue. He continued to finger you while fucking you with his tongue.

The double pentration drew a series of angelic, sinful sounds from you. Sounds that you never thought you were capable of making. You can feel your climax coming, with how the pressure kept building as it coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach, like a rubberband being stretched to its limit—

Only for him to pull out, both fingers and tongue.

"Wha—"

"Can't have you cumming on my fingers and mouth. I'd rather have you cum on my cock instead."

Maybe it's the way he said it without hesitation. Maybe it's how firm he is, knowing the effect he has on you. Maybe it's the determined and desired look in his eyes. Whatever it was, it drew an soft, involuntary and needy whine from you. Sunghoon situated himself in between your legs. He aligned himself against your entrance and slowly pushes in.

You felt his mushroomy tip breaching past your folds, sinking deeper and deeper until he eventually bottomed out, buried to the hilt. Your mouth dropped open, forming an "O" shape. You felt impossibly full, like you were being split apart on his cock. Heck, you sworn you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, with how deep he is inside you.

Sunghoon fisted the sheets, twisting them between his fingers while resisting the tempting urge to just pound you six ways into heaven. He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable and gods, if anything happen to you, he wouldn't know how to continue living after that.

"C-Can't-" You choked out, your pussy being stretched obscenly wide to accomdate to the huge grith of his cock.

He was quick to reassure you. "Shh, it's okay, princess. Just take a deep breath for me, alright? And then breathe out."

You copied him, managing to calm down. Sunghoon took that as his cue to move, pulling out until only the tip was still inside you before sheathing himself back in.

"Fuck!"

You moaned, wrists evidently straining against the temporary bondage as he repeats the movement, setting an even pace. He thrusted into you whole holding himself upright with just his hands. Sunghoon gritted his teeth at how you kept sucking him in, how there was close to no resistance at every thrust.

The hotel room was filled with the lewd, obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, his balls slapping against your inner thighs along with your pleasured moans that gradually get higher and higher. Until he had to duck his head, muffling it by kissing you while swallowing it down his own throat, treating it like an offering from the Gods themselves.

With your lips still interlocked, Sunghoon slung your legs around his waist as he bends you forward, putting you in a mating press. The new position allowed him to hit deeper. You sworn you can feel his tip constantly kissing the entrance to your womb. You couldn't keep up with the kiss, simply moaning and babbling incoherent words that sounded a lot like "more", "please" and "Sunghoon".

Whatever it was, it seemed to do the trick on him. Your bodies were covered in a layer of sweat with salty droplets rolling down his back. Some even landed on the sheets as they trickled down his face. He glanced down, his thrusts faltering mid-motion when he saw a bump on your stomach. A bump made by him, due to how big he is.

He moved his left hand and pressed down on it.

His action elicited a high-pitched keen from you which to him, it was the most delicious sound he has ever heard from you. Sunghoon's mind spins, starting to spiral as he began to wonder: how will you look when you carry his children in the future? How will you treat them?

The thoughts kept flooding his mind and with the newfound vigor, he ruthlessly pounded into you like a madman. You whimpered at the sudden change of speed, body going limp against the sheets as you struggled.

"Gonna make you carry my kids. Pump this pretty little pussy full of my cum," he snarled, seemingly lost in his own world and thoughts.

You moaned, instinctively clenching down on him at his words. Sunghoon cursed, hand snaking down to rub at your clit, timing it with his thrust.

"Yeah? You'd like that, don't you? Walking around in the office with everyone not knowing you're carrying my children," he cooed, voice lowering an octave.

You frantically nodded your head, too far gone and intoxicated on the feeling of his cock constantly hitting that one spongy spot hidden between your gummy walls.

"Mhm! Please, m-more-hah."

Sunghoon continued fucking into you at a faster pace, if that was even possible. The bed creaked at every movement with the bedframe slamming against the wall. He knows he'll be getting a complaint from the hotel staff tomorrow but that's for future him to handle. Now, he has a more important issue to settle. The issue that comes in the form of impregnating you.

It took a few more long and timed thrusts for you to feel your climax reaching.

"G-Gonna cum-pleasepleaseplease," you babbled, too cockdrunk to think straight.

Sunghoon took pity on you. "Yeah? You wanna cum, pretty girl? Then cum for me."

He delivered one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt and you cum while chanting his name like a sacred prayer. Your walls violently convulsed around him, milking him dry as body-length shudders traveled through your body. Sunghoon was quick to follow suit. He spilled thick and hot cum inside you, painting your gummy walls in the shade of his cum.

You grimanced at the uncomfortable feeling of being pumped full, able to feel how bloated your stomach felt afterwards. Sunghoon didn't pull out. Instead, he collapsed onto you with an "oof" and you made a disgusted sound, reaching out to weakly smacked the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Get off of me. You're gonna crush me to death," you retorted.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but obliged. He pulled out first, drawing a hiss from you and he laid beside you. None of you said a word, laying on the same bed, bodies covered in sweat and body fluids as you stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. You ended up breaking the silence, wanting to address the invisible elephant in the room.

"…So, what does this make us now?" You asked, not daring to look at him.

"What do you want us to be?" He countered.

"You're not supposed to answer my question with your own," you retorted.

He chuckled, reaching out to place his hand above yours. When you didn't push him away, he took that as a green light to intertwine your fingers together.

"I'd like us to be partners. Romantically."

You snorted. "No one says that, Hoon. It's actually boyfriend and girlfriend."

He furrowed his signature, thick eyebrows. "What's the difference? They still mean the same."

You let out a long, heavy sigh. "Never mind, forget it. But sure, let's be partners. Romantically."

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at you. "..You're mocking me, aren't you?"

You gave him an innocent look but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes said otherwise. "Me? I would never!"

He didn't budge an inch before pounching on you, fingers ruthlessly tickling your sides without a care in the world. You squealed, trying to push him away and shielding yourself but your efforts was futile. You can only make yourself small while he continued, your laughter and pleas of mercy bounces among the four walls of the room.

"S-Stop-pft-m-mercy-HAHAHA!" You exclaimed, gasping and heaving for breath with tears prickling your eyes.

Sunghoon stopped his tickling attack, only for him to lean forward with his hands now on both sides of your head, caging you against the bed. You stilled, locking eyes with him. He swallowed, eyes flicking down to your lips.

"There's something I need to tell you," he started.

"Well, that doesn't sound good," you teased—a poor attempt to lighten the atompshere."

He didn't react to your words.

"It's about the marriage the articles posted. I want you to know it's not real," he continued. Your heart dropped when you heard that. But despite it all, a part of you felt relieved.

"Oh."

He nodded, eyes searching for something in you. "Yeah, the marriage was set up by both of our families. They believed it's beneficial to both parties if the marriage goes through, in terms of business wise. My father also wants to use it to tie me down, so I won't do it again."

You frowned. "Do what?"

Sunghoon sighed, lowering his head before lifting them up again. "…The reason why I left without telling you was because I didn't know how to. The Parks—my family, is a line of business people. But I'm not like them. I wasn't interested in business. I was interested in law and that's something my parents refused to accept or acknowledge. No matter how hard they kept teaching me, I refused to accept it. It was torture, trying to learn something you didn't want to learn."

Your heart shattered at how small his voice became. You wordlessly reached out, cupped his face with your hands and he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"So I decided to risk it all, book a plane ticket to Australia and enrol myself in one of the law schools there. I didn't know how to tell you. It was out of a sudden. My brother found out about it and he supports me. My father, on the other hand, harshly rejected the idea. We fought before I left and he told me he'd let me go but in the future, whatever major decisions regarding my life is in his hands now."

Your eyes widened. "..And one of it was the marriage. It's to bind you to the Parks."

He glumly nodded.

"Oh, Hoon…" You sighed, craning your neck up to brush your lips against his in an almost-like kiss. He shivered at how heavenly the nickname sounds from you. The very same nickname he kept close to his heart since young.

"Your father's an asshole. It's your life, whether he likes it or not. He doesn't have a say in what you want to do," you continued.

"I know, which is why I'd be telling him to cancel the marriage tomorrow," he replied, determined.

You paused. "Uh, are you sure that's even possible? What about that fiance of yours? Will she be mad and upset?"

"Huh? No, why would she? She's just like me. Both of us didn't want the marriage in the first place," he pointed out.

"…Oh, okay," you mumbled, face turning as red as a tomato as you looked away.

It took him a few seconds to realize why and when he did connect the dots, he smirked teasingly. "Don't tell me you were jealous."

"I'm not!" You defended yourself, replying without hesitation.

"Mhm, sure. And I'm the president of Seoul," he answered with sarcasm seeping into his voice.

You shot him an annoyed glare, ready to shove him off the bed when he stopped you, grabbing both of your hands, causing you to stop.

"I love you," he confessed.

The words were raw and it's a deadly combination with the utmost sincerity in his voice. So deadly that it made you teared up. Seeing this, Sunghoon's features softened. He ducked his head so he can pressed his forehead against yours.

"Jeez, I guess you're still a crybaby huh," he teased.

"Yeah, but I'm your crybaby now," you fired back, voice cracking at the end.

Sunghoon blinked once. Twice before a wide smile stretched across his face from ear to ear.

"Yeah, you're mine. Forever and ever."

[sunghoon-my-dear]

I need a part 2! That was so so good

[sunishake]

BAD REPUTATION ✦ sjy

After your best friend is left heartbroken by the infamous campus legend Jake Sim, you make it your mission to teach him a lesson — the one he won’t forget until he’s practically begging for forgiveness. What starts as a simple plan quickly spirals into chaos, pulling you into a web of complications you never saw coming. Lines begin to blur, intentions get messy, and you realize things aren’t as black and white as they seemed. After all, a bad reputation is a heavy burden to carry on both ends, isn’t it?

content tags: tooth rooting miscommunication, enemies to enemies, y/n is the bitch we all aspire to be, angst, mid ass slow burn, college au, emotional turmoil, long ass fic, crack, blonde jake, campus romance (?), fake relationship, heejake if you squint.

# 1 shots

You and Chaerin had been inseparable for as long as you could remember, or at least that was the version of the story you held onto.

Same neighborhood which turned into same classrooms, same whispered gossip during lectures, same shared lunches when neither of you liked what your mothers packed. High school came and went with the same confidence that you would always orbit each other, and even now, in college, despite being in different courses, you still found your way back to the samecramped dorm room at the end of the day.

Sisters, practically. That's what everyone said, and for a long time, you believed it too. Which was why the shift felt so wrong when you finally discovered it.

"Chae, I told you..." Your voice faltered, as you stared at the two green glass bottles sitting on your desk like unwelcome guests. "I jus-no. Stop."

The room smelled faintly of graphite and eraser shavings, your half-finished architecture sheets spread across the desk in uneven layers. Lines and measurements blurred together demanding your attention in a way alcohol never could.

Behind you, Chaerin let out a soft, impatient sigh.

“Come on,” she groaned, dragging the word out as if coaxing a child. "It's just soju. You're acting like I brought poison."

You pressed your pencil down harder than necessary, it's tip snapping against the paper. The small, sharp sound echoed louder than your unsaid thoughts and hesitation "That's not the point," you muttered, not turning around. "I have to finish this. It's due tomorrow, Chae."

"And you will," she replied too easily. "After you relax a little."

You finally looked at her. She was sprawled across your bed, one leg dangling off the edge, her hair falling messily around her shoulders. There was a dullness to her eyes that hadn't been there before, a restless kind of energy, like she was always chasing something just out of reach.It unsettled you.

"I don't need to relax," you said, softer this time.

Chaerin clicked her tongue, sitting up with a suddenness that made you flinch. She grabbed one of the bottles, twisting the cap open with practiced ease "that's exactly your problem," she said, pouring the clear liquid into two mismatched cups. "always stuck in your head. Always working, always worrying...touche"

"I'm not-"

"You are."

You fell quiet.

For a second, neither of you spoke. The air shifted, subtle but heavy enough to feel. She held out one of the cups toward you. "Just one, please?" she said, her voice softening again, almost pleading now. "Drink with me."

You stared at the cup, then at her.

And that was the problem, wasn't it?

Chaerin wasn't just anyone. She wasn't a classmate you could brush off or a senior you could politely refuse. She was the person who knew exactly what your regular orders were, who could read your mood from the way you shut a door, who used to pull you out of crowds the moment you looked overwhelmed.

She knew you.

Which was why this — this insistence felt SO wrong.

"You know I don't like it," you said quietly. Her hand faltered for the briefest moment. Then she laughed, light and dismissive, "You've barely even tried," she said. "How would you know?" Your fingers curled slightly against your palm."I have," you insisted. "That one time, remember? With the seniors? I didn't even want to be there."

"Yeah, and you survived," she shot back. "See? Not a big deal."

"It was a big deal to me." The words slipped out before you could soften them. Chaerin's expression flickered as something unreadable passing through her eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. She leaned back again, taking a sip from her own cup instead "You're overthinking it," she murmured.

Maybe you were. Or maybe you weren't. Because this wasn't just about the soju. It hadn't been for months after that party. You could still remember the way she had bounced into your room that evening, excitement practically spilling out of her. Some rich kids from college were throwing it.

One of those infamous monthly parties everyone seemed to talk about in hushed, intrigued tones. You did warn her, just enough to let her know it wasn't your scene. Those places weren't as harmless as people made them out to be. That free flowing alcohol and dim lights and strangers with too much money and too little consequence rarely led to anything good.She had laughed it off

"chill y/n," she had said back then too.

She had wanted you to come with her. And you hadn't. You lied about going home for the weekend, packing a bag just to make it believable. You remembered the way she had pouted and tried to convince you one last time before leaving.

And you remembered the feeling of relief when the door finally closed behind her.

You weren't trying to control a grown girl like her and act like some strict parental figure. But something about that party had felt off. And when she came back, something about her felt off too. At first, it was small things. A new tone in her voice, certain impatience that hadn't been there before. Late nights that turned into early mornings. New people, new habits, new laughter that didn't quite sound like hers. You tried to ignore it.

Until ignoring it wasn't enough anymore. Now, sitting in your dorm room with unfinished assignments and a cup of soju being pushed into your hand, you couldn't pretend you didn't see the change or worse feel it.

"Chae," you said again, more carefully this time. "Why are you pushing this so much?"

She didn't answer immediately, instead, she took another sip, her gaze drifting somewhere past you, like she was looking at something you couldn't.

"It's just a drink," she said finally. But it didn't feel like just a drink.

Not when she looked at you like that....like—like she needed you to say yes. Not when it felt like saying no was slowly putting a distance between you that you didn't know how tocross anymore.

Your eyes dropped to the cup in her hand, then to the bottle on your desk, for a fleeting moment, a bitter thought crossed your mind.

You were tired of blaming the booze and over the top drunk horny adults for Chaerin's change, because certainty you knew Jake Sim deserved the full blame.

Okay hold on, rewind.

Whoooooo the hell was Jake Sim?

God, how badly you wished life worked in a way where you could just ask that one question and move on without facing any consequences. But nothing about Jake Sim was ever that simple. See he was well a reputation if you had to define him in the most brutally honest way possible. He was your typical upper class, introverted disaster with an ego that reached places even his money probably couldn't. The kind of guy people either obsessively adored or instinctively avoided and you had always been very comfortable being inthe second category.

A "community dick," was the most accurate description you could come up with after overhearing your classmates gush about his toenails and ball hair for what felt like the fiftieth time in one week.

bizarrely enough you never understood the obsession when you occasionally spotted him in the canteen, surrounded by his loud, obnoxious friends who seemed allergic to basic etiquette. Their laughter carried across the room, sharp and intrusive, making you instinctively shrink into your seat.

You had always silently thanked whatever higher power was looking out for you that Jake Sim was nowhere near your academic orbit. Different major, building and thankfully different world.

Perfect.

Except life, apparently, had a twisted sense of humor because while he stayed far away from you, he didn't stay away from Chaerin. Same department. Same classes. Same daily proximity. Bad news.

What confused you more was how Chaerin herself used to talk shit about him, ranting about his attitude, his arrogance, the way people bent over backwards for him like he was something divine energy. She gave you every unnecessary detail about him, every petty observation, every eye roll translated into words.

And then–It just... stopped.

Or worse, it flipped. Somewhere along the way, the same Chaerin who couldn't stand him started orbiting him instead. Watching his friend group like he had become something important and something she couldn't afford to lose sight of.

"Ah, fuck this shit."

The frustration finally spilled over and before you could second guess yourself, you grabbed the bottle from the desk and tilted it back, the sharp, burning liquid sliding down your throat in one reckless gulp. It burned god, it burned so good but you didn't stop until the bottle was nearly half empty.

"Girl-slow *hiccup* down-" Chaerin's words slurred together, as she tried to sit up straighter. Too late.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, blinking away the sting in your eyes. The room felt warmer now, heavier, like the air itself had thickened."See..." Chaerin muttered, her words dragging, uneven. "I know *hiccup* you might hate me... for this one..."You frowned, irritation flaring instantly "Oh my god, just say it already," your adrenaline snapped. "You've said that line like fifteen times today." Your patience was hanging by a thread. At this point, smashing the bottle on her head felt like a reasonable option.

"Okay... wait..." she mumbled, blinking slowly as if trying to catch her thoughts mid-air. "Uh... where was I...? Right... right... so, I know you–*hiccup* no, fuck–I know you will-"

Your grip tightened around the bottle.

This was it.

Whatever it was, you were done waiting.

"Jaaay*hiccup*ke—kissed me..." she slurred, the name stumbling out of her mouth, "... then... uh... we kinda had sex."

Your hand froze mid-air and so did everything else, your thoughts, your breath, the room itself felt suffocating.

"What?" you repeated, the word coming out flat,almost disbelieving. Then, because your brain refused to process it any other way, you let out a sharp, incredulous laugh "Oh, you mean you got drunk and slipped on his dick?" your tone dripping with disbelief. Chaerin shot upright, offended despite her state. "No-wait-I-I did ride him *hiccup* how di-OWH!" Her words were cut off by a loud crash.

The bottle left your hand before you even realized it, flying straight out the open window. The sound of it shattering echoed faintly from below."Y/n, bitch!" Chaerin scrambled toward the window, panic cutting through her haze as she leaned out, trying to see if you had just accidentally committed manslaughter.

"What the fuck-Y/n!"

You clicked your tongue, leaning back against the desk like nothing had happened "I know there's more to your story," you said coldly. "Go on."

Her eyes widened.

Gotcha! Did she really think she could drop something like that and leave it half-finished? Not to you. Never to you.

"Chae," you added, your voice quieter but sharper, "don't make me smash the second bottle on your head."

She swallowed. "Okay... so..." she began, fidgeting with her fingers. "We did it... and then... when I woke up *hiccup* I texted him..." Her voice wavered. And just like that, something in your chest tightened.

The bottle slipped from your fingers, forgotten. Oh no. You knew that tone. You knew those pauses. Before she could say another word, you crossed the room in seconds, stepping over scattered cushions and pulling her into your arms. She broke instantly, her body collapsing against yours as sobs wracked through her.

"Y/n..." she choked out. "He-he said he doesn't want to keep any connection with me anymore... it was just a one-time thing..."

Her words shattered between hiccups and tears, each one hitting harder than the last. You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly as you held her tighter, your hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. Of course it was this. You guided her gently toward the bed, sitting her down as you wiped her tears with your thumb, your movements careful. "Hey... hey..." you murmured softly. "easy..."

She clung to you like a coala.

"Is this why you've been drowning yourself in all these weird drinks?" you asked, your voice quieter now, softer. She nodded barely but it was enough. Enough for everything to click into place.

God.

A part of you wanted to scream and to say

'I told you so'

To remind her of every warning, every concern she had brushed off. To curse Jake Sim and every rumor that followed his name, because clearly none of it had been exaggerated. But you didn't. Because right now, she wasn't the girl who ignored your warnings, She was just your Chaerin hurting, and crying in your arms. And that mattered more than that stupid shit assed Jake with bad reputation.

The following week passed as you giving nastiest side eyes to jake while chaerin ignored both you and that group of monkeys like plague. You did not insist her to have forced conversations because poor girl needed time to re-collect her thoughts.

You carried it with you everywhere, through lecture halls, crowded corridors, even the quiet corners of the campus where you usually found peace. It sat heavy in your chest, simmering just beneath the surface, most evident in the way your eyes instinctively narrowed every time you spotted him. Jake Sim.

If looks could kill, he would have been long gone.

Chaerin, slipped in and out of spaces quietly, conversations cut short, laughter nonexistent. You didn't push her. As much as it irritated you watching her shrink into herself like that youunderstood. She needed time. Time to think, to process, to gather whatever pieces of herself had been shaken loose But that didn't mean you let him off easy.

Because while Chaerin withdrew, you sharpened. Jake, continued living like nothing had changed. His routine, as far as you could gather from Chaerin's previous backbitching sagas, overheard conversations and casual observations, was almost annoyingly consistent.

Jake's life was simple. Wake up late. Ignore half the messages in his group chat and the other half from girls he had probably promised something to. Drag himself to classes and somehow still remain the topper of the entire engineering department. Afternoons were reserved for his friends, loud and carefree in the canteen or on the basketball court. Evenings drifted between the library, the gym, and video calls with his brother Riki, except now there was one small disruption in that perfectly curated routine.

Your sharp unrelenting gaze burning holes through his thick ass head.

"Yo, she totally wants you."

Sunghoon snickered laced with amusement as he passed the basketball to Sunoo. The two of them moved with practiced ease, laughter slipping between them, just another joke. "Everyone wants him," Jay muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his forehead as he tried and failed to snatch the ball from Jungwon. "What's so surprising about that?"

Sunghoon scoffed, clicking his tongue. "Ugh, this time it's different—Sunoo here!"

Jake barely reacted. He sat on the edge of the court, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through pictures of layla, his dog that riki spammed that morning.

"Bro, I think you should ask her–oh shit..." The ball slipped from Sunghoon's hand with a loud thud. The rhythm of the game faltered because the sharp, unmistakable click of your heels had cut through the court like a warning. The air shifted as you approached, the boys' chatter dying down into something uncertain. You stopped right in front of him. "Mr. Park is asking for Sim Jake."

Your voice was calm but your eyes, however, never left his face.

"Why?" Jake asked, not even bothering to look up from his phone. Your lips pressed into a thin line "well, I didn't feel like entertaining your nonsense," you shrugged "So I skipped the part where I ask him Why"

Jay let out an irritated huff from behind you. "You're not even from our department. What the hell?"

Ignoring him completely you repeated "Mr. Park Soohyun is expecting Sim Jake in the sports office," tone blunt now. That got his attention.

Jake finally stood, slipping his phone into his pocket. He still didn't look at you, not even once, as if your presence alone wasn't worth the effort. "I'll be back," he said, tossing the ball toward Sunghoon. Then he walked past you.

And you followed. Not a word exchanged, just the sound of your footsteps trailing behind him.

The hallway should have been crowded at this hour. Between lectures and practice sessions, it was usually filled with noise — But today, it felt... off. A few students lingered here and there, one slumped against the wall, scrolling endlessly on their phone, another sprawled across the bleachers with a book covering their face, half- asleep. The rest of the corridor stretched ahead, unusually empty. And in the middle of it you followed a few steps behind Jake.

Your eyes, almost against your will, traced the line of his broad shoulders, then drifted upward to the messy blond strands of his hair. Then lower, the thin fabric of his shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, outlining the flex of muscle beneath it with every step he took. Your felt your throat drying as your gaze lingered a second too long.

What the fuck.

You blinked hard, snapping yourself out of it.

Have you actually just lost it?

Absolutely not. You dragged your eyes away, jaw tightening. This was not the time to notice things like that. You had a purpose. A very important, very justified purpose. And it definitely did not involve... whatever the fuck was that.

The sports office came into view at the far end of the hallway, tucked into a corner, door standing plain and unassuming, but you knew better. Mr. Park usually kept it locked ever since that incident with the stolen baseball bats. No one really talked about it much anymore, but the habit stuck. Except today It wasn't locked. Jake slowed down slightly, stopping just short of the door. You watched him inhale, before he pushed it open and stepped inside.

For a split second, it almost looked like he forgot you were there.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Park..." His voice echoed faintly from inside.Silence answered.

"Mr. Park?" he tried again, a little louder this time. "....is there anyone–"

Click.

The sound was small, almost insignificant. But Jake froze.

His head snapped toward the door just as it shut completely, the lock sliding into place with a finality that made your chest tighten with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"What the fuck?!" His voice sharpened instantly, his fist hitting the door hard. "Hey-open this!"

Outside, you leaned back slightly, your breath uneven, adrenaline rushing through you in waves. A bead of sweat slid down your neck, but you barely noticed. Because you were smiling. "Stay there and think about what you did asshole!" you called out, your voice carrying just enough to reach him through the door.

There was a brief pause, then the banging got louder. "Are you fucking serious right now?!" Jake's voice came through, muffled but furious as he shoved against the door, trying the handle again. "Open the damn door!" You bit back a laugh. He pushed harder, kicked once, then again, frustration bleeding into every movement. The rattling of the handle, the dull thud of his shoulder against the wood, it all blended into a chaotic rhythm behind you.And then your laughter slipped out anyway. You turned on your heel, the sharp click-clack of your shoes cutting through the hallway as you walked away, each step lighter than the last.Behind you, the banging continued.Jake Sim wasn't in control anymore and oh— He was soooo pissed.

"Students, it is unfortunate to note that the sports equipment robbery is still ongoing..."

Mr. Park's voice echoed across the cafeteria, cutting through the usual lunchtime chatter. You barely reacted, too focused on finishing the last piece of chicken nugget on your plate, chewing slowly taking your sweet time.

"People really have nothing better to do than rob sports equipment?" Chisa huffed, clearly annoyed, as she stretched her hand toward Jurin for her compact powder. "I mean... maybe that's what fills their bank accounts," Chaerin muttered absentmindedly. You glanced at her. She still seemed distant, less than before, but not quite herself yet. There was a softness to her voice now, like she was slowly returning but hadn't fully found her footing. Still, it was progress. And that was enough to make you smile, even if only faintly.

"Speaking of which," Jurin chimed in, pointing her chopsticks toward a certain table across the cafeteria, "I've only ever seen that group use the equipment anyway."

You didn't turn. You didn't need to.

Your heart, however, betrayed you — pounding just a little faster, as if it already knew exactly which group she was referring to. You kept your gaze steady, deliberately choosing not to look back. Instead, your eyes drifted toward Chaerin again. And just as you expected she was already looking at them. At him.

Her eyes lingered, slightly glossy, emotions flickering across her face in a way that made your jaw tighten.

You bit the inside of your lip. No.

You weren't letting this go. Not yet.

Not until Jake Sim was on his knees begging, apologizing, breaking the way he made her break. Only then would you consider letting it rest.

"Uh... earth to Jake Sim?" Jake's train of thought snapped abruptly, his brows furrowing as the overly high-pitched voice cut through his focus.

"Can you stop ignoring Evelyn?" the girl snapped, crossing her arms. "You were the one who promised to take her to the museum!"

Jake huffed, clearly caught off guard. Now who the hell had he promised that to?

Sunghoon cackled beside him, the sound only worsening the dull throb forming in Jake's head "Jake and a museum?" he slapped his thighs, laughter still rolling out "tell Evelyn to just print a cardboard cutout of him if that helps!"

The girl let out an irritated noise, clearly unimpressed, before turning on her heel and storming away.

Jake sighed, dragging a hand down his face as a string of curses slipped under his breath. Why was Decelis filled with such abnormal examples of humanity?

The rest of the week dragged on painfully slow as Jake buried himself in his studies, preparing for the upcoming midterms with an intensity that left little room for anything else. Notes, lectures, assignments, he drowned in them all, using the workload as a distraction. Occasionally, his phone would buzz with messages from Sunghoon and Jay usually something about clubs recruiting volunteers for their so called "public service"week.

Apparently, it offered extra credits. Not that Jake cared. His grades had always been flawless, consistent enough that he never had to worry about bonus points. Weekends, for him, were sacred and reserved for uninterrupted sleep and the occasional gaming session. And as far as he was concerned, this weekend would be no different.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Until his phone started going off. One call. Then another. Then another. Followed by a flood of messages.

Jake frowned, pulling his phone from his pocket. He usually kept it on silent, but for some reason he hadn't that day. And now, past 1 p.m, his screen was filled with an absurd number of missed calls. All from Sunghoon.

"What the hell...?" He finally answered, voice hoarse and clearly irritated.

"Bro, what the fuck?!" Sunghoon's horrified voice exploded through the speaker, loud enough to make Jake pull the phone slightly away from his ear. "Check the college website right now!" Jake blinked, still trying to process the urgency.

"What are you talking about-"

"The volunteering list is out!" Sunghoon cut him off, his tone bordering on hysteria. "And someone signed you up for the National Museum!"

Silence.

Jake stared at his phone then at the wall and then back at his phone

"...You've got to be kidding me."

Welp. There went his perfect weekend.

"Good morning! Welcome to the registration offic—oh... it's you." Sadie's voice dropped the moment she recognized you, her expression twisting into poorly concealed annoyance. Still, she quickly recovered, forcing on a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Uhm, how can I help you, Miss Y/n Y/l/n?" she asked, tone dripping with fake politeness.

You physically cringed at the way she said your name, clearing your throat before speaking. "Uh... Sadie, I noticed you were talking with Jake today”

"Ugh, don't even start about that asshole," she cut in immediately, emphasizing the last word while grinding her teeth.

She clicked her tongue in irritation before narrowing her eyes at you. "Also, why are you suddenly so interested in Jake Sim? Even that day, I noticed you giving him heart eyes like you wanted to unzip his chain and give the cafeteria a real volunteering show—"

You slapped your hand over her mouth before she could finish, head whipping in every direction to check if anyone had heard that. "Are you insane?" you hissed under your breath. Sadie smacked your hand away almost instantly "ew, what the hell?"

You swallowed hard, staring at her in disbelief. Can she just... disappear? Why was she this insufferable?

"Look, Sadie," you said, taking a steadying breath, trying very hard not to knock out her barely five foot frame, "I'm here as a peacemaker."

She raised a brow, clearly unconvinced.

"See, I know Jake ditched Evelyn for that museum date..." you continued carefully, choosing your words. "But he's regretting it now. He told me to register him for the volunteer program at the National Museum." Sadie gave you a blank face then she slowly looked you up and down, her lips curling into a mocking smile "Why the fuck would he tell a nobody like you what he's feeling?" she scoffed. "Since when are you sooo close to Jake?"

You bit the inside of your lip. Right. You expected that. Still, you didn't hesitate.

"I overheard him talking to his friends on the phone," you replied smoothly. "He said he really regrets what he did to Evelyn... and how he ignored you in the cafeteria."

That did it. You immediately saw the shift.Sadie stilled and there it was. That flicker behind her eyes. Hungry of Interest and validation she thrived on. If there was one thing you knew about Sadie, it was that she would drop all logic the moment attention came into the picture, especially if it involved someone like Jake.

And now? Now she was hooked.

You kept your expression neutral, though internally, you knew you had her exactly where you wanted. You gave a small shrug. "That's what I heard....and as someone who who admire Evelyn and you as my senior...I just wanted to help you all"

You noticed Sadie's smile getting bigger.

Then, slowly, she nodded to herself, as if piecing things together in her head "Uh... okay," she said finally, her tone shifting. "I'll set Jake and Evelyn in the same segment at the National Museum."

There it was. The opening you needed. And just like that your plan moved one step forward.

# 2 clickbait

Jake swore he was going to pass out at any moment if another child approached him with same ridiculous bullshit like why historical figures had small dicks. He dragged a tired hand down his face, exhaling sharply as he stared at the museum walls, silently praying for the worst possible downfall of whoever had put him in this situation. And somehow he knew EXACTLY who was behind it.

Evelyn's soft voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts.

"U-uhm... thank you, Jake," she said, her tone hesitant as she tried to tuck strands of her hair behind her ears, clearly attempting to hide how red they had become. "For... reconsidering our date. You really are a man of your word. I don't know why people make such weird assumptions about you, but—but I just wanted to let you know... I don't care about your bad reputa—"

Jake yawned blatantly.

See Evelyn was....fine. More than fine, actually. Pretty, soft-spoken, most people would easily fall for. He had noticed her before, maybe once or twice during calculus lectures, when boredom got the best of him. But that was it. Nothing more. He had known from the very beginning that the "date" she once asked him about, eyes hopeful, voice slightly trembling was never going to happen. Yet somehow, he had still said yes. Because Jake Sim never really thought twice before making promises.

