pairing: brother's best friend!haechan x fem. reader
genre: smut, bit of crack
wc: 7k
summary: you send a spicy photo to the wrong lee and suddenly your brother's best friend is at your door with mulled wine and a space heater talking about "keeping you warm"
content warnings: christmas/holidays setting, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, accidental sexting, mild language/profanity, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, lingerie kink, references to bruising/scratches from sex, banter & relentless teasing, mild reference to soreness/discomfort, hae is actually a simp and down bad, reader is a bit of a tsundere lowk, the bells stayed ON during sex
a/n: merry xmas besties !! accept this last min gift from me because i honestly don’t know how to thank you enough for all the love this year. ngl this was definitely a bit rushed bc i wanted to post it on time for xmas so it is pretty fast paced. also, if you spot any mistakes lmk i will fix them eventually hehe. anyways enjoy!! ps: take a shot for every time you see the words "jingle bells" lol
There is a strange calm that comes over the city on Christmas Eve. Fewer cars line the roads, lights go out behind shop windows, and it seems as though all the apartments in your street have the same deep orange glow, as if the city has put a blanket around itself and turned on a reading light.
Your place is a different story altogether.
The heater has given up on you yet another winter, and you exist in thick socks and oversized sweaters for the duration, fogging the air with your breath as if you’re holidaying in a downbeat ski lodge rather than your zone 2 apartment.
Your mother has already called three times, each a frantic ninety-second sprint through holiday plans: Will you bring the extra chairs? Are you still pescatarian, or just being difficult about red meat? Can you pick up the right cranberry sauce, you know the one in the glass jar, not the jellied monstrosity from the tin?
You agree to everything, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, trying to sound composed while your teeth threaten to chatter. You’re still perched on your bed, half-naked. Your thighs and shoulders ache with cold, and you’re painfully aware of every square inch of exposed skin.
Not ten minutes ago, you’d spent the better part of an hour contorting into increasingly improbable angles in red lace and utterly humiliating jingle bells, all in the name of looking effortless for Jeno, of course.
Jeno: there’s a name your pulse seems to know better than your own. Three months of teasing pictures from him post-workout, with nothing but a towel slung over his hips so his abs take center stage. The subtext has never been subtle. Tonight you’d planned to stop being subtle in return.
Now, while your mom lists off a litany of tasks, you’re scrolling through chats ready to finally send the photo that’s taken nearly an hour (and a year’s worth of courage) to create. The cold had made the whole thing an endurance exercise, goosebumps rippling over your arms as you tried to ignore how the bells jingled with every movement. The best photo sits ready on your screen, the last thing you snapped before your mom’s ringtone interrupted.
She’s still talking about napkin colors, whether the buses are still running, and remindng you to bring nice pajamas for the inevitable Christmas morning photos. You’re only half listening as you thumb out a quick “Merry Christmas x”, attach the photo, and press send, so practiced in the gesture you don’t bother double checking.
There’s a satisfying whoosh.
Then your blood runs cold when you read the name at the top of the chat.
Lee Haechan.
Not Lee Jeno.
Not the man with gym selfies who’s been circling your DMs like a hawk.
No. You’ve just sent a very curated, very intimate, very jingling photo of yourself to Lee fucking Haechan—your brother’s best friend. Eternal nuisance. Long-time gremlin. The boy who once told your crush that you still slept with a stuffed animal named Mr. Toast when you were fifteen.
The phone buzzes in your hand.
Haechan: holy. shit.
Haechan: is this what you’re wearing to dinner tomorrow or…?
Your mother's voice becomes white noise as you watch those messages appear. The phone nearly slips from your suddenly nerveless fingers.
"—and don't forget the wine, the Pinot Grigio not the Sauvignon Blanc, you know how your father gets about—"
"Mom, I have to go," you interrupt, voice strangled and hysterical. "Emergency."
"What emergency, dear—"
You hang up. She'll forgive you eventually, probably after three glasses of the wrong wine, but right now you have bigger problems. Catastrophically bigger problems.
You: THAT WASN'T FOR YOU
You: DELETE IT
You: DELETE IT RIGHT NOW
You: HAECHAN I SWEAR TO GOD
The typing bubble appears immediately.
Haechan: you know, when you said you were bringing dessert tomorrow
Haechan: i assumed you meant cookies or something
You're going to die. Actually, physically die. In your freezing apartment, still wearing the stupid lingerie.
You: it was meant for someone else
You: obviously
You: please just delete it and we never speak of this again
Haechan: someone else???
Haechan: so you’re just spreading holiday cheer randomly
Haechan: i'm devastated
Your apartment feels even colder now, or maybe that's just the mortification freezing you from the inside out. You scramble for your oversized sweater, yanking it over your head while trying to type one-handed.
You: this isn't funny
Haechan: it's a little funny
Haechan: do i say thank you? is this a secret santa thing?
You: how much
Haechan: ?
You: how much money to pretend this never happened
You: name your price
You can practically see him in his apartment, probably sprawled on his sofa in those ratty joggers he refuses to throw away, grinning at his phone in glory.
Haechan: bold of you to assume i can be bought
Haechan: but also
Haechan: 50 dollars
You: done
Haechan: per day
You: WHAT
Haechan: do you want my silence or not
Haechan: this is premium blackmail material
Haechan: i could dine out on this story for years
You pull the sweater down properly, the wool scratching against your skin where the lace still sits underneath. He's literally coming to your parents' house tomorrow for Christmas. You'll have to sit across from him at dinner, pass him the potatoes, pretend everything's normal while he knows exactly what you look like under your ugly sweater.
Haechan: although i'm curious
Haechan: who's the lucky recipient supposed to be
Haechan: anyone i know?
You: none of your business
Haechan: it literally became my business
Haechan: when you made it my business
Your phone starts ringing. His contact photo fills the screen with that stupid selfie he'd taken with your phone on Mark’s birthday last year, mouth full of roast potato, eyes crossed. You'd never bothered to change it.
You decline the call.
He rings again immediately.
"What," you answer through gritted teeth, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to conserve what little body heat you have left.
"You sound cold," is the first thing he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
"My heating's broken."
"Again? Y/N, it's literally freezing."
"Yes, well, I've had other concerns tonight."
He laughs and you can tell he’s delighted by the sounds of it. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all year."
"I'm so glad my humiliation brings you joy."
"I wouldn’t call it humiliation," he says. "More like... revelation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I didn't know you owned anything that wasn't either stolen from your brother or three sizes too big."
You pull the sweater over your knees. "I contain multitudes."
"Clearly." There's a rustling on his end, like he's shifting position. "So who's the guy?"
"I told you it's none of your business."
"Come on, I'm going to find out anyway. Your mom tells me everything."
He's right, which is infuriating. Your mother treats Haechan like the son she never had, even though she literally has two sons already.
"It's just someone from class," you mumble.
"That Jino guy? The one who looks like he irons his underwear?"
"No." You lie. Another con from knowing Haechan for that long is that he knows most of your situationships.
"Thank god. I was concerned about your taste."
"My taste is fine."
"Debatable, considering you just sent me—"
"That was an accident!"
"A fortunate one," he says.
You're about to respond when your phone buzzes with another message. For one horrible moment you think it's Jeno, somehow cosmically aware of your failure, but it's worse.
Mum: Did you hang up on me?
Mum: Haechan says he'll pick you up tomorrow since the buses aren't running
Mum: So helpful, that boy
"Did you just text my mother?" you accuse.
"She texted me first. Apparently you're being difficult about the wine."
"I hung up because I was having a crisis!"
"Past tense? Crisis over?"
You look down at yourself in the giant sweater, exposed legs slowly turning blue, hair probably resembling something from a horror film. "No, it's very much ongoing."
"Want me to come over?"
The question catches you off guard. "What?"
"Your heating's broken, it's Christmas Eve, and you sound pathetic. I'll bring mulled wine."
"Absolutely not."
"I'll even delete the photo."
You pause. "Really?"
"I don’t know, but you can try to convince me."
"I hate you." You groan.
"I know," he says, and you can hear keys jingling on his end. "See you in twenty."
"Haechan, no—"
He hangs up.
You gape at your phone in disbelief. This night has already careened so far off the rails that him showing up feels almost inevitable.
You look around your freezing apartment, at the poorly decorated tree leaning precariously in the corner, at the mountain of unwrapped presents for tomorrow, at yourself in your ridiculous combination of grandma sweater and inadvertent festive lingerie.
Your phone buzzes once more.
Haechan: might want to put on some pants before i get there
You pad to your bedroom, feet freezing on the hardwood floors, and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. The sweater hits mid-thigh, the red lace barely visible underneath, and your face has a flush that comes from both the cold and mortification.
The bells jingle mockingly as you search for pants.
You manage to find a pair of shorts and yank them on just as your doorbell rings. The man has never been on time for anything in his life except, apparently, your personal disasters.
You check the peephole and immediately groan. He’s standing there in a perfectly tailored coat, scarf knotted at his throat, holding what looks like two bottles of wine and a carrier bag, looking infuriatingly put-together for someone who just invited himself over at half nine on Christmas Eve. There’s a glint in his eye that you recognize all too well. He’s about to make your life miserable.
“I can see your shadow under the door,” he calls. “Just let me in before your neighbors think I’m casing the place.”
You open the door, and he breezes past you, bringing a swirl of cold air and the scent of cinnamon and clove. He sets everything on your counter, shakes snow from his hair and surveys your living room.
“Christ, it’s colder in here than outside,” he says, setting down the wine. “How are you not dead?”
“Layers,” you mutter, though the truth is you’ve barely stopped shivering since your little photo shoot. He starts unpacking his bag: two bottles of red, a battered thermos emanating the smell of mulled wine, a packet of mince pies, and—
“Is that a space heater?”
“Borrowed it from my next door neighbor.” He’s already crouched by the outlet, plugging it in and aiming it at the sofa. “He has his girlfriend over, so he won’t need this.”
You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone.
“Plus he felt bad when I told him about your situation.”
“You told him?”
“Relax, I meant your heating situation. Not your…” He glances at you, eyes skimming a bit too long over your form, “…other situation.”
You tug your sweater lower, warmth prickling up your chest for a different reason now. “Stop saying situation.”
“Would you prefer predicament? Circumstance? Mistake?”
“I’d prefer you forget it ever happened.”
He fiddles with the heater settings, then stands and looks at you.
“Bit difficult, that,” he says.
“Why?”
He turns away, busying himself with the wine. “Because in all the years I’ve known you, that’s the first time you’ve ever texted me something that wasn’t a complaint or a threat.”
“That’s not—” You cut yourself off, frowning. “... True.”
He grins, handing you a mug which you take with a scowl.
“Come on. You’re shivering over there.” He sits, patting the spot beside him.
You hesitate, but the heater and the wine conspire against your self-control, and you find yourself sitting next to him, careful to keep a gap. You wrap your hands around the mug, breathing in the spiced steam as the heat seeps into your frozen fingers.
“So,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Want to see something funny?”
“If it’s the photo—”
“No.” He scrolls. “It’s Jino—”
“Jeno”
“—whatever. His Instagram.” He tilts the screen your way. Row after row of gym selfies, every caption worse than the last.
“‘Grind never stops,’” you read, making a face. “‘Discipline is my love language.’ Oh my god.”
“That’s who you were sending nu—” he gestures, one eyebrow raised.
“Festive greetings. Shut up.”
He grins, holding the phone just out of reach when you lunge. “‘Muscles are built in the kitchen’? Come on, Y/N.”
“He’s nice!”
“He refers to himself as an alpha unironically.”
“How do you even—” You scramble closer, grabbing for the phone, nearly spilling your wine. The movement makes the bells under your sweater jingle faintly, and you freeze, feeling a flush creep up your neck.
“You're still wearing it?” His voice drops half an octave.
You freeze, caught like a goddamn rabbit under a hawk’s shadow. “I forgot it was there,” you lie.
He lets out a soft laugh. Not his usual smug, shit-eating grin. Darker.
“Yeah?” he says. “You forgot you’re sitting next to me in fucking lingerie?”
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. There was nothing to say.
He says nothing either, elbow on the back of the sofa, wine in one hand, and staring intently. His eyes drag across your face, your flushed cheeks, down to where your sweater bunches at your thighs, as if he could see the garter strap underneath. Like he remembered exactly what was in that photo, and now he was imagining it all over again—except this time, two feet away.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking away.
You want to make a joke, deflect, do anything besides sit there.
“Stop,” you say quietly, when he tilts his head and opens his mouth again. “Don’t make this into something.”
“Make what into something?” he asks, far too innocent.
“This. The... situation.”
His smile is sharp. “You mean the one you told me to stop saying out loud?”
You put your mug down before your hands could betray how hard they were shaking. “Yes.”
He glances at your knees. Then at your fucking sweater again, and the way you were pulling it lower, as if it could somehow shield you from how naked the air between you had become.
“Okay,” he says, sitting up, setting his own wine down. “Let’s not make it into something. Let’s just sit here, like we’re normal people, sharing some warm wine by a borrowed space heater. Let’s not talk about the fact that you’re wearing lingerie underneath that. Let’s pretend I didn’t spend the entire ride here wondering what the fuck I was walking into.”
You swallow. “You came over to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself further.”
He smiles.
“No,” he says. “I came over because I couldn’t stop picturing it. Because every time I blinked, it was just you, in that red fucking lace.”
A silent gasp leaves your parted lips. What’s with the sudden tension? Why is he saying these things?
“And then I get here,” he continues, “and you open the door like nothing and you’ve got this little sweater on, acting all flustered and innocent. Meanwhile—” his eyes drop again, “—you’re jingling every time you move. Teasing me.”
“Stop,” you say. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own.
“Why?” he asks, leaning forward now, elbows on knees. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But I’m losing my goddamn mind, and you're pretending this is some kind of accident.”
“It was.”
“You didn’t take that picture by accident. You didn’t pick out that set by accident. You didn’t forget to change.”
Haechan's gaze sharpens, pinning you in place as he leans back against the cushions. His eyes flick downward, catching the subtle movement under your sweater, and a smirk curled his lips.
The wine buzzes in your head, turning his words from mortifying to... intriguing. You feel a spark of defiance ignite, the alcohol stripping away your usual hesitation. Instead of shrinking, you meet his stare, tilting your chin up just a fraction. “What if I didn't forget,” you say, your voice steadier than you expected. You uncross your legs, letting the bells chime once more. You watch as his smirk falters for a split second, his pupils dilating.
Before you realize, he’s shifting closer until his knee presses against yours, the heat of his body radiates through his jeans. “Oh yeah?” Haechan's tone dips lower, teasing, turning predatory as his fingers brush the hem of your sweater, tracing the edge where it meets your thigh.
“So you sent me that photo on purpose, so I could what? Imagine peeling it off you all night?” His thumb grazed the skin just above your knee, circling slowly, sending sparks up your leg.
Emboldened by the alcohol’s warmth spreading through you, you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in a little, your hand resting on his thigh, fingers pressing into the firm muscle there.
“Maybe” you whisper, the alcohol making your inhibitions dissolve like sugar in hot liquid. You can feel the dampness building between your folds, the thong growing slick as his words paint vivid pictures in your mind.
Haechan's eyes darken, his free hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at the nape of your neck.
“Then you're playing a dangerous game.” His breath is warm against your skin as he leans closer. He tugs gently at the collar of your sweater, exposing the strap of your bra, the lace edge peeking out.
The heater drones, the bells jingle, and for a suspended, ridiculous instant you register every outrageous detail at once: Haechan’s palm splayed hot over your ribcage, the hiss of his breath against your sternum, him moving to kneel between your legs.
“Wanna play Monopoly instead then?” you blurt, because your default coping mechanism is apparently panicked jokes while half-naked.
He huffs a laugh against your skin, mouth still hovering indecent inches from your bra. “Pretty sure you I’d bankrupt you in ten moves.” His thumbs stroke slow circles over the lace, coaxing goose-bumps you feel all the way down to your calves. “And I’m more of a chess man anyway. I like long games.”
Long games. Wonderful.
You plant a shaky hand on his shoulder and manage a breathy, “You’re terrible at chess. You always forget the knights move in L-shapes.”
“Correction.” He kisses the edge of the bra, voice muffled. “I know exactly how the knights move. I just prefer a—” another kiss, lower, “—more aggressive opening.”
God. “Aggressive openings are u-unnecessary.”
“I can be patient.” He nips your sternum lightly, then leans back just far enough that cool air hits the damp spot his mouth left behind. “Though my patience has limits.”
You intend to reply but the sight of him kneeling between your knees steals the alphabet from your tongue. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown, but there’s wicked amusement still glinting at the edges.
He runs a fingertip down the center of your stomach, like marking squares on a board. “Here’s the thing… Every time these bells go off”—he flicks one, soft chime echoing—“I’m picturing exactly how you looked in that photo. Except now you’re warm under my hands”
“That’s… not helping,” you manage, hips tipping forward of their own accord. The bell rings again and he hums approval deep in his chest, as if the sound feeds him.
“Wasn’t trying to.” He nudges your knees wider, the gesture almost gentlemanly, except for the promise simmering beneath. “But since you’re so invested in fair play—”
He slips his free hand behind his neck, drags his scarf loose, then shrugs the coat off with theatrical slowness. Button by button, layer by layer, until the sofa swallows the fabric and he’s stripped to a black T-shirt that clings to lean muscle. You swallow. Hard.
“Your move,” he murmurs. “Want me to stop?”
It’s a genuine offer, a clear exit, but you can’t drag your gaze from the vein flexing in his forearm, can’t ignore the ache blooming low every time your garter shifts.
Instead of answering, you hook your fingers under the hem of your sweater and tug. Cool air kisses your ribcage, then warmer air, then Haechan’s stare, molten and adoring all at once. His lips part on a silent expletive.
“Shit—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Definitely a dangerous game.”
He stares at the red lace hugging your breasts, squishing them together so deliciously they seem about ready to burst from the confinement. The sight is a million times better than in the picture.
He leans in again, one palm settling on your knee, sliding upward with delicious inevitability.
“I thought you were a skilled player, show me then.” You breathe, and if he was restraining himself before, the words shred the leash.
He’s on you in a second, mouth reclaiming your lips, tongue tracing the seam until you open willingly, hungrily. His other hand skates up your spine, pushing you closer to him.
When he pulls back, both of you are gasping. “You realize,” he says, thumb brushing your kiss-swollen bottom lip, “there’s no walking this back.”
You catch the thumb with your teeth, bite just hard enough to watch his eyes flare. “Then let’s walk it forward.”
His laugh is low, reverent, almost incredulous. “Forward it is.”
He coaxes you onto your back, clothes discarded beside the lingerie, bells chiming faint approval.
“These bells,” he murmurs, thumb dragging against your skin, “are ridiculous.”
Your hand slides up his thigh, brushing the growing bulge in his jeans. “Don’t act like you don’t like them now.”
He inhales sharply, and his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek like he’s fighting a smile.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice rough with desire. “Keep that up, and I won't be able to stop at just teasing.” He hooks a finger under the garter, snapping it lightly against your skin.
You press your palm flat against his erection, feeling it twitch under the denim. “Who said I want you to stop?” you shoot back, your words slurring just a touch from the alcohol, but laced with intent.
The bells jingle as you move closer, your free hand tugging at his shirt to pull him toward you.
Haechan's control cracks then. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss again, his tongue sweeping in to claim yours, tasting of spiced wine.
His hand delves under your sweater, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then up to cup your breast through the lace bra, thumb rolling over your hardening nipple.
You moan into his mouth, arching into his touch. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck and nips at the sensitive skin while his other hand plays with the garter belt and the bells that dangle teasingly.
“These are fucking distracting,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his fingers plucking at one bell, making it ring out as he kisses lower, his mouth hovering over the swell of your breast. He tugs the bra cup down, latching onto your nipple with a wet suck that draws a sharp cry from you.
Your hands fumble with his belt. Boldness surges as you pop the button on his jeans and slide your hand inside to wrap around his thickening cock. He feels hot and hard in your grip, the veins pulsing under your fingers. You stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.
“Shit, yes,” Haechan groans, his hips bucking into your hand. He releases your nipple with a pop, his eyes locking on yours, wild and intense. “You're full of surprises tonight. That wine’s turning my good girl into a tease.”
He pushes you back against the sofa cushions, his body covering yours as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his fingers slipping between your thighs. They brush the edge of your thong, finding the soaked lace clinging to your core.
“So fucking wet already,” he teases, rubbing slow circles over your clit through the fabric. You grind against his hand, feeling bolder still, your free hand tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
“More,” you demand breathily, the wine stripping away any shyness. Haechan chuckles darkly, slipping the thong aside to trace your slick folds with two fingers, spreading your wetness without entering you yet.
He teases your entrance, while his thumb presses firmly on your clit, building the pressure until your thighs quiver. The bells ring out in a frantic melody as you writhe, your strokes on his cock growing faster.
He captures your wrist gently, pulling your hand away just enough to shed his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. Then he kneels between your legs again, hooking his fingers on the edges of the thong and pulling it properly to the side.
“Let's hear those bells one more time,” he says with a wicked grin, positioning you so your legs drape over his shoulders. His mouth descends, tongue flicking out to lap at your clit in long strokes, while his hands grip your ass, thumbs parting your cheeks slightly for better access.
You cry out, nails digging into the sofa, feeling every wet slide of his tongue, every suck that makes you clench around him. He delves lower, tongue thrusting into your entrance, fucking you with it shallowly as his nose bumps your clit. The tension coils tighter, your boldness shining through as you rock against his face.
“Haechan… don’t stop,” you gasp, one hand reaching down to tangle in his hair.
He growls in approval, the vibration sending jolts through you. Rising up, he frees his cock fully, stroking it once as he lines up with your dripping pussy. “You want this? All of me?” he asks, rubbing the head along your folds, coating himself in your arousal, prolonging the tease.
“Yes, please!” you urge, guiding him in with your hips.
He thrusts forward slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching you until he bottoms out, both of you groaning at the fullness. He pauses there, his hips flush against yours, letting you adjust to the thick length.
His eyes lock on yours, dark and intense, as he rolls his hips in a slow circle, grinding against your inner walls and brushing your clit with his pubic bone.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, voice rough, before pulling back almost all the way out, the drag of his cock against your sensitive spots making you whimper.
He slams back in with a sharp thrust, the impact jolting the sofa and setting the bells to a sharp chime. You arch up, meeting him, your hands clutching his shoulders as he finds a steady rhythm of deep, measured strokes that have him withdrawing to the tip before plunging back in.
The pace builds gradually, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you slightly, changing the angle so he hits that spot deeper inside you with every push. You moan loudly, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, urging him deeper. Sweat beads on his chest, glistening under the Christmas lights, and you can’t resist leaning up to lick a stripe across his collarbone, tasting the salt of him. He groans in response and speeds up, his thrusts turning harder, more insistent.
“Like that? Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he pants, one hand moving to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he fucks into you relentlessly.
The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure sparking with each grind, but it still isn’t enough. You need more, the edge hovering just out of reach. You buck your hips up to meet his, clenching around him deliberately, drawing a hiss from his lips.
“God, yes—keep doing that,” he demands, shifting his weight to hook one of your legs over his arm, opening you wider. This new position lets him drive even deeper, his cock stretching you to the limit with every brutal snap of his hips.
The sofa creaks beneath you, the bells a constant, erotic soundtrack, and you feel the pressure building, layer by layer, as he alternates between fast, shallow pumps that tease your entrance and long, slow drags that fill you utterly.
Your breaths come in gasps, bodies slick and sliding together, the room filling with the obscene sounds of your coupling, the squelch of your pussy gripping him, his grunts mingling with your cries. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he swallows your moans. Breaking away, he nips at your jaw, your neck, marking you with light bites while his free hand slips between your bodies to rub firm circles on your clit.
The dual sensation pushes you closer, your walls fluttering around his pistoning cock. “Haechan, I’m—fuck,” you whine, nails raking down his back and leaving red trails that make him thrust even harder in response.
He is close too—you can tell from the way his rhythm falters, his cock twitching inside you—but he is holding back, drawing it out, wanting to shatter you first.
“Come on, baby, let go for me,” he urges, voice strained, his fingers working your clit faster now, matching the relentless pace of his hips.
The bells chime wildly as your body tenses, the orgasm cresting slowly at first, then exploding in a rush that has you screaming his name. Your cunt clamps down hard, spasming in rhythmic pulses that milk his cock. Waves of ecstasy rip through you, making your vision blur and toes curl.
He follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a final, deep thrust, his release flooding you in hot spurts. “Shit—yes,” he groans, body shuddering as he pumps through it, prolonging both your highs until he has nothing left.
Only then does he collapse beside you, both of you panting, chests heaving. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your thigh, and the bells are finally quiet.
You wake up to several immediate regrets:
1. Your muscles are screaming in an everything-hurts-and-I-know-exactly-why kind of way.
2. Haechan is humming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" in your kitchen way too cheerfully for someone responsible for your inability to sit cross-legged ever again.
3. The bells are still on your floor, glinting like mocking little ghosts of choices past.
"Stop that," you croak from the sofa, your voice demolished. Wrecked. A casualty of making sounds you didn't know you were capable of.
He appears in the doorway holding two mugs, wearing your "Grinch Don't Kill My Vibe" pajama pants that sit criminally low on his hips. "Morning, jingles."
"Do not."
"Bells."
"Haechan—"
"My little Christmas miracle." He's grinning now. "My festive angel. My—"
"I will throw this pillow at you."
"Didn't get enough violence last night?" He sets the mug down, dramatically rubbing his shoulder. "I think you bit me at one point."
You take a shirt from the floor (his shirt, you notice) and put it on, trying to look like someone who isn’t sore in muscles they didn't know existed. "I can't go to dinner. I'll die. I'll burst into flames at the door. My mother will take one look at me and know."
"Know what?"
"That I—that we—" You gesture helplessly between you.
"Had athletic, boundary-destroying sex that made you reconsider your stance on atheism?"
"I hate you."
"You really don't." He sips his coffee. "Your neighbors might, though. Pretty sure Mrs. Chen heard you calling me—"
You slap a hand over his mouth. He licks it. You shriek and wipe it on his chest.
"Also," he adds cheerfully, "I texted your mom. Told her we'd be late because you had a 'wardrobe emergency.'"
"A what?"
"Well, I couldn't say 'your daughter can't walk properly because I rearranged her spine,' could I?" He flops next to you on the sofa, bouncing once to make you wince. "Though technically, the emergency is that you're not wearing much of a wardrobe."
"HAECHAN."
Half an hour later, you’re sitting in his car, gripping the door handle like you're about to jump out at a red light. He's connected his phone to Bluetooth and is purposely playing "Jingle Bell Rock" at low volume.
"I will end you," you mutter.
"You already did. My back looks like I fought a tiger." He shows you a glimpse of the scratches behind his shoulder, looking far too proud. "How do I explain these? 'Oh, these? Y/N just really loves Christmas?'"
"Tell them you fell."
"Into what? A wood chipper?”
You didn’t dignify his attempt at a joke with a response, already feeling less than willing to express any kind of positive emotion in this supposed jolly day.
Truthfully, you were not upset at Haechan. You were upset with yourself for letting things get to this point, and even more for actually enjoying it to the point where you keep replaying every moment of it in your head.
Suddenly you’re pulling up at your parent’s driveway and Haechan is turning to you with dancing eyes. "Here we are! Ready?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” He leans closer. “Try not to make that face when your mother asks how we slept.”
"LALALA CAN'T HEAR YOU." You scramble out of the car.
Your mother opens the door before you reach it, and Haechan immediately transforms into the perfect guest.
"Mrs. Y/L/N! You look radiant! Is that a new apron?"
"Oh, Haechan, you charmer!" She's beaming, completely taken in. "Come in, come in!"
He follows you in, and as you pass, he whispers, "You're walking like a baby giraffe."
"And you're about to die," you hiss back.
Haechan has positioned himself directly across from you at the table, which was a mistake because now he's making eyes at you over the roast potatoes.
"So Haechan," your father starts, "how's work going?"
“Great, sir.” He keeps his voice spotless while rolling a green bean in gravy in the filthiest way imaginable. “Just got promoted.”
Your mother claps. “Y/N, did you know Haechan was promoted?”
“No,” you say flatly. “We don’t update each other on our lives. That would require me speaking to him voluntarily.”
"I don't like to brag," Haechan interrupts smoothly. "Y/N's been very supportive though. Very... hands-on with her support."
You kick him under the table. He catches your foot between his legs and holds it there.
"That's nice," your mother says. "You two have been getting along better lately."
Mark snorts into his wine. "Since when?"
"Oh, we're getting along great," Haechan agrees, running his thumb over your ankle. "Really found our rhythm, haven't we, Y/N?"
You're trying to pull your foot back but he's holding it hostage. "R--right. Yes."
"In fact," Haechan continues, now massaging your foot under the table while maintaining perfect eye contact with your father, the absolute sociopath, "just last night we were discussing how well we work together."
"You were?" Mark asks suspiciously.
"Yes," Haechan continues cheerfully, now eating mashed potatoes in a way that brings back vivid sense memories of his tongue doing things to you, "we had a very thorough discussion. Covered all the angles. Really got into it. Deep into it."
Your wine glass shakes as you set it down.
"Multiple positions," he adds thoughtfully. " I mean on the subject, different positions on the subject."
"What subject?" your father asks, bless his oblivious heart.
"Life," Haechan says philosophically. "Passion. The importance of... tension and release."
You stand so abruptly your chair screeches. "BATHROOM."
You’re standing by your mother’s frost-covered roses, pressing your cold fingers to your burning cheeks, trying to make sense of the last eighteen hours. The marks on your neck throb faintly. Your thighs still ache. And somewhere between last night and this morning, Lee Haechan has completely rewired your brain chemistry.
This is the same boy who put green food coloring in your shampoo and called you “Grinchey” two Christmases ago. Same one you’ve spent years cultivating a careful, sustained annoyance toward, like tending to a particularly bitter garden.
So why can’t you stop thinking about him?
“Plotting your escape?”
You jump. He’s standing there with two pieces of Christmas pudding, looking unfairly good in his stupid Christmas sweater, the one your mom bought him two years ago that he actually kept. You’d made fun of him for it then.
“Plotting your murder, actually.”
“Aw.” He holds out a plate. “Peace offering?”
You take it, careful not to let your fingers touch his. Can’t trust yourself anymore, apparently.
“What was all that ‘we found our rhythm’ crap?”
"We did, though." He takes a bite of pudding, considering. "We should try more next time."
You turn to glare at him, but he’s not looking at you with his usual teasing smirk. Instead, there’s something softer in his eyes that makes your stomach drop in a way that has nothing to do with last night’s activities.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing. Just…” He sets down his plate, runs a hand through his hair. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
“Have sex on my broken sofa? Weird kink, but okay.”
“Y/N.” The way he says your name makes you look back. “I’m being serious.”
“Since when are you serious?”
“Since you walked into your parents’ house freshman year wearing that ridiculous reindeer onesie and told me my haircut looked like a hedgehog had died on my head.”
You blink. “That was ages ago.”
“Four years, three months, and roughly two weeks.” He’s studying the frozen roses now, purposefully not looking at you. “But who’s counting.”
“Why… why do you even remember that?”
He tilts his head, looking faintly amused at your confusion. “Why do you think?”
“…You’ve liked me since then…”
“Liked is a generous word for what I felt when you were being a pain in my ass.” He finally looks at you, and that vulnerability is back, the one that makes him look younger.
“But— but the girls you’ve dated are so different. I mean I’m not your type at all.”
“God you are so blind.” He chuckles incredulously.
Suddenly, you’re thinking about all the moments you’d dismissed. How he always brought your favorite snacks. How he remembered how you take your coffee and always made it better than anyone else. How he terrorized every guy you dated but played it off as "brotherly" concern.
“Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’re in love with me.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, trying for casual but failing entirely. “Surprise?”
“You’re in love with me and you let me send you that photo—”
“I mean it was an accident.”
“—and you came over and you brought wine and you fixed my heating—”
“Technically, I didn’t fix your heating—”
“—and then you fucked me on my sofa knowing you’ve been in love with me for FOUR YEARS?”
He winces. “When you put it like that, it sounds weird.”
“It sounds insane!” You’re pacing now, the pudding forgotten. “Who does that? Who just… sits on feelings for four years?”
“Someone whose best friend would murder them for touching his sister?” He catches your hand, stops your pacing. “Someone who was terrified of ruining the only excuse he had to see you? Someone who was willing to take whatever he could get, even if it was just annoying you at Christmas dinners?”
You stare at him. Past the jokes and the smugness and the playful torture. There’s Haechan, who drove over at 9 PM on Christmas Eve because your heating was broken. Who made sure you were warm and safe and… oh.
“I think I have feelings for you too,” you say, and it comes out accusatory. “Which is frankly inconvenient.”
His whole face changes. “Yeah?”
“I mean, I hated you twelve hours ago.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I strongly disliked you.”
“I don’t even think you believe that.”
“I…” You think about last night, how easy it was to let him in, how right it felt when he kissed you, how you’d wanted him to stay even after the sex. “You’re annoying and insufferable and you eat all my good snacks and—”
He kisses you, cutting off your spiral. Which you were secretly glad for because you were starting to miss his lips when they weren’t on yours. What the hell was happening?
“And?” he prompts against your lips.
“And I can’t stop thinking about you,” you admit. “Last night was… but even before that, you were everywhere. In my head. Under my skin. It’s extremely annoying.”
“Oh no,” he grins, “are you admitting you love me back?”
“I’m admitting you’re less horrible than anticipated.”
“Practically a declaration of love from you.” He pulls you closer, and you realize you’re not cold anymore. Haven’t been since he came outside.
"By the way, I still have your underwear in my bag."
"WHAT—"
He pulls back just enough to see your face. "Mark asked if I had a cat toy in there because of all the jingling."
"I'm taking everything I said back. And moving to Antarctica. I’m gonna be a penguin scientist."
"Penguins mate for life, you know."
"Not the kind I'll study. Mine will be commitment-phobic penguins."
He laughs softly and kisses you again. Soft and sure and nothing like last night's desperate heat. This is a promise kiss. A Sunday morning kiss. A forty-years-from-now kiss.
"Your family's taking bets," he murmurs against your lips, "on how long before we admit we're together. Your dad has Valentine's Day. Your mom's betting on New Year's. Mark, pessimistically, has next Christmas."
"And you?"
He grins, that playful grin that started this whole mess. "Oh, I already won."
"How?"
"Bet on Christmas Eve." He kisses you again softly. "I always had good timing."
From inside, Mark's voice carries: "ARE THEY KISSING?"
Your mother's response: "Leave them alone, they're having a moment!"
"WE'RE NOT HAVING A MOMENT," you shout back.
"Speak for yourself, jingles" He says loudly, "WE'RE HAVING A VERY EMOTIONAL MOMENT!"
"I swear to god—"
"Come on." He tugs you toward the house, fingers laced with yours. "Let's go inside before you freeze. Can't have you catching cold before our New Year's plans."
"We don't have New Year's plans."
"We do now. You, me, and the bells."
"I'm burning those bells."
"Please don't. They're sentimental to me now."
You let him pull you back into the warmth, where your family is pretending very badly not to stare, where Mark looks like he needs several shots of whiskey, where your mother is already planning what is clearly a wedding in her head.
You understand with perfect clarity that you're completely fucked. You're going to fall stupidly in love with Lee Haechan. Probably already have.
thank you for reading! any feedback is greatly appreciated! <3
summary: you marry a stranger in silk—his lips stained with blood and tradition. what starts as a marriage of convenience between a yakuza heir and a public figure spirals into something neither of you were prepared for: protection that tastes like devotion, duty twisted with longing, and kisses that come too late to be innocent. in a world where bullets speak louder than hearts, love might be the most dangerous vow of all.
pairing: yakuza heir!yuta x model fem!reader
genre: mafia/yakuza au, arranged marriage, slow burn, angst, romance, family legacy, redemption arc, forbidden desire, emotional healing, found family, power couple dynamic, smut-heavy, character-driven.
warnings: blood, gun use, mentions of injury, dom/sub dynamics, power play, mature themes, violence, blood, weapons, grief, guilt, trauma processing, complex power dynamics, yakuza activity, arranged marriage, emotional manipulation, emotional dependency, toxic loyalty, gender roles, tattoos/irezumi, canon-typical violence, knife imagery, psychological tension, mention of lingerie photos, political manipulation, clan dynamics, betrayal, male dominance themes (non-toxic), smut in later chapters.
wc: 12,1k
notes: hellooo!! i'm so excited because i seriously loved the idea for this fic and i spent two whole days writing it nonstop hahaha💀 i have to confess that the story had so much potential that i ended up preparing a second chapter and an epilogue🥹 also, i'm taking the chance to celebrate hitting 1k followers!!🥳🎉 i'll be posting them soon so stay tuned!! leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist 👇 thank you all so, so much for your support, i seriously adore you 😭🫶🏻 thank you for loving and enjoying my fics, i put so much love into them for you and it makes me so happy to know that you like them 🩷🩷
part ii. epilogue
taglist: special dedication to this anon.
@beestvng @bamtor1sss
osaka, japan — summer, 1995.
the streets of osaka never slept. even at midnight, they pulsed with a quiet rhythm — the flicker of neon lights, the hum of motorcycles in alleyways, the unspoken codes exchanged between men in tailored suits with tattoos hidden beneath white shirts. it was a city built on layers of tradition and violence, elegance and blood.
at the heart of it all stood nakamoto yuta.
he wasn’t supposed to be the head of the kansai syndicate. not yet. at twenty-eight, he was too young, too bold, too unpredictable in the eyes of the elders. but when his uncle — the revered oyabun — was assassinated in a dispute gone wrong, the family needed a name to rally behind. yuta had the bloodline. the legacy. and the audacity to wear the crown before it was polished for him.
his rise had been swift and ruthless.
they called him "the camellia snake" — beautiful, dangerous, impossible to read. he smiled with his mouth, not with his eyes. where his uncle led with honor and hierarchy, yuta ruled with precision and power. under him, the organization evolved. businesses bloomed. territories expanded. and those who doubted him learned to fear him.
but fear didn’t keep the police away.
by march, a whisper reached his ear: one of his shell companies — a modeling agency, ironically — had been flagged for financial inconsistencies. anonymous money transfers. duplicate bank accounts. income without origin. nothing damning yet, but close. too close. if the audit moved forward, questions would come. and yuta, for all his brilliance, had no clean answers.
the police weren’t idiots. they’d been watching. too young, too rich, too many homes, too many cars, too many women. they knew. they just needed a crack in the mirror.
“get married,” takuya said.
his second-in-command. older, level-headed. loyal since the days they’d fought with knives in parking lots. “marry a girl with a clean record. a civilian. preferably someone local. someone easy to explain.”
yuta stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “you want me to lie to the japanese government?”
takuya lit a cigarette, eyes narrowing through the smoke. “you’ve lied to worse.”
“i can handle this,” yuta muttered. “negotiate. bribe. threaten. same as always.”
but takuya didn’t flinch. “not this time. they’re smarter. they want to bury you, yuta. not just investigate you. a wife changes the story. you become a man protecting a family, not a criminal building an empire.”
he hated how logical it sounded.
it wasn’t about love. it wasn’t even about appearances. it was about strategy — the illusion of normalcy. the illusion that nakamoto yuta, feared oyabun of the kansai underground, was just a young man in love with his wife, running a few successful businesses to keep food on the table.
he refused, at first. of course he did. he didn’t do relationships, let alone legal ones. but then came the call — a low-level member, breathless, talking about his cousin. “she’s perfect,” he said. “twenty-three. a model. new in the industry. she needs exposure. you need a wife. she’ll agree if you ask.”
yuta didn’t answer. not immediately.
but that night, alone in his penthouse, staring out at the osaka skyline, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
a marriage of convenience. temporary. strategic. two strangers helping each other survive.
he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious.
he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t thrill him.
the studio smells like cigarettes and desperation masked with luxury perfume — the kind of place that pretends to be high fashion but rots from the inside. you’re standing in the middle of it, arms crossed over the thin silk robe they threw on you, jaw set like stone, fire smoldering in your eyes.
“i said no,” you bite, voice sharp enough to draw blood. “i’m not posing in fucking lingerie.”
people freeze. assistants pause mid-step, makeup artists exchange wary glances, and the photographer pretends to adjust his lens to avoid the tension thickening the air like fog. but they’re all waiting — for your manager to handle you.
hitoshi exhales the way someone does when they’re trying not to scream. “we already talked about this,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “it’s just lace. it’s not porn.”
you arch an eyebrow, slow, deliberate — the kind of look that used to make men melt and now makes them pray. “lace?” you echo with venom. “what part of ‘lace’ makes it okay to be half-naked on a cheap set so some sweaty assholes can jerk off to the catalog later?”
he flinches. good. but he doesn’t back down — you’ll give him that. he’s known you long enough to know you’re a storm, but he still walks into the rain.
“you signed a contract,” he reminds you, the words clipped and quiet. “we don’t have the money for legal shit, y/n. not now.”
you hate him for being right. hate the pit in your stomach, the taste of swallowing your pride. but most of all, you hate this world — the one where your beauty opens doors only to lead you into cages. you clench your jaw until it aches.
“fine,” you snap. “but if i see one of those photos on some sleazy magazine, i swear to god, hitoshi, i’ll make sure everyone in that room regrets being born.”
no one dares to breathe.
fifteen minutes later, you’re on set in nothing but black lace and stockings. your heels click against the floor as you move — slow, poised, deadly. you don’t pose, you dominate. your eyes burn through the camera lens like a challenge. they want sexy? they’ll get it. but not soft. not sweet. nothing about you is for free.
the next set is red. sheer bra, matching panties, white heels. you hate it. hate the way they look at you like you're a product. hate the heat under your skin that isn’t from the lights. you don’t even know where these photos will end up. probably sold to men with thick wallets and no self-control. the thought makes your stomach twist.
by the time you leave, your throat’s dry, your body aches, and your pride feels scraped raw. you slam the door of hitoshi’s beat-up toyota and fold your arms, staring out the window like it owes you something.
he doesn’t say anything. he knows better.
you came to osaka with nothing but a suitcase and fire in your blood. your parents were farmers in a dead-end village near nara — small, quiet, and too slow for someone like you. you always knew you were different. prettier. sharper. when the boys confessed their love at school, when the village chose you for beauty pageants, when you learned that your smile could buy things, you understood one thing: you were made for more.
so you left. for the city. for a future with lights and power and your name in people’s mouths. you stayed with your aunt — kind, clueless — and her son riku, who was trouble dressed in denim and secondhand cologne. only twenty-one and already tangled in shadows.
you never asked where the bruises on his knuckles came from. didn’t ask about the money he brought home, or the whispers on the phone late at night. his life wasn’t yours.
but that night changed everything.
you’d just slipped under your futon, the smell of setting powder and studio sweat still clinging to your hair. your body ached. your pride ached worse. you weren’t even sure what this was all for anymore — modeling? fame? the slow grind of selling yourself in pieces?
the knock at your door startled you.
sharp. insistent. not loud, but not calm either.
you sat up, frowning, crawling over to the sliding door and opening it just enough to peek out.
riku stood there. panting. pale. eyes wild.
“we need to talk,” he said.
your spine stiffened. you stared him down, unimpressed.
