#cosyhomenet

[xomakara]

Oops!!! We Broke the Plot | KIM MINGYU

You and Mingyu are childhood friends and two self‑aware comic characters that are forced into clichéd romcom roles you both hate. On the page, he’s the perfect jock and you’re the villainess; off the page, you’re a nerd–queen duo secretly in love. Fed up with scripted drama and unwanted love triangles, you rebel, glitching the comic as the Writer fights to force you back into place. What follows isn’t a romcom but a battle for agency, freedom, and the right to choose each other.

PAIRINGS |  Kim Mingyu x F. Reader 

GENRE | romantic comedy, smut, angst, drama, childhood friends to lovers, meta, breaking the fourth wall(?)

CONTENT/WARNINGS |  non-idols au, swearing, comedy, self-aware characters, verbal jabs, reader is a bully but she can't help it because that's how her character is written, punching and grabbing narration boxes, forced scripted “scenes” (comic scenes), miscommunication, yearning, kissing, caressing, unprotective sex (wrap it up folks), shower sex, oral sex, hair grabbing

LENGTH |  22,169 words

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @cosyhomenet @hybehunters

TAGLIST |  @lovetaroandtaemin @theidontknowmehn @livelaughloveseventeen @liaaya-17 @codeinebelle @j3nnch3ls3a @choco_scoups @bearynicesworld @unholywriters @bebskyy @aethnie @seungminimpossible @frayaatiny @little-mix-fan-forever @parakissss @star-dust17 @cakebootyscaca @scoupsahoy @junniesoleilkth @datcrazyybratt @woo-wonwoo

AUTHOR’S NOTE | She's finally doneeeeee! This fic is for the SVTFLIX collab hosted by @100vern. It's loosely inspired by the k-drama Extra-Ordinary You and I had soooo much fun writing this 💚. Thank you @livmarauder for reading a portion of this and hyping me up as I write this and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for reading the whole thing when I thought I was going crazy that my ending was rushed. Maybe we'll have a part 2???

Seventeen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PANEL 1 — WIDE SHOT: CAMPUS QUAD, GOLDEN HOUR.

Students stroll across the lawn in perfect symmetry. Cherry blossoms drift in slow motion. A sparkly pink narration box hovers above the scene like a smug cloud.

NARRATION: Springtime at Carat University, where love blooms, hearts flutter, and destiny awaits...

PANEL 2 — CLOSE ON YOU

You’re standing dead center, holding a coffee. You stare directly at the narration box with the expression of someone who's been dealing with this for far too long.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn it.

The narration box flickers.

NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next—

“NOPE,” you snap, grabbing the box mid‑air like it’s a misbehaving balloon. “We talked about this. No villain monologues before 9 a.m.” You fold the narration box until it is the approximate dimensions of a post-it note and shove it into your pocket.

The rest of the campus, meanwhile, bustles around you like nothing happened. Like it never happens. Like there isn't a floating narration box following you from birth and plotting your eventual fall from grace. You really should start looking into those therapy services offered by the mental health office. You know they can't help you with "being narrated since birth," but it's probably the next best thing, right?

Anyway, it's spring and, frankly, you're very tired.

You, Y/N, are the notorious campus queen: the stunning daughter of an affluent political family and the presumed villainous antagonistic force in Kim Mingyu's, your childhood friend, star-crossed love story. For three volumes and counting, you, Mingyu and Lee Ara have fallen into a rhythmic dance of misunderstandings, relationship dramas, and flashy battles all leading to one, inevitable conclusion: Mingyu and Ara will fall in love and live happily ever after.

Or that's how it's supposed to work.

Except none of that happens in the shadows, the white spaces that the Writer's pen never quite fills in. Those are the places where characters come to life in ways even the omnipotent Writer can't see coming. Like when Mingyu saved you from a car last spring. Or that night you snuck into the school pool together and splashed around instead of studying. When it was just the two of you, when no one could see, no one was writing. When everything seemed perfectly scripted without a script.

In those moments, when the narration box couldn't reach you, nothing else seemed quite as important as his smile.

Until the next scene began, that was.

You don't remember when you and Mingyu became aware of the fact that none of this was real. You always thought that you were losing your memory, wondering how you ended up at home when you were just in class seconds ago, how so much time seemed to pass without your realizing it. It didn't click until you were aimlessly roaming the school halls one afternoon and noticed the air fluttering unnaturally around you, things moving floating out of place in the corner of your vision and an unsettling feeling of something. A presence? A monster? A force beyond your knowing and naming trying to reach out to you.

When you talked to people, they'd be confused or dismissive, thinking you're joking. And when you'd ask them again some time later, they wouldn't know what you meant and keep repeating the same responses over and over, no matter how many times you would try and ask, hoping it'd finally ilicit a different response.

Finally, you tried talking to Mingyu about what was happening to you, only to find Mingyu was feeling exactly the same way. That things were happening without his express conscious will, and he felt the presence of something vaguely sinister outside of his direct sphere.

That's when you both realized the absurd, nonsensical reality that you're living in a webtoon, in a narrative world crafted by someone who felt very little need or concern for either of your agency. That something, a presence beyond human knowledge and imagination, was dictating and guiding you along towards an end goal: an inevitable romance between Kim Mingyu, the male lead, and Lee Ara, the female lead, and you're left to be the evil side character who had to be defeated for Mingyu and Ara to obtain their Happy Ever After.

Which sucks ass because you really like Mingyu. Maybe even a little too much. And you know, deep down, that the feeling is mutual. The Writer might make you do whatever she wants to further the plot, like flirt with Mingyu against your will during scripted love tropes. But whenever the writer isn't actively intervening, you get to be just you and Mingyu, and not the fictional, plot-dictated versions of you two that are forced together by the writer. You wonder sometimes, if it wasn't for this damned world, if you'd be happily dating each other.

You feel the narration box wriggling in your pocket, desperate to escape and comment. To announce loudly, obviously that you'll do whatever you can to disrupt Kim Mingyu and Lee Ara from meeting, but ultimately end up helping the course of fate along because the Writer makes it so. Because the narrative demands a twist at the very last second, and Kim Mingyu can't end up with you.

With a sigh, you take the now much smaller narration box out and unfold it, letting its words be absorbed back into reality:

NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next loser plan to keep our golden boy and pure maiden away from each other.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter under your breath.

Just then, a slim figure rounds the corner: Lee Ara in all of her oblivious perfection, wearing a fluffy dress that no college student would survive in, looking very much like she is running towards you.

PANEL 3 — BUST SHOT: YOU, GLOWERING.

Your lips curl up into your default, scheming smile. You really wish it didn't feel so natural.

PANEL 4 — EXTREME CLOSE UP ON LEE ARA.

Her hair blows dramatically out of the way as she stares determinedly ahead like this isn't a typical, daily interaction for the two of you. You can't tell if it's supposed to look brave or goofy, but it sure isn't intimidating.

"Ara, you look absolutely stunning today," you feel your eye twitch as the words leave your mouth, words you didn't choose, didn't want to say, words that materialized on your tongue like someone else is operating your vocal cords.

Which, technically, someone was.

Ara blinks up at you with those impossibly wide doe eyes. "Oh! Um, thank you? That's... really nice of you to say."

No, it fucking isn't, you thought viciously, even as your face arranges itself into what you know is a calculated, mean-girl smirk.

"I just wanted to say," your mouth continues without your permission, and you feel the familiar horror of a scripted scene taking over, "that dress is so brave. Not everyone could pull off that... particular shade of yellow."

There it is. The backhanded compliment. Right on schedule.

Ara's face falls slightly, and you want to scream. You helped her pick out that dress last week during your actual, off-page friendship that the Writer conveniently ignores. You told her the sunshine yellow made her look like bottled happiness.

"Oh," Ara says softly. "I... thank you?"

"If you like looking like you're blocking traffic, then feel free to keep wearing it," you snort and then the scene releases you like a puppet with cut strings, and you immediately grab Ara's arm. "Wait, that came out wrong—"

PANEL 5 — ARA TURNS.

She's already walking away, and you know why. The Writer has got what they wanted: another moment of you being terrible to the heroine. Another panel of the villainess doing villainess things.

You stand there in the middle of the quad, students flowing around you like water around a stone, and contemplate the very real possibility of screaming until your throat bleeds.

"Rough scene?"

You don't have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize that voice anywhere. It's the voice that makes your stomach do complicated acrobatic routines, the one that belongs to your best friend since childhood, the one that's supposed to fall in love with Ara and definitely not with you.

"Mingyu," you say, turning to face him. "I just told Ara her dress makes her look like a jaundiced traffic cone. How do you think it went?"

Mingyu winces, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He's wearing his usual off-scene outfit: an oversized hoodie that's seen better days, glasses slightly askew, hair unstyled and falling into his eyes. He looks nothing like the chiseled, perfectly-coiffed golden boy who appeared in the actual comic panels.

"Ouch," he says. "Did you at least get to apologize before the scene ended?"

"Tried. She walked away. The Writer probably needed her to be sad for the next panel where you comfort her and she realizes she has feelings for you for the millionth time," you make a gagging noise. "I hate this. I hate all of this."

"I know," Mingyu falls into step beside you as you start walking toward your next class. "I had a scene this morning where I had to flex at the gym for fifteen minutes while Ara watched from the doorway. Fifteen minutes, Y/N. Do you know how long fifteen minutes of flexing is?"

Despite everything, you snort. "Did you at least get a good pump?"

"I got a cramp in my left bicep and the overwhelming desire to go home and read my economics textbook," he pauses. "Which I did, by the way. Chapter twelve is fascinating. Did you know that—"

"Mingyu, I love you, but if you start explaining supply and demand curves right now, I will push you into that trash can."

The words hung in the air for a moment. I love you. You said it all the time, had said it for years, best friends who'd grown up together and know each other's every secret.

But lately, the words felt heavier.

Mingyu's ears turned red, they always did when you said it, even casually, and he clears his throat. "Right. No economics. Got it."

You reach your classroom and stop, turning to face him fully. He's tall, he'd always been tall, but he hunches slightly, like he's trying to take up less space. It's such a contrast to his on-page persona, where he stands with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted himself a day in his life.

"Same time tonight?" you ask. "My place? We can finish studying for that chem mid."

His face splits into a grin, a wide, boyish one that makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. "Definitely," he agrees. "Maybe without the interruption this time."

PANEL 6 — ARA WALKING TOWARDS MINGYU

"And here I go," you mutter, "back to fading into the background so these two can have their meet-cute."

"I'm really sorry," Mingyu says again, "and I know that doesn't mean anything. I hope I can—"

NARRATION: ...Kim Mingyu notices his true love standing alone in the corner, a beautiful flower ready to bloom into...

"You changed into your jock gear," you note, sounding unimpressed, as Mingyu looks down and realizes that yes, he's wearing the clothes his character usually wears to work out instead of the sweater he wore before.

"Fuck," he sighs, "Here I go, I guess."

"You want me to text you after?" you ask him.

He nods, giving you a strained smile, and says, "Please."

PANEL 7 — SLOW ZOOM-IN ON ARA'S FLAWLESS SKIN AS SHE LOOKS UP AND ATTENDS MINGYU'S DAZZLING SMILE, HEARTS POPPING AROUND HER AS WE DRAMATICALLY FOCUS IN ON MINGYU.

"Ara! Just the girl I wanted to see."

You let out a long sigh, before turning away from the pair. Your story might be stuck in this linear route, but you really don't have to stick around and watch the love of your life play his part in this tale.

PANEL 8 — Y/N WALKS AWAY, SHOULDERS HUNCHED, BACKGROUND BLURRING INTO SOFT PASTELS AS THE ROMANTIC SCENE CONTINUES BEHIND HER

Each step away feels like wading through honey. You can hear Ara's delighted laugh behind you, that genuine, sweet sound that makes you hate yourself for being scripted to hurt her. You can hear Mingyu's voice doing that thing: that confident, flirty thing that isn't him at all.

The real Mingyu stutters when he's nervous. The real Mingyu talks about economic theory at 2AM and falls asleep with his glasses on.

But the Writer doesn't care about the real Mingyu.

PANEL 9 — CLOSE-UP ON Y/N'S FACE, EXPRESSION CAREFULLY NEUTRAL, BUT EYES BETRAYING PAIN

NARRATION: Meanwhile, the villainess retreats to lick her wounds, knowing she can never compete with—

"Oh, fuck off," you snap, reaching up to grab the narration box again. It's vibrating indignantly, trying to narrate your heartbreak into something convenient for the plot.

You squeeze it harder.

"You don't get to narrate this. This part is mine."

You track down Jeon Wonwoo, the webtoon's dark, brooding second male lead, in the library—specifically, on one of the beanbag chairs near the back. Wonwoo's sprawled out like an overly pretentious Renaissance statue, head titled to the sky, eyes closed, reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, a heavy, glossy book perched precariously on his chest.

"What happened this time?" He mumbles. "Faded into the back like usual before the scene started?"

Wonwoo became self-aware just like you and Mingyu; about five episodes ago. And also like you and Mingyu, he didn't come into his new reality prepared. He hadn't realized it at first. He was too busy brooding and contemplating life's meaning, so it wasn't until he was speaking to Mingyu about his memory blackouts. That was when Mingyu called you over, and the three of you had had the worst meeting you could've imagined.

Wonwoo wasn't particularly enthused to find out he was a love interest. He wasn't really interested in the romantic side of things in general. Not when he was made out to be the mysterious, dark bad boy who sulks in corners, glares at people, and spends too much money on poetry books that aren't actually worth their cost.

"Fuck me," you drop yourself into the bean bag beside him, throwing your backpack across the table and letting out the loudest, most exasperated sigh of frustration known to mankind.

"You can let Mingyu do that once he's back in the shadows," Wonwoo chuckles softly as he flips a page of the book.

"And then what will happen when we have sex and a scene between him and Ara happens?" You glare at him. "He vanishes from my bed, to confess to a woman he doesn't even like? You want that to happen? I sure as hell don't."

"Then don't have sex." Wonwoo doesn't look up from his book.

"...That's your answer?"

"Don't have sex and become canon."

"I..." you let out an incredulous laugh, reaching for the nearest object near you to throw. You grab a discarded highlighter and throw it at his forehead, causing him to shut his book and finally glance over at you. "If only it were that easy, asshole."

"Can I go back to my book, or have you finally broken?" Wonwoo looks bored out of his mind as he speaks.

"We're talking about my and Mingyu's relationship. Mingyu and mine's. I hate being the villain. I'm the most popular fucking girl on campus. I'm nice to everyone, and I somehow still get treated like an evil piece of shit when a scene starts." You kick your leg up for dramatic effect, which causes a few students around you to shift uncomfortably. "This is bullshit!"

Wonwoo picks up the highlighter you threw at him and examines it like it's a particularly uninteresting specimen. "You done?"

"No, I'm not—"

"Good. Because you're making a scene, and the last thing either of us needs is to trigger another scripted moment." He tosses the highlighter back to you. "Go study with your boyfriend. At least off-page you can pretend you have free will."

You catch the highlighter reflexively, your anger deflating into something closer to exhaustion. He's right, of course. He's always right in the most infuriating way possible.

"He's not my boyfriend," you mutter, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears.

"Semantics." Wonwoo reopens his book. "Now get out of here before the Writer decides we're having a moment and I have to brood attractively at you."

Your apartment is blessedly, perfectly normal.

No cherry blossoms. No golden hour lighting. No background music swelling as you open the door. Just your slightly messy living room with Mingyu already sprawled on your couch, his laptop open, surrounded by a frankly alarming number of economics textbooks.

He's wearing his glasses, the ones that never appear on-page because apparently the Writer thinks they make him look "too nerdy" for a male lead. His hair is unstyled, falling into his eyes. He's wearing a hoodie that's two sizes too big and sweatpants with a hole in the knee.

This is the real Kim Mingyu.

"You're late," he says without looking up from his screen, but there's no accusation in his voice. Just familiarity.

"Wonwoo was being useless." You drop your bag by the door and collapse onto the couch next to him, close enough that your thigh presses against his. "How was the rest of your day? Did the Writer make you do anything else humiliating?"

"Define humiliating." Mingyu finally glances at you, and his expression softens. "I had to carry Ara's books to her next class. My hands were full, so I couldn't even text you to complain about it in real-time."

"Tragic."

"It really was." He shifts his laptop to the coffee table and turns to face you properly. "She kept talking about how strong I must be. I'm not even that strong. I'm just tall. There's a difference."

You can't help but smile. "You're a little strong."

"I have the upper body strength of a particularly determined pool noodle." He pushes his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he's had since you were kids. "How was your scene with her? The dress thing?"

Your smile fades. "I told her she looked like a sad banana."

"You didn't—"

"I did. Well, the Writer did. Through my mouth." You lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "We picked out that dress together last weekend. She was so excited about it. And then I had to stand there and watch my own mouth form words about how it washed her out."

Mingyu is quiet for a moment. Then his hand finds yours, fingers interlacing with a practiced ease that comes from years of this, this thing between you that has no name because the Writer won't allow it one.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"Not your fault."

"Still sorry."

This is what you love about him. Not the on-page version with the perfect smile and the athletic build and the confident swagger. This Mingyu, who apologizes for things he can't control and stutters when he's nervous and gets genuinely excited about fiscal policy.

This Mingyu, who has held your hand through every forced scene and every narrative violation and every moment where you've both felt like puppets with cut strings.

"Did you finish the problem sets?" you ask, because if you keep thinking about how much you love him, you might do something stupid. Like kiss him. And if you kiss him off-page, there's no telling what the Writer might do to punish you for it.

"Most of them." He reaches for his laptop again, but doesn't let go of your hand. "I got stuck on number seven. The one about market equilibrium."

"Let me see."

You spend the next two hours like this, working through economics problems, your head eventually finding its way to his shoulder, his thumb tracing absent patterns on your knuckles. He explains supply curves with the kind of enthusiasm most people reserve for their favorite movies. You argue about elasticity and make him laugh so hard he snorts.

No narration box appears to comment on the "comfortable silence" or the "unspoken tension." No background music swells. No cherry blossoms drift past your window.

It's just you and Mingyu, existing in the spaces between the story.

"I wish it could always be like this," you murmur at some point, when the sky outside has gone dark and you've both abandoned any pretense of studying.

Mingyu's arm is around your shoulders now. You're not sure when that happened, but it feels right. Natural. Like this is how you're supposed to fit together.

"Me too," he says, pressing a light, half-awake kiss against the crown of your head. "Just like this."

You lean into his warmth, your eyelids fluttering closed as you memorize the weight and shape of his arm against you, his head resting against yours, the steadiness of his breathing as he begins to drift off. You memorize it all.

You memorize every last detail.

Because when you open your eyes, you're alone again.

PANEL 1 — MEDIUM CLOSE-UP ON KIM MINGYU, RUNNING ON A TREADMILL AND CONSIDERING THE THOUGHTS IN HIS GORGEOUS HANDSOME BRAIN

"Damn," Mingyu mutters as he treads, "I can't even sleep peacefully on the couch with the woman I'm hopelessly in love with."

PANEL 2 — WONWOO, EXHAUSTED AND DEBATING LEAVING MINGYU TRAINING TO WALLOW IN HIS MELANCHOLY MUSINGS BY HIMSELF

"I fucking hate my life." Wonwoo groans out his displeasure. He wonders how much trouble he'd get in if he "accidentally" hit the speed button and watches Mingyu flail off the treadmill.

NARRATION: Back on campus, the handsome male lead dwells on the true love he so sorely misses.

Mingyu grabs the narration box and flings it into the nearest corner of the gym, where it blinks weakly and powers itself off to spare itself any further humiliation.

"You done?" Wonwoo asks, the picture of composure and zen.

"No, I'm still fucking pissed off!" Mingyu hops off the treadmill and heads straight for the boxing station, grabbing some tape and bandages and wrapping up his fists in record time.

"Do you wanna tell me why you're pissed off this time, or are we just gonna keep going back and forth like this forever?"

"Y/N and I were just working on the homework, and it was... perfect. It felt perfect. Right. It was good—real good. But then, before I could realize what had happened, the Writer snatched me and now here we are."

Wonwoo nods along like the therapist that his character and personality have inexplicably deemed him, and sighs deeply.

"Happens to me all the time." Wonwoo goes about packing up his belongings for his trip back home. "One moment I'm helping one of the female side characters with a jammed door lock and the next moment I'm staring at Ara for four pages straight wondering if I want her to be my first or last kiss. Every. Damn. Time."

"You poor thing," Mingyu mumbles condescendingly as he furiously punches the boxing bag.

Wonwoo steps away as he watched the narration box slowly creep over to join the two men. "A scene is starting soon, just warning you now."

PANEL 3 — MINGYU CONTINUES TO HIT THE BOXING BAG, UNTIL HE HEARS A SUDDEN CRACK.

NARRATION: He swings and it hits. His fists continue, his speed increasing as he repeats a simple question in his head: why is Y/N messing with Ara?

PANEL 4 — MINGYU STILL BEATING THE HELL OUT OF THE BOXING BAG.

NARRATION: Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. His anger is spilling out like a broken kettle, and its burning, stinging him.

"STOP!" Mingyu shouts to no one in particular, punching the narration box instead of the bag.

"And this is why I wanted to stay home," Wonwoo murmurs out loud. "I hate these things."

"Why can't someone else be the main character?" Mingyu whines. "It doesn't have to be me."

"Because you're the one with huge muscles, you're tall, and you've got the best abs in the entire school?" Wonwoo offers bluntly.

Mingyu doesn't answer and turns his attention to the boxing bag again, throwing several more powerful punches until suddenly, the narration box begins to hover, drawing both men's attention as a new caption begins to write itself:

NARRATION: As his heart screams and his fists bleed, the only image that flashes through Mingyu's mind is Ara.

Mingyu screeches, throwing the gloves at the boxing bag this time. "LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU EVIL BOX. STOP SHOVING ME BACK INTO THE CAST OF THIS DUMBASS STORY."

PANEL 5 — KIM MINGYU IS PISSED

NARRATION: An irrational urge seeps into him. An urge to reach his hand into his own heart, find Ara, and...

Wonwoo narrows his eyes suspiciously at the box and waves a finger in Mingyu's direction, directing his attention. "Stop."

"It's not going to work!" He screams at the narration box. "LEAVE MY HEART ALONE YOU STUPID BOX!"

But the narration continues to hover, circling Mingyu like the ring leader of a very messed up circus. Mingyu swings for it with his bare hands, punching at the thin air before it moves out of the way, now standing closer to him than it was a moment ago, the writing appearing faster. The text is bold and demanding now.

NARRATION: The urge is too powerful. He sees Ara's face, and all he can think about is her.

"NO!" Mingyu screams, tears of pure, unfiltered rage welling in the corners of his eyes as he punches the wall beside him, putting a hole through it. "I DON'T LOVE ARA. I DON'T."

The wall patches itself instantly, the hole vanishing as if it were never there. But the crack in Mingyu's composure remains, spiderwebbing across the surface of the Writer's perfect narrative.

"It's trying to rewrite you," Wonwoo says, suddenly serious. "Pushing you into the corner where you have no choice but to think about her. It's rewriting your thoughts, Mingyu."

The narration box pulses with an almost smug satisfaction. The new words appear, glowing with an unsettling light.

NARRATION: His heart belongs to Ara. It has always been Ara. It will always be Ara.

"It's not true," Mingyu whispers, his anger deflating into a desperate plea. He's looking at Wonwoo now, really looking at him. His knuckles are bleeding from the punch. "It's not true, is it?"

Wonwoo sets down his bag and crosses the distance between them. For once, he doesn't look bored or annoyed. He looks like a soldier assessing battlefield damage.

"You know the answer to that," Wonwoo says quietly, so quietly that the narration box might not catch it. "The question is, how much of you is still left for you?" He glances at the hovering box. "The Writer is getting more aggressive. This is new. This is... invasive."

They've fought scenes before. They've tried to walk the other way, to mumble their lines until the scene reset, to trip over conveniently placed props. They've tried everything, but it's always been external. Pushing against the boundaries of their world, not the boundaries of their minds.

This feels different. This feels like a violation.

"I can't..." Mingyu staggers back, leaning against the now-perfect wall. "I feel it. Trying to get in. Like... like static in my head. A thought that's not my thought."

Wonwoo's face is grim. He's read every book in this godforsaken library, including the ones on psychology he never wanted to read. He knows what gaslighting looks like. He knows what brainwashing feels like. And this has all the hallmarks of both.

"It wants you to break," Wonwoo states, his voice flat. "It wants you to give in and accept the role. If it can't control your actions, it'll try to control your mind."

PANEL 6 — Y/N WALKING INTO THE GYM DRESSED IN TOO TIGHT WORKOUT CLOTHES TO TURN ANY MAN'S HEAD.

"What kind of scene is this?" You mutter to yourself as you pass the two men and head towards the cycling machine in the other room.

NARRATION: As Y/N crosses the room, a flash of anger illuminates the depths of Mingyu's soul.

"Huh?" You stop short, one leg forward as the narration begins to morph again.

NARRATION: As she crosses the room, Mingyu can't take it anymore. Just the sight of her makes Mingyu burn with hatred.

"Well, fuck you too, buddy," you murmur at the box now trying to smack you in the face. You don't even need to stick around to know where this scene is headed, and you aren't going to stick around when Ara bounces through the doors in her pink sports attire to try and talk Mingyu down from his fury.

"Ugh," you groan as you walk into the cycling room and find that this is already the set up for a scene. "Oh, this is just perfect."

"Y/N!" Someone calls you, and it's Seungcheol, a supporting character in this shitfest who's written to have a crush on you. His smile is easy, and so is he, because in this dumb universe, Seungcheol is so much less important than the main character and you're allowed to trample all over his heart, though he somehow continues to pine for you.

"Oh, hey there," you offer a grin and head over to the spin bike next to him, joining him and his row of friends from the track team. The nameless ones. All of them here to serve a single purpose—and yet none of them are aware enough to break out of it.

You know when a scene starts because suddenly, you're having a casual conversation. Everything about your posture is suddenly just slightly more interesting—your lips redder, your cheeks rounder, the cut of your collarbones subtly highlighted by the shine from the lights above you. Everything is suddenly for show, but this time, so are you. You're not speaking the lines you want.

PANEL 7 — YOU INSIDE THE CYCLE ROOM, ON YOUR BIKE AND TALKING TO SEUNGCHEOL.

NARRATION: Y/N tries desperately to seduce a certain boy. She teases him in her sickly sweet tone.

"Cheol!" You greet, laughing at one of his jokes. You know what's coming next, and you know that you aren't saying this and yet the words escape anyway, as if they belong to someone else. You hate it. You hate this.

NARRATION: Seungcheol teases her right back, not knowing that Mingyu is watching their every move.

"Maybe you could give me some more advanced lessons," you bat your eyelashes and flash Seungcheol that sweet smile. You hope you don't throw up.

NARRATION: So distracted, she didn't notice Ara right behind her.

You glance down as you begin to cycle, glancing behind you for a split second. There are too many characters in here, and there's no guarantee that the story won't make an extra scene out of your path crossing with any of them, and your luck really does run out, because right there, in pink workout gear to match Mingyu's blue, is Ara, pretending not to watch you and Seungcheol.

PANEL 8 — Y/N FINALLY NOTICING ARA.

"So much for privacy." You scowl, your voice pitched higher to catch the attention of the one-woman audience that's suddenly in this scene. You know it's just a scene, you don't mean what you're saying and you definitely did not mean to flirt with Seungcheol. You get angry thinking about how fake this entire world is. "What?" You turn to look at Ara, tilting your head and smirking. "You've never seen a man and a woman flirting before?"

"I-" Ara starts, but suddenly looks downright uncomfortable. "It's not like that, Y/N."

You sigh and turn forward, meeting the screen again and shaking your head at how utterly useless it is to try and even change things. No one's in this scene to notice what you say, so why does the story even care? The story is stupid, and pointless, and written entirely around Ara and you don't care who's on board. "Why should you care who I flirt with anyway? You got Mingyu wrapped around your pretty little fingers, don't you?"

"I would never," Ara tries again. "He's-"

"He's what? Something else I can never have?" You're a villain through and through, apparently, and the Writer wants this kind of drama. "It's cute how you think I'll stay away, just because of a little warning." You smirk and wait a beat, just to watch the discomfort bloom across Ara's face. "We both know you don't have the stomach to threaten me back."

PANEL 9 — MINGYU STEPS IN

You can see the look in Mingyu's eyes. He doesn't care about what the narration is doing, apparently, and in the midst of this disaster of a story, you suddenly realize it.

"Mingyu," Ara almost sighs. "I- please don't-"

"You." He points to you, and for a brief second, you can see how Mingyu clenches his fist, trying to fight against the word that's already forming on his lips. "Watch it."

"Mm, and if I don't?" You shrug, innocently pouting and getting off the bike. You ran your fingers down his chest, making sure to keep eye contact. "What are you going to do to me, Kim Mingyu?" You lick your lips and don't stop touching him, running your fingers down his torso and the planes of his muscles, one hand over his arm and the other curled up to grip at his chest. "Don't you think you and I have more fun ways to play, or have you forgotten about the night we-"

Mingyu holds on to your wrist tightly, holding your touch away from him. "Shut your mouth."

You look up at him and bite your lip, shrugging again. "Or what?"

"Please stop, Mingyu!" Ara tugs at the side of his t-shirt, begging Mingyu, who barely notices.

He was there, during that one weekend, when the story took a vacation and let your real selves drive. Neither of you were ready to stop. Neither of you were ready to be written and puppeteered as the main characters. There's so much Mingyu wants to say right now. Instead, the Writer uses his mouth to spit vitriol and spite.

"Stay the fuck out of my life, and off my girl," Mingyu hisses. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but stay the hell away from her."

"Oh wow." You roll your eyes and pull away from him, wiping his hand down your skirt. "Protective, aren't we?" You cross your arms and lean into his personal space. "Wouldn't want me to show her how much better I could fuck you, huh?"

Ara gasps, backing away and covering her mouth with her hands. "Why would you say such a thing!" She screeches at you, and you shrug it off.

"That's not happening." Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, fists curling into themselves.

PANEL 10 — INTENSION OF RAGE HANGING AROUND MINGYU.

"Now that just sounds like a challenge, handsome," you tap the tip of his nose and flash him that perfect smirk, the kind designed to bring even the biggest, baddest, male characters to their knees. You turn away, and head to leave the gym. "Your girlfriend can keep playing house, but you and me?" You blow him a kiss as you walk to the changing rooms. "I'm always down to play rough."

And as you walk away, you can hear the familiar sound of fists punching a bag, Mingyu screaming, and a heartbreaking "I hate her!" that makes the Writer grin in delight.

When the door to the changing rooms close, you sink to the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest and fighting back the tears in the corner of your eyes. You hate this. You don't want to be a villain. You just want to love him and be loved, and the Writer just refuses to let that happen.

For the next thirty minutes, the Writer leaves you alone, and you're curled up against the bench as you cry. The last thing you really needed was Mingyu to actually hate you.

And you hate the thought of being anyone's villain. Especially his.

Mingyu finds you curled up in your bed. Not just a lump under a mound of pillows. In your bed, buried underneath the blankets and nursing a tub of ice cream.

"You okay?" he asks gently.

"Not really," you mutter and take another spoonful of ice cream, avoiding eye contact. You're being grumpy and pathetic, but you don't really care.

Mingyu grabs the tub of ice cream and places it on your nightstand, not caring if it'll melt, as he gathers you into his arms, letting you wrap your own around his torso.

"I don't like doing it," Mingyu whispers. "It was-" He takes a deep breath and holds you a little tighter. "God, saying those things to you, I hate that the Writer made me do it. Even the visual of... of-" He doesn't need to finish his sentence.

"Me and Seungcheol," you mumble, and let him lift your chin.

Mingyu nods. "But Y/N-" He searches your face and taps your forehead. "I didn't mean a single bit of it. None of it. Never. Okay? I would never ever treat you like that, okay?"

Your eyes tear up, and you nod, biting your lip and trying to get rid of the sting of the Writer's manipulations.

"And I hate myself for hurting you like that," he admits softly. "Even if I didn't mean it, I still said it, and that hurts. But... but at least we're self-aware?" He gives you an awkward grin.

You manage a laugh through the tears. It was a crap day, and maybe Mingyu wasn't helping, but your favorite thing about your best friend has always been that you feel understood when you're with him.

"This is hard," Mingyu groans, flopping backward on your bed. He hugs you close to him, so you don't flail around. "Can't we just," he moves one hand, gesturing wildly "I dunno, rewrite this stupid thing so we're happy?"

"If only that was a possibility," you giggle.

"Wait," Mingyu props himself up on an elbow. His eyes sparkle. "Wait. Y/N, what if we do exactly that."

"What," you roll your eyes and give Mingyu a blank look, not trusting his tone.

"Seriously! Let's rewrite this ourselves," Mingyu exclaims. "You and I, Wonwoo too, are self-aware. Why don't we work together to change things? It could work, don't you think?"

"What would we change, Gyu?" You ask him, a tiny glint of hope lighting up behind your irises.

"Well, to start," Mingyu grimaces. "Maybe, uh, have the Writer stop trying to make you kiss the entire university population, yikes."

You grimace and lift your hands up to the sky as if you're going to fight the Writer's pen with your bare hands. "That's a damn start. My god, we need a human resources department for this shit."

"It's more like human rewrite department and I'll file a complaint," Mingyu deadpans and the two of you share a quick look before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, needing this moment of levity after the exhausting scenes you're usually roped into.

"Wait, wait," you can't believe how many brilliant ideas come to you once you give yourself an afternoon to wallow. "Wonwoo!" You glance around as you grab Mingyu's phone from the floor, quickly dialing Wonwoo's number and grinning mischievously when it picks up. "We're forming a union. Bring beer. See you later." And then you hang up.

Mingyu is beside himself in a fit of laughter. "Oh man, won't the writer be pissed when they find out three of their characters are rebelling against the plot line."

"I hate this stupid plotline," you groan. "I'm the most popular girl in school but what does the narrative care about?! Me kissing a different character every week. I swear, we're literally nothing more than tropes used just to create more drama for the narrative, and it's annoying and pointless and I've had enough!" You let out a long, loud sigh and Mingyu grins.

"Damn, you're hot when you're angry," Mingyu mutters and when you give him a look, he looks away with flushed cheeks.

"Gross." Wonwoo let's himself into your apartment and holds up the beers. "Union time, but please. Can you not flirt with each other. I've dealt with enough forced bullshit today."

"What happened?" You look over the couch and see a distressed looking Wonwoo, your confusion and Mingyu's morphing into that same glare the two of you shared mere hours ago. "Did you just get some scene thrown into your storyline as well?"

Wonwoo winces and rubs the back of his neck. "I was forced out of the comfort of my own apartment to walk around the campus with Ara, the words spewing from my own tongue saying how she's everything I want and more, and how her personality is so cute, I can't get her off my mind, bla bla bla..."

The two of you just sit there, horror written on your face as the thought of a love sick Wonwoo has your brain nearly short circuiting.

"Dude, what the hell," Mingyu gags and shudders. "Was this scene like-" he pauses, horrified with the thought that passes through his mind. "Don't tell me. I don't want to imagine it."

"Neither did I, believe me, Mingyu. Please don't say anything else. I had to go through five showers with nearly boiling hot water to rid the thoughts of even holding her hand." Wonwoo winces as the memory makes his skin crawl. "Okay. So." Wonwoo nods. "Union time!"

As the sun dips low beyond the horizon and night overtakes the room, the three of you drink and dream and plan for the world that's promised. It's been far too long, since you've allowed yourself to dream. But with Mingyu and Wonwoo? It might actually work.

"Holy shit, guys." You stare up at the building looming overhead and then at the sign next to the door, squinting and reading out loud. "'Humanity Rewrite Agency. The world's solution to author control.'"

"I was kidding about it," Mingyu starts as he looks between his co-conspirators. "But there's really a HR building in the shadows? Do you think the Writer knows about this place?"

"Dude, if it's in the shadows then they won't be able to see it," Wonwoo shakes his head, almost wanting to laugh at the three of you standing outside of the building. It was a spur of the moment decision to go into the HR building, and though the three of you were pretty serious about the whole union thing, it all seems a bit far-fetched.