And now here he was. Stuck babysitting a group of overly curious children in a museum, listening to questions that made his head hurt, while standing next to a girl who clearly thought this meant something more than it actually did. He suppressed a groan.

Is this my karma for not clearly rejecting people? The thought lingered, bitter and annoyingly accurate. But then another thought cut through.

You.

His jaw tightened instantly. The memory of the locked sports office, your voice, your laughter echoing down the hallway, it all came rushing back, sharp and irritating.

Who the hell—No What the fuck was your problem?

Because this? This had your name written all over it.

The soft pitter patter of rain against the glass window stirred Chaerin awake. She blinked slowly, adjusting her slightly fogged glasses as she lifted her head from the table. For a moment, everything felt hazy, her thoughts, her surroundings, even the time. How long had she been sleeping in the library? A dull ache settled behind her eyes as she straightened up, wincing slightly.

The table was cluttered with open books, scattered notes, and uncapped highlighters. Somewhere between all that mess. She fumbled around for her phone, finally finding it beneath a stack of questionnaires. Outside, the rain poured heavily, blurring everything beyond the glass into indistinct shapes. The rhythmic sound felt almostsoothing.

Lately, she hadn't been sleeping much in her dorm. For some reason, the library felt quieter and safer. More peaceful than her own room.

Did Y/n already go back to the dorm?

she wondered, pushing her chair back as she stood up.

Chaerin grabbed her umbrella, clutching it tightly in her left hand as she made her way out of the main building. The hallway was nearly empty. Most students had gathered near the entrance, waiting for the rain to ease before heading out. A few leaned against walls, some scrolling through their phones, others simply watching the downpour. Chaerin slowed down as she approached the gate.

And then she froze.

Her breath hitched.Leaning casually against a pillar stood a figure she knew all too well.

He looked... the same. Something about the moment felt different and almost like a miracle or as if sensing her presence, he looked up. Their eyes met and neither of them moved.

Not for longer than a second and then he adjusted his cap, pulling it lower to cover his face before pushing himself off the pillar. Without a word, without another glance he walked straight out into the rain.

"Wait! Ja—fuck!"

Chaerin stumbled forward, her umbrella slipping from her grip as it knocked into a nearby plant pot, sending it clattering to the ground.

"You look miserable as ever." Sunghoon's voice cut through the room as he glanced up, eyeing Jake from head to toe who stood there, completely drenched, water dripping from his hair, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his body. Jungwon giggled from the side. "His life has been nothing but a shitshow ever since his secret admirer showed up—"

He stopped mid-sentence. Jake's glare was enough "...Okay, I'll shut up," Jungwon muttered, raising his hands in surrender.

"She stole my umbrella," Jake said flatly.

There was a fake attempt to look for words of consolation as Sunghoon turned away covering his mouth, not wanting to spit the gum at Jake's face while having a crashout level laughing. And then, unfortunately, to picture it Jake searching for his ridiculous Spongebob umbrella and someone actually stealing it was not helping him to stay sane at all.

"...What the fuck happened to you?" Jungwon groaned as the door burst open again.

Another drenched figure stepped in. Water pooled on the floor as he walked in, completely soaked. "I had a bathroom emergency," Jay announced casually, pulling off his wet t-shirt and tossing his cap toward Sunoo.

Jake, Jungwon, and Sunghoon exchanged a long, tired look.

"Man, we've been friends for as long as I can remember," Jungwon started, narrowing his eyes. "Stop lyi-"

The sharp sound of Jay's room's door slamming shut cut him off and eventually silence followed.

Jungwon sighed "...Yeah, okay. Not asking."

"H–he won't even stop to talk to me... and would rather walk out in the rain... wahhhhhh y/nnnnn"

You let out a deep sigh, passing another tissue to Chaerin. She was sprawled across your bed again, her head hanging slightly off the edge, hair cascading down as she continued rambling between sniffles. Meanwhile, you sat on the floor beside her, your back resting against the wooden frame of the bed, your head tilted up as you stared at the ceiling. Her cries didn't stop.

You had genuinely thought things were getting better. Slowly but still, better. Chaerin had started showing signs of herself again, enough to make you hopeful. And you? You were doing your part, making Jake regret every second of his existence. Or at least, that's what you had thought. Your eyes shifted toward the corner of the room. The stupid Spongebob umbrella sat there, slightly tilted, almost mocking you. You had taken it earlier that day from his bag while he was too busy fooling around with his equally stupid friends on the basketball court.

A small victory.

But clearly not enough.

You clicked your tongue softly. Nah.

This wasn't working. You needed something bigger. Something that would actually hit him where it mattered, something embarrassing enough to make him crawl back and apologize to Chaerin. Something that would make him think twice before ever ignoring her again.

"Don't worry, Chae..." you murmured quietly, "everything will end soon."

Chaerin sniffled again, barely processing your words.

But you weren't really talking to her anymore. Because at that exact moment an idea formed.

A little unhinged maybe.

A faint smile tugged at your lips. Oh, Jake....you were so dead.

Getting Evelyn's number hadn't been difficult. Sadie practically handed it over without much effort. The two of them were always glued together anyway, so it barely took any convincing on your part. What was difficult was Evelyn herself. Convincing her that Jake was playing with her turned out to be far more complicated than you had anticipated. If anything, things had gotten worse. After setting them up to volunteer together at the museum, Evelyn seemed to have grown even more attached to him.

And that was a problem. Because no matter how obvious it seemed to you, she just refused to see it.

You exhaled slowly, leaning your head back against the bed.

So if she wouldn't see it you would have to make her see it. Your fingers tapped absently against the floor as your thoughts began to align, one by one.

There was only one way to do this. Jake's reputation.

That was your key. Every rumor, every story, every whisper that followed his name around campus it all existed for a reason. And now? You were going to use it.

Carefully and strategically you were going to play your cards right.

You scrunched your nose in irritation as you stared at the engineering major's schedule in front of you. Jake was — unfortunately far more studious than you had expected. It made no sense. How could someone juggle being a complete menace when it came to relationships and still manage to maintain such an academically perfect life? You clicked your tongue, zooming in further on the neatly organized routine that had been sent to you by his class representative, someone you had somehow managed to charm (or manipulate) into sharing the information. Honestly, even you were impressed with yourself.

"Monday no chance...Tuesday....three calculus classes oh my god...Thursday... no free period..." you muttered under your breath, scanning the list. "And who the hell attends classes on Saturdays—oh wait."

Your posture straightened slightly as your eyes caught something. There it was. A gap. Right after his electrical engineering class. Your lips slowly curled into a smirk.

Okay this was your chance "I need to corner him that day," you whispered to yourself, already reaching for your phone. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before you began typing, carefully constructing the message in your head. Every word had to be precise and believable.

You typed

Hi Evelyn, I got your number from Sadie! Just wanted to let you know Jake wanted to meet you near the second floor staircase this Saturday. He can't contact you since his phone is broken. Thanks.

You reread it once. Twice.

Perfect.

You hit send and a small, a satisfied breath left your lips as you leaned back slightly. You had enough information about jake to conclude the fact he barely checked his messages unless they were from his useless group of friends. Half the time, he didn't respond at all which meant there was almost no chance of him ruining your plan by accidentally answering Evelyn's question about his phone. Another advantage.

Everything was falling into place. You looked down at the screen again, your eyes immediately catching the small line beneath your message.

Read at 8:40 PM.

Your breath hitched slightly "Oh—" A quiet gasp slipped past your lips. That was quicker than expected and that worked in your favor too.

Jay rummaged through his desk, irritation evident in the way his fingers knocked against scattered items. His body felt like it was running on five blood cells like after nearly seven hours of continuous practice. His muscles ached, each movement reminding him just how far he had pushed himself. Jungwon’s voice from earlier still echoed faintly in his head— “What are you training so hard for?”

Good question.

He had never been this serious about basketball. He picked it up casually in his first year, mostly because of Jake and Sunghoon. It wasn’t like Decelis offered scholarships or financial support for sports anyway. So what exactly was he trying to prove?

He pulled open the second drawer of his cabinet, finally spotting the strip of painkillers tucked away beneath a mess of random trinkets and bills. Calloused fingers fumbled through them, pushing aside blister packs until he found the one he needed. And then his fingers touched something else.

A pair of hoop earrings.

He froze for a second, and just stared at them, unmoving.

The memory of that night crept in before he could stop it, the earrings...they kept getting caught in his shirt. He remembered how he had carelessly reached over, almost like an instinct and taken them off her while she was too lost in the afterglow.

Shit.

He didn’t even remember putting them or keeping them here. Jay's grip tightened slightly before he swallowed hard and pushed the drawer shut. He didn’t need them....did he?

His body fell back onto his bed, exhaustion finally catching up to him as he sank into the mattress.

“I hope you know how hard it was for Dad to pay your college tuition fees…”

Jongseong's voice echoed throughout his frontal lobe.

Of course. Park fucking Jongseong — the perfect twin. The ace. He always won, always succeeded, always made the right choices and was the only one their parents proudly spoke about. And Jay?Jay was just… Jay.

Average and impossibly stubborn. Never quite enough.

Getting into Decelis had been the only thing he had done right and now, even that felt heavy.

“Don’t do anything stupid that will tarnish our family name. I know you attract the wrong kind of people—”

“Ugh, enough,”

Jay muttered under his breath, head already hurting as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had always resented that brat. Jongseong's quiet superiority and that constant need to act like he knew better, like he was better, pissed him off on supersonic level.

People his age drank, partied, smoked, hooked up — Oh.

Right.

Jay exhaled shakily, dragging a hand over his face. No matter how much he wanted to forget it, he couldn’t. The memory of Jongseong's disappointed bitch face tangled with the image of his parent's inevitable hopeful expectations, clung to his bone like some kind of inherited disorder.

He really fell into the trap....didn't he?

“No way she followed you here.” Sunghoon’s voice dropped into a half-whisper as he nudged Jake’s arm, trying to pull his half assed attention away from the lecture. “What a crazy bitch,” he added under his breath. Jake didn’t respond immediately, instead his gaze shifted lazily toward where Sunghoon was pointing. Surprisingly he didn’t need to see your face to recognize you anymore. The small Kuromi charm hanging from your bag gave you away instantly, something he had noticed a few days ago when your presence had still felt…..coincidental?

Ugh. Nothing about you was never a coincidence to start with. You really were a bad omen for him.

Now? What is she trying to pull this time?

The rest of the class passed in a blur or maybe it just dragged, Jake couldn’t even tell anymore. His focus came and went, interrupted every now and then by the thought of you standing right outside.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, didn’t shut up and went on eating his eardrums, rambling about some stalking incident that ended up in murder few blocks away. Jake barely registered his words.

Murder? Uh oh...He didn’t think you had murder in your eyes. Whatever you were up to was far worse. Probably something that involved trapping him, torturing him, and dissolving his body afterward.

He shivered.

Outside, your patience was wearing thin.

“What the hell is he doing in there for so long?” you muttered, stomping your foot lightly against the ground as you tried to swat away a mosquitoes. You pressed your lips together and chewed on the inside of your cheek, irritation building with every passing second.

You had been waiting for this for an entire week. Planning, adjusting, calculating every move. There was no way you were letting this opportunity slip now.

The classroom door finally opened as students began spilling out one by one, voices overlapping, footsteps echoing down the corridor. And then Jake walked out last, his expression as blank and unbothered as ever, limbs moving in an excruciatingly painful speed. Sunghoon slipped away the moment he saw you, muttering something “I’m not getting involved in this mess.”

Before Jake could follow Sunghoon, you stepped forward. Blocking his path.

“Hi, Jake.”

He stopped, eyes flickering over your shoulder, then behind him, pretending to check if you were talking to someone else. Finally, he pointed at himself.

Ugh. Can he just die? His stupidly handsome — wait no, 'questionable' face remained unreadable as you crossed your arms, trying your best not to let your inner thoughts show “Evelyn wants to meet you.”

Jake stared at you for a second then let out a sharp breath, “do you think I’m some airhead running on low brain cells? At least come up with something new. How am I supposed to believe you after you fucking trapped me inside the sports room?”

You inhaled slowly “It’s okay if you don’t want to believe me,” you said, voice deliberately calm. “But she really did ask me to tell you she’ll be near the second-floor staircase.” You shrugged lightly, and then continued again “I mean…..you can ignore it. Totally up to you, just don’t get mad when Sadie starts her usual whining about you ditching Evelyn again.”

Jake exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair as he looked away. You weren’t entirely wrong. Sadie had been relentless ever since the museum incident, spamming him and trying to set him up with Evelyn for another date. And if what you were saying was true....he might need to shove a pencil up his ear, infact he could already hear her high pitched endless nagging.

God, no.

His gaze shifted back slow to you as he looked you over — braided hair, down to your hands… nails painted brown, slightly chipped at the edges.

His eyes moving shamelessly up and down your body made you flustered as you took a small step back, suddenly aware of just how openly he was checking you out. Jake clicked his tongue then, without another word said “let’s go.”

Bingo! You have him exactly where you wanted.

The walk to the second floor staircase was the most dreadful thing you experienced beside that one time in high school when you snuck out to meet your ex boyfriend at 2 am.

You took slow, steady breaths, trying to calm yourself. It’s okay… I am not the one getting into trouble today. Yet, despite telling yourself that, your eyes kept drifting back to Jake. Again and again. You didn’t want to look — fuck — but you couldn’t stop. He walked beside you with that same stoic expression, completely unaffected.

Wasn’t he even a little excited about meeting Evelyn?

Then again… why would he be? This was Jake, the guy who changed girls like onion skins. You clicked your tongue internally, forcing your gaze forward.

The staircase finally came into view, the stage where everything was supposed to unfold. It was tucked away, hidden from the usual corridor crowd, a place most students didn’t even notice.

Perfect....it won't be even that big of a drama —

Or at least...thats what you prayed for.

Before you or Jake could even step closer a figure came running out of nowhere. You barely had time to react before you were shoved aside, stumbling back as the person launched himself straight at Jake.

“Baby, I missed you so much!”

Your eyes widened.

Students lingering nearby turned instantly, attention snapping toward the scene unfolding in front of them.

Wait what? What the fuck?

Your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing. What is he doing here?! He wasn’t supposed to do this yet!

Jake, clearly caught off guard, stiffened as the almost 6ft figure clung to him.

“Okay what in the flying fuc—man, who are you?!” he snapped, trying to push him away, his voice filled with confusion and irritation. You stood there, frozen, mentally clutching your nonexistent pearls.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

This was going to go so wrong.

You had known Lee Heeseung since your very first day at Decelis. He had been…well kinda impossible to miss. You still remembered walking into your first lecture, only to see him sitting there all bruised and battered, yet completely unbothered. You could hell he was an anomaly. It didn’t take long for you to learn that Heeseung was a scholarship student — and a very highly respected one, personally recommended by his high school principal.

Professors seemed to favor him, though he never abused that advantage. Well… not openly, at least. Then there was his boxing gig which explained the occasional bruises, the late entries into class, and being absent for weeks.

But what truly stood out was how helpful he was. The projector stopped working? Heeseung would fix it. Someone's grandma died and they missed classes? Heeseung would send them notes without being asked. Breakups, academic stress, random life crises, he was always there, somehow involved in solving everyone’s problems like random side quests.

So when the idea of taking Jake Sim down first crossed your mind mid semester, there was only one person you could think of being part of your crazy plan...Lee Heeseung. The only problem? He was barely ever in class. And even when he was, he left the moment lectures ended, unless someone stopped him first.

But luck, for once, was on your side.

The day after you texted Evelyn, you spotted him in class sitting in the back. Focused on his Nintendo Switch.

You hesitated for a moment before approaching him “I… have a little favor to ask…”

Your voice came out softer than intended, almost swallowed by the quiet hum of the room. Heeseung looked up slowly, his face half-hidden behind a mask and hoodie. Only his large, curious eyes were visible as they settled on you.

You realized he was waiting for you to continue so you stepped closer.

And explained everything. EVERYTHING.

By the time you finished, he had put his switch aside, sitting up straighter.

“So…” you hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Will you help me?”

Heeseung studied your face for a moment, then a quiet, breathy laugh escaped him “sure,” he said casually. “But what do I get?”

You gaped.

What exactly could you offer someone like him?

You scratched your head, genuinely thinking and then your face lit up. Rummaging through your bag, you pulled something out before holding it toward him with a hopeful expression.

A strawberry band-Aid set.

“This could help a lot,” you said earnestly. For a second Heeseung just stared at it. Then he laughed again, this time louder. He gave you a thumbs up.

“Consider your work done, baby.”

# 3 payback

“How can you be so heartless? Oh my god…” Heeseung’s doe eyes and exaggerated pout would have been almost comedic if not for the absolute horror etched across Jake’s face. You glanced around nervously. People were gathering. Of course they were!

A few curious students had already slowed down, whispers spreading as more heads turned toward the scene. Within seconds, a small crowd had formed, drawn in by the tension like moths to a flame.

“Me?! Heartless?” Jake groaned, finally managing to shove Heeseung away. “I don’t even know you!” Heeseung staggered back slightly before casually running a hand through his hair, “Really?” he scoffed, tilting his head. “Then why were you ignoring my texts?”

Holy shit. You stared at him, stunned. Lee Heeseung had exceeded your expectations. Was he secretly a theatre kid or something? Why was he so good at this?

Before you could even process it, Heeseung’s head snapped in your direction, his expression shifting dramatically “was it her?!” he accused, pointing straight at you “you’ve been ignoring me for her?!”

You had to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing but then you followed his gaze and turned back.

Oh shit.

Evelyn stood there, right behind you. Her expression a mix of disbelief, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

“What?!” Jake’s voice rose again, panic slipping into it now. “I don’t even check texts from people I know!” He took a breath, trying to steady himself “look, I think you’ve got the wrong guy—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Heeseung cut in smoothly, his tone suddenly serious “after you told me you were still confused about us… that you wanted to experience a few more ‘dates’ before settling down?” The final blow.

A sharp, collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Somewhere behind you Sadie shrieked. Your eyes darted back to Evelyn, her face had gone pale.

Oh my god.

Jake let out a disbelieving scoff “first of all, get your script right—I don’t even swing that way!”

Heeseung stepped closer again, gripping his shoulder lightly “you weren’t saying that last week after you came back from your museum event and told me how boring it wa—”

Smack.

The sound echoed through the corridor. Evelyn’s hand had already fallen back to her side, her chest rising and falling rapidly as Jake stood frozen, a red handprint blooming across his cheek.

For a moment everything went silent. Then Heeseung let out a small yelp, stepping back immediately. “Oh wow… I’m dipping,” he muttered, already retreating into the crowd. He threw you a quick wink before disappearing completely.

Wait—What?! Just like that?

“You could have told me if you didn’t like me in the first place!” Evelyn’s voice cracked, rising higher with every word. Jake blinked, still processing. “Look, Evelyn, I—”

She stepped back, shaking her head.

“Ahhhhh, so the campus fuckboy is actually a closeted gay who refuses to commit to any woman so he can keep his secret male concubines” Sadie, of course pushed her way to the front, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear “Guys!” she called out to the crowd still waiting for another climax “have you ever seen Jake Sim publicly showing affection to anyone?!”

Whispers spread instantly.

Agreement, disagreeing, mixed up speculation with judgment of course.

Jake stood there, jaw tightening as he took a slow, controlled breath. He was done. So fucking done.

All he had wanted was a quiet break. Maybe grab something to eat. Maybe scroll through Riki’s messages and laugh at whatever tung tung tung sahur nonsense his brother was up to.

Evelyn’s quiet sniffles broke through the noise “I should’ve known…” she whispered, her voice trembling “There were other people… how did I not see this coming…?” Sadie immediately jumped back in “Exactly, Evelyn! How many more wom—oops, actually, how many more people are there, Jake? Huh? Your reputation exists for a rea—”

Enough.

Something in him snapped.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Legs told you to move, to leave, to get the fuck away and disappear before this spiraled even further out of control. But you couldn't.

Jake’s eyes found yours and something about the way he looked at you made your stomach churn. Wait…Why was he looking at you like that? Before you could think, he started walking toward you. Fast and long strides.

Oh no no no no — You turned, trying to slip into the crowd, but you couldn’t make it more than a step as his hand caught your forearm firnly. You yelped as he pulled you back, turning you to face him.

“I am not gay,” he said sharply, looking at Evelyn and Sadie “And I don’t know whatever the fuck that was.”

Your brain scrambled to catch up.

“But I sure as hell have something going on with her.”

“What—wait—”

You didn’t even get the chance to protest because in the next second, He pulled you in close. His frame towering over yours, overwhelming and leaving you no space to think, no space to breathe and then — His lips pressed against yours.

The bulb above your mind short circuited.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Evelyn and Sadie screamed at the same time. Your legs felt like jelly. Mind completely blank. All you could register was the warmth of Jake’s lips against yours, and the way everything around you seemed to blur into nothing.

Wahhh....is that....the pearly gates of heaven—

And just as suddenly as it began he pulled away. There was a faint, almost smug smile playing on his lips.

A look of victory it is.

He got you at last.

“You bitch!” Sadie’s voice cut through the moment. She stormed toward you, her hand already raised, ready to strike, but Jake was way faster. He stood between you and Sadie, body shielding your figure as his hand shot out gripping her wrist mid air before it could make contact.

“Be careful.”

His voice was cold. Not raised. Enough to make Sadie freeze. Then she yanked her hand back, jaw clenched tightly, eyes burning with fury. Without another word, she grabbed Evelyn’s hand “Let’s go, Eve. Both of them are shit faced.”

Evelyn didn’t argue or look back. The two of them disappeared into the thinning crowd, whispers trailing behind them as people slowly lost interest and drifted away.

And then the inevitable silence fell. Just you, Jake and your trembling lips. Your heart was racing so fast it hurt. You barely noticed the way he turned toward you again until you instinctively stepped back. Once....twice until your back hit the cold railing behind you.

No escape zone.

Your breath hitched as Jake stepped closer. Too close.

Before you could react, his hand came up, gripping your jaw firmly, forcing you to look at him. Your breath stuttered and for a second, everything slowed.

His face was right there. His eyes—Wait. Had his eyes always looked like that? So… attractive —Shit, the HELL were you thinking?

“I hope you enjoyed that kiss,” he said, voice mocking you.

Your chest tightened slowly “And now,” he continued, his grip loosening just slightly but not enough to let you pull away, “you’re going to do everything I tell you.” Your stomach dropped.

“Otherwise…” He paused and that smirk returned.

“…the cctv footage of you locking me in the sports office won’t take long to reach your dean.”

Your eyes widened. Fuck. What ?!

Before you could even process it, he let go. Just like that and adjusted his bag over his shoulder, completely unbothered, then walked past you without a second glance.

Leaving you there, utterly screwed.

“Can we talk?”

Jay’s hand paused, his pen hovering over the notebook as he looked up, eyes widening slightly when he saw Chaerin standing in front of him, her expression unreadable. The library was packed, students hunched over books and laptops, trying to squeeze in whatever they could before finals.

He inhaled slowly. So this was it.

After weeks of avoiding her, ducking calls, changing routes, pretending not to notice, he had finally been cornered.

“i guess,” he muttered, though it sounded more like surrender than agreement.

Chaerin pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. For a moment, she said nothing, her fingers resting on the edge of the table as if she was trying to steady herself “see…” she began, “I wasn’t aware of your… fuck and leave rule”

Jay’s jaw tightened slightly.

“And I know I’m probably being annoying as hell,” she continued, fidgeting with her fingers, “but….I thought—I thought maybe...we had something. You talked about your family… your brother—I mean I'm not complaining!—it's just–”

“I do that with everyone” his voice cut through her words, firm and unwavering. Chaerin stilled.

“And you weren’t the first girl to sympathize with me,” he added, not looking away. “Everyone I’ve had ‘something’ with had the same reaction.”

Something.

So that’s what she was to him. Just another 'something'.

“Jay, I—” she hesitated, adjusting her glasses again as they slipped down her nose. “I like you. A lot. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I don’t want to force anything…” The slight tremble in her voice was audible, “...I was just wondering… why did you stop talking to me? We were fine before that party, right?”

“I fuck and leave. Just as you said” his words landed bluntly.

Chaerin went quiet. An “oh” escaped her mouth sounding barely above a whisper.

“So… all this time…” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the table, “you just wanted to leave? Even before we…?”Jay’s fingers twitched under the desk. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Did he want to leave? His thoughts betrayed him — memories flickering through his mind. The lectures where she sat beside him, talking endlessly, distracting him in ways he never admitted he liked. The days she made him laugh when he felt suffocated by everything at home.

His silence stretched too long as Chaerin took it as her answer.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the floor “s–sorry for wasting your time, I guess…”

Move. Say something. Don’t just sit there stubbornly. His brother’s voice echoed in his head, mocking him.

But Jay couldn't move. His body felt heavy, rooted in place. Chaerin inhaled shakily “I really liked you, Jay,” she said, her voice steadier now, even if her hands weren’t “I’m sorry I was so blinded by it… I forgot to ask what you felt about me”

Liked. Did she not like him anymore? Was he really that easy to walk away from?

Chaerin didn’t wait for an answer this time before turning around and walking out of his sight.

You bit your nails relentlessly, eyes scanning the same line in your book for what felt like the hundredth time and yet not a single word registered. Everything was slipping out of your brain. What the hell had just happened? Why would Jake do that? And worse — What was going to happen now?!

You groaned, grabbing your pillow and pressing your face into it before letting out a loud, muffled scream “It’s my fault—it’s my fault, ughhhhh! Why didn’t I think about the cctv?!” you whined into the fabric, your voice coming out distorted. This had gone so utterly out of control. Nothing—nothing—had gone according to plan and on top of that, Heeseung’s useless entrance at the worst possible time, followed by his equally useless disappearance, had left you even more irritated.

You flopped onto your back, staring at the ceiling before your eyes drifted toward your phone lying lifeless beside you. Switched off.

You hadn’t dared to turn it on since morning knowing notifications would be flooded, messages, missed calls, blah blah and at least half of them would be from Sadie, probably cursing you, your ancestors, and your entire bloodline and perform some sacrificial ritual.

You groaned again, throwing an arm over your eyes.

A sudden knock on your door snapped you upright.

Your heart jumped into your throat. Oh shit.

Did Sadie come to kill you? No, no, no—this is too early—another knock came, louder this time. Fuck. She’s going to murder you.

Your palms grew sweaty as you slowly got off the bed, taking cautious steps toward the door. Each step felt heavier than the last. The knocking grew impatient. You gasped softly, grip tightening around the doorknob. Okay. This is it. You twisted the lock and pulled the door open —

Chaerin!

Relief flooded through you so fast your knees almost gave out.

“Ooouf—thank god…”

You stood there for a moment, just staring at her, trying to gather the right words.

“Jake kissed me.”

“I finally talked to Jay—wait, WHAT??”

crickets....

Your eyes widened as Chaerin stepped inside, quickly locking the door behind her “what the fuck do you mean Jake kissed you?!” she gripped her hair, pacing the room. “I’m going to commit arson on that bitch oh my god!”

Your mind went completely blank as you tried to process everything at once.

Wait....why was Chaerin so furious at Jake? Wasn’t she… heartbroken over him? And — Why did she say she talked to Ja..…y.

Oh.

Oh.

Wait.....wait a damn second.

“y/n, answer me!” Chaerin shoved you lightly, her eyes blazing. “What in the world happened?!”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry “C-Chae…” you stammered, “who was the person you said you slept with at last month’s party…?” Chaerin groaned in frustration “Ugh, I told you—it was Jay! But that’s not important right now, first of all—”

Her voice started fading into the background as your slow ass brain finally caught up. You felt your legs giving up as you sank onto the mattress, hands coming up to clutch your head.

Jay. Not Jake.

Chaerin was hung up on Jay, not Jake.

Your dumbahh confused both the J’s and in the process you had created an absolute disaster. A soft gasp escaped your lips as the realization hit you fully. Oh my god. All this time…Everything you planned…every move you made, instead of helping Chaerin you were just embarrassing yourself.

“Helloooo??? Earth to y/n? Are you even listening?” Chaerin’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, laced with concern. You looked up at her slowly, your expression somewhere between horror and disbelief “Chae…” you said weakly, running a hand through your hair

“I think I might’ve done some irreversible damage…”

Getting into Decelis was something you had always been proud of. Being a scholarship student, getting the chance to major in architecture, the one thing you had dreamed of throughout your teenage years was more than enough. It was everything you had worked for and yet now you found yourself counting down the days to graduation. Or worse. To drop out without telling anyone. More importantly There was no one to blame but yourself.

You knew that.

You had spent the entire afternoon explaining Chaerin the absolute mess you had created, while looking up “painless kms methods” on your browser, only to slam your laptop shut seconds later.

“Y/n… I fear even I can’t get you out of this situation…”

Chaerin’s helpless voice echoed in your mind, and your chest tightened as another wave of emotion hit you. You let out a broken cry what, the fifth time today? You had lost count.

Now, sitting in front of your laptop again as the screen glowed harshly in the dim room, feeling less like a device and more like some kind of execution platform, your eyes remained fixed on a single message that came just a few seconds ago from an unknown number. Or at least you pretended it was unknown and you definietly didn’t recognize who it could be.

Anything to convince yourself this wasn’t real.

— Boys’ dormitory, third floor, room number 15. Come within five minutes.

Your gaze slowly shifted toward the digital clock on the wall.

1:00 a.m.

A dry laugh escaped your lips. Right.....What business could someone from the boys’ dorm possibly have with you at this hour? Hahaha…Such a silly prank.…ha.…ha....ha....

The silence that followed felt unbearable. You exhaled shakily, dragging a hand down your face. Yeah no.

This wasn’t a prank anymore. Which meant you had no choice but to go. Because if you didn’t — The next message you might receive would be directly from the dean’s office.

The trip to the boys’ dormitory felt like you were willingly walking straight into hell. Surprisingly, getting past the guards wasn’t difficult as they were sound asleep, completely unaware of your existence. Soon enough you found yourself standing in front of the door, with a metal batch of the number '15' on it.

You rubbed your sweaty palms against your jeans and lifted your hand, about to knock.

The door swung open.

Jake stood there, fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet, blonde strands clinging to his forehead. You could practically see the faint steam rising from his skin. The scent of his shampoo or body wash hit you instantly, clean and sharp, making your head feel oddly light.

“Oh?” he raised a brow. “Right on time. I was just about to notify your dean.”

The smugness in his voice made you want to turn back and leave. Before you could respond, his eyes flicked left and right down the hallway. Without any warning he grabbed your elbow and yanked you inside.

The door shut behind you with a click.

Your brain immediately fogged. Is he going to kill me? Or not? Every alarm bell in your head went off as you stood frozen for a second before forcing yourself to follow him further inside.

You had never been inside the boys’ dormitory before. Well—obviously you had never had a reason to. But everything you had heard was true. The space was bigger, more open compared to the girls’ dorms. Instead of separate rooms, a few boys shared one large living area with individual bedrooms branching off. You followed Jake through the common space, your eyes scanning everything instinctively. Unwashed dishes piled up in the sink. A gaming controller lay abandoned on the floor “Shit—” you muttered under your breath, almost tripping over it, catching your balance just in time.

You passed by three other closed doors, assuming they belonged to his friends, before finally reaching his room. Jake stepped in first, then you. And the door shut behind you again.

This is it. He’s going to kill you and put up your kidneys for friday sale. You stood awkwardly near the entrance as he nudged a gaming chair toward you with his foot. The wheels rolled softly until they bumped against your legs.

“Sit.”

You couldn't.

Meanwhile, Jake casually dropped onto his bed, completely at ease, “sooo…” he dragged out, resting back on his hands. “What should we do with you, miss...?”

"y/n..." you answered then swallowed, fingers fidgeting nervously as your gaze wandered everywhere except his face. His room was annoyingly spotless.

“okayy let’s start from the beginning,” his tone shifted slightly. “and clear our bad blood.”

You could feel his eyes on you, waiting. You took a deep breath. Whatever happens, happens. “See… I’m sorry,” you began “I mistook you for someone else and—and I didn’t realize it until I—”

He huffed, cutting you off “I’m not an idiot, y/n...I knew you mistook me for someone else the moment you locked me in the sports office,” Jake clicked his tongue, leaning back on one elbow. His gaze dragged over you again in that same shameless way.

“I just didn’t realize you’d be bold enough to drag it out this long.”

You wanted to disappear. This was so humiliating that you briefly considered jumping out of the third floor window.

“Now that the damage is done,” he continued casually, “let’s discuss what happens next.”

Your head snapped up. “Next?”

There’s a next?!