“what did you do?”
“nothing,” he lied too quickly. “just... just hear me out, okay?”
you didn’t move. your body was still. cold. waiting.
“someone wants to meet you,” he continued. “it’s important. serious. could change everything.”
you narrowed your eyes. “if this is about some fucking hostess job, i swear to god—”
“it’s not that,” he snapped. “this is... different. big. maybe dangerous.”
your stomach turned. not from fear — you don’t do fear — but from something colder. something real.
you didn’t say yes. not yet. but something shifted that night. something irreversible.
and you knew, deep down, that whatever was coming… it wouldn’t be something you could control.
not this time.
the room smelled of smoke, incense, and old leather — thick with heat from the summer bleeding through the cracked windowpanes. the shoji doors were shut, sealing the quiet inside, broken only by the soft sound of ice shifting in a glass and the subtle drag of a lighter sparking flame.
takuya stood with arms crossed, the rigid set of his shoulders mirrored in the furrow of his brow. yuta sat behind a lacquered black desk, half-shadowed by the golden glow of the hanging lamp above him. his red hair, slightly tousled, shimmered in the dim light — a harsh contrast to the dark ink crawling up his neck and arms, vanishing beneath the crisp sleeves of his black silk shirt, buttoned down just enough to glimpse the coils of dragons etched across his collarbones.
“we’re being watched,” takuya said, low and direct. “again.”
yuta didn’t look surprised. he never did.
he reached for the sake bottle near his elbow, poured into the small cup with graceful fingers tattooed in black kanji. the designs slithered with meaning, oaths made in blood. he drank slowly, as if considering the weight of every word that came next.
“and your genius solution,” he said, voice rough but eerily calm, “is for me to get married.”
before takuya could answer, riku stepped forward, his palms already sweating, his jacket too big, like a boy playing adult. he held something clutched in both hands — crumpled magazine pages, ripped roughly at the edges.
“not just anyone,” riku said, unfolding them with exaggerated care. “her.”
he laid them on the desk like an offering. photos of you — stretched in lace, seductive, sharp-eyed and radiant. black set first, your gaze commanding, then red — a different flavor of temptation. hair voluminous and curled, thighs wrapped in stockings, eyes cold and untouched. it wasn’t just sex appeal. it was danger wrapped in satin.
takuya blinked, barely disguising his surprise. he leaned forward slightly to examine the photos.
“where did you get these?” he asked.
“they’re from a catalog,” riku admitted, his voice too eager. “she just shot them a week ago. she’s my cousin. moved here from a town near nara, lives with my mom and me. she’s... she’s the most beautiful girl back home. people used to say she was blessed by the fox spirits. twenty-three, smart, proud... she’s probably still a virgin.”
yuta’s head turned — slow, deliberate.
his eyes, dark as a crow’s wing and twice as sharp, pinned riku like a nail to the floor.
“probably?” he echoed, voice like a blade.
riku swallowed, color draining from his face. “i... i just meant she’s not... she’s not like the others. she’s not easy.”
“watch your mouth,” yuta said, softly, but it landed heavier than a gunshot. riku bowed his head.
takuya cleared his throat and straightened his spine.
“i don’t think this is a joke,” he said. “the tip came from above the osaka division. someone’s pulling strings beyond our usual channels. if they open a formal audit, we’re fucked. this girl — a marriage — it makes you untouchable. at least for now. appearances matter. even in this world.”
yuta didn’t answer right away. he leaned back, eyes never leaving the photos, but unreadable behind the icy calm he wore like a second skin. the only movement was his thumb running across the edge of the page — just once — over the curve of your hip.
“and if she doesn’t agree?” he asked.
“she will,” riku blurted, then shrank under takuya’s glare. “i mean... she doesn’t know yet. but she will. she’s ambitious. proud as hell, yeah, but smart. she’ll see the opportunity.”
yuta tilted his head slightly.
“opportunity,” he repeated.
there was a silence then — long and thick. the kind that made men sweat and regret.
outside, a cicada screamed in the heat.
finally, yuta reached again for the sake. filled the cup. brought it to his lips.
“bring her tomorrow,” he said, setting it down. “at dusk.”
he looked up then — first at takuya, then at riku.
“and tell her to wear white.”
takuya nodded once. riku, visibly relieved, almost stumbled backward in his rush to bow.
as they left the room, the door sliding shut behind them, yuta looked back down at the photo still sitting on his desk. his fingers hovered over the image of you — red lace, pale thigh, that scowl on your face like you were ready to burn the world if it ever tried to touch you the wrong way.
he smiled — slow, dangerous.
“white,” he murmured to no one, then leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if trying to see the shape of fate through the plaster cracks.
the car wasn’t riku’s.
you knew it the second you saw it — black, polished, long, too luxurious for someone who still owed his mother rent. it looked like something out of a movie, the kind where people died halfway through and the boss never smiled.
you frowned as you slid into the passenger seat, the leather cold against your thighs, the hem of your short white dress riding up just enough to make you tug it down with nervous fingers.
“riku,” you asked, casting him a sidelong glance, “whose car is this?”
he didn’t meet your eyes. just gripped the wheel tighter, the metal of his cheap watch catching the evening sun.
“i’ll explain when we get there,” he said.
“you sound like someone in trouble.”
he didn’t laugh. that was your first clue.
the streets blurred past — familiar for a while, then increasingly foreign. houses turned to alleys, alleys to shadowed roads, until you found yourselves in a part of town you'd never even noticed on the map. old-fashioned, silent, wealthy in the kind of way that kept its secrets buried deep.
“ever heard of the nakamotos?” riku asked, voice low.
you shook your head. “no. who are they?”
he exhaled, like the name alone weighed something in his lungs.
“they’re... old blood. powerful. my uncle used to say they ran osaka before politicians even had names. people think they’re just a legend. but they’re not.”
“you’re talking about the mafia.”
“i’m talking about something older than that,” he corrected. “this isn’t like the shit you see in movies. they don’t wear suits and flash money in clubs. they wear silence. control. fear.”
you opened your mouth to ask him what the hell you were doing here when the car slowed.
he turned into a narrow stone path, flanked by perfectly trimmed hedges and lanterns that hadn’t lit up yet. at the end stood a traditional japanese house — wide, quiet, beautiful... and terrifying. the kind of place that wasn’t a home, but a domain.
the wooden gates opened without a word. two men stood guard — massive, bald, shirtless under their haori coats, with black ink swirling over their arms like sacred maps. their eyes followed the car without blinking.
your stomach tightened.
you knew those tattoos. old-style irezumi. yakuza.
riku parked, shifted the car into neutral. before you could ask anything, the door beside you swung open and his hand wrapped around your arm.
“come on,” he said, voice softer now. “and... don’t say anything unless spoken to.”
you stumbled out, the white heels you’d chosen digging slightly into the stone pathway before he hissed, “shoes off.”
quickly, you slipped them off, your bare feet meeting the cool wood of the engawa. your dress clung to your skin — tight, delicate, lace-trimmed with a little bow between your breasts. thin straps barely held it up, and the ruffled hem danced halfway down your thighs. it wasn’t the kind of thing you wore to meet strangers. especially not dangerous ones.
especially not him.
your curls spilled down your shoulders like a waterfall, wild and untamed. you felt their eyes on you — the men lounging inside, smoking in silence, watching you pass like a prize being paraded.
riku walked ahead, brought you before a closed shoji door, and then — without a word — dropped to his knees.
you blinked. “riku—”
he grabbed your wrist and tugged you down beside him.
“kneel,” he whispered.
your heart thudded hard as your knees touched the tatami.
the air inside felt heavier. sacred. strange.
riku cleared his throat. “nakamoto-san... i’ve brought her.”
a pause.
then a voice — low, smooth, commanding.
“enter.”
the doors slid open.
and there he was.
seated cross-legged behind a desk, bathed in golden light, red hair glinting like fire under the lamp. tattoos peeked out from the open collar of his black shirt, curling over the base of his throat like serpents. his eyes were the first thing you noticed — black, deep, emotionless. like looking into the sea at midnight.
he didn’t stand. didn’t smile. didn’t offer a single greeting.
he just looked at you.
like you were something being weighed.
and you — still on your knees, barefoot, trembling slightly in your white nightdress — felt it.
something shift.
like the world you knew had just ended at the doorstep, and whatever lay beyond was his to shape.
the room was quiet.
no clocks ticking, no voices murmuring beyond the walls. just the sound of your own breathing, unsteady and too loud in your ears, and the faint crackle of incense burning somewhere in the corner — sandalwood, rich and smoky.
he hadn’t said anything.
yuta sat there like a statue carved from shadow and fire, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to the elbows, revealing more of that swirling ink that marked him as untouchable. the tattoos weren’t flashy; they were traditional — dragons and chrysanthemums, waves crashing across his forearms like they were alive. his hair, a deep blood-red, was slicked back slightly, letting you see the clean, sharp line of his jaw, the slight scar on his brow, the disinterest in his eyes.
he looked at you like a man who didn’t waste time.
like someone used to getting exactly what he wanted.
and right now, his eyes were on you.
you sat on your knees, legs folded neatly under you just like riku had instructed. your white dress — thin, ribbed cotton that hugged your curves — felt suddenly far too revealing. the lace along the neckline dipped just low enough to expose a teasing amount of cleavage, delicate and feminine. a tiny satin bow rested between your breasts, and the hem of the dress stopped a few inches below your hips, ruffled and sheer at the edge. the room was warm, but your skin prickled.
your golden choker gleamed in the soft light, a simple band resting at the base of your throat like a brand.
and yuta noticed.
his gaze flicked to it, then back to your eyes.
you swallowed hard.
“you wore white,” he finally said, voice quiet but firm — the kind that made people listen the first time. “good.”
you glanced at riku, who kept his head bowed.
“stand,” yuta said.
your breath caught.
he wasn’t talking to riku.
you.
he meant you.
with shaky hands, you rose slowly, careful not to trip over the hem. your bare feet touched the cool tatami as you stood in front of him — exposed, nervous, but refusing to shrink.
yuta’s eyes roamed, slow and unapologetic. he took his time, letting the silence stretch as his gaze slid down your body — over the slope of your shoulders, the soft lines of your thighs, the little tremble in your fingers.
when his eyes finally returned to yours, something shifted in them. barely.
interest.
“turn around,” he said.
your cheeks flushed, but you obeyed.
you turned — slowly — letting him see the dip of your back, the way the thin straps clung to your skin, the curve of your ass under the short white dress. the silence behind you was heavy, and though he said nothing, you could feel his stare like heat down your spine.
then:
“enough.”
you turned back, your eyes meeting his once more. his expression hadn’t changed. unreadable. unreadable and yet so incredibly present, like he was already taking possession of something without needing to lift a finger.
“how old are you?” he asked.
“twenty-three,” you replied quietly.
his gaze narrowed slightly.
“virgin?”
your heart dropped. riku visibly tensed beside you, but didn’t say a word.
you didn’t answer.
yuta arched a brow.
“i asked you a question.”
you hesitated, voice barely above a whisper.
“yes.”
a pause.
yuta leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers wrapping around a ceramic cup of sake, lifting it to his lips. he drank slowly. thoughtfully. then set it down with a soft clink.
“good,” he murmured.
you didn’t know what that meant.
but you could feel it — your fate shifting under your feet.
“leave us,” he said.
just as riku began to bow his head to excuse himself, yuta raised his hand with a single flick of his fingers.
“call takuya,” he said, not taking his eyes off you.
riku froze for a second — like he’d forgotten something crucial. “yes, sir,” he mumbled, then bowed quickly and disappeared behind the sliding door.
and now you were alone.
alone with nakamoto yuta.
his eyes were darker now, more focused. he didn’t smile. didn’t move.
“come closer,” he said.
and something in you — something curious, frightened, and strangely drawn — obeyed.
as soon as the door slid shut behind riku, you exhaled, but it came out shaky — barely holding together the storm brewing inside you.
you turned toward yuta, cheeks burning. “what the hell was that question?” you blurted, voice tight and sharp, almost cracking.
he didn’t flinch.
he didn’t apologize either.
he simply looked at you like he was watching a child throw a harmless tantrum.
“i needed to know,” he said coolly, fingers tapping once against the rim of his sake cup. “that information changes things.”
your eyebrows shot up. “changes what?”
“your value,” he said, flat and emotionless.
the words hit you like a slap.
you blinked at him, stunned. “i’m not... some kind of—”
“i didn’t say you were,” he interrupted, still calm. still infuriatingly unbothered. “but where you’re going, who you’ll be playing... details matter.”
you pressed your lips together, heart pounding. his gaze was steady, unwavering. there was no cruelty in his tone — but also no softness. just facts. just business.
like you were already part of the machine.
“you’re here for a reason,” he said, sitting forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, gaze locked on yours. “riku says you’re smart. obedient. pretty enough to catch a man’s attention, but not enough to be seen as a threat.”
you almost flinched again. almost.
he noticed.
“don’t take it personally,” he added. “the role needs someone forgettable. invisible, at first glance. someone no one would look at twice — until it’s too late.”
you didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.
you were still kneeling, toes curled into the tatami, your white satin dress clinging lightly to your thighs. the hem brushed against your skin every time you shifted, your bare shoulders cold beneath the dim lantern light. the gold choker around your neck felt heavier now, like a chain instead of an accessory.
you finally turned to look at him. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
yuta leaned back in his seat, the tattoos along his forearms catching the light where the sleeves of his dark yukata had slipped. he looked at you like he was reading something only he could see.
“there’s pressure from the police. not just local. national,” he said. “they’re watching us. they want to bring me down.”
you blinked. “so... what does that have to do with me?”
his voice didn’t change. still cold. still even.
“if i marry a civilian woman — someone clean, untouched by our business — it changes the narrative. i stop being the yakuza heir. i become a husband. a man trying to build a quiet life.”
you stared at him.
“you want to marry me.”
“i need to,” he corrected.
“and you expect me to just—”
before you could reply, a soft knock echoed from the other side of the room.
“enter,” yuta called.
the sliding door opened quietly, and in stepped a man in his mid-thirties, sharp as a blade in both posture and gaze. he wore a dark suit with no tie, and even though his arms were hidden, you could still feel the same kind of power rolling off him as the men outside.
“this is takuya,” yuta said without looking at him. “the one who came up with the plan.”
takuya bowed briefly, his eyes scanning you once. no reaction. just cold calculation.
“pleasure,” he said flatly, then got straight to it. “we're currently facing heat from law enforcement. not just the division — higher up. there's a task force building a case. they’re using the press, community outreach, whatever they can. they want to paint yakuza like common criminals. it’s not just raids anymore. they’re aiming for image. public perception.”
you swallowed.
takuya continued, unfazed. “they need something scandalous to latch onto. something to justify pushing deeper. but if we give them a distraction — a different narrative — the pressure dies.”
he looked you in the eye now.
“a marriage,” he said. “to a local girl. innocent. untouched by crime. beautiful, with roots in a quiet town. the kind of story the papers love. the kind of woman that turns a red-haired, tattooed leader into a ‘reformed’ man.”
your heart skipped a beat.
“you want me to marry him?”
yuta’s silence confirmed it before either of them spoke.
“the marriage will be legal,” he said, bluntly. “we’re filing the papers through a lawyer we trust. it’ll hold weight. that’s the point.”
your breath caught.
“we need legitimacy,” takuya went on. “you’re the key to that. the girl from the countryside. beautiful. clean. no record. no history. the media will eat it up — especially when they realize you’re marrying someone like him.”
you looked down, at your dress — soft white, with lace trim over the chest and a satin bow between your breasts. the kind of thing that screamed innocence. riku had made you wear it. said it was yuta’s favorite color on women.
your cheeks burned.
“and what do i get?”
“money, comfort, protection,” takuya said immediately. “you’ll live in comfort. you’ll be kept safe. no one will touch you. not the police. not enemies. not even our own men without permission.”
his gaze hardened. “money. more than your village’s mayor makes in a year. and attention. the kind you can use.”
you glanced at yuta, who was watching you with unreadable eyes. the flames of the oil lamp caught the glint of the gold chain around your neck and the soft shine of your white satin dress, making you look even more delicate — and out of place.
you were barefoot, knees pressing into the tatami, curls spilling down your back like ink on silk.
“so... i’m supposed to pretend to be your wife,” you said, eyes locked on yuta now. “while you do what, exactly?”
he finally spoke again.
“live,” he said. “lead. and make them believe i’ve changed.”
you weren’t sure if it was insane or brilliant.
but deep down, something about the idea — the promise of safety, of being wanted in such a specific, strategic way — pulled at a place inside you that you weren’t ready to name yet.
you didn’t look at takuya when he bowed out, only waited until the door slid shut behind him. silence fell again, thick like smoke in your lungs. you hated it — being spoken about like an asset. like a pawn on some expensive chessboard. like a clean little civilian girl they could dress in white and parade in front of the press.
you crossed your arms.
“you’re a fucking piece of work,” you said, eyes locked on him. “you don’t even ask. you just... tell me i’m getting married. to you. like i’m supposed to be flattered.”
yuta tilted his head. his eyes — those cruel, unreadable eyes — didn’t move from yours.
“if you weren’t angry,” he said slowly, “i’d be disappointed.”
“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“it means i don’t need a quiet, obedient wife,” he said. “i need someone with fire. someone who doesn’t flinch when men like me enter a room.”
you scoffed. “so you want a wife or a weapon?”
he smirked — just barely. almost not at all.
“both.”
you stood, not bothering to hide the defiance in your posture. your dress flowed around your legs as you stepped closer, barefoot, jaw tight.
“i come from a farm in fucking wakayama,” you snapped. “my parents grow vegetables and wake up before the sun. i crawled out of that life by sheer force of will. i didn’t come to osaka to be anyone’s doll.”
he watched you with an unnerving calm. your temper didn’t faze him. if anything, he seemed... intrigued.
“then don’t be a doll,” he said. “be the woman who stood next to the devil and didn’t blink.”
your chest rose and fell. the white choker around your neck suddenly felt suffocating.
“and what do you get out of this?” you asked. “besides a pretty distraction.”
“peace,” he replied, finishing his sake. “for now.”
you stared at him, still furious — but your fury no longer felt out of place. it felt... necessary. expected. wanted.
he stood slowly, and you couldn’t help but notice the curve of muscle beneath the dark fabric of his yukata, the tattoos peeking out over his chest and wrists like whispered warnings. like stories he didn’t need to tell with words.
he came closer, and stopped just short of your space.
“tomorrow,” he said. “we’ll register the marriage. we’ll make it real.”
your heart thudded — not with fear, but with something heavier. something hotter.
“wear white again.”
“you’re a controlling asshole,” you muttered.
he leaned in, just enough that you could feel the ghost of his breath against your temple.
“good. you’re learning.”
you didn't sleep the night before.
not from fear — you weren’t some trembling girl marrying her first crush. it was the sheer weight of it. the permanence. the fact that when you woke up the next morning, you would legally belong to the red-haired devil with tattoos snaking across his chest. the one who barely flinched when you cussed at him, who told you to wear white like it was some kind of silent power game.
riku arrived at dawn in a black car — another luxurious model that reeked of expensive leather and cigarettes. in the back seat was a garment bag, pristine and white, and a lacquered box wrapped in silk.
“these are from yuta,” he said, handing both over carefully. “he said to wear the western one for the ceremony.”
you pulled the zipper down.
the wedding gown inside looked like it had stepped out of a bridal magazine. dramatic off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, pearl buttons down the back, and a full, billowing skirt that would swallow your legs whole. the lace was delicate, vintage, almost royal. your fingers hesitated at the embroidery.
“jesus christ,” you muttered. “this must’ve cost a fortune.”
“probably did.” riku rubbed the back of his neck. “he doesn’t half-ass anything.”
you didn’t respond, only moved to open the silk-wrapped box next. inside: a traditional shiromuku kimono — heavy white silk with detailed cranes and chrysanthemums embroidered in silver thread. beneath it, folded with exact care, was a note in black ink.
you’ll wear this tonight. we need photos for the papers. — n. yuta
you rolled your eyes and slammed the lid shut.
the ceremony was held at a historic ryotei garden estate outside osaka. the kind of place used for tea ceremonies and old-money weddings. white lanterns floated on the koi pond, and flower arrangements shaped like clouds lined the stone walkway leading to the altar.
your heels clicked sharply against the path, dress trailing behind like a whisper. makeup perfect, lashes heavy, lips painted a soft cherry red. around your neck, a thin golden choker — delicate, expensive-looking, chosen by someone with taste. your hair was still curled and loose, spilling down your back in waves like the night before.
you held your head high. eyes straight ahead.
the photographers swarmed the entrance. local reporters lined the gate. and there he was — standing at the altar in a black montsuki haori, crimson hair tied loosely back, tattoos just barely visible where the robe dipped at the collar. yuta nakamoto looked like a villain out of a storybook. untouched. untouchable.
you stopped beside him, and only nodded once.
he didn’t smile. didn’t blink.
only said, “you look beautiful,” without moving his lips too much.
“you better,” you muttered, “after dropping this much cash.”
the ceremony was both legal and traditional. papers signed first, in front of witnesses — then the vows, recited with low, steady voices. you said them with a precision that almost sounded sarcastic. yuta repeated his in a tone that made the back of your neck tingle. like he was promising more than the words on the paper.
when the priest announced the kiss, you almost flinched. but the cameras were already flashing.
you turned.
you placed a hand on his chest.
and you pulled him in — slow, confident, unflinching. lips pressed to his with calculated pressure, just enough to look like passion, just enough to keep your pride intact.
he didn’t pull away. his mouth stayed still for a second longer than necessary. enough to make you feel heat bloom low in your stomach.
you stepped back first. wiped the edge of your lip with a fingertip. smirked like a queen who always won.
the reporters clapped. someone whistled. riku looked like he wanted to throw up.
you didn’t look at yuta again until after the ceremony, when he leaned in close during the photo op and said under his breath, “i knew you’d make it look good.”
you didn’t answer.
but part of you hated how your heartbeat stuttered anyway.
the reception was held back at the traditional house — the one you'd visited with riku only the day before. everything felt familiar, but colder now. more official. more yours.
the room smelled of sake, tobacco, and incense. a soft string quartet played somewhere in the background, a luxury reserved only for special occasions in this part of the country. long tables were filled with men in black suits, most of them tattooed beneath the fabric, their voices low and respectful. the atmosphere wasn’t celebratory — it was ceremonial. serious. like the birth of a deal.
you sat beside yuta on a low wooden bench, legs tucked beneath your heavy white kimono, the weight of the fabric grounding you. yuta had changed into a darker formal haori — simple, elegant, his hair still tied back, a few strands falling around his face. you tried not to glance at him too often. he didn’t speak much, only nodded at greetings, poured you a cup of tea when the cameras weren’t looking.
the group photo was taken near the engawa, under a blossom tree, everyone lined up behind you both — riku awkwardly stiff behind you, takuya beside him with arms crossed, unreadable. yuta’s hand rested lightly on your knee for the shot. your posture was perfect. expression unreadable.
then came the second photo — just the two of you. you stood side by side on the engawa, backs straight. he tilted his head just slightly toward you, eyes calm. you didn’t lean into him. not yet. but your hands brushed once.
you hated that your skin remembered it.
later that night, in the room they had prepared for you both — a wide, clean space with tatami floors and a low table still holding untouched tea — you sat at the edge of the futon, kimono folded neatly beside you, hair pinned up. your western dress had been carefully stored away. the silence stretched between you and yuta like a tight wire.
he stood by the window, back to you, sleeves rolled up slightly to reveal part of the ink on his forearm.
“you should tell your parents,” he said suddenly, voice calm. “so they don’t hear it from someone else.”
you blinked. “i will. but it’s not that easy.”
he turned slightly toward you. “why not?”
you gave him a tight smile. “you forget where i’m from, city boy. that town barely has working lights. my parents don’t have a landline.”
he paused. then, slowly, walked to a small desk in the corner and pulled out a set of paper, brush, and ink.
“write a letter. i’ll send someone to deliver it in person.”
that startled you more than anything.
“…seriously?”
“i don’t joke about family,” he said, gaze steady. “especially now.”
you didn’t know what to say to that. instead, you took the paper and sat cross-legged to write. your fingers trembled slightly at the start, but you found the words. told them you were safe. told them you were married. left out the politics.
you left out the man standing by the window again, quiet as a ghost.
after you sealed the envelope, yuta finally stepped closer. but he didn’t reach for you. didn’t touch you.
“you’ll sleep here,” he said, voice low. “i’ll take the room next door. just for tonight.”
you looked up at him, surprised.
“what, not going to consummate the deal?” you asked dryly.
his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. “you’re not a deal.”
you held his gaze a second too long. then turned away.
“…thanks,” you muttered.
he paused by the door, then added, “you looked strong today. people noticed.”
you snorted. “damn right they did.”
he left without another word.
you lay back, eyes wide open. married. protected. still you.
and for some reason, that scared you more than anything else.
you woke up to the smell of garlic and soy sauce.
it was a gentle aroma, not overwhelming, but enough to stir you from sleep as sunlight trickled through the wooden blinds. you stretched beneath the soft, white sheets, the unfamiliar futon beneath you barely creaking. your limbs were heavy with yesterday’s weight — the ceremony, the stares, the quiet glances exchanged in front of too many eyes.
slipping out of bed, you pulled the red silk robe from the edge of the futon, tying it lazily around your waist. it clung to you with that subtle sheen, smooth against your bare legs. your hair, still slightly tousled from sleep, was swept into a loose bun, a few strands curling at your nape. barefoot, you padded quietly down the hallway.
you found the chef in the kitchen — a tall, polite man with graying hair tied at the nape. he bowed when he saw you.
“good morning, miss. breakfast will be ready shortly.”
you blinked at the formality, then cleared your throat. “where’s yuta?”
he didn’t look up from the pot he was stirring. “the young master is in his office.”
of course he is.
you murmured a quiet thank you before turning and making your way down the same corridor from last night — where yuta had disappeared into quiet work and you had gone to bed alone.
you knocked once. no answer. you slid the door open.
yuta was seated behind a long wooden desk, papers laid out in front of him, a cigarette resting on a small tray by his elbow. he glanced up when he saw you — and something in his gaze caught, like a moment of surprise he didn’t know how to mask.
you were barely dressed for conversation. the robe hugged your waist too perfectly, a flash of your leg peeking out as you shifted your weight. your lashes curled softly above your half-lidded stare, arms crossed beneath your chest. you didn’t try to hide how comfortable you looked. or how dangerous that made you seem.
“i need to make a call,” you said simply. “it’s important.”
he nodded once, motioning toward the landline on the sideboard.
“go ahead.”
you paused. “can i have privacy?”
that earned you a look — half amusement, half disbelief. then, without a word, he stood and walked past you, sliding the door closed behind him.
as soon as the click echoed in the room, you exhaled. you opened the small leather agenda you always kept in your bag — fingers flipping to the back page where hitoshi’s number was scribbled in your handwriting.
you dialed. it rang twice.
“y/n?”
his voice was frantic, breathless. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you for days—i even came by your aunt's house. it’s empty. what the fuck is going on?”
you bit your lip. “…i got married.”
silence.
then—
“WHAT?”
you pulled the phone slightly away from your ear.
“what do you mean married? married to who?! when? are you even—y/n, are you conscious of what you’re doing?! you have a career, a whole future about to start. you can't just—”
you cut him off gently. “look at the news, hitoshi. or tomorrow’s papers. the answer’s there.”
“but—why?!”
you leaned against the wall, voice calm. “because it was necessary.”
he was pacing. you could hear it in the rhythm of his breath. “y/n, you have contracts. endorsement deals pending. you know what the clauses say—you’re supposed to be single.”
you sighed. “don’t worry about the money. that’s not a problem anymore.”
his voice dropped. “what does that even mean?”
you didn’t answer that.
instead, you softened. “i’ll explain in person. let’s meet soon, yeah?”
after a beat, he agreed. you hung up quietly.
then, without turning, you said, “you can come back in.”
the door slid open slowly.
yuta stepped inside, eyes lingering on your silhouette — the curve of your hip, the smooth dip of your shoulder beneath the robe. your nails, painted white, contrasted sharply with the red fabric as you crossed your arms. you looked the part now. a dangerous, elegant wife. someone who belonged in a room like this — and maybe even someone who could command it.
his voice was lower this time. unreadable.
“who’s hitoshi?”
you raised an eyebrow. “what, jealous already?”
his jaw tightened. “just answer.”
“he’s my manager,” you said firmly. “and i needed to let him know about this situation.”
“you seemed close.”
“don’t start,” you warned, stepping forward, your tone sharp, impatient. “not everyone in my life is someone you need to size up. especially not him.”
he stared at you a moment longer.
and then, quietly — like it surprised even him — he said,
“…you look like you were made for this.”
you didn’t reply.
but you didn’t look away either.
you ate breakfast with your legs crossed under the wooden table, the silk of your red robe brushing softly against your thighs. the chef had prepared grilled fish, miso soup, rice, and a delicate tamagoyaki roll — a traditional spread that felt both luxurious and grounded, like something too refined for a newlywed girl still adjusting to this new life. you picked at your food in silence while the staff moved quietly around you.
yuta joined you ten minutes later, dressed in a dark pinstriped yukata, his sleeves loose, the scent of cologne and cigarettes lingering faintly as he sat across from you. he didn’t say much. didn’t need to. the silence between you wasn’t cold — not quite — but it felt suspended, like a string pulled tight between two people who hadn’t decided what this thing between them was going to be.
you finished eating first. he watched you dab at your lips with the napkin, watched the subtle way you moved, always confident, always so sure of your space in the room. you weren’t the type to wilt, not even under a house full of men who whispered your name like a warning.
“i’ll be in my office,” he murmured as he stood.
you only nodded.
the days passed with a strange kind of rhythm. mornings were quiet — breakfast, then long hours where you wandered the compound’s grounds or stayed in your room, reading, journaling, waiting. there were training sessions in the garden, men bowing to yuta like he was a god, and you saw it clearly now — what kind of man he really was. the way they followed him. the way even takuya never questioned a command. you were living in the center of something vast and ancient and quietly violent, and yet… you didn’t feel afraid.
not really.
yuta treated you with distance, but not cruelty. he gave you space, but not indifference. and in the quiet moments — a shared glance at dinner, the brush of his fingers when handing you a cup of tea — there was something else, something harder to define. tension, yes. desire, maybe. but also… possession. like he was slowly convincing himself that you weren’t just here for the show.
you noticed it most when riku came to inform you of your meeting with hitoshi.
“i’ll drive you there,” he said, pulling keys from his coat pocket. he led you outside to where a glossy black toyota century sat gleaming beneath the trees — a 1994 model, clearly imported with care. it looked like power and old money. when the door opened for you, you slipped inside with practiced ease, dressed in a simple black fitted skirt and a white blouse, minimal makeup, but still polished.
yuta stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching.
“she said he’s her manager,” takuya said from behind him, tone casual. he was smoking again, the end of the cigarette glowing orange in the dusk. “why are you so tense?”
yuta didn’t answer at first. his gaze stayed locked on the vehicle, unmoving.
takuya smirked. “don’t tell me it’s jealousy. i thought this was just a business arrangement.”
yuta’s jaw flexed.
“it’s not that.”
“hm,” takuya exhaled. “then what is it?”
“i’m a man,” yuta said simply, his voice low and firm. “and she belongs to me now. any man would hate the idea of someone else touching what’s his.”
takuya gave a short, quiet laugh. “you’re not very good at pretending, you know.”
the car pulled away.
inside, you kept your eyes forward, legs crossed, fingers resting lightly on the leather seat.
“are you nervous?” riku asked, his voice softer than usual.
“no,” you said simply. “but he might be.”
the meeting spot was a quiet café tucked in a side street near the train station. it was almost empty — just a few people scattered inside. you stepped out of the car and walked in like you owned the place.
hitoshi stood as soon as he saw you.
his expression was pure disbelief.
you sat down without a word.
“…you really went and did it,” he said eventually. “you married someone. just like that.”
“i told you,” you said, tilting your head. “you could’ve checked the papers.”
“oh, i did. believe me, i did.” he ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “but nothing in those headlines explains why. or who. they only say that you married into the nakamoto family, and if you think i don’t know what that means—”
“you’re overreacting.”
“am i?” he leaned forward. “y/n, do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into? these men aren’t just businessmen. they’re criminals. this… this is dangerous.”
you met his gaze evenly.
“i’m safe.”
he scoffed. “he’s got you brainwashed already.”
“hitoshi—”
“no,” he cut in. “you can’t just throw your career away for this. you had a film audition next month. a music contract on the table. i worked for those.”
your voice dropped. “i didn’t ask you to.”
his face froze.
you leaned back slowly, expression unreadable.
“you’re good at your job,” you said, eyes narrowing slightly. “but you don’t own me.”
he stared at you. your tone was cool, sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. it was the version of you he rarely saw — the version you hid beneath stage smiles and rehearsed charm. the version that came out when you were pushed.
he sat back.
“…so, what now?” he asked. “you going to disappear into his shadow forever?”
you smiled faintly.
“i don’t disappear, hitoshi.”
he watched you for a long moment.
“…i want you to be happy,” he said finally, quieter now. “but i just hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”
“i do.”
he nodded.
then, reluctantly, “i’ll wait for you to call.”
you stood, and he didn’t try to follow.
when you returned to the car, riku opened the door for you again. the ride back was silent. you stared out the window, your reflection ghosting across the glass.
yuta was waiting when you arrived.
he didn’t speak right away.
but his eyes moved slowly over your figure — your blouse now slightly unbuttoned from the heat, the black skirt hugging your hips, your heels clicking softly against the wooden floor as you stepped inside. your hair was tied in a neat twist. you looked untouched. but not untouchable.
“how was it?” he asked at last.
“expected,” you said.
he didn’t respond.
so you turned, arms crossed, leveling him with a look.
“don’t look at me like that.”
his brow lifted. “like what?”
“like you think he’s more than what he is.”
“and what is he?”
you tilted your chin.
“not your problem.”
the corner of his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. not quite anything.
he stepped forward until you could smell his cologne again, feel the weight of his presence wrapping around you like gravity. you didn’t move.
“you’re mine,” he said simply, his voice low, almost soft. “whatever this started as… it doesn’t change that.”
you met his eyes without flinching.
“then act like it.”
you stepped past him, your heels clicking down the hallway like a challenge.
he watched you go — and for the first time in days, he didn’t know whether to follow or fall harder.
the soft knock on the door came just as you were adjusting the strap of your black dress in front of the mirror. the fabric clung to your body like it had been molded for you, emphasizing every curve, every subtle sway of your hips. lips painted red, a delicate gold chain around your neck, hair styled effortlessly to frame your cheekbones—you were the picture of elegance. the kind of elegance that didn't ask for attention, but demanded it nonetheless. when you opened the door, yuta stood there, his dark eyes sweeping over you with an unreadable expression. the faintest smirk curled on his lips.
“you’re ready,” he said, his voice deep, smooth like aged whiskey.
you nodded. “always.”
it was the first time you stood beside him like that—visibly, publicly, as his wife. the police visit had been scheduled days ago, supposedly a routine check. they had heard whispers, rumors about illegal movement, weapons, maybe more. but when the door opened to reveal you—immaculate, poised, clean as paper—their tone shifted. and when they saw the documents, the legal marriage certificate, your name listed as the new owner of multiple boutiques and cosmetic shops around the city, they exchanged glances.
“mrs. nakamoto?” the inspector had asked, uncertain, skeptical even.
you nodded politely. “yes. is there a problem?”
he glanced at the paper again, then at yuta, who remained calm, arms crossed, watching the interaction in silence. eventually, they left. the marriage had erased all suspicion, at least for now. your spotless reputation had become a shield, and yuta had used it like a blade.
that night, as you stood alone on the engawa of the traditional house—the same one you were brought to the first time—watching the moon dip behind the clouds, something inside you felt hollow. it wasn’t about the marriage. it wasn’t about the danger. it was the way he hadn’t come home.
you didn’t want to admit it, but his absence gnawed at your nerves. the house felt too quiet, too still. the shadows stretched in strange ways. your heartbeat was louder than the wind rattling the trees. you remained near the front, robe tied tightly around your waist, sandal-clad feet tapping restlessly against the wooden floor.
a screech of tires shattered the silence.
your body tensed, instinctively stepping toward the door. “yuta?” you called out, voice unsure.
“don’t turn on the lights,” he growled from the darkness, his voice uneven. strained. almost guttural.
you froze, your breath caught. “what—what happened?”
his silhouette appeared under the dim light of the porch. he stumbled, one hand pressed hard to his side, the other braced against the wall. he was bleeding. thick, dark liquid was spreading across his shirt, staining it in ominous blotches.
“yuta—oh my god.” you rushed forward, catching him as he lost balance. your arms wrapped around him, struggling to hold up his weight. something warm and wet seeped through your robe, making your skin crawl.
“it’s fine—just... just a scratch,” he muttered, clearly lying.
“shut up,” you hissed. your fingers trembled as you pressed them against the open wound. blood poured out over your hands, slippery and terrifying. you couldn’t see clearly. your head spun. you were shaking, overwhelmed, but you weren’t going to let him die here.
you pulled off your robe, leaving yourself in nothing but your underwear, and pressed the fabric hard against his abdomen. “stay with me, do you hear me? stay the fuck with me.”
his eyes moved to you, barely focused. but they lingered. his bloodied fingers brushed your arm, slow, reverent. “you look like a damn goddess,” he whispered, his breath hitching.
“you’re delirious,” you snapped, voice cracking.
you bolted into his office, found the notebook with contacts, and dialed takuya with shaky fingers. “it’s bad,” you said as soon as he picked up. “he’s hurt—stabbed—bleeding. hurry, please.”
minutes later, engines roared into the driveway. several men stormed inside. one, enormous, bald and covered in tattoos, barked orders. “get him in the car. now!”
you stood frozen, blood staining your legs, your stomach, your hands. you hadn’t even realized you were crying until takuya’s hand cupped your shoulder. “he’s gonna be fine. it’s not his first time.”
your head snapped toward him, anger flashing through your tears. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean? like that makes it okay?”
he sighed. “you married a yakuza boss, sweetheart. this... this is the life.”
they carried yuta out on a stretcher, still conscious, his eyes locked on you until the car doors slammed shut.
you ran to your room, changed into the nearest jeans and a sweatshirt, your skin sticky, heart pounding, nerves frayed. you were supposed to be used to this. you weren’t. you never would be.
but you’d made a choice. and for better or worse, this was your world now.
“you’re not coming with us,” takuya said firmly, standing between you and the door like a wall. “we don’t know if it’s safe. the ones who did this could still be out there.”
you clenched your jaw. “i don’t care.”
he sighed, exasperated. “you should. if something happens to you, he’ll lose his fucking mind. he’s already half-dead—don’t give him another reason to bleed out.”
just then, another man stepped inside the house, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black coat soaked at the hem. his eyes flicked briefly to you—blood still crusted on your arms—before turning to takuya.
“send a team,” the man said coldly. “find the ones responsible. they laid hands on the boss—i want heads rolling before sunrise.”
your heart skipped. the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. these men didn’t play. and neither did you.
takuya stepped aside, distracted by his phone. in that split second, you slipped past him and out the door.
your legs carried you before your fear could stop you. you flagged the first car outside and ordered the driver to take you to the hospital. he hesitated at first, but the blood on your body, the tremble in your voice, and the fire in your eyes convinced him otherwise.
the ride felt endless. your thoughts spiraled. images of yuta, pale and breathless, leaning on you like he had nothing left to give. the way his blood soaked your robe. his whisper: you look like a damn goddess. you pressed your hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but it only made you more aware of the ache blooming inside.
the hospital was surrounded—unmarked cars parked along the curb, men in black stationed near the entrance like statues. you walked past them, eyes forward, not daring to look weak. no one stopped you. maybe they recognized you. maybe they just knew better.
when you reached the emergency wing, takuya was already there. he turned sharply when he saw you, brows drawn tight.
“you don’t fucking listen.”
“and you don’t get to keep me away from him,” you snapped. “i’m his wife, remember?”
he hesitated.
“where is he?” you demanded.
after a long pause, he pointed down the hall.
room 304.
you stepped in quietly. the lights were dim, the room cold and too clean. yuta lay in the bed, shirtless, wrapped in gauze, an IV attached to his arm. bruises spread like ink under his skin, and the bandage around his abdomen was already faintly stained.
he looked up when he heard the door click. his lashes fluttered, expression softening as he saw you.
“you’re here.”
“of course i’m here,” you said, voice cracking. “i wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.”
his head rolled slightly on the pillow. “told you not to come.”
you approached slowly, sitting at the edge of the bed. your fingers brushed his, and his hand immediately gripped yours, tight, desperate.
“they’re looking for them,” you whispered. “the ones who did this.”
he hummed. “i figured.”
you stared at him, really stared. even beaten and bruised, he was still beautiful. painfully so. his lips were cracked, his hair damp with sweat, and yet when he looked at you like that—like you were the only light in the room—something shifted in your chest.
“you could’ve died,” you said, barely above a whisper.
“i didn’t.”
“you’re not invincible, yuta.”
his thumb traced your knuckle, slow and deliberate. “i’ve survived worse.”
“doesn’t mean i want to watch you do it again.”
he blinked slowly. “are you worried about me?”
you looked away, ashamed by how quickly your throat closed up. “of course i fucking am.”
a silence settled between you, charged and heavy. then, softly, he tugged your hand.
“come here.”
you hesitated, then shifted closer until you sat beside his torso. his free arm moved, gently pulling you down, guiding your head to his shoulder. you melted into him, careful of the bandages, heart thudding wildly in your chest.
“you smell like blood,” he murmured against your temple.
“your blood.”
he exhaled, a sound between a laugh and a groan. “you shouldn’t have come.”
“shut up,” you whispered. “i couldn’t stay away.”
his hand slid up your back, slow and warm, fingers curling lightly at the nape of your neck. it wasn’t sexual—not yet—but it was intimate in a way that made your skin burn.
“you’re shaking,” he said, voice low.
“i’m not,” you lied.
he tilted his head slightly, enough to catch your eyes. “you were scared.”
you didn’t deny it.
then, so softly you almost missed it, he said, “i’m sorry.”
it knocked the breath out of you. not just because it was rare, but because it sounded real. raw. like he meant it.
you buried your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of saline and blood and yuta. “just... don’t make me lose you.”
his fingers tightened against your spine. “you won’t.”
and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. you just lay there—his body battered, yours tense, your heartbeats syncing in the quiet. his touch grew bolder, fingertips tracing the line of your waist where the sweatshirt had ridden up. not enough to be indecent, just enough to remind you that you were both alive, still tethered to this moment.
his lips brushed your forehead.
“thank you,” he whispered. “for disobeying.”
the days passed slowly, quietly, like smoke curling in still air. yuta remained in the hospital, recovering from the attack—each morning his color improved, each night you still woke up drenched in cold sweat, the memory of his blood staining your hands refusing to leave you.
you visited him every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to bring him something sweet from the bakery he liked. he hated the hospital food. tastes like regret, he’d mumbled once, wincing at the scrambled eggs.
you would laugh. he liked hearing your laugh. said it sounded like it didn’t belong in a world like his. too soft. too clean.
on the third morning, you received a call from hitoshi.