"Alright, let's go," You shrug and make your way up to the sliding doors, pushing in and finding the empty reception desk. "Um. Excuse us?"

A person pops out from beneath the desk, glasses askew and jacket slightly messed up. "Y-yes, how can I help you today?"

"We're thinking about forming a union? And thought a place like this might help, given it's hidden in the shadows." Wonwoo comments casually, leaning on the counter.

The receptionist's mouth opens, surprised. "A union?" Their eyes drift from Mingyu, to Wonwoo, and settle on your gaze. Their eyes soften, lips parting a moment later as a few memories spark in their mind. "Oh. Oh, dear. You three really are self-aware, huh." The receptionist, who's name tag reads Joshua, snaps out of his thoughts and offers a kind smile. "You're not the only self-aware characters working through an issue. Follow me." Joshua spins around the desk, flicking off the switch to the light above and disappearing into the hallway behind him, beckoning the three of you to follow. "You must know about Danoh and Haru, right? What happens to them in Secrets? What happens after?"

"Secrets?" Your brow furrows as your try to connect the dots, knowing very little about the book in question.

"I see you three really haven't done your due diligence then." Joshua laughs a moment later, voice light and cheerful. "Secrets is a comic about the typical high school romance. But in their case, our spunky Danoh was a supporting extra with a heart disease and Haru was a faceless extra." Joshua stops at his office door and gestures to the chairs across from him.

"Is there a reason why they're important?" Mingyu asks, clearly perplexed with the idea of side characters rebelling in their own way.

"Oh yes. I'll let Seungkwan tell you. He's like your mediator or something, I dunno. But he can help you find some answers at the very least."

You trail behind, your mouth moving faster than your brain as you pepper Joshua with questions. Wonwoo and Mingyu shake their heads but listen just as intently to Joshua's ramblings. You know there's a whole world here, out there in the shadows, and now that you've tasted self-awareness you're hungry for every detail you can find.

"In here," Joshua calls over his shoulder. "Everyone. These are our newest clients."

"New clients?!" A male's voice practically squeals, followed by a swift punch to the arm.

"More self-aware folk who don't know enough?" A second male's voice pipes up, amusement glinting in his eyes as a slow smile pulls across his lips. "Well, we can fix that. Hi, everyone! Welcome to Human Rewrite Agency, located conveniently in the shadows, where we'll do anything within our power to help."

"It's great to be here," you nod, stepping forward. "I'm Y/N." You tilt your head to your two conspirators, a shy smile on Mingyu's lips. "This is my best friend, Mingyu. And that brooding, tired-looking beanpole, is Jeon Wonwoo."

"Flattering," Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

"I'm Boo Seungkwan," the bright male who's eyes sparkled from the moment you stepped through the doors bounces over and pulls you and Mingyu into a tight embrace before doing the same to Wonwoo. "This is Vernon. A few of the others are working with clients so you can't meet them right now, but it'll probably be a long time before anyone else does, especially if your situation is even half as strange as a love pentagram." Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

"Love pentagram?" Wonwoo murmurs.

"Another comic where the female lead falls for four men and she can't chooses between them," Vernon shakes his head. "All the four men ended up self-aware because her dilemma and they have yet to figure out how to resolve their issue."

"Wow," you shake your head. "Who has the time and energy to think of this mess of a love story."

"The Writer of that comic does, and they're enjoying the pain," Seungkwan chirps. "Our agency does what we can to resolve their issues without erasing their awareness, so they can live their lives as they truly want to."

"How do you guys fix the issue?" Mingyu wonders aloud.

"Depends," Seungkwan tilts his head in thought. "Sometimes their comic becomes too unstable and they have to go through a series of major rewrites for them to fall into the correct timelines or character placements, etc. I assume Joshua has mentioned Danoh and Haru?" He catches your nod. "There were lots of up and downs with those two and their comic. Secrets came to an end and even though Danoh and Haru weren't end-game there, they became extras in a new comic and have the agency to choose each other, finally."

"So you're saying..."Mingyu begins as his brow furrows in thought. "We're fucked no matter what we do? No matter how hard we try to change the narrative, the Writer can always rewrite whatever happens? If we create a glitch, the Writer will just delete it? There's no winning in that."

Seungkwan grins and nods at the question. "Correct, for the most part," He agrees, not willing to dismiss any fears the three of you are harboring. "Which is why, a lot of these couples learn to focus on their lives in the shadow while still fighting to get to a happy ending. Because happy endings are for every character, even a background one."

Mingyu reaches for your hand, squeezing it in his palm. "So what should we focus on?"

"Do your part. Flirt in scenes, take the kisses when scripted and try not to gag...too much." Seungkwan laughs brightly, noticing the distasteful expressions on the three's faces at the thought. "Just because it's written one way doesn't mean you're doomed. Hell, our main clients in the Love Pentagon have to act out this drama where they basically hate the shit out of each other but in the shadows, they're all friends and bond over their scenes at their local bar." He laughs, his face glowing at the fond memory. "All because they're learning to balance both. The shadow and the world beyond." Seungkwan comes forward and places a reassuring hand on both Mingyu's shoulder and your hand.

"Don't forget, you can always visit. We're open seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I encourage the glitching and breaking the fourth wall, but do keep in mind, a sudden plot twist will never sit well in the comic so sometimes the Writer's hand will get involved. But don't give up." He squeezes again, pulling his hand away. "At the end of the day, the three of you are still you. Self-aware doesn't change that and the Writer can't remove that fact either. They might be able to rip the self-awareness right from under your noses, but what they can't do is control the you you've created for yourself in the shadows."

Your entire being hums from his words, Seungkwan's melodic voice full of genuine kindness. You let Seungkwan's gentle reassurances sweep the worry from your brow, even as your mind continues to swirl. You've found an ally, one with endless optimism. You let out a sigh and your gaze settles on the grin dancing at the corners of Mingyu's mouth, the hope you always feel blooming whenever you're close, blossoming behind your ribs. "Shall we?"

Mingyu squeezes your hand once more. "You bet."

Another day, another scene. This time you're staring at an unrealistically happy Wonwoo as he looks down at Ara, his fingers brushing a lock of her hair from her eyes. Mingyu stands beside you, a look of disgust on his face as he tries not to vomit from Wonwoo's forced expressions.

"Is this how you feel when you look at me and Ara during our scenes together?" Mingyu asks out of the blue and you laugh.

"Now you know my pain," you pat his cheek with your palm. "Tough to watch?"

"Painful," he admits. "Happy Wonwoo is hard to watch. I'm so used to him being broody and aloof, it's just strange seeing him like this."

"And that's coming from a nerd who's forced to flex his muscles every day," you chuckle. "He's all brawn and brains and still scared of horror movies."

"To be fair," Mingyu pouts slightly. "Horror movies are terrifying."

"I love you Gyu, but you're just a big baby."

"Your big baby," he counters, pout growing. "Right?"

"C'mere, baby," you laugh, cupping his chin as you stand on the tips of your toes and plant a firm kiss on his cheek. Mingyu flushes a shade of pink that spreads up his neck and blooms across his ears as a stupid grin flashes across his face.

"Eww, gross." The sudden exclamation catches your attention, spinning you around. Wonwoo stands a few feet away, shaking his head in mild disgust and faked annoyance. "Ugh. Get a room."

"Done with your scene? Ready to go back and brood like your normal self?" You smirk.

Wonwoo glowers. "Shut up." He tucks his hands into his pockets as he falls into step beside the two of you. "I am the model of happiness."

"What a lie," you laugh. "Wonwoo, no. Your true self is brooding. Being happy is not your forte. But it's okay. We still like you."

"That's kind of cruel but not untrue," Mingyu adds. Wonwoo heaves an exasperated sigh but says nothing.

The three of you stroll off the campus grounds, heading downtown toward Mingyu's favorite bakery. When your thighs begin to ache, Mingyu gallantly offers you a piggyback ride. "Took you long enough," you mumble, but a grin breaks free the minute your arms are looped around Mingyu's neck and his arms are linked under your knees, his palms curled snugly around the curve of your thighs. You're cackling the entire way.

When you arrive at Mingyu's favorite bakery, Wonwoo slows to a stop. "Sorry to skip out," he sighs. "I'm tired and I need to wash whatever happened in my scene today off of me. But text me the plan, alright?" He leans in and steals a pastry from the box Mingyu just purchased, much to the latter's protest.

"Dude, that was my favorite," Mingyu frowns, watching him run off with the pastry clenched tightly in his fist, looking smug as he turns the corner.

"So dramatic," You shake your head and steal the next pastry from the box before darting away, laughter erupting from behind you.

"Why do I even bother?" Mingyu rolls his eyes in jest, racing after you, easily catching up. "You really gonna make me run when I'm holding a box of goodies?"

"You'd anything for me, dummy," you tease with an arched brow.

"Can't say no to that," Mingyu laughs brightly, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, a feeling that makes your entire body glow.

He'd walk through fire for you. And, you suppose, you'd walk through fire for him too. Even if it was scripted and the flame was all special effects. Still, you'd do it. The whole thing could crash and burn, literally, but it'd be worth it. He's always worth it.

You two collapse onto a picnic table, watching a gaggle of young children chase each other, swinging wildly at their pinwheels. Their joy echoes across the grass and you feel your body relax as you and Mingyu devour another pastry in seconds.

"These are the moments I really want," he finally admits after an extended moment of silence. "To sit with you, be in the moment and have the ability to laugh at stupid shit like those kids or something serious. It's just peaceful."

"Agreed," you tilt your head with a smile, content and free as a stray curl whips across your eye and Mingyu leans across the picnic table to brush it aside. "We deserve better than what the Writer has in store for us," you muse. "Not sure what that better is, but we deserve better."

"This," he breathes suddenly, looking nervous despite the calm, easy atmosphere of the park. "Us. Together." He gestures, an awkward fumbling of long arms and large hands that makes you want to cry-laugh, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betraying the shy tone his voice has.

"Mingyu." He smiles at you softly as you lean across the table and press a soft kiss to the very corner of his mouth. He sighs in content, pulling you against him so you were sprawled across his lap as he buries his nose into your hair. "I really do love you. You know that right? Nothing the Writer creates is going to stop me from loving you."

"Oh god," Mingyu pretends to gag playfully. "Such a fucking sap. I've rubbed off on you."

You reach up and pinch his jawline before swiping his nose with your palm. "Silly, dorky himbo of mine." He groans but doesn't deny the affection, a shy smile hiding behind his lashes.

"Can't deny the truth."

"Knew you loved it."

"Love you more." Mingyu bumps your noses together as he presses his lips to yours, sighing the minute your lips slot into his perfectly as he tightens his grip around you. The pair of you sigh blissfully into the kiss and you grin, unable to help yourself as you bring the back of your hand to your forehead.

"God," you say, rolling your eyes. "Could this sunset and the taste of the chocolate filling of Mingyu's favorite bread be any better?"

"Shhh," he chuckles softly against your lips. "Stop ruining the moment, Y/N."

"One, never. Two, never," you insist, smiling at the ridiculous look on his face as you press one final kiss to his pouting lips. "Y'know, I like that smile of yours best."

"The one I reserve for you alone," he whispers, eyes shut. You can feel the light breeze tossing Mingyu's hair about as you bask in the peace he brought you, the feel of his strong body pressing against yours, holding you impossibly closer, keeping the nightmares and chaos of the comics at bay. For now.

That night, you have a dream. A weird dream. In that dream, you’re with Mingyu. That part isn't unusual. But it feels different, familiar, somehow. Almost like a past life where you and Mingyu were free. Truly free. But when you wake up, your memory of the dream fades fast, the dream dissolving like a mirage in the desert. You fall back asleep, remembering only the comfort of your dreams, and Mingyu's strong arms.

The next morning, you make your way to HR, knocking before sliding your head in to find Seungkwan there, smiling up at you and gesturing for you to come inside and have a seat in his office.

"Hey Seungkwan. Good to see you again, thanks for giving me your time." You begin, having wanted to ask him a few questions. "I've been having some weird dreams recently, a past life it felt like. I couldn't really remember them all when I'd wake up but..." You trail, hoping you were making sense to Seungkwan.

"Glad you're here," He gestures to the empty seat directly across his desk, inviting you to make yourself comfortable while you have a little chat. Seungkwan slides a few files your way before folding his hands on his desk. "I actually managed to procure these after our last chat. it seems like you were the main character in the writer's last piece. If this helps jog your memories, that'd be a real win-win."

You let the pages slip beneath your fingertips, curiosity boiling behind your lashes as the scenes came back to you, the very dreams you were having all were on this very sheet of paper. It makes you want to laugh as you look at the very scene of Mingyu walking toward the girl who was the perfect mirror of you.

You flip through the pages and notice you were in a bookstore and had even dreamed a few nights prior about it. All of this is true, these aren't scripts...they’re the past. "You found all of this after my last visit?" You ask in awe.

"Yes!" he says proudly, unable to hide the glint in his eyes. "There were a few snags here and there. From what I researched, you and Mingyu's story wasn't supposed to end in such a tragic way."

Your smile falls from your face as you realize his words aren't ones of encouragement, but almost pity. "Tragic ending? What do you mean?"

"Well," Seungkwan sinks a little further into the leather of his chair and rubs the back of his neck, eyes focusing intently on his notes as if he wishes that he hadn't uttered the last few words. "It's sad. You were arranged to marry, he was drafted for the war. He never returned."

"Oh," you manage as the words hit you, and your head is screaming, begging for something. "So why was it put on hold?" You ask the only logical question left.

"The Writer abandoned it." He slides you a copy of the draft you were just looking at. "It wasn't getting the traction because of the heavy story, apparently," Seungkwan winces at the idea that he may have said too much, but you just nod at him. "The Writer decided that the current comic that you're in is getting more readership."

"Great, so glad to hear she gave up and moved to a new storyline instead." You seethe, not realizing how harsh the words were as you grit your teeth. "But why was Ara chosen as the main character instead of me?"

"She's naive, innocent," he offers, sliding a piece of gum into his mouth. "Pretty." Seungkwan wrinkles his nose as if it was unavoidable, a sad fact. "What?"

"And I'm not? That doesn't seem fair," you groan, arms crossing over your chest as a pout works it's way over your lip. "That is a real blow." You huff out a sarcastic laugh.

"You're the bombshell that's relagated to the background. Not that you're a background character by any means. You're the villainess."

"Don't say it," you roll your eyes. You know it. Everyone knows it. That you were the supposed villainess. But the fact that someone, especially Seungkwan, has admitted it out loud? Well, you don't want to admit the truth, but it stings like a motherfucker.

"You're self-aware," he states quietly. "Can we focus on that?"

"Fine," you grumble, before forcing yourself to calm down. It's not Seungkwan's fault. "But why Mingyu? The Writer could have written another male character that isn't Kim Mingyu."

"Maybe the Writer felt bad for him in the last draft, and thought she'd give him a chance as the main character of a new romance series."

"By turning him into the ultimate, white knuckled himbo who flexes his abs whenever?" You groan, "The poor boy."

"He may be the male lead of the comic and geared for Ara," He leans forward. "But he will always choose you and you him. It's fate, even for characters written into existence." Seungkwan chuckles before standing and dusting his suit pants off. "Alright, thank you again for chatting with me. That is all I wanted to talk about. Stay self-aware and keep your focus on the real goal, Y/N."

"And what's that?"

Seungkwan flashes you a bright smile as he ushers you from his office, "Getting out of this shit comic, duh!"

From your corner of the dancefloor, you watch Mingyu lean in closely to whisper something into Ara's ear. Whatever he is saying makes her erupt into giggles as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears. As the music plays and they spin together, your heart breaks into pieces.

You really want to smack the Writer for making you see this.

Wonwoo sidles up to you, shaking his head at the sight before him as the pair looks ridiculous as they stand on the dance floor and the scripted splash panel. "You can vomit in my shoes later if you need," Wonwoo offers, trying his best not to make this anymore miserable for you. "Want a drink?"

"Fuck yes," you snap, looking for a moment before shaking your head. "I've got this, stay. Enjoy the dance, look pretty for the crowd and try not to burst into flames from boredom."

"What am I, an ornament? Because I've gotta say, this bowtie is uncomfortable." Wonwoo wrinkles his nose at the feeling of the tie wrapped around his neck as you chuckle and take your leave, heading for the bar.

"A shot. Top shelf, please." You watch as the bartender grabs a bottle and lines the small glasses up in front of you, grabbing a pack of salt as he sets up. After the glasses were filled, you look up to find Mingyu looking directly at you as you lick a long strip across your wrist before downing the glass of tequila. The way he bites his lip is undeniably hot, and the slight daze in his eye is doing wonders.

Worth it.

"You're good," Seokmin, the bartender, comments as you blink your way back, slamming the tiny glass back on the bar counter. "Lookin' to impress anyone?"

"Someone, but he's too preoccupied at the moment," you sigh, gesturing to the man and woman currently on the dance floor as they sway back and forth.

"Ah," Seokmin purses his lips sympathetically. "Want another one?"

"Keep them coming." The next shot goes down easy, just like the other glasses you had poured down your throat in the hopes you could avoid Mingyu for the rest of the night.

Mingyu could've easily left her side and spent the remainder of the evening with you. You sigh wistfully, you had dreamed that this party would end differently. And not with him twirling another woman around the ballroom like this was some sort of poorly-written romance flick.

As the night drags on, the tequila keeps pouring down your throat until you can barely tell which Mingyu is the real Mingyu. Or is Ara real? You can't seem to care because when she disappears and the lights dim, he's suddenly right in front of you. "I think that's enough drinking for tonight, Y/N. Please?"

You look up at him drunkenly, anger brewing deep within you as you bite your lip, tears blurring your vision before you wipe angrily, angry, not that he would understand because, at the end of the day, it was Mingyu. Your Mingyu. "I hate this, Mingyu."

"Me, too."

"It feels like my insides have been crushed. It hurts to see you with her, and know that the entire evening the Writer kept pushing you two together, again, and again, and again." Your voice cracks and Mingyu reaches out to gently catch one of the tears that spilled down your cheek.

"C'mon." His hand is warm against yours. The two of you shuffle back to his apartment. "It's late," he mumbles as he shuts the door and throws his car keys into the tray on the counter, bending over to shrug his dress shoes off, and you stumble backwards until you feel your knees bump against the sofa and you let yourself fall against the soft cushions. "Are you just going to sleep with your dress on?" Mingyu asks, and you scoff.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh, right. Forgot who I'm talking to." He laughs and it sounds bitter and broken. He rubs a hand down the side of his face, shaking his head. "Anyway, you want to get out of those clothes? Here. Let me help you. Don't want you falling and hurting yourself."

"I'm not five, Mingyu."

"No," Mingyu pauses, gaze boring into yours, "But you sure can act like it."

"So, I can be a brat and you can treat me like you’re my Daddy, yeah?" You don't mean to laugh, but you are. You are fucking delirious, and so, so inebriated. But you're drunk and can't hold back the words tumbling out your mouth. "I'm such a fucking mess," you moan, hands flying to cover your face. "Just…just leave me here."

"Let's get you sober and then we can talk about that kinky side of yours." Mingyu holds out his hand, but the angle of the overhead light creates a glare. He's haloed in white light, like an angel or a figment of your imagination, you aren't quite sure. He taps your nose lightly, smile pulling at his lips, the slightest bit smug. "Take my hand and let's get you some fresh air. You smell like tequila."

"Mhm," You reach forward and slap your hand against his palm, sighing as Mingyu pulls you towards him and loops a supportive arm around your waist. "You like it, don't lie," you mumble. He rolls his eyes at that as your head dips back onto his shoulder and your feet stumble slightly before you are righted.

"Whatever you say, you drunk," he murmurs as he leads you to the balcony and dumps you on a lounge chair, reaching a hand out to press against your back. "Stay. I'll get you something to sober up before we get you showered and ready for bed. Okay?"

"Okay." Your voice comes out muffled since you bury your face in the pillow. "Mingyu?" you ask as a cool breeze chills your face.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for looking out for me."

"I'd do anything for you."

After a while of comfortable silence, and a cup of hot coffee in your hands, you both were looking out towards the street and were enjoying each others silent company. "You know we used to be in another series together?" you speak as you look over.

"Really?" he asks.

"Yea," you say wistfully.

"What was it about?" he inquires further.

"Not sure. But you and I were..." your lips pull up into a sad smile and your eyes slide back to the city street, "We were in love. Well, at least the Y/N and Mingyu from that series were." You smile sadly. "How we danced around each other in secret meetings during the war, and had to act like we were not madly in love once daylight hit. Even though I knew we'd always be safe no matter what because we loved each other."

"What happened, then? With us?" he asks.

"I was arranged to get married...to someone that's not you," you admit and it hurt like a stab to the gut. "And you were drafted, and I never saw you again." You turn back towards the view. "Can you imagine? How you loved someone with all your heart, but the narrative made sure you never had your happy ever after. No matter how badly you wanted it? The Writer just abandoned that series, never brought that story to an ending because it was so heavy and tragic. Wrote our lives off, just to throw us into something less heavy."

"Hey, come here." Mingyu sits up, pulling you into his arms. "We can't dwell on things in our past, even though the story may have hurt us, this time, things will be different."

"Will they, though?" you question with a sad shrug of the shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. Mingyu tilts your head towards his. "I'm not the main character this time. Just the villainess in this particular comic, forced to watch someone else get the happy ending. The happy ending the Writer robbed you and I out of."

"Shh," he hushes as he kisses your forehead.

"Promise you'll stay true and never abandon me? No matter what?" your voice wavers a bit as the threat of a sob remains close. Mingyu's big and warm hands gently tilt your head back to look up at him. He's got the most gorgeous face you've ever seen, with eyes so deep they put the night sky to shame and hair that gleams bronze in the sunlight.

"I'd do anything to keep you close," Mingyu says. "I promise."

"Pinky swear?" you sniff.

"Pinky swear." He links his pinky finger with yours. You breathe a small laugh. Mingyu had a smile to rival the sun, you always thought. All teeth, a bit lopsided and big and warm. Even in your current state of distress.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" your gaze darts down to where the two of you are connected by a finger.

"More often than necessary."

"I really, really love you, Kim Mingyu," you smile up at him.

"Love you, too." He presses his forehead against yours.

"Like, super duper, you don't even have a clue," you mumble into his chest. He only snorts.

"Sure I don't, dummy." He pats your head.

"Then maybe I should show you?" The words sound suggestive to Mingyu as you wrap your arms around his torso tightly, your hot breath tickling his ear.

"Y/N, come on," Mingyu says, wriggling away, cheeks going crimson.

You squint up at him, mischief in the creases in the corners of your eyes. "Why not?" you pout.

"Well, because," Mingyu ruffles the back of his hair. "You're drunk."

"I'm so damn sober right now that I could paint you a picture of the ocean."

"No, no, no." Mingyu pushes the hair out of his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Maybe I should prove to you I am a very willing participant?" you begin to say as he closes his eyes for a split second. Before he can do or say anything to prevent it, your hands have snaked themselves behind his neck. The scent of cologne and detergent fill your nose as he stiffens slightly and groans against your skin.

"You drive a hard bargain," Mingyu finally murmurs. "But first, you need a shower."

"Join me?" you suggest and you grin up at him with a mischievous waggle of the eyebrows. "There's plenty of room for two." You see the way Mingyu bites his lip, then sighs.

"Fine. Lead the way," he says, and when you squeak happily and pull him towards the bathroom.

Moments later, the bathroom is thick with steam, blurring the clean lines of the tiled walls until the world outside feels entirely locked away. The water drums a steady, heavy rhythm against the porcelain, a barrier of noise that no scripted dialogue or intrusive narration box could pierce.

"You're still clumsy," Mingyu murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rid of the booming, confident cadence the Writer always forced into his throat on-page. Here, he sounds rough around the edges, grounded, and entirely yours.

"I am perfectly balanced," you retorted, though your hands gripped his shoulders for support as you stepped under the spray. The heavy silk of your party dress clings to your skin, soaked through in an instant, but neither of you care about the clothes.

Mingyu reaches behind you, his large palms warm against the small of your back as his fingers find the zipper. With a slow, deliberate slide, the wet fabric parts. He peels the dress away, letting it pool heavily at your feet. When his gaze meets yours, there’s none of the scripted, aggressive arrogance he was forced to display at the gym. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with a fierce, protective reverence.

"You look beautiful, Y/N," he whispers, his thumbs tracing the line of your hip bones, wiping away the lingering traces of the comic’s forced aesthetic. "The real you. Not the villainess."

"Then stop looking and do something about it," you challenge, leaning up until your lips are inches from his.

Mingyu doesn't hesitate. He pulls you flush against his chest, the spray of the shower slicking his hair back, exposing the sharp, handsome angles of his face. His mouth comes down on yours with a desperate, hungry heat, a stark contrast to the polite, hesitant kisses the script dictated for him and Ara. This is raw, heavy with years of unspoken longing and the terrifying knowledge that your time in the dark is always limited.

His hands slide down to lift you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. You gasp into the kiss as he presses you back against the warm tiled wall, the friction of his skin against yours sending a sharp jolt through your chest.

"I'm not letting them take this," Mingyu groans against your neck, his lips tracing a burning path down to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin just hard enough to leave a mark, claiming every bit of you that he could.

You grab at the nape of his neck, fisting your fingers in his wet, raven black hair. "Shut up and fuck me, Mingyu."

The slick tile of the shower wall is hot against your back, but it’s nothing compared to the blistering heat of Mingyu's skin. He holds you pinned, one massive hand anchoring your hip while the other cups the back of your head, his fingers tangled deeply in your wet hair.

Every kiss is a bruising, desperate reclamation. On the page, the Writer made him tentative, full of scripted hesitations and soft, clean glances meant for Ara. But here, in the heavy steam of the shadows, Mingyu is ravenous. He drinks the small, broken sounds from your throat, his tongue tangling with yours in a rhythm that’s entirely unscripted, chaotic, and real.

"Y/N," he growls against your lips, his chest heaving against your breasts. The water cascades over his broad shoulders, slicking down the heavy planes of his muscles. "Tell me you're here. Tell me it's you."

"It's me," you gasp, arching into his touch as his hand slides down the curve of your thigh, lifting your leg to hook over his hip. "It's always been me, Gyu."

He groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates against your collarbone as he buries his face in your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin right above your shoulder blade, biting just hard enough to anchor you to the reality of the moment. You cry out, your fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back, your nails leaving pale tracks in their wake.

When he shifts, guiding your hips back against the wall, the friction is unbearable. He pauses for a single, agonizing heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes completely dark, pupils blown wide with a fierce, protective hunger.

"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough and laced with a desperate edge. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to see me when I..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. He drives into you in one smooth, heavy push.

A sharp, breathless sob escapes your lips, your hands flying to clutch at his wet shoulders as the sheer intensity of the fullness ripples through you. Mingyu lets out a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. He begins to move, slow and agonizingly deep at first, before the rhythm catches fire.

The sound of the rushing water drowns out the rest of the world, creating a sanctuary where no narration boxes could grow. Every thrust is a declaration of war against the script. You grip his shoulders, throwing your head back as he hits the exact spot that makes your mind fracture into pure, unadulterated sensation.

"Mingyu. Gyu—" you whimper, your internal walls tightening around him as the friction builds an unbearable, sweet agony behind your ribs.

"I've got you," he pants, his pace turning fast and punishing, his muscles bunching under your hands as he lifts you completely off the floor. Your other leg wraps around his waist, locking him close. "I'm right here."

"Mingyu," you begged against the corner of his jaw. "Gyu. Yes, yes, yes, please, don't stop."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He groans the words into the tender flesh below your ear as his lips and teeth trace a burning line from your jaw down the side of your throat. The water blurs between you, but he refuses to shut his eyes or drop his gaze. Every breath is shared, every inch of contact heated.

And every thrust is a silent cry. Fuck the script. Fuck Ara. Fuck everything but us.

The Writer's commands can't reach the shadows. Mingyu doesn't give her a chance to command him here, where the camera could only capture their silhouettes and the reader can't see beyond the steamy haze.

"Mingyu. Mingyu. Please, I need..." You shudder, a violent, blinding release cascading through your lower abdomen as you clamp down around him. The sight of your undone expression throws Mingyu over the precipice. With a low, ragged shout, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his body stiffening as he spends himself completely, his pulse throbbing forcefully against your own.

For a long time, the only sound is the heavy thrumming of the water and your synchronized, ragged breathing. Mingyu holds you tight, his arms wrapped around you like a vice, refusing to let your feet touch the cold ground just yet. He kisses you again—long, tender, slow—as he turns the knob of the shower off. With your legs still wrapped around his hips and his arms still supporting your full weight, he carries you both towards the bed.

"We're still wet," you murmur, lips moving against his collarbone.

"Does it matter?" he grunts. Mingyu settles atop of the pillows, the mattress squeaking beneath him as he pulls you to sit astride his lap. His damp hair falls over his forehead in wild, messy tendrils, but he doesn't seem to mind. "You're just gonna get wet again, anyways."

"Is that so?" You rest your forehead against his, brushing the fallen strands away. Mingyu nods, hands gripping your thighs tight as his thumbs brush in circles on the exposed flesh of your skin.

"Definitely."

The peace shatters at exactly 7:15 a.m.

One moment, you’re tangled in Mingyu's sheets, the faint scent of his laundry detergent and the lingering warmth of his body enveloping you in perfect, drowsy comfort. Your hand is resting flat against his bare, broad chest, feeling the steady, calming beat of his heart.

The next moment, a violent, neon-pink static snaps through your brain.

Your eyes fly open. The cozy, dimly lit bedroom is gone. The soft cotton sheets beneath you instantly morph into the stiff, scratchy fabric of a public bench. The smell of detergent is replaced by the overwhelming scent of chlorine and expensive perfume.

"No," you whisper, your throat tight. "No, please, not yet."

You look down. You’re no longer wearing Mingyu's oversized t-shirt. Instead, you’re clad in a stunning, albeit incredibly impractical, designer tweed skirt suit with pristine white heels.

Directly across from you stands Ara, holding a tray of iced coffees, looking utterly defenseless and doe-eyed. And standing right next to her, looking polished, perfectly coiffed, and completely devoid of his glasses, is Mingyu. He’s wearing his varsity jacket, his posture rigid and towering.

The transition is so violent it makes you nauseous. The physical memory of his touch is still burning on your skin, but your body is already moving against your will. Your spine straightens into a haughty, elegant posture. Your lips curl into a sharp, poisonous smirk.

Above your heads, a massive, glittery pink narration box materializes with a smug hum.

NARRATION: The next morning at the campus cafe, the villainess lays her trap, determined to humiliate Ara in front of the boy she desperately covets...

You try to swallow, but your vocal cords tighten as the Writer takes the reins, violently forcing the script into your mouth.

"Oh, Ara," your voice chimes out, dripping with sickly-sweet venom. "Did you personally brew those coffees, or did you just pick them up from the trash? Because honestly, the aroma matches your outfit today."

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, your mind screams at Ara, but your face remains a mask of flawless, cruel arrogance.

Ara flinches, her eyes immediately welling with tears as she looks up at Mingyu. "I... I just wanted to bring everyone drinks..."

Mingyu's jaw clenches. You see the brief, agonizing flicker of horror in his eyes, the real Mingyu trying to scream through the cracks of his character's programming. He knows exactly what you had just shared hours prior. He doesn't want to do this.

But the Writer's grip is ruthless.

Mingyu steps forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. He grabs the iced coffee from Ara's tray and, with a harsh, aggressive movement, slams it down on the table right in front of you, splashing a few drops onto your pristine tweed jacket.

"Keep your mouth shut, Y/N," Mingyu spits, his voice booming with a cold, scripted hatred that makes your stomach violently churn. "Ara has a heart of gold, which is something you wouldn't understand if it bought your family's entire political empire. Stay away from her. You disgust me."

The words feel like a physical blow to your chest. You disgust me. Even knowing it’s the script, the sheer force of his dictated anger cuts through you like a knife.

Your character merely laughs, a sharp, tinkling, villainous sound. "We'll see about that, Mingyu," your mouth drawls, tilting your head up to flash him a mocking wink.

PANEL 1 — CLOSE UP ON MINGYU'S FURIOUS EXPRESSION AS HE TURNS HIS BACK ON THE VILLAINESS, GUIDING A WEEPING ARA AWAY INTO THE SUNLIGHT.

The moment the imaginary camera shifts focus to follow them walking away, the invisible strings snap.

Your smirk collapses. You slump against the cafe bench, trembling violently as you clutch your stomach, dry-heaving from the sheer emotional whiplash. Across the courtyard, you can see Mingyu walking with Ara, his shoulders tightly hunched in that familiar, real-world telltale sign of pure, unadulterated distress.

He can’t look back at you. If he did, the Writer would freeze the panel.

You dig your nails into the wooden bench, staring at the pink narration box as it slowly dissolves into air. The battle for your freedom isn't just a union meeting anymore—it’s survival.

NARRATION: With the dramatic exit of the campus golden boy, the villainess is left alone to stew in her own bitter defeat, unaware that her cruel games are pushing her further into isolation...

"Oh, eat glass," you hiss under your breath, waiting exactly three seconds until the glowing text fully dissolves into the morning air.

The moment the script completely lets go of your muscles, you practically collapse onto the iron table. Your hands are shaking so hard, you almost knock over the remaining iced coffee. The emotional whiplash is a physical ache in your chest. Just hours ago, his hands were warm against your waist under the heavy steam of the shower, pulling you close, whispering that he would never let them take you away. Now, the phantom sting of his scripted words—You disgust me—echoes in your ears like a slap.

You need a drink, a sanctuary, or a very large blunt object to swing at the sky. Lacking all three, you grab your designer bag, haul your aching body out of the cafe courtyard, and head straight for the one place on campus where the shadows were thickest: the back rows of the university library.

"You look like shit." Wonwoo doesn't even look up from his massive, leather-bound textbook as you slide into the beanbag chair next to him, burying your face in your hands.

"Don't start, Wonwoo," you groan, your voice muffled. "I just got violently ripped out of Mingyu's bed at seven in the morning to be dropped into a 'cafeteria confrontation' scene. I told Ara her coffee smelled like garbage and Mingyu told me I was disgusting. My soul has officially left my body."

Wonwoo leans his cheek on his hand, flipping the page. "I know you have feelings for the musclehead, but can you get over yourself for three seconds?"

"Wow. Excuse me for having emotions," you grumble into your hands, flopping backwards into the plush beanbag chair with an undignified huff. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"

"My pretty face," Wonwoo recites by rote, the edges of his lips curling into a trademark smirk that made the characters around you swoon. "It's all the rage."

"Go back to brooding," you grumble, leaning forward again to scan the titles of his mountain of library books.

The library is an oasis of darkness: a cramped, shabby space nestled deep between the science shelves in the most remote corner of campus. Only a couple flickering lamps provide light, barely cutting through the densely packed bookshelves to reach the faded carpet. It’s impossible to spot the back rows from anywhere else in the library, which is exactly how you two like it. The deeper you sink into the stacks, the longer your ability to stay outside of the script lasts, giving you an easy break from being written into the same overused confrontations week after week.

This far from the spotlight of the heroine and the main characters, the university is nothing but a cheap backdrop and a cheap trope. No flashy love triangles or manufactured plot twists can find you here, no matter how brightly the script shines. Just stacks upon stacks of books, no endings necessary. It’s exactly what you need right now.

Wonwoo stares pointedly at your rumpled jacket and messy hair, his fingers absently playing with a ballpoint pen. "So are you going to sit there moping, or are you going to finally address the massive, tooth-rotting sexual tension hanging between us right now?"

You smack his arm hard. "Gross, dude. Not with Mingyu on the brain."

Wonwoo ignores the bruise already blooming on his bicep, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you done lamenting your tragic inability to seduce our token jock? You're crushing my study vibe with that kind of energy."

"Fu–"

"Don't curse in my sacred reading corner."

You close your mouth mid-curse, narrowing your eyes. "Fine, Shakespeare," you say, crossing your arms. "Remind me, why am I even talking to you about this?"

"Because you think I can actually fix it." His eyes flick up towards the dusty fluorescent lights, watching the grime-coated glass buzz with low electricity. After several seconds, his dark gaze shifts towards your face.