Jake stood up and walked towards you. Your body instinctively stepped back until your legs hit the gaming chair behind you, causing you to fall right into it with a soft thud.

“You,” he pointed at you, “are going to act like my girlfriend.”

Your brain stopped functioning.

“As long as I say,” he added. “And we—yes, WE—are going to make Evelyn jealous until she comes back to me.”

Your head spun. This can't be real.

“And everything in this relationship, will go according to my rules. My conditions.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“Unless,” he added smoothly, “you decide you don’t want to do this and also don’t want to graduate with a proper degree.” Your stomach dropped “I can always send that footage to the dean—”

“No!” you blurted out, shooting up from the chair. “I—I’ll do it!”

Silence followed. Jake studied your face carefully, his eyes scanning for hesitation, doubt, anything that suggested you might back out. After a moment, a satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Good—savor the moment while it lasts”

Lying on your bed, you traced random patterns over your bedsheet, fingers moving absentmindedly as your mind refused to settle. Sleep was nowhere to be found. Your brain felt heavy as hell as your eyes flickered toward the digital clock.

4:00 a.m.

Another sleepless night. Another hellish week. And, of course — another hellish fake boyfriend who made sure you regretted every second of taking admission in Decelis. It had been almost two weeks since Jake “proposed”– no, forced this whole pretend relationship onto you, all for the sake of making his darling jealous. At this point, you were convinced it wasn’t even about her anymore. It felt personal grudge against your entire bloodline.

You groaned, rolling onto your side. Well, technically...it was personal.

Going to college had turned into a daily humiliation ritual. No matter where you went, lecture halls, corridors, cafeteria, Jake was there, reminding you of what an absolute joke your life had become. And the college? Oh, they were having the time of their lives. The forum buzzed nonstop with rumors about you being Jake’s new babe. Your classmates flocked around you like flies, throwing questions left and right from how does Jake wipe his ass to what the hell did he even see in you?

Disrespectful as fuck.

You had been avoiding the engineering building entirely, convinced Sadie might have already hired an assassin to take you out. You shivered, fingers brushing over a spot on your neck absentmindedly.

“Girl… I think you need to see a doctor,” Jurin sighed, grabbing your hand in concern.

“This could be an early symptom of cancer, who knows,” Chisa added still munching on a drumstick, earning dead glares from both Chaerin and Jurin. You huffed.

Honestly, being hospitalized didn’t sound that bad right now. At least Jake wouldn’t be able to drag you around.

“…So,” Chisa spoke again, completely unfazed, “how is Jake as a boyfriend?”

You groaned loudly, dropping your head back. The worst. Absolutely the worst.

He would call you at the most ungodly hours, 3 p.m., 3 a.m., it didn’t matter, interrupting whatever you were doing just to summon you to his room. For what? To turn on his computer. To clean his desk. Which, by the way, was already clean most of the time. Being Jake’s girlfriend—no, fake girlfriend felt like a full time ragebait experiment. And yet you thought, would he treat you better if you were his actual girlfriend?

What the fuck? No. Absolutely not.

Why were you even thinking that? Who in their right mind would want to be his girlfriend?

He was just an asshole with a good face. That’s it.…Okay, fine. Maybe a very good face.

You squeezed your eyes shut, annoyed at yourself and your eyes which unfortunately worked. Which meant you noticed stuffs. Like the way he looked on the basketball court, focused, sharp, effortlessly attractive.

Or the times you’d find him in his room, sitting casually and completely absorbed in his phone as you sneaked glances while cleaning his basketball tournament trophies.

Or the way he walked just ahead of you in the corridor, his tall frame practically swallowing your smaller one.

You exhaled deeply. This was getting bad. Very bad.

“Oh my god… she’s lost in the exclusive Jake sauce,” Chisa whispered and Chaerin smacked her arm instantly.

# 4 fatal trouble

“Are you purposely ignoring me or what?” Jake’s annoyed voice snapped you back to reality. You crossed your arms, already irritated by the heat and by him. His furrowed brows weren’t helping either. Why the fuck does he looks so attractive with an ugly expression like that the FUCK????

He had called you multiple times until you were forced to pick up in the middle of a lecture, no less which earned you a scolding from Professor Min in front of the entire class.

“I’m not,” you replied shortly, your tone flat. You knew if you said anything more, you might actually punch him. Jake didn’t bother arguing, instead, he tossed his bag at you. Which you caught it out of reflex, immediately sliding it over your shoulder.

God....did he carry bricks in this thing?

“Let’s go,” he said, already turning away. “We have somewhere to be.”

Which is how you found yourself stuck in some godforsaken café, whose interior design alone announced that they sold tasteless stuffs at horrible overpriced rates. Girls sat all around, looking as pretty as ever in their cute tank tops, skirts, jeans, and frilly bow clips, honestly, the only thing making the place somewhat bearable even though, you were still judging hard the questionable boyfriends they had brought along.

Evelyn and Sadie were seated near the window, surrounded by their friend group. Yunjin...ahyeon...daniel...You recognized a few familiar faces from the mechanical engineering department.

You weren’t sure if they had noticed you yet — or were just choosing to ignore you, but Evelyn had definitely noticed Jake who was sitting right across from you. His back faced her, hiding you perfectly from their line of sight.

Jake slid the menu toward you and you shook your head

“not hungry.”

He rolled his eyes “then pretend you are. Don’t embarrass me anymore in public, don’t you think once was enough?”

You screamed internally and flipped open the menu anyway.

What the fuck. 23 dollars for a frappuccino???You immediately snapped the menu shut.

that amount of money could feed you for days... there was no way you were ordering—

“uhhhh, two frappuccinos....and extra whipped cream on both.”

You froze.

Jake had already placed the order, completely uncaring of your internal crisis as you stared at him, mouth slightly open.

Is this it? Is this the part of fake dating where they pay for your food? I mean… not that you were complaining—

“Close your mouth, dimwit. You really do love attention,” he muttered causing your cheeks to hit up as you quickly looked away “whatever”

this was nothing like what you had imagined?? First of all, how the hell was sipping overpriced coffee with Jake supposed to make Evelyn jealous? Did he even have a plan? At this rate, you’d be fifty by the time anything happened, probably with heart problems from stress.

You hummed a random tune under your breath, absentmindedly playing with your straw, trying to distract yourself.

Your eyes drifted toward Jake out of habit. He was scrolling through his phone, as usual, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You swallowed, the sweetness of the frappuccino did nothing to calm the sudden goosebumps on your skin. Why did he kiss me that day? Ugh… it’s his fault I can’t fucking look away from his lips the FUCK?

At the table beside you, some guy was making weird faces and feeding his girlfriend, and you couldn’t help but cringe. Wasn’t Jake supposed to be doing stuff like that to make Evelyn jealous? Whatever. Not your problem anyway—

You gasped slightly as Jake suddenly stood up and dragged his chair right beside yours, drawing a bit of attention,

including from Evelyn’s table.

You kept your head down, pretending to focus on your drink. Should you say something? Do something? This was so confusing. Minutes passed and you sensed Evelyn and her group getting closer, the clique clack of their heels on the hard wood floor, echoing through, you relaxed when she didn’t even spare you a glance and started heading toward the exit. Thank go—

Suddenly Jake’s hand moved from his cup to your left thigh, gripping it without hesitation. He squeezed lightly, too close to the hem of your skirt, his fingers brushing dangerously near your inner thigh.

“Eek!” you yelped, startled.

The sound drew immediate attention including Evelyn who turned and her eyes locked onto your flustered expression then they slowly travelled to Jake’s arm resting casually under the table, and his hand still wrapped around your thigh.

Shit shit shit.

Sadie wasted no time and grabbed her arm, pulling her away to the exit. The rest of the girls threw you strange, judging looks before following her out. Silence fell over your table. You could hear your own heart pounding violently in your chest.

The warmth around your thigh was gone the moment Evelyn walked out of sight. You sat there, heartbeat in your throat, and sweating crazy underneath the air conditioning machine. “Bill, please,” Jake called casually, handing his card to the waiter. “For one frappuccino.” Wait—what? You grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide. “What about me?!” He glanced at you, dragging his gaze up and down before shrugging. “I don’t know. I asked what you wanted—you couldn’t decide, so I ordered the same for both of us. Doesn’t mean I’m paying for both.”

You stared at him in disbelief. This was getting SO ridiculous. You quickly fumbled through your bag looking for your purse and shoved some crumpled notes into his hand before standing up and storming out.

God you just wanted to die.

Jake had officially pushed you to the point where you discovered strands of grey hairs growing from your roots. “Ouch!” you winced as Chaerin tugged at one absentmindedly. “Girl… trust me, no one cares. Damn, this one’s stubborn.” You bit your lower lip, trying to ignore the sting. “I care! What if people think I’m some kind of weirdo grandma going after a college guy?!”

Chaerin rolled her eyes. “You trapped yourself, at the end of the day.” You shot her a glare “I did everything for you, and this is how you repay me?!”

All she did was sigh “my dumb, pretty y/n… maybe if you had listened to me carefully NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE HAPPENED!”

You pouted. “Yeah, yeah. Everyone hates me, I get it.”

Between Jake and your coursework, the pressure of getting bullied by both was becoming unbearable. You let out what felt like your hundredth groan of the week. “Can this just end, god…”

Thud!

A basketball smacked straight into your head. “Ow!” you yelped looking up instantly, Jake stood there, amusement written all over his face “stop thinking so hard, dimwit. Take life easy,” he said, giggled and you swore you wanted to break his face.

Grabbing the ball, you threw it back at him with full force. “Suck it, Jackass.”

He caught it effortlessly, raising a brow. “Oh? Making progress, huh?” You stood up, brushing dirt off your jeans. Enough. It had already been over two hours. Jake had dragged you here because apparently Evelyn was supposed to watch the practice for new cheerleading recruits, but neither she nor any cheerleaders had shown up. Instead, you had been stuck watching him practice alone and getting harassed relentlessly.

He tossed the ball at you again but this time you caught it cleanly. And somehow that turned into a full blown game back and forth. Again and again. You hadn’t played basketball seriously since high school, but with Jake, everything felt different. Competitive and definitely Intense. No way you were leting him get out of the court without smashing his nuts with that ball–wait that's sounds weird but anyways.

It went on until both of you were completely out of breath. Jake finally dropped to the floor, legs stretched out, chest rising and falling rapidly. You laughed breathlessly. “Wha....t? Tired already?” He rolled his eyes “look at yourself first”

You both fell into a quiet pause, just staring at each other. And suddenly that same awkward, flustered feeling crept back in. “M-my dorm has a curfew today… I need to go,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear and started stomping towards the exit ready to leave. But before you could your foot caught on his stretched out legs.

“Ah—!” gravity pulled you down without giving you the chance to realise what just happened as a pair of strong arms caught you perfectly, landing right on top of him.

Your brain short circuited. From this close, he looked… unfair. His eyes slightly hooded, face flushed from exertion, and breath warm against your skin. You didn’t even notice the sweat trailing down your neck, hair just a mess and fingers tightly clutching his shirt. All you could focus on was him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His gaze locked onto yours then slowly dropped to your lips. Your felt your heart skipping a beat. And before you could think you leaned in. Just a little closer, just this one time, jusssstt this once — Jake’s hand shot up, gripping your jaw, stopping you instantly.

Oh.

The doors burst opened and instantly gasps and low whistles filled the court.

Reality doubled down back into you. You scrambled off him immediately, heart racing, refusing to meet his eyes. Your gaze landed on the group that had just walked in.

The cheerleading team.

And right in the center — Evelyn.

Her glare was unpleasant. Great....just great. Sunghoon and Jay, who had come along, ran up to Jake, laughing about something you couldn’t even process. Jake, however, stayed seated, his expression unreadable. You didn’t wait another second. Grabbing your bag, you turned and stormed out.

“Oh my god… oh my god, fuckkkkkk fuckkkkk what was I thinking?” You smacked your cheeks repeatedly, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The girl staring back looked just as frustrated and flustered. Cupping your face you tried to sum up what the fuck was going on “y/n, get it together ugh!”

There were levels to your breakdown, and you were currently crossing every single one of them.

The image of jake being breathless and his warm breath against your face replayed again. His half lidded eyes drifting from yours to your lips.

Nope.

You turned the shower on. This couldn’t be happening rn. What the hell was his problem?No, more importantly, why did you lean in to kiss—“No! The fuck—never!” you shouted, trying to convince yourself as your fingers brushed over your lips, you nearly cried in frustration. Embarrassment seeped into your veins as you remembered his grip on your jaw, the only thing that had stopped you from completely humiliating yourself.

“Am I a slut?” you whispered, then let out a loud laugh. “Hell nah. How am I a slut for wanting to kiss my boy…friend…”

You trailed off. Oh... Right.

“Soooo… what was that?” Sunghoon grabbed Jake’s jaw, puckering his lips in an exaggerated kissy face “getting all lovey-dovey with your girl, aww—Fuck—AH!” he yelped when Jake kicked him under the table. “Can I eat my damn dinner in peace?” Jay muttered, already irritated by their dogfight since they returned. Sunghoon laughed, wiping the corners of his eyes. “Man… why are you even wasting your time on her?” He paused, then leaned forward “…no way. Don’t tell me you like her.”

Jake scoffed immediately “she isn’t even my type, the fuck? And how can I just let her walk away after the shit she pulled on me last month?” He crossed his arms, gaze drifting past Sunghoon toward the depressing white walls of their dorm “she pisses me off,” he added after a moment “in a good way. And I’m not letting her walk out until I get my satisfaction.”

Sunghoon leaned back, raising his hands in surrender. “Alrighttt. Do whatever you want—just don’t break the poor girl’s heart.” Jake ignored him, focusing back on his food.

Your next meeting with Jake wasn’t awkward for him. But for you? Oh you were a mess. You kept stammering, stumbling over your words, avoiding eye contact so obviously that even Jake noticed. “Are you sick?” he asked, casually licking his popsicle. You stared straight ahead, your mind screaming 'whatever you do, do not look at him'.

Your own popsicle had started melting in your hand within minutes.

Why was it suddenly so hot? And why did Jake even buy me one? He wasn’t that generous....was he?? Is he making fun of me rn? Oh god, he definitely is. I should just dig a hole and bury myself.

Jake sighed, clearly losing patience. He scooted closer, the bleacher suddenly feeling way too small as his thigh brushed against yours.

“N-no! I’m fine! I’m not sick!” you blurted out, forcing an overly bright smile. He grimaced “ew… what is that expression? I don’t believe you at all” before you could react, he leaned closer. His arms rested on the back of the bleacher, caging you in “hey…” he frowned slightly.

“Are you planning something behind my back again?”

His eyes locked onto yours, and you swore they were going to swallow you whole. You shook your head quickly. “…No.”

“No…?”

“No—”

Jake suddenly lifted his popsicle toward your mouth “lick.”

Your brain went blank. “What—no! I have my own—”

He pushed it closer anyway, smearing a bit of that melted cream at the corner of your lips. You froze instantly as his smug expression only made it worse. “Oops,” he muttered, mockingly. “So sorry, baby.” You felt your stomach flipping as a thumb came up, brushing against your lip to wipe the cream away — his rough fingertip lingered just a second too long. And then he brought that same thumb to his mouth. Licking it clean.

You heard faint shrieks from nearby girls, but they barely registered because your eyes had already caught something else.

Evelyn.

She was standing near a pillar, trying to hide, but her unmistakable stare gave it away.

Shit.

“I—I have class,” you rushed out, scrambling to your feet. “Evelyn saw us, I think my job here is done—” You backed away quickly when Jake tried to grab your wrist

“What—?” He turned, trying to spot Evelyn.

But by the time he looked back you were already gone.

What was happening? Why were you suddenly so nervous around Jake? He had always been the center of your rants and main topic of shit talking sessions between you and Chaerin. You had cursed him out more times than you could ever count. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this… right?

So what if he wasn’t the one who caused Chaerin’s breakdown? He was still an asshole for using you like this.

But then again… what you did to him wasn’t exactly justified either.

“Ugh…” you groaned softly, pressing your fingers to your temple. Everything was making your head spin.

“Good morning to Miss y/n? I hope you’re alright back there.” Professor Min’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You blinked, suddenly aware of the classroom and the number of students who had turned around to look at you.

“…what? Did Jake dump her already?”

Your jaw clenched. I can hear you, assholes.

As exam week approached, you prayed to every god you could think of that Jake would at least spare you. And surprisingly he did. He left you alone for the most part. There was no tortures except the occasional insulting text or sarcastic remark, nothing that actually disrupted your study schedule. There were only a few days left before your first exam, and Jake had practically gone MIA. By now, you knew he took his GPA seriously.

Not like you were missing him or anything.

“Why does the syllabus look longer now…? I swear it wasn’t this big before…” you muttered, flipping through your notes that looked like new discovery when you were so damn confident about your preparation.

“Whoa, easy, princess. You’re going to rip the book apart.”

You froze. That voice—You looked up and gasped “wha— It’s you!”

A few heads turned in annoyance, reminding you instantly that you were in the library. Oops. You mouthed a quick sorry before lowering your voice, eyes narrowing at the person who had just taken a seat beside you “Lee fucking Heeseung, what the hell…” you whispered. He covered his mouth, trying to suppress a laugh. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Well, that’s because you literally disappeared after that incident!” you whisper yelled, making him sigh. He casually rolled up his sleeves and started taking out his books. “I had stuff to do.”

He shot you a wink, and annoyingly you couldn’t help but find it a little cute. Okay, fine. It was hard to stay mad at him.

“Want me to help you out?” he asked, glancing at your open notebook. “I know this chapter.” Relief washed over you instantly. “Yes, please.”

“Wahhhh, that was so easy!” You stretched, letting out a satisfied yawn. Heeseung nodded “I told you it wasn’t that hard.”

You started packing your bag while he slowly gathered his things as well. Then you paused. “Wait… aren’t you going to study? All you did was explain everything to my slow brain.”

He shrugged casually. “I studied too—in the process.” You nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Then… see you, I guess. Good luck!” you said, giving him a thumbs up. But before you could walk away, he grabbed your bag strap, stopping you in your tracks “and what do I get for tutoring you?”

You chuckled, already reaching into your pocket, pulling out the same strawberry designed band-aid, you held it out to him. “Here. Restock your supplies.”

Heeseung burst into laughter as he took it from your hand. “Sure thing.”

Jake wasn’t replying to your texts. You stared at the last message you had sent him two days ago still sitting there, untouched. You scoffed. It wasn’t like you were worried or anything. Or maybe… you were. You sighed and started typing again.

You okay?|

ew that sounded way too concerned.

You quickly erased it and tried again.

Is our deal off?|

no...what if he sees that and decides to pull something even weirder during exam week?

You groaned softly, deleting the message once more before turning your phone off entirely. This felt…weird. Just a few days ago Jake’s texts felt like notifications of doom and despair. You hated them. So why did his silence feel worse?

You stared down at your nails. The half chipped nail polish you had been nervously chewing off looked as awful as ever. Should I get a manicure? But… Chaerin wasn’t free. Chisa and Jurin were probably busy too. So what? You could go alone. Why were you waiting for anyone?

Yeah a small reward. Maybe motivation for your exams.

The nail salon wasn’t too far from your dorm. The sharp smell of nail polish and acetone hit you the moment you pushed the glass door open and stepped inside. After explaining the design you wanted, you sank into the padded chair, finally allowing yourself to relax. For once, things felt calm and peaceful. But that peace didn’t last long because the moment you turned your head slightly — your stomach dropped. Fuck. Sadie.

She was sitting right next to you, getting her nails done, laughing at something her nail artist had said. And just as if fate wanted to ruin your day further her eyes landed on you. You cursed under your breath.“H-hi…” you forced out, offering a tight lipped smile. Her response was a scowl and the nastiest glare you had ever received.

Okayyyy. Let’s just pretend that never happen.

You turned your head away, sitting as stiff as possible for the rest of the session, painfully aware of her gaze burning into the side of your face. You were in the middle of getting your cuticles pushed back, trying to ignore everything, when suddenly her figure appeared behind your nail artist. Before you could react she shoved your nail artist, who stumbled forward. The metal tool scraped against your skin in a flash.

“Ouch!” you hissed, flinching as a sharp sting shot through your fingers.

“I’m so sorry! Oh my god, are you okay?” your nail artist immediately stepped back, panicked, turning toward the source of everything that just went down. Saddie shrugged. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

What a bitch.

“I-it’s okay,” you managed, even though the skin around your nail was already starting to bleed. So much for a peaceful evening.

Jake stared at his answer for a solid fifteen minutes, eyes wide and watery as he tried to figure out what the hell he had just written. With a frustrated sigh, he deleted the entire paragraph. A tissue was stuffed into one of his nostrils as he struggled to stay sane and not sneeze again. Running a fever while preparing for darn sem finals felt like a survival show.

A soft knock broke his concentration.

He let out an annoyed sound. “Sunghoon, I told you stop bothering me”

The door creaked open slightly and Sunghoon peeked in, his expression unusually concerned. “I swear the dean will forgive you for one bad paper,”

Jake huffed. “I don’t care.”

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment before adding, “Uh… someone’s here for you” and Jake frowned. “Who?”

Instead of answering, Sunghoon pushed the door open wider, revealing you. You were standing there, glancing around the living room while trying to process the caveman level lifestyle these boys were living in. Jake’s eyes widened and he shot up immediately, only for his legs to wobble as pain shot through his joints. You rushed forward instinctively, grabbing his arm just as Sunghoon stepped in to help. The two of you guided him back to the bed.

Sunghoon looked between you both, then shrugged. “I’ll leave you guys to it,” he muttered before walking out.

You finally turned your full attention to Jake.“Damn. You look like you’re dying.”

He chuckled weakly, blowing his nose. “Yeah? You’re not invited to the funeral, by the way. The food’s gonna be great.” You rolled your eyes. Even sick, he is unbearable ugh.

“Sooo…” he leaned back, a lazy, teasing smile forming on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

God, you regretted coming here.

You swallowed. “No?”

“That came out way too fast. That means you did miss me—ouch!” he winced when you kicked his foot. “Have some mercy on a sick man, damn.” You huffed and tossed the plastic bag you were holding onto his lap. Jake blinked, confused, before peeking inside.

“…Oranges?!”

You tried not to smile too proudly at the way his entire demeanor shifted. He had clearly been craving them. Well It’s not like you spent a whole night stalked his old Instagram highlights from 2017 and saw a 13 years old Jake in his post basketball tournament, holding a trophie and a big box of fresh oranges from his hometown in Brisbane.

You cleared your throat. “Uh… consider it payment for the p-popsicle.”

A faint blush crept onto your cheeks. Jake set the bag aside and began peeling one, his eyes never leaving yours “sure”

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Even sick, he looked annoyingly good. His flushed face, slightly watery eyes, and glossed lips from constantly licking them.

“Speaking of which…” he suddenly stood up making you instinctively stepped back. “Why did you run away like that...that day?”

“I did not!” you protested, flailing your hands, only for him to catch your arms mid motion. “Right…?” he tilted his head, a grin forming. “are you shy?” He laughed softly, and you immediately cursed yourself for stepping inside the lion's den.“I am not!” you snapped, your voice rising. His grip shifted from your forearms to your wrists, holding you in place as your back bumped against the edge of his study desk.

I need to run. I need to run RIGHT NOW.

Your screamed in your head but your body stayed rooted while jake continued with his snarky remarks. Suddenly the sharp edge of the desk pressed against your injured finger.

“Ow!” you yelped. Jake paused immediately letting your wrist go. “shit are you okay?”

You rubbed the spot, shaking your head. “Y-yeah, I’m fine don’t worry!”

But he had already grabbed your hand. His eyes dropped to the cut, still slightly bleeding even under the bandage.

“Jake, you don’t have to do this—I should go—stop—ouch! slowly asshole!”

Your protests faded as he ignored you completely, carefully applying medicine to the wound. You watched him quietly, his brows furrowed in concentration, his touch surprisingly gentle. And slowly… your chest warmed. Maybe…he wasn’t that bad. You bit your lip, trying to make sense of your thoughts. You would’ve done the same if he showed up hurt at your door, right? But then again, why would he ever come to you? He had plenty of other places to go.

He’d probably run back to Evelyn.

Your body stiffened. Why did that thought bother you? Wasn’t this the whole point from the beginning? There was nothing to feel upset about.

Jake Sim was just living up to his reputation. Your thoughts were cut short when he suddenly shoved a piece of orange into your mouth.

“Stop thinking too much.”

You blinked, chewing slowly. Your finger was now neatly cleaned and re-bandaged. Your gaze drifted back to Jake who had already settled comfortably on his bed, munching on the remaining slices of orange. Stomach doing that weird twists again. You stood up slowly. “It’s late… I should go.”

This was bad.

He didn’t even look up and just hummed in response.

This was so bad.

You turned toward the door. Wouldn’t he say something? Anything?

You paused, waiting. But nothing came.

This was so fucking bad.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear it from under his duvet.

“Yeah… this is pretty bad,” Jake muttered, zooming in on the picture of you and Heeseung laughing over scattered notes on the table. He clicked his tongue, though his expression remained unreadable. It wasn’t like he cared anyway, at least, that’s what he told himself. He turned his phone off and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. Whatever.

“I believe this is not the first time you all are giving a test… still, I will do the final courtesy of reminding you that cheating is absolutely prohibited. Anyone caught cheating will be penalised according to Decelis rulebook…”

Professor Min’s voice felt unusually overwhelming today. You checked the clock, then your laptop screen. Is Jake feeling better now? It had been exactly one week since you last spoke. The bandage he had carefully wrapped around your finger had long been replaced by Chaerin, but somehow, the warmth of his fingertips still lingered. You shook your head. Focus. You forced your attention back to the test paper in front of you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? The test just ended and you’re telling me 50% of our grade still depends on this dumbass assignment?!” Sunghoon groaned, shoving his phone in front of Jay, who looked like he was about to pass out. “How the fuck are you so chill about it?” Jungwon leaned over to peek at Jake’s laptop screen, where he had already started gathering materials for the assignment.

“Party at Soobin’s who’s in?” Sunoo chimed in, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention.“Let’s fucking go. I’m so sick of these exams and assignments,” Sunghoon wailed dramatically, only to fall silent when Jake spoke.“Not coming.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, suit yourself.”

“Exam is overrrr, finally!” Chisa sang, doing a little celebratory dance. “Oh my God, guys! I just got an invitation from Soobin to attend his dope party...and....he even said I could bring whoever I want!” Jurin squealed, joining her.

“No.”

The word left both you and Chaerin at the same time. “Every single bad thing happens there,” you muttered, earning an “exactly!” from Chaerin who nodded her head in agreement. Chisa whined. “Oh, come onnn, Chae—you did have fun at that senior party. And Y/n! don’t act like you won’t be cozying up with your boyfriend.”

You flushed instantly. “N-no?! We’re not even dating like that!”

“Yeah… not yet,” Jurin added with a grin.

“Not happening everrr,” you made a fake throwing up sound.

.…Well. You did say that before.

But now, sitting in Jake’s room with blankets bunched around your legs, a bowl of popcorn resting on your lap, and an iPad screen still loading movie details, you wondered if the universe was playing some twisted joke on you. After ghosting you for two weeks, he had suddenly texted. And here you were. “Why the hell are you sitting so far away?” Jake muttered, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. You yelped. “No—no! I’m fine!”

He gave you a weird look before pressing play. You barely registered what the movie was about. Spaceships and dinosaurs blurred together as your thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Right, he said he was stressed because of assignments and needed someone to be his popcorn holder. What a hell of an excuse.

You dared to steal a glance at Jake who was at this point completely immersed in the movie, eyes focused, expression calm. Damn he is such a science freak. I mean not like I was complaining anyway.

Actually, you were. You missed the comfort of your bed and jake's touch—No. Stop.

You shook your head violently. What the hell were you even thinking?Jake suddenly paused the movie and turned to you. “You okay?” You nodded quickly. “Uh huh! Completely!” He stared at you for a solid five seconds before sighing. “Okay. I’m bored. Feed me popcorn while I work on my assignment.”

You blinked.

He raised his eyebrows “you got any problem?”

“But what about the movie??”

“I’ve watched it five times.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded “then why the fuck did you even turn it on, idiot?”

“Because I wanted to, dimwit,” he laughed, already opening his laptop and scooting even closer to you. The rest of the night passed in a blur of bickering and chaos. Your phone buzzed nonstop with texts from Chisa and Jurin sending funny pictures of a drunk Chaerin.

You looked down at your fingers. The sticky feeling of caramel and alongside Jake's tongue brushing against them was lingering there. Your toes curled under the blanket. You swallowed hard, staring blankly ahead.

You didn’t want to admit it yet.

“After having an extensive conversation with the principal, we’ve decided to resume our yearly academic gala after four years of discontinuation.”

The vice chancellor’s announcement echoed through the auditorium, immediately followed by gasps, whispers, and rising excitement. “Why did they discontinue it again…?” Chaerin whispered beside you, still half-asleep as it was unusual for students to be summoned this early. “Some seniors got into a fight,” a random girl nearby replied “ and one of them even ended up with a head concussion.”

You made a weird face. Who the hell does that elementary level nonsense?

Anyways, you had greater problems to worry about than this gala which was about to take place months from now on. Not like you were interested to participate anyways. There was like hundreds of unspoken rule about participation by seniors which included having a mandatory 'attractive' date and wearing limited edition shits. So where does the middle class ugly kid goes? Nowhere silly! They stayed in their dorm while the rich kids drowned themselves in expensive alcohol and drugs.

“Need help?”

You flinched at the sudden voice cutting through your thoughts, then relaxed when you saw Heeseung’s familiar smile peeking out from under his hoodie. “Nahhh, I can reach it—see?” you said, stretching your arm to grab the design book you’d been eyeing. He laughed “no, dumbo. I meant…” He stepped closer and lightly tapped your forehead with his index finger. “There’s a lot going on in here.”

You rolled your eyes “Being a second year architecture major is not for the weak.” He chuckled, then crouched slightly to match your height. “Mhm… I don’t think this is about architecture at all, baby. There’s gotta be a mole.”

You shook your head and raised your hand to flick his forehead. “That’s not it—”

But before your fingers could reach him, another hand shot in and grabbed your wrist. Startled, both you and heeseung turned — and there he was.

Jake.

His expression was sharper than usual, a pair of bold black framed glasses rested on his nose, his uncombed hair falling messily over his forehead.

“You really should stop getting into people’s business,” he said coldly looking into Heeseung's eyes who let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah, my bad. Didn’t realise my boyfriend was into my girlfriend.”

Your tried your best to stay calm as Jake’s grip on your wrist tightened. “Fuck off,” he snapped.

Heeseung simply winked at you, mouthing 'got the mole', before slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking away. The moment he disappeared, you yanked your hand free and rubbed your wrist. “Stop showing up like that.”

Jake crossed his arms, scoffing. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little too comfortable with our deal?” You frowned. “It’s still on. What the hell did I even do wrong?”

He glanced around briefly, checking for anyone nearby, then leaned in slightly. “Getting all cozy with that guy is enough to ruin everything. Evelyn wouldn't even take me seriously at this rate.”

You ignored him, flipping open the book in your hands. “I think you just want to annoy me. This whole ‘making Evelyn jealous’ thing feels like an excuse. Why would a guy with a disgusting reputation like yours even try this hard for someone? You could literally just sleep with anyone and get whoever you want—”

You stopped abruptly, realising how harsh that sounded.

Slowly, you looked up at him. Jake’s expression remained stoic but his grip on the strap of his bag had tightened.

“And what makes you think I’m not fucking other girls while pretending to be in this ‘thing’ with you?” he asked flatly.

A lump formed in your throat and you tried to step closer instinctively. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“You know what your problem is?” he cut in, his voice sharp. “Girls like you think you’re superior than others just because you don’t go out, don’t have fun, don’t have any social life outside your stupid syllabus and assignments. When in reality, nobody ever actually chooses you.”

Something inside you cracked. Before you could respond, he stormed past you, his shoulder colliding with yours hard enough to push you back against the bookshelf.

Empty vessels make the loudest noise. Yes that was it. Of course Jake had no right to feel anything when he himself had built that image around him. But who were you even trying to convince? You weren’t supposed to feel like shit. And yet, you felt the worst.

“I can’t find my hoop earrings, what the hell…” Chaerin muttered, rummaging through your drawer and scattering everything in the process which you barely paid attention to. You really weren’t in the fucking mood.

Should I apologise? You bit your nails. But I was trying to...he didn’t even give me a chance.Your head was a mess, thoughts clashing into each other until they turned into an ugly emotion you couldn’t even name anymore.