“i know it’s sudden,” he said, voice crackling with low urgency, “but they need you for the ad. the set’s already built. we’re behind schedule.”
you hesitated, looking over your shoulder at the clock. 8:42 a.m. visiting hours started at nine.
“it’s the commercial,” he added, softer this time. “the one with the energy drink. the ‘neon burn’ campaign.”
you exhaled, one hand gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. “i’ll be there.”
the shoot was loud, hectic, and full of neon lighting. they’d dressed you in a vibrant 80s-inspired athletic bodysuit—electric purple, turquoise, and hot pink, with high-cut sides. mesh leggings hugged your thighs, and scrunched leg warmers clung to your ankles. your hair was teased and pinned high, lips painted with a glossy coral shade, eyes framed by metallic blue shadow.
it was absurd.
and yet you killed it.
even with your heart split in two, you danced, posed, ran down the fake gym set and delivered your lines with energy that felt impossible to fake. the crew clapped. the director smiled. hitoshi looked almost proud.
but you heard them. behind the camera, behind the mirrors.
isn’t that the girl who married a nakamoto?
she’s still working? i thought she’d go into hiding after that shooting...
you didn’t flinch. not once. your back stayed straight, chin tilted, eyes cold and far away. you’d learned that from yuta—how to carry chaos like it was perfume on your skin.
when the shoot wrapped, you slid into hitoshi’s car, pulling off your earrings and tossing them into your bag.
“take me to the hospital,” you said quietly.
he didn’t argue, but he didn’t hide the concern in his tone either.
“you keep walking into fire,” he muttered, one hand on the wheel. “one of these days, you’ll get burned.”
you turned to look out the window, slipping on your sunglasses. “then i guess i’ll burn.”
by the time you arrived at the hospital, the sun had reached its peak. you wore a soft beige set—trousers that hugged your hips, a cropped blazer, and low nude heels. your makeup was subtle, elegant, and your dark glasses concealed the weariness in your eyes.
no one stopped you. they knew you by now.
room 304.
you entered without knocking.
yuta was sitting up in bed, finishing the last bite of toast. he wore a plain black shirt, one of the ones you brought from home, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, bandages still visible underneath. he looked better. less pale. a little annoyed.
“what’s with the shades?” he asked, swallowing.
you took them off and placed them on the windowsill. “blinding lights. needed protection.”
he eyed you, amused. “you look like you walked out of a magazine.”
you shrugged. “it was the commercial shoot. energy drink. eighties gymcore fantasy.”
“so you wore... what, a fluorescent leotard?”
“and leg warmers. don’t forget the leg warmers.”
he smirked. “should’ve been there.”
you smiled faintly, then crossed the room, pulling the chair closer to his bed. he watched you in silence, a hand resting loosely on his stomach.
“you okay?” you asked softly.
“better,” he said. “doc says maybe two more days.”
you nodded, fingers curling slightly over your knees.
“you really went to work in the middle of all this?” he asked, voice low.
“i didn’t want to,” you admitted. “but i needed to remember i still exist outside of this. outside of... bleeding walls and bodyguards and hospital beds.”
he looked at you, really looked. something in his eyes flickered—guilt, maybe. or admiration.
“i heard the crew talking,” you continued. “they think i’m crazy. marrying into this family. being seen with your name wrapped around my finger.”
“they’re not wrong,” he muttered.
you reached into your purse, pulling out a folded napkin. “i brought you something.”
he raised an eyebrow.
you handed him a pastry, soft and still warm. almond filling. his favorite.
“see?” you said, a little teasing. “not a complete mistake.”
he chuckled, biting into it. his shoulders relaxed. for a moment, he looked like any other man—wounded but human, soft around the edges.
“i missed this,” he said suddenly, voice quieter. “us. when it’s... normal.”
“this isn’t normal,” you whispered, eyes flicking to the IV, to the faint red stains on the gauze at his waist.
“no,” he agreed. “but it’s ours.”
you felt something catch in your chest.
“you scared me, yuta,” you said. “that night. i thought—i thought you were going to die in my arms.”
he swallowed. “i know.”
you reached for his hand. he let you.
“and it made me realize... it’s not just about the blood. or the danger. it’s you. it’s always been you.”
he stared at you for a long time, as if trying to memorize your face in this moment—sunlight casting gold along your cheekbones, shadows pooling at your collarbone.
“you were shaking,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “you wrapped your robe around me like it was the only thing holding me together.”
“it was.”
he leaned forward, slow, careful. his face inches from yours.
“i’ve had men take bullets for me. i’ve had people beg to die in my name. but no one’s ever looked at me the way you did that night.”
you exhaled shakily, heart hammering.
“how did i look at you?” you asked.
“like i was worth saving.”
you swallowed hard.
his fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face toward him. you saw the softness in his gaze war with the fire in his touch, that unspoken hunger blooming between you like a bruise. his lips brushed yours—not quite a kiss, not yet—but the weight of it stole the air from your lungs.
“i’m not letting you go,” he whispered. “not now. not after that.”
you didn’t reply.
you didn’t need to.
you just leaned in, lips brushing his again, as if sealing a quiet, dangerous promise.
he came home just as the cicadas began their evening song, the sky burning orange behind the high walls of the estate.
the front gates creaked open, and the commands were already lined up along the stone path, kneeling, backs straight, heads bowed in perfect silence.
the black car door opened. yuta stepped out slowly, his movements still deliberate, recovering. he wore a dark yukata, fabric loose at the collar, bandages still hidden beneath the folds. the sound of his geta against the stone echoed like a heartbeat.
“welcome home, young master,” they murmured in unison.
one of the higher officers stepped forward. “the men who orchestrated the attack have been dealt with. the one responsible… was eliminated last night.”
yuta said nothing at first. his eyes closed, head dipping just slightly, as if acknowledging not just the words but the weight of everything they carried.
you watched from the genkan, leaning lightly against the doorframe, arms crossed. your orange summer dress caught the dying light, soft fabric clinging to the curve of your hips, fluttering just below your knees. your hair was down, loose and warm like the air, and you felt his gaze linger on you even through his exhaustion.
you didn’t say anything. neither did he.
you didn’t have to.
he passed by you slowly, the smell of sandalwood and blood and quiet victory still clinging to him.
the house returned to stillness once he disappeared down the hall toward his room.
later, you stood barefoot in the kitchen, elbows propped on the counter, chatting aimlessly with the chef. he was old, bored, fond of telling stories that made no sense and pretending to hate you even though you knew he liked your company.
“he’s my husband,” you said sharply, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. “i’ll take it.”
he blinked at you, then snorted. “possessive little thing.”
“i’m just not decorative,” you said, grabbing the tray.
on the wooden surface, you laid everything carefully: a bowl of miso soup, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and a small porcelain cup of green tea. nothing too heavy—he still hadn’t regained all his strength. you added a folded cloth napkin and a pair of dark chopsticks.
the corridor was quiet when you made your way toward his room. the sliding door stood closed, warm light flickering through the paper panels. a couple of his men were stationed outside, standing stiff as statues. they glanced at you as you knelt gently before the door.
“yuta” you said softly. “i’m coming in.”
their eyes widened slightly—you hadn’t waited for permission.
inside, yuta sat reclined on his futon, his yukata slightly loosened, revealing the smooth, pale line of his collarbone. his head rested on his hand, elbow propped on a cushion. he was absently tossing a temari ball into the air and catching it with lazy precision, the silk threads glinting in the warm lamplight.
when you entered, he caught the ball midair and raised a brow.
“is this what i get for nearly dying?” he said, voice rough but amused. “a pretty wife and a home-cooked meal?”
you stood, holding the tray. “don’t get used to it.”
“but i like this version of you.”
“the barefoot maid version?”
“the worried wife version.”
you walked over and set the tray in front of him. “you’ll be serving yourself the moment you can stand without wobbling.”
he chuckled low in his chest. “you’re all thorns tonight.”
you sat beside him on the tatami, tucking your legs under your body. he reached for the bowl of soup, pausing to inhale the scent.
“this smells like my mother’s,” he murmured.
you looked over. “really?”
“mm. not exact. hers was saltier. but close enough that it stings.”
your voice softened. “was she strict?”
he took a sip of tea before answering. “no. not with me. she was tired by the time i came along. my sister got most of her anger. i got the leftovers.”
“you don’t talk about them much,” you said, careful not to pry.
he rested the cup on the tray. “there’s not much to say. my parents are gone. my sister left years ago. changed her name. ran away from the family.”
“where did she go?”
“fukushima, maybe. i’m not sure anymore. she hasn’t contacted me since…” he paused. “six years.”
you went quiet. the weight of that silence filled the room, not heavy—but sharp, like the moment before a storm.
“sorry,” you said. “i didn’t mean to—”
“it doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, glancing at you. “i don’t need her.”
he picked up a piece of fish, chewing slowly before he added, “i have you now.”
you looked at him. his voice wasn’t teasing. there was no smirk, no game behind his words. just truth.
you smiled, faint but genuine. “we’re not really a family though, are we?”
he didn’t flinch.
“maybe not yet,” he said. “but marriages evolve. even the fake ones.”
you scoffed lightly, looking away. “you really think this can become something real?”
he shrugged, finishing his tea. “i’ve seen stranger things.”
you let the quiet settle between you again. somewhere outside, a wind chime jingled in the warm breeze.
you stood, brushing your dress down over your thighs. “i’ll let you rest.”
“you could stay.”
you looked over your shoulder.
he wasn’t smiling now.
just watching you, the temari ball still between his fingers.
“stay,” he repeated, softer. “we don’t have to talk. just sit.”
you hesitated, then walked back and sat near his futon, close enough that his hand brushed against the hem of your dress.
he didn’t move it.
neither did you.
you stayed like that until the tea cooled, until his breath evened out into sleep, until you felt the strange ache of something tender begin to bloom—soft, patient, dangerous.
SYNOPSIS: Moving back home after unforeseen circumstances is hard enough as a 23 year old. But when you run into your childhood friend who you cut off all contact with now playing shows with his band that have apparently gained quite the reputation, you're forced to reevaluate the life that you left behind. And all of the doors you left wide open.
WORD COUNT: 28k (oops)
WARNINGS: humor, fluff, angst (kinda a lot of it), smut (MDNI), dry humping, thigh fucking, fingering, nipple play, light sub/dom play, vaginal sex (unprotected but pls wrap it when you tap it), characters might be a bit frustrating at some points, y/n deals with a lot of self hatred
NOTES: this is one of my proudest works while simultaneously being the longest! | was hoping to release earlier but I was severely sick two days ago while finishing it up, I hope you don't mind the delay!
explore the 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 here!
spotify playlist that helped inspire me while writing can be found here
Part One: Late November
All I Think About Now
☆ 💫 ☆
“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life,” He breathed out, his gaze sincere and intimate. It were as if you two were the only beings left in the world, he’d always had the ability to create such an environment for just the two of you. You reached forward—
“Long time no see, Y/N.” You heard the familiar voice from behind you, pulling you from your very heavy mind. You’d felt uneasy since the second the plane landed, your memories flooding back to you with zero remorse.
You turned to face her, the luggage in your hands weighing them down enough that you only gave a polite bow. You’d hoped that you came off nice enough and not like you were awkwardly avoiding any physical contact after not having spoken to your friend for so long. Even if thats exactly why you hadn’t met her eyes for longer than three seconds at a time.
She sucked her teeth playfully, “Is that any way to greet your friend?”
You couldn’t help but smile, her tone all so familiar and comforting. “Hi Giselle—“
”Aeri,” she cut you off pulling you in for a tight hug. “My closest friends call me Aeri.”
You let out a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to hug her back even after you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cause anymore trouble than you already had before booking the first flight out. “Aeri, i’m sorry to call you so abruptly.”
She shakes her head that you’d only now noticed was pink as she pulled away from the hug, “Don’t say sorry you idiot. I’m glad you called even though I was like ninety percent sure it was a prank call when you asked for a ride from Seoul Airport.”
Your cheeks reddened, to be fair you weren’t exactly the type to pull off spontaneous trips. It was just as uncharacteristic to her as it was to you, though you weren’t really the type to prank call either.
”This way,” she slid one of the carriers out of your grip, dragging it as she made her way through the terminal.
The drive was silent apart from the sound of the air flowing out of the air conditioning and the occasional sorry Aeri offered when she turned a little too close to the edge, driving over the curb. You hadn’t anticipated the easiest reunion after the years that had gone by, but as the seconds went by you only felt more awkwardly trapped within the Toyota.
You’d been overthinking over what to say for the past ten minutes your mouth agape with hesitation until you finally built up the courage. “You dyed your hair.”
Aeri giggled, flicking the blinker as she made yet another sharp turn. “Yeah like two years ago.”
Your heart sank, thats right you had seen it on her instagram story last Halloween right before closing the app at the sight of—no that didnt matter. It shouldn’t at least.
“I’m sorry,” you stuttered, only making her giggle more.
”You’re so awkward now,” she spoke through the laughs.”What did they do to you in France.”
You pouted, the place you’d been at more than twenty four hours ago had been alright to say the least besides the rude pedestrians and pitpockets. “What do you mean you’re the one who’s been acting so normal! Pretending like nothing’s changed when I haven’t seen you for five years.” You crossed your arms, burning holes through the side of her face.
She hummed playfully, “And who’s fault is that?” The words stung which was certainly not her intention yet caused you to fall silent. She wasn’t wrong, if anyone were to blame it was definitely you.
“Hey,” She called out, her voice regretful. “I’m just kidding you know, seriously there’s no reason to be so awkward.” She spared you a quick glance with an apologetic smile, “You’re overthinking it, i’m not mad you made it out of this shit town. Hell, I would’ve done the same.
“So why didn’t you?” You ask, curious. Aeri had always wanted to travel, it’d been her dream since diapers.
She shakes her head, “You talk like we don’t have the rest of the world ahead of us.”
You bit your tongue, maybe for her it was that way, for you the future had different plans. You nod, the rest of the conversation falling into another silence. “I’m acting normal because everything is normal. Don’t think of this as time lost think of it as time catching up.”
Before you can get a word out she continues,”And I wasn’t like trying to make things awkward. Just thought silence fit the whole angsty quarter life crisis vibe you’re going through right now,” She jokes.
”I’m not the one who turned twenty five this year.” You deadpan causing her to gasp.
“Oh wow you’re not that far off I hope you know that.” She replies, the two of you laughing together. You both had a way of poking at each other, of course knowing when to stop, but in most cases it wasn’t ever necessary. It was the way the two of you showed love.
“I’m guessing i’m the only one you’ve told?”
Aeri was always very attentive so you were sure she’d have figured it out before the week ended, you’d only wished she could’ve at least realized after you’d had showered and changed into clothes that weren’t full of sweat.
“Yeah.” You felt your heart racing in fear of her mentioning his name.
“Wow I still have best friend privileges then?” She jokes, helping ease your stress a little more.
“You never lost them.”
“Right, well that must mean something then.” She smiles, before adding. “It’s the same for me, even now you’re still my best friend. I tell everyone, even told my friend Renjun before heading this way.”
You smiled, she had answered the phone quicker than you expected and before the phone call ended had already stated she was on the way. You were grateful even if in that back of your mind you had already known that she wouldn’t have just left you alone. It was even stupid for you to think that things had changed in the first place, Aeri wasn’t going to drive an hour away into Seoul for just anyone on a Friday.
“Renjun is?” You ask, curious about what she had been up to before she had picked you up.
“Oh he’s a cool guy I met doing some volunteer work for the Children’s Art program. He was a bit annoyed about me leaving right as we were getting ready for tonight but he shut up when I told him it’s cause I was coming to get you.”
“He knows me?” The thought scares you. Other people you’ve never met perceiving you was not really something any introvert would want.
“Yeah well me and Ning talk about you a lot.”
Ningning. You’d more recently seen her in person about a year ago. Her family had some business to take care of in France so you had the chance to have brunch with her before she was on her way out of the country.
“I hope I get to meet him.”
Her eyes light up, the next turn sharp enough to make your body slide over from one side of the seat to the next. “You can tonight! We were going to go over to some bar later on and getting drinks.”
“Aeri I have nothing to wear.”
“You can borrow some of my clothes!”
You groan in frustration, she was still the stubborn type. “I’m not really in the mood to socialize right now.” That wasn’t exactly the full truth but you’d rather get ran over than admit the real reason.
“I think it’ll do you good.” The rose haired girl replies, eyeing you through her peripherals. “I’m like one hundred percent sure that your grandma has zero idea that you’re even here right?”
Your silence tells her enough to know that she’s correct in that assumption. “It’ll be fun! You can wipe that kicked puppy look off of your face and get to socializing! Ning will be there too! It’ll be like you never left.”
You sigh. It wasn’t that you were avoiding contact with anyone from your past it’s just that you were avoiding seeing him.
Truth be told you really didn’t even know what made you come back here in the first place. Things were even more messy than they were in France right now, and that was a lot to say considering that you hadn’t replied to a single missed call from your mother.
You’d get around to it eventually. For now you just needed an escape. If your grandma knew she would tell you to not argue with your mom and go back home. But you didn’t want whatever kind of home that was supposed to be you wanted–
“Fine.” You spoke before you could even finish your thought. “I’ll go.”
Aeri squealed in excitement, pulling her phone out as soon as the two of you reached a red light to call and let everyone know that she had a very important person she was bringing over.
You hoped tonight could be a night of silence. You’d been thinking way too much about everything the past few days, it was important that you cleared your mind before your thoughts fried it. You weren’t sure how much time you had left before you had to come to terms with reality. France was where you were supposed to be no matter how differently you wish it were.
You were here for clarity, not for your own personal gain despite the urge to reach out because what you wanted wasn’t going to happen. Not after things ended so horribly.
You at least owed him that.
☆ 🎸 ☆
“You okay man? You’ve been playing that same chord progression for the past thirty minutes.”
“Leave him alone he’s just pissy because his last hookup tried the groupie route.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Naeun seemed like a pretty sweet girl but she had a score she was hoping to reach and Jisung wasn’t interested in fucking a girl who planned on hopping on his bandmates afterwards.
“I told you man,” He feels the weight of his friend's arm on his shoulder, sighing in annoyance at the familiar action. “You should be more like Jeno, tell them you’re only hitting it once and then you’re done.”
“That’s not at all what I say.”
Jisung could hear the scattered laughs from around him, breaking the cocoon of peace he’d been in while strumming to his own tune on the bass.
Most of the band’s rehearsals began this way. He’d be in his own funk until the rest of them snapped him out of it, usually by poking at him until he finally gave them attention, and then they’d all practice. Only now, instead of ten minutes of being in his own world he’d somewhere along the way picked up the habit of playing for over twenty minutes, now thirty, all by himself.
It wasn’t that it affected the group’s intense practice schedules, actually he’d argue that Donghyuck’s habit of bringing his latest hookup for an exclusive behind the scenes tour was much more disruptive. It was, however, becoming increasingly irritating to himself. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
Jisung was no psychic but he at least had some kind of intuition. It came with having a Scorpio Moon, or whatever Jaemin had told him when he was hanging out with the tarot card girl.
“Are you good?” Mark asked, his words full of concern yet low enough that only Jisung could hear him as the others continued to mess around paying them two no more attention.
Mark had pretty easily taken on the leader role when this whole band came about, being the eldest of the group and also the voice of reason. The lead guitarist was known for his friendly demeanor and knowing just about everyone, which made it easier for him to book gigs all over the place.
That’s also how the two met, Jisung having covered for the older’s friend’s band, Frequency, when their bassist caught food poisoning three days before they had to do a grand show two cities over.
If it weren’t for meeting Mark then it would’ve been safe to bet that Jisung would’ve given up on his dream of playing in a band. He was eternally grateful even now, which is why he’d grown more frustrated at himself. It was unfair to space out all the time, but it was even more unfair that he couldn’t get his own head straight all the time. He had to get his head straight, he couldn’t run Oblivion into the ground.
His breath was shaky. “I’m fine.” He answered, much less tranquil than he’d hoped for but it got the point across. Mark gave a tight smile, choosing to accept the pretense, before clapping loud enough to disrupt the other’s shenanigans.
The guys turned their attention to Mark, who had made his way over to where his guitar stood. “Come on guys, it’s time we take things a little more seriously.”
“It’s nothing we haven’t played before,” Donghyuck started, his confidence high and sprung as always. “We have practiced these songs more times than i’ve seen my mother.”
“Doesn’t mean we’ve mastered anything,” Mark replies swiftly. “This is the most packed schedule we have these next couple of months. We have a couple of venues sold out, that festival downtown in a few weeks, not to mention the fact that we’ve been needing new music since forever.”
“Songwriting isn’t exactly my forte,” Jeno retorted, taking a seat and adjusting the cymbals on his drums.
“Doesn’t matter, practicing beats sitting around and doing nothing.”
“Doesn’t Jeno do that anyway?” Jaemin teases, picking up his guitar and sliding the strap over his shoulder.
The drummer responds with his signature smile and his middle finger raised.
“Let’s make things easy for Markie,” Donghyuck grabbed his mic from off of the stand. “Start with Déjà Vu?”
Jisung starts with the bass line, the familiar weight of the tune soothing his head as the others join in. It was easy to get lost in their music, rock was always his safe space.
The music built up, Donghyuck’s vocals filling the space around them. They’d rehearsed the song so many times it came to them all like muscle memory at this point, the five of them having some of the best musical chemistry ever.
The bridge was coming up when Jisung’s mind blanked. His fingers faltered over the strings, not enough to make the others stop playing but enough to garner questioning glances. He came in once again right before the ending chorus, all of them playing as if he hadn’t just ruined the entire practice performance.
He tried to stay focused on the music but as the song neared its end it only broke the illusion Jisung had put himself under. There was really no way he could keep up with the rest of the guys if he kept on letting his mind wander.
“Jisung buddy, you okay man?” This time Jaemin was the one to ask. Great that meant his internal struggles were already becoming more obvious.
“Yeah, sorry, guess you’re right about a few things.”
“I told you Ji,” Donghyuck says far too loudly as he speaks directly into the mic. “If you need something I know plenty of women ready to be at your beckoning call.”
“Once again,” Jisung sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I’m not interested.” Donghyuck shrugs.
“It’s not a problem this is just a practice anyway,” Mark says as leaderish as ever, “Let’s take it from the top.”
Jisung knew Mark was probably a bit more stressed than he let on, this whole gimmick had been happening way more often to call it a stroke of misfortune. He wouldn’t ever let the man see that though, he already knew just how hard Jisung was on himself. Could you really blame him, though? Now was not the time for mistakes, the band themselves were booked and busy for the next few weeks. If he kept tuning out and fucking up simple songs that he could play in his sleep, he’d be responsible for the reputation of the band.
He bit his bottom lip, closing his eyes to clear his mind before starting up the same bass line as before. He’d have to hurry up and fix whatever limbo he was stuck in. And hurry up fast.
☆ 💫 ☆
Dinner went about as great as you’d expected. Lots of awkward moments up until the drinks started pouring in, and only then after almost zero persuasion you took the drinks and joined the rest of them in the fun drinking games you hadn’t played since you were all sneaking sips of your mothers expensive wine. It wasn’t alcoholic in the slightest, but that hadn’t stopped your young minds from acting drunk anyway.
It had been almost a week since then. And you were no monster so you had already come clean about your whereabouts to your grandma who, after lots of convincing, agreed to not tell anything to your mother under the condition that you would visit her in the time you chose to stay here before leaving again.
You weren’t exactly sure when that would be, after all you still had too much on your mind and according to Aeri, lots of catching up to do. That included, checking out the newly remodeled venue thirty minutes away and having drinks with everyone.
Unfortunately for you, no introvert was safe from your friends' shenanigans. So tonight you were expected to show up, no excuses. Not even the ‘you don’t have my foundation shade’ that used to get you out of going most places when you were all younger. Turns out having a friend who worked as a beauty consultant took some getting used to.
You took in the scene around you, low lights that were full of color. There was a subtle fog that filled the room you were sure was there to add to the aesthetic appeal.
You’d been sipping on drinks for what felt like hours just waiting for the main performance to begin. Some band was running late for the past thirty minutes.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a performance?” You click your tongue in annoyance, speech slightly slurred.
“I think they might just move on to the rest of them, probably gonna end up being a hefty fine.” Renjun replies, gulping down the last of his mocktail.
“How many bands are we here to see?”
Ningning giggles, just as tipsy as you. “As many as we can! Who doesn’t love live music?”
You groan, “Well i’ll be right back then,” You scoot off of your seat, pulling down your dress fabric that had risen just a bit too high for comfort as you were seated. “Anyone else want another drink?” Your friends politely decline, choosing to stay behind and keep your section open for when you come back.
The bodies around made it a bit more difficult to find your way around, but anytime you were tipsy you’d gain enough confidence to convince yourself you could run a marathon in ten minutes, so there was no way you were backing out. You chose to try a different route, heading closer towards the stages in the back since there were less people and crowds weren’t exactly your scene.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here right now.” A low voice sounded from behind you, startling you into turning around.
“Do I know you?” You take in the appearance of the man in front of you. He was handsome but that didn’t really mean anything considering that he was a stranger, and you were alone.
He chuckled, his smile only growing larger. “Guess not.”
You nodded awkwardly, turning away from the guy and praying he wasn’t some creep.
“If you’re here for the show then I’m pretty sure the stage is that way.” He calls out, pointing from where you just came from.
“Not where i’m headed but thank you.”
“Hey look I promise i’m no creep,” He says and though the words are meant to be comforting your drunken mind can’t help but take it as a threat. “You should really be careful out here though, if security finds you they’ll kick you out without even hearing you out first.”
You’re not really sure what to say so you nod. This guy was kind of annoying, it was obvious enough you didn’t want his help. You looked at him again, your brow raised this time actually taking in his appearance. He had blond hair, his eyes were big enough you could probably spot him from a mile away, and his smile seemed genuine yet all the more unsettling.
“You like what you see?” He jokes, his smile growing wider.
You pretend to gag, causing the ladder to laugh. “Okay okay fine i’ll leave you alone.” He looked down at his watch like he’d lost track of time. “Oh by the way, the bar is that way!”
He pointed in the direction you had already planned on going in before running off into one of the many rooms that confused your tipsy head.
When you’d appeared once again with your friends this time with a drink in hand Aeri was the first to speak up.
“Where have you been? I told these guys you have zero sense of direction who gave them the bright idea to go by yourself.”
“His name is Jack Daniels.” Ningning blurts out.
“I’m serious, you missed out on a lot, Renjun’s friend Chenle is some dude who owns this place. He invited us for more drinks later when the show ends.”
Renjun nods happily, “He also offered us rides home so I can actually drink now.”
You smile, “Don’t worry, I met some weirdo but he kind of helped me find the bar so he wasn’t so bad after all.”
Aeri’s eyes widened with worry, “He didn’t try anything did he? I’ll find whoever the creep is and kill him.”
“I’m fine, really.” Before she can argue the crowd erupts in cheers, five silhouettes filling the stage. It was hard for you to even make out their faces with all of the fog and distance between you and the main stage.
The first few chords strummed, the low notes of the bass powerful enough to cloud your mind before the rest of the ensemble joined. Whatever song it was was captivating. The entire crowd swayed to the heavy sound, your friends following suit.
The next few songs went by almost too quickly, and it was safe to say that whoever these guys were on stage were something special. The crowd cheered loudly after every performance up until the final song.
The lead singer stopped for a moment introducing the last song by title. Once more to see you.
The final song began, a slow bass line that felt so familiar. You took in a sharp breath, the vocals were different than they were before. This time a low voice took the mic. You felt as if your heart stopped beating, your friends were distracted staring up at the stage not having noticed your pale complexion.
You couldn’t breathe. What ever made you think you could come back down and avoid him? The lead singer had taken the mic again but it was much too late. You knew exactly who it was on that stage. You’d spent your childhood with him. You helped him find his voice. You were there when he first began composing his own music.
You were there, until you weren’t.
☆ 🎸 ☆
Jisung took one long breath, soaking in the applause from the audience before looking up as the final chorus ended. His heart sank for a split second, staring out in the distance he swore he saw–
“Come on,” Jeno called out, his figure covering his view. He moved over, looking into the crowd again to see nothing. He must really be out of his mind these days. He followed the rest of the group off of the stage, the cheers fading into the distance.
“That was fucking amazing!” Donghyuck shouted excitedly, “Did you see the way the girl in the front row kept looking at me? I threw her a wink and she got all shy.”
Jeno rolled his eyes, “Yeah I'm so sure that happened even through the thick ass fog.”
“What was the deal with that?” Mark added, taking a sip of a water bottle that Jisung was almost sure appeared out of thin air if it weren’t for the mini fridge in the break room they’d noticed earlier. “Swear I could barely see where my own guitar was.”
“I for one could see perfectly,” Jaemin sighed, “The girl with the black dress.”
The rest of the guys collectively groaned in annoyance, it was so like Jaemin to pick out a random girl from the crowd to offer his entire soul to for the night. The hopeless romantic surely had a weird way of envisioning his future.
Jisung scrunched his face, deciding to take a water bottle from the fridge as a means of cooling off. He wasn’t exactly interested in the other guys sex lives, so he found himself wondering back to what he thought he saw. There was zero way that it was you. Like it had to be scientifically impossible, you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with him anymore so why would you be back in town?
He had to be losing it or something because seriously what the fuck. First he was spacing out now he was suddenly seeing shit? Seeing you of all people too?
“Jisung!” Jeno shouted, no anger in it whatsoever but it was enough to make Jisung jump anyway, “Dude what’s up with you lately?”
He had no answer to that.
When he didn’t reply Jeno started up again, “Look I don’t really understand what the heck is going on and clearly you’re just as lost as I am, but how about you join us after this?”
Ah of course there was always the post performance clubbing his band mates would go to for drinks and more specifically, the warmth of another in their bed. Honestly he should say no. He always did anyway, but he figured that if for even more than a second he was left alone with his own thoughts he’d certainly lose his mind for real.
“Okay.” Jisung agreed, not completely confident in his decision but the other guys seemed happier than he was at the answer.
“Finally!” Donghyuck buds into their conversation, poking his head in between the two as he hangs off of Jisung’s shoulder. “I met this girl a few shows back and her friend couldn’t stop asking about you! I promise you, you will get some tonight.”
Mark laughs, “Yeah i’m sure that’s exactly what Ji was worried about, going home without some groupie.”
Donghyuck shrugs, “You never know, Jaemin could die if he doesn’t get his dick touched after every show.”
Jaemin smirks, “Good thing I don’t ever have to worry about that.”
Jisung knew he had made a grave mistake the second they had entered the building. For one, most of the bodies filling the room stank of cheap cologne and alcohol. And the second he even made his way in every single one of the guys disappeared into the abyss.
This was seriously not his scene. He let out what felt like the hundredth sigh of the night, making his way over to the bar. He ordered rum and coke, hoping that was good enough to get a little bit of alcohol in his system so he wouldn’t feel like dying until the rest of the guys gathered up to get back home.
As time went on he’d grown bored, the drink was seriously not helping him get his mind off of anything. Some woman tried flirting with him about half an hour ago who was obviously not in the right mind when she confessed to forgetting her name. Her friend popped up right behind her apologizing and leaving with her.
He contemplated another drink as he scrolled his phone once more, a few texts popping in from the Oblivion group chat.
Donghyuck:
Im out
Don’t bother me
I’ll be back in the morning
Of course the dude had left on his own. If Jisung knew that was the case he would’ve left a long time ago. He set down the empty glass in his hand, going straight through the crowd to find the exit door. His phone began to ring, he was sure it was Jeno or Jaemin calling to hook him up with a random person he’d never met. It was annoying how often they’d pull that, even when he was already settled in his bed at home.
He locked his screen, ignoring the call as he spotted what looked like a door out. The crowd was really getting to him, even if his height was an advantage between all of the people, he didn’t particularly like the feeling of someone standing so close to him. He was a bassist for crying out loud, that didn’t mean he had to be a people person. That was all Hyuck’s job, anyway, as the lead singer.
As he finally reached the door he felt like a weight lifted off of his shoulder, reaching out to open the door when from the other side someone pushed it forward. He muttered a quick apology before looking up.
Right in front of him you stood, in a black dress that didn’t do enough to hide your figure from everyone else’s eyes. Paired with a huge fluffy puffer jacket he never would’ve imagined you’d buy for yourself. Though his imagination proved to be very inconsistent since he would’ve never imagined you’d be back here of all places.
It hit him then. The anxious feelings he’d been experiencing for the past weeks, the girl who could’ve bet his entire life on being in the crowd. So he wasn’t going crazy, not yet at least.
☆ 💫 ☆
You should’ve trusted your gut. That’s the only thing that you could think as you met face to face with him. He looked even better up close than he did on the stage. Only where he looked comfortable and free playing before, it was nowhere to be seen now. Now he stared back at you. For just a second as you opened the door you thought you could see a hint of relief. It was all gone now. Now you looked into the eyes of the man you knew so well before. Now you looked into the eyes of your best friend who eyed you back with…
Well, honestly, you couldn’t even pinpoint how he felt, all you knew was that it was definitely not a happy feeling.
“Jisungie?” Ningning called out from behind you, completely oblivious to the dense atmosphere that surrounded the two of you.
His expression changed in a quick moment, a smile masking his features as his attention shifted to greet hers. You weren’t sure why it hurt so bad to see the two of them interact that way, but it did.
“Hey,” His voice was as deep as you remembered, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you moved to the side, offering up space so the two of them could talk more easily.
“I haven’t seen you in like forever!” She rested a hand on his shoulder, “You look great but out of place, I don’t remember you being much of a clubbing guy?”
“Jeno dragged me out tonight but it seems he made himself pretty busy.”
Ningning laughs, “Seems just like him.”
You felt like an outsider, not knowing any of the people the two of them were referring to. You shrank into silence, hoping the two of them would end up distracted enough that you could make a run for it. Surely there had to be at least one late night flight back to France, or Portugal, or Spain, or really any European country that could hide you for the rest of your life.
“You could join us where we’re sitting? We’re in a vip booth, supposed to be meeting some of the bands from earlier.”
Your eyes widened, there was no way she really asked him that. It wasn’t completely known to the rest of your friend group what really happened between you and Jisung but it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out either.
“Ah,” He looks down awkwardly. You held back a smile, he was never really one for direct eye contact, not with anyone but you. What were you talking about, that was in the past. “I actually played earlier, I'm the bassist for Oblivion, the last ones that played.”
Ningning’s mouth was in the shape of an O, “Really! I would’ve noticed but it was pretty foggy where we stood!” She knocked on her head, scolding herself for not paying enough attention to who was actually on stage. “You should come by anyway! I’m sure the others might be just as surprised seeing you now.”
Things couldn’t get more awkward. It was fine though, Jisung was obviously pretty occupied before you bumped into him, so clearly, he wouldn’t want to stay here longer when he’s busy.
“Sure.”
It was not fine.
“Great!” Ningning smiled, “Y/N can show you where the rest of the group is i’m going to order us a round of drinks!”
It was definitely not fine.
Jisung nodded, prompting Ningning to leave the both of you alone. You barely let out a small “This way,” before even more uncomfortable silence filled the air around you two.
You knew your friend certainly didn’t mean to make things weird, she just happened to be a very talkative drunk. You could forgive her in the morning when she would apologize to you profusely just as she always did after a night of drinking and bad decisions.
What plagued your mind now wasn’t that, it was why Jisung would even agree in the first place? He didn’t seem to want to talk to you at all. Or had you been imagining things? You did have a habit of making things out to be what they weren’t. Perhaps he was actually happy to see you? Perhaps he was interested in catching up with the others? Maybe he wasn’t mad at you for leaving him hanging the last couple of years and dropping off the face of the earth.
Jisung was always a sweetheart growing up, he could hardly hold any resentment towards anyone. Some things never changed.
Time changes everything.
You’d told yourself that right before you clicked to confirm your flight, mostly so that when you came back and realized that change was inevitable and happening no matter what, it wouldn’t cause you to panic but instead give you better insight on what to do with your life.
Now, as you sit quietly at the table, Aeri to your left pouring yet another glass for the man seated in front of you. You realized that there was no comfort in change, not when you ruined what left you had to live in your life.
Jisung hardly looked at you, avoiding every fiber of your existence as he laughed along with the rest of the group. You had tried to make a comment somewhere in between the night that he ignored flat out. It should’ve pissed you off more, you were a prideful human being, but you’d figured that was better than him looking at you in disgust, the way he did earlier when you first introduced him to everyone at the table.
He was always one to have his emotions written on his face afterall.
You took another shot of soju, your friends so deep in conversation they overlooked your presence, talking loudly about some things you’d missed out on when you moved away. You were a few shots deep enough to know that you had about one more shot left in you before you completely passed out here on this table, which honestly seemed like the worst fate possible, again because of your pride.
You tapped your finger, absentmindedly, your overthinking soon to be reduced by the thoughts of ‘could I jump over a twenty foot van’.
You weren’t sure how long it’d been of you doing that until you heard the sound of a glass sliding towards you. Looking up, you see the same dark head of hair that had been hard to not notice all night.
“Drink.” Jisung says, his tone flat and uninterested, like he didn’t actually care if you did what he said at all.
You eyed the glass with what you assumed was filled with water since it was clear. “Water?”
He sighs, as if replying to you physically hurt him. “What else would it be?”
You shrug, holding the glass with both hands and taking a few large gulps of the cool liquid. It was definitely water, and for some reason it was really hitting the spot. You set the glass down, wiping your lips from where at some point it spilled. If you were sober enough you would’ve seen the way he looked at you, the shaky breath he let out when you wiped your mouth.
“It could’ve been tequila.”
His patient demeanor is back, “Do you really think i’d offer you more alcohol in this state?”
You shrug again, this time not really knowing what to say. You felt shy all of a sudden. Those were the only words he’d directed at you and you only the entire night. A selfish part of you knew that if you let the conversation die now he, rightfully so, would probably never talk to you again and go about his own life. You felt like that was the worst possible outcome, so you opted for another.
“Where’d everyone go?” You ask innocently. Truth be told you hadn’t even noticed the empty chairs around until now. Damn did you really drink that much?
As if he read your mind he replies, “Did you really overdo it? They left for the dance floor a few minutes ago. They invited you but you claimed your feet would fall off if you stood up for more than a minute.”
Well props to your drunk self, you at least knew your own limits. Jisung scrolls his phone, the silence somehow louder than the music playing throughout the place. When did things become this way? You knew why, but that didn’t make it hurt less. He could hardly even look at you, but when he did he looked at you like it hurt him to. He looked at you like you were the bane of his existence. Of course, after a certain point you were also an emotional drunk. You’d learned of it back in France when you had too many rounds of champagne at your mother’s Orca release and rescue charity gala event and bursted out crying as the slide show segment took place.
It was embarrassing then, the last thing you needed was a repeat of that time. You swallowed down more water, hoping it would ease the cry in your throat from fully forming.
Jisung’s phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. You thought maybe he wouldn’t answer when he proved you wrong, sliding the answer button and lifting the phone to his ear.
He answered softly, “Hello?”
Ah it must be his girlfriend if he’s answering so kindly. That makes total sense, he was always a subtle charmer. You’d look into his eyes and fall deeper and deeper without realizing it like he was some sort of black hole.
“No it’s okay,” He spoke again, making eye contact with you again and tapping the table for you to finish the last of your water. You groan but obey, sipping down the rest in one last gulp.
“Yeah really hyung i’m fine, just got things to take care of.”
Hyung?
You ponder for a moment before realizing that it wasn’t a girlfriend he’d been on the phone with. Wow what a way of jumping to conclusions. You’d laugh at yourself if doing that wouldn’t result in a psych evaluation.
He seemingly ends the call, typing something into his phone before setting it down.
“What was that about?” He raises an eyebrow in what seemed like he was offended that you’d even ask. He was about to give you an answer when you cut him off. “Fine then I didn’t want to know!”
You had enough of whatever game he was playing. Since he hated you so much he could leave. There wasn’t anything holding him hostage here. You were done being a sad drunk now you were just annoyed.
You pout, refusing to look at him when a low chuckle sounds from his mouth. You turn towards him again, scowling in annoyance. “Stop laughing! You’re being such an asshole.”
“I’m an asshole?” He scoffs playfully, “Why?”
You roll your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “You’ve been looking at me like i’m stupid all night!”
“We haven’t even been together all night.” You roll your eyes, making him laugh more. “Okay, i’m sorry I was joking.”
You refuse to speak now, staring off at some random painting on the wall like it was an official Van Gogh exclusive.
“Darling,” His voice is low as he calls for you.
Darling.
You hadn’t been called that since before you left. The nickname has always been his for you, an exclusive that nobody but him could ever call you.
“Why do you do this to me?” You question him, your cheeks growing warm as you fiddle with your fingers. “I understand you must want nothing to do with me after...” You trail off, not knowing how exactly to word anything but continuing anyway, “after everything, but if you hate me so badly then you can just leave.”
He’s silent for a moment too long, making you grow more embarrassed at your sudden outburst. Only Park Jisung was able to drag this kind of reaction out of you. You hear him shift in his seat, the music on the dance floor not anywhere near as loud as the way your heart thumps when he approaches you.
He’s right beside you, standing what you can only assume is straight and tall when he clears his throat. You lift your head up on instinct to meet his gaze, only this time the playful glint from before is gone. He’s nothing short of serious when he finally speaks, “Is that it? You thought I wanted nothing to do with you?””
You’re so close in proximity now, closer than you’ve been in years. He looks behind you but for just one moment before his eyes are back on yours again. You suck in a breath as he leans in close, making sure that you’d be able to hear him over the loud chatter around.
“I wish that was the case.”
Your brows furrow. What the hell does that mean? “What–“ You don’t have any time to ask, the tall man had already stormed off.
“What’s up with him?” Aeri asks, taking a seat next to you.
You don’t even know how to reply. If anything his reaction only made everything more confusing. You leaned your head in your hands, groaning in frustration. This was not at all what you had been anticipating when you left, but one thing was for certain, this was only the beginning to your problems.
Part Two: Early December
What difference does it make?
☆ 🎸 ☆
The atmosphere was warm and comforting. He snuggled into your touch, the soft touch of your hand trailing through his hair. He felt himself drift asleep, the tiredness from school and practice enveloping him as the seconds passed. You whispered something, your voice too light to make out. He was too tired to ask though, deciding he could just ask you about it in the morning. His breathing evened out as he allowed himself to rest.
Jisung woke up with a headache that felt like he’d been shot in the head. Twice.
A part of him knew that whatever drink Jeno handed him was probably going to taste like it was mixed with a horse tranquilizer. In his defense, he really did need it.
Ever since he’d last seen you two weeks ago he couldn’t help but think of you. You overwhelmed every thought in his mind, every dream he had, every daydream. It was a bad idea to stay to chat. It was an even worse one to talk to you. Now you plagued his mind constantly.
He barely had time to explain anything to his hyungs, and lucky for him, they didn’t really ask. They did, however, offer ways of help. That’s how he ended up at parties or bars or clubs after every performance they had. And Mark wasn’t joking when he said the next few months were booked and busy. It seemed like every week he found himself waking up after a night out with a killer migraine, but it beat the alternative.