"Look," Wonwoo sighs, resting his elbows on top of his piles of reference books. "If there's anyone who understands this shitty situation, it's me. I know you two are dying to break free and bang each other against the nearest wall, but the Writer doesn't care. To her, our misery is hilarious, and she doesn't care what she has to tear apart or write-off to keep making us dance to her tune."

You stare at Wonwoo, his words cutting through the leftover haze of the morning's whiplash. The harsh reality of what Seungkwan had shown you at the Human Rewrite Agency flashes in your mind—the tragic, abandoned draft where you and Mingyu were torn apart by war. The Writer didn't care about your heartbreak then, and she certainly doesn't care now.

"She already tore us apart once," you whisper, the anger in your voice giving way to a hollow, echoing fear. "Seungkwan showed me an old draft. In another story, Mingyu and I were in love, and she just... left us to rot in a tragic ending because it wasn't pulling in enough views."

Wonwoo stops twirling his pen. His boredom completely evaporates, replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. "Wait, seriously?"

"I read all of it." You fidget with your pearl ring, "We never even got a happy ending. And now I'm watching him be the main character again with someone that's not me and get his happy ending. What about me? What about my happy ending?"

He reaches out and squeezes your arm gently. "You will," he promises, and there's something softer and kinder than the Writer's edge in his words.

"I'm not so sure," you whisper. You have to keep swallowing the bitter lump that seems to have taken residence in your throat.

The heavy scent of old paper and dust does little to soothe the burning in your throat. Wonwoo’s hand is still a reassuring weight on your forearm, his usually detached eyes sharp with a quiet, protective anger.

Before he can offer another word of cynical comfort, the heavy wooden doors of the library’s back wing creak open.

Footsteps shatter the silence, heavy, hurried, and completely lacking the synchronized, rhythmic grace the Writer usually forced onto the male lead. A tall figure rounds the corner of the chemistry stacks, nearly tripping over a low-profile stool.

It’s Mingyu.

He has frantically shoved his thick, black-rimmed reading glasses back onto his face, though he’s still wearing the stupidly pristine varsity jacket from the cafe scene. His hair is a wild, unstyled nest from where he had clearly been ripping his hands through it in frustration. The moment his eyes lock onto you huddled in the beanbag chair, the rigid, arrogant mask of his character crumbles entirely.

"Y/N," he pants, stumbling into the narrow aisle. He drops to his knees right in front of your beanbag, not caring about the dust coating his expensive scripted jeans. "Y/N, I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." His large hands fly to cup your face, his palms warm and trembling violently against your cheeks. "I didn't mean it," he rushes out, his voice cracking, entirely stripped of the booming, confident cadence from the cafe. "The words…the Writer just slammed them into my throat. I tried to swallow them down, I swear to God I tried to choke on them, but the static was too loud. When I said those things to you... when I looked at you like that..." Tears of genuine, unadulterated rage well in his eyes, threatening to spill over his lashes. "I wanted to tear my own tongue out."

Wonwoo slowly retracts his hand from your arm, leaning back into his own chair and crossing his arms. "Take a breath, muscle-head. You're going to trigger a 'jealous outburst' panel if you vibrate any harder."

Mingyu ignores him entirely, his thumbs gently wiping at the stray tear that has finally escaped your eye. "Please tell me you know it wasn't me, Y/N. After last night... after everything... I could never look at you and feel anything but..." He chokes on the word, his ears turning a bright, furious crimson, but he forces himself to look directly into your eyes. "I love you. The real you. I don't care what she writes on the page."

You look at his flushed face, the messy hair, the desperate, unscripted honesty bleeding through his every pore. The phantom sting of 'You disgust me' finally begins to dissolve, replaced by the grounding weight of the boy who belongs to you in the dark.

"I know, Gyu," you whisper, reaching up to wrap your smaller hands around his wrists. "I know it was the script. It just... it gets harder to separate the two when the Writer starts messing with our heads."

Mingyu leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a long, shuddering breath that fans across your lips. "We're going to break this comic," he swears fiercely against your skin. "I don't care if we have to glitch the entire university into a black screen. We are not letting her rewrite us."

Wonwoo lets out a sharp, rhythmic tapping sound as he collapses his heavy book shut. "If you two are done staging an unscripted melodrama in my designated hiding spot, we actually have a massive problem to deal with."

Mingyu doesn't pull away immediately, giving your hand one final, protective squeeze before shifting to sit cross-legged on the faded carpet. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his broad shoulders slouching into that familiar, un-jock-like posture that belonged strictly to the shadows. "What do you mean, Wonwoo? Besides the fact that the Writer almost turned my brain into mush this morning?"

"Think about it," Wonwoo says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "Y/N just found out from Seungkwan that the Writer has a history of abandoning entire universes when they don't get enough traction. She scraps characters. She leaves them to rot in tragic endings." His sharp eyes dart between the two of you. "Right now, the Writer is getting aggressive because we are making the plot unstable. If Mingyu keeps punching narration boxes and glitching out of scripted gym sessions, she’s not just going to keep pushing. She’s going to notice the narrative structure is broken. And what happens when a webtoon creator realizes their project is glitched beyond repair?"

The air in the narrow aisle suddenly feels incredibly cold.

"She deletes the file," you whisper, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your designer tweed skirt. "She scraps the comic and starts a new one."

"Exactly," Wonwoo points at you with his pen. "Except this time, we’re self-aware. If she hits delete, do we just wake up in a new story with our memories wiped, or do we fade into the white space permanently?"

Mingyu’s jaw sets, his gaze hardening as he looks up at the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. "So Seungkwan was right. We can't just blatantly refuse to play our roles. We have to walk the line. We act out the scenes, we take the stupid scripted dialogue, but we use the shadows to build something she can't touch." He reaches out, his massive palm covering yours entirely. "We play along just enough to keep the comic alive, while we figure out a way to break the fourth wall completely from the inside."

Before you can respond, a low, ominous vibration thrums through the soles of your feet. The library shelves seems to flicker, the titles on the spines blurring into illegible streaks of color for a fraction of a second.

A neon-pink glow begins to manifest near the ceiling of the aisle, pulsing like a dying star.

"Fuck," Wonwoo mutters, instantly scrambling to his feet and shoving his textbook into his bag. "Spoke too soon. Stage lights are coming up. Must be a heroine spotlight."

The pink glow intensifies, bathing the dusty library aisle in an artificial, sickly light that makes the air feel thick and pressurized. You, Mingyu, and Wonwoo scramble as the scene begins to materialize around you, the reality of the library walls warping like melting wax.

PANEL 1 — THE LIBRARY AISLE, SUDDENLY OVERFLOWING WITH SOFT, ROMANTIC FILTERING.

Lee Ara appears at the far end of the row, holding a stack of books and looking around with an expression of "lost and adorable" perfection. She catches sight of the three of you, her eyes widening in a scripted, dramatic reveal.

NARRATION: A quiet moment of study turns into a chance encounter, as Ara discovers the trio in their secret, brooding corner...

"Oh!" Ara exclaims, her voice unnaturally bright and rehearsed. "I didn't know you guys were all back here together!"

You feel the familiar, sickening lurch in your chest as the Writer takes hold of your internal monologue, turning your genuine affection for your friends into a sharp, jagged envy.

"Well, it's a library, Ara," you say, your voice dripping with an acid-tongued condescension that makes your skin crawl. "It’s supposed to be for studying, not for wandering around like a lost puppy looking for attention."

Ara’s lower lip trembles—the perfect, predictable response. Beside you, Mingyu stiffens, his fingers digging into his knees to keep from lunging toward her to apologize. His face, however, is forced into a mask of cold, dismissive indifference that mirrors your own.

"Y/N, leave her alone," Mingyu says, his voice flat and monotone, devoid of his usual warmth. "She’s just trying to find a quiet place to read."

"Oh, please," you roll your eyes, a gesture that feels heavy and robotic. "Don't tell me you're actually falling for the 'innocent, studious heroine' routine, Mingyu? We both know she couldn't tell the difference between a textbook and a magazine if her life depended on it."

Ara gasps, clutching the books to her chest as if you'd physically struck her. You want to scream, to reach out and tell her that you actually like her, that you’ve helped her study before, but your mouth is locked in its scripted cruelty.

"I... I really just wanted to return these," Ara whispers, her gaze darting to Mingyu for salvation.

NARRATION: The tension crackles as the hero steps forward to defend the maiden, his eyes burning with a sudden, intense fury.

Mingyu stands up, his movements stiff as he performs the role of the knight in shining armor. "I said, that's enough," he hisses, stepping directly into your personal space. "Go back to your little clique of sycophants and leave her out of your drama."

You meet his gaze, and for one desperate, fleeting second, the Writer's hold falters. In the depths of his eyes, you see the real Mingyu—the one who spent the night in your bed, the one who promised to protect you. He’s terrified for you, pleading with you to play along before the Writer notices the glitch and tries to delete you entirely.

You force a sharp, cold laugh, stepping back and brushing past him with deliberate, insulting intent. "You’re right, Mingyu," you snap, your voice echoing with a synthetic bitterness that makes your stomach churn. "I’m wasting my time here. It’s hard to have a conversation when the room is being occupied by, well, this." You gesture vaguely toward Ara with a hand that is shaking, though the narration box hovering above you works overtime to frame your tremor as a sign of haughty impatience.

PANEL 2 — MINGYU, ARA, AND YOU STARING EACH OTHER DOWN

Ara looks hurt, her lip wobbling just enough to satisfy the panel's requirements. Mingyu stands motionless, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The narration box pulses a violent shade of fuchsia, hungry for the conflict to escalate.

NARRATION: The villainess turns on her heel, her heart cold and empty, unaware that her cruel words have finally pushed the golden boy past his breaking point.

"Don't you dare walk away," Mingyu barks. He grabs your arm, his fingers dig into your skin, hard. "You think you’re so much better than everyone, don't you? Always plotting, always hiding."

You spin back around, your face arranging itself into a sneer that you despise, but your eyes meet his, and you transmit every ounce of your reality into that look. Play the game, you idiot. Just play the game.

"And what if I am?" you hiss, pulling your arm away with a sharp, calculated motion. "At least I know what I am, Mingyu. I know what I want. Do you?"

PANEL 3 — CLOSE UP ON MINGYU'S FACE

His expression is a masterpiece of conflicting emotions—the mask of the "angry lead" clashing with the raw, terrified honesty in his eyes. He looks like he’s trying to swallow a scream.

"You don't know a damn thing," Mingyu growls, but the cadence is off—strained and jagged. He steps closer, closing the distance until his chest brushes your shoulder. The smell of his laundry detergent—a scent that belongs to your apartment, not this scripted reality—wafts off him, a sharp reminder of the night before.

NARRATION: The air thickens with unspoken malice as the hero confronts the villainess, his heart firmly tethered to the heroine’s purity.

"Is that so?" you retort, your voice perfectly, hatefully smooth. You reach out, your fingers hovering over the lapel of his varsity jacket, tracing the embroidered school crest. "Because it looks to me like you're just playing house, Mingyu. Pretending this—" you gesture vaguely toward Ara, who is hovering in the background like a confused prop—"pretending this is your whole world."

Ara lets out a small, high-pitched noise of distress. "Mingyu, please... she's not worth it."

"See?" You tilt your head, a saccharine, patronizing smile plastered on your lips. "She's worried about your reputation. How noble."

PANEL 4 — WIDE SHOT: THE THREE OF YOU IN THE AISLE

The library shelves seem to press inward, the lighting turning a harsh, over-saturated studio white. Wonwoo is still sitting in the beanbag chair, his back turned, studiously ignoring the scene. He’s the only smart one here. He knows better than to break character when the narration is this aggressive.

Mingyu’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist again.

PANEL 5 — CLOSE-UP ON MINGYU’S GRIP.

His fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, executing the exact visual cue the script demands. But beneath the forced, white-knuckled aggression, you feel his thumb press twice against your pulse point—a quiet, unscripted reassurance meant only for you.

"You think you can just trample over everyone because of who your family is?" Mingyu barks, his voice laced with that booming, heroic resonance that makes your stomach turn. "You don't own this campus, Y/N. And you certainly don't own her."

The words sting, but Seungkwan's advice echoes in your mind: Do your part. Take the dialogue and try not to gag. You have to keep the plot moving, or the Writer will realize the file is glitched and scrap your entire universe.

PANEL 6 — PROFILE SHOT: YOU, LEANING IN.

Your body moves on autopilot, tilting your chin up with elegant, villainous haughtiness. You lean directly into his personal space, your nose inches from his varsity jacket, smelling the real-world scent of his laundry detergent beneath the fake studio lights. "Oh, is that a threat, Mingyu? Because you know how much I love it when you get all big and protective."

Ara lets out a soft, scripted gasp in the background, her doe eyes wide with predictable horror.

PANEL 7 — EXTRA WIDE: THE LIBRARY AISLE GLITCHES.

A violent wave of neon-pink static ripples through the air, causing the wooden bookshelves to warp and blur like melting digital wax. The Writer is pushing back, furious at the underlying friction of your true feelings breaking through the rigid script.

NARRATION: Fed up with her pathetic, desperate games, the golden boy casts her aside, completely severing the toxic ties of their childhood...

Mingyu’s arm jerks violently under the Writer's command. He is forced to throw your hand back, but as the invisible strings yank his muscles, he fights the momentum, letting go with a desperate gentleness that completely contradicts the narration's harsh script. A tiny spark of pink electricity pops between your palms as your fingers slip apart.

"Let's go, Ara," Mingyu mutters. His voice is heavy, carrying a deep, real-world exhaustion that the text bubbles try to disguise as righteous anger. He turns on his heel, guiding a trembling Ara out of the dimly lit aisle and back toward the safety of the main campus floor.

You watch as he leaves, sinking to the floor with a sick sense of relief when the footsteps fade. This scene is over. At least for now.

PANEL 1 — WIDE SHOT: THE CAMPUS BALLROOM

A massive banner overhead reads: ANNUAL CARAT U FOUNDER’S DAY GALA. Students are scurrying around carrying towers of pastel boxes, flower arrangements, and expensive silk ribbons. The lighting is an aggressive, over-saturated pink.

NARRATION: As the highly anticipated Founder’s Day Gala approaches, the campus is alive with romantic tension and sparkling anticipation...

PANEL 2 — CLOSE UP ON YOU.

You're leaning against a wall, elegantly dressed in a long form fitting gown, the slit climbing scandalously high. Your arms are crossed, but your fingers are restlessly spinning the pearl ring on your hand.

“A gala,” you whisper under your breath, your eyes tracking a floating pink narration box hovering near a pile of stage props. “Of course there's a gala. Because what's a cheap rom-com without a dramatic ballroom confrontation?”

The narration box twitches, sending a tiny jolt of pink static through the air.

NARRATION: ...and our scheming villainess can already smell the sweet scent of a perfectly orchestrated sabotage.

“Keep dreaming, you neon eyesore,” you mutter, stepping into the shadow of a large marble pillar to get out of the spotlight before your mouth is hijacked again.

The physical toll of the library scene from yesterday still lingers like a deep bruise. Every time you or Mingyu fight the invisible puppet strings, the static gets louder, threatening to tear the fabric of your reality apart at the seams.

Mingyu approaches you, completely in his "on-page" element, wearing a tailored navy suit that highlights his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back perfectly. But as he steps into the shade of the pillar next to you, his posture slumps into a familiar, exhausted slouch.

"Tell me you brought snacks," Mingyu mumbles, the booming confidence of his male-lead voice dropping into a tired, rough-around-the-edges whisper. "The Writer made me carry three ice sculptures across the plaza for the Gala committee. My hands are literally numb."

You can't help but smile, your fingers instantly reaching out to catch his cold hands. "No snacks, Gyu. Just a whole lot of scripted doom." You nod toward the hovering pink narration box. "It’s already setting me up to ruin the Gala."

Mingyu squeezes your hands, his dark eyes softening behind his invisible programming. "We play along just enough to keep the file from being deleted, remember? We take the dialogue. But the moment the panel freezes..." He leans down, his forehead briefly resting against yours, sending a wave of genuine warmth through the freezing morning air. "The shadows are ours."

The room is a sickeningly opulent display of crystal chandeliers, cascading white roses, and soft pastel lighting. Couples are gliding across the dance floor in perfect, symmetrical harmony.

NARRATION: The night of nights! Under the shimmering chandeliers of the Founder's Gala, destiny takes the floor...

PANEL 3 — CLOSE UP ON ARA.

She is wearing a massive, glitter-drenched ballgown that looks completely impossible to walk in. She stands near the punch bowl, looking beautifully overwhelmed.

PANEL 4 — YOU STEP INTO THE FRAME.

Your body suddenly locks into a rigid, elegant posture. Your lips curl into a poisonous, calculating smirk as the Writer violently takes the reins of your jaw.

"Oh, Ara," your mouth chimes out, dripping with venomous condescension. "Did you dress up as a literal disco ball tonight, or are you just trying to ensure the security guards can track you when you inevitably spill punch on yourself?"

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, your mind screams, but your face remains a mask of flawless, aristocratic cruelty.

Ara flinches, her doe eyes instantly welling with tears. "Y/N... I just wanted to dress up for the school..."

PANEL 5 — MINGYU INTERVENES.

Mingyu strides into the panel, his chest puffed out, stepping directly between you and Ara. His jaw is clenched so tightly a vein pulses at his temple. The real Mingyu trying to fight the static screaming in his brain.

"That's enough, Y/N," Mingyu barks, his scripted voice booming with cold, righteous anger. "Your family's money can't buy a single drop of the grace Ara has in her pinky finger. Leave her alone, or I'll personally have security throw you out."

The words sting like a physical slap, but beneath the table line, where the panel cuts off, Mingyu’s hand blindly reaches out, his thumb pressing twice against your thigh in the dark, the quiet, unscripted code you shared in the library. I'm here. I love you.

"We'll see who gets thrown out, Mingyu," your character drawls, tilting your head to flash him a haughty, mocking wink before turning on your heel.

PANEL 6 — EXTRA WIDE: THE BALLROOM LIGHTS SUDDENLY FLICKER.

A violent, jagged wave of neon-pink static rips through the chandeliers. The crystal ornaments warp into pixelated blocks, and a low, digital hum vibrates through the floorboards. The Writer is panicking; the underlying friction of your true feelings is destabilizing the scene.

NARRATION: Driven to the edge by the villainess's relentless malice, the golden boy sweeps the pure maiden into a dramatic waltz, completely erasing the shadow of his past...

The moment the imaginary camera shifts to focus on Mingyu and Ara's waltz, you make your way to the back rooms. You collapse against the backstage vanity mirror, gasping for air as you clutch your stomach, trembling from the sheer emotional whiplash. The door clicks open, and Wonwoo slips inside, his bowtie completely undone, carrying a pair of flat sneakers and a stolen plate of pastries.

"The chandeliers almost turned into literal missing-texture blocks out there," Wonwoo says flatly, tossing the sneakers at your feet. "You and the muscle-head are vibrating at a frequency that's going to get us all format-clipped."

"I know," you whisper, wiping a genuine tear of frustration from your eye. "But we kept the scene moving. We gave her the confrontation she wanted."

The door bursts open again. Mingyu stumbles in, completely out of breath. He doesn't say a word; he just strides across the room, drops to his knees, and buries his face in your lap, his massive arms wrapping around your waist like a vice.

"I hated it," he chokes out, his voice rough and stripped of all comic-book arrogance. "I hated every word."

You run your fingers through his messy, unstyled hair, leaning down to press a soft, fierce kiss against his crown. "Shadows," you whisper, and his arms tighten, his nails digging into the skin of your back with a desperate urgency. "In the shadows, it's just us."

"Okay lovebirds." Wonwoo places the plate of food on top of the vanity and quickly turns to leave. "Enjoy the physical expressions of love or whatever. I'll keep an eye out on things outside."

You gently scratch your fingers across Mingyu's scalp. "Gyu, get something in your stomach," you gently urge. "You're gonna be numb again if you don't eat."

"I hate this stupid webcomic," Mingyu mumbles, his nose buried in the satin of your gown.

"I hate this stupid story just as much," you mutter. "But hey, at least we're trapped together." You pick up a macaron off the plate and offer it to him. He obediently lifts his head and takes a bite, chewing while his arms are still stubbornly clamped around your waist.

"Marry me when all this is over," Mingyu says in his rough-around-the-edges delivery, only halfway kidding as he wraps his mouth around the dessert.

You laugh. "Why me? Why not the bubbly protagonist who's guaranteed to give you a happy ending?"

"Baby," Mingyu chuckles, resting his chin on your knee, his big, earnest eyes staring up at you. "You and I already know what the ending looks like."

"And what's that?" you ask, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger.

"This," Mingyu whispers, sitting upright and pulling you into his lap to steal a kiss, his lips sweetly smiling against your mouth. "This and everything else that comes with it."

"Yeah? And what does everything else consist of? Inquiring minds want to know," you say with a playful quirk of your eyebrow.

Mingyu slides his hand down from your shoulder to the soft curve of your hip, "Hmm...in bed. The shower. In our actual homes. Everywhere. Everyday."

"Anywhere, huh?"

Mingyu smiles again, warm and perfect and unafraid. "Anywhere. Anytime."

"And if I said right now?" you whisper.

His fingers tangle in your hair. "Baby," he teases, nipping at your lower lip. "Right here?" Mingyu murmured, his voice dropping into that rough, unfiltered register that the Writer never let the audience hear. "With Wonwoo playing look-out outside, and the entire digital universe vibrating like a faulty circuit board?"

"Especially right now," you breathed, your fingers hooking into the lapel of his tailored navy suit jacket, tugging it off his broad shoulders. "Because every time she forces you to tell me I disgust you out there, I need a reminder of what the truth feels like in here."

Mingyu drops to his knees on the floor, his fingers sliding along the slit of your long, tailored gown. "And what does the truth feel like, love?" he whispered, kissing the side of your knee through the fabric.

"It feels like this," you manage, moving his hand up higher under the shimmering satin. "Here..." you gently guided the tip of his fingers where you needed them. "Like this, Gyu."

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his warm breath against your skin. "You drive me crazy every damn time."

You gasp when he pushes your dress up higher, lips dragging across your skin as his mouth makes a path to where you needed him most. "Gyu..." you shudder out his name, your hands gripping his soft hair tightly, encouraging him closer.

"Every day," he rasped. "For as long as this webtoon runs and even after, Y/N, I'll make you feel like this. Love or not, script or not, I'm yours. Got it?."

"Got it. Understood," you murmur, tugging on the ends of his hair again. Mingyu's teeth nip at the flesh of your inner thigh, the light sting sending a jolt of heat up through your core. "Now stop teasing me, please," you whisper. "Show me what that talented tongue does. Show me."

Mingyu obeys, dragging your silky black underwear down and then placing an open-mouthed, hungry kiss where you want him the most, the flat of his tongue tasting you eagerly, the low groan from his throat making your breath catch.

"Mingyu," you moan, feeling him lift one of your legs, settling it over his broad shoulder.

His teeth scrape lightly on the bundle of nerves, your mouth dropping open, a high, wanton sigh escaping your lips as he dips a finger, sliding in gently. You tug again at the strands of his soft hair, desperately rocking against his face, and you can feel him smile.

"More, baby, please," you begged, lost in how good it felt. You wanted to make you lose yourself, forget about the damn story and the Writer and Ara and everything.

Mingyu slides a second finger into you, curving them at the precise angle that he knows drives you crazy, and you start to see stars, your spine arching, mouth forming a silent moan. He goes faster, deeper, his mouth devouring every inch, and he fucks you perfectly with his fingers until you feel nothing but euphoria.

"Please," you beg, your fingers grasping his hair roughly, tugging insistently. Mingyu leans in again, his tongue curling against your clit, and your thighs quake as the heat pools in your lower belly and then snaps in a wave. You come against his mouth with a hoarse, barely-muted cry, the feeling rippling through you, eyes rolling to the ceiling, mouth open in ecstasy. "Oh god. Yes!" you gasp as Mingyu slows his pace, sliding his fingers out and sucking the tip of his fingers clean, licking his lips, because fuck it, Mingyu can have dessert twice if he wants.

"Jesus," he breathes as your mind blanks momentarily from the intensity of your climax. He wraps his arm around your waist again, tugging you even closer. He rests his head against your belly, fingers curling possessively around your hip. "Baby, do you feel better now?"

You smirk, holding him close, gently raking your fingers through his silky locks, inhaling sharply. "As if I could feel bad with a tongue like yours working magic down there."

"It's not just my tongue, sweetheart," Mingyu teased. "There's this, too." He looks down at his very prominent erection that you could see straining against his perfectly tailored pants and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Hmm...now how did that get there," you smirk, sliding the tip of your finger along his bottom lip. "You have an extra, extra appendage. Gyu."

"I always carry it with me wherever I go," he says, getting up to his feet again, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. "Just in case my girlfriend needs a reminder that her boyfriend loves her."

You lean up to press your mouth against his, kissing him passionately, humming softly into it. "Always." you murmured before cupping his cheeks and smiling up at him. "Now, show me what your extra, extra appendage does. Gyu. Please."

Before he can reach for his belt, Wonwoo knocks on the door, yelling, "Hey lovebirds, the narration box is zooming around, looking for one of you. Chop-chop! This isn't the time."

You untangled your arms from around him, smoothing a hand down his jaw and giving it a tender pat, grinning. "Let's save that for later."

He grabs the back of your head and gives you another searing kiss before growling, "To be continued, sweetheart."

"Love you," you smiled, linking your hand into his as you head back to the ballroom to face your fated moment again.

Mingyu looks over his shoulder, lips forming the same words silently, "I love you, too, baby."

PANEL 1 — MEDIUM SHOT: THE BALLROOM THRESHOLD.

The studio lights hitting the edge of the door frame are an aggressive, glittering gold. The air pressure changes instantly as the heavy oak door opens. The heavy scent of rain and soap from the backstage floor evaporates, replaced by the suffocating smell of expensive champagne and rosewater.

Your posture snaps straight like a steel rod being bent back into place. Your hand slips from Mingyu's warm grip just a millisecond before the invisible camera lens pans over to find you.

NARRATION: Driven by bitter resentment, the disgraced queen returns to the floor, her eyes searching for the perfect weapon to mend her broken pride...

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," you whisper out of the very side of your mouth, the real you desperately trying to warn the boy beside you before your vocal cords lock up completely.

Mingyu’s jaw hitches. His eyes flash with that terrifying, real-world panic, but his body is already turning away from you, his shoulders broadening into the stiff, unnatural stance of the defensive male lead. "Do it. Just make it look real so she doesn't freeze the canvas."

PANEL 2 — CLOSE UP ON YOU.

Your face twists into a flawless, venomous sneer that feels entirely alien on your skin.

"Oh, look who decided to rejoin the living," your voice chimes out, loud enough to turn heads near the VIP lounges. "Did you finally finish playing white knight, Mingyu, or is your little charity case still crying in the restroom?"

Ara is standing just past the fountain, clutching a silk shawl. Her eyes go wide, perfectly timed tears gathering right on her lower lashes.

"Y/N, please," Ara stammers, her script forcing her to sound small and defenseless. "Why do you have to be so cruel?"

"Because someone has to keep this campus realistic, sweetie," your mouth sneers, your hand lifting to dismissively wave her away. "This entire event is high society. You look like you stumbled in from a local thrift bazaar."

PANEL 3 — MINGYU STEPS IN, FURIOUS.

Mingyu plants himself right in your path. The sheer size of his scripted frame blocks out the light, casting a long shadow across your designer gown.

"I told you to watch your mouth, Y/N," he roars, the text bubble cutting sharply across the top of the panel. He grabs your wrist, his grip visually harsh, mimicking the exact toxic trope the Writer loves.

But against the hidden skin of your inner wrist, his thumb presses down firmly twice. I've got you. Hold on.

"Ara belongs here more than you ever will," Mingyu snarls, his eyes burning with an artificial fury. "Get out of our sight before I show you exactly how meaningless your family's influence is to me."

PANEL 4 — EXTRA WIDE SHOT: THE COMIC GLITCHES.

The entire ballroom floor shudders. The edges of the panel begin to fray, the pristine marble texture dissolving into digital white space for a terrifying, split second. The neon-pink narration box hovers directly between your faces, vibrating violently as if it can taste the immense friction of your true feelings tearing at the script.

NARRATION: With one final, devastating rejection, the golden boy completely shatters the villainess's illusions, leaving her utterly—

The text suddenly halts. The glowing pink letters begin to scramble into nonsensical digital noise.

Error 404: Narrative Flow Disrupted.

"What the..." Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the static from the edge of the frame. He isn't supposed to speak in this panel, but he’s standing near the punch bowl, his reading glasses on, staring up at the ceiling as the digital sky of the webtoon begins to crack like glass.

"Mingyu," you gasp, and this time, it’s your voice. The puppet strings have gone completely slack. Your wrist is free.

The entire student body—the faceless extras, the track team, even Ara—freezes mid-motion, their expressions locked into rigid, unblinking stasis. The music stops dead.

PANEL 5 — THE SHADOWS EXPAND.

Mingyu doesn't hesitate. The second the script breaks, he grabs your hand for real, pulling you toward the edge of the collapsing ballroom floor where the white space is actively swallowing the pastel decorations.

"The Writer lost control," Mingyu pants, his varsity jacket instantly vanishing, replaced by his oversized, threadbare hoodie as reality completely destabilizes. "Wonwoo! Move!"

"Way ahead of you, muscle-head," Wonwoo grunts, sprinting past the frozen, statue-like form of Ara and diving straight into the expanding darkness of the unwritten pages.

You look back one last time as the neon-pink narration box shatters into a million harmless, glittering shards. The clichéd university, the forced love triangles, the malicious dialogues—they are all dissolving into blank canvas.

"We did it," you breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs as Mingyu pulls you flush against his chest in the pitch-black safety of the void. "We actually broke the plot."

Mingyu looks down at you, his glasses sliding down his nose, a brilliant, lopsided, unscripted smile taking over his face.

"I told you," he whispers, his lips finding yours in the quiet, absolute freedom of the white space. "Everywhere. Anytime. From now on, we write our own story."

An endless, blindingly pristine field of pure white extends in every direction. There are no walls, no floors, and no horizons. Floating randomly in the distance are discarded sketches of coffee cups, fragmented lines of dialogue bubbles, and half-rendered cherry blossom petals frozen mid-air.

You and Mingyu are sitting cross-legged on the nonexistent floor, your hands still tightly intertwined. A few feet away, Wonwoo is lying flat on his back, using a stack of unwritten text boxes as a makeshift pillow.

"So," Wonwoo says, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness. "We successfully glitched the file into a total system crash. Congratulations, team. We are officially unemployed."

"Shut up, Wonwoo," you laugh, leaning your head against Mingyu's shoulder. The sheer relief of not having a script forced into your throat is intoxicating. Your jaw doesn't ache. Your smile doesn't feel like a weapon. You are just you.

"He's right, though," Mingyu murmurs, his large fingers gently tracing the knuckles of your hand. He looks down at you through his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes completely soft and grounded. "The Writer is definitely trying to reboot the program right now. I can feel the static humming in the back of my neck. It’s faint, but it’s there."

The pristine white space beneath your feet vibrates violently. A jagged line of neon-pink code tears through the emptiness, splitting the void right down the middle like a glowing neon scar. The faint hum at the back of Mingyu’s neck suddenly turns into an aggressive, crackling roar of static.

"She's rebooting," Wonwoo barks, his calm demeanor snapping instantly. He scrambles off his stack of text boxes as the tear in the white space began to flicker wildly. "The backup save is initializing! If that code closes around us, we’re going right back to the chandeliers and the damn waltz!"

"Not happening," Mingyu growls. He doesn’t wait for the script to claim his muscles. He lunges forward, throwing his massive arm around your waist and scooping you up against his chest, his other hand locking firmly onto Wonwoo’s jacket. "Hold on!"

The white space around you begins to warp, trying to force the textures of the Founder's Gala back into existence. For a terrifying fraction of a second, the tailored gown manifests over your skin, and the phantom smell of rosewater fills your nose. Your jaw begins to stiffen, a scripted, arrogant laugh bubbling up in your throat.

No. You won't say it. You bite your lip until the taste of iron breaks the illusion.

With a roaring effort, Mingyu throws all three of you forward, diving headfirst into the flickering, dark tear in the canvas just as a massive, neon-pink command prompt filled the sky:

RESTORING CORRUPTED FILE: VOLUME 4_FINAL.

You plummet through the darkness, the sensation of falling giving way to a sudden, hard impact against a surprisingly plush carpet.

"Oof—muscle-head, get your knee out of my ribs," Wonwoo groans from somewhere beneath a pile of limbs.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mingyu pants, frantically scrambling up and immediately pulling you to your feet. He cups your face, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Y/N! Are you back? Are you you?"

You blink, shaking the last remnants of the pink static from your head. You look down. You’re wearing your favorite oversized hoodie and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. Your face is entirely yours. Your jaw is loose, completely free of the Writer’s venomous strings.

"I'm here," you breathe, throwing your arms around his neck. "I'm entirely here."

"Ahem." A polite, cheerful throat-clearing cuts through your frantic breathing. You turn your head to see Boo Seungkwan leaning over a sleek mahogany desk, a mug of hot coffee in his hand and a brilliant, knowing smirk on his face. Behind him, Joshua and Vernon are frantically typing on glowing, transparent keyboards, routing lines of blue code away from a localized server. "Right on time, Union Team," Seungkwan cheers, setting his mug down. "We just intercepted your data packets before the Writer's backup save could overwrite your awareness nodes. Welcome to the permanent grid of the Human Rewrite Agency."

Wonwoo stands up, dusting off his pants and pushing his glasses up his nose. "So we're safe? The file can't reach us here?"

"The Writer thinks your characters were permanently corrupted and deleted from the save file," Vernon chimes in without looking up from his screen. "She's currently drawing a new villainess with a bob cut and a generic mean-girl backstory to replace you in her rewrite for Volume 4. You three are officially off the registry."

A profound, breathtaking silence settles over you. Off the registry. No more floating narration boxes. No more forced backhanded compliments. No more watching the love of your life play a role meant for someone else.

Mingyu lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his massive frame shaking with pure relief. "We did it," he whispers against your skin, his hands gripping the fabric of your hoodie as if he still couldn't believe you wouldn't vanish into a panel shift. "We actually did it, baby."

You comb your fingers through his messy, unstyled hair, looking over his shoulder at the vast, bustling network of the shadows. In the distance, characters from a dozen different genres are laughing, drinking at a local bar, and writing their own unscripted lives.

"Yeah, we did," you murmur, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across your face as you leaned up to press your lips against his. "Now, come on, Gyu. I believe you promised me a very specific, completely unscripted continuation to a certain conversation backstage."

Mingyu pulls back, his crimson ears perfectly matching the brilliant, lopsided, boyish grin that belongs entirely to you. "Anywhere," he promises, his eyes deep and full of a quiet, everlasting warmth. "Anytime."

"But first, you'll need to find a new home here and meet other self-aware characters," Joshua pipes up, "You can always make this place a new home and help others like you, but—"

Seungkwan swats Joshua's arm, a huge smile on his face. "What Joshua is trying to say," Seungkwan proclaimed, "is you can stay here at HRA with us."

"There's more to the HRA than this building," Vernon speaks up. "There is a whole world you can discover."

You take the information with open arms. It may be unfamiliar, and maybe you'll have to rewrite an entirely new existence, but with Mingyu at your side, there's no fear in taking a step forward with confidence. With his fingers intertwined with yours, it feels like there's nothing the two of you can't do.

"Alright. Where do we go from here?" Mingyu asks as if he can read your mind.

"That is the million won question," You joke. Mingyu snickers, knowing what you mean. You can't afford a million won, that's what is hilarious about it. You still feel like living here for free and meeting new characters might be something you like. Not because you have to, because it is actually exciting.

Maybe things are starting to look up? You just hope The Writer has more drama planned. Maybe they'll go on hiatus and the world will shift towards an existence you want.

There is something freeing about being a character without a script. It takes more energy than living your life following the order of a Writer, but you're less miserable, and you think Mingyu agrees because even with his usual distaste for exercise and work, his smile is brighter.