“You’ve been sighing for the past half an hour. Just spit it out already,” Chaerin said absentmindedly, still searching for her jewellery. You rolled onto your bed, facing her. “I think I messed up.”

“Again???”

The silence that followed felt heavy. Slowly, Chaerin stopped moving.“What’s wrong?”

“I messed up.”

“No shit. About what?” She scooted closer. You bit your lips, trying to organise your thoughts before they spilled out in a word vomit. “Y/n, what are you thinking…” she nudged you lightly. That was enough to make you sit up abruptly, words tumbling out before you could manage them. “I think I have some…ehhh for Jake and I kind of pissed him off and he misunderstood me and—”

“Hold on.” Chaerin grabbed your shoulders. “You have what for Jake?”

You stared at her blankly. “ehhh”

“I swear I’m going to slap the shit out of you if you don’t get to the point,” she shook you violently and you gave up, instantly collapsing back onto the bed and pulling the duvet over your head. “Don’f hate mhme, Chaerin… I—I don’t know hoow it happenfed…”

She sighed, shaking her head, then peeked under the covers, only to find your face wet with tears and snots. “ew, gross” she muttered, covering you again. The room fell silent except for your quiet sobs. After a moment, you felt her hand gently resting on your head. “hey...It’s okay to like someone you know. And why are you crying, idiot? Get up,” she let out a small laugh. You slowly lowered the duvet, eyes red, nose sniffly as you grabbed a tissue “I hurt him, Chae…”

She shrugged. “Apologise. Problem solved.” You blowed your nose out, reaching for another tissue. “I don’t think he’s going to talk to me anymore…” Chaerin paused, thinking “then you accept it and move on. You can’t stay stuck like this forever, baby.”

Your chest tightened. Fresh tears welled up again, as you laid back down.

“I didn’t mean it like that… I didn’t…”

She laid down beside you, wrapping her arms around your torso. “If he feels the same, he’ll accept your apology.”

“you saying?”

“mmh hmm”

# 5 look back

The next time you saw Jake, almost after one week, he was in the library working on his assignments, attention full focused and absorbed in his laptop. You hesitated at the entrance. Even after Chaerin’s reassurance, your courage wavered. Well at this point it's now or never.

You walked in, your Kuromi keychain swinging with each step, and sat down in the empty chair beside him. You knew he felt your presence right away because the moment you turned towards him, he subtly shifted away. Oh. So that’s how it was. Fine, you weren’t backing out either. “Okay, listen… I’ll keep it short,” you whispered, leaning in just enough that your voice brushed against his ear. You could smell his familiar woody scent mixed with something musky.

“I’m sorr—”

Jake stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing a few annoyed glances from nearby students. Without saying a word, he packed his laptop and bag and started walking away. “Jake, wait—” You stood up to follow, but before you could take another step, three figures blocked your path.

Not now oh my god.

“Hi Y/n!” one of them chirped with a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Mind having a little talk?”

Your legs forgot their purpose as your pupils darted between the familiar faces standing in front of you. Yunjin casually threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the library entrance, with Daniella and Ahyeon following close behind. “So… I heard you designed last year’s college carnival banner?” Ahyeon asked, twirling a strand of her perfectly curled hair.

“I—uh… yeah…” you stammered. “Great!” Daniella clapped excitedly, but immediately stopped when Yunjin shot her a sharp glare. The poor girl cleared her throat and turned to you with an stiff smile. “We’re having a small introduction party for our new cheerleading recruits. Mind designing a banner for us?” Your brain scrambled, trying to calculate what would happen if you refused, but it came up blank.

“Uh… sure. When do you need it?” you asked hesitantly.

“By tomorrow!” Daniella replied, a little too enthusiastically.

You sighed internally. Tomorrow meant Professor Min’s mandatory lecture, so the banner had to be done today. “But I don’t have any materials right now–” Before you could finish, Ahyeon and Yunjin grabbed your arms from either side. “Don’t worry,” Ahyeon chimed. “We already got permission from the art department to use their supplies!”

You didn’t get a chance to decline as the three of them dragged you across Decelis campus toward the art department, away from the library. Usually, the art students were extremely protective of their materials, so you were surprised and even relieved to find the main room was completely empty.

Daniella gave a squeeze on your shoulder. “We’ll wait for you in the library!” And just like that, the three of them disappeared, leaving you alone.

You began gathering supplies, trying to sketch out a rough design in your head. But actually nothing formed since your mind wasn’t empty at all — it was overflowing with jake jake jake and JAKE. Was he really never going to talk to you again? Well if that was it, then fine. It wasn’t like you were going to die if you did not see him.

But it totally felt like you would.

The memory of him ignoring you replayed over and over again, tightening something painful in your chest. You sighed. I need a break. Maybe working on the banner would distract you.

You stood up, suddenly realising you hadn’t asked for any details about the party. You needed them for the design. So you walked toward the door and stopped discovering it closed.

A frown formed on your face. Was it like this when I came in?

You grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn’t budge at all. A sharp wave of panic surged through you and the markers slipped from your hands, clattering loudly onto the floor.

“What the fuck…”You tugged at the handle again. Nothing.

You banged on the door.

“Guys??”

No response came as you knocked harder. “Hello?! Anyone here?!” Silence welcomed you again and this time you slammed your body against the heavy iron door. Again and again, but it didn’t move. Your energy drained quickly, knees weakening, your throat burned from shouting. And after few tries of banging again and calming yourself down, tears slowly welled up and spilled down your cheeks, you bit your lip.

A full circle moment, huh?

The memory hit you like a slap, locking Jake in the sports room just a month ago. Was this karma?

You wiped your tears roughly with the back of your hand, shaking your head. No. You weren’t giving up.

You stepped back, inhaled deeply, and shouted again, louder this time.

“Somebody help me! The door is locked from outside!”

“Okay, so hypothetically, what would you do if I told you Decelis has a ghost?”

Heeseung barely registered a word Beomgyu was saying whose mouth was stuffed with banana chips, crumbs flying everywhere as he talked. Heeseung sighed and closed the book he was reading, then snatched the packet from Beomgyu’s hand. “I mean, that explains why the art department students are always in a bad mood…” Beomgyu continued, leaning closer. “I once stole a roll of art paper—you should’ve seen the way one of them threatened to slit my throat with a craft knife.”

Heeseung finished the remaining chips and tossed the empty packet at Beomgyu’s head “Idiot why would you steal their stuff in the first place? Art paper is expensive.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes “so??? I heard someone comitted over an argument about art supplies. That’s probably why they hold grudges like that…”

Heeseung checked his watch. Almost 6:30 pm.

He really needed to leave before Beomgyu’s nonsense drained whatever brain cells he had left. “Okay, whatever. Go buy me a drink,” he shoved his shoulder. Beomgyu made a horrified face. “Are you crazy??? The vending machine is literally beside the art department, and it’s the hour of doom. The sun has already set, and look! There are no birds flying back home, and I—”

Heeseung stood up. No this idiot won't stop. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’m going alone.”

“Fuck, what’s wrong with this…” he muttered under his breath when the vending machine failed to process his coins for the second time. “This is it. If it doesn’t work now, I’m getting the hell outta here,” he whispered to himself, trying again for the third time. While waiting, he glanced around, quietly laughing at Beomgyu’s stupidity. With a mechanical clunk, the drink finally dropped into the slot. He relaxed, bending down to pick it up and he paused.

A faint knock came out from the closed art department room. Heeseung froze for a second, a chill creeping up his spine. What the fuck. His eyes scanned around the large iron door. Then he shook his head.

This was Beomgyu’s nonsense getting into his head.

He grabbed his drink and turned to leave. Another knock came louder this time followed by sniffles. He stopped mid step. His grip tightened around the can as he slowly turned back. Something wasn’t right. He walked toward the door in long strides, stopping right in front of it. It was locked from the outside. He cleared his throat. “Is anyone inside?”

The sniffles stopped for a moment, silence filled the space.

Had he imagined it?

And then a voice called out for help. Heeseung didn’t hesitate this time. He quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Y/N?? What are you—” You didn’t let him finish. The moment the door opened, you rushed forward and threw yourself into his arms, clinging to him tightly as your sobs broke out uncontrollably.

Jake stared hard at the pink bouquet, filled with roses, lilies, and a few other flowers he didn’t even know the names of. A frustrated exhale left his mouth as he let out a groan he had been suppressing for a long time. He had bought them hours ago, some of the petals had already started to wither. Now, sitting on the bleachers of the campus, he couldn’t understand what had possessed him to do so.

Jake is plain, he wasn’t a gentleman. Until now, his charm had worked on almost everyone, whether he wanted it to or not. There had never been a reason for him to buy flowers or take someone out on a proper date. At most, he’d share pirated movies with them or let them sit beside him while he played games on his computer. But this? Completely out of his syllabus. So what now? He had bought them so he should have given them to the person he wanted to — but who had he really bought them for?

Fuck. Okay he knows it's for you alright? And he also knows roses and lilies are your favourite flower from that particular shop you always gushed about when their catalogue popped up in your for you page. He knows it, he knows what he's doing but his mind is slowly failing to generate excuses why he would do this.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing himself up to his feet. He pulled out his phone, which he hadn’t checked since morning. He was scared, scared that he’d see your name in his notifications and run straight to you. His ego was far too fragile for that. And yet, the moment his phone connected to the campus wi fi, the first notification that appeared was from you.

Six hours ago.

I’m in the art department. let me know when you’re free, I want to talk to you.

Please.

His legs moved before his eyes could fully read the message. In seconds, he found himself sprinting towards the art department, on forth floor.

“Hey, shh… what happened?” Heeseung cupped your face gently, his thumb wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “I was scared… m-my phone died, and I—I couldn’t reach anyone,” you choked out between sobs, clutching his shirt tightly, as if letting go would make some unknown creature drag you inside the room again. He didn’t ask for details, didn’t need them. All he cared about was calming you down. So he let you hold onto him, let you cry until your breathing steadied, until the panic slowly drained out of your body.

Moments ago, the room had felt like a prison with sealed windows, locked doors, suffocating silence. You had truly thought you might be trapped there forever.

And then through your blurred vision, you noticed a figure standing a few feet away. Panting and watching. Your breath hitched.

Jake.

His glasses were slightly crooked, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the run. All sweaty from skipping the elevator and taking stairs to reach to you fast.

The moment you recognized him, a sharp ringing filled your ears. You let go of Heeseung almost instantly and stepped toward him. “Jake you came...”

Suddenly he stepped back. A hollow, almost bitter laugh escaped him. “Is this why you called me here? To watch your cliché romance?”

Your stomach dropped. What? No no no no no he's getting it all wrong.

“No Jake listen–” You reached out for him, but before your fingers could touch him, he smacked your hand away. “Don’t.”

Behind you, you felt Heeseung step closer. His voice cut through the tension, uncharacteristically serious as the weight of the situation multiplied rapidly “can you stop being a dick for once?”

Jake’s eyes flickered, irritation flashing across his face. “And why should I take advice from a weirdo like you?”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened and he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you aside, placing himself between you and Jake. “Listen, deepshit—if you actually used that thing on your eyes of yours, you’d see the state she’s in—”

"I don't need to" Jake let out a shaky breathe. He refused to look at your way, cuz he knew if he did he would say something which would harder for him to take back later.

“Y/n…” he began,

“our deal is off.” he finished with a stone expression.

“You can fuck around him as much as you want now,” he continued, taking a deep breathe “but I really wish we had met in a different way.”

Before you could respond to him, he turned and and started walking away without looking back.

“Jake wait!” you called out, your voice breaking as you ran after him, ignoring Heeseung’s hand reaching out to stop you.

Down the stairs, through the empty corridor you called out his name but he was simply gone. Disappointed when you walked back your steps slowed as your eyes fell on a nearby trash can, where a bouquet of lilies and roses wrapped in pink was dumped.

Discarded like it meant nothing. Your chest tightened as you stared at it, the pieces falling into place far too late.

NEXT PART. ©sunishake

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Holy cliffhanger (thankfully there is a part 2)

[youngheejay]

Bf stories

Jake x gf!reader

Jake is there for you when you’re having the worst period symptoms. Contains: vomiting

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“Pretty?” Jake called worriedly as he opened the door to his room.

You two had a date at his dorm when you unexpectedly got your period, not anticipating it at all. Yeah, it had definitely ruined your actual plans with your boyfriend for the night. But that was the least of your concerns right now. Your angel boyfriend went out to buy your sanitary products, heating pads, the biggest painkiller he could find (your demand).

“I got your stuff.”

You couldn’t respond, you were hurting too much. You were curled up in fetus position. Luckily, you had some emergency pads in your bag so you weren’t worrying about that at the moment.

“I found this electric heating pad. And I bought extra fluffy and thick socks, I read you have to keep your feet warm. Also I couldn’t find a painkiller as big as my fist but I hope this will help. I asked a lady at the store.”

Your heart melted. He’s so cute. My cutest boyfriend.

Only when he stepped in closer did he register your tear streaked face. “Oh, baby… what’s wrong?” He murmured softly as he sat down beside your trembling figure. You couldn’t respond to him, so you just whimpered into his pillow, shaking your head.

He gently pushed away the strands of hair off your face to look at you properly. His puppy eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re burning.” He laid his hand on your forehead, quickly followed by his soft lips. He always claimed that this was the best way to feel if you have a fever. You weren’t sure if you believed him.

“You have a fever, baby.” He murmured softly against your forehead. He leaned back only slightly to look at you properly, his hands came to cup your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick, baby?” You weakly shook your head. “Just period symptoms.“ Your voice was hoarse.

“Oh-“

A sharp pang struck in your lower belly. You gasped as you curled yourself back to your position, your hands holding your belly.

But somehow, you had breathed in too sharply or moved too fast which resulted in your stomach churning. Before he could even understand what was happening, you quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom in the hallway, next to his room.

“Yn??” He hastily followed behind, yet you were already hovering above the toilet bowl. “Baby?? What’s wrong??” He knelt down behind you, his hands instantly curling around your waist. Normally, his warm hands always soothed you and gave you comfort, but unfortunately now, the wrong placement of his hands made you more nauseous.

You quickly pushed his hands away before you began to vomit. You didn’t have the time to tie your hair, so you were trying to hold them back but some strands got dirty.

This was the rawest version of yourself you have ever shown to your boyfriend. Your relationship was still somewhat new, you have never shown him a bad side of yourself. You were beyond embarrassed, to say the least. But you couldn’t dwell in the embarrassment for too long as you continued to struggle to hold your hair and vomit your guts out.

Jake on the other side was beyond worried. He had never seen a woman affected by her periods this severely before. Matter of fact, he has never seen a person empty their guts out. Yet, as new and terrifying the situation was, all he felt was deep concern. His chest tightened at the sight as he looked at you with shaky eyes. His poor yn.

He reached out to take hold of your hair. But you shook your head in refusal. “Let me hold your hair,” he tried. But you refused once again. Your eyes were burning. Maybe more because of the humiliation than the literal fact that you were retching. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

And of course it got worse.

“Is everything alright?? What’s wrong??” A bewildered Niki stood outside the bathroom, worried eyes looking at your hunched body. The door wasn’t closed. The humiliation intensified 10x. “Is she okey??”

Vomiting in front of your boyfriend was one thing, but in front of his members? Yeah, that was truly the worst thing that could happen.

Before Jake could tell him that he didn’t know either, you rasped a quiet ‘close the door’. Jake froze for a second, not quite understanding what you told him. But as soon as he got it, he quickly shut the door in his face.

Eventually, your guts were emptied out but you still needed a few seconds until the gagging reflex stopped. And Jake sat there beside you, feeling like the dumbest and most useless person on earth. His hands were ready to hold you but by now he understood that he needed to give you space.

“Baby…” he murmured softly. His heart clenching at the sight.

Exhausted, your arm gave up to hold your hair, and you let yourself collapse on the cool tiles of the bathroom, curling your body slowly in. You didn’t care about the fact that you laid there on the dorm’s bathroom floor with dirty hair.

Slow tears escaped your eyes. Gosh, so humiliating. I’m such a mess.

Jake leaned slowly forward, still keeping his distance. He bit his lip in worry. He didn’t want to say or do anything wrong. But he wanted to hold you in his arms so badly.

Your glassy eyes met his. “This happens sometimes.” You rasped quietly. He almost didn’t catch it. A faint pout formed on his face. Concern overflowed him. “Is this also a symptom?” His tone was soft, like he was cautious if he spoke too loud something might happen.

You nodded weakly. Tears formed in your eyes again, you closed them immediately. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“What? No, baby.” He shuffled closer to you, his hand slowly came to pat your head. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry. I should help you… but I don’t know what to do.”

Your lips trembled as you shook your head again, hiding your face from him. Then your shoulders began to shake as you just let yourself cry.

“Baby…” you ignored him as you continued to silently cry. You hated this. So much. Yet the need to be comforted by your boyfriend was also there. Even though you felt embarrassed and wanted to hide.

“Hey…” he murmured softly, you continued to hide your face with your arm. “it’s okey, my love.” He pressed a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips lingering as if he wasn’t ready to let go. “It’s okey. I’m here.” His hand never stopped patting your head as the other went to grasp your hand. His fingers curled around yours, his thumb faintly brushing over your knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere, hm? It’s okey, it will get better soon.” He hushed you as he pressed another kiss on your temple.

A sob escaped from your mouth causing a dull throb in your uterus. You gasped, your fingers tightened around his hand. He squeezed your hand lovingly, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as his other hand continued to pat your head.

When the pain stopped for a moment, you knew you had to take the chance to get up. With wobbly arms and legs you struggled to stand up. His arms immediately moved to hold you, his warm hands went your shoulder, helping you. But you shook your head, croaking a tired no. “When I make a wrong move, it will get worse.” You explained as you supported yourself on the sink. Jake nodded softly, his doe eyes following you.

“Can you-“ you hesitated. His eyes turned softer than before. “Jake… Can you give me a moment? Please?”

Jake’s shoulders slumped, almost unnoticeable. He hesitated for a moment, you looked like you were one step away from collapsing—how could he leave you alone like this?

“Okey… I’m waiting outside, okey? Call me if you need anything.” As he was about to shut the door he quickly peeked inside, “don’t lock the door, yeah?” He couldn’t help but worry that you might faint in the bathroom all alone.

After you had freshened up, brushed your teeth and washed the dirty strands of hair, you hesitated to meet your boyfriend again. You were still embarrassed that you vomited all over his bathroom. You stepped outside, hunched and clutching your lower stomach.

“Jake?” He snapped his head back at you, he was in the middle of arranging his blanket and fluffy pillows for you. He had already plugged in the electric heating pad, water and the painkillers waiting for you on the nightstand, alongside some freshly heated leftover because he remembered that you didn’t eat anything yet.

“I think I should head back home now.”

He gave you a bewildered look, “what??” He quickly went to you, taking your hands in his, “no, baby, you’re not leaving! Look at you! You’re about to faint any minute!” Your face was pale, sweat lingered on your skin, your hands trembled due to weakness.

“But…” a lump formed your throat, “…I don’t want you to see me like this…” you mumbled quietly as tears formed your eyes.

He shook his head with scrunched eyebrows, not liking your answer at all. “What are you talking about?? Come here.” He sighed as he urged you to lay down by pulling you to the bed.

“Jake-” you gasped at the sudden movement. Eyes squeezing at the pain.

He halted immediately.

“Slowly.” You rasped. “I can’t move too fast or I’ll feel nauseous again.” His heart ached at your vulnerable voice. He nodded even though he didn’t quite understand what was happening.

That’s how you found yourself in his bed. Painkillers swallowed, heating pad snug warmly against your lower abdomen with your boyfriend spooning you with upmost care.

“Is this okey?” He spoke softly. You nodded against his pillow, your eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on top of his as he gently pressed the heating pad on your lower stomach.

“Does this happen every time?” He asked after a while. “Sometimes. When I don’t take the painkiller on time.”

He nodded against your neck, not quite understanding what was really happening with your body, what you meant by ‘sometimes’ or ‘on time’, but his heart was aching nonetheless. He didn’t like seeing you like this. That’s what he knew for sure.

Absentmindedly, his hold tightened around you. You whimpered painfully. “Ouch, Jakey- no-“

His hold relaxed immediately. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“ he panicked.

“It’s okey.” You leaned your back against his chest, “just be careful.” You took his hands in yours and guided them underneath your shirt as you pushed down the hem of your pyjamas. You placed his hands cautiously on your lower belly, he could feel the warmth from the heater lingering on your soft skin.

“I’m really sensitive here. It gets quite swollen here during the first couple of days. You feel the difference from usual?”

His soft hands rested there, lingering and feeling. “It does feel different than usual.”

“Yeah- I don’t think it’s normal that it gets swollen like this. But that’s what happens.” You let out a small laugh, immediately hissing afterwards at the ache.

“Can you move your hands like this-“ you guided his hands by holding his wrists. “Yes- just like that,” you sighed as you closed your eyes at the relaxing feeling of his fingers massaging your sore belly muscles.

Jake kissed the back of your neck, rubbing the area exactly how you showed him—not too fast nor too rough. His fingers glided over your swollen lower belly with upmost care.

He hated seeing you so hurt. His heart truly ached at the sight. He buried his face in your hair, thinking about his girlfriend literally fighting for her life made him sad.

You squeezed his wrists affectionately. “Thank you, Jaeyunie. This is helping so much.”

“Of course, pretty.” He kissed your neck again, glad he was able to give you some comfort.

As he continued to massage your belly, your small voice echoed through the room, exhaustion evident in your voice: “This is way better than being alone.”

“I’m glad I can help, baby.”

“I’m sorry for ruining our date.” You mumbled in embarrassment, “I can’t believe I vomited. And Niki saw it, too. Its so embarrassing…”

“Hey. Don’t be embarrassed. You’re hurting, baby, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He kissed your shoulder, his tone soft yet scolding.

“But still…”

“Nonsense, my love. Now close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A lump formed in your throat. Your heart squeezed, you were so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend.

“I love you.” You pouted, eyes turning misty. The hormones really messed you up.

“I love you too, pretty.”

“I don’t deserve you-“

“Shh.” He shushed you. “Sleep. Now.” He pressed a kiss on the shell of your ear.

He waited for your breath to even out. “You deserve everything and more.” He softly murmured at you before closing his eyes. His hands only came to a stop when he fell into slumber.

And that’s how Ni-ki found you two: cuddled up and sleeping with Jake’s hands resting on your lower belly.

He quietly tiptoed out of the room after placing your favourite snacks on Jake’s nightstand along with anti-nausea tablets.

Yeah. He was just as clueless as Jake.

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Guess who’s having that time of the month? I was actually writing another fic but then I had to write this

Comments are always appreciated

Read other fics

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All works are copyrighted ©youngheejay 2026.

[sunghoon-my-dear]

That's so cute, but she needs to see a doctor

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Dad!Enha! x pregant!reader!

Wc: 2,200

Announcing your pregnancy to people!

Non! idol! au!

Warnings: Pregnancy

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Heeseung

"Hi mom! We called you because I wanted to tell you something!" Heeseung said. "What do you want to tell me?" His mom sounded annoyed. "We are having a baby, mom! Yn is really happy, but I think I'm even happier than her." Heeseung couldn't stop smiling "I can't believe it, finally! Call yn, I want to talk to her!"

"Hello!" You were already talking to her "Hi, dear! How are you feeling? Any pregnancy symptoms? I have a lot of recipes to relieve those!" Of course she had, Korean mothers are always like this "Oh! He already told you? That's great. I'm feeling really happy, I really wanted a baby! And for symptoms, I just feel morning sickness." It was your first baby, so you were really excited "Did Heeseung take you to a doctor? Is he treating you well? " Your mother in law wanted to make sure everything was okay "Yes, he did. And he is treating me really well!" You really loved your husband "Good, good. That is the boy I raised him to be!"

"Mom, I think you have already asked enough questions." Heeseung entered the conversation after some time. "Ok, so I'm hanging up. We're going to have a good talk, you bratty rat." His mom was kind of angry at him, probably because he interrupted her "Mom, stop! I'm a grown adult!" He defended himself. His mom didn't say anything, just hang up.

"Your mom asked so many questions, oh my god." You kind of hated being asked too many questions "I'm so sorry, I'm really, really, deeply sorry!" He got on his knees. "Hee, I was joking!"

You love to see his worried face. He hugged you and you stayed like that for a long time.

Jay

Jay was extremely happy with your pregnancy, he was so happy that he wanted to tell everyone about it. Now that you were on your second trimester and he could tell everyone, here were the both of you telling the whole Park company about it.

"Good morning! Today we are here to announce some big news!" His secretary said. "Me and Mrs. Park are expecting!" Jay stepped up and said with the biggest grin on his face.

You could already hear the gossip. "I thought they were married for convenience!" "Me too, that's crazy." "For me, it's not because they love each other, it's because rich people always sleep around with each other, and since they are married they just enjoyed it!" "Oh! Yeah, you might be right" "She's definitely right!"

You kind of liked to hear the gossip. Little did they know you and jay were actually really close since you were kids. But they were kind of right, rich kids do sleep arowith each other, in your case it was only with Jay, and it was an arranged marriage, but thankfully it happened to be with you and Jay.

Later, when you were tucjed in bed you woke jay up and started talking "I think you just gave them shit to talk about for a whole year." You commented "Yeah, probably. But I don’t care! I just want them to know I'm having a baby with the love of my life!" "Jay, you're hopeless!" What do you mean, tiny cute little muffin" "Don't call me that!" "Why not?" "Just don't, it's super weird! You will sleep in the couch for a whole month if you call me that again." "I'm sorry, princess! Not calling you tiny cute little muffin anymore, okay?" You both just laughed at that random conversation and went to sleep.

Jake

You offered to go with Jake, but he wanted to tell his group of friends alone, when you asked why he said that they would say a lot of unnecessary shit, so it would be better for you to stay. He also said he would take both of your kids with him so you could rest, and of course, you agreed.

"I have an announcement, guys!" Jake said while he tried to hold both of your kids on his lap ag the same time "What is it hyung?" Niki was the first one to ask.

"We are having a baby!" After that the boys wouldn't stop talking.

"What the fuck, Jake! Three under three?" Sunghoon said. "Yeah, like do you even sleep?" Sunoo kinda of whispered. "You must have a crazy sex drive, I'm impressed" Heeseung gave his opinion. Jay and Jungwon just starred at each other and started laughing.

"Hey! Don't say things like that in front of my kids!" Jake pouted "They don't even understand us!" Niki replied. "Of course they do, my poor babies."

After talking and playing with the kids for some time you called.

"Jake, can you please come home? I have a really strong craving for apple pie with doritos and ground meat. Also drop the kids at your mom's... I'm like reallyyyyyy horny..." you were dying for him to come home "Yeah, babe. I'm getting home with everything in like 30 minutes or something... Wait for me!"

"Wait, you're going home to more baby making activities? Wow, you're actually unstoppable!"

"Shut up, Niki! You are just saying that because you’re bitchless!" Jake said.

"Like you have anyone!" Niki replied.

"I'm literally married, Niki! I have two... I mean, three kids now!" And that was the last thing Jake said before running back to you.

Sunghoon

Your dad was making your favorite dish, but the smell you used to love was nearly making you gag.

"Are you okay, love? Do you want me to make some lemon water?" Sunghoon carefully asked you "No, I'm fine. I need to tell them." "Are you sure you're ready?" "Yeah"

After some time everyone gathered around the table to share your birthday meal. You wanted a small party, so the only people at your house were your parents, your husband and older sister.

"So, you told me you wanted to tell us something? What is it?" Of course your sister remembered "You wanted to tell us something?" Good, now your mother also wanted to know.

You looked at your husband and he gave you a reassuring look, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. "You want me to say it? Everything is going to be alright." He whispered "No, I'll do it."

"Ok, I do have something to say... I'm pregnant!"

At first, no one said anything. They were surprised, like REALLY surprised. "No, there's no way! You're joking. You always told us you would never have kids!" You sister was the first one to break the silence. "You said you would never have babies, but here you are! Your sister said she wanted 5 kids, she's 6 years older than you and she doesn't even have a boyfriend!" Your dad said. Your mom kept silent.

You actually wanted 5 kids since you were like 12, but you always told your parents you didn't want kids, because you tought they would think about sex, so you just sticked with your lame excuse.

"I don't understand, you liked it?" You really couldn't understand their reaction "Of course we liked it dear... We're just a little... Impressed..." Your mom was calmer than you thought she would be. "I'm mainly impressed that YOU both had sex! That's weird! I tought that, even tough you are married, my baby sister wouldn't make babies this young! Gross!" You had to control yourself not to slap your sister "I'm not that young! I'm 24! Also, shut the fuck up." You said in a voice tone higher than usual. "Baby, calm down, stress is not good for the baby." Of course Sunghoon would try to calm you down. "Only because I love you, Hoon." You said, knowing what your sister would do. "EWWWW".

"Okay kids, stop arguing! Time to eat!" After some time, your dad interrupted you. You just agreed and enjoyed the meal with your family.

You wanted them to be more caring about your soon to be born child than they were. You felt neglected, but your husband was there to support you when you couldn't stop crying at home (it wasn't that bad, you were only crying because of the pregnancy hormones).

Jungwon

It was your first time seeing your brother in a really long time. You had just arrived at the airport. Jungwon was by your side, with his hand on your back. Your bump was already big and heavy, since you were 8 months pregnant.

"Nice fake pregnancy belly! Good joke sis!" He laughed and then toched your stomach so he could remove the fake belly, when he felt your bump was hard and uremovable he panicked. You didn't say anything, just smiled. "Nooooooo, there's no way! You would have told me... right?" He was about to cry. "Don't cryyyy! It was a surprise! When you told me you were gonna come here some time ago, I decided to tell you later!" You couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, cool betrayal surprise. I won't be mad at you, yn, because you are my sister and because you are pregnant. But at this asshole, oh, I will be mad, very mad." He proceeded to shake jungwon.

"Didn't I tell you to wait until marriage to do shit with mys sister? Didn’t you understand? Apologize right now!" Your brother angrily said. "I won't apologize for having a baby with yn! That's something that we really wanted!" Jungwon replied. "Okay guys, stop. All this time standing is killing me! Can we go home?" And just like that they stopped and started talking about the most random things.

You were used to them being like this since you were a kid, since your brother Heeseung and jungwon were childhood best friends. You found their relationship realty cute, actually.

Sunoo

You were at your best friend's house. You wanted her to be the first person besides Sunoo to know that you were pregnant.

"So, Chae, remember what I was going to tell you?" You took Chaewon's hand. "Yes, I remember... Wait, I don't... Did you tell me?" She looked confused. "Nooo! I mean, remember the text I sent you saying I need to tell you something! You dumbass." You explained. "Oh, yeah. I remember that."

"I'm pregnant!"

"OH-MY-GOD! You are having a baby with your little twink boyfriend?" She pit her hand over her mouth. "Hey! At least I found someone my type!" You said. "I'm not complaining about your little twink! I'm going to be the best auntie ever!" Knowing her, she would actually be the best aunt ever.

After that you jaut talked about babies for a while and then you went home.

"Sunoooo, I'm home!" You looked to the living room and there he was. Sunoo was organizing and folding your chlotes. "Hi, sweetie! How was your visit to Chaweon's house?" He looked at you. "It was pretty good, I told her about our baby. I kinda felt bad, she's been trying for a baby and I didn’t even try and I got pregnant..." Now that you got home you were thinking about that. "Oh, love! Are you crying? Don't cry! She will also be able to get pregnant too! Keep calm!" He hugged you.

2 months later Chaweon got pregnant. You were both really happy about your "matching" babies.

Niki

"Your parents are going to tell my parents and they are going to kill me! It's all YOUR fault! I hate you! I'm only 18! You ruined my life!" You screamed at Niki "I know, I know! Calm down! I'm really sorry, okay? But don't say our baby ruined your life! Everything is going to be okay! My mom was also a teen parent, she's going to understand! Maybe she will even help!" Niki tried to calm you down "but what about mine? I'm gonna be homeless!" You were really worried "You won't be homeless! You can live with me!" Niki explained "That doesn't make it any better!"

Later you were in front of his parents, drinking tea. "Dear, you look so worried! You look just like me when I was your age, when Niki came into my life..." Oh, good, now you have to tell her something she basically just said. "Uhmmm... Maybe it's because I'm in the same place you were." The moment you said that, she understood what you meant "What do you mean?" Well... His dad didn't really understand "We're going to have a baby, dad." Niki said. The room went silent.