Mark didn’t seem so pleased, but as long as the partying wasn’t interfering with practice or actual performances, he would let them go about how they wanted to spend their free time. So for some time, he’d hang around with the guys until they found some girl to take back to a hotel, then he’d call a cab and pass out the second his head hit his pillow. It was a controversial way of living, sure, but it at least left him with an empty mind.
You hadn’t shown up to any other performances. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it at first, but he figured it was for the best. He made his way into the kitchen, the guys laughter from the living room sounding like they were screaming in his ear. They didn’t pay him any attention until he closed the fridge, Jaemin calling out to him as his Sonya Blade completely annihilated Donghyuck’s Johnny Cage.
“Yo Jisung! Do you wanna play?”
“We still haven’t finished this round, asshole,” Donghyuck replied.
“Yeah but you suck,” Jaemin teases, finishing the round with a signature Fatality.
“You sleep well?” Mark calls out from the other couch, Donghyuck passing him the remote in defeat.
“Uh,” Jisung’s mind drifts for a second, remembering his dream before ignoring the memory. “Sure.”
“You’re pretty quiet,” Mark says plainly, “Anything happen last night?”
“Nothing fun if that’s what you’re implying, dude couldn’t even stand a chance when Jeno passed him that concoction of his.” Donghyuck answers for him, paying no active attention to anything but his phone.
Jeno smiles to himself in the corner, which sounded creepier than it actually was. “That’s not even my go-to, if you want a real drink next time let me know.”
Donghyuck looks up from his phone, offended like Jeno had punched him, “Dude, what kind of monster are you?”
Jaemin laughs maniacally, having beat Mark’s Sub-Zero in record breaking time.
“Dude? How?” Mark asks in genuine shock, looking over the remote like it had betrayed him.
“He’s a hacker I tell you!” Donghyuck shouts, the sound still too amplified for Jisung’s poor ears.
“I made breakfast,” says Jaemin, ignoring the others' theories. “We already ate so you can help yourself. There’s some pills on the counter too.”
It hadn’t been that long since they all decided to live together, it made getting to rehearsal easier. The only issue was having to deal with multiple roommates bringing someone back home, the walls weren’t as thin as they hoped. A good pair of noise cancelling headphones later though, and living here was really great.
Jisung was sure if he’d been living alone he would’ve ended up starving to death, so having Donghyuck and Jaemin as roommates was like a gift from the heavens above. As soon as he bit into the Kimchi Stew he felt cured of all things evil, devouring the rest of the meal like he hadn’t eaten in years.
Once he finished and washed his bowl he passed through the living room much more energized than he was moments prior. Mark sat alone now, stretched limbs over the couch as he watched the Animated Spider-Man Series.
“Where’s everyone?”
Mark shrugged, eyes glued to the tv, “Jeno’s in his room probably, Donghyuck went out, and who knows with Jaemin.”
“No practice today?”
“Nope,” he replies, popping the p. “Free day today.”
It was the first Wednesday they had off in almost a month. Jisung pondered for a moment, debating how to spend today, before realizing he had things to do.
“I’m going out!” He yells out after switching into a casual outfit, slipping on his shoes at the door. “I’ll be back later!”
Mark shouts back a quick, “Okay man take care!” Right as Jisung shuts the door.
Wednesdays were reserved, for the most part, or at least Jisung tried to keep it that way. It was pretty hard though, this new schedule kept him booked and busy with back to back shows and practice.
He gripped the bag of fruit in one hand, politely knocking on the door and waiting. There was scuffling from inside, someone making their way over to the door. He adjusted his shirt, making sure he didn’t look like he had been run over.
The door twisted open, revealing you. A plain black shirt, partially revealing the bra you had on with the way it flowed over your shoulders. You wore baggy jeans, the boyfriend style that made him short circuit at the idea of you wearing any one of his clothes that’d fit on you oversized. He could smell your familiar fragrance of cherries, one that he’d assumed you’d eventually outgrow but had proven to be false.
You spoke first, his words stolen out of his mouth before he could even get a greeting out. “What are you doing here?”
He wasn’t sure you meant to come off so accusatory, but you did, his headache from earlier coming back.
“Jisungie!” Your grandma called from behind you. A smile reached his face in an instant.
“Auntie,” He starts, “I apologize for not coming by sooner.”
“Don’t apologize!” She cuts him off, “Come in, come in.”
He nods, removing his shoes as he steps inside the familiar home. “I brought you some fruits, as an apology.”
“Ah you didn’t have to,” She smiles, accepting the bag.
Jisung keeps it in his arms, “It’s a bit heavy, i’ll carry it.”
She nods in thanks, heading towards her kitchen. The entire interaction leaves you standing there, mouth agape, in confusion. Looking at the bag in his hands and back up at him.
“Grandma!” You call after the elderly lady, following her into the kitchen.
He can hear you as you try and speak quietly, you really were bad at whispering, asking the woman why the hell he was here. She ignores you, dicing up more vegetables and adding them into the pot.
“Jisungie, you can sit over there.”
He sets the bag of fruits down on the table, “Ah i’m okay, I can help if you want.”
The lady laughs, “Your hands are better for playing, sit, sit.”
“Ah, yes.”
You groan in frustration, your grandmother ignoring you as you try to talk to her, telling you to quiet down and take a seat. After a few minutes of lingering around, you finally decide to oblige, taking the seat next to Jisung.
“I asked you a question,” You observe him, looking over him like he was on the FBI’s most wanted list.
Your grandmother passes him a glass cup that he accepts with thanks. He takes a sip, her banana smoothies were always nothing short of exceptional.
“I always swing by,” He replies, barely sparing you a glance. He knew if he allowed himself to look at you again that he’d be putting himself in a worse position.
Your brows furrow, he holds back a smile, you were always so easy to read. “Why?” You ask plainly, this time with zero irritation.
He looks over at the woman, hoping you were able to put two and two together. Your grandma was a kind woman, but she was also lonely. Her only child left years ago to start a life elsewhere, and though she was so proud of her, Jisung constantly heard of your mothers accomplishments anytime he visited, he could tell a part of her missed having her daughter around.
It was different when you lived there, she would watch over the two of you when you were young. Jisung spent most of his time with the two of you since his parents were always away. He started coming over on his own a few weeks after you moved. At first he wanted to make sure that your grandma was doing well, he checked over her house to see if she needed help with anything. She appreciated his visits, cooking for him and telling him to stop by whenever he wanted to.
He stopped by more often after that, at least once a week when he wasn’t busy filling in for random bands around the area. She had been the first to congratulate him when he joined Oblivion. It was nice being around a place that he held so dear to him, even when he knew he should’ve been trying to get over you. A part of him knew that wouldn’t ever happen.
You understood the message clearly, quieting down after that. The atmosphere became dense again, words left unsaid. It was weird, he hadn’t ever expected your conversations to ever be this frail, let alone you ever coming back.
The rest of the day went by quickly, the sun set by the time all three of you finished eating. Your grandma had asked him about different topics, mostly making sure he was well fed and not just running off of junk food like the kids did nowadays.
“Show him out,” Your grandma turned to you.
“Me?” You ask, avoiding your grandma's hand as she began to swat it annoyed. “Why?”
“You ask too many questions,” She replies, making her way back to the kitchen, “Don’t be rude and show him out.”
“Thank you again, auntie!” Jisung calls out.
“Come by again soon!”
You stand quiet for a moment, sighing and sliding on your shoes before walking ahead of him. “You’ve been here more than me, not sure why you'd need help all of a sudden.”
Jisung barely fails to resist a scoff. It’s like you were trying to make him hate you.
The night air is chilly, your arms hiding into themselves to cling for warmth. He held onto the leftovers your grandmother gave him tighter, the atmosphere proving dangerous to so many of his hidden desires.
You led him outside of the gate, your hand hesitating over the lock. “Thank you,” Your voice was soft and genuine, “for visiting my grandma all this time.”
Jisung paused. He wasn’t sure how to reply, not wanting to ruin the moment but also guarding himself from you. He settled with, “I didn’t do it for you.” regretting it only slightly after seeing your reaction. He bit his tongue, hoping you were too lost in your own pout to notice his smile.
“I know that!” You scoff, obviously annoyed.
The tongue biting does himself no favors, his smile so obvious now, even to you who refuses to meet his eye. Your expression is different now, you’re hiding something, he knows you well enough to notice it.
“Just say it.”
“What?” You’re startled, looking up at him just as you did before. You were seriously so cute from this angle. He clears his throat, “You always make that face when you want to say something, so i’m telling you to just say it.”
You pause, like a deer caught in headlights, shaking your head the way you always did when you wanted to get the nerves out.
“What did you mean when you said you wished that was the case?”
He snickered, it was so like you to replay such a simple moment in your mind, a conversation in which he was sure you knew exactly what he meant. He leans in again, hoping you won’t be able to hear his heart palpitating, “Nothing, I was drunk.”
Your brows furrow, “You’re lying,” You call his bluff. He only laughs again. “Tell me, please.”
That please was almost his breaking point, the idea of you begging for him flooding his veins with want. He turns away feeling vulnerable, heat pooling in his stomach that he’s so desperately trying to avoid. “You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.”
He walks away, heading straight for his car with no disruptions. He barely acknowledges the sound of the lock turning, his mind and body racing to leave now before every hint of self respect was lost.
He sat within the driver's seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel with pressure, his head falling forward, a groan escaping his lips. He shouldn’t have come today, he should’ve stayed home and caught up with some very much needed rest.
He needed to forget about you, but it proved to be so much more difficult than just avoiding you. You consumed every fiber of his being, appearing in places he wouldn’t have even imagined, okay maybe your grandma’s house was his fault but you hadn’t been there for the past years so how should he have known.
He felt like he was going insane. Picturing you in the back of his mind after every show, hooking up with a random girl from the bar after his hyungs suggested it just for him to feel like shit after. And finally, when he decided to put all of his efforts into his music, the second he thought maybe he could finally get over you, you came waltzing back into his life.
Even now, as much as he tried to piss you off, he knew. There was no winning, not with you. No, when it came to you, he was at complete mercy to you. The worst part was, you didn’t even know it.
☆ 💫 ☆
You laid in your old bedroom, staring up at the ceiling like it could answer all of life’s biggest mysteries for you. You had texted Giselle saying you’d be staying at your grandma’s for a few days, You weren’t even sure she’d read it with how occupied she was the past few days with some random man she’d met dancing at the bar while you dealt with Jisung trying to sober up.
Speaking of the devil, he was the reason you were even awake this late. You had fixed your sleep schedule the first few days of landing, who knew an awkward dinner with your– Jisung.
He’d left after whatever the hell kind of conversation that was, and he didn’t even say bye! Not that you needed it but it would’ve been nice.
You had been replaying the conversation from earlier in the night in your mind. He didn’t have to be so condescending, since when did he become so.. so stupid!
You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.
The worst part is the way he said it. You locked the door as quickly as you could the second he walked away, your heart racing at his attitude. Your cheeks were flushed, your grandma pointed out as she asked why you were so red before you ran up to your room to avoid her.
You reached for the pillow beside you, pulling it over your face as you hid yourself in shame. You were very close to screeching in it, stopping yourself because then you’d have to admit seeing him did something to you.
You let out a sigh, disconnecting your face from the pillow, trying to ease your mind into thinking about something else. You still hadn’t spoken to your mom, you weren’t sure what the woman was planning since it’s the longest time you’ve gone without contacting her about your every move since you lived with your grandma. For some reason you had an overwhelming sense of danger, like there was a ticking time bomb that was close to exploding any second now.
Great, what an amazing way to get your mind off of the raven haired man. Who would’ve thought thinking about how terrible the things were that you had left behind could snap some sense into you. What happened earlier meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. There was too much in jeopardy if you were to admit anything you felt about Jisung, and honestly you were already in deep enough trouble.
As you stepped back into Aeri’s apartment, using her spare key to lock the door you jumped at the sight of a shirtless man in front of you.
“I’m sorry!” The handsome stranger apologized, calling out to your roommate who walked into the room like this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Hey.” Aeri walked forward, snatching the bag of leftovers from your hands, peeking into it and observing the food like a vulture.
“Grandma couldn’t help but pack up every last bit of leftovers, said we wouldn’t eat anything otherwise.”
Giselle smiled mischievously, “Send her my regards,” your friend makes her way towards the kitchen, not before eyeing her boy toy who was still standing there, chest out. “Put some clothes on, freak.”
You and Aeri sat down on her table, her fling, that you’d learned was named Eric, long gone as he had some kind of business to take care of. She was scarfing down all of the food you brought back while you sat in front of her with a full stomach from breakfast, a drink in hand.
“What’s wrong with you,” She asked, mid bite of kimchi fried rice. “You look like you barely slept.”
“Nothing,” You regretted answering back so quickly, maybe if you hadn’t then you could’ve hid everything for a bit longer. But your friend could slice you open and dissect you easily.
She set down her spoon, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”
Let’s see, there were actually way too many things that happened. For starters, your best friend made an appearance at your grandma's house where it turns out he’s been visiting since the day you left town. There was also the fact that for some odd reason you felt like your chest was going to burst after the first full conversation that you shared with him in a long time.
There were other things, like France and everything you were so scared to talk about because then it would be put into reality and you’d have to actually face your problems face on. The calls from your mother that were becoming more and more persistent these days and it only put into perspective how much time was running out and would eventually catch up to you.
Sometime during your short existential crisis, Aeri’s expression changed from that of suspicion to worry. “You don’t have to talk about it!”
You nodded forcefully, your brain on overdrive, taking a drink from your glass and hoping that the water would be enough to cool your brain back into its normal setting.
Aeri contemplates for a second and you could practically see the lightbulb light up above her head as an idea sparks through her mind. “I have an idea!”
“I couldn’t notice.” You reply dryly.
“Come with me, tonight.”
That’s right, that Eric guy had mentioned some DJ gig he had at some club across town tonight, inviting the two of you to attend with free drink vouchers he had attained as per agreement with the club owner.
You weren’t so sure going out would help sort your thoughts out, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that a few free drinks sounded very convincing at this moment. You wanted to let loose enough that you could barely count your problems on one hand, and what better way to do that than a night of alcohol? What’s the worst that could happen?
Aeri’s never ending connections never really seemed to phase you these days. The two of you had made it into the club faster than you’d ever made it into anywhere in your life. The air outside was way too cold for you to be in the outfit you had on but Aeri refused to let you go out without either a skirt or dress three inches above your knee. So here you stood in line to pick up a glass of really anything strong, three shots of soju deep that wasn’t hitting hard enough for your liking.
Your friend had been escorted on stage about an hour ago, joining Eric’s side as he played music that was actually not so bad considering he was a man. Your body swayed to the rhythm of the music as you awaited your mystery drink from the cute bartender who had complimented your boots, after which she introduced herself as Heejin.
“Thank you!” You shouted over the loud music as she slid over the mystery glass, earning a warm smile from her before she moved onto the next drink.
You crossed through the crowd with your drink pressed tightly beside you as you tried to navigate through the group of people surrounding the bar to make it back to the front of the dance floor that had become more chaotic than before as the night went on.
The music was loud enough to fill your entire body, the heavy bass sounding through your every cell. You tried squeezing through a couple that were a little over crossing the line of dancing and full on intercourse, catching your balance as you tripped a bit over someone’s foot.
You breathed out a sigh, regretting your choice of drink when the shots had clearly traveled their journey from your stomach into your veins, the buzz taking its effect on you. Aeri waved from above, Eric’s hands around her waist as he back hugged her. You had a feeling your friend might keep this guy a bit longer than she usually did.
You took sips of your drink, trying to get through whatever insane mixture it was, plugging your nose as you chugged it down. Better to drink the rest of it before the buzz wore off and you ended up with a shitty drink in your hand.
More songs passed, time moving on what felt like another dimensional plane. You were just as buzzed as you wanted to be, aware enough to take care of yourself and drunk enough to not overthink it. You danced and danced, until your drink was completely finished, opting to get water just so you wouldn’t die of dehydration.
Before you could reach the bar a random dancer bumped into you a little harshly, almost knocking you over if it weren’t for the hand at your waist catching you. You sucked in a breath, the familiar scent of citrus with an underlying woody aroma masking the slightest hint of smoke, there was no way.
His voice was low with warning when he spoke from behind you, “Watch where you’re going.” He directed towards the man who had knocked into you. Your skin buzzed, his touch warm and comforting even if you convinced yourself the last thing you wanted was to see him again.
The man uttered an apology, leaving you to turn and face the man you had been drinking to forget all night.
“Should I refer to you as my personal stalker now?”
He chuckled though it sounded fake, “A babysitter sounds more like it when i’m the one always having to watch over you.”
You scoff, “I didn’t need you just now.”
“Yeah i’m sure you would’ve much rather fell straight on your ass.”
His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every fiber of your appearance. You resisted a blush, being seen in such a spectacle by him was out of the ordinary, his usual calm demeanor faltering at the result of your mini skirt. There’s a new sense of warmth pooling in your stomach, one you can’t blame on the alcohol, you brush it off.
“What do you want Jisung? Are you here to kill the mood?”
“I’m here because I spotted a lost kitten that needed rescuing.”
The nickname should gross you out more than it really does. You frown, this time really taking in the appearance of the man. On the surface he looked just about as irritating as usual, sporting a grey graphic tee you could successfully guess was a band from the eighties worn atop a pair of distressed jeans. You looked up at him, his face and neck the slightest shade of rose.
“You’re drunk.” It’s not a question, more so a state of disbelief.
“Buzzed now,” He doesn’t even deny it, “sobered up outside about an hour ago.”
He must’ve still been drunk enough to be so willing to share that, regardless you laugh, as if you caught him committing a crime. “Wow, I can’t believe I get to see Park Jisung drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“No?” You raise a brow, stepping closer to him. You were glad to have caught him like this, it was so much easier to read him when he was buzzed. You took notice of every detail he could give you, the way his breath hitched just as you moved forward, the way his eyes trailed over your face falling onto your lips, and the way his brows crinkled with worry as if he was holding onto every last ounce of his sanity.
“Don’t,” He whispered, more so to himself than you. You were having a bit of fun now, the game of cat and mouse the two of you played since the moment you spotted him on stage now giving you the upper hand. You debated playing with him a little more, ultimately deciding to take a different approach.
“Fine.” You smirked, pulling away from him, his disapproval evident in the way his face fell flat as you widened the distance.
You turned away, not really sure where exactly you were going but knowing he was following close behind anyway.
“Where are you going?”
You snigger, “I thought you didn’t want me here.”
He was so easy right now, excuse you if you wanted to keep the upper hand for a while longer. There were less people here than where the two of you stood moments prior, the lights from the dance floor dimmed from this section of the club.
“You’re being childish.” He called out, making you turn on your heel.
“Why?” You're back in his face, this time all fire. “Because i’m doing just as you wanted?”
He smiles, this time approvingly. A sense of uneasiness fills you, second guessing just how much of this interaction was really you having the upper hand.
“Is that what you’re doing?” He asks, his voice a low whisper barely audible over the music if you weren’t so hyperaware of everything he says or does, he gets even closer. “Or are you just being fussy cause I didn’t want to kiss you?”
It was the first time any of you had come so close to acknowledging the tension the two of you built up. Your heart skipped a beat, what you could only assume was the alcohol telling you to lean into him closer.
“Is that the truth?” You finally build the courage to speak, taking note of Jisung’s gaze fixated on your lips. “Cause If I could make one guess right now, I’d say you’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He replies, though he doesn’t sound like he’s even convinced himself.
“Then prove it.”
The last thing you wanted was for him to leave you hanging, but call it an inkling or a gift of the prophecy, a part of you knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Not with the way his hand had somehow found its way around your waist again, pulling you even closer than you’d been moments prior.
You were always the impatient type, so it was you who ultimately gave in, leaning into him to finally close the distance that felt like it was holding on by a thread. He reacted slowly, his breath hitching as your mouth met his, the kiss experimental yet powerful. Before either of you could deepen it you pulled away, a part of you waiting for a reaction you were honestly quite terrified of. You were beginning to turn away when you felt him move, his grip on your wrist firm but not uncomfortable as he spinned you to meet his eyes once more.
You barely had a chance to apologize when he kissed you. This time without the worry of the two of you finding out just how much each other wanted this, this time with both your hearts on the line. You kissed each other roughly, all of the pent up anger from before taking its course in the way you tasted each other.
It felt like a zap of electricity through you. The way his palm cupped your face as the kiss became heavier, every second building the very fire you had been fighting against.
You’d never expected any of this, and though you knew in the back of your mind that every part of this was wrong and that you couldn’t stay here forever, you pushed it back into the corner.
The both of you tore away from each other for a moment to breathe, the look in your eyes suggesting that the last thing you wanted was to be apart.
“Bathroom?” You suggested the first place you could think of that wasn’t far enough to give you both time to second guess anything.
He laughed, your heart churned at the idea that he might’ve changed his mind, but that same panic ceased when he spoke.
“I know one place better.”
☆ 🎸 ☆
You had barely given Jisung anytime to shut the door and twist the lock before capturing his lips into yours again. He thought back through the night, the glimpse he’d gotten of you passing through the bar that he convinced himself was a ghost of his imaginations now standing in front of him, tasting of alcohol and something sweet as you kissed him with no worries in the world.
He had brought you to one of the private rooms this club had that he only found out through the guys’ excessive use of them. Every club this big had made for VIP guests and of course musicians, though they weren’t that famous enough to have access to that begged the question of how Jeno had secured access to this place. A thought that slipped his mind the second your tongue swiped against his bottom lip for permission to deepen the kiss.
He accepted, your mouths clashing in what was all desperate in a drunk frenzy. You let out a low moan, one that only made his pants grow tighter.
You pulled back, all confidence from earlier gone, your eyes hazed and cheeks flushed as you finally took a moment to soak up the surrounding area. He held back a smile, you looked like you were trying your hardest to stay on this plane of existence, trying to calm your heavy breathing.
“What’s this place?”
“Exclusive VIP room.” He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Your face slipped for just a split moment. He thought maybe saying that would give you ideas, ones he didn’t want you to have of him. He opened his mouth to speak again but you cut him off, a shimmer of mischief in your eyes as you noticed the couch sitting against the wall of the room.
“Well since you know this place so well,” You tugged his arm towards the couch, giving him space to take a seat before climbing on top of him. “Why don’t you let me take the lead?”
Jisung knew his ears were hot to the touch, hoping it at least came off as the alcohol even though his body told enough to point out that you were the reason alone for his current state of disarray. His hands found their way around your hips as you connected lips again, this one building up to be heavier than the ones before.
The needy sounds you made before pulling away just to kiss around his throat, you wanted to mark him as your own, not knowing just how much he had already been yours. He let out a groan when your hips rocked against him incidentally, or maybe not when you smiled so proudly before grinding down again, this time with much more intention.
His voice came out breathy, “You’re drunk.” He repeated your words from earlier to you. His grip on your hips tighter, trying to keep you from pressing down against his growing erection.
“So are you.”
There was another meaning to the excuse, the both of you knowing internally how much was on the line. The last thing Jisung wanted to do was to let you go, it had been a century since he last felt your touch and he couldn’t imagine going through it all over again, but the last thing he wanted was for you to change your mind in the morning.
“I don’t want you to regret this,” He spoke probably the most honest that he’d been with you in a long time.
Your palm cups his face, staring into his soul when you reply. “I’ve never regretted any moment i’ve ever shared with you.”
You kiss him again, this one short yet burning with the shared promise that he accepts. His breath is knocked out as you both find the same quick rhythm as before. It’s all breathing and taking in each other with every suck of skin now, bruises forming on your delicate neck that he couldn’t resist but to taint just as you did to him.
You shift above him giving enough space for him to slip your petty excuse of a skirt up, your panties soaking with your arousal. He pulls you directly on his fully hard bulge in his pants, a loud moan pulled from your lips as you feel the stimulation to your clit even through the fabric.
“Fuck–“ You curse loudly, his strong hands forcing you to move harder against him. “Sung please.”
Jisung wasn’t sure just how much harder he could get, the plea in your voice going straight to his dick. He loved just how needy you could get, even though you refused to admit it every time he pushed you to that point. You were full of pride, that’s why it was so fun to play with you, to see that facade break and to get you to admit every truth you had hidden, one by one.
He wanted to test your limits now, and what better way to do that than talk to you just as you really wanted. “Come on darling,” he reused the old nickname that always worked on you, “I thought you were the one taking the lead?”
You groaned out in part annoyance and pleasure, “F- fuck you.”
“Maybe next time,” He smirked, capturing your lips again, sucking up your moans while helping you chase your high. Your thighs felt like fire, grinding faster and rougher against him, his groans matching yours as the both of you felt your climax approaching.
Jisung’s mind slipped into imagining another scenario in which you were riding his thigh all by yourself. He couldn’t help but think about how lucky he’d feel being used by you to get yourself off almost coming in his pants just thinking about it.
“Ji please i’m so close,” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts and instead to take in the you who was right in front of him. Your panties proved you right, wetter than before and soaking up all of the juices that fought to come out of you.
He knew he wasn’t that far from finishing either, the last time he jerked off being a month ago so the dry spell wasn’t helping him last longer anyway. “Me too darling, come with me.”
The nickname triggered your orgasm, your juices spilling out of you as you clenched around nothing, wishing you could have come with him inside you and not just from the pressure on your clit. Nonetheless your body felt like you had just reached nirvana.
“I’m sorry my darling girl,” Jisung whispered a quick apology when he heard your whine, the last few movements overstimulating you but enough to get him off untouched. He bit his lip, holding in his sounds as he came in his pants, feeling all kinds of relief with a mixture of embarrassment now since the last time he came in his pants was back in high school.
“Fuck,” he sounded breathless, looking down to see the wet mark you left on his jeans, his cock firming slightly at the sight.
The room was silent, except for the muffled music from outside where the club was still in full swing. Your body was warm, slumped against him in an almost domestic way. His hand found its way to your hair, scratching your head and earning a small purr of comfort from your lips.
He’s not sure how long the two of you sat like that, time had lost all meaning when he was surrounded by you. Your voice trembled out almost regretfully, “We shouldn’t do this again.”
He knew it was coming just as it did before, the memories of the shared night between the two of you right before you completely disappeared springing into his mind again.
“I wouldn’t ever hurt you.” He whispered to you, oblivious to how your fear never stemmed from him hurting you. You stopped yourself from crying, knowing everything that he didn’t.
You kissed him over and over again, as many times as you could hoping it would convey your deepest affections to him.
His heart beamed, every single moment of happiness in his life could never result to the way he felt now. And when you pulled back this time, you met his eyes so full of love that you were so scared of admitting yourself. He always wore his feelings for you so open and honest.
“I want you,” You spoke slowly at first, hoping that he’d understand what you meant without having to finish the sentence. He sat there innocently, brows furrowed. You let out a shaky breath, “I want you to be my first.”
The night that almost felt like a dream now, one that he could never forget. One that he was aware of that ended with you never speaking to him again and not coming back for five years.
With that he sighed, “You’re right.”
And though the two of you seemingly didn’t want whatever any of this was, none of you took the initiative to leave. Clinging onto the silence like it was the only way you could keep time frozen, and keep hold of one another.
Part Three: Mid December
Stained Glass Eyes and Colorful Tears
☆ 💫 ☆
You really did mean it when you said you shouldn’t do this again, it’s not your fault that somehow for the past few weeks the two of you ended up meeting up more than once.
His hands made towards your shirt, removing the garment with a swift motion as he pinned you against the door. You caught his lips, biting down enough to make him wince before wiping your tongue over the spot.
He pulls away chuckling, wiping at his mouth with his thumb. “You’re impatient today.”
You don’t deny it, instead further proving his point by removing his shirt. He smiles and you can’t help but want to wipe the stupid cockiness off his face. Instead of biting his face off you kiss him again, hot and heavy. There was nothing you needed more than him right now.
He seemed to feel the same, or at least understand how badly you’d been wanting him since the second you showed up unwarranted at the Oblivion practice room. You knew he was going to be busy all week, so why not stop by for a quick greeting in holiday spirits.
“You’re busy aren’t you?” You reply to his earlier statement, unbuttoning his pants as he kissed down your neck. You can feel him laugh from where he stands, pulling away from you ever so slightly making you pout. Why did he always have to drag it out? You could probably show up with nothing but his T-shirt on and a pair of panties under and he’d probably still find a way to make you whine before giving in.
“No, not for another thirty minutes until the guys come in.”
You shrug, “We have enough time then.” Your hand reaches into where you undid his pants, pulling a sharp gasp from the raven haired man.
He groans before grabbing your wrist, “You’re really going to regret starting this.”
Maybe you were, but it’s not like your mind was fixed on how this arrangement would ruin everything and only create more chaos, right now you just needed to touch him and preferably get off some time within the next half hour.
He gave in, lifting you up where your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the relaxing side of the room filled with a mini fridge, bean bag chairs, and finally a couch that he set you down on.
“Are you gonna fuck me now?” You said blatantly. It wasn’t that you both hadn’t gone the whole way, for fucks sake you’d fucked before you even left in the first place, but you knew for some reason he was holding back from completely giving in. The last few hook ups were mostly handjobs or his tongue and fingers but you were starting to grow a little more desperate. Clearly.
He ignores your question, pulling your pants off of you and eyeing the set you had slipped on with no ulterior motives, truly. You were only trying to see if maybe lingerie was more his style, who were you to decline him if he finally decided to get you off with more than just his fingers?
“Darling,” His voice was laced with want as he took in just how much you were dolled up for him. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“That depends,” you muttered, “is it working?”
He dives back onto your lips, answering with his tongue because talking was overrated anyway. You moaned into the kiss, gripping onto his back, the muscular muscle was admittedly not what you were expecting when you first saw him without a shirt but it was not something you were opposed to either.
You whined into his mouth as he pulled away again, all frustrations bursting as you cried out, “Are you fucking serious?”
He giggled, like you were a damn comedian and not two seconds away from pinning him down and riding him until you could finally feel relief. The bastard would probably find a way to make you beg even if that were the case. That was a great tactic for another day though.
“Relax,” He uttered, kissing down your neck and chest all the way until he reached your lower belly, to which he liked a stripe just over the hem of the fabric. You sucked in a breath, he was so close to where you needed him now, his breath fanning against your clothed cunt that began clenching down on nothing, just desperate to be touched.
“Fuck Darling your thighs,” He sucked down on them everywhere that he could. “You don’t know how many times i’ve imagined them, how much i’ve been holding back from leaving them without any marks every time you showed up in front of me with your legs on full display.”
His fingers smoothed over your skin, the redness blooming against your thighs where the bruises had already begun to form. He lifted your legs up sliding off your panties before throwing them over his shoulder. Your heart raced, was he finally giving in?
He pulled his hard length out of his jeans, pumping his huge size twice for good measure. You salvitated at the sight, it was long with a slight girthiness, a long thick vein passing through the middle just barely meeting his pink tip. You’d gotten a taste before and could barely wrap your whole mouth around it without gagging let alone the whole length. You imagined taking it now with zero prep.
“Wait!” You called out, “I don’t think it’ll fit just like that sungie.”
It definitely wouldn’t, but you didn’t want to kill the vibe when you’d been begging him to fuck you for days.
He chuckled, “I know baby, so keep your legs closed tight for me alright?”
You didn’t have time to ask, you felt his size squeeze between your thighs, the wetness of your arousal being the only form of lubrication as his cock slid against your cunt. You let out a high pitch moan as he made contact with your clit.
He holds onto your legs, keeping them from moving as he slowly begins to thrust. You felt the air knocked out of your lungs, the feeling so pleasurable and despite the fact that he wasn’t fucking you it felt like he was.
“Fuck–“ You whine as he built a pace, the slide rough and desperate. You hardly had any control with how good it felt, your entire body was like putty.
He groaned, “Come on darling, keep your legs tight it’ll feel better.”
You nodded, closing your eyes as you tried your hardest to keep your voice quiet which proved to be harder than you were expecting with how insane every movement rubbed your clit. Jisung was out of breath, probably using up what was the last of his control to make sure not to completely slip inside you.
His hand came forward suddenly, undoing the clasp of your bra. Before you could ask, you felt as he began to fondle your breasts, teasing his thumb against your sensitive nipple. You were about to moan when you heard it. The muffled sound of his phone ringing from wherever the fuck he’d left it in this room.
He let out a groan that you only assumed was annoyance, choosing to disregard the call to focus on getting the both of you off. You were close, you felt it in the way your legs shook and the pressure in your stomach threatened to snap. Jisung didn’t look like he was going to last much longer either, his hold on your legs faltering as his thrusts became sloppier.
“Ji- jisung please,” Your body was threatening to release at any moment now, when suddenly you felt him slip, the tip of his cock sliding ever so slightly into your pussy. It stung but it was enough to finally trigger your orgasm, a desperate plea of his name over and over again until you finally came down from your high.
His ruts continued this time at a faster pace as he reached his own peak, the cum spilling out of you helping him slide against you faster. “Fuck baby i’m gonna cum.”
You nodded, a whine leaving your lips as he finished, a few final movements to milk out his orgasm. You fought to keep your eyes open, watching the way his warm liquid covered your stomach, clenching at the thought of it filling you instead.
He tried to steady himself as he came down, bringing one of his hands up to run through his hair where small beads of sweat had formed. The room was silent save for the two of you trying to catch your breaths. A few seconds later you felt him move followed by a piece of fabric on your stomach.
“Sorry,” he whispered shyly. You almost laughed, the cuteness of his just too adorable to go unnoticed.
“It’s okay, I liked it.”
The tips of his ears had gone red, and you knew he was embarrassed because he avoided any eye contact with you, instead cleaning off the, honestly impressive, amount of cum he’d left on you as well as what was dripping down your thighs.
When he finished he helped you slide your clothes back on, the act being a bit intimate if you thought about it too much. So you didn’t, instead paying all of your attention to his body that you wished you appreciated more in the moment. He was fairly sculpted, his abs detailed, you wanted so badly to run your hands against them.
“Are you already imagining round two?” He broke the silence, the shyness from earlier replaced with his same old cocky demeanor, only this time instead of it making you want to strangle him, you found yourself smiling.
“Hmm. Maybe,” You fake a thought, “now i’m thinking about the next time you’ll be free.”
He smiles, and for the first time in a long time you feel your heart beat faster remembering just how happy it made you to make him smile. You allow yourself this moment now, being close enough to him that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. It wouldn’t last long that’s for sure, but you knew this time at least he wouldn’t be the one with his heart on the line.
“There’s a festival we have booked next week, a Christmas one,” He starts, voice low, “I’d want you to go.”
You don’t even allow yourself time to think about it, already having known about the festival since Aeri had brought it up a few weeks ago, granted at the time you didn't know that their band was part of the performing list but it made the decision to go easier.
“Then I will.”
It was a simple answer, one he appreciated a lot by the way his cheeks reddened. He was about to speak when there was a knock from the door. His eyes widened in horror, picking up his phone from where it was long forgotten on the floor to check the time.
He rushed forward to throw on his clothes, the frightened hamster look on his face getting worse with every knock. You had to hold in a laugh, the situation just too awkward to fully process.
You stood up as casual as you could look with your hair tussled, skin slick with sweat, and a subtle shake in your legs. Jisung ran towards the door with you following right behind him to take the exit as soon as he opened it.
He opened it, revealing a tan skinned man who looked not at all happy. “Hey,” The guy you now recognized as the lead singer from up on stage spoke, “What the fuck took you so damn long, i’ve been waiting here in the freezing cold!”
“Don’t you have a key?” Jisung replies.
“I lost that shit two weeks ago,” he pauses, “don’t tell Mark.”
It’s only then that the man registers you, not having noticed you standing right behind Jisung’s tall frame. His brows raised, like he was trying to decipher who the hell you were and why you were in their practice room when Jisung wasn’t really the type to bring a fan into their spaces. He runs his eyes over the two of you, noting the disheveled hair and clothes.
Right when the guy was about to speak to you, Jisung grabbed onto your hand, and with a quick kiss to your cheek, he helped you sneak around the other male, muttering a “See you soon, darling.” As you did your best to scurry away before the man could ask you any questions.
“It was nice meeting you?” The man yells almost like a question.
You find yourself laughing the second you’ve put enough distance, what should’ve felt way more embarrassing felt ecstatic. One thing was for certain, you would never regret him.
☆ 🎸 ☆
“Alright everyone, we can take a break now.” Mark uttered, setting down his guitar to begin stretching his arms.
This practice had lasted roughly two hours so far. Usually Jisung would be dying for a break when they hit the hour and half mark but this time he was anything but happy about it.
“Yo Jisung Park,” Donghyuck set the mic down, running towards Jisung in record time speed, stopping him as he made his way over to the mini fridge. “You gonna come clean now? ”
Jisung rolled his eyes, Donghyuck had been dying to get more information out of him he knew it because throughout practice after every song the brunette would stare at him with an uncomfortable smirk on his face. He was only able to avoid it because Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin all came in a minute after you left. When Jisung refused to acknowledge the singer he only added, “Or maybe you already did that.”
He was seconds away from shushing him until Jaemin joined the conversation. Poking into Jisung’s arm, “What’s this guy on about, huh? You keeping secrets now?”
Jisung barely had time to speak when Jeno suddenly spoke from beside him, “Ah ah we don’t allow secrets here.”
“Didn’t you keep a secret about hooking with Mark’s noona?” Jisung spat towards Jaemin, his wide smile never leaving his face.
“Anymore,” the lead guitarist replied, “We don’t keep secrets anymore.”
“I forgave him a long time ago,” Mark shrugged, an apple in his hand as he took a seat in one of the bean bags. “So what’s got Hyuck on your ass?”
Donghyuck answered before Jisung could, not that he would’ve since he’d recently gotten really good at stalling, “Jisung brought a girl here.”
Jaemin gasped in his typical dramatic flare, “When was this?”
“Earlier today!” Donghyuck answered, earning a scowl from Jisung that he ignored, “She left right before you guys showed up.”
“What about it?” Jisung retorted, patience waning, “You guys bring girls over all the time.”
“That’s true for most of us, but what’s surprising is that it was you.” Mark answered, biting into his apple.
“That’s not all either–“
“Donghyuck don’t–“
“A hunch of mine tells me she’s more than just a friend or a fan.”
That got Jeno’s attention, “Oh? Do we know her?”
Jisung rolled his eyes. Out of all of the people in this room that could’ve found out, why did it have to be Donghyuck?
“We’ve definitely heard of her, my guess is it’s that friend from highschool. Ning, was it?”
“Couldn’t be, i’ve met her and I'm like ninety-nine percent sure her type is not Jisung.” Mark adds.
“Jisungie wouldn’t just sleep with anyone, this has to be someone important to him.” Jaemin pondered.
Jisung groaned, “Who said anything about sleeping–“
“Quiet, hyungs talking,” Jaemin fluttered his lashes, “So if I were Park Jisung and i’m bringing a girl back that I don’t want my hyungs to see then it would have to be—“ He turns around, facing everyone as he snaps his finger, “Mark’s noona.”
“Man?” Mark frowns from where he’s sitting.
Jisung resists the urge to argue when Donghyuck speaks again, “Wasn’t her, I saw the girl. She’s hot alright, might even be a bit out of your league.”
“Who would it be then,” Jeno asks aloud, taking a shot in the dark with his next answer, “Y/N?”
Jisung knows just how obvious he is when the sound of your name alone is enough to make him freeze.
“Y/N?” Donghyuck practically shouts, “the same y/n that disappeared half way across the world?”
Jisung knew one of these days he’d regret going out for drinks with his friends and showing up back at the apartment wasted. Unfortunately for him, he becomes quite the chatterbox after one too many drinks, and his favorite topic is you.
“No fucking way!”
“When did she come back?”
“Can we meet her?”
He ignored all of the questions they asked, looking to Mark desperately for some help, since he was the only one who they all really listened to. Mark cleared his throat, “Guys come on don’t pressure him if he doesn’t wanna talk about it then he doesn’t need to.” Jisung smiled, thankful for Mark’s effort to back him up.
Mark stood up from his seat then, tossing the core of his now finished apple into the trash, “But I am curious on what she was doing here.”
Jisung shut his eyes in disbelief but mostly just acceptance, the rest of the guys starting over with their round of questions until he finally decided to shut it down. “Fine. Yes, I was with y/n. Yes, she did come back and it was a few weeks ago. And no you can not meet her if you guys keep acting like this.”
Donghyuck points and laughs at the others, “I already met her.”
Jisung’s face goes red, he turns away trying to avoid any and all eye contact as he walks towards the mini fridge, Mark really made that apple look good.
“Uh Oh he’s hiding something!” Jaemin cackles maniacally. Jisung still wonders what makes women attracted to him and not just want to file a restraining order on him, he was clearly insane.
“Wait.” Donghyuck thinks for a moment. Looking back on when he first ran into Jisung and you, the way you both stood like deers in headlights, how protective he was of you, the way you wobbled away. “Oh my god. You guys were fucking in here weren’t you?”
Jisung took a second too long to dismiss the older’s claim, the others collectively gasping as they realized Donghyuck was right.
“I knew it!” Donghyuck cried, “Oh my god Jisung. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“We didn’t fuck!” Jisung replied since technically it was true, you both hadn’t gone all the way.
“Man please don’t tell me it was where I was sitting.” Mark’s frown grew worried.
“We didn’t have sex on the bean bag Mark,” Jisung reassured the guitarist, him sighing in relief.
“But you did have sex.”
Jisung groaned, if he had to admit it just to get the rest to shut up then perhaps what was the harm. He thought back to you. If he admitted that the two of you had a sex life and that wasn’t something you wanted everyone to know, he would never forgive himself. In the end he let the guys do what they do best.
Theorize.
“If they did have sex it would’ve had to have been on the couch.” Jaemin concluded like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Jeno shook his head, “Gross man, I nap there sometimes.”
“Alright guys that’s enough, break is over.” Mark called, the rest of the guys groaning as they walked back to their places, tuning and adjusting their instruments.
Jisung was about to walk back with the group when Mark stopped him, “Look, i’m not going to bug you or anything but I just want to make sure that you know what you’re doing. You’re not just my bandmate you’re all like a family to me, and I know things didn’t end too well with y/n the last time so I just want you to know,” He took in a breath. “I’m here for you.”
Mark always meant what he said, and though he wasn’t the type to meddle as the others did, he only took a step in when he wanted to make sure everything was okay. He cared a lot about the guys, and in the same way he said it, Jisung always viewed him the same way. Growing up an only child they were the closest thing to brothers that he would ever have. And since he didn’t really have his family around, all he had was them.
He nodded at Mark, “Don’t worry, I have a good feeling about this time.” Mark hummed, making his way towards his own place, Jisung following right after him.
☆ 💫 ☆
“You’ve been suspiciously busy lately,” Aeri stated as she observed you from where she sat in the living room, eyeing your body from head to toe.
“Good afternoon to you too?” You said, unscrewing the cap from the water bottle you stopped at the kitchen to grab, gulping down the liquid because running away after sex really did make you dehydrated.
Aeri scrunches her face, “You had sex with Jisung didn’t you?”
You choke on your water, coughing and surprising the girl enough for her to get up to pat your back. Once you finally regain composure you look at her again, contemplating how to answer when your own body practically gave it away. “I—“
“Was probably never going to tell me right?” Aeri rolls her eyes, “you and your darn secrets, have I ever kept a secret from you?”