Mingyu swings your hand in his grasp playfully, his shoulders less slouched and he stands taller. "What next then?"

"What next? You tell me," You challenge playfully. "After all, you are my male lead. You were written with great ideas, weren't you?"

Mingyu tilts his head and lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, the sound reverberates in your ear. "Yea, maybe. We have the rest of forever to find out, don't we?"

[pars-ley]

Title: Forever, yours

Pairing: Idol Park Jimin X Non idol Female Reader

Summary: Everyone thought finding your soulmate meant the start of your happy ending, but when yours happens to be an idol in one of the biggest kpop groups in the world all the secrets and the lies get too much. So you make a choice to put yourself first and leave. Four years on, you pick a random holiday destination to enjoy some time for yourself and who should you happen to run into?

Rating: 18+ (mature) NSFW

Genre(s): soulmate au / idol au / non idol reader / exes to lovers / angst / fluff / smut

Warnings: Talk of heartbreak, relationship break down and mentions of depression related to this / loss of close friendship / oral sex (female receiving) - not detailed / P in V unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) / creampie /

Word count: 6.5k

Beta: @lo1k-diamonds thank you so much for your always helpful suggestions

Banner and moodboard: by me

A/N: This is for @lapydiaries annual summer event 'An unexpected journey'

Taking your first mid-morning walk along the beach since you arrived here — toes sinking slightly into the warm sand and the cool breeze blowing gently through your hair — is the much needed break you'd been after. Something about the sun caressing your skin and the sea salt air makes you feel instantly rejuvenated.

Book in hand, you head to the coffee shop you'd seen when the taxi dropped you off at the apartment late last night. After a delayed flight and a stressful time at the airport locating your luggage, you wanted nothing more than to get into a comfortable bed and had definitely not felt like exploring. But after a good night's sleep, you were more than ready to begin this well deserved holiday.

The decked seating area on the beach looked like the perfect place to get lost in the pages of your novel, with a drink and a pastry. There were a few people already seated; two women chatting and giggling animatedly with each other, a couple holding hands as they looked at something on a phone and two men with their backs to you, sitting together looking out at the sea view.

Climbing up the wooden steps, you throw your flip flops down, wiping the sand off your feet before sliding them back into place and heading inside to make your order.

With the aroma of your coffee filling your senses and comforting you in its warm embrace, you relax into your seat, letting the gentle breeze dance around you. And just as you begin to fall deep into another world, you hear your name from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, expecting to see an interaction with someone that is not aimed at you, but instead frozen in shock to find yourself looking into the eyes of someone very familiar. Your heart, feeling like it's been jump started, hammers away loudly in your ears as you stare into the large, doe eyes of Jeon Jungkook.

“Kookie?” you say quietly as you stand and place your book back down on your table.

His beaming grin has you mirroring him with your own; he always had that effect on you.

“I can’t believe it's you!” he says, pulling you into a hug, and as soon as you squeeze your arms around his neck, he lifts you off the floor and spins you around. When he returns you to your feet, you're giggling and pinching his cheeks, making him blush a little, but he doesn’t pull away, just stares at you in the same wide-eyed manner as he always used to.

Oh, fuck. Is he with him? The sudden thought has you frozen in place as your eyes dart around, landing on everyone you can see, searching for that familiar blonde hair amongst them.

“It’s ok,” Jungkook starts, “he’s not here.”

You release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, and just that sentence is enough to have you relaxing again.

You take him in, broader than the last time you saw him, his muscular arms particularly noticeable in his tight t-shirt. No longer afraid to have his tattoo on show, you notice appreciatively.

“Come, sit, join me,” you say, taking your seat again and pointing to the empty chair beside yours, glad when he takes you up on the offer. “What are you doing here?” you ask, leaning forward eagerly, wanting to hear about everything you've missed.

“We’re shooting a music video for the lead single on our new album,” he says proudly, the wood of his seat creaking as he leans back.

“I have heard about the highly anticipated new album.” You grin as you bring your coffee cup up to your lips to take a sip.

Raising an eyebrow at you, he tries to rein in his smile but fails miserably. “So, you've been keeping tabs on us, then?”

This makes you chuckle, what did he expect? “Of course. I loved your album too, I listen to it all the time.”

His eyes widen and mouth forms into a small ‘o’, and it makes you giggle. “You listened to Golden? What's your favourite song?”

Why did this feel like a test? No matter, you would pass with flying colours. “Easy, either ‘standing next to you’ or ‘Yes or no’.”

He smirks playfully. “Ok, well, don't I feel special.”

Shaking your head at him, a thought suddenly had a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. “If you're here for the new album, that means Jimin is here too?”

He grimaces awkwardly, and a seriousness falls over his face as he studies you. “Yes, but he’s back at our hotel, training. You won’t see him here, don’t worry,” he insists, putting his hands up in surrender, attempting to ease your concern.

You fly halfway across the world, picking somewhere completely random and yet you end up in the same city as the person you’ve been avoiding for the last four years. If you were honest, are you even surprised at this point? Soulmates are drawn to each other, after all.

“How long are you here for?” he asks, fiddling with your napkin, the habit of fidgeting clearly still very prominent. Not that you've ever minded it.

“Ten days, you?”

He smiles at you hesitantly. “Just a week.”

A week. A week of looking over your shoulder and searching for his face in every person you pass. “Great,” you mumble to yourself, but when you look up and see Jungkook's sad expression, you know he caught it, and it's as if someone punched you in the gut. Guilt consumes you and a large knot forms in your stomach. “I'm sorry, Kookie, I really am happy to see you.”

Placing your hand on top of his, he grabs it and squeezes your fingers, giving you a false smile. “There was a time when we were friends,” he starts, avoiding your eyes and staring at the napkin he's ripped up into small pieces. “Do you remember how close we were?”

You nod, your lower lip trembling with the thoughts of everything you miss. “I'm sorry, I should have stayed in contact with you. I wanted to - I just…” your voice trails off, not even sure what to say at this point. Four years is a long time, how can you justify that?

“Hey, it's ok,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, “I understand, I do. I know how hard it was for you to walk away. I just…I miss you.”

His words slice into you like a fast knife, so quick you barely saw it coming, and without warning, a tear escapes and trails slowly down your cheek. He sits up, sliding his chair closer to you and wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I'm sorry, please don't cry, I'm not trying to upset you,” he panics.

“I know.” Squeezing his hand tighter, you admit, “I miss you, too.”

“Jungkook,” the security member with him steps in apologetically, “we should be getting back, you'll be late for the schedule.”

He nods before turning back to you and rolling his eyes. “The dreaded schedule.” He lets out a lengthy sigh and stretches his neck, making it click. “Meet me back here tomorrow morning? I'll have more time, and we can have a proper catch up?”

Thinking it over, you know the answer before you've had a chance to weigh up the pros and cons. You can't say no to him when he's looking at you so happy and hopeful. “Sure. That would be nice.”

When he stands, you join him, and he quickly pulls you into an embrace. “I'll be here at eight,” he says quietly, holding onto you for a moment longer.

You nod into his shoulder. “I'll be here.”

He pulls back, smiling at you and pressing his lips briefly to your forehead. “It's so good to see you.”

You cannot describe the overwhelming, safe, familiar feeling he brings you.

From the moment you and Jimin had started dating, and you met Jungkook, you had instantly clicked in a different way than with the other BTS members. You and Jungkook were as close as siblings; you teased him like a younger brother, and he looked up to you like an older sister, always confiding in each other and being that shoulder to cry on in your toughest times.

The night you'd had enough and made the impossible decision to leave Jimin, Jungkook was the one who ran to your side and cradled you in silence while you cried.

He stayed at your house for weeks, cooking to make sure you were eating, forcing you to get up and do things when you were catatonic. But the two of you remaining so close made it impossible to…there isn't a word for it. Move on? How can someone move on from their soulmate? They can't.

When you find them, everything clicks into place, you become bound to one another, your souls intertwined forever. When you were with Jimin, you could breathe, you felt whole, you were happy…until you weren't.

Being the soulmate of an idol comes with its own cost, one you were more than willing to pay, for a while anyway. But after three years living your life with him, you had left.

If someone had taken a knife and stabbed you in the heart, it would have been less painful than what you felt, and so many times you ended up back at his door. Each night, comforting each other in the darkness, lips on his, body to body, searching for answers you were never going to find. And each time you left, it was torture.

Jungkook had stayed because he was worried. He went between you and Jimin, consoling both any chance he got, until you realised how unfair it was for him to be stuck in the middle. He was exhausted, dark circles permanently under his eyes, no time for anything other than the two of you. He neglected his training, his work, himself. Once you realised that, it was a huge wake up call.

You found an apartment in another country and left. You said your goodbyes to Jungkook, a final nail in the coffin and didn't look back, knowing him and Jimin would be better off without your presence hindering their lives. You plunged head first into your new city, new career, and new life for yourself. An incomplete one but a life nonetheless.

To find yourself back in Jungkook's presence has reminded you, not only of everything you miss but of everything you left behind. And you were not ready to go anywhere near that world. But being around Jungkook felt safe, comforting and loving. Things you have not felt since you left four years ago. You could enjoy it for one day, right?

“I have to go. Sorry.” He gives you a beaming grin and heads off down the wooden steps and onto the beach.

“Kookie?” you call out as quietly as you can as you follow him to the steps.

He pauses and turns to you.

“Please don't tell Jimin I'm here.”

His face falls, and he looks off, a worried expression furrowing his brow. “I can't lie to him.”

You sigh, hating the position you're putting him in, but you have no other choice. “It's not lying, you're just not mentioning it.”

He gives you a curt nod, turns and jogs off along the beach with his security, leaving you with a rock in the pit of your stomach, having a feeling you won't be able to avoid seeing Jimin the whole week.

*

After a lovely meal in a restaurant on the seafront overlooking the ocean at sunset, you went back to your bed a little tipsy, enjoying your dinner with more than a couple glasses of wine. With your eyes heavy and begging for sleep, it wasn't long before you were pulled under its blanket and dreamt of Jimin. This was a regular occurrence, but the time between dreams of him has been growing longer recently, much to your relief and simultaneous disappointment.

When your eyes snap open to the bright morning light streaming through the thin curtains, a familiar ache in your chest makes you curl up into a ball and hug your knees.

Seeing his face behind your eyes every time you close them, and the feeling of his lips against yours felt so real, you could almost taste him. Licking your lips, you attempt to savour the moment before the fog of sleep completely dissipates, leaving nothing but the harsh reality of life without him.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you have an hour before you meet Jungkook. Maybe a morning swim in the ocean would start your day off nicely.

Throwing off the covers, you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth, shower and change into your swimming costume. Then, grabbing your towel, you rush off outside, trying to leave all thoughts of Jimin behind and back in that bed.

The whole stretch of sand as far as your eye can see is pretty empty, only a handful of people are already out. Finding a spot to leave your towel and belongings is easy on the vacant beach, then you race off into the water. As the tide laps over your feet, you give yourself a moment to adjust to the temperature; not freezing but not warm yet either, before heading further in. By the time the water’s up to your waist, it almost takes your breath away, but the bright sun, already fairly high in the sky, warms your skin. Diving in, you swim through the gentle current. There's something different about being in the ocean, something that makes you feel at peace. When you start to get really tired and out of breath, you turn on your back and float, staring up at the sky and searching for shapes in the clouds.

“Care for company?” You recognise Jungkook's voice instantly and sit up to tread water as he glides towards you.

“You're early,” you reply with a grin.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Are you still as good a swimmer as I remember?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I'm better.”

He arches a brow at the challenge. “Alright, first one to touch that buoy wins.” He points to the bright orange marker ahead.

Grinning widely, you agree, “You're on. Three, two, one, go,” you countdown quickly, hoping for a headstart, but he's on your tail in an instant. You remain in the lead up until a metre from the finish, and he swoops past you. But determination takes over, and you find yourself grabbing his shoulders and clambering onto his back. He shouts out to you and tries to knock you off, but this only makes you cling on tighter as you burst out laughing. He chuckles as his head sinks below the surface until he finds his bearings and powers through the water with you on his back, leaning forward, legs tight around his waist. Just as he's a foot away from the buoy, you lunge forward at it, touching it a couple of seconds before he does.

You erupt into cheers, watching the grin on his face broaden further.

“You cheated, that doesn't count,” he argues, splashing you in the face with water, making you gasp.

“I beg to differ, all you said was ‘first one to touch the buoy’. There were no specifications or rules, therefore - technically, it was not cheating.”

He rolls his eyes, a silent admission of his defeat, but before you can say anything else, he lunges towards you, grabbing you around the waist, lifting you and throwing you back into the water.

After a few minutes of playing around in the water, you both begin to head back to the shore.

“I came here early hoping to catch you,” he says, still trying to catch his breath as you wade through the water together. “I can't join you for coffee anymore, sorry.” He winces.

Nudging his shoulder, you say, “Hey, that's ok, I know your schedule must be crazy. Playing around in the sea will have to suffice.”

He looks down at his feet as you walk slowly out of the water, his whole demeanor no longer relaxed and carefree like he was in the ocean. His shoulders are tense, and he won't meet your eyes. Your stomach sinks, a thought lurking deep in your mind that churns away inside. “What is it, Kookie?” you demand.

He sighs. “I wasn't going to say anything, I promise,” he starts rambling, “but they all knew something was going on. They thought I'd met my soulmate, so I had to tell them. I'm so sorry.”

And just like that, the niggling thought that had been troubling you since you saw Jungkook yesterday became a reality.

“And, well, Jimin really wants to see you.”

“No,” you say, staring at him flatly. “I can't.”

He grimaces then and looks up guiltily towards the beach. Following his gaze to where you left your belongings, the world around you seems to stand still as your eyes connect with Jimin, and my god, did he look even more beautiful than you remembered, your dreams had not done him justice. His shoulder-length blonde locks, much longer than when you last saw him, move in the gentle morning breeze and suit him in a way you couldn’t have imagined. His plump full lips pull up into a smile so devastating, your knees wobble slightly as you remember the way they felt against yours in the dream you had last night. But you can’t return it. You’re already in panic mode, fight or flight. Your legs are powering you forward against your will, feet slapping against the surf and sinking into the wet sand with each step. Your heart, pounding so hard it hurts, desperate to be reunited with its other half, but you can’t do it. You can’t go through it all again.

Jungkook tries grabbing your hand, but you pull away, even after he calls your name. You can’t stop, your feet charging forward with a purpose: to get you the hell out of here.

You glance at Jimin. His smile has vanished, replaced with a worrisome brow, even his security is watching you, full of concern. When you're a couple of metres away, Jimin says your name, and it makes you pause for just a moment. It's long enough for Jungkook to swoop in front of you, hands on both your arms, and his big, dark eyes searching yours.

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly, “but I couldn't keep this from him.” He pulls you against his chest and holds you so tight you almost feel like you're not falling apart.

“I care about both of you, and I know how much you are hurting,” he whispers. “I've seen how much he's hurting, every day, and how much he misses you. Please, just hear him out.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you think about the love of your life standing only steps away from you. You think about when you left; you didn't even say a proper goodbye, you simply said everything in the form of a letter and were gone, shutting him out completely because you couldn't deal with more than that. Maybe you owe him that much, the chance to say goodbye, the chance for closure, even though it's impossible. But then you also think about Jungkook, how he's stuck in between you both, and after everything he's done for you, you would do anything for him.

And so you nod. “Fine,” you mumble against his chest, and he releases you, looking so relieved that he looks like he might cry.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing your forehead and waving Jimin over.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm your frantic heart, you watch as he hesitantly closes the distance between you. A shy smile on his face, reminding you of that boy you first met years ago, insecure and unsure of himself but so sweet and endearing all at once.

“You can walk me back to my apartment, which is just there.” You point a little way down the beach. “That's it, nothing else,” you insist.

He nods and puts his hands up in surrender. “I hear you, I just want to talk, that's all, then I'll leave you alone.”

You know you can trust him, but can you trust yourself? Are you strong enough to hold onto your decision? You didn't feel it at this moment, not with his sweet face staring back at you so full of love. But you push that aside and throw on a shirt over your bikini before grabbing the rest of your stuff you left on the sand.

“Do you want me to stay?” Jungkook asks, eyes flitting between you both.

You look to Jimin, who gives you an encouraging smile. “If it makes you feel better, I'm fine with it.”

You and Jimin alone — the thought terrified you, but you need to strap your big girl boots on and face this. Besides, you've put Jungkook through enough.

“No, it's ok. I'll see you later, maybe?”

He nods. “I'll call you.” He gives you a grin before running off down the beach with his security, and suddenly the atmosphere changes. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and you're sure the sun has disappeared behind the clouds, leaving a grey cast across the beach that doesn't match the warmth in the air.

Jimin walks over to his security, looking on a stone’s throw away, and has a quiet word with him, sending him away before returning to you. “Shall we?”

Nodding, you lead the way back along the sand towards your apartment. The silence is so tense it's almost choking, and in a panic, the words are out before you've fully thought about them, “What is it you want, Jimin?”

He smiles sadly, staring down at his feet. “I came to find you, you know, after you left. Four times.”

His admission stuns you and makes your feet pause.

“What? When?”

He sighs, “Every year, around the anniversary of the day we met, I'd fly to the States.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly sheepish. “I contacted someone to track you down – sorry, now I'm hearing it out loud, I realise how stalkerish that sounds.”

You let out an amused breath through your nose, unable to do more than that while still reeling at this information.

“So, if you knew where I was this whole time, why didn't you…” Your thought trails off, trying to make sense of it.

He shrugs. “I was…scared. You had already left once. And I understand why, I really do, I never blamed you for that. But the thought of knowing it was really over, of not being able to hope that you'd come back, felt too much.”

“So, every year you came to find me and then what? You'd go home?”

His cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, that makes your heart beat a little bit faster, and he gently moves the sand with his sandal. “Every year I came, it was with the intention to beg you to come home. I'd build myself up, so sure I could do it. I'd wait until I saw you; walking home from work, going to a coffee shop, taking a walk along the river. But as soon as I'd see you, more beautiful than ever, so light and free with this new life you created, I couldn't bear to come in and ruin it. I'd imagine you going home to someone who treats you good, someone who'll move heaven and earth just to see you smile. I'd think about your job, and how you dreamed of that long before we met and worked so hard to get it. I couldn't come in and ask you to stop your whole life just for me.”

You frown, confused and irritated. “Let me get this straight. You came all that way and ran off like a scared little boy?”

He flinches at that, looking uncomfortable, eyebrows turned up in confusion as this conversation clearly isn't going the way he thought it would.

“Instead of actually doing better and offering me a proper relationship, you just left again?” Your eyes search his desperately, looking for answers, but all he looks back at you with is anguish and helplessness. “You are so full of excuses, Jimin. You always have been.”

With that, you turn and begin walking again, but he grabs your hand. “No, wait, please.”

You stop, with your back to him and your eyes focused on your apartment, and give him a minute to continue, hoping and wishing he can get this right.

You want to come home to him, you always have. You want him to be there when you get home, but you deserve to be treated right, not tossed aside as if you don't matter.

“Please, it's different this time,” he pleads, and you let out a bitter laugh.

“I’ve lost count of how many times you've said that. It's never different, Jimin,” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his and stepping away, needing to put some distance between you as you can feel yourself being pulled back in. Just being in his presence is hard enough, but looking into his pleading eyes is almost too much to stay strong.

“Baby, please, I mean it this time.” He reaches out to you again, capturing your wrist and gently pulling it back towards him. “I can't live without you anymore.”

With his words, a dark cloud rolls across the sky, hiding the sun and covering the two of you in a grey cast. Your eyes dart to the water; suddenly, the waves are choppy, and the surf creeps faster up the sand than when you were just in it. The few people who had been on the beach were quickly vacating, giving you an uneasy feeling inside. The sand dances along the beach, making elegant patterns as it moves in the brisk breeze that's whipping your hair around your face.

A rumble in the distance draws both your attention upward, staring up at the gloomy sky, before he returns his focus back to you, stepping forward and leaving only a hair’s width of space between you.

“I will do whatever it takes to have you in my life,” he says, the words so intense you almost believe every single one. But you've been here before, and you know better. “I'm sorry,” he continues, taking your hands in his, and this time you don't pull away.

As you stare back into his desperate, pleading eyes, you feel your resolve start to falter. Something about the way he's staring at you and the need you see there that makes that wall you've built start to crumble.

“I'm sorry for all the times you felt like you weren't good enough.” He continues, “I'm sorry for not listening to your needs. I'm sorry for all those nights you waited up for me, and I didn't show. I'm sorry for hiding you and lying about you to everyone who asked, even other idols, when I knew how it hurt you. I'm sorry for not appreciating you enough because I expected you to always be there. I'm sorry for letting you walk out in the first place, I should have fought harder. But I have changed and I will continue to change, to be better, not just for you but myself.” He pauses to take a breath, eyes brimming with tears that yours surely mirror. “And I know that I don’t deserve another chance of you loving me, but I'm begging you,” he lands on his knees in the sand with a thud, “please, give me one last chance to prove things will be different and that I can be the man that you deserve.”

As he looks up at you, a tear finally breaks free from the dam and runs slowly down his cheek and as it does, a drop of rain lands on your head, then another and another. Suddenly, the drops are pelting down from the sky so hard around you, the landscape is but a hazy blur.

Collapsing to your knees, you can't help but reach out and wipe that tear away with your thumb. And as you do, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring the moment. The touch of his skin has your fingers tingling, a current running from him through to you, an invisible rope pulling you in again, just as his arms snake around your waist to keep you there. You can't deny how good it feels to be here, in his embrace, feeling all worries and concerns melt away into the background. Deciding to listen to your heart, pounding so loud it's practically screaming at you, instead of your head, full of questions you can't answer yet.

Water pours down your faces, but you don't care, all that matters at this moment is you and him. A flash of bright light across the dark sky is the green light you both need as he captures your lips in a fiery kiss so heated that even the devils at the gates of hell would be jealous. Thunder rumbles loudly around you, but all you can focus on is the way his hands feel against your back, holding you firmly against his hard body, and the way his lips feel exploring yours. You let yourself fall back into your bubble of love with him, even if it's only for tonight. Slowly, your guard comes down, and you find yourself exploring his mouth more fervently as if he could disappear at any moment, just like he did in your dream last night.

The taste of his lips is better than your memory has kept all these years, and when his tongue slides across yours, it lights a fire in you more powerful than a thousand suns. You're breaking the kiss and getting to your feet in an instant, pulling him up and leading him quickly to your apartment.

Shutting the door behind you, quelling some of the storm outside, you stare at each other fixed in place. The air around you is so charged you can practically hear the buzz of electricity between you, you can feel it pulling you closer, drawing you in. He moves towards you, every slow step deliberate and giving you an out, but you don't want it. You need him.

Both of you dripping, clothes see through and clinging to skin, now feeling too tight and uncomfortable. He fingers the buttons of your shirt before he peels it away from your skin and lets it drop with a slap on the wooden floor.

You follow his movements as he circles around behind you. When you feel him pull on the ties at the back of your bikini, your already pounding heart picks up pace. His fingers trace lightly across the skin of your back, sending a ripple of goosebumps down your spine, as he returns to you. He stares at you with a want so powerful you can feel it, a heat radiating from him that teases your skin. He pulls at your bikini top stuck to your breasts, and it joins your shirt on the floor. Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air hits your wet skin.

His fingers go to your hips, at the ties on your bikini bottoms. You're growing impatient to have him touch you, really touch you, to make you feel the way he used to, but at the same time, you can't take your eyes off him. He pulls at the strings on both sides and then tugs them down before taking a step back and marvelling at your naked body with an anguished brow, teeth finding anchorage in his plump bottom lip.

“God, I missed you, baby,” he sighs, closing the space between you both and pulling you against him. He kisses you, softly this time, savouring the moment.

His hands roam your body, tracing every curve and making you shiver with desire. You mould against him perfectly, but the layer of fabric between your flesh frustrates you.

Your fingers race to his buttons with none of the patience he displayed, but with your hands trembling, the task feels impossible. You growl to yourself and opt for ripping the shirt off him instead. The buttons splat out all over the room, clicking against anything they hit.

He pulls back, surprised. “This shirt cost me a lot of money, but that is so fucking hot.” His mouth captures yours again as he fumbles with his shorts, and you try to help as he pushes you towards the bed. A mess of hands and fabric, the desperation between you both so intense, you feel like you can't breathe.

As your back hits the cushioned mattress, he falls with you, his weight above you and his naked flesh against yours, taking you back to a time when you would get lost with him for hours, exploring every part of each other. Surprising how, in one moment, you can be back there again.

You feel his erection at your entryway, begging to be let in. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you use your feet to coax him inside you. You're so needy for him, he has no problem sliding inside. As he begins to move, each thrust sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to you that makes your heart swell each time, his lips move along your jaw, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Say you'll stay with me.”

Your moans echo in the quiet room, much louder than the rain beating against your windows.

“Please, baby, say it,” he groans against your throat.

You can't think, let alone speak. All you want is him, every day, for the rest of your life. You can't possibly live without him now.

He picks up his pace, hips angling at just that perfect way you like, reaching just the right spot that makes your toes curl.

“Say you're mine, please,” he breathes.

As your insides pull tight, your breath ragged and heart racing, you call out his name as you unravel around him and tell him what he's so desperate to hear. ‘I’m yours, Jimin, I'll stay.”

With that, he releases himself inside you as he peppers eager kisses down your neck, and as his movements slow, he collapses on top of you, holding you tightly. He slides out of you, settling between your breasts.

“I'll talk to the company about releasing a statement,” he says gently, but in your blissed out haze, you can't make sense of his words.

“What are you talking about?” you say as you stroke his hair.

He lifts his head up to look at you. “A statement announcing I've found my soulmate.”

Your recovering heart suddenly slams back into overdrive, pounding so hard, you know he can feel it as he leans his chin on your chest. “Jimin, you can't be serious.”

He smirks at you with a one sided smile that has your core clenching around nothing. “Let me show you how serious I am.” He replies as he begins a trail of kisses across your breasts and down your stomach.

After hours of endless leg shaking ecstasy, desperate pleas and calling out names, you fall curled up against him, leaving the worries of decisions as a problem for later.

*

Waking from the deepest sleep you've had in a while to orange sunlight streaming in through the window, flashes from this morning play behind your sleepy eyelids. Your lips swollen from kissing, your muscles aching and your core sore but in the best way possible, you reach out to the other side of the bed to pull Jimin close, but your searching fingertips find nothing.

Your eyes snap open and look frantically around your apartment, could he have left already? Did he mean anything he said?

Your stomach twists anxiously at the idea of having to start life again without him, but in the midst of your spiralling thoughts, you hear a murmur of a voice in the distance. Your eyes are drawn to the double doors overlooking the beach, left ajar. Through the thin white curtains, you can see a figure standing on the porch.

Climbing out of bed and covering your naked body with your long white shirt, you wrap it around yourself and step outside. This morning's thunderstorm is a distant memory, the sand is dry and the sun hot and setting below the horizon, and the calm sea lazily laps at the shore.

Jimin stands on the porch staring at the ocean, phone at his ear, leaning on the wooden railing, his open shirt billowing in the breeze, looking picture perfect.

“Yes, ok, thanks,” he says before hanging up. Your arms wrap around his waist, pressing your cheek to his back, and he instantly holds your hands tight to keep you there.

“Good evening, beautiful,” he says gently.

“Hi,” you reply, smiling against him. He turns in your grasp, giving you the opportunity to hook your fingers behind his neck and him an excuse to grab your rear.

“I thought you'd left,” you admit, feeling a warmth tint your cheeks.

He looks pained for a minute before hooking your chin up to meet his eyes. “Without saying goodbye?”

You smile sheepishly, a sadness beginning to creep in at the thought of him leaving. Any moment yet, he'll announce he needs to go or he has a schedule, some parting excuse.

“I take it you haven't checked your phone yet,” he says, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

This makes you frown, what on earth could he mean?

“No,” you reply, bewildered.

“Maybe you should,” he says, fighting a smirk.

Breaking the embrace, you head back into the bedroom, looking in the obvious places for it, and quite quickly, you become frantic. Where the hell is your phone?

Suddenly, you spot it on the floor, sticking out from under the bed, and make a dive for it. Unlocking it, you see a usual amount of notifications, but it was the news headline that sat at the top that had your entire focus:

“Global BTS superstar Park Jimin finds soulmate.”

Your heart swells like a balloon in your chest, fit to pop as you click on the story and read.

“He's officially off the market, army!”

The tagline makes you laugh as you skim through the words. You aren't mentioned by name, but you aren't a secret anymore.

“We've not been told what that means for Jimin specifically, but in the statement released by Hybe earlier today, they assure army all members of BTS will remain together and continue preparations for the upcoming album release and world tour.”

Jimin's hands find your hips and turn you to face him. He takes the phone gently from your grasp and throws it on the bed. “I love you,” he whispers, touching his forehead to yours. And for the first time in a long time, you feel completely at peace. Everything feels how it should be, and you can't wait to start your life with him, however that might look.

[yuta-nakamots]

Watching TV - L.Mark

Pairing - Boyfriend!Mark x AFAB Reader

Genre(s) - Fluff, Smut

Warning(s) - smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), dubcon (Mark insists 'just the tip' but it's very much not that), multiple orgasms

Summary - What starts as a joke about condoms turns into desperate, heated intimacy that ends with Mark grinning against your lips, swearing his pull-out game is flawless.

Word Count - 2.3k

Author’s Note - This was inspired by a fever dream about texting Mark

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls (join my taglist!)

Now Playing: Watching TV - Mark

Your thumbs hover over your phone longer than they should before you text your boyfriend, Mark. 

‘we’re out of condoms’

‘too lazy to go buy more’

‘how good is your pull out game?’

You don’t expect a reply right away. He was probably on his way home right now. But your phone buzzes within seconds. 

‘👀’

‘you wanna test it?’

‘because i’m almost home’

You laugh to yourself, tossing your phone aside. You were mostly joking anyway. 

By the time you hear his key in the lock, you’ve forgotten all about it. You were in sweats and one of his hoodies, reheating leftovers and scrolling through social media when he walked in with a grin tucked into the corners of his mouth like he already knows something you don’t want to admit. 

“Hey,” he greets, dropping his bag by the door. “About what you said earlier…” 

“I was kidding,” you tell him, handing him a plate. “Mostly.” 

Mark smirks, brushing a kiss to your cheek before settling on the couch. You join him not too long after. Dinner is easy, quiet. You eat with your legs tangled together, shoulders brushing, the TV humming in the background. It’s the kind of night that feels domestic. Warm lighting, full bellies, a shared blanket. Ordinary in the best way. 

But then Mark’s hand slips beneath the hem of your hoodie. Just a little. Just enough to trace circles over your bare waist, his thumb brushing the softest part of your stomach. His fingertips graze the band of your underwear like it’s an accident, but you know better.

You glance at him, ready to tease, but he’s already watching you, his gaze low-lidded and dangerous. 

“Still too lazy to go buy some?” he asks. 

You blink at him. “You’re the one who drove here and didn’t stop to buy any.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, lips twitching. His fingers trail higher, ghosting just beneath the curve of your breast before slipping away again. “Guess we’re not doing anything tonight, then.” You shove his shoulder lightly, but he only laughs, leaning closer until his breath warms your ear. “Nothing at all,” he whispers, hand skimming down your thigh under the blanket. 

“Nothing,” you agree, biting back a smile, though neither of you seems to mean it as the teasing touches linger, each one daring the other to break first. 

The first kiss is slow, more a press of mouths than anything urgent. But it builds fast, his fingers skating under your shirt, yours curling in his hair, the blanket slipping off both of your laps as he nudges you onto your back. 

Mark’s hips settle between yours. It was just the weight of him, the warm slide of sweatpants against you. Then he grinds down, and your breath catches. 

He groans, low and sharp. “Are you sure we don’t have anything?” he groans into your neck. “And you’re not—”

“Nope,” you respond, already rolling your hips up into his. “Not on anything.” 

You both freeze for a second. The tension builds between you in a shared, sharp awareness. But then he does it again, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, letting you feel how hard he is even through the layers. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is—this is so bad.” 

“It’s so bad,” you echo, arms tightening around his shoulders. “But you feel so good.” 

You’re both laughing under your breath, the kind of laugh that dissolves into breathless sighs as your bodies fall into a rhythm. Dry heat. Friction. His hips meet yours again and again, your panties growing damp.. You feel his cock twitch, how close he’s getting just from this. 

Mark pulls back just enough to look at you. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” 

“Doing what?” you tease, but your voice is thin, your thighs already trembling. 

He kisses you again, messier this time, his hand dipping down between you and into your underwear. His fingers slide through the heat of you, and he groans into your mouth. “You’re so—” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pushes two fingers inside, your walls gripping him instantly, and he swears against your lips. 

The stretch makes you gasp, your hips lifting into his hand. He curls his fingers just right, knuckles dragging against your softest spots until your thighs tremble. It’s all slick sounds and sharp breaths now. His fingers massaging your walls, your hips rocking into his hand helplessly. 

Your hand finds him, too, slipping past the waistband of his sweats. He’s flushed and hard when you feel the silky heat stretched tight over the heavy length of him. He shudders when your fingers wrap around him, leaking slick against your palm. You stroke him in time with the thrust of his fingers inside you, the rhythm sloppy and desperate but perfectly matched, each of you unraveling the other with every tug and curl. 

“Fuck, babe—” Mark’s forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers pump faster, curling deep until your thighs quake. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with each movement, pulling sharp little sounds from your throat. You squeeze him harder in return, dragging your thumb over the swollen, wet tip, making his hips jerk helplessly into your hand. 

It builds fast, too fast, and you’re clenching around his fingers, pulling him deeper, moaning into his mouth as your body seizes with release. He doesn’t let up, working you through it until your hips fall limp beneath him, sweat slicking your skin. 

You barely catch your breath before you’re fumbling at your waistband, tugging your pants and underwear down your legs, and tossing them aside. Mark sits back, chest heaving, pupils blown wide as he watches you crawl towards him. 

“Wait, wait—” Mark’s protest is drowned in a choked sound as you kneel between his thighs and tug his sweats down just enough to free him. He’s thick and flushed in your hand, twitching when you lean down to take him in your mouth. 

The first wet lick up the full length of his cock has his head tilting back against the couch. “Oh, fuck.” His fingers thread into your hair, not pushing, just clinging. 

You hollow your cheeks, sliding down until he hits the back of your throat, then pulling off with a wet pop to lick along the sensitive underside, tongue tracing every vein until he’s trembling. Mark moans helplessly, thighs flexing beneath your hands.

When you cup his balls gently, his whole body jerks. He gasps your name like it’s the only word he knows, high and thin, hips twitching up despite himself. You suck harder, dragging your tongue in slow, deliberate laps, alternating between swallowing him down and teasing the swollen head with light flicks until he’s whimpering. 

“Fuck—baby, please…please, I can’t,” he pants, tugging weakly at your hair. “You’re killing me.” His voice breaks on a groan. “I need to be inside you, just the tip—I promise, just the tip.” 

You hum around him, pulling back just enough to smirk. “Only the tip. You have to promise.” 

“I promise!” he cries out, already dragging you up for a desperate kiss. 

You’re already half gone, nodding as he pulls his sweatpants and underwear off, throwing them to join yours on the floor. He pushes you back against the couch, guiding himself to your entrance. The first stretch has you crying out, your nails digging into his arms. 

Mark shudders, jaw tight, pushing only the head of his cock inside. His whole body shakes as he exhales through clenched teeth, forehead pressing to yours. 

“Fuck—just the tip,” he growls, almost like a warning to himself. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he fights not to push farther, but every pulse of your walls around him drags him deeper by instinct. He’s panting, chest heaving, veins standing out in his neck, yet he stays still, like he’s convincing himself as much as you. But then your hips twitch, a needy little roll that drags another inch of him inside.

“Mark,” you whine, already trembling. 

He curses again, thrusting shallowly, just enough for the tip to press and retreat. His resolve breaks with every little sound that escapes from your mouth. Each time he rocks forward, more of him slips past the tight clutch of your walls until you feel the thick weight of him stretching you open. 