"Do your parents know?" His mom asked. "They don't know it yet." You answered. "Ok, the first thing we need to do is tell them. I just want you to know everything is going to be alright, I tell you this from my own experience." Her voice was really calming. "They will kill me! I will be homeless if I tell them!" You were really scared. "Don't worry, I will help you. Also, you will not be homeless, you can live with us if anything bad happens!" She even wanted you to live with them.

"I didn’ think you would follow my steps, Niki. I will find you both a great place to live together. You need to be responsible and raise this kid well. Now that you already did it, I will give you all the support I wish I had." You didn't think his dad would be like this, it surprised you a lot. "Thanks dad! I promise we will be responsible!" Niki ran a hand trough his hair, kinda proud of himself.

"And we will take to a doctor, okay? Today." You already loved his mom, she was so kind. "Ok! It will make me less worried, probably!" You wanted see if everything was fine with your baby. "When you see your baby everything will get lighter." She seemed excited to meet the baby too.

Telling his parents wasn't bad, the only problem would be telling your parents.

[enhaflixer]

dad!enhypen x mom f!reader - enha dilf smut

cw: smut, breeding kink, degradation, 69ing some real filthy some real sweet im ngl 2 u ENHA HARD HOURS MDNI 18+

-

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Yuri’s finally asleep upstairs, her stuffed bear clutched in one tiny hand. The monitor hums on the kitchen counter. Snow’s falling outside the windows, crackling gently against the fire-warmed glass.

And Heeseung?

He’s looking at you like you’re dessert.

The second you bend down to put your mug in the sink—sweatpants sliding just an inch too low, the back of your tank top riding up—he’s behind you.

His palm presses flat to your lower back. His hips grind into your ass, and you feel him already hard.

“Baby,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “You wanna be a mom again that bad?”

You laugh breathlessly. “She just fell asleep.”

He leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“Then you better keep your mouth shut.”

Your heart stutters. Your thighs clench.

Heeseung grabs your hips, bends you gently over the kitchen counter, and pulls your sweats down just far enough to expose your soaked panties.

“Oh, you’re ready already?” he says, one brow raised. “Just from me watching you do dishes like a good little wife?”

He strokes one finger up the seam of your pussy, still covered.

You squirm. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Heeseung—”

“No,” he whispers, kissing your spine. “Say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He slides your panties aside and pushes in slowly—deep—like he’s savoring it.

You gasp, hands braced on the cold counter, the stretch already making your legs shake.

And he starts moving.

Not gentle.

Not rough.

Just… focused.

Possessive.

Like he’s claiming you all over again.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Tight like it’s the first time. Wet like you were made for me. This pussy’s been mine since day one, huh?”

You whimper, trying not to moan too loud.

The baby monitor glows quietly in the corner.

Heeseung sees you glance at it and smirks.

“You scared she’s gonna hear?” he taunts. “Worried our little girl’s gonna wake up and hear mommy getting bred like she asked for it?”

You moan into your arm. Heeseung growls.

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you’re trying to be quiet.”

He grabs your jaw, pulls you up just enough to hiss into your ear:

“You know what gets me off? Seeing you with her. Watching you tuck her in, feed her, kiss her little cheeks like the perfect mother.”

He thrusts harder.

“And knowing that this is what you need when she’s down for a nap. Knowing I fuck you so good, you leak for an hour after.”

You’re shaking. Crying out now.

There’s slick dripping down your thighs, onto the floor. Heeseung grabs your chin, makes you look at your reflection in the microwave.

“Look at yourself,” he growls. “So messy. So fucked out. You want another one? I’ll fill you up right now. Knock you up again while our daughter’s sleeping upstairs.”

You cum so hard your knees give out.

Heeseung holds you up.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Now hold still.”

He fucks you through it. Doesn’t pull out.

And when you feel it—that rush of heat, his cum spilling inside you—you moan like it’s your own orgasm.

Heeseung pants against your neck, then presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“That’s how you start a family vacation.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

The baby’s asleep. The monitor’s on. You’re freshly showered, wearing nothing but a robe, leaning against the headboard with your legs tucked up beneath you.

Jay walks in slowly, towel around his neck, hair damp from his own shower. You smile at him, lazy and soft. He looks at you like he’s been starving.

“You shouldn’t sit like that,” he murmurs, climbing onto the bed.

“Like what?”

He crawls toward you, eyes locked on the part of your robe that’s come slightly undone.

“Like your pussy isn’t the only thing I’ve thought about all day.”

You laugh, but your breath catches when he kisses your thigh. Just above the knee. Then higher. Then higher.

“I’m serious,” he whispers, lips dragging against your skin. “Ever since you got pregnant… ever since you gave birth…”

His hands slide under the robe. Push your thighs apart gently.

“You taste different. Sweeter. Thicker. Like wine.”

You stare down at him, stunned. Flushed. “Jay—”

But he’s already kissing your pussy like it’s communion.

Slow, reverent. Like he’s praying.

He moans into you, loud, unashamed. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. You feel his lips part—his tongue flatten—and then he’s drinking you like he’s been deprived.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away for a second. “You taste like something aged in heaven and bottled for sinners.”

You whimper. Try to close your legs.

He growls. “No. You gave me a child. You really think I’m ever gonna stop tasting you?”

He eats you with slow, devastating focus. Not teasing. Not rushed. Just deep, soft, relentless devotion.

You cum once—twice—he doesn’t stop.

Even when your thighs tremble, even when your hips jerk up, even when your hand grips his hair like a lifeline.

Jay doesn’t stop until you’re crying.

And when he finally comes up, lips shiny, chin wet, eyes dark?

He kisses your stomach.

The stretch marks.

The curve of your softened belly.

The skin he watched stretch around his baby.

“You taste better now,” he murmurs. “Because you’re mine in every way. And I’m never gonna let you forget it.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

He’s been hard all goddamn day.

You’ve been walking around the house in that little tank top, no bra, nipples brushing the fabric every time you breathe. You keep bending over to pick up your son’s toys, bouncing him on your hip like some sweet little housewife. Jake hasn’t had your pussy in a week, and it shows.

Every time you talk to him, his brain short-circuits.

Every time you smile at him, his cock twitches.

Your son Jacob?

Beautiful. Perfect. The light of his life.

Also ruining his sex life.

It’s not your fault. Jake knows that. But he’s still spiraling.

It’s 9:46pm.

The baby’s finally asleep.

You’re barely in the bedroom before he’s on you.

He locks the door. Turns around. And says it—

“Get your ass on the bed before I fuck you against the wall like a rabid dog.”

You blink. “Jake—”

“No. I’ve been jerking off to the memory of your pussy for six fucking days. I came in the goddamn laundry room this morning like a pervert. The second that kid shuts his eyes, I’m in you.”

You’re already backing up. Jake follows, jaw tight, cock fully hard in his sweats.

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking day. Walking around with your tits out like you don’t know what you’re doing. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He drags your shorts down. Sees your panties. Laughs, mean and low.

“Oh, these are getting ruined. Hope you weren’t attached.”

He kisses you. Rough. Possessive.

Then drops to his knees and spits on your pussy through the fabric.

“Been dreaming about this cunt. Swear to god, baby. You’ve got the kind of pussy that ruins people.”

You’re gasping. Squirming. Already dripping through the cotton.

Jake groans. “Fuck, you’re soaked. You miss this mouth too, huh? Miss being licked until you cry? Look at you—messy and shaking, and I haven’t even pulled the panties off yet.”

He pulls them aside, tongue already out, devouring you like he’s starving.

He’s loud. Sloppy. Mouth wet and wide and relentless.

“Fuck, I forgot how good this tastes. Like candy. Like fucking syrup. Wanna drown in it. Wanna tonguefuck you until you start babbling, baby. Give me that shit.”

You cum in his mouth in under two minutes.

He doesn’t stop.

“You think I’m done? Nah. Not even close. I’m not pulling my mouth off this pussy till your legs stop working.”

“Mamaaaa?”

Both of you freeze.

“Mama, snack please?”

Jake lifts his face from between your thighs, chin soaked. He blinks once.

Then stands up.

Calm. Still. Murderous.

“I’m gonna drop him off at my mom’s.”

You’re panting. “Jake—”

“I swear to fucking god, I love him, but if he interrupts me one more time, I’m going to lose it. I’m on the edge, baby. Your pussy’s dripping, my balls hurt, and my mouth tastes like heaven.”

He pulls his hoodie on. Wipes his face with the sleeve. Grabs his keys.

“Get ready. Because when I get back, I’m going to come in you until you’re stuffed so full you forget your own name.”

He leans down, kisses your pussy one more time.

Smirks.

“Try not to cum without me.”

And walks out the door.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

It’s late.

And Sunghoon’s at his limit.

The boys fought all day—chased each other with brooms, cried over identical socks, tried to body slam each other off the fucking couch. He broke up four WWE reenactments, confiscated two folding chairs, and heard the phrase “Spear him!!”more than a Monday Night Raw announcer.

He didn’t even finish his dinner.

Now you’re on your knees, robe slipped off your shoulders, tits swaying as you crawl between his legs with that look in your eye.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease.

He just pulls his cock out—already hard—and groans:

“Open your fucking mouth, baby. Daddy needs to forget he’s a parent for ten fucking minutes.”

You moan like you were born for it, lips parting, tongue flat as he feeds it to you inch by inch.

“Goddamn,” he hisses. “That mouth. You’ve been thinking about this all day too, haven’t you? Walking around like my dumb little housewife—cooking for our kids while this tight little throat’s just sitting here. Untouched.”

You gag. Loud. He grins. Dark. Mean.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking slobber on it. I want your spit dripping down to your tits.”

And then—

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

“DAAAAAADDDD!!!!!!!”

Sunghoon freezes mid-thrust.

You look up at him—dazed, cock still in your mouth, tears brimming.

He blinks.

Clenches his jaw.

Looks at the door.

“DAD!! JAEWON WON’T TAP OUT—HE’S NOT EVEN SELLING!!”

“HE HIT ME WITH THE PILLOW TOO SOFT!! THAT’S NOT A REAL FINISHER!!”

Sunghoon exhales like he’s in prison.

Stares at you. Then back at the door.

And then he laughs. Quiet. Deranged.

“Let them fight.”

He grabs your head in both hands, forces your face down until you’re choking on his cock again.

“They wanna pretend they’re in the ring?” he growls. “Fine. They can wrestle to the sound of their mother being face-fucked.”

You whimper, throat bulging.

“Yeah. Gag on it, slut. Show me how much you missed this. Bet your pussy’s soaked already.”

You’re dripping. Pathetically.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move—but Sunghoon doesn’t care.

He keeps fucking into your throat like it owes him something, hips snapping rough, deep, relentless.

“Don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping. They wanna scream through the door? Let them.”

You moan around him—loud. Shaky.

One of your tits bounces against your stomach with each thrust, and he watches it like he’s hypnotized.

“DAAAAAAD!!! CAN YOU COUNT TO THREE?! JAEHYUN’S PINNING ME AND WON’T GET OFF!!”

Sunghoon barks a laugh, head thrown back.

“Yeah, hold on—let me just finish throatfucking my wife so I can come count to three like a fucking WWE ref.”

You gag so hard tears stream down your cheeks.

“That’s it, baby. God, you look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat. Bet they’ll shut the fuck up if they hear you choking on daddy’s dick.”

You cum untouched.

Right there on your knees, body shaking, soaked down your thighs—just from the way he talks to you. The way you knowhe’s been waiting all fucking day to use you like this.

Sunghoon feels it.

He pulls you off, cock soaked, saliva clinging in strings to your lips. You’re panting, teary-eyed, flushed.

“You done?” he murmurs. “Or you want me to make them wait while I use your pussy next?”

“DAD. I’M GONNA DO A LADDER MATCH OFF THE STAIRS IF YOU DON’T COME OUT.”

Sunghoon sighs.

Looks down at you.

Smiles.

“Five more minutes. Think you can handle it, mommy?”

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

It’s past ten. The house is quiet—finally.

And Sunoo is face down in the mattress, one sock still on, his shirt halfway pulled up his back like he got undressed mid-collapse and gave up.

You close the bedroom door softly. Climb in next to him.

“Long day?”

He groans into the pillow.

“She cried because I gave her the green cup instead of the pink one. Then she screamed when I tried to switch it. She said the bubbles in the bath were ‘too round.’”

You smile, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“And then,” he continues, voice muffled, “she fell asleep on me at six-thirty, woke up ten minutes later, and punched me in the nose. I think she might be feral.”

You laugh softly, kissing his cheek.

He rolls over—barely. One eye open. Face flushed from stress and exhaustion and not getting to touch you for four days straight.

“I need you to ride me,” he whispers.

You blink. “Right now?”

“I literally can’t move.” He stretches his arms out uselessly. “My soul left my body around lunchtime. I need you to do everything. Just use me. Treat me like a toy. I’ll whimper, I swear.”

You bite your lip.

He looks so pretty like this.

Messy. Tired. Desperate.

So you peel off your clothes—slowly, deliberately. He watches through heavy lashes, licking his lips when you tug your panties down.

“Please,” he breathes. “Come sit on it. I’m not even kidding. I think I’ll cry if you don’t.”

You crawl into his lap, straddle him gently, and feel how hard he is already—twitching under the waistband of his boxers. You free him with a soft gasp, stroke him once, twice, then sink down slowly onto his cock.

Sunoo whines.

Like, really whines. Head thrown back, hands twitching against the sheets.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “You’re so wet. Baby, you’re so fucking wet. And warm. You’re gonna kill me.”

You rock your hips slowly, grinding down, pussy clenching around him with each roll. He’s not moving at all—just laying there, fully at your mercy, biting his lip and moaning so sweetly it makes your toes curl.

“You’re such a good boy,” you murmur, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “Letting me use you like this.”

He whimpers. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

You ride him slow and deep, your tits brushing his chest, his cock hitting just right with every movement. He’s flushed, wrecked, totally silent except for the filthy little sounds leaving his throat.

And when you clench around him hard, he gasps and cries out:

“I’m gonna cum—oh my god—don’t stop, please, baby, I need it so bad—”

You fuck him through it. Harder. Deeper.

He cums with his mouth open, eyes wide, hips twitching under you like he’s about to pass out.

He goes still. Completely still.

Eyes closed. Breathing shallow.

You brush his hair back.

“Sunoo?”

He hums, dazed. “You broke me.”

You laugh, kiss his forehead.

“Do you want water?”

He shakes his head, voice barely audible.

“I want Mirae to sleep till she’s eighteen. Then she can move out.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

You’ve never hated your own child more than you did tonight.

You love Noa—of course you do—but after ninety minutes of pure hell (a tantrum about socks, three fake pees, one real one, and exactly zero full minutes of sleep), you’re about ready to throw yourself out the window.

Jungwon—freshly showered, soft-eyed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, licking the frosting spoon you didn’t get to finish?

You’re gonna ride his fucking face until he can’t speak.

He walks into the bedroom, hair messy, voice raspy. “She’s finally down. I think.”

You’re already pulling your shirt over your head.

He blinks. “You okay?”

“No,” you snap, kicking your shorts off. “I’ve been thinking about 69ing you for three goddamn days and if I don’t sit on your fucking face right now I will cry.”

His jaw drops. “Wait—like, now?”

You crawl onto the bed. “Yes. Backward. Full weight. No mercy.”

He’s stunned for half a second—then his cock jumps in his sweats.

“Oh my god.”

“Lie down,” you growl.

He obeys. Flat on his back, head against the pillows, already hard and leaking by the time you swing a leg over his head. You lower your soaking pussy onto his mouth, facing his cock, and his hands clamp onto your ass like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“Use my face,” he pants. “Fucking sit on it. I can take it.”

And you do.

You drop onto his tongue, grind down hard, moaning when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy and starts sucking like it’s his first meal in weeks.

You wrap a hand around his cock. He gasps into you.

“This nasty little wife,” you mutter, already jerking him off, “riding your face like she’s trying to drown you. Think you’ll pass out, baby?”

He moans. Loud. Unfiltered.

His tongue is everywhere—in your pussy, on your clit, dragging through your folds while you bounce gently on his mouth like it’s your fucking throne.

You spit on his cock. Loud. Filthy.

It lands on the head, stringy and warm, and you spread it down the shaft while you twist your wrist and sink your mouth down on him in one smooth, practiced stroke.

Jungwon chokes.

He jerks once under you—then groans into your pussy, hips stuttering like he’s going to cum already.

“You close?” you giggle, pulling off with a messy pop. “Already? Poor thing. You just want to fill my throat while I cum all over your face, huh?”

He moans. Loud.

You lick a stripe up the underside of his cock and say:

“What if I squirt all over you, baby? Would you drown for me?”

He nods into your cunt. You feel it.

So you bounce harder. Fuck his face faster. Slurp his cock between your lips like it’s your favorite flavor and moan around him when his tongue flicks just right—

You cum first.

Hard.

Your thighs squeeze his head like a death grip as you cry out, leaking into his mouth while he keeps licking, tongue working you through it while his hands pull your ass down, grinding you onto him.

You don’t even give him time to recover.

You suck his cock deep—down your throat, swallowing him whole until he cries out into your pussy and cums down your throat so hard you choke.

You swallow.

Keep sucking.

He whimpers.

When you finally lift off his face, he’s wrecked.

Mouth glazed in your slick, lips swollen, chest heaving.

You wipe your chin, swing around, and lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Next time, you better ask for it. I’m not gonna be the only one begging.”

He blinks. Tries to speak.

Fails.

You smirk.

“Sweet dreams, husband.”

He falls asleep with your taste still on his tongue.

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

The house is quiet. Monitor glowing faint on the nightstand. Just the sound of your breathing and the rustle of sheets as you look up.

He’s already shirtless. Grey sweats sitting low, waistband dipping under sharp hips. Hair messy from running his fingers through it, still flushed from cleaning up the kitchen, checking the monitor twice, pretending he wasn’t aching the whole time.

You blink sleepily.

“Come to bed, Riki.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just walks to the edge of the bed, climbs in behind you, and presses himself against your back—body warm, hard in all the places that count. His hand slides under your shirt and cups your belly. Not your tits. Not between your legs.

Just your belly.

“I miss this,” he murmurs. Quiet. Low. Dangerous.

You pause.

“You miss what?”

He kisses the back of your neck.

“When you were pregnant.”

Your breath catches.

“Riki—”

“You were glowing. Round. Always out of breath. So soft and full and mine.”

You shiver when his hand slides down—slow, reverent—and presses between your legs.

“Your body knew what I wanted before you did,” he whispers. “Now it’s empty. And I want it full again.”

You turn around to face him.

He’s already hard, pressing up against your thigh. His eyes are wild now, lips parted, flushed all the way to his ears.

“You want another baby?” you ask, barely able to breathe.

He nods once.

“I want you pregnant again, baby. I want you leaking, glowing, begging me to slow down because I won’t stop fucking you.”

You moan.

He flips you onto your back without warning, dragging your panties down, pressing his cock against your soaked entrance.

“You’d look so pretty round again. Tired all the time. Needy. Can’t even ride me properly without whining about your hips.”

You gasp as he slides in, slow and deep and possessive.

“Fuck—Riki—”

“Don’t worry,” he grits out. “I’ll fuck it into you slow. Make sure it takes.”

His thrusts are smooth, devastating. One hand gripping your waist, the other sliding under your shirt to palm your tits.

“These got so big when you were carrying,” he whispers, biting his lip. “So heavy. You hated it. I loved it.”

You whine—louder now. He smiles.

“God, you like it too, huh? Getting knocked up? Being so full you can’t think straight?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

“You’re so ready for it,” he moans. “Already dripping. Your pussy’s so greedy, baby. She knows what I want.”

He fucks you harder then. Deeper. His pace messy and obsessive.

When he cums—hot and deep and shaking—he doesn’t move.

Just stays buried inside you, breathing ragged, holding your hips like he can will it into happening.

“Keep it,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “Don’t let it go. I wanna see you big again.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him down into another kiss.

He groans.

“I’ll give you as many as you want. Just keep letting me ruin you like this.”

-

TL: @addictedtohobi @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ddolleri @elairah @zzhengyu @annybah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @hihway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @enhaverse713586 @cristy-101 @bloomiize @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02

[sunghoon-my-dear]

It's my tenth time reading this

[heecyon]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑; 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 —volume two

pairing: ceo!park jongseong x brother’s best friend!fem!reader

genre: arranged/forced marriage, accidental pregnancy, brother’s best friend, slight age gap (reader’s 22 and jay’s 24), angst, fluff and second chance love.

warning(s): grammar mistakes, curse words, nicknames, arranged marriage, suggestive scenes, mentions/allusions to sex, toxic/abusive mother, verbal abuse, vomiting, mentions of hospitals, fainting, blood, mentions of food, accidental pregnancy, cheesy ending, and bunch of fluff towards the ending, sort of toxic relationship between jay and reader.

word count: 25k+ words

summary: Just a year ago, you were forced to marry Park Jongseong, CEO of the Southern Branch, part of the vary famous Park Enterprises. It was all for the sake of your family, a marriage for the benefit of gaining more traction as a company. Jongseong was attentive, caring, sometimes even sweet, but your relationship was more about sex than it was about the marriage itself. At some point, everything got bad, and it was just mere sexual intimacy that anything else, and just when you were close to ending things…you found out you were pregnant.

disclaimer: i finally finished backburner, and it might have some grammar mistakes, it’s been a while since i wrote from a pc, but i’m so happy to have finished it, but i think that the ending is really corny and cheesy.

playlist• backburner by niki • common by zayn • dos mil 16 by bad bunny • used to this by camila cabello • astronomy by conan gray • lovers by anna of the north • lover of mine by 5sos • this love by taylor swift • julia by lauv •

volume one

CEOs & ARRANGEMENTS MASTERLIST

taglist (open): @iloveoceaneyesss @abdiitcryy @chimajeyn @sjakewrld @loves0ft @duolingofanaccount @ufoundme @sunghoons-mole @tobiosbbyghorl @dasa3040 @monkeybabyzz @snowysung @wonyofanclub @prdxinvade @dearhee @zhrtics @woinswoo @rerequire @in2jhae @darkreymbow @ahnneyong @uuwonniee @en-chantedtomeetyou @m3g00mi @sunshine-skz @sunsunst @hueningluvbotsworld @iwuvjay @zen003xx  @sunnyjayjays @pshchives @sd211

ACT FOUR: Maybe life’s less romantic when I don’t wanna die!

The first thing that you did when you arrived at the office was going to the bathroom to throw up. You were tired of the horrible feeling of vile going up your throat and how your stomach was more than empty and fell away from hunger.

You groaned from ache and tiredness, and you felt your body tense up when you heard somebody going inside the bathroom.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Haewon asked in worry.

“Yeah, just a little bit nauseous.” Your friend frowned upon your words, knowing pretty well that you were lying. “You haven’t been well for a while now, you should get that check.”

You tried to shrug it off, but the more time passed, the more concerned you grew. You knew your body pretty well, but you were basically blinded by everything going on that you just dismissed what was happening inside of you.

You let go a small nod before finally unlocking the cubicle door. “See what I tell you? You look pale, like a corpse.” She took out her phone, unlocking the screen and typing a phone number. “I’ll phone an appointment for you, this afternoon. You can’t continue being like this.”

The next few minutes, Haewon continued a small conversation with a receptionist in a well-known clinic in the city. “They have a space for you at twelve ‘o’ clock.”

At twelve ‘o’ clock you were more than busy, the meeting you had been waiting for would start around that time, and your sister needed you there.

This was going to be a problem for you… At least that’s what you thought.

“I’ll be there in your name for the reunion, I’ll talk with Juni and I’ll tell her that you have an emergency, but please…just get checked up.” You couldn’t protest anymore, and in the end you nodded in defeat.

Throughout the day, you tried to convince yourself that you were probably okay, that it was probably just a stomach bug, or stress.

You tried to remain calm when your appointment was near, a little bit of worry setting in your body.

Keep reading

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Wow

[swagaliciousbambi]

📧 ྀིྀི 𝒾────GO GO JU𝒾CE 🧴♡ׁ ׁ◜ o ◝݂ ྀི১

ᦗ 𝓵ove letter 𝒽ighly suggestive 𝒹irty talk 𝓃icknames 444 𝓌ords ──

your husband barely manages to open the door and you’re already trying to kiss his pretty lips.

“mmm… seungie ‘m so horny,” your drunk-self said, so close to his face. “i know, sweetheart. but i’m not gonna fuck you while you’re drunk, baby.” he says, as he closes the door behind you. guiding you to the couch.

you whine. “nghh, why noooot? ‘m wet, hee. ‘couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you the whole night…” you confess. “i missed you. ‘was havin’ fun with the girls but… i jus’ wanted to get home and ride you…” heeseung laughs. “is that so?” he asks. “uh huh… got me all hot and bothered. you aaalways do.”

“oh baby, you’re gone. let’s get you ready for bed, pretty, come on.” he says, his pearly whites on display, as he guides you to your bedroom’s bathroom.

you pout. “ughh i don’t wanna sleep! i wanna suck your cock!” heseeung’s face turns red—he feels so lucky to be witnessing you in this state, he’s gonna love your face in the morning when you find out all the things you said. “sweetheart, you can’t do that.” he remarked. “oh but i can! you said you like it when i’m messy.” you added, very proud of remembering what he had told you.

he chuckles, opening up the bottle of makeup remover. “princess, no sex for you tonight. tomorrow, when you’re sober and on your right mind, you can do aaall the things you wanna do to me. promise.” he says, as he’s removing the mascara from your tired eyes.

“wait… all the things i wanna do?” you ask, a smile making its way to your lips.

your husband nods. “all the things you wanna do.” he repeats.

“promise?”

“promise.”

you giggle. “…’m gonna peg you! and then i’m gonna riiiide you and you’ll play with my boobs, okay?” you say, buzzing with excitement.

heeseung can’t help but laugh, really laugh. and your drunk brain takes it as a threat. “why are you laughing? ‘m serious!” you protest.

you’re now barefaced, hair still messy from all the dancing with your friends. “and after we do all that, you’re gonna eat me out. oh my god! can you eat me out!?”

he shakes his head, amused. “yes, angel. i’m gonna eat you out all day. tomorrow.” as soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re throwing yourself at him, giving him a thight hug. “yay!! thank youuu, you’re the best boyfriend ever…” you say, letting out a dreamy sigh.

“you know i’m your husband, right baby?” your head turns so fast to see his face, a giddy smile on your mouth. “even better.”

@venushoon ᜊ( ᜊ ´ ˘) ੭♡ l𝒾brary.

[enhaflixer]

pjs - Signed, Sealed & Undone. - Part 2

A TIME TRAVEL CONTRACT MARRIAGE FIC PART ONE HERE

Synopsis: Fake marriage proposals are a tired billionaire trope.

But when Jay Park—former golden boy of Park Industries, now chaebol exile—comes back from disgrace (and back in time), he’s got one goal: rewrite the past before it destroys him.

When you, an unassuming journalist with nothing to lose, get an offer of a lifetime, you’re sure it’s a mistake.

A contract, a relocation to Seoul, and one fake wedding later, you’re still trying to convince yourself none of this is real. The only problem? Neither of you seem to remember where the performance ends and something devastatingly real begins.

WC: 11K CW (18+ MDNI) : fake marriage, slow-burn romance, power dynamics, corporate intrigue, arranged marriage trope, emotional angst, unresolved sexual tension, longing glances across boardrooms, contract loopholes, financial manipulation, morally gray billionaire!Jay, forced proximity, family expectations, betrayal, public displays of affection (for the cameras, obviously), enemies-to-allies-to-lovers, suppressed feelings, business politics, one bed trope (but make it corporate), dramatic confessions, late-night whiskey-fueled arguments, high society drama, backhanded compliments as flirting, dramatic departures followed by even more dramatic returns, lingering touches that mean too much, feelings clause not included in the contract, deep intimacy, power dynamics in a romantic context, possessive tendencies (but soft), light dominance/submission themes, clothing being undone at a painfully slow pace, tension so thick it could shatter glass, breathless dialogue, interrupted kisses that lead to frustration, and the inevitable realization that this was never fake at all.

-

Your first meeting with the Parks was not what you expected.

Chairwoman Soo-min Park, Jay's mother, welcomed you in her minimalist office overlooking Seoul's skyline. Everything about the space proclaimed power—floor-to-ceiling windows, a desk carved from a single slab of marble, carefully curated art pieces that probably cost more than your entire education.

The woman herself matched her surroundings—elegant, precise, every silver-streaked hair perfectly in place. Her handshake was firm, her assessment clinical as she gestured for you to sit.

"So," she began without preamble, "you are the woman who captured my son's attention where so many have failed."

You felt Jay tense beside you. This was your first test.

"I believe we captured each other's attention, Mrs. Park," you replied evenly. "Sometimes connection happens where you least expect it."

Something flickered in her eyes—not warmth exactly, but perhaps respect.

Her questions were direct bordering on invasive. Your education. Your family background. Your career trajectory. With each answer, you maintained the same calm directness, refusing to be intimidated despite the butterflies in your stomach.

When she asked about your professional goals, you surprised yourself with your honesty.

"Journalism lets me uncover truths others miss," you said. "I value authenticity, even when it's uncomfortable."

"Authenticity," she repeated, glancing at her son. "A rare quality in our circles."

"That's what drew me to Y/N," Jay interjected, his hand finding yours. "Her perspective is... refreshing."

Chairwoman Park studied your joined hands for a moment. "You understand, of course, that marrying into the Park family comes with considerable scrutiny. Your life will not be your own."

"With respect, Chairwoman," you countered, "my life will always be my own. I'm choosing to share it with your son and, by extension, your family. But I won't disappear inside the Park name."

A loaded silence followed. Jay's grip tightened on yours—whether in warning or support, you couldn't tell.

Then, unexpectedly, Chairwoman Park smiled. Not broadly, but genuinely.

"Good," she said simply. "Jongseong needs someone who won't vanish into his shadow. Come, I'll show you to your quarters myself."

As she led you through the compound, Jay fell into step beside you, an almost imperceptible furrow between his brows.

"My mother never personally shows guests to their rooms," he whispered. "That's what staff is for."

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I think she might actually like you."

The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

Your suite was breathtaking—traditional Korean elements blended with modern luxury. Adjacent to Jay's quarters but with your own entrance, exactly as promised in your contract.

"These were my grandmother's rooms," Jay explained after his mother left. "No one has used them since she passed. Not even guests."

"Is that significant?"

"Extremely. My grandmother was the family matriarch. The only person my mother genuinely respected." He ran his hand along an intricately carved wooden screen. "This is... unexpected."

-

That word—"unexpected"—became the theme of your first week in Seoul.

At family dinners, Jay's father questioned you extensively about American business practices, not dismissively but with genuine interest in your perspective. His uncle, who reportedly spoke only Korean in business settings on principle, made efforts to converse with you in English while praising your attempts at Korean phrases.

Most surprisingly, Jay's cousin Danny—initially the most skeptical about your sudden appearance—appointed himself your unofficial cultural guide.

"The press will tear you apart if you make certain mistakes," he explained, showing you how to properly pour drinks for elders and which honorifics to use with which family members. "Better you learn from family than from a public relations disaster."

Family. The word kept surfacing in unexpected contexts.

"Y/N is family now," Jay's father announced when authorizing your access to the private family wing of Park Industries headquarters. "She'll need to understand our operations."

"Family chooses wine together," his aunt insisted, inviting you to help select vintages for the wedding reception.

"Family protects its own," his mother stated when she discovered paparazzi had obtained your old address in New York. She immediately dispatched security to ensure your apartment was secure and your subletting friend undisturbed.

It was Danny who finally explained what was happening.

"They're closing ranks around you," he said during an impromptu shopping trip for traditional Korean accessories. "Not because they necessarily believe this whirlwind romance—"

"But they're acting like they do," you interjected, confused.

"Because Jay chose you," Danny said simply. "That's enough. If you're his, you're ours. The Pack protects its members."

"The Pack?"

"Family nickname. Not very subtle, I know." He grinned. "But accurate. We Parks might fight among ourselves, but against outsiders, we're unified."

You found yourself surprised by the Parks' fierce protectiveness. From Danny's explanations about family loyalty, it seemed at odds with the cutthroat business world they dominated.

Later, during a rare moment alone with Jay in the garden, you broached the subject.

"Your family is so... unified," you observed. "Different from what I expected."

Jay's expression turned pensive. "The Parks protect their own. That's always been the rule."

"And yet you seemed shocked by how they've embraced me."