Right as she says that, a woman you aren’t sure you’ve ever met steps out from her room, a baggy t-shirt on with splotches of red and purple marks on her neck, waving a quick hi before asking where the restroom is, to which Aeri points to the down the hall door to the left.
Your eyebrow arches at your friend, no question needed since she understands exactly what you’re trying to imply. “Yoona isn't a secret!”
Yoona emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, now without the marks on her neck being visible, the power of makeup. She offers a quick bow to the two of you before waving at Aeri to call her later. You make a face as in, hello there’s your secret right there.
Aeri tries again, “Yoona isn’t a secret, she's a new edition!”
“I didn’t even know you were into girls.”
“Yeah well neither did I until I volunteered at the meat association and met a girl named Hazel.”
“What?”
“Not the point,” Aeri changes the subject from her back to you because the two of you had been friends for long enough that she knew how much you loved to deflect. “You’re keeping secrets, you have been since the beginning and usually I would let you just come to me on your own time but now i’m really worried about you.”
You sigh, “Aeri, there’s nothing for you to worry about I can handle this on my own—“
“Really?” She cuts you off, her tone is far from angry and more so coming from a place of worry, “Cause you’ve been ignoring any and all calls from your mom for the past week that she even somehow found my number and tried to ask if I knew anything about where you were.”
Your heart stopped, suddenly feeling sick. It was stupid to think that your mom would just let you leave, she wasn’t the type. She was calculated, she knew how to handle things. Of course she wasn’t going to just allow for you to leave without knowing exactly where you were going. The call to Aeri wasn’t really her asking, it was a warning to you.
“Hey,” Aeri calls out again, “I’m not mad or anything I’m just worried. Jisung is my friend too, and I know that if you’re getting involved with him again and this ends up the same way as before then— I really don’t know how he will react a second time.”
You take in a breath, thinking over her words. Your leaving wasn’t going to affect Jisung, the two of you barely started hanging out together you were sure you meant at most, nothing to the guy other than someone he felt comfortable enough sleeping with. The only one who was going to end up heartbroken was going to be you, and you’d make sure of it.
“Jisung doesn’t like me, not like he used to.” You respond flatly, though now a part of you isn’t sure how true that is anymore.
“Okay,” Aeri sighs in defeat, “If that’s what you think.”
You stand still for a moment, your friend taking her seat on the couch once more as if the conversation had never happened, because Aeri was like that. If you weren’t going to come clean then she wasn’t going to force you to, but she sure as hell was going to make sure you thought things over a bit.
The festival was much more packed than you had expected, with loads of trucks and vendors surrounding the place targeting any and all visitors who were awaiting their favorite bands' sets to begin. You took a deep breath, the anxiousness in your body only getting worse since you first started getting ready with Aeri earlier in the day.
You were a bit nervous, but more specifically shy to see Jisung perform. He mentioned that he would more than likely be busy most of the day, but he’d definitely find you after the show because there was a lot he needed to tell you. So now you stood here, Aeri having escaped from your grip to go check out some candy apple stand that honestly you should’ve gone to check out with her but the idea of eating anything right now only made you feel like you’d vomit.
It didn’t help that you dressed up with a skirt, the pair of linen tights were the only thing keeping you from freezing since you had forgotten to bring a thicker jacket. The sun would be setting soon, so you hoped that the crowd would be able to produce enough uncomfortable heat that would help keep you from freezing.
You let Aeri know that you were going to be waiting around, maybe checking a few early performances before Oblivion had to go in, scheduled about an hour from now. So you did, squeezing through a few people to hear this newer up and coming band called Cosmic Love.
By the third song you felt a sneaky hand wrap around your waist, a gasp pulled from your throat at the contact before you noticed who exactly it was. Behind a stupid black cap that barely hid his eyes, and a black mask that at least did a little better at not giving the man’s identity away if it weren’t for you being able to recognize his tall lanky figure in an instant.
“You’re cheating?” He teased, looking over at the band that were still performing on stage.
“It’s a girl band i’m cheering for, is that still considered cheating?”
He nods as if it were obvious, making you erupt in giggles that you were lucky weren’t loud enough to drag the audience's eyes onto you both. Jisung wasn’t exactly unknown, the band had a pretty solid fanbase now so people noticing the Oblivion’s bassist out in the crowd would definitely pull a reaction.
You can tell he’s smiling through his uncovered eyes. He leans in closer, pulling the mask down slightly to whisper, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
You agree, holding onto his hand as he drags you away, music fading into the background. The two of you make it to what you assume is the artist's rooms, groups of trailers with different names written all over the place, leading you to the one with Oblivion written on it.
The room is silent, except for the distant music that you could hear from the stage being only a few feet away. You looked around, taking in the room around you. The heater was definitely on, since it was warmer than outside, other than that it was pretty empty. Most of the space was taken up with the band's equipment and a random table with uno cards left all over it.
You raised a brow, grabbing onto one of the cards and turning your attention back over to Jisung, who stood coolly, his eyes already on you before you even turned around.
“You brought me here to play uno?”
He laughed, “Yeah, picked you from the crowd just to make you eat four cards.”
“Hey,” you argue playfully, “I’m actually really good at uno!”
He hummed, walking towards you steadily, urging you to continue.
“I’m serious!” You grin just as he finally makes it straight to your face, his hands coming up around your waist again making your heart flutter.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other's scents as he pulls you into his hold. You pray that he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating, or if he did that he at least wouldn’t ask. He smelled the same he always did, only this time slightly of cherries.
“I missed you.” He broke the silence, his voice barely over a whisper.
You were thankful for the position now, his face in your neck allowing your body to be a bit more vulnerable, warmth spreading on your face with just how intimate the moment felt.
You didn’t have time to respond when the front door slammed open, a group of men walking in with one who you recognized in as the guy who definitely knew you and Jisung were fucking since he had caught you guys a week prior, the other being that dude with a creepy smile. Jisung had already moved away from your hold, well not fully, as his hand still held onto you in an almost protective way.
“You?” your eyes widened, the creepy smile guy making the same expression as you only with his wide smile on display. “You’re that one guy from the hallway!”
“You’re Y/N right?” The lead singer answers, assuming he was the one you were referring to. Your brows furrow, “It was just a hunch, i’m Donghyuck.” He says cutting you off again.
Jisung groans, “What are you guys doing here, I thought you guys were busy sneaking around and grabbing food!”
“Yeah well we did too,” The quiet one with a mole under his eye interrupts, “Until we turned around and noticed our only bassist had disappeared.”
Jisung doesn’t respond to that. You try to hold back a smile, wondering if he had left the group after he spotted you.
Smiley dude sighs walking towards where the two of you stood, “Look it would be different if it were Mark who disappeared, I could cover his parts.”
“Dude?” A man replies who you could only guess was Mark.
“But we don’t have another bassist, so try not just escaping without letting any of us know,” The guy says, patting Jisung's shoulder. “Hey there by the way, long time since I last saw you.”
Jisung turns to you in confusion, “You know Jaemin?”
He doesn’t seem angry when he says it, but you panic anyway hoping there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings, “No! I mean no not really, remember how I told you one of the first days I came back I met some creep who was way too talkative.”
The guys laugh, mostly at Jaemin while Jisung puts two and two together. Jaemin rolls his eyes at the group, “I met her first technically so I’m not sure why you guys are laughing so hard.”
Donghyuck laughs, “Yeah and almost scared her away!”
Jisung tugs you a bit closer, leaning close as the other guys are completely distracted with bullying Jaemin, “He didn’t make you uncomfortable did he?”
You shake your head, “No, I mean he just kind of talks a lot.”
Jisung chuckles, “Yeah unfortunately that’s just how Jaemin is. A man of too many words.”
“I’ll have you know,” Jaemin defends himself to the others, “Many women love how free spirited and confident I am!”
“Oh i’m sure,” Donghyuck replies sarcastically, ignoring the other to look closely at the proximity between you and Jisung. He walked forward, ignoring Jisung who’s obviously trying to play body guard with how close he’s standing next to you, Hyuck could laugh, Jisung was always so obvious.
“Hello!” Donghyuck starts, “You remember me right? I’m the cool lead singer, i’m sure you at least remember my voice right?”
You’re about to reply when Jaemin starts, “Ugh can you be any more conceited. Na Jaemin,” He introduces, this time he seems pretty chill without the whole wide smiling in a dark hallway, “amazing guitarist. Have heard a lot about you, didn’t think Jisung was your type.”
“Hey don’t be rude,” Mark warns, taking the time to introduce himself simple enough you think he might be the only normal one. “Mark, i’m the leader. It’s nice meeting you—“
“Darling?” The last one responds, provoking Jisung to get a reaction.
“Jeno—“
“Ah,” you nod in understanding, “so then you guys must already know a lot about me.”
“No not really, we’ve just heard Jisung sleep talk and call out to a Darling a looooot— Ouch!”
Donghyuck earns a slap to his arm.
“That one is Jeno, our drummer,” Jisung hurries the introduction, “Are you guys leaving now?”
“Why would we do that, if you haven’t noticed buddy okie preshow is currently on stage and we’re going up in the next hour, we found you to tell you that you need to hurry up and tune your shit.” Donghyuck replies.
“I would’ve said it in a nicer way,” Mark says, “but he’s right.”
Jisung groaned, it was so like the others to jump in just to tell him to hurry up, if anything Jisung was always the first to get ready, he’d already tuned his shit how was it his fault the guys still hadn’t done their duties.
You smiled, patting on his shoulder. “Hey it’s okay,” You say, “I’ll be in the crowd waiting for you.”
He contemplates for a moment, before coming to an obvious decision. “Go with me, I promise it won’t take long.” You frown, looking over at the others wondering how they’d feel about that. “they won’t mind.” Jisung assures you. He knew you so well that he could practically read your thoughts straight from your head.
“Okay,” you whisper. He smiles, relieved by your answer.
“Alright then,” Mark coughs, bringing all attention to him, “Let’s make this quick, the sooner we finish the sooner we have free time for ourselves.”
The group nods at the guitarist, hurrying out of the trailer. Jisung’s hand never once leaves your own, dragging you with him to be a part of something you never thought you’d ever be in the position to see. Your stomach churns, the wave of anxiety from earlier threatening you as you try to distract yourself from it.
💫/🎸
The guys finished up quicker than you’d thought, well at least most of them did. Jisung had already tuned and did a few practice sessions before he went out with the guys. Now as all of you stood backstage in one of the smaller practice areas, he ran up towards you, “How is it being back here?”
You fake contemplate, “Hmmm, I don’t know, I guess I can see the appeal of groupie life.”
His brows raise, “I’d hope that you just mean me.”
“Who else would it be? The other band from earlier?”
He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand once again and tracing his thumb over your palm, “Do you wanna get out of here?”
“Ji,” You start, looking behind him to see the guys in their own world doing a few practice warmups on their own, “You have like thirty minutes until you have to be on stage.”
“Yeah but what can I do,” He comes in closer, his lips tracing barely a centimeter from your neck, “I want you so badly.”
You bite your lip, hoping to stifle to gasp you almost let free, your neck always so sensitive. He shifts his head, looking into your eyes with his pupils wide, his desire so obvious and enchanting. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to, and right now you wanted him just as much.
The slightest breath of a yes is enough to have him pulling you out from the room, the other guys asking where he’s going to which he ignores since he’s clearly a man on a mission right now.
He led you to a room that was fully empty and a bit crowded. The sound of the pre performers could be heard so clearly from here. “Where’s this place?” You ask, curious.
“Crew room,” He replies coolly as he twists the lock. “Don’t worry, it’s mostly unoccupied since they built the new one on the other side.
He doesn’t give you much time to ask anymore questions before he’s pulling you up into his arms. You yelp, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you onto one of the last few pieces of furniture in the discarded room which happened to be a counter.
“How do you know this?”
He lets out a small breath, his hand coming to your face to admire you. “I made sure to look around before running to get you.”
Of course he did, you could almost laugh now. It seems like the two of you were on the same page of where things were going for tonight. You placed your hand over his own, leaning in to kiss him deeply. Jisung immediately let in, groaning into the kiss needy as ever.
You pulled away to catch a quick breath, Jisung already kissing down your neck to repaint it from the ones he left last week that were already fading. Your hips shift on their own, body begging to be touched.
“Jisung,” You moan his name, he hums, the vibration adding to your arousal with how sensitive your neck was. “Fuck—“
He cuts off any of your previous thoughts, his hands sliding through the thin sweater of yours, through the scrappy shirt you had under to discover you wearing no bra underneath. He groaned, his huge hands cupping your breast to feel you up, thumb tracing over your sensitive nipple making you stifle a moan.
“Ji–“ He pinched, the pain quickly fading into pleasure, your legs wrapping around him tighter, craving any and all kinds of proximity.
“You never told me,” He starts, his other hand moving to lift your skirt up, sliding the fleece tights down, the sudden open air grazing your hot skin. “You never said anything about meeting Jaemin, why?”
His fingers trace over your soaked panties, refusing to fully come into contact with where you needed him most. “What?” You call, voice high and dry and mostly confused.
“You didn’t say it was Jaemin, why?”
“I–“ you squeak out, your brain short circuiting as he pushes his knuckle against your sensitive clit. “I dont–“
He clicks his tongue, “Come on darling,” his knuckle rubs against you with slightly more pressure, “use your words baby.”
“I– I didn’t know his name.” You whined, “Please– Fuck please Jisung.”
Jisung hums in response, “He was trying to impress you earlier, he’s always been an attention fiend,” You felt your heart race, not having expected Jisung to be so overprotective over you. It was super hot. “I guess he’s also trying to get back at me.”
You let out a cry, the pinch to your nipple this time felt stronger, his voice low as he disconnects his hands from where he cupped your tit, "Since I'm the only one who gets to have you like this.”
“Please–“ you beg again, earning another click of his tongue.
“What did I say about using your words?”
“Please Ji I only want you.”
His pupils dilate at your confession, “I know baby, so why don’t we let him know that.”
You let out another sob of pleasure as he moves to undress you, your sweater discarded onto the floor as he lifts your shirt to uncover your chest. He pauses for a split second, “Color?”
“Green– fuck.” You groan. When either of you would take on a rougher play you’d both make sure to have your safe words ready. As much as Jisung seemed mad, he wasn’t, but he knew how much you liked when he pretended to be, taking control over your body and leaving you begging for more.
He yanks your panties down, giving you barely a second to breathe before he’s plunging two of his fingers knuckle deep into your soaked cunt. You moan, the stretch is a bit rough but pleasurable. He stretches them a bit, trying to diminish the pain from the abrupt invasion, your wetness offering enough lubrication for him to push his long and slender fingers deeper, reaching parts of you that you on your own never seem to reach.
You fight a string of curses from leaving your throat, one hand of his pistoling his fingers in and out of you, the other rubbing circles around your tit. You feel like you could cry, the stretch hitting you just right. Your hips raise up, struggling to stay still with how fast he was fucking you with his fingers.
“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, adding another finger. A rush of pleasure running through you with how full you felt, his thumb coming to rub around your clit. “Jisung–“ You cry out, feeling your orgasm coming any moment now.
“Come on,” He says, “cum for me darling.”
With a few last rough thrusts, you squeeze around him, his fingers continuously fucking you at the same speed, milking your orgasm until it’s overwhelming.
You whine, the overstimulation becoming almost unbearable as he continues his movements. “Jisungie please I can’t—“
“Yes you can baby,” He coos, “one more on my fingers, you can do that for me, right?”
There’s tears streaming down your face when you nod, already feeling your second high approaching just around the corner.
“Color?” He asks, his breath heavy like he’s been holding himself back the entire time.
“Green—“ You scream out, cumming for the second time around his fingers.
“There baby I knew you could do it,” He encourages you, his fingers coming to a stop once he notices your face scrunching in discomfort, he slips his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to suck on the arousal you coated them with. He hums, “You taste so sweet, like cherries. Do you wanna taste it?”
You whimper, nodding softly. He kisses you then, this time the heaviness from earlier is all gone. He kisses you like you're delicate, like if he kisses you any harder you will disappear. You can taste yourself on his tongue, sucking on it pulling a groan from him.
“Come on baby,” He says after pulling away, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He’s about to reach down when you hold onto his arm.
“What about you?” You whine, lifting your shaky knee to rub against where his bulge is visible through his pants.
He winces at the touch, “I’ll take care of it on my own.”
You bring your arm forward, cupping him through his pants, “But I want to help you,” you pout, “please baby can I help you?”
Fuck having any self control, Jisung nodded. You pulled him into a deeper kiss, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out from his boxers. You pumped it slowly twice before bringing his tip to your entrance, he winces again wrapping a hand over your own to stop you, “Fuck– are you sure about this?”
You hum, “Please Ji,” You call his name like it’s a prayer, “i’ve wanted you to fuck me for so long.”
He groans, “I don’t have a condom.”
“Please?” Your bordering tears, still fucked out from your two orgasms and yet deperate for more. Ready for him to take you however he wanted. “I’m on the pill, you can finish inside.”
Jisung’s breath catches in his throat, fuck you were not making it easy. He’d wanted you for the longest time, but a part of him was worried that if he gave you this then he’d have to come clean. He looked into your eyes, contemplating his next choice.
He’d been wanting to confess to you, the fear eating him up all this time. He needed to tell you how you never once left his mind, that even for the five years you were gone he couldn’t move on, countless women and yet none of them were you. The way he looked at you now told him enough, your eyes looking into him just as he always looked into yours.
Then it struck him, maybe you did want him just as much as he wanted you. Maybe things were different this time. He invited you today to tell you everything. Well more so sing you everything. One of the many songs he’d written about you that he showed the guys who had no problem adding to the setlist.
You called out his name again, this time soft and sweet. He knew then that the order it played out didn’t really matter, he wouldn’t say no to you. Not when you looked at him like you knew how he felt because you felt it too.
He pulled you in for a kiss again, this time hoping you could read his heart with every breath shared. He lined himself up this time, the tip of his cock red and angry, desperate for your touch.
“Are you sure?” He asks once more.
You nod, “Please.”
He concedes, pushing slowly, allowing your cunt seconds to adjust to his size despite the amount of time he spent stretching you out. You wince, his girth feeling much bigger than you remembered.
“You–You’re too big—“
“It’s okay, darling,” He coos, praising you as you take every single inch of his until finally his hips meet yours. He gives you a moment to adjust, your cries winding down as you adjust to his size.
He lets out a shaky breath, your walls gripping him so tightly. You look at him through tear stained eyes, nodding at him to try moving.
His first few thrusts are agonizingly slow, dragging moans from your lips without even trying. You clench around him causing him to wince in pleasure, “Please go faster”
You feel as his thrusts become sharper, every slide enveloping your entire body in what felt like a higher ground than the one you were on now. You couldn’t even hear yourself only registering the sound of skin slapping skin and his own groans.
And when he angled his cock deeper you screamed out, every thrust hitting your sweet spot.
“Fuck– your taking me so well,” He groaned, “Your pretty pussy was made for me, huh?” You nod. “Come on say it baby,” He thrusts even harder, your voice cutting out as you try to moan.
“‘Was made for you, you croak out. Your body feels numb, completely cock drunk, saliva pooling ever so slightly out of your mouth as he makes you see stars. You feel your orgasm coming too late, clenching down on his cock as you finally cum.
Waves of pleasure hit your body, the sound of knocking not even registering through your brain as you come down. Jisung is quick to follow, his warning coming out just as quickly as yours. You feel as his cum shoots inside of you, soaking your walls and filling you to the brim.
He groans, his final thrust sloppy, pushing his cum in deeper and causing you to whine. Silence fills the room for barely a second, the knocking at the door hard to ignore with how loud it is.
“Yo Jisung, we gotta be out in less than five minutes!” The leader shouted out.
Jisung sucked in a breath, looking at you like a scared hamster. You shook your head like ‘I don’t know I just got fucked to next sunday’.
He cleared his throat calling back to Mark on the other side, “Yeah, I’ll be out.” He cringed, making you laugh.
“Okay yeah just like,” Mark pauses awkwardly before adding, “Clean up fast and hurry the fuck out!”
You laugh, hearing the footsteps leave in quick steps. Jisung looks absolutely horrified.
He gulps, “Do you think they–“
“Heard everything?” You ask rhetorically, “Yeah probably.”
He groans, his head resting on your shoulder for a quick second before he’s quickly moving off of you. He slides out of you, the two of you groaning at the slight sting.
His cum is dribbling out of you, the sight is hot and if he didn’t need to be on stage within the next three minutes he would definitely ask for another round. He shakes the thought off, panicking and reaching for the first piece of fabric on the floor, using it to wipe his liquid off of your thighs and cunt where it keeps slipping out of you.
“Ji, just give me back my panties, leave it.” You say, sitting up. He passes you the fabric, you slip it on hoping it’ll hold it enough until you’re back home. You look up, Jisung helping you put your clothes back on until you notice the fabric in his hand.
“Ji,” He hums. “That’s my sweater.” You say, staring at the now cum stained piece of clothing.
He goes red, profusely apologizing for using it and not realizing that it was your sweater. You laugh, he was always so cute. Guess that would never change.
“This isn’t how I wanted things to go.” He sighs, the two of you looking fairly more composed than you did a minute ago.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“I mean that I wanted to tell you something before all of this,” He trails off. You tilt your head, waiting for him to further explain. He takes a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “Just, watch me on stage. I can help you understand better then.”
You nod your head, ignoring the way the anxiety from before was beginning to creep up again, this time the feeling barely able to be ignored. You hope he doesn’t notice it.
There’s another strict knock at the door, calling him to hurry up. His eyes shine as they look at you, pulling everything you feared back onto the surface as if it never left in the first place.
“I’ll see you,” He says, kissing your cheek before running to go follow the guys onto stage.
You suck in a shaky breath, giving yourself a moment to breathe. It’ll be fine. It has to be, you promised it would be.
☆ 💫 ☆
You spotted Aeri early on in the performance, she was a few feet away with a candy apple in her hand dancing along to the music with a guy right next to her that you didn’t recognize at all. She called out to you in between the third and fourth song where you said hello to the new guy she introduced as Johnny.
You were lucky enough that since the music played you had something to put your entire focus on while avoiding Aeri’s gaze that later turned into a smirk once your hair shifted while dancing revealing a brand new purple bruise there. She winked at you, before turning to the guy and dancing along with him.
The performance was going well, though there was still a part of you full of anxiety you at least were able to tune it out and focus along with the loud music, more specifically the bass. It didn’t help that after every song, Jisung was looking into the crowd, eyes landing directly on you like it was muscle memory to just find you through thousands of others.
It was during the last couple of songs when they changed a few things, instead of their regular garage mixed sound they shifted for a more soft rock melody. You heard the opening keys, Jaemin having swapped from guitar to a keyboard, the first few chords producing such a sweet and melodic sound and right as Mark strummed the first few notes, Jisung began to sing.
Every lyric flowed nicely, his vocal tone had always been one that you appreciated, the deep voice of his felt so comforting, transporting you back in time to when he first started singing. You remembered those days so clearly, coming home from school and he would sing to you, or even on your sad days when you missed your mother and she would decline every one of your calls. Those times he’d make sure to sing you your favorite songs, and at some point he’d even started writing songs for you.
Most of them you weren’t allowed to listen to, he told you it was because they weren’t ready, but a part of you knew it had to be because of a different reason. There was the time on his fourteenth birthday, you’d saved up all of the allowance your parents had given you to buy him the bass he’d wanted. He looked the happiest you ever saw him, then.
As the song progressed you listened to each and every one of the lyrics directed towards you, his eyes never once shifting from where you stood.
‘I would take the chance to live the rest of my life alone just if I could see you once more.
Cause I couldn’t live a life without you, not when everything I do is for you.
Not when you’re the only one for me, so please don’t leave me lonely.’
You took in a harsh breath, feeling as if your world would collapse.
Fuck.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. Aeri wasn’t supposed to be right.
Almost as if she sensed you thinking about her she called out to you, your phone in her hand as she gave it to you. “I forgot to tell you, your phone has been ringing since earlier.” That’s right you had given her your phone earlier since she was the one with a bag.
You glanced down at the caller ID, and suddenly it felt like your entire world was falling apart. Aeri looked at you worriedly then, her eyes running over you head to toe and asking if you were okay. You could barely hear her over how hard your heart was beating.
The last thing you could remember was telling her you had to go, then running through the crowd before she could even try to reach you. You breathed out, debating answering the call at all. Away from the music there’s barely any food trucks open, about two or three people are actually in line but even then you still feel paranoid.
The phone keeps ringing, only this time you choose to answer it.
“Miss L/N?” You almost broke down hearing his familiar voice. He must’ve heard you enough that he started again, “Ah, Your mother told me I should communicate with you since you’ve been too occupied to answer her. She was wondering if we could push up our wedding date.”
Wedding Date.
Of course, because no matter how long you thought you could run from everything you still had your duties to attend to for your mothers sake, even if it was to marry a man that you didn’t even love.
☆ 🎸 ☆
When Jisung finished his song to you he noticed your absence immediately, but before he could allow himself to succumb to any anxious ideas he stopped himself, because maybe you had snuck backstage to see him after the show.
By the last song, he knew it wasn’t the truth. He could even spot Aeri from the crowd, trying to call someone through her phone. A part of him wished that this wasn’t exactly what was going on. Maybe you had stopped to go get some food? There were still a couple of trucks left behind, he forgot to mention that afterwards the guys were planning on going out for dinner. He was going to mention it after talking to you, he was hopeful that he’d get to introduce you as his girlfriend as you all were seated at the table.
The guys sensed it. He could tell by the way they quieted down as they all stepped off the stage noticing your lack of presence. Jisung should be mad at you. You left him, again, but even when he tried to be angry the first time you’d left, he couldn’t be mad at you. This time though, unlike before, he couldn’t even find a reason to be mad at himself.
He allowed himself a breath, the guys had left him to himself in their shared trailer for a moment, so now every possibility was flooding his mind. In the end it didn’t matter. There was no other way to look at this situation. He should’ve listened to Mark, or even to Donghyuck of all people. But he didn’t, and in any other timeline he was sure he wouldn’t have either.
Because everyone else were assuming that he’d fallen into a trap he’d so cautiously been trying to avoid, what they didn’t realize was that he went in fully content with the outcome.
Part Four: Late December
You
☆ 💫 ☆
It had been a week since all things went to shit. You’d hung up the second you heard the words wedding date, choosing instead to grab and pack as many clothes from Aeri’s place to run away. You were seriously going to leave again, but then you thought about Jisung. Every word he spoke through the song. You couldn’t leave him, not again.
So here you laid in complete isolation, staying in your old bedroom at your grandmother's. She stopped by to bring you food every so often, but other than that even she had a feeling that you wanted to be alone.
Your mother had called a few more times, probably expecting you to have already booked your flight back to France. But you hadn’t, and you still weren’t sure you were going to. There was too much going on in your head. How everything you didn’t want to happen happened anyway, and again, it was your fault.
It was your fault how you stupidly thought that you could come back home just to leave again like nothing ever meant anything. Because everything meant something, every place, every person, but especially him.
And now even if you were to stay what justice would that do? If you were Jisung you would never want to see you ever again. Judging by his silence, you were sure that he was on the same page. You wouldn’t even allow yourself to cry over him when you were the one who fucked up.
There was a subtle knock on the door, you wiped your eyes making sure that there wasn’t a single tear before answering with a weak, “Come in.”
Only it wasn’t your grandmother with a plate of breakfast, not unless the plate of breakfast had transformed into a pink haired woman who looked way too much like the best friend you had run away from.
You refused to look at her, not when you were already way too close to crying and seeing her look at you pitifully would just be the stick that broke the camels back.
The door shut then, leaving you and Aeri in silence. The sound of her footsteps approaching until she finally spoke, “You left me like a bad hookup.” There was humor in her voice, one that you glossed over with how sorry you felt.
“I’m sorry,” You admitted defeatedly, as if to say she was very far from being wrong, and you should’ve realized it sooner.
She sighed, “Don’t be sorry, I’m not mad I understand. Sometimes I'm too right about everything that it makes me want to leave myself behind.”
You don’t answer, nothing but your faults flooding your brain so much that you could barely register the world around you. She must’ve understood the sort of funk you were in because she moved a step closer.
“Y/N.”
Your heart squeezed at the mention of your name, which was starting to annoy you. You were acting like a kid in trouble for the first time. The idea of how aggravating you must be to everyone right now made it so that you actually made eye contact with the woman, her face full of concern.
“You always were your own worst enemy,” she sighed, before clapping her hands together loud enough to make you flinch. “Okay no more sulking. I, as your friend, am required to be here for you whenever you are sad and I've been a pretty shitty friend that I left you alone in your own thoughts for a week too long.”
You frowned, “No that’s not true all you’ve done is be a good friend. You let me stay with you and I just left without even giving a thank you.”
She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, do you think i’m here for a thank you?”
You pause for a moment, the obvious answer being no, of course not, but one part of you is still faulting yourself for not having given one anyway.
“God, I love you y/n I really do but seriously?” She scowls fully offended, “I’m not here for a little sorry, or for a thank you, I’m here because my best friend needs me and even if she thinks that she doesn’t deserve to be around anyone I know otherwise.”
Your brows are furrowed, her finger shushing you before you could reply, “Shh no no no, you’re just going to guilt yourself more and then want to push away everyone because you think you’re the problem.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Y/N, things happen. Feelings happen. The unexpected happens and you can’t just put the blame on yourself.”
“You don’t understand,” You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, using all the last of your strength to fight them from falling.
“Then help me understand! Help me see it from your point of view because all i’m getting is that you’re sitting here soaking in self hatred when I know you as one of the most selfless people in the world.”
You shake your head, the tears flooding out. “I’m not, i’m far from that. I got involved with Jisung again even when I knew this couldn’t last forever.”
“Why can’t it?”
“Because Aeri,” Your voice cracks, “I have to go. My mother is content with setting me up with some man I barely even know because it’s my duty to her as her daughter. To marry into a wealthy family and play as a puppet for the rest of my life.”
She’s silent, listening to you as you rant on about everything, finally breaking from the amount you’ve held back from telling. “I don’t even get a choice. Not if I want to be heir to everything they built. I never even wanted to leave you all behind the first time but I had to.”
“Why?” Aeri asks, and the question itself is harmless but you shake your head because how could you explain. As far as you knew, your mother wanted nothing to do with your upbringing. Yet she showed up anyway one day. Telling you that there was no other option, if you were to stay behind then she would cut you off.
“She promised to fund my education if I left with her.” You were fully sobbing now, “and grandma was only getting older so I thought it would be for the best if I left with my mother. To come back with a degree and be able to support the two of us.”
Aeri sighs, pulling you into a comforting hug. Those first few months in France had been nothing but stress and pain. Taking on an education in a foreign country where you hardly understood any of what they were talking about. Even as a graphic design major it proved to be more challenging than ever.
You thought after the last years of school you would be able to come back home. To start up a small business and pursue and build your own career, maybe then when you proved to be successful enough you would talk to Jisung and admit just how much you missed him.
Everytime anyone had left you a message you felt a huge lump in your heart. So you began to ignore each and every message, and as the years went on you grew more and more stuck. Your mother had come to you on a random day, inviting you to some dinner with another family, the Lee’s.
Hyunjae Lee was the man you were set to marry as long as both of your families had kept their promises. You’d realized it then. The reason your mother had come back for you was to secure a business deal with this family, and what better option than to a contractual marriage.
She expected it from you, she’d told you repeatedly how you owed her this. She’d given you freedom for more than half of your life that not many other kids get to entertain, so now you must pay it back.
You couldn’t do this, not after you made a promise that you would return home. If you were to marry into the family of a man that you had just met then you were to be tied down for the rest of your life, but if you were to leave now then you were to walk away from the future you had promised to have. To repay your grandmother for all of her struggles, so you had made your choice, though it didn’t last long at all.
A day after brunch with your new fiancé you had panicked. He was a decent guy, actually pretty kind for someone who came from such a high class. You exchanged numbers with the man, hoping he couldn’t read your solemn expression. And the next day when he texted and it wasn’t the man you had really wanted, you couldn’t take it anymore.
You needed time away before you locked yourself in a cage, choosing to book the first ticket you could back home. It’s how you ended up here. A trip that you thought would give you the strength to move on, only leaving you facing everything you thought was over head on.
Aeri held you tightly as you recalled to her every single event, the calls the texts you’d ignored just because if you answered you knew you’d come crawling back home fighting for Jisung to forgive you. You weren’t supposed to see him ever again, it was the best that way, at least that’s what you thought. Now you weren’t so sure.
“Look,” Aeri starts after your sobs from earlier come to a few sniffles, “I appreciate you finally letting everything off your chest, but I think you know that i’m not the one who should be hearing all of this.”
She was referring to Jisung. Of course she was. And you knew you should talk to him but how could you explain everything and expect him to just forgive you? You had played with his emotions, whether you meant to or not. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you again and remind himself of all of the pain you caused him.
“I can’t Aeri not when he's so much better off without me.”
“You can’t say that, it’s unfair. He decided to keep seeing you even when he could’ve avoided you like the plague this entire time, and honestly everytime i’ve so much as spared him a glance this past week I've realized that he never once has appeared that way.”
You hadn’t really seen anyone this past week, but that didn’t stop you from knowing how he was doing these past weeks. Your grandma had mentioned something about seeing him in passing when she was coming home from groceries and he apologized for not making time to visit her. He hadn’t looked too good, maybe a bit like he needed a friend, your grandma had said.
She’s frowning at you now, no longer holding back as she speaks with zero remorse, “The least you can do is try to talk to him, he deserves to make that choice for himself so who are you to decide for him, because it’s clear to everyone else that he had already decided to forgive you. You just took that chance away from him.”
Her words clicked then. Could it have been so obvious? Everytime you distanced yourself from the people around you only because you thought it was for their best interest, in your mothers eyes that was the same way she thought of you. It was in your best interest that you follow every rule she had set out for her.
In a lot of ways, Aeri was right, because if you really loved the boy you grew up with the way you claimed to, then you would’ve allowed him the opportunity to admit that he had forgiven you. The only person left was you who hadn’t forgiven yourself.
What did that mean now? It was simple enough for you to understand. You had to find a way to talk to him, at least after you made a quick pit stop.
☆ 🎸 ☆
Jisung hadn’t spent a lot of time doing anything except for spending all of his time in the practice room. Even with no performances coming up because of the holiday season, he needed a release. The guys had forced him to go out with them at least once, for a quick stop at a convenience store because really he had no desire to talk to anyone let alone deal with any kind of crowd at a club right now. They at least understood that part, though he had a creeping suspicion that there was something else.
He spent Christmas with Mark’s family, they were pretty welcoming and didn’t make him feel like an outsider even though he very much was, with his very solemn stray kitten look that made Mark’s mom slide over an extra slice of homemade lemon cake that her friend back in Canada had given her the recipe to.
Jisung had decided maybe it was best to spend the rest of his time in solitude, mainly because he hated being the vibe killer to everyone around him. It’s why he had declined joining any part of Donghyuck’s New Year celebration, and also because the last thing he wanted was to get drunk and wake up with a hangover on January first.
That’s how he had ended up roaming around the area, bungeoppang in hand as he sat with the thickest sweater he owned at the local park. Don’t get him wrong, he was semi aware that he looked like a weirdo, like what kind of grown man sits on a random park swing in the middle of the night on new year’s eve. This wasn’t just some park though it did mean a lot. It was where he’d first met you.
You, with a pretty bad haircut and a little bit of a thick accent when you spoke Korean that he couldn’t exactly put a name to because as a seven year old the only places he knew were school, home, and space. You must’ve been from the moon, it would explain why you spoke a bit weird and why you’d never tried bungeoppang before.
Jisung smiled at the memory, he ended up being wrong about a lot of things, but one thing stayed true. You must’ve been from the moon at least in another life because for some reason even when he couldn’t see you he felt your presence.
The air was honestly freezing, yet he felt all the more warm with the precious memory. He promised the guys that he wouldn’t allow any of his own problems to affect the band, and with their schedules becoming more and more busy since the festival he knew he had to set his mind straight. So now, he sat with the idea that once the clock struck twelve he would wash every piece of baggage from the past five years, and start a fresh and clean beginning.
“Jisung!” He heard your voice then, his body scrunching up in response because seriously he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol so was he losing his mind. A psyche evaluation was not what he was expecting to take into the new year. But then he heard you again, this time closer than before. Standing up off of the swing and turning around to see you, who seriously looked like you ran a mile to get here, a bag in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other that only made him realize you had been running barefoot.
“Wait give me a minute,” You spoke, clearly fighting for an ounce of air to fill your lungs because you had spent the last of your breath screaming out his name. “Fuck I really underestimated how long it would take me to get here.”
“What are you doing here?” He asked, not in a rude way but because seriously the last thing he expected was to see you.
You had finally caught your breath, gulping down the last of your fears before you came clean. “I had to see you.”
When he didn’t reply you stepped closer, “I haven’t been honest, and for the longest time I told myself it was in everyone’s best interest that I kept it that way because I didn’t deserve any of you in my life. But after a long enough time and really some slaps of courage from Aeri I realized that I never once considered how you felt. So i’m here to tell you everything but mostly to allow you the choice to choose how you still feel about me afterwards.”
Jisung wasn’t really sure how to reply but he did know that you had always been the type to put yourself down, it was always something he wished he could help you see differently.
He nodded, encouraging you to continue. “I love you, I think I always have but for some reason I just was so scared that I would only bring out the worst from you. When I left back to France with my mom I thought space away from you was the best for you.” You sniffled and even with how rough things were Jisung still wished he could hold you close to comfort you.
“That’s not the only thing though, I also needed a good education so I could come back and finally be enough for everyone here, and my mother was going to fund it all as long as I did everything she wanted. So I sat through years of huge galas where I had to learn the names of people who looked at me like I was never going to measure up to my family’s legacy, until eventually my mother had the brilliant idea that the only way i’d ever make it was by attaching a new last name to my own.”
Jisung felt his heart twist, had you really suffered so much being alone? He remembered Ningning mentioning having visited you once on a business trip within the last year. How you had said you were relieved to see a familiar face, especially with how lonely the atmosphere was. She said one of the main things that stood out though was that even as much as you smiled and said things were going well, it never met your eyes.
“I came back here spontaneously but it was because I needed time. I needed to feel like my life was in my control even though it hadn’t been for a long time and wouldn’t ever be if I went through with the arranged marriage.” Your voice kept its composure despite the way your hands shook. “I was never supposed to stay here, but then when I saw you again it’s like I couldn’t leave. I wanted to be around you, in any way shape or form even if you didn’t see me as anything other than a warm body.”
He couldn’t believe it, because never once had he seen you as such. You have always and would forever be the woman who taught him what love was.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to see you sooner and tell you all of this,” You added, “I had to see my mother and let her know that the wedding wasn’t going to happen. I talked to her a bit, she wasn’t too pleased but as long as i’m out of her hair she doesn’t really care. I’m free now so I took the first flight back and got your address through Aeri–“
“Aeri has never once come over to my place?”
“Yeah she said not to mention that because it was a secret, anyway I thought you’d probably be home but clearly I was wrong and it took me even longer to convince the guys to tell me where you went.”
“I didn’t let the guys know though? I shut my phone off just so they wouldn’t follow me.”
“Yeah well Jaemin said he had his ways.”
Jisung groaned, already knowing what exactly that meant in Jaemin’s language. He definitely had an airtag on him.
“I also passed by a small vendor and,” you opened the bag in your hand, revealing a few of the fish shaped bread hidden inside. Jisung couldn’t help but smile, you had remembered just as he did. “I packed one of each, just in case you wanted to try them all and argue about which was the best filling.” Your voice grew quiet then, “That’s only if you want to.”
The answer was obvious to him the second you had appeared in front of him explaining yourself. He was never going to forget you, it’s not what he was planning on doing in the first place. He just wanted for things to be honest, none of the confusion on where the two of you stood, just true and open love. All he ever wanted was you.
He took a few steps closer, his arms coming up around you in a tight hug, “There’s never been anything else i’ve ever wanted more than you.”
You let out a breath of relief, a few tears streaming down your face with how much pressure was lifted from off of your shoulders. Like there was a magnetic field between the two of you that you had no interest in fighting against, your lips met one another’s. The kiss was sweet and soft with all of the emotions you both felt over the years combined into one moment. Both of you accepting this change with each other because that’s what love was.
It was feeling everything all at once but willing for it to consume you. An unstoppable force that left you vulnerable and sometimes wondering if you were deserving, but also proved that you were ready for wherever it took you even if it was unexpected.
And like the sky was a paid actor, it was met with blasts of colors as fireworks went off celebrating the start of what’s to come.
Jisung of course flinched, pulling away from the kiss with an apologetic sorry for ruining what was a perfect scene out of a movie. You laughed, locking your fingers through his hand to stare up into the sky with him. His gaze occasionally falling to you, in pure joy with rose colored cheeks from the cold, something he’d never let go of.
Epilogue:
Francis Forever
Who ever thought that booking a show last minute as a filler band for a canceled performance by some popular band that fans had already bought tickets for would have the domino effect of Oblivion reaching new heights of success.
Not Jisung, but you had always known it was only a matter of time.
Since that show in February, March had become chaotic. Oblivion had regular shows booked back to back, and had even recently just been referred to some guy under Zhong Management, for help to sort out how the rest of Oblivion’s year would go.
There were also an influx of fans, fanpages, fan accounts, fanfics that Jisung definitely made sure to steer clear of considering the fact that he was in a very public relationship that was not hidden from fans in the slightest.
The fans loved you, which Jisung knew they would because who didn’t. They loved the dynamic between the two of you, researching and finding out that you had known each other since childhood which only fueled them to ask more questions about the two of you which Jisung had no problem doing during the last Fans Ask and Answer that you scheduled for each of them.
You took the job as their social media fan club manager very seriously by the way. So when Donghyuck had answered a question asking ‘What are some preshow superstitions you have?’ with ‘I’m not sure about that but we have special rules in place about no funny business before a performance.’ You had quickly ended the online questionnaire, right before running towards Donghyuck at full speed with the first thing you could find on the desk in front of you, a pencil, as your weapon of choice.
Jeno had held you back, because Jisung refused when he had already warned Donghyuck before he clicked post.
Things were going better than ever, even for you who decided to take a break from school after already having completed a two year program.
The only thing left for today was the movie marathon date you and Jisung had planned for tonight, which wasn’t the first you both had since dating, but felt brand new since every other roommate had made plans that left the house empty except for the two of you.
“I don’t understand why people like Jake Sully, he seems a bit conceited.” Jisung muttered from where he sat on the couch, your body resting against his chest as you munched on popcorn, focused on the movie.
“Cause he’s hot.”
He scrunched his nose, “He’s blue.”
You shrug, “It’s an alien thing probably, I always thought Neytiri looked better.”
He frowned at you, pulling a laugh from your lips with how cute he was when he was jealous. “I’m just kidding! Those things are way too tall anyway.”
He sighed, “I don’t wanna watch this anymore.”
You laughed again, setting down the bowl of popcorn and sliding around to wrap your legs around him. He refused to look at you, but you knew he wasn’t really upset with the way his hands found their way around your waist, soothing over your skin. “I’m kidding, no blue alien could compare to the alien right in front of me.”