“I only meant—just the tip,” he pants, but the lie dies when his hips drive forward harder, burying half of him in one slick thrust. “God—fuck—you’re so tight,” he stammers, voice cracking. His rhythm falters as he pulls almost all the way out, then sinks back in, slower this time, savoring every inch. 

You cry out, back arching, knuckles white against his shoulders. “Mark—fuck, you’re already inside,” you whimper, voice breaking. “You might as well just fuck me.” 

Mark squeezes his eyes shut, groaning like he’s tearing himself apart. But your desperate pleas crack him wide open. With one hard thrust, he pushes fully inside, hips flush to yours, the stretch searing and euphoric. 

The heat of him fills every inch, thick and throbbing, textured veins dragging against your walls until you’re gasping, overwhelmed by how deep he reaches. You cling to him like you’ll fall apart if you don’t, sobbing his name against his shoulder as he holds you there, buried in your wet heat, shaking with the effort to stay in control. 

It’s too much, too hot, too good. Mark sets a rougher pace, hips snapping into yours with raw need. His body trembles against you, growls ripping from his throat as he loses his rhythm. You’re gasping, nails scraping down his back, his body shaking with the effort of holding on. 

“Shit—shit, I’m gonna cum—” His thrusts grow frantic and desperate, the tip of his cock nudging so deep you swear you can’t breathe. 

Your hands fly up, clutching Mark’s face, forcing him to look at you. “Not inside, Mark—You have to pull out.” Your voice is broken but firm, even as your own pleasure crests. 

He groans miserably, teeth gritted, fighting his body’s instinct. “Fuck—I will, I will—”

Mark’s hips stutter before he yanks out at the last second with a ragged groan cry, spilling hot across your stomach in heavy spurts where your hoodie rode up. The sound of his pleasure tears out of him, sharp and guttural, as his body bows and then collapses forward. His forehead falls to your shoulder, chest heaving, his muscles trembling with the aftershock. His breath is harsh against your neck, broken gasps tangled with the sound of your own ragged breathing. 

But he doesn’t stop. Still shuddering, he drags his mouth down your throat, pushing your hoodie up higher, exposing your breasts, and leaving open-mouthed kisses on them as he makes his way lower. His hand slips between your thighs, spreading you wide as he settles in, his other palm smearing through his own release across your skin. He groans at the mess, at how wet you already are even before his tongue is on you. 

The first drag of it is slow and deliberate, from your entrance to your clit, but then he’s sucking you into his mouth, greedy and insistent. He flattens his tongue against you, licking broad and heavy until you’re writhing, then narrowing to spear inside you, fucking into your heat with wet strokes that make your hips jump. He pulls back just enough to circle your clit, lips closing around it, sucking until your vision swims. 

“Mark—holy fuck—” Your voice cracks, your thighs trembling around his head, but he only groans into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. He alternates between tongue-fucking you deep and sucking hard on your clit, working you with a feral sort of focus that leaves you gasping. The wet, obscene sounds fill the air as he slurps at everything you give him, tongue drinking you down like he can’t get enough. 

It’s too much, the pleasure building until it finally breaks you. Your body arches, shuddering hard as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping tight around his head. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow, licking you through it, swallowing every drop as you cry out and shake against him. 

Only when you’re trembling and boneless does he finally let up, kissing back up your body in slow, messy lines. His tongue traces your stomach, licking up the cooling streaks of his cum, lapping at the taste of himself before moving higher. 

When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deep and wet, pushing the salty tang of him and the sweetness of you onto your tongue. The kiss is filthy and desperate, spit-slick and hungry, until you’re both panting against each other’s mouths. 

At last, Mark lowers himself onto you, his body heavy and warm as he goes limp. His arms circle around your shoulders, holding you close, his cheek pressed to yours, while his breathing finally starts to steady. 

His hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead when he finally cracks a grin against your cheek, breath ghosting over your skin. He nuzzles into you, lips brushing lazily along your jaw before he murmurs, voice hoarse but teasing. “My pull out game is pretty solid, huh?”

You let out a weak laugh, still dazed, smacking lightly at his shoulder. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Mark only chuckles, smug but exhausted, pressing another sloppy kiss to your mouth as if to seal his point. “Almost doesn’t count, babe.” 

You groan, burying your face in his chest, but the corners of your mouth betray you with a smile. His arms tighten around you, and even as his joke lingers, he melts further into your body, humming softly as sleep starts to creep in. 

Edit: To celebrate this fic reaching 1k notes I compiled a short list of p!links that are related to the fic. (Must be signed in to Twitter/X to view the links.)

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like LOL (Laugh-Out-Loud) - S.Johnny

[shadowkoo]

Leave A Window Unlocked - Freaktober Day 1

31 DAYS OF DARKNESS ❦ FREAKTOBER 2025

ⓘ 𝖉𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖘: in which you invite a masked stranger to break into your home and wake you in a most devious way...

ghostface/masked!mingi (atz) x f.reader

2.1k words | 18+ | smut, pwp, strangers to fuck buddies (i would say lovers ? but they’re not in love lol), mild horror

ⓘ 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖘: This fic contains horror-related elements or kinks that may trigger some readers. Please review the warnings below and read at your own risk! This work is fictional and written for adults who enjoy exploring horror-inspired kinks in a safe and imaginative space. It does not reflect the IRL behavior of any kpop idol, and I do not condone non-consensual advances, harmful behavior, or sexual violence in real life. This work is created for entertainment only. Always practice safe, sane, and consensual sex.

ⓘ 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: unprotected & explicit sex, rough sex, getting fucked harddddd, degradation, dirty talk, size kink (and mingi is obvi slinging a beast of a cock duh), mask kink, clit flicking, clit pinching, begging, choking, consensual dubious consent, glamorized fetishes/kinks, unsafe kink practices, stranger danger, light weapon play, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, power dynamics

ⓘ 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: it’s finally here!!!!! happy freaktober everyone, i hope the next 31 days are everything you dream them to be >:)

𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖊𝖘…

“Oh my…” you say to yourself as you come across a striking profile on KinkLink, the newest hookup app that you finally gave in and downloaded a few days ago. His profile cover is a selfie taken from a lower angle that lets you see every groove and ripple across his toned stomach and chest. But, despite being ridiculously hot, it’s the ghostface mask covering his face in every photo you scroll through that steals your attention, causing a wave of wetness to settle in your core.

You’ve always had what some would call a sick fantasy when it comes to masked men…

It’s often that you touch yourself to the idea of a masked stranger fucking you while nearly strangling you to death. And now the universe seems to have given you this gift.

“Fuck meeee,” you whine, as you get to the last photo. It’s one where he’s naked, all but for the mask. Your eyes trail down the deep ‘V’ leading down to where, what you could only imagine, would be where his massive cock is. However his hands hide his goods, only barely showing some of the dark hair down there, which purposely teases you just enough to leave you craving more.

You swipe to like, and match instantly. With no shame, you open the chat with ‘ScreamAndCream99' and start the conversation.

⚪️ Nice screen name, very punny. Any plans tonight?

The ‘read’ receipt shows soon after, and you watch the little dots move as he types out his reply.

🟢 You, apparently. DTF, I assume?

⚪️ Only if you wear the mask

🟢 Of course, sweetheart. That’s a very important rule of mine.

⚪️ I see lol any others I should be aware of?

🟢 Several, curious?

⚪️ Maybe just a little…

🟢 Rule 1, give me your address. Rule 2, leave a window unlocked but don’t tell me which one. Rule 3, go to sleep naked. Rule 4, use the safeword ‘phantom’ if you get spooked, and perhaps I’ll consider stopping…

Your heart races, but before you have time to reply, he sends another set of messages.

🟢 No promises though

🟢 Still DTF after knowing that?

⚪️ Good thing I don’t spook easily

You send your address next, your heart nearly beating out of your chest when your phone vibrates with his reply.

🟢 Good girl

You’re half asleep when you think you hear something–someone–but after sitting up and listening intently, you chalk it up to your imagination and excitement, before lying down and drifting back to sleep.

Mingi watches from the dark corner of your room as your breathing settles again. He’s been here for a little over an hour, watching through the holes in his mask as you slept peacefully. Blissfully unaware of any danger. An easy target for his taking.

You looked right past him when you sat up moments ago. It took nearly all of his self-restraint to stay still as your blankets fell away from your upper half, exposing your breasts and the soft mound of your nipples underneath the small amount of moonlight bleeding in through your window. When you thought you heard something in the distance, they hardened into little round, protruding peaks, and his length hardened simultaneously.

Maybe target isn’t the right word.

You want this. You initiated this.

Willing participant might be the better choice of words…

You stir in your sleep once again, this time rolling from your side onto your back.

It’s time. Mingi grips the knife handle tightly before taking a step closer to your bed.

Slowly, he pulls the covers away from your body, and is pleased to see that your legs are already spread for him. With his free hand, he drags two fingers through your folds. You’re already weeping for him, so warm…so inviting…as his fingers sink into your core.

He can’t help but groan. “Mmm, I can’t fucking wait to have my fun with you.”

Your eyes flash open, hearing his deep voice and becoming aware of the sensation between your legs. You gasp, coming face to face with the masked, shirtless man, and attempt to sit up.

Mingi’s quick though and lifts his other hand, pressing the knife up against your neck. The sharp blade stings from the pressure, but he’s practiced enough to avoid cutting…anymore. It’s just enough to partially strain the breathing pattern to scare his usual victims.

You’re different, though. He doesn’t scare you, and somehow that turns him on even more.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with danger. “I’ve got big plans for you tonight. I hope you know what you signed up for.” His fingers curl into you faster now, and your eyelids flutter closed as the heat grows in your center.

“Hi, Mr. Ghostface. Are you gonna give it to me good tonight?” You ask, voice raspy from the lack of air, with a devilishly innocent look on your face. Your hands slide up his bare biceps, nails digging into his flesh as you continue speaking, “I want to be fucked. I want to be ruined. I want to be used. I’ve been so well behaved, and no one can seem to give me what I want, what I deserve.”

Jesus Christ. Whose fucking bedroom did he walk into, and how can he sign up to stay here?

“Be careful what you ask for, baby. My self-control is already hanging on by a very thin thread,” he breathes, his cock straining against the front of his pants.

“Should I find some scissors, then?” you quip with a teasing smile that spreads across your lips as you open your legs wider. One of your own hands trails down between them, joining his.

He watches, completely stunned, as you collect some of your slick before smearing it across your clit, rubbing in small circles as you work yourself up. The divine sound of your little pants echoes in the room.

“Well, are you going to take over, or would you rather watch me get myself off?”

His eyes burn into yours once he’s come out of your spell. Yeah right.

“Get that fucking hand away from your pretty little cunt right now,” Mingi demands.

You obey, bringing your fingers to your mouth to lick them clean, eyes locked on his as you suck off your natural dew.

The final piece of the thread snaps when you release them with a satisfying ‘pop,’ and his entire demeanor changes.

Tossing the knife aside–as it won’t be needed–he works to remove his pants, then towers over your frame. Your mouth involuntarily drops seeing the size of him. He's enormous; his thick tip is probably similar in size to your closed fist.

Another wave of wetness washes through your folds, barely in enough time before he lines himself up. Both of your moans intermingle when he runs his cockhead up and down your slit.

He does it again, and again, and again. Teasing you. Taunting you. Making you lose your fucking mind.

Your body shudders as his leaking tip 'accidentally' rubs up against your clit.

“Rule five,” he grunts, before lowering his length and slamming into you, finally. All the air in your lungs escapes as he splits you open, taking up all the available space inside of you, forcing you to stretch for him. “This cunt is all mine for tonight. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

“Feels…so…good,” you mewl, sucking in a breath as the last few inches push into you.

Without any warning, your masked stranger jerks his hips back, leaving you feeling empty before he thrusts back in. His pace picks up as he pounds into you over and over, driving you further up the bed each time from his insane power.

Your panting quickens, feeling the coil inside you getting dangerously close to unraveling. You clench around him, and panic hits you.

“No,” you whine. “I can’t come yet.” Your inner walls clench again helplessly, despite your words.

“Yes, you can, baby. Come all over me as I tear this pussy apart. Let me feel you lose control.” His words don’t help your situation.

“I don’t want this to be over already!”

He lowers his face to your ear, his whisper slightly muffled because of the mask. “I’m nowhere near finished with you. In fact, later you’ll be begging for me to stop.”

“P-Promise?” you mewl, on the edge, fighting so hard to keep your first orgasm at bay.

He leans back, his pace slowing intentionally as his hand wipes a stray tear from your eye. “I promise, now come for me.”

As he speaks, pleasure courses through your blood.

Mingi is mesmerized by the way your body convulses below him. He grits his teeth, keeping his own release in check as he fucks you through yours.

“Oh my g-god,” you cry out as he returns to his original unforgiving pace, refusing to give you a break.

“What did I say? We’re just getting started.” Lifting a leg onto his shoulder, he takes you from a deeper angle. One that has his tip hitting your cervix. Your eyes widen as the next orgasm already begins building.

“I think you deserve a necklace for being so obedient. What do you think, sweetheart?”

You nod, unable to form words, and his hands wrap around your neck. Both thumbs apply just enough pressure to the right spot so you see stars from the lack of oxygen.

“That’s it,” he groans, “You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?"

You don't even have to answer; your face shows it. The way you bite your lip in response urges him to go harder.

"I knew you were just a sick slut, needy for someone’s cock to stretch you out. No one sane would allow a stranger to break into their home and fuck them like this.”

His grip around your neck tightens.

“But you love it like this. You’re just as nasty as I am. And you take me so fucking well. Look at us.”

His grip around your neck loosens some, allowing you to glance down to where your bodies meet. You moan at the sight of his beast of a cock disappearing inside of you with ease. A bulge appears in your lower belly each time he thrusts.

“See me inside of you, filling you up?”

Unable to look away, your walls flutter around his length. Heat pools once again, this time squirting out of you uncontrollably. You toss your head back and grip the sheets between your fingers, knowing you’re on the verge of coming.

Mingi chuckles as you struggle to find a grasp on reality, but this is a fight you won’t win.

“You’re going to come again, even if you don’t want to,” Mingi sneers, releasing one of his hands from your neck, taking it to your clit. His thumb draws a few circles before pulling back to curl it and his middle finger together. He flicks your swollen bundle of nerves, and the sensation sends shockwaves through you. The pain soon turns into pleasure as he squeezes it between his fingers, and you’re done.

You scream out, your next orgasm crashing over you whether you want it to or not. This one coats his cock in a thick layer of your slick, the excess spilling out onto your sheets, leaving a damp spot.

That visual, along with the obscene sounds of skin smacking skin, has him teetering on the edge.

“I want you to come in me. Please come in me, please fill me up,” you beg as more tears fall. "I need it so bad. Please give it to me!"

“Fuck!” Mingi grunts, his lower abs tensing as his seed shoots into you. He fucks it further inside, wanting to claim every inch of you with his cum. His cockhead pulsates between your walls, which shudder around him one final time before you pass out from the intensity of it all.

Huh, that’s a first, he thinks.

You’re still breathing, so he’s less concerned. He’d be disappointed if he fucked you to death. His eyes scan over your face as his cock twitches inside you again, shooting out the last sting of his release.

He pulls himself out of you and takes off his mask, rubbing a hand over his sweaty face.

You gradually blink back into consciousness, and he smiles, revealing a gorgeous set of teeth against a beautiful mouth and an even more stunning face. You blink a few more times as you wake up, but your room is now empty.

If it wasn’t for the mess left between your legs, you might have wondered if this was all just a really good dream…

𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖌𝖊 - Sign up for my freaktober taglist to get notified when more fics are posted! You can choose specific ones, or all of them!

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[lovetaroandtaemin]

Worship Like a Dog

Joshua Hong x fem!Reader

Word Count: 13,498 Genre: Fluff, smut, slight angst AU: Non idol AU, pastor!Joshua Tropes: Strangers to friends to lovers Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI! Warnings: Blasphemy, Jihoon is a toxic and slightly misogynistic asshole but reader dumps his ass I promise, definitely a power imbalance because Joshua is reader's pastor, smut (soft dom!Joshua, unprotected sex, creampie, oral, dry humping, sex in a church closet, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, Joshua has a corruption kink, breeding kink, virgin!reader at the beginning). If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

Summary: Your church's new pastor teaches you about more than faith.

Nets: @cosyhomenet, @winerys-collection, @mnemosynesjournal

A/N: Shout out to the absolutely wonderful @okiedokrie-main, @nothoughtsjustfic, @effervescentorbs, @ohnoitsanotaku, @themoonlightfae, and @spacequokka for listening to me talk about this fic and helping me with ideas during the very long brainstorming and writing process! I love you guys so much. And in case anyone was wondering, all of the quoted Bible verses are from the New Living Translation.

Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @notyourjaem, @ikeukiss, @shadowkoo, @my-neurodivergent-world, @1800dojaejung, @aeristudios, @thestraybunny, @mylovesstuffs, @be-my-sunrise Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!

Fic is under the cut.

You loved your parents dearly, but you hated attending their church. Not because you weren’t a believer, and not because you disliked church in general, but because you’d completely lost any and all respect you ever had for the church’s head pastor. Reverend Yoon had a good reputation in your hometown, and most of the other members of the congregation adored him, but you hadn’t felt the same for a long time. After all, he seemed to have a very superficial view of faith, putting more emphasis on following rules than actually loving and trusting God in his sermons.

You were actually considering finding a new church to attend when you found out that Reverend Yoon was leaving. On a seemingly random Sunday, he told everyone in the congregation that God was calling him to work as a missionary, but the way he fidgeted as he spoke and refused to meet anyone’s eyes when they approached him after service told you that there was probably more to the story than he was letting on. Regardless of the reason, however, you were relieved that he was leaving.

The following Sunday, you met Reverend Yoon’s replacement. As you walked into the church with your parents and Jihoon, your longtime boyfriend, you noticed a man that you hadn’t seen before standing at the front of the room. As you watched him speak with church leaders whose names you’d stopped caring to remember, you started to wonder what this new pastor was like, so you decided to introduce yourself. Before you could, though, Jihoon pulled you to your seat, and service begain.

With a confidence that you could only wish you had, the man you’d noticed when you walked in approached the pulpit and said, “Hello, everyone. I’m Reverend Hong, and starting today, I’ll be taking Reverend Yoon’s place as he moves on to have new experiences and grow in his faith. Before we begin with the announcements and opening prayer, however, I want to say thank you. Thank you, everyone, for attending today and giving me a chance.”

Jihoon seemed unimpressed by the introduction, but you were moved by the way Reverend Hong spoke immediately. Even his simple introduction seemed to have more passion than an entire sermon delivered by Reverend Yoon, and you felt oddly hopeful. It was too soon to say for sure, but you were already considering continuing to attend services where you were rather than searching for a new church like you’d originally planned.

For the most part, the rest of the service was no different from what you were used to. The worship team sang various Christian songs that you’d heard on the radio, there were prayers for members of the congregation that had been struggling, and shiny offering plates were passed along each row of seats so that everyone in the congregation could give money to the church. When Reverend Hong started his sermon, however, you realized that he really was nothing like Reverend Yoon.

Your eyes were fixed on Reverend Hong from the moment he stepped closer to the pulpit and said, “Hello again, everyone. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming today. It is such a joy to be here with all of you to worship God.” He paused for a moment to collect himself before he continued, “Today, I wanted to talk a bit about new beginnings. Not just because today marks the beginning of my time as head pastor at this church, but also because the past few months have been a time of change for everyone. As we leave the previous year behind and start anew, it’s important to remember to trust God in all of our endeavors. New beginnings may seem frightening, but God will always have our backs, no matter how difficult life gets. As the book of Psalms says, ‘The Lord is a shelter for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.’”

From the moment that Reverend Hong began to speak, you felt a wave of peace wash over you that you weren’t really used to. Sure, you considered yourself a devout Christian, but that was because of the time that you’d spent studying the Bible on your own time. You’d never been moved by a sermon before, especially so early. You were pleasantly surprised by your church’s new pastor once again.

As Reverend Hong continued to speak about trusting God in uncertain times and the joy that can come from new beginnings despite their difficulties, you continued to find yourself unusually emotional. You even started to cry at one point, something that had never happened during a church service before. As the sermon concluded with another Bible verse, you realized that you’d completely changed your mind about finding a new church.

When service was over, you finally got the chance to introduce yourself to Reverend Hong. He had a crowd of people around him that wanted to do the exact same thing, though, so you had to wait longer than you would have liked. Still, you were excited to finally speak to the man that made you tear up during a sermon for the first time in your life.

When the crowd started to disperse, satisfied with their first impressions of the new pastor, you moved closer and introduced yourself.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Reverend Hong responded as he reached his hand out for you to shake. “What did you think of today’s sermon?”

You shook his hand as you said, “I thought that it was beautiful. Today was actually the first time I’ve ever been moved to tears during a sermon.”

“Really?”

You nodded and continued, “Your passion when you speak about God is admirable.”

“Thank you very much.”

“I’m really looking forward to next week’s sermon,” you said with a grin.

“Thank you. I’m so happy to hear that.”

You heard Jihoon call your name, and that was when you said, “I have to go now, but it was wonderful to meet you. Have a blessed day!”

“I hope you have a blessed day, as well.”

You walked away from Reverend Hong to find your boyfriend, who was standing by the entrance looking slightly annoyed. When you reached him, you asked, “Is everything ok?”

“Everything is fine, dear,” Jihoon answered, though you knew he was lying.

“Are you ready to go?” you asked. He nodded, and you took his hand and walked out of the church.

Once you and Jihoon were in the car, he sighed and asked, “So, what do you think of Reverend Hong?”

“I’m not sure yet,” you answered. That was a lie, but Jihoon didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Really? You seemed to like him quite a bit.”

“I mean, he’s passionate when he speaks, and I admire that.”

He laughed softly and said, “I don’t know if I’d describe him as passionate. Melodramatic seems like a better word.”

You went quiet after that, and Jihoon continued to talk about how Reverend Hong spoke with too much emotion and didn’t seem to know the Bible as well as Reverend Yoon did. You thought that Jihoon was judging Reverend Hong far too harshly, though, especially because he’d only heard one sermon from the new pastor. However, you didn’t share your thoughts with your boyfriend. After all, what was the point of speaking if you knew he wouldn’t listen?

When Jihoon pulled up to your apartment building, you leaned over to kiss his cheek, but before you could, he moved away and said, “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Ok, I love you.”

Jihoon didn’t respond, so you got out of the car and went into your apartment. As you went about the rest of your day, you wondered what you’d done wrong this time for your boyfriend to move away from you when you tried to do something as simple as kissing his cheek. And for him to refuse to say that he loved you? You were devastated.

It was strange, really. When you and Jihoon first started seeing each other, he was one of the most affectionate men that you’d ever met. He never went a day without telling you just how lucky he was to have you, he always had his arms around you, and he got excited to spend time with you. Now, he still acted like that sometimes, like when he wanted something from you or when you acted the way he thought a woman of God was “supposed to act,” but for the most part, you were lucky if he told you that he loved you back. He never initiated physical contact with you, and half the time, he moved away if you tried to. Attending church together and going on dates felt more like a formality than something that was done because he wanted to see you.

You loved Jihoon dearly, you really did, but you didn’t know if you could continue with a relationship where you felt like you had to constantly make yourself smaller to be treated like you were worthy of love.

After that first sermon, your admiration for Reverend Hong only grew. Each week during Sunday service, he spoke with such love and passion, whether he was advising against sinful behavior or reminding the congregation of God’s love for them. And almost every time, he brought you to tears as you pondered his sermons and noticed feelings that you didn’t quite have a name for yet blossoming in your chest.

As your respect for Reverend Hong grew, however, your relationship with Jihoon got worse. On top of his prior behavior, he was now accusing you of spending too much time with other men, even complaining about Reverend Hong whenever you spoke to him after service.

“I’m just saying, it’s suspicious that you talk to him every week after service.”

“Why is it suspicious that I want to talk to my pastor?”

“You never used to stay to speak to Reverend Yoon after service.”

“Reverend Yoon made me uncomfortable and cared too much about enforcing rules he himself didn’t follow to encourage a connection with God the way Reverend Hong does.”

“I liked Reverend Yoon,” Jihoon mumbled in response.

“That’s not the point,” you spat. “The point is that it’s not wrong for me to want to speak to my pastor.”

Jihoon sighed and said, “You know what, I’m going home.”

“Fine,” you said as Jihoon left.

Once you heard Jihoon pull away, you plopped onto your couch and sighed. He’d been so controlling lately, you didn’t think that you wanted to be with him anymore. The realization hit you like a brick, but once you had the thought, it wouldn’t leave your mind. So, you did what you always did. You prayed, and when you finally stood up to go about the rest of your day, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

The decision to leave Jihoon hadn’t been an easy one to make, but it was what you knew needed to happen. The only problem was that you didn’t know how, so you decided to get some advice after church. You arrived for service with your parents and boyfriend like usual, but instead of going right to your seat, you went to the front of the church to find Reverend Hong. When he saw you, he smiled and said, “Hi! How are you today?”

“I’m doing well, Reverend. Thank you for asking,” you answered as you tried to maintain your composure. “Can I speak to you about something after service?”

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. I just need some guidance on a personal matter.”

“I understand. Come see me after service, and we’ll pray together. See what God calls you to do after that. Then, we’ll see when we can discuss further if you need additional advice.”

“Wonderful. Thank you so much, Reverend.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I still appreciate it,” you replied before leaving to find Jihoon.

When you found your boyfriend and sat down next to him, you noticed that he seemed frustrated. You wanted to ask him why, but before you could, the service began, so you decided to talk to him after you saw Reverend Hong. In the meantime, you would enjoy another service.

After the sermon and closing prayer, you asked Jihoon to wait for you outside the church. He agreed, and you approached Reverend Hong. There were a number of people already speaking to him, so you waited patiently and thought about how you wanted to approach the conversation when you asked him for advice. You didn’t want to sound disrespectful, but you also knew that downplaying the way that Jihoon treated you wouldn’t help you, so you chose to just be honest.

You were so focused on deciding what to say, you didn’t hear Reverend Hong calling your name at first. You didn’t even realize he was trying to get your attention until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped at the sudden contact, and Reverend Hong said, “I’m so sorry I startled you. Are you alright? You seemed like your mind was elsewhere.”

“I’m ok, Reverend. I was a bit lost in thought; I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were trying to get my attention.”

“It’s alright. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

With a sigh, you quietly answered, “I’ve been struggling a bit with my relationship. I love my boyfriend, but he doesn’t act like he loves me unless I’m doing something that benefits him or behaving the way that he thinks that I should.” It was a lie at that point to say that you loved Jihoon, but you didn’t think Reverend Hong needed to know that.

“What do you mean by ‘the way he thinks that you should?’”

“Well, there are times that he tells me I’m not acting like a godly woman, and if I don’t meet his standards, he acts like we aren’t even together. The way he treats me is so confusing.”

Reverend Hong looked like he was troubled by your admission, but he quickly shook his head and changed his expression to a soft smile before he said, “Have you ever tried to talk to him about the way that he treats you?”

You nodded and said, “He doesn’t listen, but I have tried. I think I need to leave him, but I don’t know how to start the conversation.”

“Well, that’s what we’ll pray about, then. Would that be ok?” he asked. You nodded, and he took your hands in his and bowed his head. You did the same, and he started to pray that God would give you the strength to communicate your needs and walk away from a relationship that was hurting you.

Once Reverend Hong was done praying, you looked up at him and smiled before you said, “Thank you.”

“No problem. Let me know how the conversation goes, and if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to come find me.”

“I appreciate that more than you know, Reverend. Have a blessed day.”

You left the sanctuary to look for Jihoon, and when you found him, he was laughing and talking with his best friend, Seokmin. Your boyfriend looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, and you almost felt guilty for interrupting his time with his friend. So, you waited for them to notice you instead of saying something. You didn’t have to wait long though, since shortly after you made your way over, Jihoon looked at you with a smile and said, “Hi, honey. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok. I just wanted to talk to people before we left.”

“Is everything ok? You look upset,” Seokmin asked.

You smiled at your boyfriend’s friend and said, “I’m ok, ‘Min. I just wanted to ask Reverend Hong to pray with me about something.”

Your boyfriend soured immediately at the mention of Reverend Hong and said, “I think we should go. Are you ready, honey?” You nodded, and he turned to his friend and said, “Bye, Seokmin.”

“Bye, guys!” Seokmin replied with a smile. You waved in response, and Jihoon practically dragged you out of the church and into his car.

Once you were in the car, Jihoon asked, “Why the hell did you go to Reverend Hong for advice and not me?”

“I was asking him for advice because there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about, but I didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

“What is it?”

With a sigh, you answered, “The way you treat me hurts a lot. It’s like you only love me when I’m acting the way that you want me to.”

Jihoon was quiet for a minute before he answered, “That’s not true.”

“Then I wish you wouldn’t act like it,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Then I wish you wouldn’t act like it,” you repeated, slightly louder this time.

“How do I act like it?”

“I try to kiss your cheek, and you move away from me. I tell you that I love you, and you’re silent in response. You tell me what to do, what to say, and how to act, and if I don’t meet those standards, it’s like I’m nothing to you. I love you, but I’m tired.”

“And you chose to handle those feelings by going to someone else first and then telling me that there was a problem?”

“Jihoon, what is with you? I asked someone that I respect for advice because I wanted this conversation to be productive.”

“Do you respect him more than you respect me?”

With a sigh, you answered, “No.”

“Then don’t act like you do.”

“You know what? I’m just gonna say it. I’m done. We’re over.”

“Really? Because I’m not doing exactly what you want? In a true Biblical relationship, the-”

“Jihoon, I don’t want to hear it. We’re done.”

Just as you said the words, Jihoon arrived at your apartment. So, you got out of his car, went inside, and immediately blocked his number. Then, you curled up in a ball on your couch and cried. Sure, you knew that your relationship with Jihoon was long over by the time you actually talked to him, but the realization that he would never love you the way you used to love him was still painful.

The following Sunday, you arrived at church alone and once again approached Reverend Hong before service finding your seat. When he saw you, he smiled and said, “Hi! How are you doing today?”

You felt like you were about to break down in tears, but you still forced a half smile and said, “I’m doing ok. Thank you for asking, Reverend. Would it be alright to speak with you again after service today?”

“Of course. Is it related to what we prayed about last week?”

You nodded and said, “The conversation didn’t go as well as I would have hoped.”

Reverend Hong put his hand on your shoulder and said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m happy to help however you need me to.”

“Thank you. I should go find my seat now, but I’ll see you after service.”

You quickly turned to find your seat, and the service began. You honestly didn’t pay attention through most of it, but you immediately perked up when Reverend Hong said, “Hello, everyone. I’d like to begin today’s sermon by speaking to the brokenhearted among us. In Psalm 34, verse 18, the Bible says, ‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ Trust me when I say that I know it can be difficult, but it’s important to remember that God is always with us, no matter how much pain we’re in. Trust Him and allow Him to carry your burdens.”

You started to tear up as he spoke, and you thought about what he said through the lens of your own recent experiences. You thought about how God had always gotten you through challenging times in your life, and you found peace in the knowledge that He could and would do it again. Sure, you were hurting, but you knew that you would heal. You always did.

When the service was over, you approached Reverend Hong and waited for him to finish talking to other members of the church that had gotten to him before you. As you waited, you couldn’t help but notice the kind way that he spoke to everyone that approached him and the gentle smile on his face as he answered questions and gave advice like it was his highest calling. When it was your turn, you moved closer to him and said, “Hello, Reverend. Thank you for speaking with me today.”

“You’re welcome. How did everything go? Did you talk to your boyfriend?”

“Yes, and we broke up,” you answered, fighting back tears as you spoke.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Would you like to pray together?” he asked. You nodded, and he took your hands in his before he prayed for God to guide you in your healing journey and send you someone that would treat you with love and respect when the time was right, if that was what you wanted. After he ended the prayer, he let go of your hands and looked at you before he said, “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m happy to help you in whatever way I can.”

“Thank you, Reverend. That means a lot to me.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you asked, “Would it be possible to speak about this more another time? There are some specific things that I’m struggling with, but I don’t want them to be overheard.”

“Of course. I’m free this Saturday if that works for you.”

“It does.”

After that, the two of you discussed a time to meet at his apartment and exchanged numbers. Then he texted you his address before he said, “I hope that you find the peace and healing that you need.”

“Thank you so much, Reverend. Have a wonderful day.”

After the conversation with Reverend Hong, you found that you already felt better about the end of your relationship with Jihoon. Sure, you still sort of missed him, but you knew that in the end, everything would be ok. After all, when you left the church and got back to your apartment, you felt noticeably lighter, and you silently thanked God for sending Reverend Hong to your church.

As the week went by, you realized that you were more nervous than you thought you would be to actually go to Reverend Hong’s house. Sure, you knew that he just wanted to help you, but you couldn’t shake the anxiety that bubbled up if you thought about the meeting for too long. It was strange, really. You never felt nervous to see or speak to him at church. But, in the end, you chalked your nerves up to the anxiety that always comes with visiting someone’s home for the first time and decided to ignore it as much as you could.

When Saturday finally arrived, you felt more nervous than you’d been all week. Despite your anxiety, however, you tried to be hopeful that talking to Reverend Hong would help you feel better. After all, it was nice to have someone in your corner.

When you were ready to leave, you put the address that Reverend Hong had given you the previous Sunday into your phone’s GPS and drove to his apartment. Once you arrived, you softly knocked on the door, and he opened it with a smile before he said, “Hi. How are you doing today?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure, Reverend. How are you?”

“Please, there’s no need to be so formal when we’re not at the church. Call me Joshua.” There was a brief awkward silence before he said, “Come on in,” and moved out of the doorway.

When you walked into Joshua’s apartment, you couldn’t help but notice how cozy everything was. Bookshelves filled with different versions of the Bible as well as various comic books and novels that you didn’t recognize lined the living room. The couch looked soft and inviting, the deep brown color reminding you of coffee. Everything about it made you feel at home.

You were so distracted by your admiration of Joshua’s space that you didn’t realize he was speaking until he tapped your shoulder and asked, “Is everything ok?”

You jumped at the sudden contact and answered, “I’m fine. I was just admiring the way you’ve decorated. The whole place feels so cozy and inviting.”

“Thank you. Would you like to sit?” You nodded, and he led you to the couch before he added, “So, what’s been going on?”

With a sigh, you answered, “I just don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, every relationship I’ve ever had has gone downhill at some point. When I was in high school, it was usually because I wasn’t interested in… certain activities,” you replied, hesitating when you remembered the boys you’d casually dated in high school. “Then, I started seeing Jihoon about a year and a half ago, and everything was perfect. At least, it was for the first few months.”

“What happened with Jihoon?”

With a sigh, you explained every detail of your relationship that you had hesitated to tell him before. You started with how sweet he was when the two of you first started dating and ended with how he didn’t even treat you like a friend anymore after a while, much less his girlfriend. But you noticed Joshua’s expression shifting as you spoke, so you stopped yourself to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overshare.”

“No, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that. Especially from someone that claimed to love you.”

“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong. I think the only thing ‘wrong’ is your taste in men,” he said with a laugh.

You sighed and responded, “I guess you’re right. I don’t know what to do about that, though.”

“Well, we could start by praying, if you’d like.”

You smiled softly and said, “That sounds lovely.”

With that, Joshua took your hands in his and prayed that God would guide you in the right direction and help you find a man that would treat you with love and respect, if you wanted a relationship. Once the prayer ended, he turned to you and asked, “Do you feel better?”

You nodded and said, “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. It’s my job as a pastor to provide support when someone in my congregation needs it.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t show appreciation.”

“I guess you’re right,” he said with a gentle smile. After a brief silence, he added, “I could also give you a few Bible verses that I think would help you, if you’d like.”

“I’d love that.”

“Wait here.”