He was quiet for a moment, staring at the stone path. "I've seen another side of them. In business, loyalty can shift suddenly when interests change. I've witnessed how quickly protection can turn to abandonment."

Something in his voice suggested personal experience—a wound not fully healed.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," you ventured carefully.

His jaw tightened. "Just cautious. The business world has taught me that today's allies can become tomorrow's executioners without warning."

He fell silent, tension radiating from his shoulders. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.

"Well, you have me now," you said softly. "And I don't abandon contracts halfway through."

His smile was hesitant but real. "That may be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, Y/N."

"I try, baby," you replied, the endearment slipping out more naturally now.

The moment lingered between you—not quite romantic, but something deeper than your initial arrangement had suggested. You couldn't help wondering what experience had made him so wary of sudden betrayal, even from his own family.

Later, alone in your suite, Jay paced like a caged tiger.

"Something's not right," he muttered. "I've never seen my mother compromise like this."

"Maybe she genuinely approves of me?" you suggested, curled in a window seat overlooking the compound's gardens. "Unlike whoever she was planning to match you with before."

"Perhaps." He didn't sound convinced. "But my mother never yields on guest lists. Never. It's unprecedented."

"Is that concerning?"

He stopped pacing, his expression thoughtful. "Unexpected, certainly. But advantageous. They're accepting you more readily than I anticipated."

"Your romantic soul overwhelms me," you teased gently.

His expression softened as he looked at you. "Sorry. Corporate strategy is my default setting."

"I've noticed, baby. It's almost endearing now."

The pet name made him smile every time—a small, private reaction that felt like a victory.

-

Three weeks before the wedding, as preparations reached fever pitch, Jay found you in your suite's private garden—your sanctuary when the pressure of performing became too intense.

"We need to discuss the honeymoon," he said without preamble, settling beside you on the stone bench.

You'd been wondering when this would come up. The wedding night and subsequent honeymoon had loomed in your thoughts—unspoken questions about proximity and expectations.

"Bali," he continued, consulting his tablet. "Private villa, secluded beach, minimal staff. I've arranged separate bedrooms, of course."

"Of course," you echoed, trying to identify the strange emotion that fluttered in your chest. Disappointment? Surely not.

"Two weeks is standard for executives of my position," he added, scrolling through details. "The villa has separate office spaces so we can both work when needed. Full security team, but stationed distantly for privacy."

"It sounds... well-planned."

Jay looked up, studying your expression. "But?"

You hesitated. "Nothing. It's appropriate for our arrangement."

He set down the tablet, turning to face you more directly. "Y/N, by now you should know you can speak freely with me."

"It's just... very businesslike," you admitted. "Which is fine. That's what this is."

Something shifted in his expression. "It is business," he agreed. "But after these weeks together, perhaps also... more than just business."

The admission hung between you, neither fully acknowledged nor dismissed.

"People will expect certain behaviors," he continued after a moment. "Public affection. Shared meals. The appearance of... intimacy."

Your mouth went dry. "You mean..."

"Nothing beyond your comfort," he clarified quickly. "But enough to convince the staff, who will inevitably report back to my family and, by extension, the press."

"Right. Our ongoing performance." You nodded, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "I can handle looking... in love."

Was it your imagination, or did his eyes linger on your lips before he glanced away?

"There's also the wedding night," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "The presidential suite at the Grand Hyatt has been secured. Very private, but hotel staff notice everything. Champagne that goes untouched. Beds that aren't slept in."

A blush crept up your neck despite your best efforts. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Nothing inappropriate," he assured you, though his own complexion seemed warmer than usual. "Just... awareness that appearance matters. The illusion of consummation without the actual act."

"Rumpled sheets and champagne glasses," you summarized, aiming for a clinical tone. "The suggestion of intimacy without crossing boundaries."

His gaze met yours, something unreadable in his expression. "Unless specified otherwise in a future amendment to our arrangement."

Your breath caught. "An amendment?"

"The contract allows for mutual revisions when both parties agree," he said carefully. "I'm simply acknowledging that... feelings can evolve. Expectations may shift over time."

The implication was clear—if physical boundaries changed between you, the option existed to formalize that evolution.

Your heart raced traitorously. "I'll consider the amendment possibility," you replied, matching his professional tone while heat bloomed low in your abdomen.

"Good," he said softly. "That's... good."

A weighted silence fell between you, charged with possibility.

"I should check on the security arrangements," he said finally, rising from the bench. At the garden entrance, he paused. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens or doesn't happen, you have my respect. Always."

After he left, you sat in the garden until twilight, wondering how a false engagement had led to what might be the most honest relationship you'd ever experienced.

-

The photoshoot among cherry blossoms marked a turning point. What began as another staged display of affection shifted when the photographer positioned you against a tree, Jay's body pressed against yours from behind.

"Kiss her neck," the photographer instructed. "Like you can't resist her."

Jay hesitated, then lowered his mouth to the sensitive spot below your ear. The touch of his lips sent electricity down your spine. You couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped you—one that had nothing to do with performance.

His arms tightened around your waist in response, and you felt him inhale sharply against your skin.

"Now turn and kiss properly," the photographer demanded. "Passionate but elegant."

You turned in Jay's arms, expecting the usual carefully controlled press of lips—three seconds, no movement, just enough for the camera.

Instead, when your mouths met, his lips parted immediately. Without thinking, you responded in kind, your hand sliding into his hair as the kiss deepened. His groan, too quiet for anyone else to hear, was undeniably real. Seven seconds stretched to ten before you separated, both breathing harder than the situation warranted.

"Perfect!" The photographer exclaimed. "The chemistry is explosive!"

In the car afterward, heavy silence hung between you.

"That was..." you began.

"Convincing," Jay finished, his knuckles white on his knee. "Very convincing."

But that night, sleep proved elusive as you replayed the feeling of his mouth against yours, his hands tightening on your waist, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressed against you during that brief moment.

-

The final wedding rehearsal was scheduled for exactly one week before the ceremony—a full dress run-through to coordinate the complex choreography of family processions, ceremonial exchanges, and media moments.

You stood in the bride's preparation room, attendants adjusting the simplified version of your wedding hanbok, when commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Sharp voices in Korean—too fast for your intermediate skills to follow, but the tension was unmistakable.

Danny appeared at the door, his expression tense. "Small situation. Nothing to worry about."

"What kind of situation?" you asked, recognizing the forced casualness in his tone.

He hesitated. "Unexpected guest. Jay's handling it."

Before you could press further, the door opened again. Jay entered, his face a carefully composed mask that didn't quite hide the tension around his eyes.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Perfect," he replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just a minor protocol issue."

He was lying. After weeks together, you'd learned to read the subtle tells in his expression—the slight tightening around his mouth, the barely perceptible furrow between his brows.

"Babe, come on.."

He met your gaze, then sighed. "We should speak privately."

Once the attendants had been dismissed, he took your hands in his.

"Seraphina Visconti has arrived in Seoul," he said without preamble. "Apparently for a 'routine business meeting' with Korean shipping companies."

Your stomach tightened at his expression. Though he'd never mentioned this woman before, his reaction told you everything you needed to know. This was someone significant. Someone threatening.

"Who is she?" you asked directly.

Jay hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The daughter of an Italian shipping magnate. Her family has been trying to establish business connections with Park Industries for some time."

There was more to the story. Much more, judging by the tension radiating from him.

"And?" you prompted.

"And at one point, she was someone my mother considered a suitable match for me." His jaw tightened. "Her arrival, one week before our wedding, can't be coincidence."

Understanding dawned. "She was a candidate. Before me."

"Yes." Something dark flickered in his eyes. "The Visconti connection would have been... strategically valuable."

"But you chose me instead," you said slowly. "And now she's here to what? Object at the ceremony?"

"The Viscontis don't give up valuable connections easily," he replied grimly. "If they can't secure a Park alliance through marriage..."

"They'll seek another inroad," you finished. "Business partnerships, friendships, however they can get close to your family."

He nodded. "She's requested a meeting with my mother tomorrow. To 'extend congratulations' on my engagement."

The subtext was clear. This woman represented exactly the kind of strategic alliance Jay had been so determined to avoid when he proposed to you. Her presence was a direct challenge to your arrangement.

"What do we do?" you asked.

Jay's expression hardened with determination. "We proceed exactly as planned. But we must be extra vigilant. Seraphina is... persuasive. She can make fiction sound like fact and manipulation feel like coincidence."

You squeezed his hands, an unexpected protectiveness surging through you. "I'm not going anywhere, Jay. Remember, I keep my contracts."

Something flickered in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or something deeper.

"There's something else you should know," he said quietly. "Seraphina and I... we had some history. Brief, but potentially something she might leverage."

"I understand," you assured him, an unexpected pang of something like jealousy surfacing. "You don't need to explain."

"No, I do." His grip tightened. "Because there was never anything real between us. It was strategic on both sides. But with you..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "With you, the strategy has become... complicated."

Your pulse quickened. "Complicated how?"

Before he could answer, a knock interrupted the moment. Danny again, looking apologetic.

"Sorry to disturb, but she's here. At the rehearsal. Somehow she convinced the event coordinator she was on the guest list."

Jay's expression darkened. "Of course she did."

He turned back to you, his gaze intense. "Stay close to me. Don't let her isolate you or my family members. She's skilled at creating divisions."

You nodded, a strange mix of anxiety and determination rising within you. "I'm ready."

"Y/N," he said softly, bringing your hand to his lips in a gesture that felt more genuine than performative. "Thank you for being here. For being real."

As you stepped into the hallway together, his arm protectively around your waist, you couldn't help wondering what Jay wasn't telling you about this woman—and why her arrival had shaken him so deeply.

Something bigger was happening beneath the surface of your arrangement. Something Jay was keeping from you.

And for the first time since accepting his proposal, you wondered if there were secrets within your contract that might eventually tear it apart.

-

The rehearsals for the wedding ceremony required hours of practice—precise movements, timed responses, careful choreography. Two weeks before the wedding, after yet another exhausting day of preparations, you found yourself alone with Jay in the family's private study, reviewing final details.

"If I have to make one more decision about fucking flower arrangements, I might lose my mind," you groaned, kicking off your heels and curling into the corner of the leather sofa.

Jay laughed—a real laugh, not his public chuckle. "The Parks have been arranging strategic marriages for generations, but I doubt any of my ancestors had to choose between thirteen different shades of white roses."

"Is that what we're doing? A strategic marriage?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

His smile faded. "That was the agreement."

"I know what the agreement was," you said, studying him. "I'm asking what we're doing now."

The question hung between you, dangerous in its directness.

Jay moved to the bar cart, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to you, then sat beside you on the sofa—closer than necessary. You found your eyes drawn to the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he leaned back, the top button undone revealing just a hint of collarbone. When had you started noticing these details?

"I don't know anymore," he admitted, the rare honesty catching you off guard. "This has become...complicated."

You took a sip, welcoming the burn. "Because of the kiss?"

"Which one?" The question surprised you both. He continued quickly, "The photographer. The press appearance last week. The practice for the ceremony. We've kissed numerous times."

"You know which one I mean."

His eyes met yours over the rim of his glass. "Yes. I do."

Another silence, this one charged with possibility.

"We could try again," you suggested, your heart hammering. "Without the photographer. Without the audience. Just to... clarify things."

Jay set his glass down carefully. "That would be crossing a line."

"We drew those lines. We can redraw them."

He studied you, his expression guarded. "Why would you want to?"

"Because I'm tired of pretending I don't feel anything when you touch me," you answered honestly. "Because I'm curious if whatever happened during that kiss was real or just... heightened performance."

"It was real," he said quietly. "At least for me."

The admission hung in the air between you, neither advancing nor retreating from it.

"So?" you prompted.

He exhaled slowly. "So this is dangerous territory. Emotions complicate strategy."

"Fuck the strategy," you said, setting your own glass down. "Just for a minute. Just be Jay, not Park Jongseong with his perfect plans."

Something shifted in his eyes—the careful calculation giving way to something darker, more urgent. His hand moved to your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone in a touch too intimate for strategy.

"If I kiss you now," he said, voice low, "it won't be like the others."

"Good." You held his gaze steadily. "I don't want it to be."

He closed the distance between you slowly, deliberately—giving you time to retreat. You didn't.

His lips met yours, and immediately you understood the difference. This wasn't performance. This was hunger—controlled, but barely. His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head as the kiss deepened. You moved closer, your hand finding his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath expensive fabric.

When his tongue traced the seam of your lips, you opened to him willingly, a small sound escaping your throat. He groaned in response, the arm around your waist tightening, pulling you half onto his lap.

The kiss turned desperate, months of controlled touches and careful boundaries dissolving under the heat of genuine desire. His hand moved to your thigh, sliding upward beneath the hem of your dress, fingers tracing patterns on sensitive skin.

"We should stop," he murmured against your mouth, even as his hand continued its upward path.

"Probably," you agreed, making no move to pull away. Instead, you shifted fully onto his lap, straddling him. The position brought you into direct contact with unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

"Fuck," he hissed, his composure fracturing further. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a slow, deliberate movement against him.

The friction was exquisite even through layers of clothing. You tangled your fingers in his perfect hair, destroying hours of careful styling as you deepened the kiss.

His mouth moved to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. "Tell me to stop," he said against your skin, his breath hot. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

In answer, you rolled your hips more firmly against his, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

"I want this," you breathed. "I want you."

His control snapped. In one fluid movement, he had you on your back on the sofa, his weight deliciously heavy as he settled between your thighs. His mouth reclaimed yours with new urgency, one hand sliding higher under your dress, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

A sudden noise in the hallway outside—a staff member passing by—broke the spell. Jay froze, then slowly pulled away, his breathing ragged.

You both stared at each other, the reality of what had almost happened settling between you.

"That was..." he began, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"Definitely not in the contract," you finished, adjusting your disheveled clothing.

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "No. It wasn't."

"Do you regret it?" You had to know.

He considered for a moment, straightening his tie with hands not quite steady. "I regret the interruption," he said finally. "Not the action."

Something warm unfurled in your chest. "So what now?"

"Now we should probably get some sleep." He stood, offering his hand to help you up. "Separately," he clarified, though the reluctance in his voice was evident.

You nodded, accepting his help. As you stood, he didn't immediately release your hand.

"This changes things," he said quietly.

"Yes." There was no denying it.

"We should discuss it. Tomorrow, when we're both thinking more clearly."

But tomorrow brought a crisis with the venue. The day after, an issue with security arrangements. Each evening ended with meaningful glances and careful distance—both of you acutely aware of the shift but unable to find the right moment to address it.

The unresolved tension built with each passing day, each careful touch that lingered too long, each glance that held too much promise.

-

The wedding was a masterpiece of carefully orchestrated moments—traditional Korean ceremony in the morning, Western exchange of vows at sunset, both executed with flawless precision despite Seraphina's strategic presence in the third row.

Throughout both ceremonies, Jay maintained perfect composure, his hand steady as he placed the ring on your finger, his voice unwavering as he recited vows that sounded surprisingly heartfelt for a contractual arrangement.

"I choose you," he said, his eyes holding yours with unexpected intensity. "Above all others, against all expectations, I choose you."

Only you noticed the way his gaze flickered briefly toward Seraphina when he spoke the words.

At the reception, she approached with practiced grace, champagne flute in hand and calculated warmth in her smile.

"Such a...surprising match," she said, air-kissing your cheek. "Jay never mentioned you during our time together in Europe."

"Some connections don't need public announcement to be meaningful," you replied smoothly, feeling Jay's hand tighten at your waist.

Her smile never faltered. "How fortunate that his mother's plans changed so suddenly. We all thought—" She laughed lightly. "Well, it hardly matters now."

Before you could respond, she turned to Jay. "Your uncle mentioned the Hanjin merger is progressing. Fascinating choice, considering."

Something shifted in Jay's expression—fear, barely controlled.

"If you'll excuse us," he said abruptly, "my wife and I should greet the ambassador."

He guided you away with uncharacteristic urgency, his composure fractured.

"What was that about?" you whispered.

"Nothing. Just Seraphina being Seraphina." But his eyes kept scanning the room, tracking her movements like someone monitoring a bomb.

-

The presidential suite at the Grand Hyatt was everything Jay had promised—lavish, private, with discreet staff who delivered champagne then vanished.

Yet the tension from the reception followed you. Jay paced by the windows, making calls in rapid Korean, his tone increasingly agitated.

When he finally ended the last call, you confronted him directly.

"What's going on? And don't say 'nothing' again."

He stared at you for a long moment, conflict evident in his expression.

"I need to check something at the office," he said finally. "A document that shouldn't exist."

"Shouldn't exist?" You frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I'll explain when I return." He was already reaching for his jacket. "Please, Y/N. This is important."

"It's our wedding night!"

"I know." He paused at the door, genuine regret in his eyes. "Two hours, maximum. Then I'll tell you everything."

After he left, you paced the suite, frustration mounting. Whatever game he was playing with Seraphina clearly went deeper than corporate rivalry.

On impulse, you opened his laptop—the one he always kept with him, password protected and closed whenever you approached.

The password prompt glowed accusingly. You tried his birthdate. Access denied. His mother's name. Access denied.

Then, on a hunch: YN-contract-date.

The screen unlocked, revealing dozens of folders meticulously labeled and dated. One caught your eye: "Original Timeline - Evidence."

Heart pounding, you clicked it open.

News articles. Court documents. Photos of Jay looking years older, haggard, defeated.

A marriage announcement with Jay and Seraphina, dated three years earlier.

Headlines about corporate espionage, Jay's disgrace, his removal from Park Industries—all dated years in the future.

The room seemed to tilt as you opened a video file.

It showed Jay—older, with strands of gray at his temples—standing in an empty apartment, speaking directly to the camera.

"If you're watching this, it worked," the Jay in the video said. "I don't know if the consciousness transfer will be complete or if I'll remember everything, so I'm recording key details. The Hanjin merger is the trigger point. Seraphina orchestrated everything through her connection with Chairman Kang..."

He continued methodically outlining his downfall, his eventual disgrace, names and dates and evidence.

"Time travel is theoretically impossible," he concluded. "But so is the pain of having your entire life stripped away in a single day. If there's any chance of preventing it..."

The video ended abruptly.

You stared at the dark screen, heart racing. Time travel? Consciousness transfer? Future knowledge?

"I'm losing my mind," you whispered to the empty room.

You closed the laptop, then opened it again, half expecting the folders to be gone. They weren't.

Maybe this was an elaborate fiction—research for some project, a game, a psychological exercise. Because time travel couldn't be real. That would mean...

The implications made your head swim. That would mean Jay had known about meeting you at the gallery before it happened. That he'd orchestrated everything—your meeting, your relationship, your marriage—as part of some grand design to change a future that had already happened.

It would mean everything between you was calculated, predetermined, false.

"No." You shook your head. "This isn't real."

But the evidence on the screen didn't vanish. Future dates. Future events. Things that hadn't happened yet detailed with journalistic precision.

By the time Jay returned, you'd gone through half the champagne and were sitting on the floor, back against the bed, laptop open beside you.

"Y/N." He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene. "What are you doing?"

"Having a psychotic break, apparently." You gestured vaguely at the laptop. "Either that or marrying a time traveler. I'm not sure which is more concerning."

His face drained of color. "I can explain."

"Explain what? That you're from the future?" You laughed, a brittle sound. "That's literally insane, Jay. I'm insane for even considering it."

He approached slowly, as if you were a frightened animal. "You're not insane."

"Then you're saying it's true? That you—what? Traveled back in time to avoid marrying Seraphina? To prevent some corporate disaster?" The words sounded ridiculous as you spoke them. "Do you realize how that sounds?"

"I know it sounds impossible." He knelt in front of you, keeping a careful distance. "But you've seen the evidence."

"I've seen elaborate fiction. Or I'm hallucinating. Because time travel isn't real." You ran your hands through your hair. "People don't just wake up five years in the past with a chance to redo everything."

"I didn't think it was possible either." His voice was steady, gentle. "Until it happened."

"So what am I to you?" The question escaped before you could stop it. "A convenient pawn in your time-travel chess game? A random variable you introduced to change your precious timeline?"

Pain flashed across his face. "Initially? Yes. I sought you out deliberately at the gallery. I remembered our brief conversation from my original life, and you seemed...perfect. Outside my world. Beyond manipulation."

The confirmation hurt more than you expected. "So you manufactured everything. Our relationship. Our connection. All of it."

"No." He moved closer, carefully taking your hands. "The plan, yes. The contract, yes. But what's grown between us? That wasn't planned. That wasn't strategy."

"How can I believe that?" You searched his face. "How can I believe anything now?"

"Because I'm telling you the truth when I could keep lying." His grip tightened. "Because I'm risking everything by admitting this to you."

"Or I'm having a complete mental breakdown and none of this is happening." You pulled your hands away. "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be back in my apartment in New York. Maybe this whole thing—you, Korea, all of it—is some elaborate delusion."

"It's not," he said firmly. "You're not crazy, Y/N."

"Prove it." You met his eyes. "Tell me something that will happen. Something specific. Something I can verify."

He hesitated. "The stock market—"

"No. Something personal. Something that matters to me."

Jay thought for a moment. "Priya and Jake will announce they're expecting a baby next month. Earlier than they planned to tell anyone, but there will be complications and they'll need support."

Your heart stuttered. "That's cruel. Using my friends—"

"Call her tomorrow if you don't believe me. She took a test two days before our wedding but didn't want to steal your moment."

"Stop it." You stood up, needing distance. "I can't—this is too much."

"I know." He remained kneeling, looking up at you. "And I'm sorry. I never intended for you to find out like this. Or at all, honestly."

"That's worse! You were just going to lie forever?"

"I was going to fulfill our contract. Two years, then release you with everything promised." He rubbed his face. "The timeline is already changed beyond recognition. My purpose was accomplished."

"Your purpose." The words tasted bitter. "Which I was instrumental in without my knowledge or consent."

"Yes." No excuses, just raw admission.

You moved to the window, staring out at Seoul's glittering skyline. Everything suddenly felt alien—the city, the marriage, the man behind you.

"I need time to process this." Your voice was steadier than you felt. "I need to... I don't know, call Priya tomorrow. Verify your claim. Try to determine if I'm actually having a psychotic break."

"Of course." He stood but didn't approach. "Whatever you need."

"I'll sleep in the second bedroom tonight."

He nodded, accepting this without argument. "For what it's worth, Y/N, whatever brought us together—time travel, fate, strategic planning—what's grown between us is real. At least for me."

You couldn't respond to that. Not yet. Not when you weren't even sure what reality was anymore.

As you gathered your things for the night, one question burned through the confusion.

"Why did you do it? Why come back?"

Jay's answer was simple and devastating in its honesty.

"Because I lost everything. And I couldn't bear to live through it again."

You closed the bedroom door between you, then pressed your forehead against it, tears finally escaping.

Either your husband was a time traveler who had manipulated your entire relationship, or you were completely losing your grip on reality.

You weren't sure which possibility terrified you more.

Sleep proved impossible. Around 3 AM, you gave up trying and reached for your phone, scrolling until you found Priya's number. It would be afternoon in New York.

Your thumb hovered over the call button. This was ridiculous. You couldn't just ask your friend if she was pregnant based on your time-traveling husband's inside information.

But you needed to know. Needed some external verification that either confirmed you were sane or confirmed you weren't.

With a deep breath, you pressed call.

"Y/N!" Priya answered on the third ring, her voice bright. "Should you be calling me on your wedding night? Shouldn't you be, you know, occupied?"

"Just checking in," you said, aiming for casual. "How are you feeling?"

A pause. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." You pressed on. "You seemed tired at the wedding. Jake was hovering more than usual."

Another, longer pause. "Okay, that's weird. We literally told no one."

Your heart stopped. "Told no one what?"

"Y/N..." Priya's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you psychic or something? I'm pregnant. Six weeks. We weren't going to tell anyone until the second trimester, but I've been spotting, and the doctor says..."

The room tilted as she confirmed exactly what Jay had predicted. Exactly what shouldn't be possible for him to know.

"That's wonderful news," you managed, though your voice sounded distant to your own ears. "I'm so happy for you. And whatever's happening, I'm here, okay?"

After reassurances and promises to talk soon, you ended the call and sat motionless in the dark.

It was real. All of it. Which meant Jay had truly traveled through time. Had truly sought you out as part of his plan. Had truly married you to prevent some alternate future.

You moved to the door, pulled it open, and found Jay sitting on the floor in the hallway, back against the wall.

"Couldn't sleep either?" you asked.

He looked up, dark circles under his eyes. "Not really."

"I called Priya."

Understanding flashed across his face. "And?"

"She's pregnant. She's spotting. Everything exactly as you said." You slid down the wall to sit beside him. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know." His honesty was strangely comforting. "I went to sleep in my apartment five years in the future and woke up here, in the past. I've spent every day since then trying to prevent the sequence of events that destroyed my life."

"Including marrying me instead of Seraphina."

"Yes." No hesitation, no sugar-coating.

You both sat in silence for a long moment, shoulders almost touching.

"I'm still angry," you said finally. "And confused. And honestly, a little terrified."

"I understand."

"But I also..." you struggled to find the words, "I also can't deny what's happened between us. That feels real, even if the foundation was a lie."

Jay turned to face you. "It is real. The beginning was calculated, yes. But everything since—the late night conversations, the moments when no one was watching, the things we've shared—those weren't strategy. Those were just... us."

"Is that even possible? To find something genuine inside a manufactured situation?"

"I don't know." He reached for your hand tentatively. "But I'd like to find out."

You stared at his outstretched hand, the wedding ring glinting in the dim light. A contract. A strategy. A lie.

And yet, underneath it all, something had grown that neither of you had planned.

After a long moment, you took his hand.

"I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not having some elaborate psychotic break," you said with a shaky laugh.

"If it helps, in my extensive experience with both time travel and mental breakdowns, this feels more like the former."

That surprised a genuine laugh from you. "Oh well, if you're an expert..."

His answering smile was hesitant but real—the smile of the man you'd grown to care for, time traveler or not.

"So what now?" you asked.

"Now we figure this out together," he said simply. "No more secrets."

"No more secrets," you agreed.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, a question in the look.

You answered by leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his—your first real kiss, not for show, not for strategy, but because despite everything, you wanted to.

His response was immediate and overwhelming, arms pulling you against him as the kiss deepened. Months of performed affection crystallizing into something genuine and urgent.

"Y/N," he breathed against your mouth. "Are you sure?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm not sure about anything anymore. But I want this. I want you."

He stood, pulling you up with him, searching your face one more time before lifting you into his arms and carrying you toward the master bedroom.

Whatever came next—whatever impossible reality you were living in—at least this part would be real.

Jay carried you to the bedroom, his movements both gentle and urgent. In the dim light filtering through the windows, his eyes never left yours—searching, questioning, even as he lowered you onto the bed.

"Are you certain?" he asked again, hovering above you. "With everything you now know..."

You reached up, tracing the contour of his face. This face you'd come to know so well, yet belonged to someone with secrets you were only beginning to understand.

"I'm not certain about reality anymore," you whispered. "But I'm certain about wanting you."

Something broke in his expression—the careful control he'd maintained since you met him fracturing completely. He lowered his mouth to yours with an intensity that stole your breath, his kiss no longer measured or performative but raw with need.

Your bodies had been close before—staged embraces for photographs, choreographed affection for observers—but this was different. His weight pressing you into the mattress felt like an anchor in a world suddenly unmoored from everything you thought you knew.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your neck, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "No script. No strategy. Just us."

"Everything," you breathed. "I want everything that's real."

His hands trembled slightly as they moved to the zipper of your dress—the man who negotiated billion-dollar deals without blinking suddenly unsteady with wanting. The vulnerability in that small tremor undid you.

You helped him with the fastenings, the dress soon forgotten on the floor. He paused to look at you, his expression almost reverent.

"I've imagined this," he confessed. "Not as part of the plan. Just as a man wanting a woman."

Your own fingers worked at his shirt buttons, needing to feel skin against skin. "How long?"

"Since Washington Square Park. When you laughed at that Ukrainian restaurant. I wanted to kiss you then, contract be damned."

The admission sent heat spiraling through you. All those controlled touches, those careful boundaries—beneath them, he'd been wanting this too.

When his shirt joined your dress on the floor, you ran your hands over the planes of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Not the measured rhythm of Park Jongseong, corporate heir, but the accelerated tempo of Jay, the man who wanted you.

His mouth found yours again as his hands explored with increasing boldness—tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breast, his thumb circling your nipple through delicate lace until you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, trailing kisses down your neck, between your breasts, his tongue tracing patterns that made you shiver. "I've thought about this for months."

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he unhooked your bra with practiced ease, his mouth closing around your nipple while his hand kneaded your other breast. The careful restraint he'd always shown was nowhere in evidence now—replaced by hunger barely contained.

"Jay," you gasped as his teeth grazed sensitive flesh. "More."

He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Say it again."

"More," you repeated, understanding he meant something else.

"My name," he clarified, voice hoarse. "Not for show. For me."

"Jay," you whispered, then louder. "Jay."

Something fierce and possessive crossed his features. He moved lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your stomach, his fingers hooking into your underwear and slowly drawing them down your legs.

When he settled between your thighs, his breath hot against your most intimate place, he paused again, looking up at you.

"This isn't strategy," he said softly. "This is just me wanting to taste every part of you."

Your answer was lost to a gasp as his mouth closed over you, his tongue exploring with deliberate precision. This was Jay applying the same focused attention he gave to corporate acquisitions to your pleasure—finding exactly what made you tremble, what made your breath catch, what made you cry out his name.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as you began to unravel beneath his relentless attention. When he slid one finger inside you, then another, curling them forward while his tongue continued its assault, the tension building inside you shattered.

You came with his name on your lips, your body arching off the bed, one hand fisted in his hair while the other clutched desperately at the sheets.

Before you'd fully recovered, he was moving up your body, his expression almost feral with need. He shed his remaining clothes with uncharacteristic urgency, his erection heavy against your thigh as he positioned himself above you.

"Protection?" you managed, your mind still hazy with pleasure.

"Nightstand." He reached over, retrieving a condom and sheathing himself with efficient movements. Then he was there, poised at your entrance, searching your face one last time. "Y/N?"

You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer. "Now, Jay."

He sank into you with a groan that sounded almost pained, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes open—connection beyond the physical as he filled you completely.

"You feel..." he began, words failing him for perhaps the first time since you'd known him.

"I know," you whispered, understanding perfectly.

He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust measured and deep. But as your bodies found their rhythm, as your hips rose to meet his, the careful control he prided himself on began to slip.

His movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged against your neck. You ran your nails down his back, urging him on, needing more of whatever this was—this genuine connection amid so much calculated deception.

"Y/N," he gasped, his rhythm faltering. "I can't—"

"Let go," you urged, feeling yourself climbing toward another peak. "Just let go."

Something inside him broke at your words. His next thrusts were almost desperate—hard, deep, relentless. One hand slipped between your bodies, finding where you were joined, his thumb circling your sensitive flesh.

"Come with me," he commanded, his voice raw. "I need to feel you."

The intensity in his eyes, the command in his voice, the precise circles of his thumb—it was too much. You shattered around him with a cry that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have been a curse at the universe that had brought you to this impossible moment.

He followed moments later, his release triggering aftershocks of pleasure through your still-pulsing body. His arms gave out, and he collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the most grounding way possible.

For long moments, there was only the sound of your mingled breathing gradually slowing, his heart pounding against yours.

"That wasn't in the contract," you finally said, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He lifted his head to look at you, a smile spreading across his face—genuine, unguarded. "I believe that qualifies as an amendment."

"A very thorough amendment," you agreed, brushing damp hair from his forehead.

He rolled to the side, taking you with him, keeping your bodies connected. "I may require multiple amendments. To ensure complete clarity."

"Very prudent," you murmured, tracing patterns on his chest. "Contracts should be explicit."

His expression sobered slightly. "Y/N, what happened between us just now—"

"Was real," you finished for him. "Whatever else isn't, that was."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing your forehead. "I didn't travel through time expecting to find you. That wasn't part of the plan."

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed. His hand traced lazy circles on your back. "I'm still not entirely sure how it happened. The time travel or...this."

You settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not having an elaborate psychotic break."

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "If so, it's an exceptionally vivid one."

"Maybe that's all life is," you mused. "Vivid hallucinations we choose to believe in."

His arms tightened around you. "Then I choose this one. With you."

You lay together in comfortable silence, the questions and complications temporarily held at bay by the simplicity of skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat.

Tomorrow would bring reality crashing back—Seraphina's machinations, the timeline Jay was trying to alter, the complex web of truth and deception that had brought you to this point.