He let out a snort, finally turning to face you. “As if I was jealous of that guy.”
“Oh yeah i’m sure you weren’t,” you smile, leaning in close to him. His gaze fell to your lips, silently hoping you would lean in closer so he could kiss you. You thought it would be fun to tease him for a little so you stayed there, barely a centimeter apart.
He sighed again knowing exactly what you were doing, choosing to close the distance himself. You never really got used to his kisses, your stomach fluttering anytime the two of your lips connected. You couldn’t help but want more, sliding your tongue through his lips to deepen the kiss. He tasted sweet, more than likely from the candy he’d been eating since the start of the movie.
It wasn’t until you could feel his slight bulge against you that you pulled away, smirking up at him in satisfaction over his disarray, his lips swollen and hair tussled from the quick makeout session.
“We have the house to ourselves,” He broke the silence with a whisper, leaning in close to lessen the gap between you
.“Hmm,” You answered, not even daring to hide your smile when you’ve never felt happier than this moment. “Then let’s make use of that while we can.”
࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟
FINAL NOTES: if you made it until the end I’m hoping you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing! Next up is Jeno’s story so stay tuned for that! also, im wondering just how many of the songs used for every section did you guys know…
synopsis. she swears he's the most infuriatingly, sparkly person around — too bright and positively suffocating. But for Jaemin? He's intrigued by her; the gloomy princess frog who he wishes to befriend.
warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby, cutie, etc.), unprotected sex, almost getting caught, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, really fluffy.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N: the speed in which I got this out was crazy. I also wanted to thank all of you guys for the love, I'm quite the perfectionist when it comes to my writing, but seeing how well they've been received so far makes me incredibly happy. ily all 💞
Na Jaemin was the heartthrob. If someone plucked him out of a drama, it would be Boys Over Flowers — except he was the flower. Everything about him was charming, endearing, and effervescent. It was almost blinding. Sickening. She'd place bets he threw up rainbows and unicorns, no doubt consuming Lucky Charms sprinkled with stardust for breakfast.
Which is exactly why she avoided him like the plague.
She was an irritable shadow, afraid of being incinerated and consumed by the ebullient sun. Always grumbling and scowling whenever she came into the vicinity of his stupidly wide, toothy grin, paired with that obnoxiously loud laugh.
"You're stabbing at your food," a soft, amused voice cut through the loud chatter of the cafeteria, "Should I be worried that you're also giving me the death glare?"
Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him. She hated how well he held eye-contact, and she wasn't going to lose the little battles before the war. So, she sends him a scowl as a response, her dark, frizzy hair puffing up like a lion's mane.
Jaemin was intrigued by her. She was the only person who would never smile back, never say anything more than a few words to him. As if dealing with him, or people in general, sucked out her limited supply of energy.
Jaemin sits down next to her, his arm brushing against hers with the protection of her thick, knit sweater, "We're supposed to choose our pairs for the science project, wanna work together?"
She let out a scoff, side-eyeing him for the sheer audacity of asking something so absurd, "No," She replies flatly, munching on her cafeteria food that suddenly tasted like slop in his presence.
He raised an amused brow, smile never faltering. Honestly, she would pay good money to see him not smiling for once, "Come on, why not? You're smart and I'm... kinda smart. We'd make a good team! I've even come up with possible names for our duo," he clears his throat as if preparing a proposal for Shark Tank, "sun and moon, yin and yang, Princess and The Frog..."
"Princess?" She scoffs.
"Yeah, I'll be the princess and you can be the fro-," she grumbles under her breath, standing up with her tray and moving to another empty table. Jaemin was unfazed, unfortunately, and followed her casually as if she'd asked to move together.
"Stop following me," Y/N huffed, nestling into her purple sweater as she continued to stab at her food. She could see Jaemin's group of friends watching like vigilant vultures from the corner of her eye.
Haechan, the cocky, intimidating star student — or would be star student if he weren't so lazy. Chenle, the real crazy rich Asian, often coming to school with something designer. And Renjun, the angry artist who she often wondered how he fit in such a group, being as he seemed like the only normal person there.
She could almost hear their judgment, confused on why Jaemin spent almost every lunchtime circling around the grouchy loner.
Jaemin chuckled, slotting into the chair next to her, to which she nudged her chair to the side, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible, even down to the atoms, "it's either I work with you or Jisung... and I don't want to work with him."
Her eyes met his, glaring in a way Jaemin would call cute, strangely, "Not my problem."
Jaemin pokes at her arm, giggling when she jumps, startled, "But whyyy. That guy would be scared at the sight of a bunsen burner, that's not even on, mind you."
"Again, not my problem."
Jaemin pouted, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he let his soft gaze flick over her features. He had a horrible habit of keeping his eyes locked on people's lips, even more so when they spoke. But, from up close, his appearance matched the mix of a doe and a rabbit with his long, fluttering lashes and big, round eyes.
She hated deers and rabbits.
"Would it be your problem if we were friends?" Jaemin asked suddenly. Everything about his voice to his gaze were genuine. He meant every word, and that scared her.
She froze, grip tightening on her cutlery as she slowly met his watching eyes, "Friends?"
"Friends," Jaemin added, "I want us to be friends. You're nice."
She snorted. For the first time, she actually made a sound close enough to be a laugh and Jaemin, startled, looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. As if a UFO had landed right in front of him and aliens stepped out wearing chicken suits, "You're delusional."
"Delusional or not, I made you laugh. Even more of a reason for us to be friends, I'm a good influence on you," Jaemin teased. Immediately, her expression faltered.
The sun was obnoxiously loud, and infuriatingly cocky.
The sun was, indeed, loud.
When she woke up this morning, she never would have guessed how horrible today would be. Not until Jaemin raised his hand incredibly high and chirped to the science teacher, "Y/N and I would like to be partners!"
If looks could kill, Jaemin would be shot dead on Earth, stopped before he got to the pearly white gates; his soul extracted into a minuscule bottle, crushed and thrown into the deepest, tenebrous voids before he even had a chance at getting reincarnated.
She sighed, loudly. She could hear people whispering, their watchful gaze flicking between the pair. Jaemin was as smiley as ever, his eyes little crescents as he skipped over to her, flower petals trailing behind him like some spring-happy leprechaun.
Y/N placed her bag on the one free seat next to her, and Jaemin pouted just as he got to her table, "Hey, is that how you treat your partner?"
She couldn't even spare him a glance, not with her seething, "I told you, I didn't want to be your partner."
Jaemin shrugs, placing his books on the table and pulls out a separate chair to sit in front of her — all without complaint or a twitching smile. He could tell she was mad at him, he wasn't a fool. Usually, she'd be boring burning hot holes into his skin with her piercing glare, though now, she kept her eyes on her science book, not sparing him a glance.
He was cautious with his movements, watching her as he sat right in front, just close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender from her jumper. He didn't want to scare her off or build the tension further so, he did the next best thing he could think of.
Digging into his bag, he pulls out his phone and wired earphones, ones he carried with him for years. It was to anyone's amazement how they lasted so long. He scrolls through his playlist, trying to find anything that was calming enough and, when he does, he grins to himself, leaning over to place one bud into her ear.
Her eyes snapped to his, his finger still pressed to the earbud to stop her from snatching it out so quickly, but that meant he was closer than he had ever been. She couldn't help but to notice those dark eyes that reflected the glittering ceiling lights as his warm, gentle and hesitant breath brushed her dewy skin, "What are you-"
"Just... I know you don't want to talk to me right now so, let's listen to some music together. Just this once," his smile was softer now, eyes trained on her with a hint of nervousness.
When Jaemin realised she wasn't making a move to yank the earphones out, he slowly retracted his hand, letting the music play. Surprisingly, the song was calming and sweet — a stark contrast to the energiser bunny who sat in front of her, grinning like a madman just at her tolerating his presence.
Jaemin confused her. She couldn't understand how someone could be so... sunshine and rainbows. Just looking at him was exhausting, feeling the corners of her lips burn at the simple thought of grinning twenty four hours of every day. He may as well have had more muscles on his lips than she had in her arms.
"You're always smiling," she mutters, scribbling random doodles into her science book, not caring if it affects the presentation. She felt herself calming a little from the music alone.
Jaemin nods slowly, looking through their worksheet for the experiment they had to do over the course of the week, "Is that a bad thing?"
It felt like that question alone stumped her. It wasn't that smiling was a bad thing, but with Jaemin, it always felt forced — maintaining the good boy image. She scoffs lightly, "It's annoying."
He only laughs at that, leaning in closer as his voice turns to a whisper, "So, if I smiled less, you'd tolerate me more?"
Her confused look had Jaemin smiling at her like a fool, trying to see how far he could push as he pulled away, "Tolerate me enough to become friends, I mean. You didn't give me an answer yesterday either."
"Thought it was an obvious no," she takes the spare worksheet and starts filling in the equipment they'd need and the correct order of steps.
Jaemin lets out a sudden, obnoxiously loud "wow" at the sight of the work she had done in a mere five minutes. He snatches it from the desk, his thumbs digging into the edges of the paper as he held it up in amazement, lips puckered in an exaggerated 'O', before his gaze flicked to her, always searching for a hint of a reaction, "I don't think we will need a whole week to get this experiment done. At least, not with you as my partner."
"Don't get used to it. You're pulling your own weight for this project," Y/N mumbles, snatching the worksheet out of his hands, her fingers brushing his in the process. She flinches slightly at the contact, and Jaemin doesn't let it slide, his smile sneakily widening.
"Well too late. I'm already naming my future children after you."
She stares at him with a deadpanned expression, "You're so weird."
"Thank you," he beams.
There's a long silence after that. She quietly observes Jaemin, whose lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, smile softening as he chooses another song on his playlist, humming along to it. Then, her gaze drops to the paper again.
"Are you serious about being friends?" she asks softly, not looking up, voice so low he almost doesn't hear it.
He stops humming, "Yeah, I am."
Y/N finally looks up, and Jaemin's not smiling this time, clearly serious.
She considers it. Actually weighs the pros and cons of being friends with the sun which, if she hadn't known any better, would only repeat Icarus' story, where her wax wings would melt if she got too close, "Don't expect me to tell you my favourite colour or make friendship bracelets out of loom bands with you."
Jaemin's smile slowly returns, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind, "That's okay, you can start by telling me what you hate most about me."
She snorts, "As if there's enough time for that in a day."
"Perfect," he sends her his classic toothy grin, "Guess I have more of an excuse to hang around you for longer, then."
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, illuminating the multi-coloured shelves filled with snacks and bold coloured stickers with deals peppered along the products. It had smelled faintly of overripe bananas, cheap detergent, and air freshener — the familiar scent of your standard convenience stores. Jaemin had wandered the snack aisle on a lazy evening, indecisively scouring the 2-for-1 promotions. He was low on energy after spending the whole afternoon playing football against his will. Though, he was somewhat grateful it wasn't basketball this time, thanks to Chenle going on some last minute holiday.
All thoughts screeched to a halt while he was scanning for some snacks, seeing her behind the till. She wore the stores' basic, bright blue apron, the collar of the white undershirt slightly crooked, and an upside-down name tag pinned to her chest which gave more than enough away that she was in a rush to get to her shift. But most of all, she was smiling at the elderly woman in front of her, offering a genuine laugh when the lady made a joke he could barely make out.
Her laugh was so pretty to him. Despite it being awkward, tethering on deep yet with a sweet lilt... It was so unique, so adorable and something he wished he could hear over and over again, like a broken record.
He couldn't get over that smile, either. It brightened up her face and made her even more gorgeous than she already was. His eyes were locked on the soft and slightly shy grin, tugging up on one side. He had never seen her like that before, but he was already obsessed, his heart clenching as a sudden cuteness aggression overcame him.
The moment she noticed him walking towards the register with a basket of snacks, however, her expression had snapped back into its usual stormy cloud, the corners of her lips sinking into a scowl. Jaemin stifled a laugh as he set his snacks down on the counter.
"Hey," he whined, yet his voice was as bright and sunny as always, "I'm a customer too, where's my smile?"
"What are you doing here, Jaemin?" she grumbled, already scanning the items with speedy efficiency, clearly wanting to get rid of him.
"I came to see you," He let the sentence hang just long enough between them before correcting himself, "Actually... I just wanted some snacks."
She glanced at the box of Lucky Charms he placed on the counter —bright and completely childlike, just like him. She blinked before letting out a soft giggle, the sound barely audible, but loud enough for Jaemin to catch it. He felt butterflies going haywire in the pits of his stomach.
"You seriously eat this shi- stuff?"
"Religiously," he replied, smirking, "I'm convinced it really is sprinkled with some magical form of luck."
"Oh yeah, and what have you been lucky with?" she muttered, slipping the items into a plastic bag.
"You," he added with a grin. There was no hesitation in the way he had said it, especially with that stupid, shit-eating grin and the mischievous light in his eyes. But she forced her expression to remain neutral, even when a string of curses sat on the tip of her tongue.
The occasional beep of items being scanned and the quiet chatter of the other customers in the back had filled the silence between them. Jaemin leaned back and forth, raising an amused brow at her, cocky from having gotten to her in some way.
"I didn't know you worked here," he said finally, trying to fill in the silence and not wanting this moment with her to end so soon.
Y/N shrugged, adjusting the strap of her apron as she suddenly started to feel awkward, "It's... just part-time. Pays for things like snacks. But I never get to eat them because I have to smile at people like you all day."
He grinned wider, ignoring her slight jab, "So you do smile."
"God, you're annoying," she groans, packing the last of the items and gesturing to the till for him to pay.
Jaemin only smirks wider, tapping his card until a beep resounded in the shop, "And you're blushing."
"I am not-"
"Oh, you definitely are, but this would surely make you blush more...," He leans in, grabbing the plastic bag out of her hands, fingers barely brushing, as he whispered against the shell of her ear, "you're cuter when you smile."
Her hands stilled slightly as she let go of the bag as if they were opposites on either side of a magnet.
He held her gaze for a moment, before pulling away, "Thanks for the snacks."
"Don't come here again," Y/N grumbled.
Jaemin stepped back towards the automatic doors which kept trying to close, blocking the path of some customers as he smiled like a fool at her, as usual. She hated how he made her feel in this moment, and she could swear her heart had beat louder than the generic pop music which played in the shop. Maybe she would blame the fact that he was someone who does eat lucky charms. But his next words cut through her thoughts as he stifled a laugh before leaving, "No promises, cutie."
And, for some strange reason, that word didn't make her internally gag.
The cafeteria was in a state of a mess; chaotic noise and clattering trays, loud, overlapping conversations, and the sharp screeching of metal chairs. The air had smelt faintly of overcooked pasta and whatever they had tried to pass off as food today — what students would call radioactive slop. But not one table was as loud as the one Jaemin was sat on with his friends.
"I'm telling you, she's the cutest girl around. Like- Haechan, stop laughing, I'm being serious!" Jaemin glares daggers at the male who was barely keeping still on his chair.
"Yeah, I bet. I'd also bet she hexed you," Haechan, who sat across from Jaemin, wipes away a stray tear, followed by a sigh as he calmed down from his burst of laughter.
Renjun sat next to Haechan, nudging him with the pristine sleeve of his blazer. He had always kept a clean-cut appearance where not even a tiny drop of paint ever landed on his attire, "If Jaemin likes her, who cares? I will be judging though, but from the sidelines."
Jaemin grumbles, pushing his half-eaten tray away from him as he crossed his arms, "You guys are assholes. What happened to being happy for me?"
Chenle chirps in, glancing at the woman who was the focus of their conversation sat a few tables down on her own. He jabs a finger into the table, a classic Chenle move whenever he had a 'valid' point to make, eyebrows raised with passion, "You guys are like... the complete opposites of each other. She would definitely steal all your light. Well- on second thought, that's probably a good thing, maybe you'd finally be somewhat bearable to be around."
Jaemin rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice and munching it in irritation, "Look, if you actually spoke to her, you'd see that there is more to her. She actually smiles too, and it's so adorable, plus-"
Haechan side-eyes Jaemin; partly for speaking with a mouthful of food, and the other for simping over her of all people, "Don't tell me you're already pussy-whipped when you've only spoken to her once."
Jaemin's mouth drops in shock, "Once?! I've spoken to her like... three, four times?"
Haechan snorts, resting his hands behind his head, sprawling lazily out on the chair, "Might as well have been once. You can count it on one hand. You barely know her."
"Well, I know her better than you guys do, so why are we judging so hard?" Jaemin snaps, and his friends suddenly grow silent and tense. It was unlike the usually sunny male to get angry or irritated. His jaw was clenched as he dropped his metal chopsticks on the tray, the clatter loud.
Renjun clears his throat awkwardly, looking around the table, his brows furrowed softly as he met Jaemin's gaze, "You... do know why everyone avoids her though, don't you?"
Jaemin pauses, eyes flicking to his friend. Something in Renjun's tone makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the tension, paired with worry, simmering.
"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously, his voice quiet and brows furrowing.
Renjun shifts in his seat, shrugging, "Just… she's not exactly friendly. People say she snapped at teachers, ditched group projects, cursed out that senior last year-"
"She cursed at him because he was mocking her in front of everyone," Jaemin cuts in sharply, his leg bouncing under the table in frustration, "And the group projects... Maybe no one ever wanted to work with her. She had always been a target of stupid jokes. Besides, how is any of that a big deal?"
The table falls quiet again and Chenle raises a brow and puts his hands up in surrender, trying to lighten the mood, "Okay, damn. Someone is ready to fight for her honour."
Jaemin huffs, "No- Look I'm just saying... people love to talk. Don't you think she's just tired of all these assholes?"
Haechan whistles lowly, "Okay, our knight in shining armour, should we start planning the wedding?"
"Shut up," Jaemin mutters, his cheeks flushed pink, "I already did."
The lab was meant to be quiet except, Jaemin was being clumsy with the equipment. The glass beakers kept clinking against each other, and it was surprising how they hadn't smashed into pieces with his large hands. It was only them in the lab, away from the bustling lunch hall, and it was supposed to be them finishing off the experiment before they had to type up their conclusions. However, working with Jaemin was proving to be a separate challenge.
Y/N tugged her sleeves up her arms in frustration as she kept glaring at him and giving him orders. But Jaemin found her to appear less reserved when she wasn't surrounded by others — still sharp around the cute edges, but not enough to make a man cower.
"Put the beaker down slowly," she said, eyeing the glass nervously as Jaemin finished pouring the solution into a separate beaker, "I swear to God if you shatter another one-"
"Relax," Jaemin chuckled, mocking offence as he set it down with exaggerated grace, gesturing to it in celebration. She forgot he had arms that could squash a coconut in one go, panicking at the sight of him handling fragile equipment. But his cockiness worried her even further, "I have the hands of a pianist."
She side-eyed him with a slight look of surprise, "You play the piano?"
"No, but I could," he wiggles his fingers, "with these sexy hands."
She rolled her eyes, but he caught the subtle twitch of her lips before she turned away to fetch the other materials.
They had been measuring and watching the colours blend in the beaker, creating an... interesting solution. He watched her scribble something in the worksheet, noticing her handwriting was messier than he'd expected. It had kept changing its font, far from the consistent and neat image she had presented as, at least, with her personality. His eyes trailed to her frizzy hair that added an adorable, messy look to her, like his favourite character from UP, Ellie.
"You're staring," she mumbled, her pen tapping the edge of the paper in annoyance.
"Just admiring your handwriting," Jaemin teased, leaning slightly closer, glancing to her writing again, "It looks like five different people wrote that."
"Want to lose the ability to smile?"
He chuckled, watching as she moved to hold a pipette above one of the mixtures, "Are you going to start writing the conclusion, or should I do everything?"
Jaemin snapped back to reality, side stepping to grab the worksheet and immediately tapping the pencil to his cheek in thought, "Right, conclusion," he frowned when nothing came to mind, "Something something… mixture."
Y/N slowly turned to face him, "Very insightful," she deadpanned.
He didn't miss the tiniest curve of her mouth again and, God, even when she stifled a smile, it would still hit like a punch to the gut. He was starting to think maybe she was right to hide it as people would be drawn to her like the North Star. And now, it was starting to feel like it was a sight only he was allowed to see.
"You say that like it's not the best conclusion you have ever heard," Jaemin added, pressing the pencil to his lip smugly.
She sighed, snatching the worksheet from him without a word and scribbling a few lines with a quiet confidence that made him raise a brow. Her writing was still chaotic, unlike her thoughts.
He leaned in slightly to peek over at what she wrote, but she folded the paper away from his view like it was a personal diary.
"Do you mind?" she muttered in exasperation.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, resting his chin on her shoulder to take a better look at the mysterious writing.
Y/N stiffened, her breath hitched as she stayed frozen. It was insane to her how good he smelt, the way her heart stuttered, and the soft weight of him on her shoulder felt... right. She almost let out a loud scoff at her own thoughts before elbowing him sharply in the ribs.
Jaemin let out a dramatic gasp, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout, "Excuse me, assault in a science lab full of lethal equipment is a criminal offence!"
"You were in my space."
"It was our space," he mumbled, still rubbing his side, "I would argue we have dual ownership over this lab."
She tongued the inside of her cheek and shoved the worksheet in his direction, "I don't see your name on this paper, Jaemin."
He smirked, feeling his own heart blush at the way his name sounded on her lips, and grabbed the paper, scribbling Na Jaemin (Princess) in the top corner, and (cute frog) next to her name. When he handed it back to her, she glanced at the names, then at him, and rolled her eyes at his silliness.
"Anyway," his voice filled the quiet room, eyes glancing away to look at the clock, seeing they only had a few minutes till the end of lunch, "I think we did a pretty decent job, we should celebrate getting this project done."
She looked up his taller form in confusion, "Celebrate?"
Jaemin nodded, "Yeah, I'll bring you a snack tomorrow, something sweet, so that you forget about annihilating me for barely carrying this project."
She sent him a scowl in response, "And what makes you think I like sweet things?"
He grinned cheekily, packing away the equipment, "You like me, don't you?"
Y/N was convinced Jaemin had hit his head in the past month, especially with all the shit he was spewing. But she couldn't stop the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips, immediately dropping the second she had realised, and Jaemin's eyes widened at the sight. His heart was going haywire. She had finally smiled in his presence, because of him.
"You really do look cute when you smile," he grinned at her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking almost entranced by her, "I'm glad I'm the only one who gets to see it."
She snorts, packing her things away as well, "Well, I'd rather you not smile. It's exhausting."
Jaemin smirks, nodding his head, "Okay, I won't!"
He exaggerates a silly-looking scowl, humming at the same time, "Is that better?"
Y/N lets out a disbelieving scoff, eyeing him in what seemed like amusement, "Somehow... that's much worse."
It had been three days. Three days of Jaemin leaving snacks on her desk like some overly enthusiastic snack fairy with too much free time in the crackhead hours of the morning — throwing coins on snacks she hadn't asked for.
He had brought strawberry pocky the first day (what he would call an abomination in a box), Hello Panda's the next, and today? Banana milk — in this obnoxiously bright yellow carton, with the straw poked in. He called it a "romantic gesture".
Y/N stared at the carton on her desk, the happy face of the banana staring right back into her soul. Her brows had furrowed as Jaemin plopped himself into the seat beside her with his usual beaming aura.
"You're welcome," he said with a grin, chin propped up on his hand as he watched her with hearts in his eyes.
"I don't remember saying thank you," she replied blandly, but her fingers still curled around the carton like a stress ball.
Jaemin tilted his head, nodding in agreement, "I know, but you did drink the last two, so... it seems like you do appreciate the gifts, or me. Or both."
"And it seems like," she echoed with a deadpanned expression, "you're annoying. Unsurprisingly."
"Are you waiting for some kind of an applause?" she continued when he didn't make a move to leave, taking another sip of the banana milk.
Jaemin shrugged, never taking his eyes off of her, even as other students around looked on in confusion, "Yes, actually. I deserve a standing ovation. I had brought you peace offerings three days in a row, that's equivalent to a committed relationship."
"You're clinically insane," she shakes her head, scanning over her notes.
"Clinically sexy, you mean," he corrected, wagging his brows, his voice exaggerated loudly.
She let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded like it came from the pits of her stomach, the kind of sigh only Jaemin could evoke. However, silence had then settled between them again. This time, it was peaceful.
For once, Jaemin wasn't rambling silly little lines, openly flirting with her, or laughing gratingly loud. Instead, he was sitting there, occasionally stealing glances at her while she pretended not to notice. Then, out of nowhere, the words that had left Jaemin's lips gave her whiplash, paired with how casually he had said them.
"Wanna hang out this weekend?"
Y/N's pen slid across the page in shock, her head turning slowly, and suspiciously, like he had just asked her to help him bury a body, "Hang out?"
Jaemin shrugged, "Just thought we could do something, you know, outside of science experiments and this God-forsaken building."
She stared at him blankly for a moment longer before replying, "I'm busy."
"You don't even know what day I meant," Jaemin pouted, throwing rubber shavings her way, playfully.
He laughed under his breath, leaning back in his seat. "You'll say yes eventually."
"Not likely."
"We'll see."
She did end up saying yes.
When Friday afternoon came rolling in, and he caught up to her outside the school gates with another (peace offering) drink in hand, a grape-flavoured juice, he sent her a hopeful look with his lashes fluttering like the princess he claimed he was.
The weather carried a gentle breeze as the sun formed a subtle halo over the brunette male, making him appear even more angelic than he already was. His dark eyes were softer under the afternoon glow, and his smile felt like spring. Y/N didn't know why things were suddenly changing. Why her thoughts were becoming brighter and warmer in his presence. It was like he had merged into her life as though he had always belonged there, and she couldn't help but to give in.
She rolled her eyes, "Fine. One hour."
Jaemin blinked, surprise etching into his features, "Wait- what?"
"I'll hang out with you," she clarified, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as if she were an older sibling giving into the younger's request, "For an hour. And I'm not doing anything cheesy. If you take me anywhere with fairy lights or those photo booths, I will walk into on-coming traffic."
Jaemin burst into a fit of laughter, barely containing the smile stretching across his face, "You're the one who said yes."
"God," she grumbled, turning to walk ahead, not even waiting for him, "I'm already regretting this."
"No take backs!" He chirped as he caught up to her, grinning like he had won the lottery, "You'll regret it a lot less once you see what I had planned."
She stopped in her tracks, head snapping to him in shock. Not once had she hinted in agreeing to hang out with him, and yet, he had still put in the effort to plan something that wasn't guaranteed. Just because he wanted to make it something special.
"You planned it already?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "And why does that sound like a threat?"
"It's not! It's a promise," he beamed, "And of course I planned it. I knew you were going to agree. I mean, how could you say no to this face?"
He cupped his cheeks and batted his lashes at her. Usually, this would have been something that would instantly make her cringe yet, this time, it was so... Jaemin. So silly and adorably him. It gave her this sense of ease, as though it was alright for her to be just as silly, just as out there as he was. Despite what others may think.
However, Y/N gave him a long, stern look, unimpressed, "You are dangerously close to being punched in the throat."
Jaemin gasped, holding his arms up in defence, "Violence on our first date?"
"It is not a date," she said instantly, her voice a slight screech, feigning a scowl. Her heart was thumping erratically. A date? It was only a month ago when Jaemin had asked to be friends, but the spring-happy leprechaun wouldn't settle on just friends. Not with her.
"Sure it's not," he replied sarcastically, bumping his shoulder into hers. He watched as her teeth bit into the straw of the grape juice, lips puckering as she took a sip. God, he really was down bad.
"So, where exactly are we going?" she asked, interrupting his far from innocent thoughts.
Jaemin's smile twitched, internally cursing himself for getting carried away like that, "Somewhere where you can't walk into traffic."
She groaned, "Great. I can't escape by death."
Jaemin grinned, tugging at her sleeve lightly, "Nah, you're gonna fall."
"Fall?"
"For me," he replied smugly, wiggling his brows.
She stared at him long enough to make him shift slightly. He should have known corny, cheesy, unoriginal pick-up lines would never work on her, "…I changed my mind. Half an hour."
"I bet you're already falling for me," He continued to tease, gently poking at her sides and snickering at her annoyed expression.
"Keep talking and it'll be ten minutes."
He shut his mouth immediately, but the grin on his face didn't fade for even a second. Of course it wouldn't.
He had led her further down the quiet streets just beyond the school, the buzz of the busy roads echoing behind them. Suddenly, he turned into a narrow, sketchy pathway covered by dark walls and patched up windows.
"Okay, where the hell are we going?"
"You'll see, just trust me," Jaemin chirped, hopping over a puddle with the appearance of someone who probably believed in elves and the tooth fairy.
Y/N eyed the side of his face, as if analysing him, "You're like a golden retriever, and I don't mean that in a good way," she said, her tone dry, "Do you have this much energy even when you're in bed?"
Jaemin didn't miss a second, his lips curling into a smirk, "Depends who's in bed with me."
Y/N blinked, nearly choking on the last bit of juice, "You're disgusting."
"What?" he asked innocently, raising both hands in mock surrender, "You asked."
"And shameless," she muttered.
"And you're blushing," he shot back smugly.
She turned away quickly, muttering curses under her breath. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong… she was blushing.
However, when the path opened up to a skatepark, she was about to turn and walk in the opposite direction, until she saw a building to the right.
It was a planetarium, nestled at the far end of the park, hidden behind torn fences and overgrown trees, clearly abandoned. The soft, spring breeze weaved through the cracked windows and rustling dead leaves across the ground, making her anxious. It was silent, apart from the sharp creak of the iron gate as Jaemin kicked it open dramatically, letting her enter first.
"You're trespassing...," Y/N said nervously, yet still stepped past the gate.
"We are," Jaemin corrected, grinning as he didn't bother to shut the gate behind them, "You agreed to this, remember?"
She rolled her eyes, "I was coerced by grape juice."
Inside the planetarium was dark, where glimpses of sunlight flickered through the cracks of the walls. The air was coated in dust and old wood, the scent sharp in her throat — particles floated just like the glimmer of stars on the ceiling. The projector had sat in the centre, the lens still intact despite it rusting and coated in crumbling leaves and spider webs. But there was something almost... magical about this place, as though it carried many stories — a history.
"I used to come here a lot as a child," Jaemin said, his voice softer now, with a hint of nostalgia, "My dad used to work nearby, and he would take me after school sometimes. I mean... I loved the stars, it always intrigued me. I would just lie down right here and pretend they were real."
He lays down right in the middle of the dome, a softer, more pained smile gracing his lips as he saw the now faded stars that didn't seem to hold the same wonder it used to, "There was something so..."
"Magical," she voiced out her earlier thoughts, hesitantly laying down next to him.
He glanced over to see her looking up at the dimmed ceiling, the setting sun catching across her soft, pretty features, illuminating the curve of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips. She looked oddly beautiful here, even in this run-down, shabby space. It was like she brought that same wonder back with just her presence alone.
"So this was your idea of a perfect date?" she asked finally, but her voice was gentle, tugging at his heartstrings.
"It's peaceful and there are no fairy lights in sight," he teased, "Besides, you'll ruin my date rating if you start judging my choices."
They lay in silence for a while, staring up at a ceiling that once reflected galaxies. Now, the real stars peeked through the gaps as the sun had finally set, fragmented and imperfect, fitting in like puzzle pieces against the fabricated lights.
"You asked me before if I ever stop smiling," Jaemin says, quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. He lies still under the watching gaze of the fading stars, "Just... when no one is around."
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a bitter laugh, not reaching the crinkles of his eyes, "I think somewhere along the line, I decided that being the overly positive guy was who I was meant to be. If I kept people distracted by this- this image, no one would look close enough to see all the fragmented pieces. I wouldn't be a burden to others."
Y/N said nothing, biting her bottom lip.
"Sometimes it feels like… if I were to drop this act, people wouldn't know what to do with me," He turns his head slightly towards her, letting out a dry chuckle, "That I would be a handful. I'd come with all the baggage that overwhelms them."
Y/N felt her eyes glaze with tears, the brittle air pressing against her chest that made it feel almost suffocating. She hated how much she related to those words alone.
She shifts slightly on the cold floor, trying to make her voice sound neutral, "That sounds exhausting."
"I guess it is," Jaemin admits.
"I do understand, though," she responds, glancing at him, "With keeping up that image."
Her voice doesn't waver, but it had always been hard for her to be vulnerable as she never had the chance to with her own family, "It's weird. One day, conversation is easy, people are approachable and..."
He listens, his brows furrowing in focus.
"Being strong for everyone else meant having to lose a part of myself," She exhales shakily, her nails digging crescents into her palms, "And after a while, I stopped feeling like me. Now, it's like I'm just a shell and pushing people away is easier. You don't get hurt again."
Jaemin's fingers inch closer to her, his knuckles brushing along her hand and, when her pinky hooks around his, he can't help but to smile softly.
"Even so... I don't hate being around people," she whispers, "I don't hate being around you."
He feels his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen slightly when her soft gaze meets his. It was like he got a glimpse into the warmth beneath the grumbling girl, the gentle side of her that hid behind the protective wall. Her usual glaring, intense gaze was now soft and sweet, pupils big as they reflected the starry sky in them, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
Jaemin quickly snaps his head away, bringing a hand over his mouth, hiding his flustered smile, "This is dangerous," he mumbles to himself. Every moment he spent with her was making it harder for him to be normal, not with his body getting hot, and her pretty eyes that watched him curiously.
"What's dangerous?" She asks, confused.
"You, Y/N," he breathes, meeting her gaze again, "you don't understand just how gorgeous you are, how you look at me like that and... the fact that you really are someone so warm and funny and smart. And there is so much more to you that I-"
He chuckled nervously, interlocking his hand with hers more boldly, "I love that you're different. That you trusted me enough to share a piece of yourself. I also want to be someone who would take away all the burdens you've been carrying. To help fill your cup with you, because you're perfect to me, and I want you to see that too."
"But why? You barely know me," she asked quietly.
"Because it's you. But also... do we even need a reason? I just want to."
Her heart beats loud in her ears and tears finally fall, startling Jaemin as he began to panic, worried he may have overstepped in some way. However, it felt like those were words she needed to hear, even if it were just scratching the surface of understanding her, and her understanding him. It felt like she had finally met someone who could. Who would try.
"Jaemin," she calls out to him, and he blinks in response just as she leans in before she could think. Before she could stop herself.
Y/N's lips press to his softly. It was hesitant and shy, but it felt right. Slowly, her fingers cup his jaw and Jaemin pauses. He had waited for this moment, waited for when he could finally get through the protective wall she built around herself. She pulls away and he immediately pulls her back in.
When her lips meet his again, it's messier, with her running her fingers through his hair, parting her lips to mould with his. He feels the urgency in her hands, and he lets out a quiet groan when she climbs onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, yet never breaking the kiss.
Jaemin's palms settle at her waist, rubbing slow circles on her skin. He tries to control the pace, kissing her back slower, patiently, as he pulls away to catch his breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Let me-" his voice is breathy and hoarse; chest heaving, "Let me take my time with you, Y/N. Please."
When her eyes search his, he continues with a softer tone, "You deserve as much."
She leans forward again, kissing him slow.
His hands curl over the back of her neck, the other still cupping her waist, pulling her in a little closer. It feels different this time, gentle and tender. Their mouths move quietly under the witness of the stars, like they're both trying to memorise what the other feels like.
Jaemin sighs softly against her lips when she subtly grinds against him, and he rests his forehead against hers.
"You don't have to rush anything with me, Y/N," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."
"But I want this," she bites her lip, looking down at him. And that's all it takes for him to want to give in and give her everything she wants.
Jaemin's lips trail to her jaw, then down her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her heart flutter wildly. She whispers his name and he flips their positions so that she was under him now. His body hovers just above hers, brushing strands of her hair from her face.
He kisses her again, slowly at first, but the kiss deepens with each second. His hands slip beneath her soft jumper, fingers tracing along her waist and brushing just under the curve of her breast.
She arches into his touch when he cups her bra-clad breast, thumb swiping over her nipple. Her skin was warm and soft, paired with her sweet gasps, and he couldn't hold back any longer, pushing the jumper off of her.
"How could someone be so beautiful," he breathes out, his soft eyes delicately tracing over her frame as the subtle light of the moon hugged her skin. Her cheeks were flushed at the way he looked at her and, before she could feel any more shy, he connected his lips with hers again; tongue tracing the seam whilst his hands slipped under the lace, massaging her supple mounds.
Y/N tugged at his own hoodie, whining softly against his lips, to which he chuckled, sitting back to pull it off of him, not forgetting to place the clothing under her when he realised she was laying on the icy marble floor. Her cold, slender fingers cupped his jaw, trailing down his chest. It all felt unreal to the both of them; this moment under the stars. It was as though, under the moonlight, was her world. A glimpse into her inner warmth.
Soon, her jeans followed, his warm breath fanning against her inner thighs as his lips ghosted over the skin. He pressed gentle kisses slowly up, thumb finally grazing over her clothed clit which elicited a quiet moan from her. The moment he tugged her panties to the side, she knew what was coming and immediately gripped onto his hair in anticipation.
Jaemin's tongue licked a thick stripe up her folds and she shuddered. But he didn't stop there, picking up the pace. His humming against her had her cheeks flush. His warm breath and tongue guided her down the path towards ecstasy, hands pinning her thighs against his sprawled out hoodie. Each tug at the locks of his hair and the soft whines that left her lips, had Jaemin's control slip further, subtly grinding against the floor to find some sort of friction.
Y/N couldn't take it any more. Not his wet tongue that elicited lewd sounds from her lips, creating an erotic melody that layered with his eager licks and groans, paired with the squelching sounds as he finally pushed his fingers into her. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the stars, glimmering as he brought her to the edge. His fingers curled perfectly inside her, pressing against a bundle that made the thread snap, finally coming and coating his fingers with her release.
The sound he made when she shuddered beneath him; eyes rolling back, was so pretty, so guttural, she swore she could have come again right there and then.
"You're perfect, baby," he kissed the inside of her thigh before crawling up her writhing body, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, "We don't have to go all the way tonight, if you don't want to."
Immediately, she shook her head, pulling him in for a lazy kiss, "Jaemin... I want to. I'm sure."
He swore he felt his cock twitch at that, but he shook it off, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking it off along with his boxers. But he cursed at himself when the realisation dawned on him, "I-I'm sorry, baby. I don't have a condom. I mean... I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of tonight." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though she almost didn't hear him, too entranced by the size of him, needing to shake herself out of it.
"If you're okay with not using one, I'm okay with it too," she said without hesitation, "I'm on the pill and... Well, I can get the morning after-"
His soft chuckle had cut her words short, "You want me that bad, huh? Aren't you the same woman who was so eager to get rid of me earlier?"
Y/N grumbles under her breath, "Just shut up. Are you going to sleep with me or what? It's getting cold."
Jaemin shakes his head in amusement, hovering over her. The way he looks at her has her heart race; the affection that he doesn't bother to hide, the way his eyes are constantly flicking over her features as if etching them into memory, and the way he isn't quick with claiming her, always making sure she's okay and giving her time to back out. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
"Fuck... do you know what you do to me?" He breathes out, nuzzling into her touch and placing a kiss to the inside of her hand.
Then, he slides his member through her folds, pushing into her inch by inch, pausing every time her brows furrow even slightly. Even when it was torturous for him, he put her first, waiting until the corners of her lips relaxed, and the space between her brows didn't crease.
Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, and she had relaxed around him, he started to move, picking up the pace a little at a time, her sounds playing as the guide. She was perfect, fitting around him like a glove, wrapping her legs over his hips, rocking into him to feel him deeper, as if he wasn't close enough for her.
Jaemin rested his forehead against hers, his groans synchronised with her pretty moans, "God..." he breathed out, letting his hand cup her waist, fingers pressed into her dewy skin as he grinded into her.
Y/N grabbed onto whatever she could, moving to nestle into his neck, her warm breath and plush lips brushing over his pulse point, "Y-yes, Jaemin...," her nails dug into his back, toes curling at every rock of his hips, every push of his dick into her, had the stars on the ceiling feel brighter and all-consuming, "F-fuck."
Jaemin couldn't handle it, couldn't prolong her release any longer. He grabbed onto her thighs, pushing them out and up to angle his thrusts better. Then, he grabbed onto her wrists, pulling them towards him, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he picked up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was so dirty under the witness of the gleaming moonlight.
Her head rolled back, mouth agape as deep, throaty sounds escaped her. The moment she began to shudder, he knew he had made her come a second time, his own release following right after.
Jaemin collapsed on top of her, his large frame burying her in warmth as she let out a lazy giggle, snuggling into him, "That was..."
"Amazing? I know."
She smacked his shoulder playfully, "You're so cocky. For all you know, I could have been about to say that it was mediocre, or abysmal, or-"
"Or the hottest thing ever," Jaemin pressed a kiss under her jaw, rolling off of her to grab the sleeve of his hoodie that still nestled under her figure, wiping away at the inside of her thighs.
Just then, a flashlight peeked through the hallway just outside the door. Immediately, the pair glanced at each other, Jaemin muttered a loud 'shit', before quickly slipping on his boxers and jeans, and she chucked his hoodie at him, throwing her own clothes back on — barely.
"We gotta go, now," Jaemin grabbed at her wrist before she could put her jeans and shoes on, darting out the back just as the security guard opened the door, yelling a 'who's there?'
As soon as they made it out of the planetarium and into the chilly night air, out of breath and barely able to stand up straight, Jaemin and Y/N let out a chuckle that sounded more like relief, finally bursting into a fit of laughter, barely able to keep their balance. She used that time to slip on her jeans and shoes, elbowing Jaemin, "We almost got arrested. You sure this is still a good date spot?"
Jaemin raised an amused brow at her, catching his breath after laughing, shrugging, "I just bagged the most perfect, smartest, and most unattainable woman in there. I'd say it's the date spot."
Y/N rolled her eyes, interlocking her fingers with his as she led him back onto the main street, "You better not bring anyone but me."
Jaemin stopped in his tracks, turning her around to face him as he held onto both of her hands, his face serious, "Of course. It's only ever been you, Y/N. I know we've only been on just one date and I know I get on your nerves, and that I barely carried any weight on that science project," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, "But I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. Just know that I'll spoil you like crazy, because we both know that I'm the one who is down bad, who is so madly in love I can't think straight in your presence. I know it's only been a short while, but sometimes it just clicks and it clicked with you, Y/N. It clicked perfectly."
She couldn't stifle a wide smile, her eyes glazing over as she nodded eagerly, squeezing his hands tightly, "I can't say it's love just yet I... I need time, but I do like you, a lot and, I want to give us a try. I'll let you be my boyfriend."
Jaemin didn't realise he was holding his breath, letting out a sigh of relief, "I'm not expecting you to feel anything more than that, Y/N. That's more than enough for me, more than I can ask for or feel worthy of."
She tutted at him, sending him a playfully annoyed expression, "You're worthy of a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Jaemin."
6 months later...
"Haechan, don't be a brat, I told you to put the candles on the candle holders before placing them on the cake," Y/N scowled at the male, who only shrugged in response.
"You really don't need candle holders for this, he'll blow the candles out in like... two seconds. No wax will drip on the cake," He swiped his finger over the frosting, licking it off which had her smack his shoulder.
Renjun let out a frustrated sigh at their usual bickering, shoving Haechan to the side and placing the candles on the toppers, "Stop being difficult, Haechan. This isn't your event."