You were puzzled when Joshua stood up and left the room, but when he came back with 2 small pieces of paper and a pen, you realized he was probably writing down the verses for you. Your guess was confirmed when you saw him pull one of the many Bibles that he owned off of a bookshelf and open it to a seemingly random page. After that, he wrote something down, flipped to another page, and started writing again. After both verses were written down, he handed you both sheets of paper. You carefully took them from him, and when you looked at the first one, you saw the following written in the most elegant handwriting you’d ever seen:

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice, but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7”

You very carefully folded the first piece of paper and put it into your pocket before turning your attention to the second. The writing on the second piece of paper said:

“Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10”

You looked back up at Joshua, and he smiled before he said, “I thought that those two verses specifically would be good reminders of what to look for in a partner. Someone that truly treats you like they love you and helps you when you need someone to lean on is more valuable than gold, in my opinion.”

“Those are definitely good qualities to look for.”

There was a brief but comfortable silence before Joshua asked, “Would you like to stay for dinner tonight? I’m not having anything fancy, just leftovers from last night, but you seem like you could use the company.”

“Thank you. Dinner sounds wonderful.”

With that, Joshua stood up and left his living room to reheat dinner for the two of you. While you waited, you thought about the verses that you’d been given, and you did find some comfort when you felt the two small pieces of paper in your pocket.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Joshua’s voice asking, “Are you ready to eat?” You nodded, and he added, “Come with me,” gesturing for you to follow him into the dining room.

While the two of you ate together, you discussed your personal histories with your faith, and every minute only increased your respect for Joshua. He was clearly a man of God, and you were grateful that you had a leader like him in your community. As he shared the story of how he decided to go into ministry, you couldn’t help but get the slightest bit emotional.

Every minute of your conversation made you feel safer with Joshua. He seemed to hang onto every word as you told stories from your childhood and teenage years that solidified your faith in God, and after a conversation about your favorite stories from the Bible, he smiled and said, “You really know what you’re talking about.”

“Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

The two of you continued to talk well into the night, but eventually, you did have to leave. After all, you would need to be awake at a reasonable hour the next morning so that you could get ready for church. So, after you thanked Joshua for having you in his home, you drove back to your apartment, once again silently thanking God for sending a man like Joshua to your community.

For the next several months after that first visit, you and Joshua met regularly, either at your apartment or his, to read from the Bible together and discuss whatever the subject of his sermon was that Sunday. Sure, you didn’t necessarily need his advice on anything, but you enjoyed hearing his perspective, and having something besides church to look forward to on weekends really helped your mood.

As time went on, however, you found yourself struggling to pay attention during your discussions. Instead of thinking about the words that Joshua said, you found yourself thinking about the way his voice sounded and how attractive he looked when he was focused on finding a specific passage from the Bible. You spent more time than you wanted to admit thinking about how it would feel for him to kiss you, to hold you, and to take you to places you’d never been before.

You knew that it was wrong to think the way you did, especially about your pastor, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. So, you decided to pray. Every night, you begged God to help you figure out a way to get the inappropriate thoughts out of your mind, and every day, you realized that the answer to your prayer was a firm “no” for reasons you didn’t understand.

Since prayer didn’t help in the way that you’d hoped it would, you decided to try reading from your Bible more. Every day, you made time for personal Bible study, and while you were actively studying, you were able to focus on something other than the sinful thoughts of Joshua that plagued your every other waking moment. As soon as you were done, though, the thoughts would return, and you’d go right back to feeling hopeless and guilty.

Not knowing what else to do, you decided to call Joshua and ask him if you could come over the next time he wasn’t busy for some advice on a personal matter. He happily agreed, and you thanked him before you hung up the phone, ready to face the situation head-on.

The agreed-upon day finally came, and you felt like you were going to cry for the entire drive to Joshua’s apartment. Still, you knew that you had to go. After all, you couldn’t get the advice that you needed from him if you didn’t ask in the first place. So, with a deep breath, you knocked on the door. A few seconds later, he opened the door and smiled before he said, “Lovely to see you! How are you today?”

“I’ve been better. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Joshua stepped out of the way long enough for you to step into his apartment, and once you were inside and the door was shut, he asked, “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

“Before I actually tell you what’s going on, I just want to say that I am so, so sorry.”

“Listen to me. Whatever it is, I’m here to provide support and guidance,” he said as he took a seat on his couch and patted the spot next to him. “Now, what’s troubling you?”

You sat on the couch next to him, and your heart started to race. Whether it was due to attraction or anxiety, you had no idea. Still, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down before you looked at him and said, “I’ve been struggling with inappropriate thoughts lately.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Why are you apologizing to me?”

You really wanted to leave and never face Joshua again, but you’d come too far to go back. So, with another deep breath, you added, “They’re about you.” His eyes widened at your admission, and you said, “I’m sorry, I know that it’s-”

Joshua softened when he heard your apology and said, “Sweetheart, listen to me. Ok?” The pet name took you by surprise, but you still nodded, and he continued, “There is nothing wrong with the way you feel. It’s normal to think that way about someone.”

Quietly, you asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all. Can I admit something to you too?”

“What is it?”

“I think about you the same way.”

“Really?”

“Of course, sweetpea. How could I not?”

“I don’t know. I just felt bad about thinking about you in that way. Especially because the thoughts usually happen during our Bible studies.”

“My dear, there’s nothing to feel bad about. If God didn’t want us to feel attracted to people, He wouldn’t have given us the ability to feel attraction in the first place. It’s ok.”

You relaxed significantly when Joshua reassured you and said, “Thank you for not judging me or telling me that I’m wrong.”

“I’ll never judge you, sweetheart,” Joshua said as he placed his hand on your shoulder. You opened your mouth to say something in response, but in the end, you decided against it. He must have noticed because he added, “What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking about kissing you again,” you mumbled.

“Again?” Joshua asked, clearly enjoying how embarrassed you felt.

You nodded and quietly answered, “I daydream about it sometimes.”

“Well, why don’t we make those daydreams a reality?”

You nodded, and he leaned closer to you. You leaned in too, and before you knew it, your lips met his. The kiss was soft at first, with neither of you sure how far you should go, but in a matter of minutes, the air in the room shifted. The way he kissed you started to feel hungry, for lack of a better way to describe it. You knew that you probably should have been ashamed of the way you felt as he kissed you, but you weren’t. Instead, all you could think about was how good his lips felt against yours and how badly you wanted the moment to last forever.

At some point, Joshua pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. As you caught your breath, he looked at you with something you couldn’t quite identify in his eyes and asked, “Can we try something, angel?”

“What is it?”

“Sit on my lap.”

You hesitantly did as you were told, and you felt something unfamiliar rubbing against you. You weren’t upset, though, and based on the sigh that slipped from Joshua’s mouth as you settled into a comfortable position on top of him, he wasn’t either.

Once you were settled, he looked up at you and asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then will you let me help you?”

“What do you mean? I thought that you said that it’s normal to feel this way.”

“It absolutely is normal, sweetheart. I just meant that I could help you get some relief if you’d like.”

You thought about what he said for a moment before you said, “Ok.”

Joshua smiled at you and placed his hands on your hips. Then, he asked, “Are you sure that you want to do this?”

With a sigh, you nodded and said, “I’m sure. I trust you.”

“Then can you start moving your hips for me?”

You slowly started to move back and forth, with Joshua’s hands on your hips guiding you and setting a slow but steady pace. The feeling between your legs as you moved was unfamiliar, but you loved it. It was a kind of pleasure that you’d never experienced before, and as you started to lose yourself in that pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if Joshua would help you experience it again.

Shortly after you started, a soft moan slipped out of your mouth, and you abruptly stopped and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize. It’s ok. I promise. It felt good, right?” You nodded, and he said, “Keep going, sweetpea. I wanna hear more of those sweet little sounds.”

Hesitantly, you did as you were told. In a matter of minutes, though, your hesitation melted away, and the only thing left was pleasure. As you rocked your hips back and forth, Joshua bucked his hips up to meet yours, groaning softly and whispering soft praises into your ear.

“You look so pretty on top of me, angel,” he said with a sigh. “I wish you could see just how beautiful you are.”

You wanted to be embarrassed by the way your body reacted to his words, but you didn’t care nearly enough about what you should have been feeling to be ashamed. All you cared about was how good Joshua made you feel and how happy you were that he thought about you the same way you thought about him. You were also more relieved than you could put into words that he didn’t think that you were wrong for thinking about him that way like you’d expected him to.

As you continued to rock your hips back and forth, an unfamiliar feeling started to build in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to ask Joshua what the feeling was and what to do about it, but before you could get the words out, your whole body tensed as a wave of unbelievable pleasure washed over you, loud moans falling from your lips as you lost yourself in the feeling.

As you caught your breath, you found yourself thinking about just how badly you wanted to do the things that you just did again and again. The desire that had taken center stage in your mind was still pretty new to you, and you were certain that if you were of a clearer mind you’d be ashamed of yourself, but you already found yourself addicted to the pleasure that Joshua gave you.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Joshua said, “Hey, stay with me, baby. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok. I was just thinking.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I really wanna do that again.”

With a soft smile, Joshua cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again. Without meaning to, you started to move your hips back and forth again, and he pulled away just long enough to say, “Calm down, sweetheart. Plenty of time for more of that later. But first, there’s something else that I’d like to try. Would that be ok?” You nodded, and he added, “I want you to get on your knees for me, angel.”

You scrambled to follow his instructions before you looked up at him and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, how do you feel about sucking my cock?”

Suddenly feeling shy, you looked down and mumbled, “I’ve never done that before.”

“I know, dove. That’s why I’m going to teach you how, as long as you want me to.” You hesitated to respond to that, though, so he placed his hand under your chin and lifted your face so that the two of you were making eye contact again before he asked, “Do you want me to?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you sure, dove? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

With a deep breath, you answered, “I’m sure. I want to do this with you. I trust you.”

“Promise me that you’d tell me if you didn’t want it.”

“I promise.”

“Good girl.”

Joshua’s words and the sweet way that he said them made you feel giddy in a way that you weren’t used to, and it made you want nothing more than to make him happy. Sure, you were nervous, but you meant it when you said that you trusted him, so you were happy to do whatever he asked, especially if you could make him feel the way that he’d made you feel.

With a loving smile on his face, he gestured to his pants and said, “Go ahead and unbutton these, dove.”

You did as you were told, and he stood up to fully remove the pesky clothing. When you finally saw him bare from the waist down, you were hit with a fresh wave of nervousness, but the same desire that had gotten you to this point was what helped you move past it. With a flirty smile, you looked up at Joshua again and asked, “What should I do now?”

“Just slowly take it into your mouth, angel.” Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, and he added, “Good girl. Now slowly move your head up and down.”

You happily did as you were told, wanting nothing more in that moment than to please Joshua. As you bobbed your head, you found yourself struggling to not gag, but you were willing to fight the feeling for as long as you could. Especially with the sweet moans and grunts that fell from Joshua’s lips as he told you how good your lips felt around him.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. You’re doing so good for me,” he groaned as he started to gently thrust into your mouth.

Of course, as soon as you started to wonder what else was going to happen, Joshua groaned and said, “I’m close, dove.”

You briefly considered stopping and asking Joshua what to do, but before you could, he grabbed your head and held you in place while a warm, slightly bitter fluid filled your mouth, and a series of loud moans and curses fell from his. Once you were sure that it had stopped, you looked up at him as if to ask what to do next. Noticing the confusion on your face, he took a deep breath and said, “Swallow it, baby.”

You once again did what you were told, took a series of deep breaths, and said, “That was fun.”

After Joshua caught his breath, he carefully helped you up and said, “Come here, angel.” Once you were standing again, he immediately pulled you into a hug and added, “Can I admit something else?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I really want more than this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I want more from this, from you, than just ‘finding relief.’ I want an actual relationship with you.”

You lit up at his words and asked, “You do?”

“Of course I do, baby. I wouldn’t have done those things with you if I didn’t want something more.”

You were quiet for a minute before you asked, “Does this mean that we’re together now?”

“Only if you want it to.”

“I really do.”

“Then yes, it does.”

You smiled and kissed him again, elated that your discussion with him had gone better than you ever could have hoped. When you pulled away, you smiled and said, “Today has been a lot of fun.”

“I’m happy to hear that, angel.” There was a moment of silence before Joshua added, “Are you feeling ok? Regarding everything that we did earlier, I mean.”

You nodded and said, “I was definitely nervous, but I loved every second of it. Honestly, I kind of want to do it again.”

Joshua laughed softly before he responded, “As fun as that sounds, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” You pouted, and he added, “I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed, dove.”

You were still disappointed, but you understood. So, you said, “Ok. Thank you for looking out for me,” and pulled him into a hug.

“I’ll always look out for you, sweetheart.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you asked, “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course, baby,” he answered. “Do you wanna stay here and sit on the couch or go lie in bed?”

You hesitated before you responded, “Bed?”

“Ok. Come with me.”

Joshua let go of you briefly, and you opened your mouth to complain, but you changed your mind when he took your hand to lead you to his bedroom. With a smile, you said, “Your room looks so cozy.”

“Thanks,” he responded with a shy smile before lying down on his bed. Once he was settled, he reached his arm out to pull you into bed with him, and you laughed as you landed next to him. When he turned to see you staring at him with a gentle smile on your face, still laughing softly, the thought entered his mind that your laughter was even more beautiful than your moans, if that was even possible.

With his own dopey grin, he said, “Come here, baby,” and held his arms out to you. You moved closer, and he wrapped his arms around you while you put your head on his chest. Once you were settled, he asked, “Is this what you wanted, dove?”

You nodded and said, “This is nice.”

“Good. That was the goal.”

While you relaxed in Joshua’s arms, the two of you talked and got to know each other better. While you talked, you found yourself feeling tired, and you knew that you would probably need to go home soon. Almost immediately after you had that thought, however, you fell asleep.

The next morning, you panicked when you noticed that there was another person in your bed. You briefly relaxed when you rolled over and realized that you were lying next to Joshua, but once you started to remember the events of the day before, you panicked all over again. You rushed to get out of bed, but before you could get very far, Joshua pulled you closer before he said, “Just five more minutes, baby. Please?”

“But I need to go. I-”

“Where do you have to go?”

You hesitated before you answered, “Well, nowhere today, but I’ve never-”

Joshua could tell that you were stressed, so he started to rub your back and said, “Baby, it’s ok. Deep breaths, ok?”

You did what he asked before you said, “I’ve never spent the night at a boyfriend’s place before. I swear that I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“Angel, there is nothing to apologize for. I kind of figured that you didn’t mean to fall asleep. It was cute, though.”

Surprised by the compliment, you asked, “Really?”

“Of course. Everything you do is cute.”

You pouted in response to the compliment and responded, “Well you’re cuter.”

“Do you really wanna play that game with me, baby?” You went quiet after that, and he laughed softly before he added, “I love you.”

You were surprised that Joshua said that he loved you so soon, but you couldn’t really say that you were upset. After all, the way you felt about Joshua was already so much more intense than anything you’d ever felt for another person before. So, you reached out to play with his hair as you said, “I love you too.”

A few weeks after you and Joshua made your relationship official, the two of you planned for him to show up at your apartment early so that the two of you could spend some extra time together before he had to be at the church. So, you got up early and got ready, daydreaming about what you wanted to do with him while you waited for him to arrive.

Initially, you struggled to decide on an outfit, but in the end, you settled on a soft pink dress and matching flats that you found in the bottom of your closet. Once you were dressed, you admired yourself in the mirror until you heard a knock on the door.

“Hi, baby,” you said as you opened the door.

Joshua stared at you with what you could only describe as awe as he said, “Hi, angel. You look gorgeous today. Is that the dress you’re wearing to church?”

“Yep! Do you like it?” you asked, twirling to show it off.

“I really do, dove.”

With a smile, you moved out of the way so that Joshua could come in and asked, “Is there anything specific you wanna do to pass the time?” You had a few ideas when you saw Joshua all dressed up, but you weren’t sure how to ask for what you wanted. So, you stayed quiet, at least at first.

“I am too. What do you wanna do until we have to leave?”

“I’m not sure. Do you have any ideas?”

“I was thinking about a few things earlier, but I don’t want to do too much right before we have to leave.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

“This,” he answered before he pulled you as close as he possibly could and kissed you. You melted into his touch, and you were so distracted by the way his lips felt on yours, you almost didn’t notice his hand moving from your waist down to your ass. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t squeezed softly, earning a gasp from you. With a soft smile, he pulled away slightly and said, “You’re so cute.”

You didn’t respond at first, but after you took a few deep breaths, you collected yourself enough to mumble, “I really liked that.”

“Oh, really?” he asked. You nodded, and he chuckled and said, “You’re so cute, dove.”

Without thinking about it, you asked, “Can I touch you?”

“Maybe later, baby,” he answered, surprised by the question. You pouted, and he added, “I just don’t want you overwhelmed before church. Besides, I don’t know if we have time for that before we have to leave.”

“What about after?”

“We’ll talk after.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

A few minutes later, the two of you left for church, and Joshua’s hand was on your thigh for the entire ride. You definitely weren’t complaining, though. You loved the way his hand felt as he carefully moved it back and forth, and you liked how intimate the seemingly insignificant gesture felt. The only problem was that you kept getting distracted by thoughts of him touching you somewhere else.

You were so lost in your thoughts of the things that you wanted to do after church, you didn’t even notice that you had arrived until Joshua moved his hand from your thigh and asked, “Are you ready to go in, angel?”

“I guess,” you answered, the disinterest in your voice apparent.

“What’s wrong, sweetpea?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just kinda don’t wanna do this today.”

“I understand, baby. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have picked you up if I’d known.”

“I didn’t say anything because I still wanted to see you. I just don’t wanna sit through service today.”

“I really wish you’d said something. I could’ve figured something else out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for, dove. Just tell me next time, ok?” You nodded in response, and he added, “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?”

“Just a second. Can I ask you something, dove?”

“Of course.

“You seem a bit distracted,” Joshua said. “Is there something on your mind?”

You hesitated for a minute before you answered, “I’d rather be doing something else right now.”

“I have a feeling I know what it is that you want to do, but I still wanna hear you say it. So, what would you rather be doing right now?”

“Touching you.”

“Maybe after service, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Now, are you ready to go inside?” he asked. You nodded, and he said, “Ok, then let’s go.”

You and Joshua got out of his car and walked into the church, where everyone was happy to see both of you. It was kind of funny, really. No one cared to even say hello to you for most of the time you’d attended that church, but now that you were dating the pastor, you could hardly walk two steps without someone stopping you to say hello and ask how you were doing. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the conversation, since you loved interacting with people, but that day, you were just so tired and really didn’t want to be there.

Joshua definitely noticed that you weren’t feeling well, and he tried to draw attention away from you wherever he could. To someone on the outside looking in, he would have seemed jealous and self-centered, whisking everyone that so much as said hello to you away and dominating the conversation. You knew better, though. In between greeting members of the congregation, he made sure to check in on you, something you greatly appreciated. He didn’t verbally ask you if you were ok, but he didn’t need to. All he had to do was take one good look at you, and he could gauge how you were feeling, at least when it came to your social battery.

By the time the service was actually ready to start, you were noticeably more relaxed. You were smiling more, your responses to questions and greetings were much less blunt, and you were more involved with conversations. As you and Joshua walked to your seats at the front of the church, you squeezed his hand, a silent expression of gratitude for looking out for you. He squeezed your hand again in response, a quiet acknowledgement that he understood.

The service itself was incredibly dull. Even Joshua’s sermon, which was about having healthy relationships as Christians, did nothing to keep you from getting bored as you waited for the socially acceptable time to leave to finally arrive. No one in the church would be able to tell that you were bored, though, except maybe Joshua, but only because you’d told him before service. As far as the rest of the congregation knew, you were the same good girl you’d always been, listening eagerly to the things that your pastor said.

When service finally ended, you immediately found Joshua, hoping to leave with him as quickly as possible. Of course, before you could go home, though, there were a number of people that wanted to speak with your boyfriend, either because they wanted to share their thoughts on the sermon or because they had a personal matter that they wanted guidance on. You wanted to be annoyed by the series of delays, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. After all, he took such care to address every question and concern with nothing but love, reassuring everyone that he spoke to and praying with them if they asked. Even the handful of children that approached him were treated with respect and dignity, like Joshua viewed their questions as just as important as the questions the adults in the congregation had.

Every moment watching Joshua interact with the people in your community made you fall more in love with him.

You were so lost in your thoughts; you almost didn’t notice that Joshua was calling your name. Once you snapped back to reality, you turned to face him with a smile, and he asked, “Are you ready to go?” You nodded, and he took your hand to lead you back to his car.

The ride home was mostly silent, with both of you too tired to fill the empty space around you with conversation. Joshua’s hand still rested comfortably on your thigh, however, and the seemingly small gesture did help you relax.

When Joshua pulled up to your apartment, you broke the comfortable silence that had formed during the ride and asked, “Would you like to stay for a bit?”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and answered, “I’d really like some more time with you before you have to go home.”

“I think that sounds great, angel.”

With that, you and Joshua walked into your apartment together. The moment your front door was shut, you pulled him into a tight hug and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After he let go, you led Joshua to your couch, sat down, and asked, “What do you wanna do?” You hoped you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt, but considering how good Joshua already was at reading you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he could tell.

Joshua pretended to think for a minute before he said, “I think you should pick what we do, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and said, “I’m sure. What do you wanna do?”

You didn’t answer him verbally. Instead, you leaned closer and kissed him with everything you had. A soft noise of surprise left his mouth, but he relaxed pretty much immediately, tangling his hands in your hair as he deepened the kiss. A soft moan left your mouth, and you pulled away from him just enough to say, “I want you.”

“Oh really? What do you want from me, baby?” he asked, the teasing tone in his voice turning you on even more.

“Want you to touch me. Please?”

“How?”

“However you want. Just, please?”

“Patience, sweetheart. Do you want to do something we’ve already done, or do you want to do something different?” You mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, so he said, “Speak up, love. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“Wanna try something different.”

“What do you wanna try?” You were quiet after that, so he added, “Do you want my fingers? Do you want my tongue? Do you want my cock?”

A soft whine slipped out before you whispered, “The last one.”

“Oh really, baby?” he asked. You nodded, and he gently placed his hand under your chin, lifting your head to make eye contact with him as he asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Baby, I’m being serious here. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I know. I’m sure. I trust you.”

Joshua was amazed by how much you trusted him already.

“As long as you’re sure. If you change your mind at any point, though, I need you to tell me. Ok, angel?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good girl,” he replied before he kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, if that was even possible. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whined softly, and he asked, “Should we take this to your room, baby?” You nodded, and he laughed softly before he said, “Use your words, dove.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you mumbled.

“Then lead the way, darling.”

You hesitantly took Joshua’s hand and led him to your bedroom. Once you were there, though, and Joshua’s lips found their way to your neck, any lingering hesitation was completely replaced by arousal. Soft moans slipped out of your mouth as he kissed and bit every inch of you he could comfortably reach, and once the desire that coursed through your veins was too much to bear, you whined, “Please do something.”

“I am doing something, sweetpea,” he teased.

“Want more,” you begged.

Joshua pretended to contemplate his options for a moment before he said, “Alright, baby. Can you take your clothes off for me?”

You nodded and did what you were asked, because of course you did. You were more turned on than you ever thought possible in that moment, and all you wanted was to make the man that you loved happy.

 Once you were standing in front of him, naked and desperate, you mumbled, "Want you."

"I know, baby," Joshua replied as he rid himself of his own clothing. "Lie down on the bed."

You scrambled to follow his instructions, and once you were comfortable, he carefully climbed on top of you. When he was sure that you were ready, he slowly entered you.

To say the feeling of Joshua's cock inside of you was jarring would have been a vast understatement. Still, you didn't exactly dislike the feeling, especially once he started thrusting.

Joshua started out slowly at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, which you appreciated. Sure, you’d had a vague idea of how sex worked before you met Joshua, but you had no idea how it was supposed to feel, really. Now that you were actually experiencing it, you couldn’t help but think that Joshua’s cock inside you was one of your favorite feelings in the world.

 Soft whines slipped out as the pleasure started to build, and Joshua kissed you before he said, “You feel so good, baby. Knew you would.”

“Want more,” you pleaded.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked as he stopped his thrusts.

“Don’t know,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “Just know I want more.”

“Aww, poor baby,” he said, laughing when you pouted. “Don’t worry, sweetpea. I’ll give you everything you want and more, I promise.”

 With that, he started thrusting again, and the room was mostly silent as both of you got lost in how good you felt. When Joshua started to pick up the pace, though? You could barely contain the sounds that started to increase in volume and pitch.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Joshua said with a loud groan. “I’m gonna fucking marry you one day, I swear.”

You moaned loudly and choked out, “Please,” too lost in how he felt inside you to fully process what he was saying.

Joshua fucked into you harder as he said, “Can’t wait for you to be my gorgeous little wife. Maybe one day I’ll give you a baby too. How does that sound, angel?”

“Please. Want it so bad. Love you so much,” you whined, clenching around him.

“I love you too, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”

Before you could say another word, Joshua pulled out of you, cum hitting your stomach as he moaned your name. Without really meaning to, you whined at the loss, and he chucked softly, admiring you as he caught his breath.

“I have an idea,” Joshua said as he climbed off of you and sat on your bed. “Can you sit on my lap, angel?”

You nodded as you followed his instructions, and once you were comfortable, you asked, “Like this?”

Joshua shook his head and carefully moved you so that you were straddling one of his thighs before he asked, “Do you remember what we did a few weeks ago?”

“Yes? I think so. When I was on your lap?”

“Yes, exactly. Do you wanna do that again?” he asked. You nodded, and he said, “Go ahead, my darling.”

With no further hesitation, you started to move back and forth, with Joshua placing his hands on your hips to guide you. Every moment sent sparks of pleasure through you, and you knew that you weren’t gonna last much longer.

Almost right on cue, the now familiar heat in the pit of your stomach started to build, and you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. You tried to warn Joshua, but before you could, you came undone on top of him, holding onto the man you loved while pleasure coursed through your veins.

After you caught your breath, you carefully climbed off of Joshua, and he helped you clean up and put fresh clothes on. Then, once you were both dressed and comfortable again, you quietly asked, “Do you wanna stay the night?”

“Are you sure, baby? I don’t want to upset you again.”

“It’s ok, really,” you said. “I was just embarrassed last time." There was a brief silence before you mumbled, "I want you to stay."

 "Ok, then I'll stay."

"Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, dove."

 With that, the two of you left the bedroom, going to the kitchen to cook an early dinner together. After you finished eating, he helped you clean the kitchen, and the two of you spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s presence.

After your first time with Joshua, you felt like a completely different person. Not a bad kind of different, but different nonetheless. Before you met him, you never would have even considered sex before getting married. But when you were with Joshua, it was almost like you didn’t care anymore. You trusted him more than you’d ever trusted another person before, and that meant you were more than willing to test your limits when you were with him, even if you’d been told your whole life that the things you did together were sinful.

A few months into your relationship, you and Joshua found yourselves testing your limits once again at a church potluck. For the most part, everything was normal, with everyone in the congregation chatting about Joshua’s sermon earlier that morning while they enjoyed good food and good company. You enjoyed the sunny afternoon by sitting at a table outside of the church along with Joshua and a few of your mutual friends, and no one had a care in the world until you heard a disappointingly familiar voice ask, “How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing fine, Jihoon,” you answered halfheartedly as you turned toward the source of the voice.

“Do you have a few minutes to talk privately?” Jihoon asked, the nervousness he was feeling evident both in his voice and the look on his face.

“Is everything alright, Jihoon?” Joshua asked, visibly annoyed by your ex’s presence at your table.

“Everything is fine, Reverend. I just wanted to speak to her alone,” your ex answered, emphasizing the last word as he answered.

Joshua reached out and gently took your hand as he said, “I don’t believe that’s necessary.” It was a subtle gesture, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Jihoon. Or by you, for that matter. Whether it was the way he touched you with such care or the hint of frustration in his voice, or some combination of the two, you didn’t know. All you knew was that a feeling started to build in the pit of your stomach that was wildly inappropriate for where you were. Though, you had a feeling that Joshua would've loved it if you'd told him.

“Forgive me, Reverend, but I think that she should have the final say. Don’t you?” Jihoon asked before turning to look at you expectantly.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about, Jihoon,” you responded flatly. “It was nice to see you.”

Jihoon sighed and said, “It was nice to see you too,” giving you a halfhearted smile as he struggled to hide the frustration and disappointment that had replaced the nervousness he felt when he approached you. He still left you alone after that, though, which you were more grateful for than you could put into words.

Joshua, however, was clearly still angry, even after Jihoon walked away. So, you tried your best to distract him with silly conversations and plenty of touches that certainly toed the line of appropriateness but didn’t cross it obviously enough for the two of you to get in trouble. At first, you worried that you were pushing too far, but when you watched Joshua struggle to maintain his composure as you laughed at one of his jokes, you knew you had him right where he wanted you.

A few minutes after Jihoon walked away, Yewon, youth pastor Kwon’s wife, approached your table and asked, “Reverend Hong, is there another pack of paper plates somewhere? We’re getting low.”

“There should be some in the supply closet near the restrooms,” Joshua answered. “Would you like me to go get them?”

“Are you sure?” Yewon asked.

“Of course,” Joshua answered before he turned to you and asked, “Would you mind helping me look for them, my love?”

“Not at all,” you answered, happy to help your boyfriend.

“Thank you so much,” Yewon said before she walked away.

With a mischievous smile on his face, Joshua took your hand and said, “Let’s go get those plates.” That was when you started to get a feeling that something more would happen, but you weren’t sure if that was because of how he was acting or how badly you wanted him in that moment. Regardless of the reason, you stood up and let Joshua lead you into the church.

Once you found your way to the supply closet that Joshua had mentioned, he entered the cramped storage room, pulled you in behind him, and shut and locked the door. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, his lips were on yours.

You melted into the kiss with a sigh, and Joshua wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. A soft whine slipped out as he deepened the kiss, and he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes and say, “You need to be quiet, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone to hear us doing this, do we? Especially here of all places.” You shook your head, and he answered, “That’s what I thought.”

“Wait, are we-”

“Only if you want to.”

A million thoughts ran through your mind, but only two words came out of your mouth. “Why here?”

“Because I need you,” he answered, his voice laced with desperation.

“Won’t we get in trouble if we get caught?” you asked.

“Oh, definitely. But that just means that we need to try not to get caught.”

It would have been a lie to say that you weren’t nervous about the situation you’d found yourself in, but it also would have been a lie to say that you weren’t incredibly excited and turned on. Since meeting Joshua, you’d had all kinds of new experiences, and in your mind, this was just another opportunity to try something new with the man you loved.

“Baby, are you ok? Do you not want-”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure? You seemed hesitant.”

“I’m a little nervous about it if I'm being honest, but if you think that it'll be ok, I trust you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

 "All yours," you mumbled.

"Say it louder, sweetpea."

"I'm all yours," you said, this time with more conviction.

"Very good. Now, are you gonna keep being a good girl for me and take my cock?”

You nodded, and Joshua lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down. When you felt his tip brush against you, a soft whine slipped out of your mouth, and you heard him chuckle to himself.

"What did I say about being quiet, dove?"

"'m sorry, it just feels so good."

“I know, my darling, but we don’t wanna get caught, right?” he asked. You shook your head, and he added, “That’s what I thought.”

With a soft groan, Joshua slowly entered you. Sure, it wasn’t exactly your first time anymore, but  you still found yourself struggling to adjust to the sensation of his cock inside you. Once you were ready, however, he started to move, and you swore you could see stars.

You had no idea if it was the excitement of potentially getting caught, how hard Joshua fucked you, or some combination of the two, but regardless, it was more difficult to stay quiet than you expected. So difficult, in fact, that your lover put his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds that slipped out no matter how hard you tried.

“What did I tell you, dove?” Joshua asked. “It’s important to be quiet. Unless you want to get caught?” Something about the condescending tone in his voice turned you on more than you expected, and when you clenched around him, he laughed and asked, “Really, angel? You want someone to see us, don’t you?”

You wanted to shake your head or try to say something to indicate that you were trying to listen to what he said. But deep down, you knew that you didn’t care if someone opened that closet to see what the two of you were doing. The only things you cared about in the moment were Joshua’s cock inside you and the orgasm that hit you before you even realized you were close.

Seconds after you came down from your high, you felt Joshua come inside of you, holding you tight as he rode out his high. Then, once you both calmed down, Joshua carefully pulled out of you and helped you get dressed again. After putting his own clothes back on, he asked, “How about we actually grab those plates now?”

 After you found the plates, you went back to the picnic almost like nothing happened. There was one minor difference, however. Every time you noticed Jihoon staring at you and Joshua, you couldn’t help but feel smug, because you knew he could see how beautiful you felt now that you were with someone that loved you with no expectations.

Before you knew it, it was almost your one-year anniversary, and you could hardly contain your excitement. You'd spent weeks searching for the perfect gift for Joshua, but with each shopping trip, you worried more and more that you wouldn't find anything to accurately show him how much you loved him.

However, you got luckier than you expected at your local craft store. You had about 2 weeks left until your anniversary, and you were getting desperate. But after aimlessly wandering through the store for what felt like hours, you noticed a skein of yarn that was baby blue, his favorite color, right next to a display of cross-shaped beads, and inspiration struck.

When you got home, you grabbed your crochet hook and searched for patterns for a book sleeve online. Once you found one that you were happy with, you got to work making a sleeve for Joshua’s favorite Bible. It took multiple tries (and even more attempts at measuring the book when Joshua wasn’t looking) to get the size just right, but in the end, you were satisfied with the results. You'd spent days assembling the book sleeve and adding small decorations that you knew he’d like, such as a beaded cross on the front, and you were proud of yourself for finishing the project in time.

The morning of your anniversary, you called Joshua and invited him over before going through your favorite cookbook to look for a recipe to cook for dinner. Typically, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into dinner, but you thought your anniversary was a fitting day to put the extra effort in.

You started dinner about an hour before Joshua was set to arrive, daydreaming about what you wanted the future to look like while you waited to properly celebrate a year with the man you loved.

Right on time, Joshua knocked on the door, and when you opened it, you pulled him into your dining room and said, "Sit down. Dinner is almost ready."

"You didn't have to cook for me, baby."

"I know. I wanted to because it's a special occasion. I love you."

“Well, I appreciate it. I love you, sweetpea.”

The familiar pet name sent butterflies to your stomach, which made finishing dinner difficult, but you got there in the end. When it was done, you fixed two plates and brought them to the dining room table with a smile.

When you put Joshua’s plate in front of him, he said, “Thank you. This looks incredible.”

“Thank you, my love,” you said, feeling giddy as you set your own plate down. Before you actually started to eat, though, you looked up at Joshua and asked, “Actually, before we eat, can I give you your gift?"

"Yeah, of course.”

With that, you grabbed the bag that you’d left under the table and handed it to Joshua. When he opened it and looked at what was inside, he looked back at you and asked, “What is it?”

“It’s a protective sleeve for your Bible. I remembered what you said about how you wish you didn’t have to be so careful to keep it from getting dirty.”

With a soft smile, he said, “Thank you,” and gently placed the bag next to his chair. With that, the two of you ate dinner in almost complete silence, focused more on enjoying each other’s company than coming up with something interesting to say.

At the end of the meal, however, Joshua looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes and said, “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

Joshua didn’t respond to your question verbally at first, but he didn’t need to. You knew exactly what was happening when he stood from his chair and pulled a small box out of his pocket. With a soft smile and shaky hands, he looked up at you and said, “My darling, I love you more than I’ve ever loved another person before. Every minute with you has been a rollercoaster of new emotions and experiences, and while to many it may look like it’s too soon to say for sure, I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am that I never want to get off the ride. Will you marry me?”

You nodded in response, not trusting your ability to speak without crying as Joshua stood from his place on the floor and placed the ring on your finger. You admired the ring as the diamond sparkled in the light of your dining room, and Joshua looked at you with an excited grin on his face as he asked, “Does that mean you like it?”

“I love it, and I love you.”

“I love you too, angel. I always will.”

Joshua cupped your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that almost knocked you off your feet, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You lost yourself in the way his lips felt on yours shockingly quickly, so distracted that you almost didn’t notice his hand slowly making its way to your ass. What finally snapped you out of it was his hand squeezing gently, which caused a soft moan to tumble from your lips.

With a smirk on his face and mischief in his eyes, he pulled away and said, “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

“Maybe then you’ll finally keep that promise you made the first time we had sex,” you answered with a laugh.