But for now, in the quiet darkness of a wedding night never meant to be real, you'd found something neither of you had anticipated in your carefully constructed arrangement.

Something genuine in a world of strategic fabrication.

Something true in a reality bent by impossible physics.

Something neither time nor planning could have engineered.

Epilogue: Three Years Later

"I said I wanted to relax on the beach, not hike up a mountain," you grumbled, one hand braced against your lower back, the other resting protectively over the prominent curve of your seven-month pregnant belly. "This babymoon was supposed to be about pampering, not cardio."

Jay looked back at you from several steps ahead on the winding trail, his expression softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and the slight breathlessness in your voice.

"It's hardly a mountain, angel," he said, immediately returning to your side. "More of an elevated pathway with strategic viewpoints. But we can turn back if you're uncomfortable."

You leaned into him as his arm slid around your waist, supporting some of your weight while his other hand came to rest alongside yours on your belly. "A 'strategic viewpoint' is what you called that cliff in Santorini last year, and I nearly had a heart attack."

"You said the photos were worth it," he reminded you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I was being polite. I was actually contemplating pushing you over the edge for making me climb all those steps."

His laugh rumbled against you, warm and genuine. In three years of marriage—one beyond your original contract—that laugh had become more frequent, less guarded. When you'd first met, Park Jongseong's calculated public chuckle had been as meticulously controlled as everything else about him. Now, Jay laughed openly, especially with you.

"The Park heir doesn't back down from challenges," you added, perfectly mimicking his mother's crisp tone and slight accent. "Isn't that what your mom told me last week when I complained about the nursery color palette meetings running four hours? Who needs eighteen shades of 'celestial' anyway? They're all just... blue."

Jay winced. "If you quote my mother again while we're on vacation, I'm flying Danny out here to keep you company. He's been dying to revisit that story about my high school talent show performance."

"The K-pop cover?" Your eyes lit up with mischief. "With the leather pants and the hair gel? Please do. I've only seen the photos, but the video footage would make excellent blackmail material for the next twenty years of parenting."

"I looked good in those pants," he defended, though his hand moved to massage the sore spot on your lower back that had been bothering you since morning.

You groaned appreciatively as his fingers found exactly the right spot. "Keep doing that and I might not share the existence of those photos with our daughter when she's old enough to be mortified by her father."

"Negotiating already? She's not even born, and you're forming alliances against me." His tone was playful, but the tenderness in his expression whenever he referenced your unborn child made your heart flutter. The man who had once approached marriage as a tactical business arrangement now spent evenings reading pregnancy books and speaking Korean lullabies against your belly.

"Another ten minutes to the overlook," he promised, thumb working circles against your lower spine. "Then we'll head back to the villa. I promise it's worth it."

You sighed dramatically but allowed him to guide you forward. "Our daughter better appreciate all this hiking I'm doing for her. She's been practicing her taekwondo moves on my bladder all morning."

"She's already plotting her corporate takeover strategy," Jay said, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "A true Park."

"God help us all," you muttered, though your free hand squeezed his in affection. "One strategic mastermind in the family was enough."

"You forget your contract negotiation tactics. You extracted a villa in the Maldives with private chef, daily massages, and no conference calls for two weeks. Our daughter is getting the best of both of us."

"Speaking of strategies," you said, pausing to catch your breath, "I've been thinking about names again."

Jay groaned dramatically. "Not this again. We had a system. A spreadsheet with weighted attributes and cultural significance metrics."

"I'm vetoing the spreadsheet." You continued walking, leaning heavier on his support. "No child of mine is going to be named via algorithm."

"It's not an algorithm, it's a—"

"Strategic naming methodology with comparative analysis," you finished for him. "I've heard the pitch, Mr. Park. Still vetoing it."

He sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "What names are you considering now?"

"I like Mina."

"That's actually on the spreadsheet's top five. Strong in both cultures, elegant, historical significance—"

"I don't care about your spreadsheet points. I like how it sounds."

"Alright, angel. Mina stays on the list." His easy acquiescence was still something you were getting used to. The Jay you'd first met would have defended his methodical approach for at least another ten minutes. "We still have two months to decide. Unless she makes an early entrance."

"Don't even suggest it," you warned. "After what your mother said about Park babies always arriving precisely on schedule, like their corporate acquisitions? I think she'd be personally offended if this baby came early."

"Chairwoman Park does not acknowledge the existence of unscheduled deliveries," he agreed solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. "Though she did order the hospital's maternity wing renovation completed a month ahead of schedule, just in case."

"Your mother terrifies me," you admitted. "And somehow I still adore her."

"She feels the same about you. She told Uncle Jimin you're the only person who's ever successfully changed her mind during a board meeting. He said she sounded proud."

"She should be. That sustainable investing initiative is going to increase profits by twelve percent next quarter."

Jay grinned at you. "Look at you, talking profit margins and quarterly projections. Remember when you said you'd rather die than become a 'corporate drone'?"

"I maintain that position," you insisted. "I'm an independent consultant who happens to occasionally advise the largest conglomerate in South Korea. Completely different."

"Of course," he agreed diplomatically. "Just like I'm not a workaholic, I just have 'dedication to operational efficiency.'"

You bumped your hip against his. "You've been better. Only three midnight emails this month."

"All emergencies," he defended.

"The color of the fonts on the annual report was not an emergency, Park."

"Brand consistency is critical to market perception," he began, then caught your expression and laughed. "Fine. Not an emergency."

When you reached the overlook, the view did indeed steal your breath—crystal-clear waters stretching to the horizon, the private cove of your Maldives villa visible in the distance, pristine white sand contrasting with vibrant turquoise.

"Damn it," you murmured.

"Excuse me?" Jay raised an eyebrow.

"You were right. It was worth it." You leaned back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you, hands cradling your belly. "Don't look so smug."

"I would never," he said, not bothering to hide his satisfied smile. "Besides, being right is just part of my charm."

You elbowed him gently. "Your humility is what I love most about you."

"That and my strategic viewpoint selection."

"And your modesty. Clearly."

His hands splayed wider across your belly, and as if on cue, your daughter kicked sharply against his palm. The look of wonder that crossed his face at the contact never diminished, no matter how many times he felt it.

"That was a strong one," he said softly.

"Tell me about it. I'm pretty sure I'm growing a future taekwondo champion in here."

"Like her mother," he said, his voice warm with admiration. "Strong. Determined."

"Cranky when hungry?" you suggested.

"I was going to say 'formidable when provoked,' but your phrasing works too." His chin rested on your shoulder, and you felt his smile against your neck. "She's already perfect."

The simple sincerity in his voice made your hormones send tears threatening. You blamed pregnancy emotions, but the truth was deeper. This man—who had literally traveled through time to avoid destruction—was now embracing a future neither of you could predict or control, with complete certainty that it was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Did you ever imagine this?" you asked, gesturing vaguely at your belly, at the two of you standing on this pristine outlook. "When you made that original contract proposal at that ridiculously expensive restaurant?"

"It was hardly ridiculous. Their wine list was impeccable." His deflection was automatic—the old Jay momentarily surfacing.

"You know what I mean," you persisted. "Did time-traveling Jay ever see this coming?"

He was quiet for a moment, his chin resting on your shoulder. "No," he finally answered with characteristic honesty. "This was never part of the strategy. My plan ended with avoiding the merger, preventing Seraphina's sabotage, maintaining family control of the company."

"Very romantic objectives."

"I didn't believe in romance then," he reminded you. "I believed in risk management."

"And now?" you asked, turning slightly to see his face. "Disappointed that your perfect plan got derailed by unforeseen variables? Namely, catching actual feelings for your contract wife?"

His eyes met yours, that intense gaze that still made your heart skip. "The plan was to avoid disaster," he said seriously. "I got happiness instead. That's not a detour, angel. That's a miracle."

"Don't go soft on me now, Park. What would the shareholders think?" you teased, though you leaned into his touch as his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"They'd think I finally made a sound investment with appropriate long-term growth potential," he replied, matching your business terminology while his eyes remained soft.

"Oh? And what's the projected ROI on this particular acquisition?"

"Immeasurable," he said simply, the single word holding more genuine emotion than the countless practiced speeches he'd given over the years.

"A time-traveling corporate heir and a skeptical journalist walk into a gallery..." you began, a reference to how you often joked about your improbable origin story.

"Sounds like the setup for a terrible joke," he finished, smiling against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Or the perfect story," you countered when you separated. "Though no one would believe it."

"Danny believes it," Jay said dryly. "After walking in on us arguing about whether my future knowledge of the 2024 Olympics constituted gambling when I placed those bets."

"In my defense, it absolutely was cheating."

"In my defense, we donated all the proceeds to charity."

"After I made you," you reminded him.

"A minor detail." His hand moved in slow circles over your belly, soothing both you and the active little one inside. "Speaking of details, that cloud formation suggests a weather change within the next hour. Ready to head back? I've arranged for a prenatal massage at the villa."

You narrowed your eyes. "Did you plan this entire hike timing based on weather patterns?"

"I may have consulted three different meteorological reports and timed our arrival at the overlook for optimal viewing conditions before the afternoon clouds moved in," he admitted without a hint of shame.

"Your level of extra never ceases to amaze me." You shook your head, but couldn't suppress a smile. "This is why I keep you around, Park. Your strategic planning has its advantages."

"Just fulfilling the terms of our renegotiated contract," he replied, guiding you carefully back toward the path. "Section four, paragraph three: 'Husband agrees to ensure wife's comfort during pregnancy with particular emphasis on lower back support, regular food provision, and optimal weather condition monitoring.'"

"You need to stop letting your legal team draft our personal agreements," you laughed. "But I appreciate the thoroughness."

"The legal team wanted to include a footnote about reasonable expectations regarding my ability to control weather patterns, but I refused. I have standards."

"Of course you do." You laced your fingers with his as you began the descent. "Tell me more about this massage. Did you fly in some exclusive practitioner from Sweden who only treats royalty and tech billionaires?"

"Of course not," Jay scoffed. "She's from Norway, and she primarily works with Olympic athletes. Royalty is just her side clientele."

You burst out laughing. "You're impossible."

"I believe the term you used last week was 'extra but endearing.'"

"I was being generous."

"You usually are," he said, his tone shifting to something more sincere. "With your patience. Your understanding. This journey hasn't been... conventional."

"Conventional is overrated," you replied, squeezing his hand. "Though I do plan on writing a book someday. 'How to Negotiate Your Way from Fake Marriage to Real Happiness: A Time Traveler's Guide.'"

"Catchy title. Limited market though."

"You don't know that. There could be dozens of time travelers out there, all looking for contractual arrangements that evolve into genuine love stories."

"Dozens seems optimistic."

"Says the man who literally bent physics. You don't get to talk about 'optimistic.'"

The banter continued as you made your way back to the villa, a luxurious beachfront property that somehow combined Jay's taste for refined elegance with your insistence on comfortable practicality. Like your relationship, it shouldn't have worked on paper, but in reality, it was perfect.

Later, after the Norwegian masseuse had worked miracles on your pregnancy-strained muscles, you lounged on the villa's private deck while Jay prepared dinner—another evolution that would have seemed impossible three years ago. Park Jongseong, corporate heir and strategic mastermind, now insisted on cooking for you at least twice a week, a skill he'd developed with the same methodical precision he applied to business acquisitions.

"Your mother called while you were in the shower," you mentioned as he served grilled fish with a mango salsa he'd perfected over the past year. "She wanted to know if we'd considered her suggestion about the trust fund structure."

Jay paused, wine bottle hovering over your glass of sparkling water. "Please tell me you didn't discuss financial planning during our vacation."

"Of course I did. I told her your idea about the educational milestone incentives was better than her straight distribution plan, and that the sustainable investment portfolio she proposed needed more diverse clean energy holdings."

He stared at you for a moment before breaking into a laugh. "Three years ago, you called investment banking 'legalized gambling for people with too much money.'"

"I stand by that assessment," you replied primly. "But if our daughter is going to have Park money, it might as well be responsibly managed Park money that does some good."

"Our daughter," he repeated, a smile softening his features as he set down the wine and rested a hand on your belly. "I still can't quite believe it sometimes."

"Which part? That we're having a baby, or that you're having one with the woman you initially approached as a strategic human shield against corporate sabotage?"

"Both," he admitted. "Though more the latter. When I found you at that gallery, I was looking for a solution to a problem, not..." he gestured between you, "whatever miracle this is."

"A solution to a problem," you echoed thoughtfully. "That's not the most romantic description of your future wife I've ever heard."

"Would you prefer 'tactically advantageous alliance partner'?" he offered with a straight face.

"Much better. I'm swooning."

His expression grew more serious. "You know what I mean. I wasn't looking for connection then. I didn't think I needed it—or deserved it, after what happened."

"After what was going to happen," you corrected gently. "A future you prevented."

"Semantics," he said with a slight shrug, though you both knew it was more than that. The guilt he carried for actions his alternative self might have taken had taken months of conversations to address.

"Did I ever tell you," you said, changing tactics, "that I almost didn't go to Priya's gallery that night? I had a deadline the next day and was planning to skip it."

"You hadn't mentioned that." He looked up, intrigued.

"I finished the article early and decided last minute that I should support my friend." You took a bite of fish, appreciating the perfect balance of flavors. "One small decision. Go to a gallery or stay home. And here we are."

"The butterfly effect."

"More like the exhausted-journalist-who-finished-work-early effect, but sure." You smiled at him across the table. "Time travel or not, I think we were supposed to find each other."

"I don't believe in destiny," he reminded you.

"Says the time traveler."

"Time travel is physics. Theoretically. Destiny is..."

"Also physics, if you think about it. Predetermined paths, fixed points in spacetime."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been reading physics journals again?"

"Maybe. The baby likes quantum mechanics. She kicks when I read about wave-particle duality."

"Of course she does," he said proudly, as though your unborn child's apparent interest in physics was a personal achievement. "She's brilliant like her mother."

"And modest like her father," you countered, though you couldn't help the warmth that spread through you at the compliment.

That night, as you lay in bed with Jay's body curved protectively around yours, his hand resting on your belly where your daughter occasionally pressed a foot or elbow against his palm, you reflected on the strange, wonderful path you'd traveled.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured against your hair, always attuned to your shifting moods even when you thought he was drifting to sleep.

"About how sometimes the best futures are the ones we can't plan," you replied, covering his hand with yours. "Even for time travelers."

He chuckled softly. "Especially for time travelers."

"Do you ever miss it?" you asked. "The certainty of knowing what comes next?"

"Never," he said without hesitation, his arm tightening around you. "The future we're creating is better than any I could have foreseen. Besides, certainty is overrated. Where's the excitement in knowing every outcome?"

"Says the man who made a career of eliminating variables and calculating risk."

"I've developed a taste for the unpredictable," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear that still made you shiver. "A certain journalist taught me the value of beautiful chaos."

"Chaos theory," you murmured. "Small changes in initial conditions leading to wildly different outcomes."

"Exactly." His hand splayed wider across your belly. "One gallery opening. One conversation. One impulsive dinner invitation that wasn't in my original plan."

"Was anything about that night not calculated?" you asked, genuinely curious. After all this time, there were still pieces of his original strategy you occasionally discovered.

"The way you looked at me," he said softly. "When I made that comment about the abstract painting being 'deliberately obtuse to mask the artist's technical limitations.'"

"I remember. I laughed and said you were 'refreshingly honest for someone wearing a watch that cost more than my rent.'"

"That's the moment I deviated from the script," he admitted. "In my original timeline, we had a brief, pleasant conversation and never saw each other again. But something about your reaction made me want more. That dinner invitation afterward wasn't planned."

"So I have your impulsive deviation to thank for all this?" You gestured vaguely at your life together.

"That, and your capacity to negotiate a marriage contract like you were dismantling a hostile takeover bid."

"I was thorough," you defended. "Anyone would be when being asked to marry a virtual stranger for business purposes."

"You demanded a custom sleep number bed, a language tutor who specialized in colloquial rather than business Korean, and a contract clause about maintaining your own journalistic independence even when writing about companies connected to Park Industries."

"All reasonable requests."

"The Hawaiian pizza provision was a bit much."

"A woman has to draw the line somewhere. No pineapple on pizza in our household is a hill I'm willing to die on."

His laugh vibrated against your back, comfortable and familiar. "I love you, angel. Unreasonable pizza restrictions and all."

"I love you too," you replied, shifting to face him despite your unwieldy belly. "Strategic time-traveling and all."

As you drifted toward sleep in his arms, your daughter shifted inside you, a gentle reminder of the impossible journey that had led to this moment—a contract transformed into commitment, strategy evolved into love, calculation giving way to the beautiful chaos of a life built together.

Sometimes the best vows were the ones you never planned to make, but discovered you wanted to keep anyway.

And sometimes the most calculated beginning led to the most wonderfully unpredictable destination.

fin.

Taglist: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @annybah @zzhengyu @naurwayyyyy @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @lovelycassy @highway143 @koizekomi @jaeyunsbimbo @cutehoons02 @deluluscenarios @bubbletaeq @lamin143 @dearestdreamies @heeheeyeoiizz01 @heewhoresimp @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @loudpeachdetective @cristy-101 @ash-engen @miuwonis @pinkglitterpuke @theothernads

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Oh my, I should have been studying, but I couldn't stop reading

[i2sunric]

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 (s.jy)

PAIRING: boxer-dad!jake x mom!reader (f)

SUMMARY: being married to a boxer is frightening— twice as much when you’re raising a child (or two) with that very same man. but none of it matters, not really, because your love for him is unconditional, stronger than fear, deeper than doubt, and it has always lived beyond the reach of worry.

WARNINGS: boxing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, pet names (baby, love), fear, love making (it’s just the last scene and barely narrated, but you can choose to skip it), starring yunjin huh (lesserafim), babies (jihoon/james & jiheon/jane). lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 12th May 2025

WC: 9.2k

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14

NOW PLAYING: Brisbane by Youth in Revolt & Heavenly by Broadside

a/n: the meds against allergy the doctor gave me make me feel high so sorry if there are any errors or shit. anw let me know your thoughts on this fic! 🩷 i honestly like it sm (my search history is full of synonyms lol) and please, if you haven’t, read the sunghoon!dad fic i wrote too!

©️don’t copy or steal this fic & please REBLOG to share.

You always woke up first. That was just the way it went.

The early sun never failed to warm your face through the slightly cracked blinds of your shared bedroom, golden light slipping across the foot of the bed like it belonged there.

Jake’s arm was slung heavy around your waist, his breath slow and deep against the nape of your neck, and just a little too warm. One of his legs was tangled with yours, as if even in his sleep he couldn’t stand to be far from you.

And at the foot of the bed, curled up with a stuffed gray bunny that was beginning to unravel at the seams, was James— Jihoon when he was in trouble.

Five years old. Barely able to tie his shoes right, but already carrying Jake’s stubbornness in his bones.

You shifted gently, trying not to wake Jake as you slipped out from under his hold.

He grumbled something incoherent in his sleep and reached out for you, but you were already halfway to the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before little feet padded after you, and then James was clambering onto a chair at the table, face still puffy with sleep, hair a mess.

“Toast?” you asked.

He nodded, rubbing at one eye. “With honey.”

You ruffled his hair before turning to the counter. “You’re getting too used to sweet things in the morning.”

“It makes me run faster,” he insisted, already kicking his legs under the table like he had a hundred miles of energy to spend.

Behind you, you heard Jake’s heavy steps thudding down the hallway, groggy and shirtless, his curls a wild mess. He kissed your shoulder as he passed, then bent over to ruffle Jihoon’s hair too.

“Morning, champ.”

“Morning,” James beamed. “Can we box today?”

Jake laughed as he sat down. “You wanna box again?”

James nodded so hard his curls bounced. “I’m gonna be a boxer just like you!”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just buttered the toast. Carefully.

Jake noticed. Of course he did.

After six years, he could read you better than anyone. “We’ll be careful,” he said softly, glancing at you over James’ head.

“Boxing’s not a game,” you replied quietly. “It’s not— it’s not something I want him dreaming of every night.”

Jake’s eyes softened, and he reached for your hand as you placed the plate of toast down. “I know, I know it scares you. But he doesn’t see the blood or the bruises. He just sees his dad being strong.”

You looked at him, feeling your chest ache. “That’s exactly why I’m scared.”

James munched on his toast without a care in the world, his feet swinging. “Can I come to your next match?” he asked suddenly, crumbs on his lips. “Please, please, please, pleeeeeease?”

Jake blinked, surprised. “What, the next one? That’s in two days, James.”

“I’m big enough,” he declared, sitting up straighter. “I wanna watch, I wanna cheer. Please, mommy?”

You looked at him, at his big, pleading eyes.

At the innocence behind them.

And then you looked at Jake, with the same eyes who looked torn between pride and guilt. It wasn’t fair— how much James looked like both of you at once, how easily he could tug at your heart.

You sighed. “We’ll see.”

Which really meant yes. Because you were never good at saying no when it came to them.

That night, you helped James into Jake’s old boxing gloves. They were far too big, slipping past his wrists, practically swallowing his arms.

He tried to throw punches, but they were mostly flailing motions that made Jake laugh until he was nearly wheezing on the floor.

You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, trying not to smile too much.

Jake caught your eye, cheeks flushed, a sheen of sweat on his collarbones from messing around with James. “See? He’s a natural.”

“He’s five.”

“He’s my kid, he’s gonna be unstoppable.”

James fell over trying to jab at Jake’s leg. “Gotcha!” he shouted.

Jake swooped down and scooped him up, holding him upside down while James shrieked with laughter. “You got me, huh? You sure about that?”

“Daaaaaaad!”

“You gonna knock me out one day, champ?”

“Yeah! One punch!”

You bit back a laugh as you walked over, flicking Jake’s shoulder. “Put him down before he vomits dinner.”

“Fine,” Jake groaned, dropping James onto the couch. “You both take all the fun out of my life.”

James poked his tongue out at him. “No I don’t. I’m your best fun.”

Jake looked at him for a long second, eyes warm, and then over at you. “You both are.”

Two nights later, the arena smelled like sweat and nerves.

You had James on your lap, his little legs tucked close to his chest, his hands gripping a paper cup of juice too tightly.

The crowd was loud, the lights bright, and your heart was beating way too fast for someone who wasn’t even in the ring.

Jake stepped into the spotlight wearing his mouthguard and gloves, robe slung low over his shoulders.

He looked fierce. Serious. Beautiful. Like the fighter you’d first met back in college, when he was reckless and full of fire, but still somehow managed to be the kindest boy you’d ever known.

Jihoon bounced excitedly. “There he is! Look, mom, look!”

“I see him, baby.”

The bell rang.

The fight started.

And something was wrong.

You could tell, even if the others couldn’t.

Jake’s steps weren’t as light, his dodges not as quick. The other guy was aggressive, coming in hard and fast, and Jake—he was getting hit. A lot.

Your stomach twisted.

“Mom,” James said, his voice small now. “Why’s dad not winning?”

“He’s trying,” you whispered, arms tightening around him. “He’s okay, he’s— he’s just warming up.”

But then Jake stumbled. His lip was split.

His shoulder sagged like he’d pulled something.

And your son started to panic.

“Mom, he’s hurt. We gotta go help him.”

“James, no, listen to me— he’s gonna be okay, you can’t—”

But your words weren’t fast enough.

James wriggled out of your arms before you could catch him, ducking under the security rope, sprinting across the edge of the crowd.

Someone shouted. You were on your feet, your heart in your throat, but James was already halfway to the ring.

“Jihoon!”

He scrambled up through the ropes, small enough to slip between them, and ran straight to his father.

Jake didn’t even notice at first, too dazed by the last punch.

“Stop the fight!” you screamed. “Stop it, my son’s in there!”

The ref blew his whistle furiously, waving his arms. The other boxer dropped his stance immediately, confused.

Jake blinked down— and froze.

“Champ?”

James launched into his chest, wrapping his tiny arms around his waist. “Don’t let him hit you again! I’ll fight him for you!”

Your vision blurred with tears as you rushed down toward the ring.

Someone opened the gate for you, and you ruan inside, breath shaking, legs trembling.

Jake had dropped to one knee, one arm around James, the other shaking as he pulled his mouthguard out.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What are you doing, buddy? You can’t be in here.”

“You were losing,” James mumbled, clutching him tighter. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Jake let out a laugh that sounded like it hurt. “I’m okay. It’s just a match.”

“You were bleeding.”

Jake looked up at you then, and his face — Lord, his face —he looked so sorry. So wrecked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve never let him come. This was too much.”

You knelt down beside them, pulling James into your arms, running a hand through his hair. “You scared me,” you whispered. “You can’t run off like that, Jihoon. Ever.”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled. “I just— I didn’t want him to lose.”

Jake leaned in, pressing a kiss to both your foreheads. “I’ll never lose anything that matters, okay? Because I’ve already got you.”

The crowd was murmuring. Officials were everywhere. The match was called off.

Jake was disqualified, but he didn’t care.

All he cared about was you. And James. Safe. In his arms.

Later, in the locker room, after everyone had gone, Jake sat with James asleep in his arms, still wearing one glove that dwarfed his hand.

You sat beside him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Promise me,” you murmured, “that if he really wants to fight when he’s older…you’ll teach him how to be smart. How to be safe.”

Jake nodded, kissing the top of Jihoon’s curls. “I promise. But for now…I just want him to dream about anything else. Anything safer.”

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “You scared me tonight.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Jake.”

He turned, eyes soft. “I love you too.”

And in that quiet moment, with your son snoring softly between you and the world finally still, you felt it again— that fragile, powerful kind of happiness that could only exist when you had everything you loved right there in your arms.

☆.

It was supposed to be your morning to sleep in.

The deal was sacred: on Sundays, or holidays, or any day the world wasn’t demanding something from the two of you at dawn, one of you got to stay in bed while the other kept James entertained.

It had been years of trial and error, balancing exhaustion with parenting, love with chaos, but you’d found your rhythm.

This morning, you were supposed to be nestled in the warmth of the blankets while Jake took James to the kitchen for cereal and cartoons.

You’d heard them shuffling around in the other room— Jake’s low, sleepy voice, and James, wide awake, asking if he could have two bowls because he was ‘super strong today’.

But instead of dozing off again like you usually did, a sharp pain twisted through your stomach, a heat blooming behind your navel and spreading like fire.

You jolted upright, cold sweat already rising on the back of your neck, and before you could think or breathe or blink, you were rushing out of bed.

The bathroom door hit the wall when you shoved it open, and you barely made it to the toilet in time before your stomach gave out.

Violent, sudden.

Your knees hit the tile hard as your body curled in on itself.

“Baby?” Jake’s voice, thick with sleep, came from the hallway.

You couldn’t answer. The retching had stolen all the air from your lungs.

There were small footsteps, bare feet padding quick against the floor, and then James’s voice, high and worried. “Mommy?”

Jake was there a moment later, crouching beside you, his hand on your back.

“Shit— hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He was rubbing gentle circles into your spine, his other hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead.

You forced yourself upright, gasping, “Phone. Get me my phone.”

Jake didn’t waste time asking questions. He was up in a flash, bolting down the hall.

But it was James who surprised you.

He knelt beside you, mimicking his father’s earlier movements, his tiny fingers clumsy as they gathered your hair and held it back.

“I’m here, Mommy,” he whispered. “You’re okay. Daddy’s coming.”

You shut your eyes for a second, heart swollen even through the pain. “Thank you, baby.”

Jake returned a beat later, sliding to the floor with your phone in one hand, his other reaching out to feel your forehead. “You’re burning up. Do you want me to call the doctor? What do you need?”

You didn’t answer at first, just searched the appa until you found the period tracker one.

You looked at him — really looked at him — and said, hoarse and quiet, “My period’s late.”

That madew him pause.

He glanced briefly at James, still by your side, loyal and worried and trying so hard to be brave.

“Late?” he asked.

You nodded. “Like…late late. And I know July’s always weird for me, and sometimes it skips, but this… this isn’t like that. This is…”

Jake caught on. He stood and reached for the bathroom cabinet before you could finish.

His hand went straight to the little white box buried behind cough syrup and cotton pads. The spare test.

He held it up. “This?”

You nodded, pressing a palm against your stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over you.

Jake knelt again and gently coaxed James to his feet. “Hey, buddy. Can you go watch TV for a bit? I’ll bring you snacks soon, I promise.”

“But—Mommy—”

“She’ll be okay,” Jake said, smoothing a hand over James’ss head. “I promise. Just give us a few minutes.”

James hesitated, looking from you to Jake, before finally nodding and stepping out of the room with one last glance over his shoulder.

You leaned back against the wall, breath shaky. Jake helped you up and steadied you with an arm around your waist.

“I’ll wait out there,” he said quietly, placing the test in your hand.

“No,” You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Don’t go.”

He hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Alright. I’m here.”

The test took less than a minute to take. But it felt like a year.

You placed it on the edge of the sink, both of you staring at it like it might jump to life and scream the answer at you.

You were still sitting on the toilet lid, knees tucked up, your arms hugging them to your chest.

Jake sat across from you on the closed tub, elbows on his thighs, eyes flicking between the floor and your face and the tiny plastic stick.

You broke the silence. “We weren’t planning this.”

Jake gave a breathy laugh that had no humor in it. “We weren’t really planning anything back then, either… when we had James.”

“That was different,” you said.

He met your eyes. “Was it?”

You bit your lip, chest tightening. “It feels scarier now.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a second. Then he moved closer, kneeling in front of you.

His hands found yours, his fingers cold from the tile but steady. “Whatever it says…you’re not alone in this. You’re never alone, love.”

“I threw up everywhere.”

“Still not alone.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, and for the first time since the pain had woken you up, you let yourself cry.

Just a little.

Jake held you through it, fingers curling into your hair, his lips pressing against your temple.

When the ten minutes were up, the test was still face-down on the sink.

Jake turned it over.

He didn’t say anything at first.

You looked at his face, trying to read it. He was too still. His jaw clenched once, then loosened.

His eyes flicked up to yours, wide and stunned.

You stood slowly, walking to the sink, feeling your heartbeat rattle in your ribs.

You saw the two lines.

Pregnant.

Your stomach swooped. Your hands trembled.

“Oh my god.”

Jake was behind you in a second. His hands came around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“That’s real,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“That’s real.” you said, more convinced.

Jake nodded, kissing your cheek softly. “Looks like we’re doing it again.”

You turned in his arms, eyes brimming, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “What if I can’t handle it? What if it’s too much?”

“You will handle it,” he said firmly. “Because you’re strong. And because I’m here, and we already made the best little human in the world. We can do it again.”

You clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “He’s gonna be a big brother.”

Jake pulled back just enough to smile at you. Really smile. “Can you imagine him? With a little sibling running after him?”

“He’ll boss them around.”

“He’ll protect them.”

You laughed again, eyes still blurry with emotion. “We need to tell him.”

Jake looked toward the door. “Now?”

You paused. “Not yet. Let’s just…hold it, just for a little bit. Just ours.”

He nodded. “Just ours.”

There was still pain. Still nausea. Still fear.

But Jake was here. You were here. And there was life, again, starting inside you.

Another heartbeat waiting to be loved.

☆.

You never liked hospitals.

They always smelled too clean, too sharp, like something was being covered up.

But you went anyway, let Yunjin drive you in her little too-fast-for-comfort car with her playlist blaring.

She didn’t let you argue. Not when she saw the look on your face after the test. Not when she showed up with a fresh croissant and a determined, no-bullshit attitude.

“I’m not letting you stay in bed and Google symptoms until you give yourself a panic attack,” she said. “We’re going to the doctor. I’ll hold your hand, throw up with you, whatever you need.”

True to her word, she was there when you lay back on the crinkly white paper of the exam table, heart in your throat, the sonographer squeezing warm gel onto your skin.

She didn’t let go of your hand once.

AAnd there it was.

That flickering heartbeat.

Tiny. So small it didn’t feel real until it pulsed across the screen like a drum.

You stared at it, lips parted, heart unraveling. The image was hazy, grainy, but it was there, this new, growing piece of you. Of Jake. Of your family.

You cried, of course. You always cried at these kinds of things, even if you tried not to.

Yunjin blinked hard a few times herself. “You’re really doing this again, huh?”

You laughed, a watery sound. “God, yeah.”

“You’re stronger than me.”

“No I’m not,” you said. “You’d be amazing.”

She squeezed your hand. “But right now, this baby’s gonna have the coolest mom on earth… and well, aunt, duh!”

When you finally did tell your son, Jake was the one who brought it up.

James had been building a Lego tower in the living room, lying on his stomach in his little dinosaur pajamas, humming to himself.