Haechan grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the fridge, "You guys need to get a DNA test, it's crazy how similar you both are."
Chenle, who was still wearing sunglasses indoors, peers up from his phone after watching the tracking map, seeing Jaemin's icon pulling up to the apartment, "Guys, he's almost here, stop fighting."
Y/N quickly scrambles to grab the cake, causing Renjun to whine, "Careful, this will all go to waste if you drop it!"
She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping the cake into her hands as she moves to stand in front of the door, "Okay, as soon as you hear the elevator, light the candles. Don't mess this up!"
Haechan grabs the lighter from the counter, standing next to her as he angles it just above the first candle, "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want the leader of the underworld to beat my ass."
She sends him a glare, kicking his leg which causes him to yelp, "I am not Hades!"
"Well, Hades would have kicked my leg too!"
"Because you deserved it!"
Chenle, who was now standing in front of the door, jumps in surprise when he hears the elevator ding, "Guys, shut up, he's here!"
Haechan, about to clap back at her, quickly lights the candles, struggling with the last one until it finally burns a flame into the thread just in time for the front door to open. Renjun could have sworn he almost had a heart attack from the way their whole surprise could have gone bust.
As soon as Jaemin steps inside, the quartet broke into song, singing happy birthday to the male who never would have expected a surprise from the people who meant the most to him. A smile tugged at his lips, his toothy grin wide as he finally met the gaze of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He knew it was her idea, that she brought them here for him, even though it had taken a while for them to all grow close.
When the song ends, Jaemin's eyes flutter closed to make his wish, blowing out the candles, causing everyone to cheer. Haechan ruffles Jaemin's hair, Chenle claps his back, and Renjun gives him a curt nod and birthday wishes, taking the cake from Y/N's hands before the three of them move to the living room, preparing to hand him the presents.
Jaemin doesn't stop smiling at her, pulling her into a tight hug, his nose nestling into her hair, "Thank you for organising all of this, Y/N... It means the world."
She chuckles, "Of course, I knew how much it would mean to you. I'm just surprised I could get everything ready in time, knowing how easily the four of us bicker."
Jaemin chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze, "Am I the luckiest man ever? I think I am."
She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're so annoying. This is why I love you."
Jaemin paused, his eyes widening slightly as the words finally registered, "You..."
When she realised why he had been shocked, she shakes her head in amusement, pulling him in for a sweet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulled back, "I love you, Jaemin. I was just waiting for the right time to say it."
The three men hollered from the living room, but Jaemin let those sounds drown out, cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands as he pulled her back in for another kiss, parting his lips against hers, tugging at the plush skin as he smiled into her mouth, "I love you too, Y/N."
summary: when the kissing lesson lowkey gives you a bonerrrrr.. omggg…
cw: reader has curls, cheap ass couch, reader is evidently more experienced than ji, smut — kinda subby!ji, dry humping, reader gets called mommy by accident.., ji cums in his pants. oops!
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the clock read 11:14 at night and jisung’s eyes burnt holes into the ceiling. the broken springs in the couch made his back ache. no matter how hard he tried to get you and your soft, plush lips out of his mind, he couldn’t. and you being laid on top of him only made it that much harder.
after he had valiantly fought over the wall of awkwardness left behind by your kissing lesson, you and jisung had decided to watch a movie; of your choice obviously.
the movie you chose was of absolutely no interest to him. something about two guys frantically trying to get laid before college? gross.
but in requesting this movie, when you nestled between his mandspread legs and laid your head against his chest in efforts to ‘get more comfortable,’ he lost all grounds to complain.
your voice interrupted the low volume dialogue on the tv. “ji?”
he hummed in response.
“you asleep?”
“nope.”
“you enjoying the movie?”
“nope.”
you turned abruptly in shock, “huh??” now face to face with him, “it’s superbad, this is like.. the best movie.”
jisung felt his heart grow warm at the sight of your pout and the corners of his mouth threatened to raise. the gentle light of the tv on your face made you look so real to him. like something different than usual.
“i don’t know,” his purred, just above a whisper as his eyes scanned over your face, “i’m just bored of it, i guess.”
“well, go to bed then. and i’ll just go home.”
jisung immediately sat up straight, almost knocking you off of the couch. “what no!”
your eyes widened slightly at his reaction.
jisung started to ramble, “i mean, like. no, i’m not tired. i just don’t really fuck with superbad. i don’t know.”
you soothed your hand over your ear before laying back down on him, “riiiigghttt. so it’s not that you don’t want me to go home? pretty rude.”
jisung’s chest shook gently under you with laughter. “no, that too, obviously.”
you rolled your eyes before lifting your head once again to rub your ear. the sound of jisung’s heartbeat was somewhat soothing at first but it seemed to have gotten louder in the last couple minutes. your eardrums were crying out.
“jisungie, if you’re not at all entertained by this movie, why is your heart palpitating directly into my ear? you got the hots for mclovin?”
“hm?”
you sat up fully. “nothing. you’re acting weird.”
jisung felt heat rise under the surface of his skin, “whatareyoutalkingabout?”
you squinted at him. “is this because we kissed?”
you were met with silence and a blank stare and immediately curled in on yourself, “aw shit, dude…”
jisung was involuntarily unresponsive as you backed away further — as far as you could without falling off the couch. his lips were moving like he wanted to reassure you so badly but nothing was coming out of him.
“jisung, im sorry, wanted to help, i-i didn’t—
“no, no, don’t freak out,” he reached out to grab one of your arms.
“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—
jisung grabbed onto your other arm to try and bring you back to him on the couch, “waitt,” he was trying not to laugh. mean ass.
“and then i went and laid on your chest, like.. i feel like a creep.”
jisung finally succeeded in bringing you back to him and wrapped his arms fully around you. he spoke, muffled, into the thickness of your curls,
“you’re not a creep. don’t be dumb.”
limply, you let your chin fall onto his chest.
“i just.. have a lot of thoughts right now. i’m not trying to be awkward.” his hands soothingly rubbed your back and you sighed. “swear.”
unfortunately,, you couldn’t find it in yourself not to interrupt this heartfelt moment. “wow, ji, you’re so.. boyfriend coded, sometimes.” it was now you going to rub his back. but he swiftly jolted away,
“what??!”
“i feel so cared for.” you gazed up at him playfully and his face scrunched up.
“you don’t have to be a boyfriend to care for someone, yknow. what does that even mean.”
jisung’s eyes darted all over the room. the door, the window; as if he was looking for escape routes. probably because if you looked directly into his eyes for long enough, you’d realise how into you he truly is.
you shrugged, “i don’t know. i caught a vibe. or something.”
“you caught a vibe?” the cringe was visible on his face, even in the dimly lit room.
“i was feeling something! i don’t know.”
all he could do was laugh in your face. and when the laughter died down. you remained staring at each other in the silence you left. for what seemed like forever, you stared. you wished you could hear what he was thinking, because the longer you settled in silence, the rosier his cheeks appeared in the dark. cross-legged and facing each other, you felt your bodies leaning.
strangely enough, you didn’t notice the seemingly magnetic pull between you until you felt jisung’s lips against yours.
your body didn’t allow you the time to question what was going on before you could card your fingers through his hair, while his big hands found their way to your waist, dragging upwards so his thumbs could rub at your bare skin.
no different from you, jisung had no idea how he had found himself to get so lucky. but what he did know, was what you taught him.
one of the hands from your waist moved to your jaw and tilted your head slightly. his tongue ran over the expanse of your bottom lip; a silent request that you allow him access. you granted his request and a soft moan rose out of him.
you had pulled away to try and tease him but his hand at the back of your neck pulled you back, just for him to peck your lips,
“you have to use your tongue,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “so that i can copy you.. and know that i’m doing it right…”
your eyelids fluttered at his words before he went it to kiss you once again. you brushed your tongue against his, eliciting another moan from him as his hands squeezed at your sides. you wrapped your arms around his neck and crawled into his lap.
“jisungie, i didn’t think you’d be this vocal. i guess i should have, but i just didn’t.” you breathed out.
jisung passed a weak attempt at laughing your comment off. but his body betrayed him, his hips stuttered upwards into you.
“mmph— shit, i’m sorry. sorry, y/n.” he braced his hand against your thigh, leaning back on the other one and you whined at the friction.
wordlessly, you rocked your hips down over his and he groaned into your neck. his breath was hard against your skin, making you shiver.
“please. keep doing that.” both his hands were now on your hips, “that feels so good.” he whimpered.
you hummed at him and harshly rolled your hips into his once again. you felt your eyes flutter closed and you wondered whether it was from the pleasure or due to the fact that you wanted nothing less than to become sentient at this moment and realise that.. this is kinda fuckin strange. who would have thought a kissing lesson would end up like this? huh.
his lips had since moved down to kiss at your neck, making you keen and throw your head back — a sight that almost knocked jisung clean out.
the fact that this time yesterday, he had never even kissed anyone, but now he had a girl on top of him was triggering some sort of system overload. not that he was some sort of sex pest that was overly well versed in masterbation, but he claimed to know how to hold his own, knew how to ‘prolong the experience.’
that being said, at this moment in time, he didn’t think he had ever felt this sensitive before. it was like he was back to square one. d1 virgin.
“ah— please, please..” jisung breathed into your neck as his hands subconsciously rose up to grope at your chest and he thrusted up into you, “y/n, you feel so good.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re not even in me yet..”
the indirect promise that, eventually, he would get to fuck you, made his eyes roll back with a groan. just the thought of getting to slide himself into your warmth made heat prickle at the back of his neck. he groaned internally in pure embarrassment over the effect you had on him. he was getting close.
your hand stroked at his face. as much as you were enjoying the show of him writhing and whining under you, you needed to feel his lips on yours again.
“jisung, please kiss me again.”
and he wanted to give you that so badly. he also so badly wanted to not cum in his pants. not that he had any choice in the matter anyway.
“i-i want to.”
your brows furrowed, “ji.. you can. it’s okay.”
jisung groaned loudly, “ughh, fuck, okay. okay, okay, come here.” no point fighting it now.
one of his big hands moved from your breasts and reached up to your neck as he pressed both your lips together in a feverish kiss. desperately whines rose out of the back of his throat with each swipe of his tongue over yours. you had started to grind your hips harder and he swore he was going to die right then.
“ouu, fuckk,” he moved his face back to your neck, “i’m so close, ma- mmph.”
“you’re getting close?”
“m-mommy— fuck, i’m gonna cum.”
your legs involuntarily squeezed around his hips. the more outwardly submissive he got, the more frantic your movements became. like some sort of fucked up chain reaction.
“don’t stop, don’t stop, mommy, please.”
jisung’s breath picked up and you started to breathe heavier when his hips stuttered upwards into yours. his moans became louder and more irregular as he wrapped his arms around your body.
“i’m c-cumming.” he sighed into your chest followed by a lewd string of high pitched moans. his breath was shallow against your bare chest before he dropped his body backwards onto the couch, catching his breath with heavy lidded eyes. you followed, flopping your torso down onto his heaving chest.
you poked his arm, making him twitch, “are you awake.”
“mhm.” ji scrunched his eyes closed. he wished he wasn’t.
“did you call me ‘mommy’ just now?”
“mm.. no.”
your brows knit together, “huh, okay.”
his chest rose and fell in deep breaths under your head.
“park jisung, we have so much to talk about.”
he brought up a hand to massage his temple, “uh huh.” and it settled in that the trajectory of your friendship might just have been changed forever. oh well!
“and you didn’t make me finish, so the pussy eating lesson is next. mkay?”
pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!haechan x collegestudent!afab!reader
summary: you and your best friend haechan are strapped for cash and desperate to make some... quick. thank god he has the best idea ever to make a sex tape!
warnings: mdni 18+ only, smut, masturbation, swearing, marking, porn with plot, face fucking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don't do this), dirty talk, oral (receiving and giving) fingering, manhandling, praise, creampie, pet names, fluff, crack/humor, this is so unserious, you are all freaks in this
you thought the line was crossed after the internet bill cost more than an arm and a leg or when the water was shut off because of an overdue bill, but this was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened. all you wanted to do was take a nice long hot shower, you stripped off your pajamas and climbed into the tub. turning on the water you jumped back and let out a small scream, scrambling to turn off the water, you let out small cries as the ice-cold water continued to pelt your back. finally shutting off the shower, you shivered, stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body, holding it close.
leaving the bathroom, you march down the hallway, finding your best friend and roommate, haechan, on the couch. he looked up from his phone when you stopped in front of him with your arms crossed.
he smirked, ‘not sure what i did to deserve this’
rolling your eyes and huffing, ‘did you pay the gas bill? The water was freezing!!’
haechan quickly stood up, ‘i thought you did!’
‘no it was your turn this month!’ you cried.
he fell back on the couch, letting his body slump in the cushions, ‘fuck’
you sighed, moving to sit down next to him. ‘im so fucking tired of being broke, dude’
‘yeah, you’re preaching to the choir’ you replied with a lifeless laugh.
‘our jobs fucking suck, our pay fucking sucks, these prices fucking suck. we have tried everything and now what else is there to do? ask chenle for money!? yeah fucking right, i’m not owing that little shit anything’ he vented.
you sighed standing up, ‘i don’t really know what else to do either, we are too busy to take on a second job, we tried delivering food and driving others around, but it’s never enough’ you agreed with him.
he grabbed your hand when you stood up, you looked down, ‘don’t worry, i’ll think of something’ you nodded, seeing the sincerity swirl in his chocolate brown eyes you nodded.
later that evening haechan, and you sat down for dinner in front of the tv watching whatever you could pay attention to, pushing your money problems to the back of your mind. you placed your empty bowl on the small table in front of you, ‘i’m not doing the dishes with the water being this cold’ you smiled. haechan laughed and grabbed your bowl, taking it to the sink to do the dishes himself, you followed him into the small kitchen. you stood and stared at his back, his shoulders now much broader than the boy you first met ten years ago, his slender fingers moving around the bowl as he scrubbed the food off, he turned back at you and it was so hard not to notice his plush, pink lips that moved into a small smile every time he saw you, and it always made your heartbeat skip. it was so hard to decide if you wanted to be him or be with him.
‘i thought of an idea’ he said nonchalantly, glancing back at you to see your reaction.
‘oh god’ you laughed, nervously you asked, ‘should i be scared?’
‘probably?’ haechan answered, finishing up the two dishes and facing you in the kitchen now.
he ran his hand through his chestnut-colored hair, his hands flying everywhere as he started to explain his thought process behind this ‘genius idea’.
‘we should…’ he paused, and you quirked your eyebrow up, ‘make a sex tape!’
you snorted and double up laughing, ‘you’re fucking insane’ to continue the theatrics you pretended to whip non-existent tears.
‘no, okay, listen… it’s a crazy idea, but think of all the money we could make’ he sighed, now growing embarrassed due to the idea he was so confident in before. his cheeks grew red, scratching the back of his neck, ‘as we said earlier, we tried everything, but not this’
‘fuck’ you breathed, he was serious, mind going a million miles a second trying to come up with anything better, ‘they make so much money on only fans and stuff i fear you might be right’ it’s not like you didn't want to have sex with your best friend and roommate, you always thought he was attractive and had a body you dreamed to have in your bed. of course you would never tell him that to his face, his ego would get too big you'd have to move out. being best friends since middle school had its perks, each other's first kiss, each other's first small sexual experience at the end of high school, something you both agreed to never speak of after it had happened. so, you figured with something like this it would be something similar, you would make a couple of sex tapes, post them, and then rake in the cash and never speak of it ever again. however you didn't want something this extreme to change any aspect of your relationship with haechan, yes you were attracted to him and he was your favorite person but you liked where your relationship was at right now.
he pumped his fists up in the air, whooping as you finally agreed that one of his plans was feasible. ‘i know! i think it's probably one of the best ideas i’ve ever had’ he said proudly. ‘i can borrow one of jaemins nice cameras to film, we have to research what could make us the most money too’ he noted.
you nodded, ‘we should lay down some ground rules too, i don’t want to just jump into this and both do something we regret’
he turned to you, acting genuinely confused, ‘what would we regret?’ you inhaled his cologne as he moved in closer to you.
you looked up at him as he caged you between him and the kitchen table, you shuddered as your lower back made contact with the cold surface. you looked down now too nervous to look into his eyes that stared down at you, ‘i-i don’t know haechan, i just don’t want anything between us to change’ you said now feeling small even though your heart was jumping for joy.
‘you don’t? that’s a shame’ he clicked his tongue in disappointment, his voice low. not knowing what to say, you gulped waiting for him to continue, ‘when it comes to you, i don’t think there’s anything i could regret sweetheart’
oh, damn him, if you weren't supported by the table your knees would've already given out and you would've sucked his dick right then and there. what he said lit your body on fire but the subtle pet name went right to your core, shamefully feeling your panties growing wetter. he always played these games when he wanted something, using cute pet names and pleading in a cute way where anyone would say yes, but this time seemed different. hearing the sincerity in his voice made the situation feel all too real, you couldn't believe this was real.
‘wha-’ you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, ready to ask for further explanation but he stopped you, placing his finger over your open mouth.
‘do you trust me?’ he whispered.
all you could do was nod at him, while your best friend was playful and mischievous, you knew he could also be serious and forthright. it makes you think back to the time when mark wouldn't let haechan drive his car ever, saying he would never in a million years trust him. on the other hand when there was ever tension between his friend group he would be the one to go out of his way and get everyone all together again and diffuse any tensity. there were some things most people wouldn't trust haechan on but if he said you two could climb mount everest, you'd meet him at the spot.
‘good’ he replied, ‘get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow’ he smirked and stalked away from you, hearing his bedroom door shut you let out a long breath. the air around you seemed too thin and you took that as your cue to also head to your room. you got ready for bed, climbed into your sheet and turned off your lamp, falling back into the mattress you stared up at the ceiling mind blanking and trying to process everything that happened an hour ago. you turned and grabbed your phone, wincing as the light burned your eyes. opening up the search engine you turned on incognito because there was no way this was ever going into your search history. typing in ‘popular porn categories’ you nervously waited as the page loaded. ‘seriously?’ you said to yourself as you read the words ‘milf’ and ‘lesbian’, so those were off the table. continuing to scroll you made mental notes of everything that could get you clicks, words like ‘creampie’ and ‘anal’, some things you weren't against, but stuff that seemed pretty straightforward.
you put down your phone and sighed, bored and unable to sleep. so, doing what most girls do when they are bored and in bed: masturbate. you slide your hand down your body, stopping just above the waistband of your pink sleep shorts. automatically thinking of haechan and imagining it was his hands sliding into your panties. soon, you reminded yourself. you finally reached the sweet spot, you tried your best to suppress your moans as your fingers worked in circles around your clit, occasionally taking your fingers down to dip in between your folds and pump them in and out, closing your eyes and making up a picture of haechan in your head on him above you, wishing it was his cock being driven inside of you. biting down on your bottom lip as your hips lurched forward due to the friction, you let out a small cry as you came all over your fingers, ending it by rubbing the stickiness over your worn-out pussy.
you cursed silently, getting up and going to the bathroom to clean yourself. after you gave yourself a well-deserved whores bath you got a clean pair of undies and slipped back into bed, now tired enough to go to sleep.
you wake up to a sunny saturday morning, stretching your limbs out you get out of bed and grab your phone, heading to the kitchen for what little breakfast you can have. you and haechan were never big money makers, at least not yet. you had a job doing entry graphic design for a yearbook company, paid like shit, but at least you were working towards something while going to school. haechan was majoring in software engineering but couldn't find any companies willing to hire someone without a degree, he seemed to always miss the chance to apply for internships so he was stuck at his job of being a mystery shopper, which also didn't pay that well. so, you both lived paycheck to paycheck and scraped what little you could to do things with friends and go out, haechan always telling you to go bat your eyes and act cute with every man in clubs so you both could get free drinks.
you opened the pantry and opted for the generic-branded cereal, hoping to every god in existence there was some milk in the fridge, you slowly opened it and silently cheered when there was a bit left. having all the ingredients you made up your bowl of cereal, sat down in the creaky kitchen chair and dug in. looking around you noticed haechan wasn't home, his shoes were gone along with his house keys, he never mentioned going anywhere so you opened your phone and checked on ‘find my friends’. you zoomed in on his little contact picture that was set years ago and obviously the perfectly, most embarrassing picture. he was at jaemins, for some reason unbeknownst to you. you continued to eat and scroll through whatever social media app could hold your attention. after breakfast, you cleaned your bowl (despite the cold water) and sat on the couch to pass the time until haechan came home.
you heard the door swing open, immediately standing up you walked without even thinking up to haechan. he gave you an inquisitive look as to why you came upon him so suddenly. then you noticed the camcorder in his hand… jaemins camcorder, oh.
‘i didn't know you left this morning’ you explained.
‘i was at jaemins’ i know you wanted to say, ‘i was getting this.’ he gestured to the video camera in his hand, taking off his shoes and throwing his keys onto the table.
you were rooted in place as you watched him move around the apartment nonchalantly, ‘did you tell him what it was for?’ you asked restlessly. scared that he confided in jaemin of your little plan to make more money, if he did, you could probably never look into the poor man's eyes ever again.
‘oh god no, i told him it was for a project you were working on but couldn't come to get it yourself’ haechan answered and that consoled your worried mind. ‘he expects it back by thursday’ he winked at you, and closed the door to his room, leaving you a loss for words at the front door.
you went back to your room, confused as to why haechan didn't bring up anything about the sex tape(scapades), like he knew nothing about it while it was his idea in the first place. he was probably nervous and getting ready, didn't want to ruin the mood or overthink any decisions that were already put into place from last night. you decided to lay in bed and watch videos and play on your phone to pass the time. after a while of shifting around in bed and switching between the same ten apps, you didn't realize the time when haechan softly knocked on your door, saying that dinner was ready.
you got up and opened your door, surprised by the setup he put together, there was a white sheet over the coffee table in front of the tv with multiple candles lit (needed them for when your electricity got shut off), there were wine glasses included a plate of food that looked absolutely delicious. ‘wow, haechan you really outdone yourself’ haechan was romantic when he wanted to be, asking gift and flower suggestions for whatever girl he decided to get involved with during that time. it always stung a bit, but you could never turn him away as a best friend.
‘anything for my favorite girl’ he smiled, and led you to the couch, taking your hand as you sat down. you blushed at his comment, almost feeling like this was a real date at a real fancy restaurant. but of course reality is that you are eating spaghetti on a couch in pajamas before getting absolutely railed by your best friend. you almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. he poured some wine into your glass, and turned towards the tv to put on your favorite movie. it was all really sweet and made your heart swell with adoration for the boy next to you. even with the cards he was dealt in the situation he exceeded expectations and went out of his way to make everything special for you. you dug into your food and took a sip of wine, ‘ugh’ you gagged, ‘this is the cheap shit’ you both laughed at the reaction and he gave you a of course it is look.
‘don’t worry, when we are raking in the cash, i’ll get you the good stuff, and take you on a real, proper first date’ he smiled sheepishly, not confident in his words, worried you'd object to his obvious advances.
it was almost impossible to keep your heart from jumping out of your throat at his words, not believing what you just heard. you coughed, thinking of a way to get back at him, ‘i will be looking forward to that’. he beamed, giving you a toothy smile, your insides twisted, he was too cute for his own good, taking everything in you not to devour him whole right there. you swallowed your spit and turned back towards your food, finishing it off within a couple of bites.
haechan got up and took your plate to the sink, not bothering to clean them. he walked up to you and took your hands in his, looking down at the connection. wondering if he could feel how hot you were, haechan was always a touchy person and cuddled with you more times than you could count. but those times didn't make you feel this way, you knew tonight was different. ‘go get ready,’ he walked you to your bedroom door, dropping your hands he went to his door, ‘the video camera is all charged up’ he went inside and with that you scrambled around your room, thinking of what ‘get ready’ could mean. it was his job to prep you right? pacing around the room reality sunk in and you knew what to do. now going through your small closet, trying to find the only piece of lingerie you had. a gift from a past boyfriend, probably worth more than what you wanted to know.
‘ah-ha!’ you pulled it out of the pile of clothes that remained on the floor, it was somewhat misshapen from being at the bottom of the wreckage but salvageable. it was a red teddy with lace and a thong that hugged your curves perfectly. it was comfortable and sexy while also leaving some stuff up to the imagination, you knew haechan would love it. mentally thanking yourself for shaving everything before the gas got turned off, you slipped it on and checked yourself in the mirror, twisting and turning admiring the way it snatched your waist perfectly. you moved to your small vanity and put on light makeup, with plenty of mascara, knowing it would be picture-perfect to let the camera witness as it flows down your cheeks knowing you'd probably end up crying in pleasure soon. you threw on your robe and peeked outside of the door, haechan was nowhere to be seen but you were ready, hyping yourself up there was no backing out now.
you moved towards his door, softly knocking and waiting for him, clit quivering in anticipation. you pictured all the ways he'd have you tonight, silently hoping this would take off and you'd have no choice but to make more videos to appease the viewers that didn't even exist yet. haechan opened the door, he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. ‘you look beautiful, doll’ he breathed, like he was a tiger, and you were the prey, he took his time taking in your appearance.
you blushed, ‘you look gorgeous too’ he was in a tight-fitted black shirt along with those famous gray sweatpants, and you could barely control yourself. he looked like a god, his brown hair now dark, the light only coming from his room. his features were highlighted under the warm glow, his eyes growing dark in hunger, his nose perfectly sculpted and you were ready to beg him to let you sit on his face, needless to say, he was absolutely divine.
he opened his door wider, ‘shall we start?’ his eyebrow up in question. you nodded walking into his room, entrapped in his space and musk, you could get lost in the space forever. he grabbed your hands like before, ‘do you trust me?’ he was sincere, and you nodded, ‘because everything is about to change’
you nodded, whispering, ‘i can't wait’ you looked up at him, silently pleading for him to do anything at all. he leaned into you, noticing how his eyes kept moving from your eyes to your mouth, bracing yourself and closing your eyes, his breath was on your cheek.
‘the camera is rolling baby’ and with that he graced his lips with yours, moving to a rhythm you both fell into immediately. you could feel the sparks fly as your heart soared, his lips fitting perfectly into yours, soft but also rugged with the way he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. your body now flush with his, shrugged off your robe you let it fall to the ground, haechan stopped his movements and took a step back. breathing hard and looking over your body in a very new way, staring at him feeling like daniel being thrown into the lion's den, chest heaving up and down you whined due to the surprising lack of contact. ‘fuck, you are so fucking hot baby’ he moaned, going back to the position you were both in. you gave him a coy smile, ‘did you wear this just for me? do you know how crazy i get when you walk around the apartment looking like a total slut? now here you are, in something that barely covers anything’ he grabbed the strap over your shoulder, pulled it back with his finger, and let it slap back on your skin. you sucked in a breath, feeling the slick pool into the thread, on your thighs. ‘not sure what i did to deserve this baby’ he ghosted his hands over your body, grabbing onto your lace-covered tit. you moaned at the contact, his lips now on yours again, moving much rougher and more hungry and teeth clashed together and tongues dancing in dominance. haechan picked you up, lips never leaving yours until he threw you on the bed, landing with a thump, going limp you grabbed the sheets in anticipation, watching as he threw off his shirt and pants. your mouth dropped, ready to take him right now if he wanted. his defined body shone with sweat, abs glistening, eyes finding his happy trail and erection confined in his briefs your mouth watered at the sight. you figured he was blessed with a good length, but now you were wondering if it would even fit.
taking the situation into your own hands, getting on all fours you crawl to him at the end of the bed. ‘haechan, please let me suck your cock’ you begged, yearning for nothing else but to feel his fat and heavy member choke you. he said nothing, acting unimpressed like your pleads didn't meet his expectations. whimpering in desperation, ‘i can show you what you deserve my pretty boy, please use my mouth’ he groaned at the pet name, stroking his length. he took a step in front of you, face now in front of his thick cock.
‘lay on your back’ he ordered, obliging immediately, he grabbed you and brought you towards him, head now hanging slightly off the bed. you watched him upside down stripping himself of his briefs and letting his member free, it slapped against his toned stomach, never taking his eyes off of you as he spit in his palm and pumped his erection. he had such a pretty cock, and your core burned at the beautiful sight in front of you. thighs instinctively rubbing together to create some friction. ‘open up’ mouth falling open he teased the tip on your lips. he pushed his length into your mouth, trying to adjust quickly, haechan started trusting at a small pace, letting you get used to the feeling. haechan shudders at the hot feeling, groaning as you gag on his cock. drool piled up and spilled out of your mouth and all over heachan, he trusted faster losing his mind over the noises you continued to make. you grabbed the sheets under you until your knuckles went white, mind spinning from the position as your best friend fucked your mouth with full force. he grabbed your boob under the lingerie and pinched your nipple making you shiver and cry around his length. he pulled out and you coughed and whipped the spit from your face. moving back into an upright position, collecting yourself, and watching as haechan went to grab the camcorder that sat on his desk. he brought it to your face, ‘did you enjoy sucking my dick?’ he asked.
‘yes’ you breathed, ‘your cock is so pretty and big’ staring into the camera lens, haechan watched you through the screen, his dick jumped in excitement at the lewd scene in front of him. his hand reached behind your head, you accepted it melting into his touch. grabbing your hand he pushed your lips back to his pulsing member, head red with anger and ready to let go. instinctively opening, he pushes it back into your mouth, raggedly pushing the back of your head down his length until your nose touches his pelvis. gagging and slurping up your spit as best as you could, it dribbles down your chin as you moan around him, making him groan at the vibration. as glassy eyes stared into the camera, the camcorder picked up the whimpered sounds as hot, wet tears glided down your cheeks. after a couple of last thrusts haechan lets go of your hair, pushing you off of him, and moves back, ‘give me a show baby, take it off’ you oblige and start with the straps, trying to make it as sexy as possible for the camera. you smile innocently, as you free your tits, moving your hand to play with it, before lifting your lower body to strip yourself naked.
haechan moans, as you toss the garment to the floor, staring up at him he cages you in, climbing on top of you and kissing your neck, violently sucking on the skin and lightly biting, ‘im going to leave so many bruises, so everyone knows you're mine’ he whispered against your sensitive skin. you mewled at his words, the thought of being his. ‘please,’ you gasped through rugged breaths, ‘make me yours’ he placed his knees between your thighs, feeling your wetness as it pooled onto the sheets and him. your hips buckled forward, trying to get some sort of pressure onto your sopping cunt. he continued moving downward, the camcording moving with him, letting it see what he did. he kissed over your boobs, giving them little kitten licks as you moaned at the contact.
finally reaching your entrance, he motioned for you to take the camera and film him, which you did with shaking hands. now pointed at him, he stared into the lens, as you watched him through the screen he delved in, giving your lips small licks which turned into harsh lapping sounds as he abused your clit. he never looked away from the camera, the eye contact making you moan as it felt so intimate, yet so dirty. this really was the best idea he ever had. you hissed as his finger slid into your entrance, so hot and warm, you distinctively moved your hips towards his hand, wanting more. he added another finger, stretching you in preparation, ‘fuck, you are so tight’ he observed, pumping his fingers in and out of you. the coil in your stomach tightened and the air around you felt so heavy, you knew the band was about to snap. shuddering, your eyes and head rolling back ‘i think i’m gonna cum chan’ you whimpered. but, he stopped and his fingers exited your hole with a squelching sound, crying at the loss of contact your head moved back towards his, shooting daggers.
‘i want you to cum on my cock beautiful. watch you fall apart as i fuck you stupid’ he confessed, grabbing the camera from you. now turned back towards you, you gulped, body buzzing and hot at his nasty words. he grabbed your ankles, forcing you closer to him. haechan pushed your legs against your chest, giving him perfect access to your swollen lips. he casts the camcorder downward, ready for the money shot. lining up his tip with your entrance, he pushes in, causing you both to gasp and sigh at the contact. finally bottoming out, his hips reach your thighs, giving you a minute to adjust he started to thrust lightly, making you keen at the feeling of being so full, that, and the wet sounds of your bodies, almost made haechan cum right there on the spot. ‘fuck, you feel so tight baby, you don't know how long i’ve waited for this’ he whimpered, trying to keep himself composed. moaning at his confession you grabbed his arm and brought him down suddenly to kiss you. now in a missionary-esque position, haechan sat the camcorder down on the bed to face you both, sloppy kisses were exchanged, and you both gasped into each other mouths when haechan went deep and hit your sweet spot. moving up to his knees, and grabbing the camcorder, he pulls his hips down harder, drilling into your weeping cunt. you grunted growing incoherent as you babbled about how his dick was so big and for him to keep going, ‘you take me so well pretty girl’ he groaned, zooming in on your fucked out expression, ‘it’s like you were made for me, you're mine baby, all mine’ he breathed, his rhyme becoming sloppy and harder, faster.
you could feel fire start to poll in your lower abdomen, sinking your nails into haechans forearm as he moved circles in your burning clit with his free hand. ‘cum with me baby please’ he begged, ready to release inside of your warm pussy. you tensed feeling the lightning strike as you felt the earth stutter on its axis. groaning loudly, you finally let go, waves of pleasure coarse over your body, walls convulsing griping haechan like a vice. he whimpered above you, stilling his hips as he coated your insides white, curses flew out of his mouth as he made small trusts, loving the feeling of overstimulation. your thighs vibrated and jerked, letting your orgasm die down, haechan pulled out slowly, making you both hiss. he sighed contently, getting up and heading to the bathroom and coming back with a washcloth. he videotaped as his sticky substance dripped from your hole, cleaning you up thoroughly as he continued to zoom in.
‘well… that's a wrap’ he said cheekily and turned off the camera, placing it on his bedside table. you laughed at the comment, moving closer to him as he climbed into bed beside you. heart floating as he pulled you closer, bringing your head to rest on his chest. ‘i think that would win at fucking sundance’ he whispered, making you snort and playfully hit his chest. you both sat in comfortable silence, his fingers ghosting your back, moving up and down.
‘did you mean it? what you said?’ you asked, feeling small in his embrace.
‘what part?’ he ventured, grabbing hold of your shoulder.
‘when you said you had been waiting for this moment, was that real or just for the tape?’ you felt stupid needing clarification. you both had decided to make it overzealous so it would do numbers, he wouldn't think twice to say any of that stuff when money was on the line, or maybe he had meant it and in the heat of the moment confused about what you were also thinking.
‘of course i meant it love, if you can't tell, i’ve been in love with you for a while’ he confessed.
you gasped, head lifting off of his chest to gaze up at him, eyes shown in full sincerity, he went on ‘there's no one else who understands me as you do, you continue to put up with my shit, you're honest when i need it most, but you also support me in everything i do. you spent a week trying to find any companies that would take me on, going as far as to call continually when i never asked you to in the first place’
you groan remembering the hiring manager that had said ‘his resume wasn't good enough’ to which you gave them an earful telling them they would be stupid not to accept him. ‘you laugh at my stupid jokes and you always let me win in league, you are effortlessly beautiful without even trying, even after you have woken up after 15 hours of sleeping, seeing your face walk out of your bedroom door is the best feeling, i get so excited when you come home from work, like i’m a dog waiting for its owner’ you cry as you both sit up, holding each other.
‘haechan… i don't-… you’re my best friend, the person who knows me better than i know myself,’ he wipes small tears pricking from the corners of your eyes, just as they are about to fall ‘you always know when i’m down, you help me with tasks whenever i get frustrated and you never complain, you are my rock and i know i can always rely on you for anything, you’re my home.’ you finished your turn of the confession with a simple, ‘i love you too’
haechan gives you a small kiss, ‘no more crying, we should rest’ moving to turn off the lamp next to him, he puts you in an embrace and lays you down back in your previous position, kissing your hair you let your eyes flutter shut. ‘what if i told you i was a secret billionaire?’ he mumbled.
you squirmed, pretending to be annoyed at his antics, he gripped tighter, trapping you in his warmth, whining ‘please, go to fucking sleep’ you grumbled, finally settling down after a long day of shooting.
you stirred awake as the sunlight from the window hit your eyes, blinking you stretched and sat up, groaning as every muscle seemed to ache after last night. ‘good morning girlfriend’ haechan sang, walking into his room holding a plate of food for you.
‘girlfriend?’ you questioned, grabbing the fake porcelain from him.
he shook his head from side to side ‘mmm well we’re married in my head already, so that’s we can go with for now’
you sighed and nodded, smiling, ‘okay boyfriend, whatever you say’ picking up the bagel you got ready to take a bite when haechan gave you a nervous smile without saying anything, still standing in front of you ‘... what's wrong?’
‘don’t get mad, but hypothetically, what if i told you i forgot to hit record last night’ he cast his eyes downward, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.
you groaned, knowing he was still messing with you, ‘i saw the red light on the camera stupid, you can’t fool me.’ he looked up hearing the crunch from the toasted donut, happily eating away. ‘now come here and massage my back’ he immediately obliged, coming behind you to rub your pain away. ‘and make sure to delete everything before giving the camera to jaemin. please.’
haechan stopped, ‘but he said he wanted to see!!’
you turned around ready to grab him by the neck and not in a good way, ‘HAECHAN’. all he could do was laugh and hug you as tight as he could, never wanting to let go.
‘holy shit babe, come here and look at this’ haechan called from the kitchen, you came buzzing in, eager to see what he had to show you.
‘what is it?’ you mused, glancing down at his phone as he handed it to you.
you gasped, seeing the number of money your videos have made over the past couple of months, ‘that's enough to pay for four months of rent!!’ after a couple of months and making more videos, you started posting them to a private channel online and promoting them in various placing, thus helping you both reach pretty decent number for amateur porn. you even moved into his bedroom and turned your old one into a perfect little studio.
‘i know!!’ he got up from the table and hugged you in celebration, ‘and we owe it all to our first subscriber and top donator… maybe we can ask him to film for us some time’
you dropped your arms and grimaced, ‘jaemin’
it really was the best idea he ever had, and you love him for it.
Warning: Arguments, infidelity, eventual pregnancy (Let me know if I missed something)
AN: I hope you guys like this fic of mine after so long, I worked on this over the last few weeks and I'm genuinely looking forward to each of your reactions and I hope you would all like it warmly, also this will be split into 3 parts. I also want to create this piece to greet Jaehyun a happy birthday, so much has happened throughout my life and him being the light just made everything feel better. Happy Birthday Jaehyun and continue staying safe in the military 💕
The skyline of Seoul didn’t just glow; it loomed—a jagged crown of glass and steel piercing the smog of the world below. From the heights of the Shin-Hwa Tower, the city looked like a circuit board, pulsing with the electricity of billions of won flowing through invisible veins. Here, in the stratosphere of the elite, the air was filtered, pressurized, and stripped of the scent of humanity. It smelled of nothing but cold ozone and the expensive musk of aged paper.
In this world, life was not lived; it was engineered. You were not born a child; you were a capital expenditure. Your first words weren't "eomma" or "appa," but the names of the subsidiaries your family controlled. You were the "Glacier of the North," the heir to an empire, destined to be fused with the "Shark of the South," the heir to a formidable dynasty.
Part I: The Gala of the Damned
The gala was a sea of monochromatic perfection. Men in bespoke tuxedos stood in tight clusters, their eyes scanning the room for higher-status targets. Women in couture gowns moved like predatory swans, their smiles calibrated to the exact degree of warmth required. There was no laughter—only the sharp, rhythmic clinking of ice against crystal and the low hum of voices discussing the shifting tides of the KOSPI index.
You stood by the glass, a portrait of lethal composure in an obsidian gown. Every strand of hair was pinned back with the kind of tension that could snap a bone. Tonight, with shallow deep breaths you look down admiring the people that don’t feel the burden that you feel and could go along smiling their hearts out.
As the dread settles into you, the atmosphere shifts. The temperature seemed to drop as the crowd instinctively parted. Jung Jaehyun had arrived.
He moved with the gravitational pull of a monopoly. You had known his scent—sandalwood, rain, and cold ambition—since you were six, sitting in a soundproofed room while your fathers negotiated shipping lanes and legal loopholes. You hadn't shared toys; you had shared tutors who taught you how to dismantle a man's life before you knew how to ride a bike.
"You're brooding again, Y/N," Jaehyun’s baritone drifted over your shoulder. "It creates wrinkles, and the board prefers their future Matriarch to look... pristine."
You turned slowly, tracing the lethal symmetry of his face—the dimples that acted as traps, the eyes like pools of ink. You spotted the faint smudge of crimson on his collar.
"And you smell like a tabloid scandal, Jaehyun," you replied, your voice a razor-thin blade of ice. "Was it the daughter of the Park Group, or just another starlet looking for a seat at a table she’ll never be invited to?"
Jaehyun sipped his drink, unbothered. "She was a distraction. A biological necessity to dull the boredom of listening to your father talk about tax-haven fluctuations."
"You’re a liability," you hissed, stepping into his space. "We are days away from signing a merger that consolidates the nation’s export laws and infrastructure, and you’re still acting like a feral dog. It’s pathetic—the way you confuse cheap friction with power."
"Power is having the ability to do exactly what I want and still have the world bow," he countered, stepping closer until the cold marble rail bit into your spine. "Don't pretend you're superior because you starve yourself of pleasure. We were both raised in the same cage. I just decided to enjoy the view while you decided to become the bars."
"I am the foundation, Jaehyun," you snapped, pressing a hand against his chest. You felt the steady, infuriatingly calm thrum of his heart. "It’s a miracle your father hasn’t had you neutered for the sake of the stock price."
A dark spark ignited in his eyes. He grabbed your wrist—not painfully, but with the grip of a man who owned everything he touched.
"Is that what you think?" he murmured, leaning down. "That I’m just a boy playing games? I don't do anything without a calculation."
"Then calculate this," you whispered. "Every time you go off with a nameless girl, you insult the contract. And I don’t like it when people mess with my investments. You look desperate for a validation you’ll never get from your father."
Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. "We don't love, Y/N. We acquire. We dominate. You're just jealous that I find a moment of release while you’re busy being a frozen queen."
"I am not jealous of garbage," you spat. "I’m offended by your lack of discipline. You’re a dog off a leash, and I’m the one who has to hold the collar."
"Prove it," he challenged, his voice a rough rasp. "Prove your blood isn't boiling because you’ve spent twenty-three years wondering what it would be like if I looked at you."
The air turned electric. His hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, and his mouth crashed into yours. It wasn't a kiss; it was a claim.
He expected you to melt. He was wrong.
You didn't give in; you used the pressure as leverage. Your hands balled into his hair, gripping as tightly as he held you. You met his tongue with retaliatory ferocity. As he tried to dominate the rhythm, you bit down—hard—on his lower lip.
The copper taste of blood filled your mouth. Jaehyun groaned—a sound of half-pain and dark satisfaction. He surged forward, his hand gripping your waist, pulling you so close your silhouettes became one against the glass.
He pulled back, chest heaving. "Still think I'm just a playboy, Y/N?"
You wiped a smudge of lipstick from your mouth. "I think you're a monster, Jaehyun. But I’ve been training to hunt monsters since the cradle. If you think a few seconds of friction gives you an edge, you’ve miscalculated my spite."
"Fix yourself," you added, your voice returning to a corporate chill. "You look like you’ve been losing a fight. I’ll see you at the altar. Try not to bleed on the silk; it’s more expensive than the girl in the coatroom."