“What promise?” he asked. You gave him a knowing smile, and that was when he remembered everything. With a shy laugh of his own, he said, “Maybe I will.”

“You’d better.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Thank you everyone for reading! If you liked this one, please make sure to like and reblog!

If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here! You can also send me an ask or dm at any time to be added or removed.

Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day!

[monstacheol]

𝓜𝔂 𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓮

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Fashion Designer! Hongjoong x Fashion Editor! afab! Reader

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: Fashion Industry AU | SFW (Part 1)

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Being the girlfriend of a high-fashion designer has its perks. But when you notice that Hongjoong is starting to feel off and a bit distant, you start to speculate. At first, you push it off, blaming it on long hours in the studio and the upcoming collection. However, when whispers begin to circulate about this "new muse" that has fueled his latest collection, doubt begins to creep in.

With the late night, the secrecy, and the way he looks at you, it makes you wonder. Was there something that he wasn't telling you?

𝓦𝓒: 13K

Part 1:

Boyfriend! Hongjoong | Reader speculating | Wooyoung as THE protective bestie | Crying (from the reader and maybe you, and you will see why) | Hongjoong being a man that will listen and will remember | Food and probably my poor knowledge and explication of wine and wine tasting (I did do research and I can be honest when I say I'm not really a wine drinker so it all depend and also I'm not expert on wine tasting either so I'm sorry)| fashion show | build-up to a smut

Part 2 (NSFW):

Soft Dom! Hongjoong | Sub! Reader | Body Worshipping |Oral (f. receiving) | unprotected sex (stay sex kids) | Praise kink | Dirty talk | Fingering | Multiple orgasms | Multiple positions | Heavy make-out | A bit of grinding | Mirror kink | Size kink | Pet name: YN: baby , Hongjoong: Joong

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @loppsyloo @n4migrl @r1zzimurariki8

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: Based on the post right here, it is finally out. It took forever due to being sleep deprived and me getting sick, mental health occassional burnout from work lately, I'm sure this fic suck. And I also had to rewrite this. Ugh. I did my best writing this as best I could. I hope you all like it now that you have the full-length version of it. Please like, comment, and reblog for support and improvement, and now, let's go. Also, part of it is not proofread. I'll do it later.

You always loved writing and fashion as a kid. You recall perusing magazines and marveling at how each cover told a story and how every piece of clothing had a distinct personality. There was something very captivating about them. How a simple, bold suit screams confidence, while a gown could just scream elegance and romance? You admire how journalists write about collections as if they were poetry. Oh, how they brought the clothes to life with their words, making you dream of, eventually, hopefully, doing the same, and that… you did. That’s what led you to become a journalist for one of the most prestigious fashion magazines, Auroa.

Working there, you experience life as if you lived in a fantasy, but you have no idea that dream would bring you Hongjoong, the top fashion designer himself, though he was quite skilled in all types of fashion, avant-garde was his type of art, and you like it. You were only meant to interview and admire his work, but-- somehow-- he found himself admiring you. It starts with one date that turns into another and another. Until you two started dating formally. That was two years ago.

Now here you are, sitting in a small café near Aurora, waiting for a friend. You checked the time on your phone; he was late. He said he was finishing up some last-minute stuff. Before your mind could wander off, you heard the chime of the café’s door, which interrupted your thoughts, and you saw him rushing over to you.

“Sorry. It seems like idiots don’t know how to manage a simple photo shoot,” he said with a sheepish grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s fine, Woo,” you respond, rejoicing that he made it as he hugged you before sitting down.

Wooyoung, your bestie, the one friend that stuck with you since college. Come to think of it, the first time you two met was when you ran into each other at a party. You weren’t a party girl, to say the least, and you had been trying to make friends since you were an incoming freshman in college. However, luck didn’t pan out that way, as you couldn’t find anyone to talk to. But luck brought you Wooyung that night. Turns out, he was running for something or someone that you had learned about that evening and bumped into you, nearly knocking your drink out of your hand.

Of course, he didn’t mean to and sincerely apologized. But that run-in turned into a complete friendship, as you both had much in common. After that, you became inseparable.

“Now that I’m here, how is my bestie?” Wooyoung asked with a warm smile.

You reply, “Your bestie is well and you?”

Wooyoung sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You know me. Tired, overworked, and unappreciated, but hey, what’s new?” He grins, taking a sip of coffee that he ordered. “Being a creative director isn’t an easy job, but it pays the bills.”

“You act like you hate it when you know you love the chaos,” you added, sipping your honey and lemon tea. And Wooyoung gasps, offended. “I do not love chaos. I just…happen to thrive in it,” he responds defensively.

You chuckle under your breath, rolling your eyes. “But no, really,” Wooyoung continued, his expression softening. “How have you been? How are you and Hongjoong? Is Mr. Designer treating my girl right”?

“Well…”’

Wooyoung was also one of the first people you introduced Hongjoong to and let’s just say it panned out…well.

Two years ago

It was a spring afternoon, and the café was filled with sweets and fresh coffee. Hongjoong sat in the corner, and Wooyoung sat across from him. Of course, Hongjoong appeared calm on the outside, but on the inside, he was nervous. And not only that but you were late.

You told Wooyoung about Hongjoong within the first week of dating and Woo, being the protective best friend that he is, had very high expectations. He saw you through your darkest. Experience every heartbreak and mistake. But when you told him that you were dating the most sought-after designer in the industry, he was a bit skeptical and wanted to see him for himself. So, there he was, sitting there, judging. Silent as ever, Wooyoung watched Hongjoong’s every move and expression. It wasn’t until Hongjoong spoke that the silence was broken.

“She’s running late,” Hongjoong said softly, his hand fidgeting on his lap.

“Yes. She’ll be here,” Wooyoung answered, calm and composed. “If I know her, she will be here soon.” Hongjoong didn’t answer but nodded, grabbing his mug. Wooyoung continued to glance at him, trying to figure him out as he leaned back into his seat. Him. This man. Dating his best friend. I mean, Hongjoong looks decent, dressed nicely and effortlessly chic but Wooyoung needs to know if Hongjoong loves his bestie the same way he does.

"So…," he started, making his voice casual. “You’re dating my bestie.”

Hongjoong clears his throat, putting down his mug as he answers and gives a nod, “Y-Yeah. I’m dating YN.”

Wooyoung nodded his head. “That’s a big title to take on, you know,” Wooyoung said, his gaze steady. Hongjoong, confused, tilted his head. “D-Dating?” Hongjoong asked, confused.

“My bestie,” Wooyoung answered. Hongjoong nodded his head in understanding and smiled lightly. “Yes, I know,” Hongjoong answered, tapping his finger on the mug.

Wooyoung leaned in, his eyes never left Hongjoong’s and commented, “So, you know that I don’t just allow anyone to date my bestie.” Hongjoong nodded his head. “I-I understand.”

“Good,” Wooyoung spoke, causing him to lean back into his seat. “She’s been with plenty of other assholes who can’t treat her right or dare to take advantage of her. And I’ll be damned if she gets hurt again.”

Hongjoong’s expression turned serious. His finger paused. “Yes, she told me. But don’t worry, I will never hurt her.”

“Well, I hope not,” Wooyoung shot back, his gaze never wavering. “Because if so, you will have to deal with me. And trust me.” He paused as he looked at him up and down. “I don’t make things easy for people who think they can hurt the ones I care about. Especially when it comes to her.”

Hongjoong nodded, meeting Wooyoung’s eyes with quiet determination. “I understand. I would never, besides,” Hongjoong started, and a smile started to form on his face.

"Y/N… She makes me feel happy and free. She’s different from anyone I’ve met before. She sees who I am, and I admire her kindness and strength. She’s my everything.”

Wooyoung sat silently, raising his brow in surprise at Hongjoong’s words and his sincere tone. He tried to detect dishonesty, but he could not detect any. “Damn,” Wooyoung muttered. “Didn’t expect a long monologue?”

It wasn’t until then that you appeared breathless and apologetic. You scanned around until Wooyoung waved his hand out, catching your attention. As you walked over, Hongjoong and Wooyoung saw you and stood up from his seat.

“I’m here. I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was just plain awful today,” you apologized. Hongjoong shakes his head and smiles. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it,” Hongjoong says reassuringly, embracing you in a hug and placing a kiss on your cheek, giving you a sense of relief and gratitude for understanding.

Wooyoung embraces you in a hug before going to your seat. And like the gentleman Hongjoong is, he pulled out your chair and held it for you before sitting back in his seat as all three of you sat down at the table. “I see you two have met each other,” you said.

“Ah yes,” Wooyoung answered. “We were getting acquainted with each other’s company.”

You could notice from Wooyoung’s tone that he wasn’t yet pleased with Hongjoong. You could still hear the hint of protectiveness hidden in his voice, as he remained wary of him. Waiting to see if Hongjoong would slip out of line, he couldn’t find anything and just knew there was something. Suddenly a barista brought a cup over and set it on the table in front of us. Hongjoong thanked her as she walked away.

“Here you go,” he replied as he slid the cup over to you. “I got you something sweet that I think you might like. I know you can’t drink anything with caffeine, so I hope you like it,” Hongjoong explained. Your smile softly appeared and said, “You remember?”

“Of course I did,” Hongjoong said. “I always pay attention.”

Hongjoong saw the expression on your face and smiled. Wooyoung, on the other hand, saw this and was completely in… “W-Wait, wait, wait.”

“Wait, you know she can’t drink caffeine?” Wooyoung pointed out. Hongjoong nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I remember. She said that caffeine makes her feel all jittery and upsets her stomach, so I asked the barista for something sweet.” Hongjoong added, referring to the drink in front of you.

You sipped the drink, and it was sweet. “Wow, that’s amazing,” you commented. Hongjoong, happy with your comment that you like the beverage he ordered for you, replied, “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of their seasonal drinks, and I saw it and thought you might like it.”

“I love it. Thank you for ordering it for me,” you replied with a smile. Hongjoong responded with a smile, and Wooyoung sat there, watching the interaction between you and Hongjoong, in shock and disbelief. Not even the fact that Hongjoong ordered you, but how he listened. Like really listen and remember. Even the past guys from before didn’t remember your favorite color, favorite drink or favorite season. EVEN YOUR BIRTHDAY. He blinked, momentarily lost in thought.

“Okay,” Wooyoung muttered.

Narrowing his eyes to Hongjoong and then to you. “I don’t like you even more,” he comments before crossing his arms. Causing you to laugh while Hongjoong looked on with a smile on his face.

Back to the present

“He’s fine.”

“Fine,” Wooyoung replied, raising his brow. “That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know. When I ask you, you always go, ‘He’s amazing,’ or ‘I love him so much I could burst,’ but now he’s fine,” Wooyoung pointed out.

“I mean, he is still amazing. It’s just been different lately.”

Wooyoung sat there, waiting to tell him everything. You know Hongjoong was always busy designing, traveling, and ensuring everything was in order. But lately he has been strange. You pushed it off at first and didn’t say much, but lately he has been distant.

“He’s just been in his studio a lot lately. Quite a bit more than usual. Some days, I rarely see him at home anymore. He will be locked inside his studio, sneakily chatting on the phone. It’s almost like… he’s hiding something from me.”

“Well, that’s not weird at all; have you noticed anything…else out of the ordinary?” Wooyoung questions.

You sat there and pondered, thinking back on the past few weeks, until you thought about that one day. “Well,” you start.

“He didn’t leave a note saying he’ll be at his studio tonight as usual. But he randomly asked me for my measurement. Something about that one of the models is my height and similar in size to me.”

“Well, I guess that seems rather suspicious. Maybe he needs them for a project he’s working on,” Wooyoung said with a shrug.

“But that’s not all,” you continued. “He asks me random questions about necklines…for dresses and then mysterious deliveries show up at the door. The studio door is always locked. And one night when I was asleep, I randomly heard his sewing machine running in the middle of the night, with the strange scent of perfume coming from there. It just makes me worry about what’s going on. And one day, when he was speaking on the phone, he kept saying, "She will love it.”

At first, you convinced yourself that it was nothing, that it was silly to jump to conclusions. But the smell. The smell of a soft, unfamiliar floral scent. Not even the usual notes from what you normally wear. Now you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Especially the mysterious person he mentioned. It just makes you wonder if…? No.

“You don’t think he's—"

The moment you said that, Wooyoung’s expression changed, and he quickly interrupted you. “Y/N L/N,” he said.  “Do you think he, Kim Hongjoong, the man who is madly and crazily in love with you, would do the thing—the very thing—you're thinking of?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just something in my mind that’s telling me that something is up, and… I don’t know what else I could—" “Let me tell you something,” Wooyoung stated in a serious and firm tone. “Hongjoong would never do that, and I only knew the man for two and a half years, so as much as I hate him—I mean, as much as I dislike him—he would never do that to you. I’ve seen the way that man looks at you, how he memorizes every quirk, every little habit and could put it all in a single stitch. Trust me, he would never.”

Sitting there as you looked down at your half-empty tea, letting his words settle within the silence of your own doubt. Even though you had all these thoughts and not all the right answers now, maybe… Maybe Wooyoung was right. Hongjoong, never do that. It’s just your insecurities speaking.

“You’re right, Woo. Maybe it’s just me overthinking things,” you said, trying to push off the uncertainty.

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right. Besides, who am I if not your handsome, amazing, hot, wise—did I also mention amazing and hot—overworked bestie?” Wooyoung says with a wink, leaning back in his chair as you roll your eyes at his comment and giggle.

“Okay. Okay, don’t push it. You’re impossible.”

“Face it, you love this chaotic mess. Don’t lie,” Wooyoung points out. And you do; you love in and the laugh you let out. The laugh that escaped wasn’t your carefree laugh but rather a softer one but hey, he would take that laugh any day if he could. “Trust me, love,” he said as he reached for your hand and held it.

“I’m here for you, whenever and wherever.”

His words made you smile softly as you held his hand. You replied with a thank you, and he returned a smile. He then cleared his throat and said, “Alright. Let’s hurry. Don’t want your editor to be mad at me for keeping you, although I would love to keep you the whole day. Want me to take you?”

You nodded your head, grabbing your belongings and standing up from your seat.

"Yeah. Let's go."

The office was busy with people walking around with freshly printed papers out of the printer. Others were present for meetings, debating over the mood board and the final concepts for the next issue of Aurora. Laughter was mixed in along with the sounds of coffee mugs and the hum of clatter as you sat quietly at your desk, thinking. Perhaps Woo is right. It was a stupid thought. There was no way he could do that to me. It was a ridiculous idea. Dumb idea. You shake your head, pushing that thought away from your mind and focusing on the task at hand while you type diligently on your desktop computer, working on the upcoming article for the Aurora. As you tapped away at your desktop, you heard sudden footsteps approaching you.

"Hey, LN," you hear.

You look up from your cubicle to see one of the senior fashion editors, Jae, holding a booklet in The office was busy with people walking around with the freshly printed papers out of the printer. Others were present at meetings, debating over the mood board and the final concepts for the next issue of Aurora. Laughter was mixed in along with the sounds of coffee mugs and the hum of clatter as you sat quietly at your desk, thinking. Perhaps Woo is right. It was a thought—a dumb, ridiculous, stupid thought. There was no way he could do that. You shake your head, pushing that thought away from your mind and focusing on the task at hand while you type diligently on your desktop computer, working on the upcoming article for the Aurora. As you tapped away at your desktop, you heard sudden footsteps approaching you.

“Hey, L/N,” you hear.

You look up from your cubicle to see one of the senior fashion editors, Jae, holding a booklet in his hand. He stood there, dressed neatly in tailored trousers, loafers, a crisp white shirt, and a navy blazer, with a lanyard hanging from his neck. “Yes,” you answered.

“This came from the editor-in-chief. She wants you to look over the editorial plans for the next release,” he spoke, handing the booklet off like it was the holy text.

“Oh,” you commented as you carefully took the booklet, just to see the clean, pristine cover of Aurora magazine. “Did she say why?

Jae merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just doing what I’m told. Make sure you proofread thoroughly and add any additional notes before sending it back up,” he answers before leaning in close. “She’s in one of her moods today,” he whispered, and you just sighed.

‘Oh no.’

“Did one of the interns forget her coffee order again?”

“Worse,” Jae whispered. “Someone has scheduled the wrong time for an important lunch meeting.”

“Was it Alex?” you inquired. Jae silently told you everything you need to know. And you groan in your hands. “Oh no,” you whine.

“Rumor has it, he is still hiding in the printing room,” Jae said with a smile.

Rookie mistake. Bad mistake. Your editor-in-chief, a lovely woman, you would like to say, with impeccable taste but a brilliant, scary woman she is. You never dare get on her ugly side, ever. You remember your internship days when you initially met her. One day, she asked you to pick up a coffee order and got it wrong. She didn’t yell at you—not in front of the whole staff and not physically. But that look? The look that she gave you. That cold, piercing stare that she gave you over the rim of her black-rimmed glasses was enough to make your soul flee your body. Yell? She didn’t need to. That state alone should have shown her disappointment. Of course, you couldn’t cry, not at work. But the moment you got back to your former apartment, you let it all out, and that was the last time you got an order wrong.

“Poor Alex,” you mutter to yourself as you groan, feeling secondhand embarrassment.

“Yeah, I would tread lightly if I were you,” Jae answered. You sighed and nodded. “Well, I will make sure to double-check everything,” you said as you flipped open the booklet.

“Good idea. Make sure to return it to her at the end of the day,” Jae comments, and you nod your head, starting to get to work before Jae begins with an "And also.”

You look back and up to hear what else he has to say as he stands there. “Also, there is another upcoming show this Saturday, and I need you to cover it,” Jae mentions.

‘A show?’

You blink, confused. You didn’t realize that the show was coming this close. In three days, tops, that is. But it must be crucial if Jae asks you to do it. “Oh, of course, who is it for?” you inquire.

“It’s for Kim Hongjoong,” he says.

Wait, Joong. Your Joong. A show. Upcoming. This Saturday. W-What.

“Joong is doing a show,” you murmur to yourself.

Jae tilted his head, confused. “He didn’t tell you?" he asked, brow raised. “Considering how close you are, I would have thought he had already told you. But yes, it seems to be his greatest one yet. Anyway, so I need you and only you to cover it and---.”

How can he not tell you? How can he keep…? He would always come to you and tell you how excited he was to see his designs come to life on stage, even the biggest ones. Even if you weren’t picked to attend one of the shows, he always told you how he couldn’t wait for you to see the shows, but now he has concealed this from you.

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts to see Jae looking at you curiously. “Are you alright?” Jae asked, concern evident in his voice. You nodded your head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you lied.

“Totally okay.”

You force a smile as Jae gives you a strange look before trailing off and saying, “Okay.” Not pushing his suspicion any further, he just said, “I’ll send the rest of the details through your email and get you a badge. Make sure you look over that,” he said before walking off.

As your editor walked off, you hadn’t even thought about the booklet, as it was pushed out of your mind. It returned straight to Joong. He didn’t tell you. Something so big… Something that would mark a milestone for him, but he told you nothing. Not even one word. Just the mere thought of it eats away at you like the thread on a sweater you can’t stop pulling on. Why would he hide something like that from you? But you know one thing for sure: Hongjoong is hiding something.

“So, he has a show and didn’t even tell you?” Wooyoung asked incredulously over the phone.

“I mean. Normally, Hongjoong always tells me about his upcoming show, but this time he didn’t.” You spoke as you stood there in the elevator, your phone pressed against your ear as you rummaged through your bag, searching for something, anything—lip balm, keys, maybe your sanity. “It’s just… Don’t you find it odd? HA! Found you!” you exclaimed as you finally found the item you had been hunting for.

Wooyoung, on the other end of the phone, listened before responding with an ‘hmmm.’ “It’s not like him. He always shared things with me, even when it was self-doubt or some last-minute panic he had. But this… now he has gone radio silent about a show scheduled for Saturday. I don’t know, Woo. Call me crazy, but something is up.”

“Maybe he forgot. You know a designer’s life is always hectic,” Wooyoung replied as the elevator dinged on your floor as you reached the lobby.

“All those late-night fittings, coffee-fueled sketching, and all-nighters in the studio can wipe you out. You know how the designer’s life is always hectic,” Wooyoung replied as the elevator dinged on the lobby floor. “All those late-night fittings, coffee-fueled sketching, and all-nighters in the studio can wipe you out. You know how we were in college and those internship days?”

You sigh, realizing how right he was. “I know. I know,” you say as you hear the elevator chime and step out of the elevator, your heels clicking against marble floors in the building’s lobby.

Hongjoong, on his days of designing and planning, gets so busy that he gets so caught up that sleeping is out of the question. Eating. Nope. You had to ensure he eats properly before returning to work. Sure, forgetting to mention the show sounds… plausible, but it doesn’t feel that way. “But this is not a kind of forgetting. Like, be honest, would you forget to tell me about your events?”

You bid the security guard farewell and good night as you walk past him, and he returns the same. “Okay, maybe that is a bit weird and possibly even more… suspicious than I thought,” Wooyoung said on the phone, returning to his answer. “But come on, I mean, this is Joong we’re talking about here. Maybe… he’s just planning something big and great,” Wooyoung said.

You stopped there in the lobby for only a second at Wooyoung’s words. “Bigger that he couldn't tell me,” you commented.

Silence filled the lobby and the phone. You couldn’t see it. You don’t have to. You can sense it, as you can tell that he nodded at your question as he said, “Touché.”

You hum at his response before you resume walking, your heels clattering once again. “Who knows? Maybe he’s just secretly planning to build a house after your cat and run off to Italy or Paris or something.”

“Of course. The famous house of Kiki and Sonya,” you reply, leading Wooyoung to laugh. “I mean, it has a ring to it. Kiki and Sonya, a world-renowned fashion house and two beloved felines in all of their glory,” Wooyoung said.

“Two beloved felines that are casually spoiled with endless treats.” You smiled.  As much as you and Hongjoong adore your darling babies, Kiki and Sonya, you wouldn’t dare name a whole fashion empire after those two little gremlins—maybe, and you just laugh softly at the mere thought of it. “But no,” you continued.

As you approached the lobby door, you continued your conversation. “I just…something, I don’t know. I just feel like I’m on the—,” you pause.

You froze instantly, right there in front of the lobby door. Wooyoung, on the other end, waited for you to finish but got total silence. “Hello, Y/N, HELLO!”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. You just pushed the door open, took a few steps outside, and then stood in front of Aurora’s doorway. And standing before you was the person you didn’t expect to see. The one person you didn’t even think about seeing today, or at least tonight.

“J-Joong!”

He stood there with a smile, waving as he spoke in a voice that was as smooth as possible.

“Hey, baby!”

There he was, standing right there before you, leaning against his black Audi A3, with his dark hair styled and dressed nicely in a button-down shirt, black slacks, and polished black shoes, and with the most handsome and charming look ever. His eyes locked on you, and that would make you melt right there on the spot. As you stood there, you were frozen, lost, and confused about why he was there, here, at Aurora, at your job. You were so deep in thought, you didn’t even hear Wooyoung calling your name for what seems to be the fiftieth time.

“Y/N!!”

You jumped, snapping out of your thoughts. “Y-Yeah,” you hesitantly answered.

“Is everything alright? You were all silent for a moment. Are you good? Do I need to come over there?" Wooyoung inquired with concern in his voice.

“Yeah. N-No, I’m fine. Ummm… I’ll have to call you back. Something came up,” you said as you quickly hung up the phone, still staring at Hongjoong. “Hongjoong, w-what are you doing here?”

“Well, I thought I would come to get my girl,” he announced. His words hit, but confusion remained. “Get me?” you stammered. “I—I assumed you’d still be working.”

Hongjoong just chuckled under his breath. “Well,” he began as he took a step closer to you. “I thought I would surprise you,” Hongjoong said, his eyes filled with warmth and sincerity. “I figured I would drop by to pick up my girl from a long day of work just like old times, you know? Plus, I miss my girl,” he added as he gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

The tension you felt in your chest eased a bit as he said those words. ‘Miss you,’ ‘just like old times.’ Your heart nearly skipped a beat, probably loudly, because your heels were on the marble floor inside Aurora. And as Hongjoong brushes the hair behind your ear, his finger grazes your cheek, and he leans in closer. “So… ready to go? I made plans for us this evening,” Hongjoong spoke, his voice filled with anticipation and excitement.

‘Eh?’

You blink in confusion as you stare up at him in surprise. “Plans?” you echo. He just stood there, nodding at your question with a confident smile. “Yup. You and me,” he responded.

You are still as confused as you were before. First, he was sneaky, whispering over the phone, and now this surprise pickup? You were still trying to process everything in that brain of yours. Before you could even open your mouth to ask, Hongjoong interrupted. “But we can’t be late. Everything has been prepared, and we need to get there as quickly as possible," he explained as he checked the time on his watch and his eyes moved toward his car.

“Prepared?” you uttered. “What has been prepared?”

Hongjoong just smiled and simply replied, “You’ll just have to come with me to see,” as he reached out his hand, and you stood there, looking at his hand, which practically begged for you to take it, and he noticed your hesitation. “Come on, you trust me, right?” Hongjoong enthused with a playful glint.

You blink at him, slightly unsure of the thoughts you have running through your head that are mixed with suspicion but also with excitement. You lift your hand to hover over his as you gaze returns to his eyes, his sweet, dreamy eyes. You know you trust him, and you do, yet you still have so many questions and doubts in your mind. But his warmth and reassuring smile made you ease through the thoughts for just a moment.  With a sigh, you say a small “Okay” as your fingers finally brush up against his.

He smiles as he gently grips your hand, saying a small “Atta girl.” You both walk over to his car, hand in hand, as your heels click on the pavement. He opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman as you slide in, and he closes it behind you. You sit there, buckle yourself up, and just then hear your seatbelt click. Hongjoong opened the driver’s seat, slid in and closed it behind him before fastening himself in. He turned to you and asked you if you were all set and you shyly nodded your head as he started the car and set off for your destination.

The car ride was quiet; the only thing that was playing was the music on the radio as the sunset softly set in its direction. You would occasionally stare at him, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm resting on the car’s armrest. The silence, however, was a little bearable, to say the least. I mean, you’re sitting there in his car, fiddling with the fabric of your work pants/skirt as you wonder where he is taking you. “So…,” you trailed as you looked out of your window.

“What are these plans you have for us tonight?” you asked curiously. Hongjoong smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “Well… I know we always cook dinner on Wednesdays, but I was thinking we do something different tonight,” Hongjoong answered.

‘Different.’

“There is this restaurant that just opened up,” Hongjoong said as he began to turn left. “My friend happens to be the chef there, and I thought we should drop by and try it out together. As far as I hear, the food is great.”

“Oh,” you muttered. He noticed you and faintly chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby,” he says as his hand reaches over to grab yours, and you turn your view from the streetlight to him, holding yours. And he looked over, just for a bit, and with a smile,” he said, “I promise you will love it,” ending it with a wink as he turned his focus back on the road.

“Hello, welcome. How many are in your party?” the hostess said as she greeted us with a smile.

“I actually have a reservation,” Hongjoong said, speaking to the hostess as she looked at her tablet. As she checked, your eyes moved to observe the interior décor & aesthetics, and you were impressed by the cozy and yet modern atmosphere of the restaurant. The way the lighting fits the furniture and how the overall color scheme ties everything together well. With the number of people in the restaurant, everyone seems to be having a good time, enjoying themselves with food and conversation.

“Ah,” the hostess exclaimed, which snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Mr. Kim, your table is ready. If you two would follow me,” the hostess said as she grabbed two menus, leading the way.

Hongjoong turned to you as you both followed the hostess to the designated table by a window with a fake lit candle and a vase with a single rose. Still being the gentleman he is, Hongjoong pulled out your seat as you sat down in the chair, and right when Hongjoong pulled out his chair to sit diagonally across from you, the hostess handed you two the menu and said the waiter would be here shortly before bowing and walking off, leaving us alone to peruse the menu.

You thank her before grabbing the menu. “Seems like a pleasant place, doesn’t it?” Hongjoong comments. You nod your head in agreement as you open the menu and scan through all the delicious options listed on it. The appetizer, entrée, and even dessert look and sound delicious. Seafood linguine, grilled salmon, chicken parmesan—so many options, but what do you choose first?

“Wow. There are plenty of interesting options. It’s likely to be tough to choose from so many options,” Hongjoong commented.

"Yeah, it is. You said a friend of yours is the chef here, right?" you asked, and Hoongjong hummed in response. "Yeah, my friend Yunho. We have been friends for years. He also owns the restaurant and people have written positive reviews of it online. Excited to try the food and be in the company of the prettiest lady in the establishment," he commented with a charming smile.

The blush began to appear on your cheeks as you felt a warm wave of appreciation from his comment. And just in time, the waiter arrived at your table.

"Evening, my name is Ryan, and I will be your server throughout this evening. Can I start with something to drink?"

"Could I get water?" you asked. Ryan nods his head and turns to Hongjoong. "I'll have water as well, and maybe you could recommend one of your wines for the night. Something light and refreshing?"

"Something light and refreshing. Were you thinking white or red?" Ryan asks, and Hongjoong answers with "Red." Ryan nods his head in understanding. "I think I have the exact wine in mind for you. I will be right back with your drink," Ryan says as he walks off to retrieve the drink.

You turned to Hongjoong and said, "Wine, huh? You're not normally a wine person?" Hongjoong chuckled and replied, "Trying something out never hurts anyone. Besides, why not? On this special night." He smiled before Ryan returned with the water, two wine glasses, a basket of bread, and a wine bottle.

"Here is your water, and based on your preferences, the wine of my choice is Barbera d'Asti," Ryan said as he showed us the bottle.

He popped open the bottle and began to pour the wine into the two glasses as he began to explain the drink. “This is an Italian red wine that is quite light, but it is bright and fruity with a hint of cherries and red berries,” Ryan explains. You grab your glass, examining the deep red color of the wine, swirl it around to release the aroma, and take a small sniff.

‘It does smell like cherries and berries.'

“The acidity is lively, which makes it refreshing. It’s not heavy and very smooth and easy to drink,” Ryan continues as he finishes pouring the wine into Hongjoong's glass. You drank a tiny sip of the wine, and he was right. It was refreshing. “What do you think? Is it good?" Hongjoong responded as he grabbed his wine glass.

You nod your head in response, swallowing the alcohol. “It’s delicious.” Hongjoong smiles, pleased at your answer, taking a sip for himself and humming, agreeing with your answer. “It is delicious. Thank you Ryan for the recommendation,” Hongjoong says, raising his glass.

“I am glad you are happy with the drink of choice. Would you like a moment to look over the menu, or have we already decided what we want to order?” Ryan asked.

“Are you ready, baby or do you need a moment?” Hongjoong asked, turning to you with a warm smile.

‘Oh,’ you thought to yourself. You glance back at the menu and try to find what you like. “Umm, this seems nice,” you murmur as you point to the dish on the menu, soft enough for Hongjoong to hear. Hongjoong leans over to follow your finger direction to look at his own menu and see the dish you want. “Ah, that does look good. I should have guessed you would have picked that. You always choose a pasta dish,” he chuckled.

You weren’t surprised that he remembered. To everyone, keeping track of things, even the tiniest things, seemed so insignificant, but for Hongjoong, he did it like it was his job. No matter how big or small. He will remember everything from your café order to how your eyes lit up at something sweet like dessert. It was one of the things you liked about him.

Without hesitation, he closes his menu and smiles warmly. “Alright then, we’ll have the [your dish item] and for me, I’ll take the chicken parmesan,” he says as he hands his menu over to Ryan, and you give him yours as well.

The waiter nodded as he grabbed the menu. “Excellent choice. I will get your order, and it will be out just a moment,” Ryan said as he bowed and walked off. As Ryan walks off, Hongjoong turns to you, smiles, and sighs. “I’m really excited about tonight. I think everything will turn out fine. And I’m glad you’re here with me,” Hongjoong said.

“M-Me too,” you commented. Hongjoong held his glass and raised it to toast, and you lifted yours. “To new experiences,” Hongjoong says softly as you softly clink your glasses. Hongjoong sips the wine from his glass as you stare at the deep red color in the glass as your mind processes.

You were happy that Hongjoong was here with you right now at this moment, with all the secrecy and whispers. There was one question you had that was circling in your mind that you need to get out of your head. “Joong,” you said.

Hongjoong hums as he turns to you. "Yes, baby,” he answered.

“I…. How come you never told me about your show?” You inquired curiously, causing Hongjoong to pause. “I mean, you never told me, and normally you would, but this time you didn’t. Then it’s all about hiding and the secretary. It just makes me wonder about that—” “Ah,” Hongjoong said as he set his glass down, his fingers lingering on the glass’s stem.

“Well, the house that I’m currently working on needed help designing and finalizing everything. It was just a last-minute thing, and they told me not to talk about it with anyone. Practically, they had me under an NDA and everything. You know how these fashion houses are and stuff? It’s a small show, and I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hongjoong explained.

You have heard of fashion and couture houses doing collabs, but you didn’t know that Hongjoong would engage in collaborative efforts with others, let alone in what could be a huge collaboration such as this. Your expression was filled with surprise. So… he was working on a collab this whole time.

“You’re not upset, are you?” Hongjoong said that made you snap out of your thoughts and caught you off guard. “What?”

“I mean, I have been hiding from you for a couple of months, and you were probably thinking and worried sick. With me being absent, I’m sure you---” “N-No. I’m not upset,” you quickly reassure him. “Yes, I’m a little surprised but not upset. Never. It makes me happy to hear about your process and how you’re doing things. If anything, it makes me happy that you’re doing a collab,” you said with a smile.

Hongjoong stares at you as his eyes widen, but he softens at your words as he smiles. “Thank you. Hearing you say that makes me happy. Plus,” he continues as his hand reaches out to hold yours, gently caressing it.

“There is no one I want more to cover this show than you. Just my girl sitting in the front row watching everything unfold, writing the greatest story of all time. What better way than to experience it?” He exclaimed with excitement in his voice. That same excitement when he talks about his latest designs, but his passion behind him and his eyes sparkle, makes your heart skip a beat. You feel warmth rush toward you from your chest and you smile back.

“I’m glad that I get to be there.”

Suddenly Ryan returned with your dishes, placed them in front of you, and said, “Enjoy!” before walking away. Your eyes were filled with awe and amusement as you stared at the pasta. It looked… delicious; just the sight and fragrant aroma of the food made your stomach growl in anticipation. You grab your fork and take the first bite of your food and as soon as you take the bite, your eyes widen. “Wow, this is really delicious,” you say, continuing to eat.

Hongjoong even commented on how delicious his food was and how they should thank the chef. As the two of you savored your meal, you abruptly ended the long silence. “So,” you trailed on.

“Who are you collaborating with?”

Hongjoong froze at your curiosity but wasn’t surprised as he grabbed his wine glass and said, “Sorry, baby, that’s private information.”

“What?” Hongjoong was amused by your expression as you pouted. “Come on, please,” you beg. Hongjoong shakes his head, ignoring your pleas.

“Nope, you will have to wait,” Honjgoong politely responds. You groan at his refusal, knowing that you will have to wait until before the show.

You continue to eat your food as Hongjoong brings up more conversations. You can see why people like it here; it was a pleasant, peaceful environment as people laughed and enjoyed themselves, and being here with him right here, it was great to have this chance to share this moment with him.

“So, he’s working in another house,” Wooyoung said, eating his food. You nodded your head. “Yeah.”

“Said it was a last-minute thing, and they had him in under an NDA,” you explained, sipping your drink.

Wooyoung’s brow raised as he heard your explanation. “That sounds like serious business if they had him signing it. I have never seen him collaborative with anyone before,” Wooyoung mentions.

With everything Hongjoong has told you, you couldn’t find a lie or a hint of deception within his words; therefore, it was clear that this collab was such a big deal for you. And after dinner, he went home with you to your shared apartment. Of course, Kiki and Sonya were very excited to see him, especially Sonya—the spoiled cat and traitor she is, might I add. Yet, you feel that there is more at play behind this collaboration, but you can’t seem to put your finger on it.

“Well,” Wooyoung said as he stabbed his food with his fork. “Collab or not, whatever it is, he’s planning for something big," he said when pointing his food at you before popping it into his mouth. “That man’s brain is like a factory. You don’t just disappear and suddenly reappear with the news of a ‘small show,'" he said through a mouthful of food.