Jake sat beside you on the couch, his hand on your thigh, a soft press of reassurance.

“Hey, bud,” Jake said, ruffling his son’s hair, “we’ve got something kinda cool to tell you.”

James looked up, blinking, pieces of Lego clutched in each hand. “What?”

Jake looked at you. You nodded, and he smiled. “You’re gonna be a big brother.”

James blinked again. “What?”

You leaned forward. “There’s a baby growing in my tummy, sweetheart.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, “A baby? In there?” He pointed, alarmed, at your belly, which still looked more like you’d eaten too much lunch than anything else.

You laughed. “Yeah. In there.”

His mouth dropped open. “Is it gonna pop out soon?”

“Not soon,” Jake said. “You’ve got a few months, but eventually, yeah.”

James crawled closer, pressing his little hand against your shirt like he was trying to feel the baby through your skin. “Is it a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” you said.

He tilted his head, clearly deep in thought. “Will it like dinosaurs?”

“I hope so,” Jake said, laughing.

James was quiet again for a moment, looking at you, then Jake, then back to you. “Do I have to share my snacks?”

You smiled. “Only if you want to.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said solemnly. “But only if it doesn’t touch my T-rex.”

“Deal,” Jake said.

And just like that, James accepted it.

Sort of. He had questions, of course— How does the baby breathe? Will it be loud? What if it’s a girl and doesn’t like trucks?

But in the end, he was still the sweetest baby boy on earth.

☆.

The first trimester was cruel.

The toilet became your closest companion.

Mornings were the worst: your body felt hijacked, your stomach constantly roiling, everything smelling too strong or too wrong.

Jake woke up every day with you, even when his eyes were heavy with sleep and his matches were approaching.

Even when his training hours stretched him thin. He still tried to take up time to stay with you, to train younger boxers instead of boxing himself.

But what surprised you most was James.

He’d peek into the bathroom every morning, hair sticking out in wild directions, clutching his little stuffed dinosaur by the arm.

And if Jake wasn’t already holding your hair back, James would quietly step in and do it.

He never complained.

He just stood there with a serious look on his face and said things like, “You’re doing a good job, Mommy,” or “It’s okay. Sometimes I throw up when I eat too much candy, too.”

Jake started calling him your bodyguard.

James puffed his chest with pride every time.

Sometimes, when the nausea got bad enough, Jake would carry you to bed, settle behind you, and James would crawl in on your other side and whisper stories to the baby. “Today I drew a robot. When you come out, I’ll draw you, too.”

It was in that moment that you realised you had won in life.

.

☆.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t usually a big deal for the two of you.

You’d never been the candlelight-dinner, wine-glass-clinking, heart-shaped-everything type of couple.

Your love was built on early mornings and grocery runs, on whispered goodnights and holding hands during hospital appointments, on parenting and partnership and choosing each other again and again, even on the days when your patience was thin and the dishes were stacked high in the sink.

But this year felt different.

You woke up to the soft creak of your bedroom door opening and the quiet shuffle of socks across the floor.

Your belly was heavy, so round and taut it felt like you were a balloon stretched to its final inch of give.

And you were tired. So tired.

But when you opened your eyes, you saw them— Jake, holding a bouquet of slightly squashed red roses, and James peeking from behind his leg with something hidden behind his back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jake murmured, kneeling on the edge of the bed and brushing a kiss against your forehead.

James stepped forward, biting his lip, then presented you with…a crayon drawing of what looked like three lopsided people holding hands. “This is us,” he explained proudly. “That’s you, and that’s Daddy, and that’s me, the little one in your belly is a circle. I didn’t know if it’s a girl or a boy.”

You took it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Maybe it was.

Jake handed you the flowers with a sheepish smile. “James wanted to get you chocolates, but I told him flowers are important too.”

“Mommy should have both,” James declared.

“You taught him well,” you said, kissing your husband’s lips. Then you reached under in the bedside table drawer and pulled out a wrapped box you’d hidden last night. “And so did I.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

He unwrapped it to find a tin of dark chocolate truffles and a new pair of wraps for training —embroidered with Best Father Farter across the edge.

His smile cracked wide. “Oh my god.” he laughed loudly “I love them!”

James clambered onto the bed between you both. “Can we eat cake now?”

“After lunch,” you said, laughing. “But yes. Later, we’ll eat cake.”

Jake cooked lunch while you sat on a stool in the kitchen, rubbing your belly and trying to ignore the low ache that had been bothering you all morning.

James danced around in his socks, insisting on wearing a tie for ‘the special day’c and you let him because he looked too cute not to.

The cake was store-bought, a simple one with little pink sugar hearts, but James was excited about it like it was some magical treasure.

You stood up to grab a knife to cut the first slice.

You didn’t even make it to the drawer.

Pop.

The sound wasn’t loud, but you felt it in your body, a deep, sudden release of pressure.

Warmth gushed down your legs.

You froze.

Jake, mid-laugh, stopped. “Did you— did you drop something?”

You looked down at your soaked pants. Then up at him.

“Oh my god.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Is that—? Is it happening?!”

“Yes! Jake, yes— go grab the hospital bag!”

James gasped, horrified. “You peed yourself?!”

“I didn’t pee myself, baby,” you said through gritted teeth as the first cramp twisted through your belly. “The baby’s coming.”

James blinked. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Jake was moving at light speed— or maybe no speed at all.

He dropped the bouquet. Nearly tripped over James.

Grabbed his phone, then the car keys, then forgot both again.

“Okay, bag— hospital bag, where’s the— where did we—where did you put it?”

“By the door, Jake!” you snapped. “Where it’s always been.”

He stumbled off, yelling back, “I knew that! I’m calm!”

“You’re not calm!”

James was clinging to your leg like a baby koala. “Is the baby falling out right now?”

“No,” you hissed, hand gripping the table as another contraction hit, sharp and fast. “But soon if we don’t move.”

“Should I call someone?” Jake shouted from the hall.

“Yes! Call Yunjin. She needs to come stay with James!”

“I’m already on it!” he yelled back, fumbling his phone.

Yunjin picked up after two rings.

“You’re gonna want to get here,” Jake said, voice too high. “It’s happening. She’s— her water broke. Like actually broke. It’s go time.”

You grabbed the phone from him as he rushed back in. “Yunjin, please— just get here.”

“I’m on my way, don’t panic,” she said, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “Tell James I’ll bring candy.”

“I’ll tell him if I survive.”

You handed the phone back to Jake, your hands trembling. “Get the car ready. I’ll get shoes.”

“You’re not getting anything. I’m carrying you.”

“Jake—”

“I’m carrying you,” he repeated, gently but firmly.

James watched the whole scene unfold like a movie, his eyes wide. “Will it hurt?”

You knelt down, wincing, brushing his cheek. “Yeah, honey. It’s going to hurt. Daddy’s going to be with me, don’t worry. you’re gonna be the best big brother ever.”

He nodded, lip trembling. “I’ll tell the baby that I love her.”

Jake kissed his forehead, voice thick. “You tell her that in person. We’ll be back with your sister soon.”

The hospital was a blur of fluorescent lights and quick footsteps and voices that felt like they were underwater. m

The pain hit in waves, and each time it crashed, you wanted to scream— but you didn’t.

Not yet. Not until it got worse.

And god, it got worse.

Nine hours of it.

Jake never left your side, not for a second.

You yelled at him at least three times.

“Stop talking,” you growled at him during hour five, when he was trying to distract you with some nonsense story about his first amateur fight.

He shut up. Immediately. Nodded like a soldier.

Later, when you were gripping the rail of the bed so hard your knuckles went white, you hissed, “I hate you.”

“I know,” he said.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Got it.”

“Wait, no— touch me again.”

He grabbed your hand without hesitation. “Right here.”

You screamed. He let you crush his fingers.

And when it finally happened,.

the world shrank to pressure and burning and breathless, broken sounds, you gave one last push and everything stopped.

Then—

A cry.

High and raw and brand new.

They placed her on your chest, and your hands shook when they curled around her tiny, wriggling body.

She was pink and warm and squalling like she was furious about the whole ordeal.

You sobbed.

Jake sobbed more.

Your forehead pressed to hers as you whispered, “Hi, baby. Hi, Jane… Hi, Jiheon.”

Jake kissed your temple a hundred times, his face wet with tears. “You did it. You did so good.”

“She’s so small,” you whispered.

“She’s perfect.”

You looked at her again, this little piece of you and Jake and everything that had ever been good between you.

You were exhausted, ripped open and aching, but she was here.

Your daughter.

And she was worth it all.

☆.

The world came back slowly.

Not in one clean breath, but in fragments, blinking against the dim hospital room light, the hum of machines, the sterile scent of disinfectant layered beneath something warm.

Familiar.

Jake’s cologne.

Your throat was dry, lips cracked, body heavy— wrecked didn’t even begin to describe it.

Your stomach ached with the aftershock of labor, your muscles trembling in the stillness, and for a moment, you couldn’t even tell what time it was.

Everything had blurred together into hours of pain, blood, cries, and the weight of her tiny body on your chest before darkness finally pulled you under.

But now—now it was night.

The sky outside the narrow window was ink-dark, the city lights dulled by the thickness of the glass.

You shifted just slightly, wincing at the soreness that radiated through your hips and spine, and turned your head.

He was there.

Jake was sitting in the corner chair beside your bed, hunched forward with a blanket cradled against his chest, shoulders curved inward like a shield.

His hair was a mess,, and his eyes were fixed on her with an expression so full of awe it punched the breath right out of your lungs.

He was crying. Quietly.

Not the dramatic, shaking kind of crying— just slow, steady tears, running along the curve of his jaw and down to his neck as he stared at his daughter.

“Jaeyun…” Your voice cracked like ice underfoot.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at you at first.

“She’s sleeping,” he whispered, brushing one callused thumb over her cheek, his voice so soft it barely stirred the air. “She has your nose.”

You watched him from the bed, your vision still cloudy, but yourr heart was awake now.

He looked so still, so unlike the chaotic Jake you’d known for years.

Not the boy who forgot his keys five times a week.

Not the man who cheered too loud at James’s school recitals. This was something different.

This was a father. Again.

You reached out with a hand that shook from effort. “Let me see her.”

Jake finally turned, startled like he hadn’t realized you were awake.

He sniffed, blinking hard as he carefully got up. “You’re awake,” he said, voice cracking. “God, you— are you okay? You fainted right after they took her. They said you were just exhausted, but you were out. I thought—” He paused. Swallowed. “I’ve been watching you sleep for hours.”

You blinked slowly. “You’re not supposed to say that like it’s romantic, stalker.”

That got a breath of laughter out of him, ragged and wet. He came to the side of the bed, kneeling so he could ease Jane down into your arms. “Here,” he murmured. “Hold her again.”

You adjusted your pillow, barely able to sit up.

But he helped, supporting your back, brushing the strands of hair away from your damp forehead. And then she was there, small and warm and impossibly real in your arms again.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered. “Hi, little Jane.”

“Jiheon,” Jake added softly. “That’s what I’ve been calling her. She likes it… i think. She keeps making this face when I say it— look.” He leaned in and repeated it again in a whisper, “Jiheon.”

Jane shifted slightly, scrunching her face before relaxing again. A barely-there smile tugged at Jake’s lips.

“You look like a dad of two now,” you murmured, brushing your finger along her hair. “There’s something different in your face.”

“I feel different.” He pressed his forehead to your shoulder and just breathed there for a second. “Like… more breakable.”

You rested your cheek on top of Jane’s head and closed your eyes. “You’re not. You’re stronger than you think.”

He pulled back and sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle either of you. “Do you remember what you said during hour seven?”

“Which part? I said a lot of things.”

“You said if I ever touched you again, you’d break my nose.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Still stands. For a while.”

Jake grinned and leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Fair. I’ll wait.”

You both sat there for a while, in the stillness that only came in the dead of night, surrounded by beeping monitors and the soft breathing of your daughter.

After a while, he reached out and brushed the back of his finger over Jane’s tiny fist. “She’s got my ears.”

You snorted. “Poor girl.”

He laughed, pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders. “James is gonna love her.”

“He already does,” you said. “He kept talking to my belly like it was a walkie-talkie.”

Jake smiled again, softer now. “He’s gonna be the best big brother.”

You were quiet for a while.

Just breathing. Just holding her.

And him holding you.

Then, your voice cracked the silence, barely a whisper.

“Thank you.”

Jake blinked. “For what?”

“For giving me them.” You looked down at Jane. “For giving me you.”

His face crumpled a little. “You gave me everything back.”

☆.

Coming home was a blur of motion and scent and warmth—soft clothes, white noise, the lingering chill of February air clinging to your coats and hair as you stepped into the house with a car seat cradled between both hands.

Jane was still asleep.

That delicate, floating sleep only newborns seem capable of, where their tiny chests rise like feathers and fall again, their mouths puckering occasionally, eyelashes still damp against their cheeks.

Your arms ached from holding her, your legs felt like jelly, and your stomach was a quilt of stretched skin and healing muscle, but lord— you were finally home.

Jake carried the bags in with one arm and hovered behind you like you might fall at any second.

His hand was low on your back. “You okay?”

“I’m… tired,” you admitted, your voice raspy with lack of sleep and recovery, but your eyes were clear. “But yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. I want this moment to be good.”

You looked over at him. “It will be.”

James had been waiting by the window.

The second you stepped inside, his feet came skidding over the hardwood floors in his socks, eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open.

“Where is she?” he breathed, like he was waiting to see a mythical creature.

Jake gently nudged the car seat toward him. “She’s sleeping. Be soft, okay?”

James crouched like it was some sacred ritual, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the blanket.

He peeked in with a squint, nose wrinkling, face twisted in deep thought.

He blinked.

Then frowned.

“…She’s kind of ugly,” he declared.

Jake choked on a laugh, reaching to ruffle his hair. “Hey.”

“But it’s okay,” James continued with a shrug. “She’s a baby. I heard some people get plastic surgery when they grow up. She can do that if she wants.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling a snort. “She’s not ugly.”

“She looks like a wrinkly potato.”

“That’s cause she just came out,,” Jake said solemnly, kneeling beside him. “She’ll look better after some milk and sleep.”

James tilted his head, clearly unsure how to feel. “She smells like butt.”

You bent down beside them both, the ache in your legs sharp but ignorable.

Jane stirred a little, her mouth making a soft sucking noise, her hands twitching. “You smelled worse when you were born.”

James’s eyes widened like you’d just told him he was adopted. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Jake chimed in. “You pooped on me twice in the first week.”

James’ face lit up. “Can I hold her?”

“In a bit,” you said, brushing your fingers along his hair. “After she’s fed. And once we’re on the couch.”

He nodded, serious. “I’ll wait.”

☆.

The days passed like smoke curling around your head—soft and slow and smothering all at once.

Jane didn’t sleep unless she was on someone’s chest.

Your chest. Jake’s chest. Occasionally James’s, when he insisted on sitting perfectly still on the couch, puffed up with responsibility.

Your nights bled into mornings, your mornings into afternoons.

You could barely tell what day it was anymore. You were always either nursing, changing, soothing, or trying to catch a moment of quiet to breathe.

But even in the chaos, there were moments that glowed— small, quiet glimmers of peace.

James tiptoed more than he used to. He would pad into your bedroom at two a.m., rubbing his eyes, clutching his dinosaur plushie under one arm.

“Is she okay?” he’d whisper.

“She’s just hungry,” you’d whisper back.

Sometimes he’d crawl into the bed next to you and lie on Jake’s other side, close enough to reach for your elbow. He didn’t ask for lullabies anymore. Just your presence, closeness.

Sometimes he’d doze off again before Jane had even finished nursing.

Other times, he’d stay awake. Just watching.

“I think she likes when you sing,” he murmured one night.

You paused, fingers stroking Jane’s back. “You think?”

He nodded seriously. “Even if you’re a little out of tune.”

And Jake— Jake was different, this time.

The first time around, he’d tried. He really had.

But he was younger, more nervous, too rough around the edges, and there were nights when you’d cried in the shower because you were the one holding everything together.

But not now.

Now he was soft in the ways that mattered.

He remembered the towel you liked best and warmed it in the dryer before you bathed.

He memorized your medications, prepped your bottle without you asking.

He rubbed your feet while Jane fed, whispered affirmations when you broke into tears at 3 a.m. for no reason except that your body wasn’t yours and your brain was drowning and you missed sleeping for more than two hours at a time.

He wasn’t perfect.

He still forgot to put lids back on properly and he still knocked over the baby lotion bottle three times in the same week.

But he had learned you. Learned your limits. Your moods.

What words would help and which wouldn’t. He never made you feel like a burden. Not once.

And when you had nothing left to give— he gave you back to yourself.

You came down one night after a long nap you hadn’t even realized you’d taken, hair sticking to your forehead, your robe askew.

You expected disaster. Bottles unwashed, a screaming baby, maybe Jake asleep on the couch with James up way too late playing video games.

Instead, you found the living room lit in warm lamplight, quiet.

Jake was shirtless, Jane pressed to his chest in the baby wrap, bouncing slightly on his feet as he whispered a lullaby in half-Korean, half-english.

James was curled on the rug with dinosaurs his book, whispering the words to himself, a blanket pulled over his lap.

Your heart cracked open.

Jake looked up and smiled. “She just finished feeding. I pumped from the stash in the fridge, you looked like you needed rest.”

“I did,” you whispered.

“Go back up,” he said. “I’ll bring you tea.”

You hesitated. “I feel guilty.”

“Don’t. You gave her a whole body, we’ll take care of you now.”

You did cry then.

And when Jake wrapped you in his arms that night, you believed him.

You believed that this family, this messy, tired, beautiful family, was being held together not just by your hands, but by all three of theirs.

And that was everything.

☆.

Two years later, the kitchen smelled like strawberries and sunscreen.

It was a Sunday afternoon in early June, sun slanting through the window blinds and painting long, golden stripes across the tiled floor.

The fan hummed softly in the corner, spinning slow circles that barely stirred the air, and Jan e your little girl with her chubby hands and mismatched socks was sitting in her high chair, smearing strawberry juice across her cheeks like war paint.

Jake was crouched beside her, wiping her chin with one of the soft, floral-patterned cloths you insisted on keeping in the drawer.

His hair was still damp from the hose-outside chaos that had been an hour ago— James, laughing as Jake sprayed him down while Jane screamed and clapped from the porch.

Now everything smelled of damp grass and sweetness.

You were at the sink, rinsing a bowl, humming under your breath, tired but soft around the edges with that summer kind of fatigue that didn’t bite.

James sat at the kitchen table, arms folded, face twisted in a look of intense concentration, like he was on the verge of solving the meaning of life.

“Dad?” he said suddenly, sharp like a question he’d been chewing on all morning.

Jake looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, bud?”

James tapped a finger against the table. “How did you and Mom meet?”

You froze mid-rinse, hand still under the stream of water.

Jake blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Why do you wanna know?”

James shrugged, suddenly bashful, eyes darting to the side. “Just curious.”

But you saw the pink flush in his cheeks.

The way he pressed his lips together.

You turned the water off, grabbing a towel, and leaned against the counter just to watch it unfold.

“Wait.” Jake narrowed his eyes playfully. “Did something happen at school?”

James groaned. “Noooo.”

Jake smirked. “Oh my god, it did. Who is she?”

James covered his face with both hands. “Dad, no.”

“She sits next to him,” you supplied, grinning into your towel. “Pretty little thing with the pigtails and glittery pencil case, right?”

James dropped his head to the table with a muffled moan. “You guys are the worst.”

Jake cackled, reaching out to flick his son’s ear. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you how we met, but only if you promise not to laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

James lifted his head, expectant. “Tell me anyway.”

Jake stood, walking toward the fridge to grab a handful more strawberries, before leaning his hip against the counter and settling into storyteller mode.

Jane babbled, still chewing her fruit with delight.

“Well,” Jake began, “your mom hated me.”

“What?” James blinked. “Why?”

You crossed your arms. “Because he was cocky. And late. Constantly.”

“I wasn’t that late.”

“You were twenty-two minutes late to our first study session.”

“Okay, one time—”

“Every time.”

Jake huffed dramatically. “Anyway, we were in college. Same class, I noticed her first. She had this oversized hoodie and earbuds in every time she walked into the lecture hall, and she never talked to anyone.”

“I was tired.”

“Exactly. So mysterious.”

James giggled.

“I tried to sit near her a few times,” Jake continued. “You know, see if I could catch her attention, but she never looked up. So I asked to borrow her notes.”

You raised a brow. “You mean you spilled coffee on your own notes and then cornered me after class.”

Jake grinned at James like it was a badge of honor. “It worked.”

James’ eyes were wide now, totally absorbed. “Then what?”

“She agreed to help me study,” Jake said, placing a hand to his heart like he was reciting poetry. “And the rest… is history.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, it took a while,” Jake added. “Your mom wasn’t easy, she made me work for it.”

“Darn right I did.”

“But then we started spending more time together,” he said. “And she started smiling more. Laughing, she used to pretend she didn’t like me, but I could tell.”

“I didn’t like you.”

Jake shot you a look, grinning. “Tell that to the time you skipped your morning class just to meet me for coffee.”

You scowled playfully. “That was one time. And you had a cold.”

“You brought me soup.”

“Because I’m not a monster.”

James cut in. “Did you kiss?”

Jake opened his mouth, smirking, his eyes shining as if to say and not just that.

You threw a towel at him. “Don’t you dare.”

Jake caught it, snorting. “Yes, we kissed. A lot.”

James made a face. “Ew.”

“And we fell in love,” Jake added, softer now, his smile turning real, almost quiet. “Like, the kind of love where you still want to see their face even when they’re mad at you. The kind where everything feels like home when they walk into the room.”

Your chest squeezed a little.

“She’s still my best friend,” he added. “Even when she makes fun of me for how many times I lose my keys.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s gotten better.”

“Only because you put a tracker on my keychain.”

James giggled again.

“And then,” Jake said, grinning now, “we had you.”

“Wait— how did that happen?” James asked innocently.

Jake froze. You shot him a warning glance. He paled.

“Uh—well, that’s a whole other story.”

James squinted. “Why?”

“Because it’s for grown-ups.”

“But—”

“Nope,” you said firmly, swooping in to pick Jane up from the high chair as she started getting fussy. “You’ll learn in science class.”

James groaned. “Ugh. But science is so boring.”

“Not always,” Jake said under his breath.

“Jaeyun.”

Jake raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!”

Jane curled against your chest, sticky hands tugging at your shirt, and you kissed her forehead before shifting her to your hip.

“Is that really how you fell in love?” James asked quietly, looking between you both.

Jake looked at you, and you looked at him— and your heart did that warm, foolish little flip it had been doing since the first time he held your hand, since he first made you laugh until you cried.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing your fingers through James’s hair as you passed. “It really is.”

Jake came up behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back. “Still in love, too.”

You looked up at him. “Even after I threatened to cut your head off if you gave me another baby?”

“Even then.”

James groaned. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

☆.

It was past midnight and the rain hadn’t stopped all day. It tapped gently against the window, like fingertips drumming over glass, soft enough now that it no longer sounded like thunder, but like a lullaby to the tired world.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight that spilled in from between the curtains.

The warmth of the bed wrapped around you both like a cocoon.

The scent of rain still clung faintly to your skin from earlier— just from standing by the door too long, shoes soaked, children loud and chaotic and cooped up.

You were fast asleep now, curled beside Jake under the heavy blankets, your body drawn instinctively to his.

Your hand had found its way to his chest, fingers splayed just over where his heart beat steady.

He could feel your breath on his collarbone, soft and rhythmic, your nose cold against his neck.

He didn’t move. He never did, not when you laid like this.

He only let his arm fold around you tighter, holding you like something sacred.

His eyes didn’t close.

It had been a long day, sure— Jane had tried to flush her brother’s dinosaur down the toilet, James had gotten stuck halfway under the couch trying to retrieve a Lego piece.

But that wasn’t what was keeping Jake awake.

It was your sigh. The small one you let out just minutes ago, right before curling closer to him in your sleep.

It had sounded like comfort. Like home.

And that’s what triggered it.

That memory.

The one he couldn’t forget, even if he tried.

The one from before the house, before the kids, before everything.

The night he almost lost you.

It had been raining then, too. Harder than this. Sharper.

You stood in the middle of a soaked parking lot, your hoodie clinging to your skin like paper, hair plastered to your face, eyes wet with more than just the downpour.

You had just stormed off, away from him.

Jake had followed you out of the gym, his steps echoing behind yours, water sloshing in his shoes, fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re not listening to me!” you shouted, spinning around to face him, voice breaking over the sound of the storm. “You never listen to me!”

“I do!” Jake yelled back, stepping closer, teeth clenched. “I always do! But you’re asking me to be someone I’m not!”

“I’m asking you to stop killing yourself in the ring every weekend!” you cried, your voice raw. “I’m asking you to choose something, anything, that doesn’t make me wonder if I’ll get a call saying you won’t come home!”

Jake’s jaw tightened.

Water ran down his face, indistinguishable from the tears in your eyes.

His chest heaved, soaked through, breath misting in the cold air.

“This is all I know,” he said. “Boxing is all I have.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping toward him. “You have me. You have someone who stands outside every goddamn fight praying you don’t bleed out, you have someone who waits up, and worries, and loves you so much it hurts.”

Jake blinked at you, and for a second, he looked like he couldn’t breathe.

And you shook your head. “But maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I’m not enough. Maybe this… us, was a mistake.”

The silence that followed made the rain sound louder. It filled the space between you like a wall.

Jake stepped forward, one slow step at a time, until he was standing in front of you, his hands shaking.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered.

You stared at him, your face trembling, your eyes full of everything you couldn’t say. “Jake—”

“I know I’m reckless, I know I’m a mess, I know I don’t always think. But you…” His hand rose, not touching you yet, hovering like you were a flame he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch. “You’re the only thing that ever made me want to slow down.”

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

Jake’s hand finally reached you.

His fingers slid into your hair, soaked strands between his knuckles. He leaned in until your foreheads touched.

“I’m scared, too,” he said, eyes shut tight. “Of not being enough. Of being too broken to hold onto you.”

“You’re not,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not broken.”

“I am,” he said, voice cracking. “But I’m better with you.”

The rain came harder then, a sudden gust slamming sideways into your bodies, but neither of you moved.

You were shivering. He was freezing.

The whole world felt like it was falling apart, but Jake looked at you like he’d found the eye of the storm.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t clean.

It was desperate and messy and full of everything you’d both been trying to say. His mouth found yours like he’d been drowning and just found air.

Your hands clung to his soaked hoodie, your body pressed to his like you’d never let him go.

Jake remembered how your tears had mixed with the rain, how his fingers gripped your waist too tight, how you’d gasped his name between kisses like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you’d whispered into his mouth.

“You won’t,” he’d vowed, breathless. “Not ever.”

And even back then, before promises and rings and babies with strawberry-stained mouths, he had meant it.

Now, in the warmth of your shared bed, he felt you sigh again.

Just a soft one. Almost imperceptible.

Your leg slid against his beneath the blankets, your head nuzzling deeper into the space between his shoulder and neck. Your fingers curled softly against his chest.

Jake swallowed hard. His hand moved to your back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles, his lips brushing your hair.

He breathed you in.

You were here. You were warm and whole and safe.

And so was he.

☆.

The light was soft when you stirred awake.

You shifted, your body stretching slow beneath the blankets, the cotton sheets warm from shared heat. And then you felt him.

Jake.

Pressed against your back, his chest bare, skin hot and solid.

His arm was around your waist, the other resting on the pillow beside him.

Your hand reached down, brushing over the blanket until you found his fingers resting over your stomach.

You laced yours through them, holding him there. And then you turned, slow and gentle, so you wouldn’t wake him. But he was already awake.

His eyes were open, dark under the faint shadows of morning. He was lying on his side, hair mussed from the bed, jaw dotted with the faintest stubble.

His eyes met yours right away.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey.” His voice was husky, low from sleep… or maybe lack of it.

You frowned softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “You didn’t sleep.”

He didn’t answer. Just watched you. As if he was trying to memorize the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes cast shadows beneath your eyes.

You let your palm slide down to cup his cheek.

“What’s on your mind?” you murmured.

He hesitated.

Then, finally: “Nothing I can say without sounding selfish.”

Your brows drew together gently. “Try me.”

But instead of answering, Jake looked down. And you followed his gaze.

The scars. They were always there— some faint and faded, some newer. One near his ribs from that one brutal match three years ago.

Another near his shoulder, still pinkish, like a memory that hadn’t finished healing

You reached out slowly, letting your fingertips trail over the ridges of old pain, old bottles.

He didn’t flinch. He never did, not with you. But his breath did hitch slightly, the tension in his body curling tighter.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the one just below his collarbone. “I love these,” you whispered.

Jake’s throat bobbed with a swallow.

“They’re ugly,” he muttered, half-hearted, like he’d already lost the argument.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “They’re proof you survived. Every one of them means you came back to me.”

Something in him broke a little at that. His mouth opened, maybe to argue, maybe to say something tender, but the words didn’t come. His hand came up instead, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of it.

“I thought about you last night,” he said softly. “Back when you almost left. Out in the rain…. that fight.”

You nodded, heart aching at the memory. “It was a long time ago.”

His hand slid from your cheek to your neck, fingers splaying out along the curve of it, then down your spine, slow and reverent. “I didn’t sleep because I kept thinking what if you had left. What if I’d pushed it too far, if we never made it here.”

You shifted closer, pressing your body to his fully, your forehead resting against his. “But I didn’t. I stayed. You fought for me.”

His lips touched yours then— barely. A brush, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.

Even after all those years.

Your hand slid down between you, over the swell of his chest, your palm flat and warm against his heartbeat.

“Still fighting for you,” he whispered, eyes on yours.

And it was then, without another word, that you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft at first. Slow. Like a secret.

Your lips moved over his with a quiet kind of hunger, not the desperate kind from that night in the rain, but something deeper.

The kind that comes after years of waking up next to each other. After babies. After late nights and early mornings and scars.

Jake kissed you back like he needed you. Like you were the only thing keeping him grounded in that moment.

His hand slipped under the fabric of your shirt, finding the skin of your back, pulling you closer until not even air could live between your bodies.

You pressed yourself to him, your hand roaming his torso, fingers tracing over his skin like you were memorizing the feel of him.

He let out a shaky breath against your lips, his hips shifting forward just enough for you to feel the truth of his want, hard and insistent against your thigh.

“I missed you,” he murmured, kissing along your jaw. “Even with you right next to me.”

You shivered under his mouth, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to bring his face back to yours. “Then take it,” you breathed. “Take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Jake rolled you onto your back slowly, carefully, his body hovering over yours, warm and heavy and familiar. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and you let him, eyes fluttering shut, breath uneven.

His hands slipped under your shirt and you arched into his touch, letting him pull the fabric up and over your head. He looked down at you like you were art.

You tugged his mouth back to yours.

When he finally slid inside you, it was slow and careful. You both gasped— every time felt new, felt real, like the first and last and only time.

You clung to him, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs locked around his waist.

He rocked into you gently, his mouth finding every part of you he could reach: your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast.

“Still with me?” he asked, voice hoarse, forehead pressed to yours.

“Always,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth.

The rhythm between you built slowly, nothing rushed. You moved together in sync, bodies finding each other like they were made to.

You moaned softly into his ear, hands trailing down his back, nails digging in just enough to make him shiver.

“Lord, I love you,” Jake breathed, pressing his hips deeper. “I love you so much it scares me.”

“I know,” you whispered, blinking through the haze of your pleasure. “I know, baby.”

You held on to each other through it all, the high and the fall, the quiet panting breaths after, the way your hearts beat wildly in sync beneath the mess of limbs and blankets.

After, when your breathing slowed and he was still inside you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your neck, you stroked his back softly.

You didn’t say anything. Just kissed the top of his head.

And somewhere down the hall, a floor creaked.

You both froze.

Jake groaned into your shoulder. “Ten dollars that it’s Jane.”

You smiled, lips against his hair. “Or James looking for cereal.”

Jake sighed. “We need a lock on this door.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, pulling the blanket over both your heads as if it could delay reality for just a few more minutes. “Later.”

“Later,” he agreed, pressing one last kiss over your heart.

[flowermoonmay]

one of the most beautiful thing i’ve read 😭💕

this literally made my morning 😔🤍

“Nothing I can say without sounding selfish.” FUCK SO BEAUTIFUL AND ROMANTIC

as someone who’s afraid of being married, this worsens my expectations of marriage in a good way 🥲❣️

[sunghoon-my-dear]

Such a masterpiece