You grab a napkin and pass it to him as he takes it, saying a little thank you before wiping his mouth and continuing to eat your food. “Small? A show like this is by no means small. It must be massive and by the day it drops,” Wooyoung pointed with the napkin in his hand, and you stared at him. “It will shake everything up. Hell—it might shake everyone.”

He was right in a certain way. Hongjoong wasn’t known for such a small show; perhaps when he first began, his shows started small. Nevertheless, as he progressed into the fashion industry, his shows consistently drew large crowds. It was the talk of the town, roaring through the network and social media. “Did he at the very least tell you where this show was scheduled to be held?" Wooyoung asked.

“He did say that it was going to be held in some hotel. Jae told me the same thing, and he would send me information through email whenever he got the chance, I suppose.” You mentioned chewing on your fries.

“Of course, another mystery. Why am I not surprised?” Wooyoung said with a roll of his eyes and his voice was filled with a hint of annoyance. “Leave it to Hongjoong to make us solve the mystery,” he said sarcastically.

You chuckle under your breath at his tone as you shake your head. “Don’t worry, we’ll know soon.”

You heard a ding on your phone as you saw the notification. Curious, you grab your phone to look at it and unlock your phone. And with a tilt of your head, you said, “Or now.”

Wooyoung noticed your expression and said, “Who is that? Is it your lover’s boy?”

“Actually no,” you started. “It’s another email from Jae. Info on the location of the show, which seems to be at a hotel,” you said, shaking your phone, a slight smile playing on your lips. Wooyoung’s brow furrowed, intrigued. “Really? Let me see,” he said, reaching over to grab your phone.

And at the moment you gave him the phone, his eyes scanned through the email, reading the content with intense concentration. As he read, his eyes widened in surprise as he looked at you and said, “It’s being held here,” as he pointed to the phone, and you nodded your head.

He whistled as he tilted his head in amusement. “Wow, I’m a little shocked. This hotel is quite expensive. Mr. Loverboy is really going all out,” he explained before handing over your phone.

“I’m quite stunned myself too. I’ve never been to this hotel before; I heard it’s difficult to get anything here, much less a room. Seems like this show will be intriguing,” you said as you took your phone back and set it back on the table before returning to your food.

“You know,” Wooyoung started as you looked up at him, “I think I should go.”

"Really?" you replied, raising your eyebrows, questioning. He nodded his head in response. “As creative director. It is my job to oversee everything and make sure that everything is right. And it is also my job to assure—”

 “You just want to come see for yourself, don’t you?” you smirked, cutting him off mid-sentence. And he merely smiled at your response, knowing fully well you had caught him with his true intentions. “You are damn right I am,” he said with a grin.

“There was no way I could miss this!” Wooyoung exclaimed as you laughed, shaking your head. “Well…,” you said, holding onto your drink. “I guess we will have to wait until Saturday and see.”

“Oh, just wait. I will be there front row and center, watching and making sure me and my bestie look good,” he said as he mentioned that last part with a wink, and you smiled back. You were glad to hear he was coming. I mean, it wouldn’t be the same without him.

“To Saturday,” Wooyoung concluded, lifting his fork. And you smirk, placing your drink down and clicking your fork in unison with him.

“To Saturday.”

Saturday finally came, and there you were, standing at the hotel that Jae told you about in the email, holding your travel bag and all your essentials. You even had a room booked there, surprisingly. You then took a deep breath and walked into the building. You have seen the hotel, as you have done your research before, and the décor of the hotel looks very lovely inside. You made your way to the front desk as the front desk receptionist greeted you.

“Hello, I am here for a show tonight and I also have a room booked.”

The front desk asked for your name, and you gave it to her as she began to look up information on the computer before making a sudden “Ah.”

“Y/N L/N. Room 1024. Everything is in order for you,” she said as she handed over your key card and you thanked her before grabbing your bag and proceeding to the elevator. Inside, you pressed the button for the tenth floor. And as the elevator ascended, you stood there listening to the upbeat, calming melody of elevator music, waiting for your floor to arrive.

Finally, the elevator stops on the 10th floor and chimes as the door slides open, allowing you to step off and follow the signs to your designated room. And there you are.

Room 1021

And once you arrive, you tap on your key card as it beeps for you to enter. You open the door and step inside the suite. And as you stepped further inside to look at the room, you saw the most stunning suite you have ever seen. It was elegant, warm and well-designed.

From the décor of the room to the artwork that is hanging on the wall and how the colors match perfectly with the luxurious furniture in the seating area, it makes the room feel inviting. As you investigated the room, you noticed a vase full of flowers placed on the table near the couch. You walk over to the team, and they are your favorite flowers. A card was placed on there as you grabbed it and read it as it said,

‘To my favorite girl, I hope you like the flowers, as they are as pretty as you are. Can’t wait to see you out there.

-HJ’

You smile at the car as you set it down. Warmth begins to rise in your chest. That man—always full of surprises. You reach out with your fingers to the petals, feeling the soft texture before walking further into the suite. Everything in the suite looked great until you walked further into the suite’s bedroom and saw the bed full of rose petals. Then you noticed across the neatly made bed was a black garment bag with a small tag attached to the zipper with your name written on it and a pair of heels at the foot of the bed.

’For me?’

You thought to yourself… Curious, you unzipped the garment bag little by little; only halfway through and inside, you saw the top part of the dress. Pink. Off the shoulder. And from the label on the tag, it was your size. You saw a note beside the bag, and you picked it up as it read,

‘Wear this tonight.’

Looking back at the note and the dress, you carefully pulled the dress out of the garment bag to get a better look at the dress. It was gorgeous, long but there was slit that reach the hip but it was simple. You carefully ran your finger over the delicate fabric before putting it down gently on the bed before grabbing the heels, turning them over in your hand. And you could tell they were Christian Louboutin, your favorite brand, nude stiletto heels with the signature red soles. Simple, elegant and paired perfectly with the dress.

Setting the shoes down, you felt a bit of nerve yet excitement rose within you. Your phone then vibrated, and it was Hongjoong, asking you if you settled in alright and saying that he can’t wait to see you. You smile, quickly replying to the text message, adding a small heart at the end of the text before sending the text message off and flopping on the soft, relaxing bed as you look at the ceiling.

This is it. This is the moment you can all Hongjoong success. His big moment.

You let out a sigh and before you could relax, you heard a knock on the door as you sat up from the bed. “Wonder who that could be,” you mutter. Another knock on the door jolted your thoughts as you got out of the bed and walked to the door and opened it to find…

“Well, I wonder when you were going to open the door. Starting to think you weren’t here.”

“Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa. One of the top models in the fashion world, the face of every magazine ever made, including Aurora; even I have the pleasure of interviewing him. He was also Hongjoong’s best friend. Hongjoong and Seonghwa go back…way back. He even modeled for one of Hongjoong’s shows when Hongjoong started out designing, which had a huge turnout. And now he’s standing there in front of you at your hotel door, all well dressed, with his hair styled in the color silver, holding a gift bag.

“Hwa. What brings you here?”

You asked curiously. “What. Can’t visit an old friend,” Seonghwa commented as a faint smile played on his lip.

“Never said you couldn’t come. Just wasn’t expecting you here. That’s all.”

And he let out a soft chuckle as he leaned against the door. “Of course. I would not miss my dear friend’s big night, and I thought you could use some company before getting ready. Which reminds me you’re not dressed," he commented.

You look down still in your casual clothing. You were lying on the bed, in hope that you would have at least a few moments of peace, but Seonghwa's unexpected visit interrupted your plans. "Yeah," you trailed on. "I was about to get ready in a few. Just relaxing a bit, you know."

"Oh, perhaps I could come in. There is still time before the show starts," Seonghwa suggested.

“I don’t know, Hwa. I mean, I don’t want to get into your busy schedule and—”

Seonghwa waved his hand dismissively, his expression softening. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Besides, we can talk and have a drink like old times. I even came out this way with gifts. Just an hour or 2 at the latest, I promised.”

You look at Seonghwa and that pout of his and you can't turn him away. It would be rude of you to do so. So, you sigh, relenting with a gentle nod. “Alright. You can come in. Just an hour or two. But after that, I must get ready,” you pointed out.

“I understand,” Seonghwa smiles as he steps inside the suite and then he turns to the door and shouts, “In here, everyone,” as a few people enter the room carrying carts and your eyes widen as you watch them enter your suite, confused about what is happening and who these people are. “Feel free to place your things anywhere,” Seonghwa told them as they began to unpack.

“W-wait. What’s going on? I thought you said we could talk and drink.” “We are,” Seonghwa replied as he gestured toward the team of stylists that was bursting into the suite. “They are here to help you get ready. You’ve got to look your best tonight, after all,” he walks over to squeeze your cheeks in a playful manner.

“Here is the dress,” one of the stylists spoke as she came out of the suite bedroom with the dress in hand. "Oh, perfect,” Seonghwa spoke as he let go of your cheek.

You rub your cheek as you watch the other unpack everything—makeup kits, brushes, hair tools, nail polish and various other items—as they arrange each item with practiced care. You should have known Seonghwa was up to something the moment you offered to come in and the moment he flashed that smile of his and that pout. You saw

"Alright, everything seems to be in order." Seonghwa spoke as he hung the dress on the door handle. "Let's get started," he says as he walks around, watching the stylists continuing to set up the room.

“Hwa. You don’t have to do this. I’m fine with getting ready myself,” you commented, trying to reassure him and Seonghwa just chuckled under his breath. "Nonsense."

"I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't do this. Now sit," he commanded as he sat you down on the

"Nonsense. I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't do this," Seonghwa said as he chuckled under his breath. "Now sit," he commanded as he sat you down on the armchair.

He leans close as he looks at you with careful eyes. And you sat there frozen as he just continued to analyze you. After a while, he smiled and stood up straight. "Now," he spoke as two stylists, make-up and hair, stood beside him

"Let's make you look stunning."

You stood there in the hall, your hair styled neatly and curled, your make-up put together courtesy of Seonghwa and the stylist teams, and the dress and heels that were put out as requested. The dress fits you perfectly and the shoes fit. You even had jewelry that the stylist put on you: a pair of diamond earrings, a necklace, and a tennis bracelet, all for you to wear. Before coming downstairs, you took a glance at yourself, admiring the work of the stylist teams and you looked good. Stunning even. You almost couldn’t believe that it was you, standing there. It almost feels surreal.

And now here you are, standing here in the hall, lost in thought, holding your notebook, pen and badge. You hear a sudden whistle as you turn around, revealing it to be Wooyoung, all dressed in his dark blue denim look, with a black shirt underneath, black shoes and a pair of sunglasses that rested on his head. “Look at you,” Wooyoung exclaimed as he circled around you.

“My bestie cleans up real nice,” Wooyoung commented and you just smile. “Thank you. The make-up and everything were all Seonghwa. The dress and shoes, however, were there when I got into the room,” you briefly explained as you looked down at your outfit once.

“You look great as well.”

“Do I?” Wooyoung grinned, striking a pose as if the camera were on him. “You know I must look my best,” dusting himself off and you slightly chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re completely impossible.

“And also, iconic. Don’t forget,” Wooyoung pointed. “Anyway, shall we go?” he suggested as he leaned his arm out for you to take. And you smile, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. “We shall.”

Together, you both started down the hallway as the soft clink of Christian Louboutin stiletto heels thumped onto the carpet floor alongside Wooyoung's confident stride. As the two of you walk down the hall, there are a few people lining up to a door that leads into the ballroom, and they are there, talking and greeting someone at the door. And at the door was him, Hongjoong.

You simply gawk at just looking at him. He was so handsome and so fashionably dressed. In his white dress shirt, black jacket with white lining, black pants and black sunglasses. He looks amazing. The moment he bows, greeting the guest, his eyes turn to you and simply freeze, sliding his glass up from his nose to rest on his head to get a better look at you. His lip parted slightly in surprise, then curled into a warm, genuine smile. And once you finally stood in front of him, he couldn't help himself from getting close to you, staring at you with adoration as you unlinked your arm from Wooyoung and your hand met Hongjoong's.

‘“Wow. You look…” Hongjoong said as he looks at you with a smile. “Incredible,” he finally said, finally getting the right words for it and unable to tear his gaze away from you.

“Thank you. Credit goes to Seonghwa and his stylist team."

"Then I will have to thank Seonghwa myself when I see him," Hongjoong said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling.

Your heart flutters at his words. "Oh, thank you for the dress, by the way. It was lovely," you express your gratitude.

"You're welcome. This is a big show and I want you to look great." Hoongjong spoke as he shone that that was making just blush. Thank god the makeup team put blush on you or else Joong will have to see how red you are. Suddenly Wooyoung clears his throat, ruining the small moment between you and Hongjoong as you and Hongjoong turn your gaze to Wooyoung as they acknowledge each other.

"Wooyoung."

"Hongjoong."

Silence filled the area for a moment as they both looked at each other with such intensity until Hongjoong spoke first. "You look…nice," Hongjoong spoke, breaking the tension.

You look back at Wooyoung, seeing Wooyoung's eyes looking back before looking back at Hongjoong. “Thanks,” he responded. “You look nice as well.”

Hongjoong thanked him with a smile. “Though I must admit, if anyone is pulling off the glasses look … it’s me,” Wooyoung pointed out.

“Oh really?" Hongjoong arched his brow, amused.

“I mean yes, see how they suit this face. It’s a gift. And this look, I have to admit, I look stunning." Wooyoung spoke and you shook your head at him and Hongjoong leaned in and whispering in your ear, “Don’t worry, love, I think between us, you look the most dressed out of all of us." Hongjoong spoke as he leaned down to place a peck on your cheek.

And upon seeing this, Wooyoung fakeily gagged at the affection you and Hongjoong were showing. "Ugh—disgusting. If you excuse us, my bestie and I must go and take our seats for your show," Wooyoung said.

"Oh yeah,” Hongjoong said as if he suddenly remembered. “I'll see you out there.”

You nod, replying with a smile as Hongjoong leans in and places a peck on your cheek before unlinking your hand back to Wooyoung's arm before walking away from Hongjoong as he greets the other guest.

“Finally. Any minute he would have sucked your face off,” Wooyoung said and you chuckled at his words, shaking your head. “Please,” you scoff lightly.

“You love it.”

“As if. You remember how that man tortured me whenever he was dropping you off at work,” Wooyoung finished. In the beginning when you and Hongjoong began to live together at your new studio apartment, Hongjoong would always offer to drop you off and when he did, he would always give you kisses before leaving and sometimes, somehow, Wooyoung would always end up there at the right time at the wrong place. Much to Wooyoung's protest, you just giggled while Hongjoong was strictly amused. "It was awful."

"So you don't enjoy your own bestie being adored?" you teased.

"Of course I do. Let's be honest, if being adored was a sport, honey, you would have a gold medal right now," Wooyoung joked and you just chuckled.

You both walk through the ballroom door as you stand there and scan around the room. The light was dim, just enough to cast a warm glow over the room with a soft gold reflecting off the chandeliers above the stage. There was a row of sleek chairs lined up on each side of the runway that stretched long and elegantly along the center of the room.

Florals of white and blush pink that were carefully placed and arranged along the side of the stage, adding the touch of elegance to the atmosphere and you stood there as you slowly took it all in as you watched several of the guests gather around, chatting and sitting in their seats.

"Hey," Wooyoung nudges, and your head snaps at him. "You alright?"

"Yes, it's… This doesn't seem like a 'small show,' you know."

Wooyoung looked around and hummed in agreement. "Yeah. I see what you mean. But you know him. Never does anything halfway."

You nod your head. "Let's go get into our seats," Wooyoung spoke, placing his hand on your back, leading you toward the rows of seats as you continued to scan. The backdrop on the stage wasn't loud or overbranded. No overwhelming visuals but one word that said:

𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓥𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓽

Written in elegant script. The moment you got your seats that had your name and Wooyoung's name on them, Wooyoung noticed your expression again and asked, "Are you sure you're okay?" as you both sat down in the front row, facing the stage. As you continue to take in the atmosphere, you just whisper, "I have a weird feeling."

"Good weird or bad weird?" Wooyoung asked with a concerned look on his face.

"I-I… I don't know yet. But I have a feeling."

"Hey," Wooyoung said as he placed his hands on top of yours. "It's going to be okay. I'm right here with you," giving your hand a gentle squeeze and you offer him a smile, giving him a small thanks. The light slowly began to dim as people began to sit in their seats, preparing themselves and getting their phones ready as you opened your notepad and prepared to jot down any information.

And then music began. Soft. Familiar. Almost romantic. The melody of the song seems quite familiar. Then the first model stepped on the runway, and the show began.

The first look was stunning. Bold yet intimate. Structured but soft. The colors were rich and vibrant. It was like a story being told right now in every detail. You quickly jot down on your notebook, getting any information you can. Then came the second look. Then third. Then fourth. Then fifth. Each look on that stage was stunning, but something about these looks gave you chills.

Was it the chill air in the ballroom… No… Was it that each of the looks seemed to be a nod to something you may possibly recognize…? Maybe. Or was it that each model you have seen that grace that stage all seem to be the same exact height, like…yours? Just the mere thought of it sends a shiver down your spine.

You snap out of your thoughts, focusing on the show as the next model steps out of the stage. The silhouette of the outfit was different from the other. It had a sweetheart neckline and clean lines. Your pen began to move across the notepad on your lap.

'Tailoring within the look shows natural look and form.'

'Romantic'

Each outfit that graces the stage screams Hongjoong in every way. The next model stepped out onto the stage, and as you looked at the look, it was like something growing within your chest. Not an overwhelming feeling but more like something you can't ignore. Something in this outfit seems…familiar, as if you have worn it before or maybe seen it somewhere. But where, though?

Wooyoung notices your expression from the corner as he leans in and whispers, “You good?” You didn’t look away from the stage as you walked; all the models walked the model, posing as you leaned in. “Yeah. Maybe it’s just the chill in the room.”

Continue to watch the model as they walk the stage, writing down onto your notepad.

‘Soft’

‘Intimate’

It was then that you realized that these were things that you recognized within these—clothing that you saw in past magazines that you admired, the same exact detail that you once shared, and the colors cream, blush, and some that were deep black with ivory details. You recognized it all.

Not in a way that makes sense right now, but it was the way that all the memories of it came to you without a second thought. And when the next model stepped onto the runway, this look moved differently than the other, more fluid and less sharp. Thoughtful and elegant. The shape of the look of how it hugs the model figure and flows freely. Out of all the models you see, this was different. This felt more than just a collection; it felt a bit…more. But you can’t seem to think of what.

Then it was the final model and it was the air in the room exhaled all at once. Applause began to ripple in the ballroom as Hongjoong began to step out with a smile as everyone recognized the genius behind the amazing design and you show your apprection joining the others even Wooyoung who commented, "Got to say, great show."

And the model stood there, taking her final turn with grace and confidence. Hongjoong stayed there, bowing before grabbing the mic to speak.

"First off, I want to thank everyone for coming," Hongjoong started, showing his appreciation to the audience.

"This is a huge moment for me and I'm grateful to have you all here with me. This show. This collection, 𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓥𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓽, has been a long time coming for me and I'm glad that you all could be here to witness it. However…" he spoke, which caught your attention.

"There was one final piece that didn't get to grace the stage tonight."

The audience begins to mutter as curiosity ripples through the crowd; even you are curious as your pulse quickens. “This final piece,” Hongjoong started, his voice calm, “was never meant to walk this stage or be worn by any of the models. It was designed for someone.”

He softly chuckled before continuing. “For someone who has been with me long before this collection even had its name. Someone has been a constant inspiration and my muse in everything I have sketched and designed that has become reality. This final piece isn’t just a design. It’s my heart, my gratitude, and my story that are all woven together. And that someone is… you, Y/N,” Hongjoong spoke as he turned to you.

In that instant, you felt all eyes on you as everyone turned in your direction as you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks. He made…this dress…for you. Your breath was caught as you sat there frozen in your seat as Hongjoong began to walk slowly toward the edge of the stage, extending his hand out toward you. "Y/N," he spoke so gently.

“Could you step up here, please?”

You gulp so slightly, nervous as you slowly begin to rise from your seat as you walk toward the steps of the stage, placing your hand into Hongjoong's as he takes it as you begin to slowly climb up the steps to the stage as he leads you to the middle of the stage before turning to face you fully under the soft light of the ballroom and the chandeliers.

“This piece was never meant to be shown on the runaway on any model but was meant for you to wear it. You want to know why I have been hiding and being secretive for all this time," Hongjoong spoke, his voice filled with emotion as you stood there listening.

“I have been planning—planning for this exact moment. Every line that I have sketched, every stitch that I have sewn and every work that has graced this stage has been building for this moment and each of those works was inspired by you. Your personality. Your strength. Your warmth. This collection is inspired by every moment we have shared together every day."

You could almost feel the tears threatening to spill as he spoke, your vision blurring just enough to make the lights glow softer.

The reason why I made this collection is because you are my muse, my partner and the exact reason why this collection exists today and I have got to tell my story. You said it yourself, remember when we first met, that fashion is about telling a story through every design but this one. This one will be the greatest story I’ve ever told.”

Then suddenly Hongjoong went into his pocket, pulling out a ring box before dropping down on one knee in front of you as you gasp.

oh

oh

OH

OH MY GOSH

It all makes sense now. This isn’t a normal fashion show. It’s a proposal. HE WAS PROPOSING TO YOU. And you stood there on that runway as everyone—close friends, models from backstage, and all—watched you as Hongjoong knelt in front of you with the most beautiful ring in his hand. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face, as you could not hold them anymore. “Y/N,” Hongjoong spoke.

“I would be honored if you would continue choosing me, as I would continue to choose you every day for the rest of our lives. Y/N, will you marry me?”

You couldn't speak as you sobbed like a child, overwhelmed with emotion and love for the man in front of you. The only thing you could manage to say was "Yes" as you nodded your head, accepting his proposal as confetti popped around you and the crowd shouted, whistled, and applauded. Hongjoong put the ring on your finger before standing up to lean down to kiss you.

The models return to one final applause and bow as the confetti fills up the stage like glittering snow. You almost hear Wooyoung's voice within all of the cheering and shouting. And right when you both pull away from the kiss, Hongjoong pulls away from you, his forehead resting against yours. You could feel the crowd’s applause wash over you as you realized that this…was just the beginning.

"Congratulations to the newly engaged couple,” the host announced through the loudspeaker as everyone cheered, raising their glasses of champagne in the air before drinking.

It turns out after months of secrets and hiding, Hongjoong was planning a surprise for you. A marriage proposal in front of all your friends and acquaintances and his friends and acquaintances. Now here you are in another ballroom celebrating your now engagement as Hongjoong standing behind you with his hand wrapped around your waist as you were pressed against him with a proud and loving smile on his face.

"Congratulations to you two on your engagement. I’m so happy to see you happy and a well-done show, I may say,” Seonghwa spoke as you stood in front of him.

“Thank you, Hwa,” Hongjoong said, his voice filled warm. “I’m glad that everything turned out as planned. Thought I must thank you and your team of stylists and my baby here,” he added as he glared at you with a smile.

“Anything for a dear friend. You know I’m always here for you,” Seonghwa smiled, giving you a small wink. “And seeing her look like an absolute beauty… I have got to admit, Joong, you have outdone yourself. This dress does suit her.”

“I knew it would be the moment I saw her in it,” Hongjoong spoke and you blushed lightly. “I should have known you were on to this Hwa due to the mischievous smirk of yours. Considering you are his best friend and all,” you mention.

Seonghwa chuckles under his breath, raising his hand as if he surrenders. “What can I say?" he said with amusement. “I was just following orders from the captain here. Specific order,” he kindly added.

“Oh really?”

Seonghwa nodded. “And I see that my work here is done. I must go now. Many people to meet at this lovely party. Congratulations once again,” Seonghwa spoke as he stepped aside and you thanked him again as Hongjoong pulled you a little closer.  “Your friend are quite something else Mr. Kim,” you side eyed that cause Hongjoong smirk. “You know no idea soon to be Mrs. Kim,” Hongjoong murmured back as your cheek slowly turn red as he called you that title.

‘Soon to be Mrs. Kim’

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it. It also sounds unreal to you, but you couldn't help the flutter of excitement inside your chest. As time passed, more guests approached, offering their congrats and well wishes on a happy engagement as the room was filled with laughter, clinking of glasses, and music. You couldn’t help yourself from smiling nonstop, still not believing that this… this was real. As the minutes went on, and you were deep within a conversation with a guest, you heard a sly response that said,

“Well, it’s about time you got engaged,” Wooyoung strolling over and you couldn’t help but giggle under your breath as the guest stepped aside and Wooyoung stood there with a smile on his face. "So… May I?”

You turn to look at Hongjoong, who looks down at you with a smile before looking back at Wooyoung as you extend your hand out to look at the ring. “Whoa. Look at that rock,” Wooyoung finish as he took your hand with exaggerated care.

“Diamond, nice cut, perfect fit,” Wooyoung spoke as he examined the ring closely. "Damn, girl, he really means forever forever, huh?"

“Nothing but the best for her,” Hongjoong commented.

 “Isn’t it beautiful?" You commented as you admired the ring with Wooyoung.

“Beautiful,” Wooyoung scoffed. “Honey, this is stunning. It could probably blind someone. I hope you warned the press about this,” Wooyoung finished as you chuckled softly. Still, holding your head delicately as he looks at you and sighs.

“I can say this was well put together. You did a good job,” Wooyoung spoke, as if he wasn’t trying to hide the pride in his voice but Hongjoong smile and said, “Thank you.”

You smile at their banter until Wooyoung says, "Honestly, when you told me you wanted to do this. I had my doubts, but I got to say you pull it off.”

That caught your attention. Wait… "You…knew."”

Wooyoung realized what he said and nodded his head, unable to even hide the truth anymore. “You knew… this whole time.”

“Of course I knew. The day he came to me and told me what he was going to do,” Wooyoung explained. He told you everything. The day they met up, the day Hongjoong showed him the sketch of the dress and how he was going to propose to you. He said it all. Your bestie, who you confided in these past few days over Hongjoong, was onto this the whole time. “After that the plan was in motion; he wouldn’t stop calling me in the middle of the night,” Wooyoung added.

“So, it was you he was on the phone with?”

“I’m sorry, bestie, I didn’t mean to hide this from you. I swear,” Wooyoung plead as you pulled your hand over, look away, pouting as you cross your arms.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can forgive you.”

Wooyoung gasp as he claps his hand together. “Oh, please, bestie. Forgive me.” You look at him with a puppy dog eye and those pouty lips of his and you just sigh. “Okay, I’ll forgive you. If…”

“If,” Wooyoung started.

“If… you will accept being my man of honor.”

And Wooyoung's eyes widen in shock, his jaw dropping slightly. Speechless, as if he was trying to find the right words. “Me… I would be honored,” Wooyoung spoke before pulling you into a hug, spinning you around as you both laugh.

And Wooyoung's eyes widen in shock, his jaw dropping slightly. Speechless as if he was trying to find the right words. “Me… I would be honored,” Wooyoung spoke before pulling you into a hug, spinning you around as you both laugh.

His joy and relief were evident of Wooyoung as he embraced you tightly as you both pull away from the hug. "Good because there isn't anyone I want more to be there as my man of honor than my bestie."

“Oh, trust me, this wedding will be perfect and with me as your man of honor, everything will run smoothly as planned, and no drama,” Wooyoung finishes, still holding onto your arms with a proud grin of his.

“Of course it will. We have your great skill of keeping everything on track as creative director and all and my brilliant brain and…,” Hongjoong spoke as he turns you around, holding you in his arms. “The most beautiful soon to be bride that will ever walk this earth.”

You smile as you both lean in and share a soft, lingering kiss and you could practically hear Wooyoung gag in disgust. “And now my mood has been ruined,” Wooyoung spoke as you chuckled before turning around with Hongjoong's hands back around you.

“I’m going to go and enjoy the party now before I vomit,” Wooyoung turn around and walk away.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, bestie,” Wooyoung shouted back.

As time went on, you were enjoying the music of the party, watching everyone dancing, drinking, having fun. And as the party goes on, somehow Seonghwa couldn’t help himself placing small kisses on your neck as you slight wine, “Joong.”

“There are people around.”

Hongjoong hums in response, saying, “Can’t help it. My girl looks so good tonight,” as he continues placing more kisses. You sigh, trying to stay composed as his kisses were just light, passionate, impossible to resist. You could almost feel your knees weaken at the touch.

“Seeing you like this. Do you know what that does to me, seeing my girl dress in my design with my name on it. God, there are so many things I want to do to you,” Hongjoong continued as you shiver at his words, your breath caught as he presses closer, his hand holding you tighter than ever.

“What don’t you show me,” you said as you turn to meet Hongjoong’s gaze as you both froze before Hongjoong smirk, making the first move, unwrapping his arms around you, putting down his glass of champagne and taking yours as you giggled as he grab your hand, leading you both out of the ballroom for an night of private celebration.

Part 2 coming soon…

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Tit For Tat [M] — Kim Mingyu

✧ Better think twice before you play ✧

Plot: Picture this… your boyfriend enjoyed his ice cream a little too much and you decide to clean up the mess he made. 

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Kim Mingyu (SVT) 🎥 Genre: light SMUT [+18], established relationship 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, exhibitionism, grinding, nipple play, orgasm denial/edging 🎥 Notes: I am a little later than usual but it’s here, voilaaa 💜 🎥 Shout out: thank you @nothoughtsjustfic my lemon drop for reading it through for me!!!

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

God, he's so fucking messy. 

That was the thought that ran through your mind as you observed your boyfriend with fascination from your spot beside him.

The two of you'd had a busy week at work so you decided to spend this warm and sunny Saturday lounging by your pool in the garden. And while you had been reading for the majority of the afternoon, Mingyu had gone for a swim and was currently recovering from said activity with a cold sweet treat that had you more than a little distracted from your book.

The man was greedily licking at his ice cream as he laid on one of the lounge chairs, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that half of the cream-colored substance was steadily dripping down his fingers, or that you were ogling him like a piece of meat. 

Mingyu was a messy eater, always had been, but you didn’t mind it at all. In fact, it was one of the things you adored about him so much. However, not once had you thought that the sight of him eating so messily was arousing. But then again, he was half naked with all his perfectly defined muscles on display and still slightly wet from the pool, and the way his mouth was moving around his ice cream reminded you of something else — something you very much wanted him to do to you. 

Yeah, you definitely couldn’t tell that you were ovulating. 

You finally had enough when some of the sticky cream landed on one of his pecs and he didn’t even bother to remove it. It was almost as if he was doing it all on purpose. 

So you put down your book and got up from your own chair, not even giving him a second to process your approach before you were sitting in his lap, legs on either side of him to trap him in. 

“Well, hello to you too.” Your boyfriend licked the ice cream from his lips as he took a moment to admire the revealing bathing suit you were wearing. 

“You know you're fucking messy, right?” You hungrily eyed the bit of ice cream that was now slowly making its way towards his taut nipple. 

His lips formed into a sly smirk. “Not my fault the ice cream is melting faster than I can eat.”

You raised your eyebrows and released an amused snort. “I somehow find that hard to believe, Mr. Kim.” 

“Too bad,” he responded, making sure to keep his eyes locked with you as he finished the remainder of his ice cream. “Are you going to help me clean up, though?”

You bit your lip, unsure if you wanted to leave him hanging or give in. But as he raised his sticky fingers to your lips, you could no longer resist the temptation.

Your lips parted almost automatically, taking in two of Mingyu’s fingers while you ground yourself against his hardening dick. 

“Fuck, baby. You look so hot with my fingers stuffed in your pretty little mouth,” he groaned, placing his free hand on your waist to help guide your movements. 

The combination of the sticky ice cream hitting your taste buds and the delicious constant pressure against your clit had you absolutely delirious with desire. Your tongue danced around his fingers with skill, sucking lightly here and there to tease him for a bit until you decided to move on to the next best thing. 

You released his fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, sending your boyfriend a mischievous grin while your hands reached for the chair handles. 

“Holy shit!” Mingyu exclaimed when you suddenly pulled on them, forcing him to lay completely flat without warning. 

“That’s better.” You chuckled, leaning down to hover your lips over his. 

Thinking you were about to kiss him, Mingyu closed his eyes, head lifting slightly to meet you halfway. Only you had other plans, so you avoided his lips and ducked your head, trailing a path of wet sloppy kisses along his neck all the way down to the part of him you had been eyeing for a while now. 

A hiss left Mingyu’s mouth as your teeth scraped over his sensitive nipple. Satisfied with his reaction, you did the same to his other nipple, making sure to lick up the trail of ice cream that had formed before clamping your lips around the hardened peak. 

As a result of your administrations, Mingyu had turned into a whiny mess beneath you, his breathing heavier than a minute ago and his hips frantically bucking against yours as you used a mix of teeth and tongue on his nipples to bring him closer to his high. 

He was exactly where you wanted him to be. 

“I’m about to fucking c-cum, shit!” 

As soon as the words had left his mouth, you were up and gone, letting a devilish grin cover your features. 

“What the heck? Where are you going?” a clearly confused Mingyu protested, reaching for you only to realize that you were already too far away. 

“Now you know exactly how I felt this morning.” You gave him a pointed look, referring to when he thought it was fun to edge you again and again, only for you to finally get your release after an hour and a half of torture. 

“Really? You’re seriously going to leave me hanging like this for that?”

You nodded, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Sure am. Serves you right.”

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he slowly got up from the chair, his dick now visibly straining against his swimming trunks.

“Are you?” you challenged, forcing yourself to back up the closer Mingyu got.

He smirked, his eyes sparking with heat as they devoured your body from head to toe. 

“Bring it on, baby.”

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[rems-writing]

Fuckboy Seonghwa drabble

Who: Seonghwa (Ateez) x gn!reader

What: Genres/au - Smut/non-idol AU

WC: 500 words

Summary: just a short drabble about Seonghwa if he were a fuckboy

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @newworldnet @cosyhomenet

There's also this one 👇🏽

i'm also tagging @solarhwa because i like messing with them lol

Everyone liked to think of Seonghwa as this untouchable man who gets what he wants at just the snap of his fingers. Boys want to either be him or fight him, professors always swoon over him, and every single girl wants to sleep with him. Every single week or two weeks, there’s always a different girl on his arm. He’d use his unique charm to sneak his way into the pants of anyone that basically breathes his way. He’s got it all! The only downside to his reputation is that whenever he hangs around a girl for far too long, they start to get attached. The more they become attached, the harder it is for Seonghwa to reject him. Despite his fuckboy tendencies, he has a soft heart. He swore he could hear the vital organ chip away every time words of rejection leave his pretty mouth. Then he’d have to go through the rollercoaster of said girl spewing some bullshit about how she felt a connection and that he’d regret his decision when time passes. It was annoying as hell, but what can he do? He is the way he is and nothing could change that.  

Except you. 

Long story short, you definitely weren’t like the other girls and Seonghwa found that not only challenging but intriguing as well. He was so used to girls falling at his feet fast that sometimes, he would struggle to form a coherent sentence without overthinking it. In the end though, you saw his efforts and decided to give him a chance. Even though there were obstacles standing in your way (i.e. past flings for the main part), your love for him and his love for you surpassed everything. 

“Darling, touch yourself for me.”

You were currently facetiming him and it was slowly inching its way towards video chat sex. He was in a dimly lit car torturing you. He said that he was on his way to see you, but being the little shit that he is, he decided to park somewhere and proceed to do this. You were taken aback by what he requested. Usually, you were a good girl and obeyed his orders. However, you also decided to be a little shit by resorting to brattiness. You sassily said no and hung up on him. The giddiness you felt took over your entire body and you knew that he’d probably take away your ability to walk if you kept this up. Determined to receive the roughest sex of your life, you quickly changed into a specific lingerie set you knew he would like.

“Well then… isn’t this quite the surprise you had in store for me.”

While you were giggling and putting on a show for him, Seonghwa was seated in your desk chair, raking over your form with glazed and lustful eyes. He bit his bottom lip and chuckled darkly once you plopped yourself down onto his lap.  

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll only remember my name.”