Part II: Till Death Do Us Part
The morning of the Jung-Y/LN merger—colloquially known to the public as the "Wedding of the Century"—dawned with a sky the color of a bruised plum. There was no symbolic sun rising over the horizon to bless the union; there was only the cold, artificial glow of security monitors and the silent, high-speed elevators of the Shilla Hotel’s presidential suites.
In this world, a wedding day wasn't the start of a life together; it was the final audit before the books were closed.
In the Jung suite, Jaehyun opened his eyes. Beside him, Chaeyong Park—daughter of a dying fashion house—stirred. To Jaehyun, she was an amortized service.stirred against the silk sheets. She was beautiful in the way a trophy is beautiful: polished, expensive, and ultimately hollow. To Jaehyun, she wasn't a lover; she was a service he had amortized over the last six months, a biological necessity to dull the edge of his boredom.
"Stay, Jaehyun," she pouted, her voice thick with the desperation of someone who knew her shelf life was expiring. "The ceremony isn't for hours. Let them wait."
Jaehyun sat on the edge of the bed, his back a map of lean muscle and fresh, shallow scratches. He didn't look back at her. His eyes were fixed on the digital clock on the wall, watching the seconds bleed away with a clinical detachment.
"Well, enough with the play," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that held zero warmth. "I have a wedding to attend to."
"You're so cold," she pouted, her eyes filling with the practiced tears of a girl who thought she could negotiate with a shark. "You're marrying that... that ice statue. You won't be happy."
"Happy?" Jaehyun let out a short, mirthless laugh as he stood up, his naked form a masterpiece of ancestral perfection and ruthless gym hours.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling mirror, looking at his reflection with a clinical detachment. "In this world, Chaeyong, 'happiness' is a sign of a weak portfolio. I’m not marrying a woman; I’m marrying a market share. Now, get dressed. The service entrance is open, and my security team has already deposited the 'consultation fee' into your offshore account. Don't make me call them to escort you."
He watched her in the mirror as she scrambled out of bed, her face a mask of wounded pride and desperate greed. He didn't care. He grabbed his bespoke white dress shirt, the fabric so stiff it felt like armor. As he began buttoning it—starting from the bottom, his fingers moving with surgical precision—he watched the playboy vanish. By the time he reached the top button, the man in the mirror was the Crown Prince of the Jung Group, a man whose only god was the bottom line.
In a private villa overlooking the Han River, the atmosphere was even more clinical. You didn't wake up to a sunrise; you woke up to the soft, rhythmic hum of a server rack in the adjacent room. The sheets were a mess of high-thread-count Egyptian cotton, and the air smelled of vanilla and expensive espresso.
Beside you lay Mark Lee, the second son of the Lee Tech Corporation. Unlike his older brother Lee Taeyong, who was being groomed for the CEO chair, Mark was the "spare"—a brilliant, slightly unhinged tech genius who lived in the shadows of the digital world. He was your secret weapon, the man who helped you bypass firewalls and leak the scandals of your rivals. Last night hadn't been an act of love; it was a stress test of a different kind. You had used him to ground yourself, to feel the friction of skin against skin before you entered a life of cold, contractual marble.
Mark shifted, his eyes opening to find you already sitting up, staring at the wedding dress draped over a mannequin in the corner. The dress was a monstrosity of lace and diamonds, a shroud for your girlhood.
"You're remarkably calm for a woman about to be sold to a monster," Mark said, his voice smooth and devoid of the sentimentality that made men weak. He reached out to touch your shoulder, his fingers lingering on the mark Jaehyun had left there nights ago.
"It’s not a sale, Mark. It’s a merger," you replied, your voice a razor-thin blade of ice. You moved away from his touch, standing up and wrapping a silk robe around your frame.
"He’ll kill you, you know," Mark murmured, sitting up and running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Or you’ll kill him. Either way, Lee Tech will be there to buy the scrap metal when you both burn down."
"That’s why you’re the second son, Mark," you said, turning to look at him with a gaze that could freeze a heartbeat. "You think in terms of survival. I think in terms of dominance. Now, get dressed and leave. My stylists will be here in ten minutes, and I don't want to explain why a Lee is in my bed on the day I become a Jung. Our partnership is digital, remember? Let’s keep the physical evidence to a minimum."
Mark didn't argue. He knew the rules. In this echelon, people didn't have friends; they had assets. He gathered his things in silence, leaving through the private elevator. You stood alone in the room, looking at the dress. It was time to put on the mask. It was time to become the Queen.
The Cathedral of the Holy Spirit was a misnomer. It held no spirit; it was a limestone vault designed to house the ego of the nation's wealthiest families. The music began—a heavy, Gregorian chant that sounded more like a funeral dirge than a wedding march. You walked down the aisle, your father’s grip on your arm like a vice. He wasn't walking his daughter to her future; he was delivering a shipment.
At the altar stood Jaehyun. He was terrifyingly beautiful, a dark angel in a bespoke tuxedo. His hair was slicked back, his jawline sharp enough to draw blood, and his eyes... they were voids. When your father handed your hand to his, the temperature seemed to drop. His fingers were cold, his grip possessive and punishing.
As the priest began the Latin incantations—words that meant nothing to people who only spoke the language of dividends—Jaehyun leaned in. He didn't look at the priest; he looked at you, his gaze tracing the lines of your face with a dark, predatory intent.
"You smell like Mark Lee's server room, Y/N," he whispered, his voice so low it was only meant for your ears. "A bit uncalculated for a bride to spend her last night of freedom with the 'spare' of a tech rival, don't you think?"
Your heart hammered against your ribs—a biological glitch you hated—but your face remained a mask of flawless indifference. You tilted your head just a fraction, your lips curving into a smile that didn't reach your eyes.
"And you smell like a desperate mistress and cheap gin, Jaehyun," you hissed back, the venom in your voice matching his own. "I see you couldn't resist one last liquidation sale before the store closed. I hope Chaeyong was worth the discount."
Jaehyun’s grip on your hand tightened, the platinum of your engagement ring biting into your skin. A dark, flicking spark ignited in his eyes—the shark scenting blood.
"The fidelity clause doesn't start until we sign the register, darling," he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles in a way that felt like a threat. "But once it does, I suggest you keep your 'tech support' on a very short leash. I don't like sharing my investments."
"Investments?" you countered, your voice a soft, lethal purr. "Is that what you call me? Careful, Jaehyun. Some investments are designed to crash the market from the inside. If you think this marriage is your takeover, you’ve severely miscalculated the strength of my firewall."
The priest continued, oblivious to the war being waged inches from his nose. "Jung Jaehyun, do you take this woman...?"
Jaehyun looked directly into your eyes, his expression one of pure, unadulterated malice cloaked in the beauty of a god. He didn't look like a groom; he looked like a general accepting a surrender.
"I do," he said, the words echoing through the silent cathedral like a death sentence.
"And do you, Y/N, take this man...?"
You felt the weight of the veil, the weight of the diamonds, and the terrifying, electric pull of the monster standing before you. You hated him. You loathed the very air he breathed. And yet, there was no one else in this world who could match the darkness in your own soul.
"I do," you replied, your voice ringing out like a shot.
The priest joined your hands. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Jaehyun didn't hesitate. He pulled you toward him, his hand sliding to the back of your neck with a violence that made the crowd gasp in what they thought was "passion." His mouth crashed into yours—not with a kiss, but with a declaration of war. It was hard, cold, and tasted of iron and unspoken threats. You didn't pull away; you bit back, your teeth grazing his lip until you felt the faint, metallic tang of blood.
As the cameras flashed, capturing the "Perfect Couple" for the morning headlines, you realized the truth. The world thought this was the union of two empires.
The Grand Ballroom of the Shilla was a cavern of excess, illuminated by crystal chandeliers that hung like frozen tears over the nation's most dangerous assembly. Here, the scent of lilies was suffocating, competing with the smell of truffles and the cold, metallic ozone of the high-security jammer blocking all unauthorized cellular signals. This wasn't a celebration of love; it was a victory parade for a monopoly.
As you moved through the crowd, your hand was clamped firmly in the crook of Jaehyun’s arm. To the guests, his grip looked like the possessive devotion of a new husband. To you, it felt like a shackle.
"Deep breaths, darling," Jaehyun murmured, his lips grazing your temple as he leaned in for the cameras. "Your father is approaching at twelve o’clock. Try to look like you aren’t calculating the exact cost of his funeral."
"I’m calculating the cost of yours, Jaehyun. It’s a much more satisfying figure," you whispered back, your smile remaining perfectly fixed as your father stepped into your path.
"Honestly, seeing you two at the altar... it just felt right," your father said, raising a vintage crystal flute. For once, he wasn't talking about shipping lanes; he was beaming with a genuine, albeit unsettling, pride. "A joint venture of the hearts. Our families have been entwined for years, but this? This is the harmony we always dreamed of."
Jaehyun’s father chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm. "We’ve watched you two grow up competing, bickering, and trying to outdo each other. To see all that fire finally channeled into a single household... it’s a relief. We couldn’t be happier that the Jung and Y/N names are finally one."
Then the mothers moved in, and the air grew even thicker with suffocating affection.
"Oh, Y/N, sweetheart," Jaehyun’s mother cooed, reaching out to squeeze your hand. Her grip was soft, but the diamonds on her fingers felt like cold pebbles against your skin. "Welcome to the family. I’ve always wanted a daughter who understood the weight of our world. I’ve already planned a 'welcome' tea for you with the other wives—they’re all so excited to meet the new Mrs. Jung."
"And Jaehyun," your mother added, resting a hand on his shoulder with a maternal softness that made your skin crawl. "You’ve always been like a son to us, but now it’s official. I’ve already told the kitchen at the estate to keep your favorites stocked. You’re not a guest anymore. You’re home."
Your mother leaned in, her eyes sparkling with a vision of the future. "We were just saying how wonderful it will be to see the two of you carrying on both our legacies. A perfect blend of both houses. We expect a legitimate heir within the next twenty-four months, of course—to truly solidify this beautiful bond we’ve created today."
"Yes," Jaehyun’s mother added with a sugary smile. "A little one to run through the halls of the estate. It’s the natural next step for a union this perfect."
A wave of genuine queasiness rolled through you. Beside you, you felt Jaehyun’s arm go rigid. It wasn't just the mention of a child—it was the way they were smiling at you, as if they had finally successfully trapped two wild animals in a velvet-lined cage. They weren't talking about profit margins; they were talking about permanence.
"We’ll... take it one step at a time, Mother," Jaehyun replied, his voice strained as he forced a polite, robotic smile. "Let’s let the ink dry on the marriage certificate before we start planning the nursery."
"Don't be so modest, Jaehyun!" his father laughed, giving him a hearty, "supportive" slap on the back that nearly made him spill his drink. "You two are the stars of the night. Go on, give the guests what they want. Dance."
As the orchestra began the first waltz, Jaehyun led you to the center of the floor. The crowd fell silent, their eyes gleaming with the predatory curiosity of people waiting for a crash. He pulled you flush against him, his hand splayed across the small of your back, forcing you to move in a rhythm that felt more like a tactical maneuver than a dance.
"Twenty-four months, Y/N," he whispered against your ear as he spun you through a turn. "It seems our parents have already drafted the production schedule for our personal lives. How does it feel to be a breeding asset?"
"I think I’m going to be sick," you whispered back, the first time you had agreed with him all night. "They've turned our lives into a Hallmark movie with a horror twist."
"I’ve never felt more like a prized show pony," Jaehyun growled, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle jumped. "My mother is already trying to 'tea' you into submission, and yours is acting like I’ve been annexed."
"They're thrilled," you bit back, looking into his ink-dark eyes. "They think they’ve finally domesticated us with all this 'family' talk."
"I don't need a legacy to be happy," Jaehyun muttered, his hand moving up to the nape of your neck, his thumb grazing the skin just above your collar. "I need a challenge. And you, my dear monster, are the only thing in this room that doesn't bore me to death."
"Is that why you froze my Swiss accounts ten minutes before the ceremony?" you asked, your voice dropping into a dangerous purr. "A little wedding gift to keep me dependent?"
Jaehyun smirked, a dark, triumphant expression. "It was a legal precaution. Your ties to Mark Lee are a security risk. I’ve rerouted those funds into a joint trust under my primary signature. Consider it your first lesson in Jung family law."
"Then consider this your first lesson in global exports," you whispered, leaning in until your lips nearly brushed his. "I didn't stop Mark from hacking your father’s private server an hour ago. By the time we reach the honeymoon suite, the evidence of your family’s tax evasion will be sitting in an encrypted folder on my desk. You want to play the Law Magnate? Fine. Let’s see how well you litigate from a prison cell."
Jaehyun’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second—the only crack in his perfect facade. His eyes darkened, the "Shark" finally surfacing in full.
"You really are a monster," he murmured, his voice thick with a twisted kind of admiration.
"We’re the same, Jaehyun," you reminded him as the music reached its crescendo. "Now, smile for the cameras. Our parents are watching, and they expect their monsters to be on their best behavior."
The waltz ended, and as the room erupted into polite, hollow applause, you and Jaehyun stood at the center—two predators bound by blood, law, and a mutual desire to destroy the very world that had created them.
Part 3: The Honeymoon
The penthouse didn’t feel like a honeymoon suite; it felt like a gilded vault. The door clicked shut with a heavy, final thud, instantly severing the connection to the gala's echoes, the prying eyes of the board, and the suffocating "blessings" of your parents.
Jaehyun wasted no time. He tore the silk tie from his neck, tossing it onto a mahogany table worth more than a ordinary person’s lifetime earnings. Turning to face you, his eyes were dark and restless, reflecting the jagged neon of the Seoul skyline bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling glass.
"The pre-nup is active," he said, his voice dropping into a low, jagged register. He began unbuttoning his waistcoat with hurried, impatient movements, shedding the skin of the perfect groom. "I don’t care who you spend your nights with, Y/N. Mark Lee, or whoever else provides the 'data' you crave. As long as the press doesn't get a scent, and as long as you’re present for those miserable family dinners, I am not your warden."
You stepped out of your heels, the plush carpet a soft contrast to the cold marble of the bathroom you’d just left. You looked down at the monstrosity of lace and blue diamonds you were still wearing—the gown that felt more like a shroud than a celebration.
"And I don't care about your 'distractions,' Jaehyun. Keep them in the shadows, keep their mouths shut with your family’s legal hush-money, and we won’t have a problem." You smoothed the heavy, intricate fabric of your wedding dress, your voice a razor-thin blade. "This is a merger of empires, not a union of souls. We don't owe each other loyalty; we owe each other results."
"Exactly," Jaehyun murmured. He crossed the room in three long, predatory strides. The space between you vanished as he stepped into your personal circle, the scent of expensive gin and the metallic tang of adrenaline rolling off him in waves. "Transactional. Purely business."
"Then why are you still in my space?" you challenged, chin tilted up. Your gaze fixed on the dried smudge of blood on his lower lip—the mark you had branded him with at the altar.
"Because the adrenaline hasn't worn off," he growled, his hand reaching out to grip your waist, hauling you flush against his chest. The stiff lace of your bodice crinkled between you, a fragile barrier. "And because you're the only person in this city who looks at me and sees exactly what I am. There’s a certain... utility in that."
The tension that had been building since childhood—the decades of competing for the top spot, the insults traded like currency, the raw hatred of two predators forced into a single cage—finally snapped. It wasn't love; it was a chemical reaction. It was the friction of two people realizing they were the only ones who could handle each other’s bite.
You reached up, your fingers digging into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down with a ferocity that matched his own. When his mouth crashed into yours this time, there were no cameras to perform for. This was a hostile takeover of the senses.
He lifted you effortlessly, the heavy train of your wedding gown sweeping the floor as he maneuvered through your shared space and onto the massive, silk-draped bed. The "Ice Queen" and the "Shark" were gone, replaced by something feral. He tasted like cold ambition and unadulterated need. You fought for dominance even in the kiss, biting back until the copper taste of blood returned, grounding you both in the reality of your shared darkness.
He dropped you onto the bed, his weight following you down immediately. His hands were everywhere—unzipping your gown, tracing the lines of your body with a possessive, territorial heat.
"Don't think this changes the terms," you gasped, your breath ragged as his lips found the sensitive skin of your throat, right where the blue diamonds had left a faint indentation.
"The terms are written in ink," Jaehyun whispered against your skin, his voice thick with a hunger that no contract could satisfy. "But tonight... is written in blood. We're the same, Y/N. Exactly the same. And I want to see if you can break me before I break you."
There was no gentleness in the way you moved together. It was a battle, a physical manifestation of the war you had been waging since you were children. Every touch was a demand, every groan a concession of power. You didn't want him to love you; you wanted him to acknowledge your strength. You wanted to feel the raw, unrefined energy of the only person who was dangerous enough to match your soul.
You grabbed at Jaehyun’s hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands with a desperation that had been decades in the making. With a sharp, defiant tug, you ripped at his dress shirt; the sound of silk tearing and several buttons hitting the marble floor like hail was the only music you needed.
Jaehyun didn't flinch at the aggression—he thrived on it. His hands, usually so steady when signing away companies, were frantic as they reached for the back of your dress. He fumbled for a split second with the intricate fastenings before his patience evaporated, his finger tips sliding against the valley of your breast with a searing, proprietary heat that made your breath hitch.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice a gravelly murmur against your ear, the word a caress more than an expletive. He watched you, a predator’s gaze, as he pushed down the delicate fabric of your dress , revealing a white thong with a small bow in the middle that is seemingly innocent and fragile which is a stark contrast to the dark persona you portray. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, a primal gesture that sent a electrifying jolt through you . “You look like a slut underneath all this, huh? And the no bra is such a sight.” he says as he presses two fingers into your clothed core.
You gripped his crotch, fingers fumbling with the intricate clasp of his belt, then the stubborn button of his trousers. The denim stretched taut over the undeniable bulge. “And you, Jung Jaehyun,” you bit out, voice a husky whisper, “are too hard for your own good.” your nails scraped against the fabric, then found the zipper, pulling it down with a deliberate, slow rasp.
“Too hard, am I?” His voice, a low growl now, holds a dangerous edge as retrieves his fingers to pull down his boxers which reveals a long and girthy cock springing up to his stomach. “Is that an invitation, or a warning?” You meet his gaze, a challenge in your own. “Which do you prefer?” He chuckles, a rough, throaty sound that vibrates through your core. “I prefer you wet, begging.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time for that.” He leans closer, his scent insanely filling your senses. “We have a lifetime for that baby.” His fingers, back to teasing your clit, he presses harder, a rhythmic circling that makes your hips instinctively twitch. “Tell me, does this feel good?”
You bite your lip, a desperate attempt to stifle the moan building in your throat. “It’s…not as good as you let into your head.”
“Oh Please darling don’t speak as if you don’t want this” He watches your face, every flicker of emotion, every subtle tremor. His thumb sweeps over the sensitive nub, then dips lower, pushing the flimsy fabric away to lick a stripe at your pussy. “Oh, you’re already dripping, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”
A flush creeps up your neck, a warmth spreading across your chest. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? Does it make you feel… exposed?” He pushed two fingers inside of you, making you feel a fire inside of you. “Because that’s exactly how I want you. Exposed. Vulnerable. Mine.” he says as he looks you straight in the eye.
His words, laced with a dark possessiveness, ignite a spark deep within you, a dangerous thrill. You push your hips towards his fingers that have grown in pace.
“Impatient, are we?” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
“I never said that.” Your voice, surprisingly steady, belies the frantic beat of your heart. “I said I didn’t like you.”
He pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Good. Because ‘like’ is boring. ‘Want’ is much more interesting.” His head moves lower, finding the delicate folds, mouth sucking into your slickness. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.” he says while his breath fans your core.
The friction, the wet heat, the audacious demand in his eyes – it all crashes over you. “I want… you.” The words are out before you can stop them, a raw admission that hangs in the air between you.
A triumphant glint flashes in his eyes. He shifts, his weight pressing you deeper into the plush mattress. “Then let’s give each other what we want.” he rips your thong into half before he positions himself, rubbing his hard length into you before pressing into your entrance.
Your legs part wider, an unspoken invitation. The air thickens, heavy with anticipation, “Your pussy is so tight, probably never had a dick this big before” he taunts before grabbing your leg and putting it onto his shoulders to reach deeper.
Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice thick with triumph, his hips beginning a slow, grinding rhythm that sends jolts of exquisite sensation straight to your core. Each thrust is a declaration, a deep, possessive claim that leaves you breathless. You can feel the stretch, the fullness, the undeniable proof of his words.
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scraping against the warm skin beneath his shirt, a desperate anchor in the storm of pleasure he’s unleashing. Your head lolls back, a guttural moan finally escaping, raw and untamed. “Jaehyun…” His name is a ragged plea, a surrender you hadn’t anticipated.
He watches your face, the flush, the desperate arch of your back, the way your lips part to let out another choked sound. A wicked smile plays on his lips, a testament to his power over you. “Say it, Y/N,” he demands, his voice a dark caress as he pulls out almost completely, only to plunge back in with a powerful thrust that steals the air from your lungs. “Say you’ve never felt anything like this.”
Before he knows it you grab at him to put him in his place, you clenched around him, a vise-like grip that made him momentarily freeze. He barely had time to register the shift before you were pushing back, a sudden surge of strength rippling through your core. Your hands, still digging into his shoulders, now pressed down, leveraging your weight, and with a powerful, almost violent heave, you bucked your hips, twisting and arching, until you were the one straddling him.
He lay back, stunned, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a dangerous glint of amusement. “Who’s the slut now, Jaehyun?” you bit out, your voice a husky snarl, mirroring his earlier taunt. Your hips began to move, a slow, deliberate grind that made him groan, his head arching back against the pillows. You looked down at him, a predatory gleam in your eyes, reveling in the sudden vulnerability etched on his face.
“Never had a pussy like this before?” you purred, leaning down, your breath hot against his ear, using his own words against him. You watched his pupils dilate, the flush rise on his neck, and a fierce, intoxicating triumph swelled in your chest. “Can’t handle it now can you?.”
You took control of the rhythm, each thrust a declaration, a possessive claim. You rode him hard, fast, then slow and deep, drawing out his moans, watching the muscles in his jaw clench. His hands, which had been gripping your waist, now rose to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat, an unspoken surrender.
“You like this, don’t you?” you whispered, your voice laced with a dark satisfaction as you leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. “Being taken. Being ridden.” You felt his body tense beneath you, a tremor running through him. “Tell me, Jaehyun. Does this feel good?” You pushed down again, hard, eliciting a ragged groan from deep within his chest.
You felt him rub at your clit, catching you off guard. A sharp gasp tore from your throat, a purely involuntary sound that surprised even you. Your hips, which had been driving with such deliberate, almost cruel power, hitched for a fraction of a second. The unexpected friction, the sudden, direct assault on your most sensitive point, sent a jolt straight through your core, stealing the air from your lungs.
Your eyes, previously narrowed in a predatory gaze, widened just slightly, a flicker of raw pleasure warring with your carefully constructed dominance. He had dared. He had responded not just with a groan, but with a touch.
A slow, dangerous smile curved your lips, a new kind of heat igniting in your eyes, you breathed, the word a silken threat, a promise. Your voice dropped, becoming even deeper, more resonant, a low hum against his ear. "Fuck you, Jeong Jaehyun."
You rode him relentlessly, each thrust a desperate attempt to reclaim control, to push him over the edge before he could truly break you. His fingers on your clit were a relentless torment and a divine pleasure, dragging you closer and closer to an impossible precipice. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob tearing from your throat as your body seized, every muscle locking as the world exploded around you in a blinding flash of white-hot sensation. A guttural cry ripped from your lungs, your hips arching high, then collapsing back onto him, spent and shaking, your entire being dissolving into quivering aftershocks.
That was his cue. In the aftermath of your shattering release, before you could even fully process the seismic shift in your body, Jaehyun moved. Quick and decisive, he bucked, rolling you beneath him in one fluid motion. His weight settled on you, heavy and possessive, pinning you to the bed, your legs still tangled with his. His own body shuddered, a deep, primal groan rumbling through his chest as he buried himself one last, agonizing time, his own release tearing through him with a ferocity that matched yours.
He pressed his forehead against yours, both of you panting, slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and triumph. His eyes, dark and knowing, held yours captive. A slow, utterly devastating smile spread across his lips, and he chuckled, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through your bones.
"You really thought you had me, didn't you?" he rasped, his voice still thick with the remnants of his climax. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering, a glint of pure, unadulterated victory in their depths. "You can never beat me in a game I started, darling. Not when I know exactly how to play you."
Part 4: The Ceasefire Ground
Three years had passed since the ink dried on the merger of your families, and the "production schedule" set by your parents had been met with clinical precision. You had given birth to Yuna—a girl with Jaehyun’s sharp, dark eyes and a spirit that already refused to be quieted like yours.
She was the only thing in this glass-and-steel world that wasn't a calculation. To the public, she was the future of the conglomerate; to your parents, she was the ultimate bridge between two empires. But to you and Jaehyun, she was the only human reality left. Despite the hollow silence that lingered in the hallways of your home, her room was a neutral zone—the one place where the masks finally slipped.
But the marriage itself? It remained a beautifully decorated corpse.
"She’s finally out," you said, stepping into the dimly lit study. You looked tired, the silk of your robe catching the moonlight as you leaned against the doorframe. You found Jaehyun exactly where you expected: at his desk, a glass of amber liquid in one hand and his phone in the other.
Jaehyun finally looked up, setting the glass down with a heavy thud. "The nanny mentioned she was restless today. Something about a drawing she wanted to show you?"
"She was," you said, your voice softening for a fleeting second. "She tried to sketch the garden. She’s getting better with her colors. She actually asked if you’d take her to see the koi pond this weekend."
Jaehyun’s expression shifted, a rare, genuine warmth flickering in his eyes. "I’ll clear my Saturday morning. She’s been obsessed with those fish lately." He paused, the momentary peace between you stretching thin. "She’s growing up, Y/N. She’s starting to ask why we don't eat dinner together more often."
"Then maybe you should give her fewer reasons to wonder," you said, the amicable tone vanishing as you tossed a folder onto his desk. "Mark found the digital trail. You’re getting sloppy, Jaehyun. If the media gets a hold of these hotel logs, it won't just be a scandal—it’ll be a mess our parents will use to exert even more control over her life."
Jaehyun’s gaze sharpened, the defensive wall sliding back into place. "I’m careful."
"Not careful enough," you countered, your voice a low, steady hum. "Replacing Rose with Eunha was one thing, but people in your office aren't blind. If they start whispering about the boss and his secretary, the rumors will eventually reach a classroom. Keep your distractions in the shadows. I don't care who you spend your nights with, but don't let it bleed into the world where Yuna has to grow up."
Jaehyun stood up, closing the distance between you until the scent of his cologne—sharp and expensive—filled your space. "And I suppose those 'consultations' you’ve been having at Mark’s apartment are strictly about business? I saw the car pull in at 3:00 AM yesterday. You still smell like his tobacco."
The silence that followed was heavy, pressurized by the mutual understanding that you were both failing at fidelity, yet succeeding at secrecy.
"We had a deal," he reminded you, looking down at you with an intensity that hadn't faded since your wedding night. "We can destroy each other, Y/N. We can burn this whole house down. But Yuna stays out of the fire. That is the only promise I actually intend to keep."
"Then act like it," you whispered, reaching up to straighten his collar. The gesture looked intimate from a distance, but your touch was a warning. "Because if a single headline touches her, I will use everything I have to bury the Jung name. I don't care about the family legacy, Jaehyun. I care about her."
Jaehyun grabbed your wrist, his grip possessive, pulling you flush against him. The old, familiar friction ignited instantly—the same dark chemistry that always seemed to surface when you were at each other's throats.
"Always so protective," he murmured, his lips grazing your temple. "You can't stand the sight of me, you’re looking for an escape in another man’s bed, and yet here you are, playing the devoted mother to a child born of a contract."
"I’m not playing, Jaehyun. I protect what matters," you bit back, though you didn't pull away from his heat. "And Yuna is the only thing in this world I truly claim as my own. Not the company. Not this marriage. And certainly not you."
Jaehyun looked at you, a twisted kind of admiration glinting in his dark eyes. "Good. Let's keep it that way. Partners in public, strangers in private, and a united front for the girl. As long as the world sees a family, we can keep our private wars."
The same calculated mornings happened every single time. Before the glass towers of Seoul demanded your souls, there was a brief, fragile window of time where you and Jaehyun tried your best to be amicable. You would sit at the breakfast table, the clinking of silver against porcelain the only sound until Yuna ran into the room. For those sixty minutes, the both of you called a ceasefire, bonding with her over pancakes and cartoons before heading to your respective offices to continue your own lives.
By 10:00 AM, the domestic facade was a distant memory. You sat in your executive suite, staring at a trade report you hadn't moved past in twenty minutes. Karina, your secretary and the only person allowed to see the woman behind the title, walked in and set a cup of double-shot espresso on your desk. She didn't check your schedule; she checked your pulse.
"You’re staring at the wall again, Y/N," Karina said softly, leaning against the mahogany desk. "And you look... miserable. Not 'corporate-tired,' but soul-tired."
You leaned back, the leather of your chair creaking in the silent room. "It’s getting harder to breathe in that house, Karina. Every morning is a performance. We smile for Yuna, we pretend we aren't strangers, and then we come here to build empires that will eventually belong to a girl who deserves more than a transactional family."
Karina reached out, giving your hand a brief, firm squeeze. "You aren't a robot, no matter what your father told you. If you keep this up, you're going to break." you smile at her weakly before proceeding to go through the papers in your desk.
Across the city at Jung Law, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of tension. Jaehyun sat in his office, watching his secretary, Eunha, arrange his afternoon briefs. She was young, bright, and far more appreciative of his attention than the wife who knew all his sins.
"Is that all for the morning, Mr. Jung?" Eunha asked, lingering by his side as she adjusted a stack of documents.
Jaehyun smirked, the predatory glint returning to his eyes as he leaned back. "For now. But I find myself quite bored with these depositions, Eunha." He reached out, his fingers grazing her wrist as she handed him a pen. "Remind me why I work so hard when I could be... enjoying the fringe benefits of my position?" he says while eyeing her out.
Eunha blushed, a sharp contrast to the cold, lethal glares he received at home. To Jaehyun, this wasn't about love; it was about maintenance—a way to feel a flicker of heat in a life that felt like a permanent frost.
Later that afternoon, Yeji barged into your private lounge, bypassing security with the practiced ease of a woman who owned half the city. She took one look at you and dropped a bag of greasy fries and a bottle of vintage red on the table.
"I saw the photos from the charity gala," Yeji said, pulling you into a sudden, fierce hug. "Your 'Ice Queen' mask is cracking, Y/N. You look like you're drowning in your own diamonds."
You leaned into her, finally letting your shoulders drop. "Its just the sorrows of life is kind of getting on me these days y’know”
Yeji poured two glasses, her expression softening. "And the 'side projects'? Are you still seeing Mark?"
"When the silence gets too loud," you admitted, staring at the deep red liquid. "It’s not about love. It’s about feeling like I’m still a person. Jaehyun has his distractions too. We’ve stopped counting the buttons he loses in other women's apartments."
Yeji sighed, leaning back. "God, you guys are a mess. You know, Hyunjin and I... it’s not perfect. He’s dramatic, and he spends more on art than I do on logistics, but at least we fight. Like, real fights where things get broken and then we make up. You and Jaehyun are just... frozen."
"I’d take a screaming match over this polite frost any day," you murmured.
"Look," Yeji said, nudging your arm. "The girls are going to The Abyss tonight. No husbands, no board members, just high-end tequila and a bassline loud enough to make you forget your last name. Come with us. You need to scream-sing some lyrics and dance until your feet hurt."
You looked at the clock on your desk. 5:30 PM. "I can't, Yeji. I have to be home."
"The nannies have it covered, Y/N. One night won't kill."
"It’s not that y’know," you said, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. "It’s 6:00 PM dinner. Yuna expects me to tell her about the 'giants' I fought at work today. If I’m not there to tuck her in, she won't sleep. And honestly? Neither will I."
Yeji watched you for a moment, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and admiration. "You really love that kid, don't you?"
"She’s the only thing in my life that is real right now," you said, standing up and grabbing your blazer. "I'll take a raincheck on the club. I’ll see you girls sometime soon." you say as you go down to the parking lot with her and she doesn’t press for anything more than a faint goodbye and a kiss into your cheek.
The drive home was a blur of neon lights and city traffic, but the moment you stepped through the heavy oak doors of the estate, the corporate chill vanished, you headed straight for the play area.
"Eomma!"
Yuna came barreling toward you, a whirlwind of messy pigtails and sheer joy. You dropped to your knees, catching her in your arms and pulling her into a tight, desperate hug. She smelled like baby shampoo and crayon wax—the only scent in the world that could clear the unease of the office from your lungs.
As she buried her face in your neck, giggling about a drawing she’d made, you felt the tension in your spine finally snap. You closed your eyes, holding her a little tighter. In this world of hostile takeovers , Yuna was the only person who loved you unconditionally. She didn't care about your stock price or your reputation. To her, you were just Mom.
The kitchen of the estate, usually a sterile gallery of marble and stainless steel, was the only place that felt alive. You had pushed up the sleeves of your silk blouse, helping Yuna "season" the pasta. She was covered in flour, her small face scrunched in concentration as she mimicked your movements.
"Is the giant gone, Eomma?" she asked, stirring a wooden spoon.
"Defeated," you smiled, kissing the top of her head. "I chased them all back to their offices so I could come home to you."
The heavy front door groaned open, and a moment later, Jaehyun appeared. He looked every bit exhausted, but the second he saw Yuna, the sharp lines of his face softened. He didn't even look at you as he dropped his briefcase and scooped her up into the air.
"There’s my princess," he rasped, his voice warm and resonant. He spun her around, her giggles echoing off the high ceilings. He became a soft father, sitting on the floor in his tailored trousers, helping her build a lopsided tower of blocks. Watching him, it was easy to forget the coldness in his eyes when he looked at you. He was a good father—perhaps the only role he took seriously—but as a husband, he was a ghost.
The dining room was a sprawling expanse of cold marble, but tonight, the small circle of light over the dinner table made it feel almost intimate. You had traded the stiff blazer for a soft cardigan, and Jaehyun had ditched his tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Between you sat Yuna, kicking her legs as she navigated a plate of pasta.
"Eomma? Appa?" Yuna asked, her voice small but curious as she looked between the two of you. "Why do you work so much? Is the office more fun than home?"
The question hung in the air, a sharp contrast to the rehearsed answers you gave the board members. You looked at Jaehyun, but for once, Jaehyun seemed to have no closing argument.
"It’s not more fun, princess," Jaehyun said, his voice surprisingly soft as he reached over to wipe a stray bit of sauce from her chin. "We work so we can build a big world for you. So you never have to worry about anything."
"But you’re always fighting the giants," Yuna murmured, looking at you. "Do the giants ever say sorry?"
"Sometimes," you lied, offering a tight smile. "But mostly, we just have to be stronger than them."
The conversation felt like walking on thin ice—polite, careful, and desperately focused on the child. As you reached for a glass of water, your mind drifted to the encryption codes Mark had sent earlier. Your fingers slipped. The crystal glass hit the edge of the table and shattered, a sharp fragment catching the side of your palm.
"Darn it," you hissed, pulling your hand back as a thin line of crimson bloomed across your skin.
Yuna’s eyes went wide. "Eomma! You have a boo-boo!"
"It’s okay, Yuna. It’s just a little scratch," you said, reaching for a napkin, but the girl was already scrambling out of her chair.
She turned to Jaehyun with frantic urgency. "Appa! You have to kiss it! Eomma says that whenever I have a boo-boo, a kiss makes it feel better. Quickly!"
The silence that followed was deafening. You froze, your hand wrapped in the white linen, looking up to find Jaehyun staring at you. The air in the room suddenly felt pressurized, trapped by the innocent logic of a three-year-old.
Jaehyun cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to your hand. "Yuna, I think a bandage—"
"No! A kiss!" she insisted, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. "It works for me! You have to save her, Appa!"
Jaehyun looked at you, a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps a ghost of the chemistry that had once been fueled. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reached out and took your hand. His skin was warm, a startling contrast to the clinical distance he usually maintained.
You held your breath as he pulled your hand toward him. He didn't look at your face; he focused entirely on the shallow cut. He leaned down, and for a split second, you felt the ghost of his warm breath against your palm before his lips brushed the skin just beside the wound.
It was a soft, lingering contact that felt like a short circuit to your entire system. The world of contracts and tax havens vanished. For one agonizingly awkward second, you weren't business partners; you were a man and a woman who had once been one against the glass of a penthouse.
"Better?" Jaehyun murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to settle in your bones. He didn't let go of your hand immediately.
"Better," you whispered, your voice catching.
"See!" Yuna cheered, clapping her hands and returning to her seat, completely oblivious to the electric current of discomfort and history crackling between her parents. "Appa saved you!"
"I... I’m heading out tonight. The guys are inviting me to the bar," he said abruptly, his voice regaining that clipped, professional distance.
Yuna’s head whipped toward him, her fork hovering in mid-air. "Appa? Where are you going? You just saved Eomma!"
Jaehyun paused, his expression softening just enough to look at his daughter. He couldn't quite bring himself to ignore her pout. "I'll tell you what, princess. I’ll stay until you’re tucked in and fast asleep. But then Appa has to go handle some... business." he feels guilty because deep inside despite the initial excuse of seeing the guys which is what he will eventually do but a certain someone in the form of Eunha will also be there.
"Is it to fight more giants?" she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Something like that," he murmured, avoiding your gaze.
True to his word, Jaehyun spent the next hour in the nursery. You watched from the hallway as the loving dad that sat on the edge of a toddler-sized bed, reading a story about a dragon with more patience than he ever showed a legal brief. He was a good father—it was the only thing about him that still felt human. But the moment Yuna’s breathing evened out and her eyes drifted shut, the warmth vanished.
He stepped into the hall, already reaching for his cufflinks. "I’m leaving now."
"Don't stay out late," you said, leaning against the doorframe, your hand still tingling where his lips had touched. "Tomorrow is Yuna’s first day of nursery school. We’re supposed to take her together at 8:00 AM. It’s a milestone, Jaehyun. Don't be the father who misses it for a hangover."
Jaehyun stopped at the threshold, his back to you. "I know the schedule, Y/N. I’ll be there."
He retreated to your bedroom, the sound of the shower soon hissing behind closed doors. He stood under the scalding water, trying to wash off the scent of flour and domesticity, trying to reset his mind for the night ahead. When he stepped out to check on Yuna, wrapped in a robe, he paused in the doorway of the room.
From his vantage point, he could see you through the reflection of the hallway mirror. You were still standing by Yuna’s door, looking down at your bandaged hand with an expression of quiet, weary longing. He watched you for a heartbeat longer than necessary—observing the way the light hit you when she thought no one was looking—before he hardened his gaze, turned away, and began to dress.
The estate’s door clicked shut a few minutes later. In the basement, the roar of his black Lamborghini echoed against the concrete as he fired the engine. He drove away from the estate with a reckless speed, the city lights blurring into long, jagged lines of neon. He needed the wind, the noise, and the distance from the "perfect family" life that felt like it was slowly suffocating him.
Part 5: The cracks behind the facade
When he arrived at The Abyss, the bass was a physical pulse. He bypassed the line and headed straight for the VIP booth where Taeyong, Yuta, and Johnny were already settled.
"Look who finally decided to join the living," Yuta called out, raising a glass.
Hey, guys," Jaehyun said, sliding into the leather seat with a heavy sigh. He traded quick greetings—a handshake with Johnny, a nod to Taeyong—before the mask fully settled.
"You’re late, Jae," Johnny noted, leaning over the music. "What kept you? Another late-night business?"
"Something like that," Jaehyun replied, tossing back a shot of vodka. "Actually, Yuna wouldn't let me leave until I finished a story about a dragon. I think I’ve read it four times this week."
"You’re a lucky bastard," Johnny said, chuckling. "Is she already speaking three languages?"
Jaehyun’s expression shifted instantly. The cold, distant facade vanished, replaced by a genuine, boyish warmth. He pulled out his phone, scrolling past dozens of unread legal alerts to find a video of Yuna.
"Actually, she’s started correcting my pronunciation in French," Jaehyun said, a proud, half-amused smirk playing on his lips. He showed the screen to the guys, his eyes softening as he watched the recording of her running through the estate’s garden. "She’s growing too fast. Last month she barely reached my knee; now she’s trying to negotiate her own bedtime like a little defense attorney."
"She’s got your eyes, man," Yuta noted, leaning in. "But she definitely has Y/N’s attitude. That little finger-point she does? Just shows how Y/N bosses people around.”
Jaehyun let out a quiet, genuine chuckle. "She really does. She told me this morning that my tie was ‘unacceptable’ for breakfast. I actually ended up changing it because I didn't want to lose the argument to a three-year-old."
"See? That’s what I’m talking about," Taeyong said, seizing the opening. "You coo over her like she’s the center of the universe—because she is. You’re a great dad, Jae. Truly. But you’re being a shitty husband. Y/N is the one raising that brilliant kid with you. You’re here at the club while she’s holding down the fort. You should spend some time with the family you actually built, not just the one on the brochures."
Jaehyun’s smile flickered and died. He put the phone face down. "It’s not that simple, Taeyong. Y/N and I... we’re a merger. Not a romance. Yuna is the only part of that house that isn't made ice."
"Then don't let the ice win," Taeyong countered.
But before the advice could sink in, a shadow fell over the table. It was Eunha, wearing a dress that was little more than a suggestion of silk. The reminder of the 8:00 AM nursery school morning flickered in his mind like a dying spark.
"Mr. Jung," Eunha whispered as she slid into the booth beside him, her hand resting daringly on his thigh. "I didn't think you'd come tonight."
Jaehyun didn't pull away. He wanted the friction of someone who didn't know his tax records. He wanted to drown out the guilt of the "good father" with the thrill of being a bad man.
"I needed a distraction," he murmured.
The bass of The Abyss was still thrumming in Jaehyun’s veins as he led Eunha into the penthouse suite of a discreet Gangnam hotel. The door had barely clicked shut before he had her pinned against the heavy wood. This wasn't the measured, tactical passion of the Shin-Hwa elite; it was messy, desperate, and fueled by premium vodka.
He kissed her with a reckless hunger, his hands tangling in her hair as he sought to drown out the image of the dinner table and the "boo-boo" he had kissed just hours before. Eunha’s hands were everywhere, pulling at his blazer, her laughter lost against his mouth. In the heat of the dimly lit room, Jaehyun wasn't a father or a Law Magnate; he was a man running from a life that felt like a death sentence. They stumbled toward the bed, the "United Front" he was supposed to maintain with you shattering with every discarded piece of clothing.
The next morning, the sun didn't rise; it attacked.
A shard of light pierced through a gap in the blackout curtains, hitting Jaehyun directly in the eyes. He groaned, a rhythmic, pounding headache thudding against his skull like a hammer. The air in the hotel room smelled of stale perfume and expensive gin—a sharp, sickening contrast to the scent of baby shampoo he had grown used to.
He reached blindly for the nightstand, his hand brushing against a glass of water before finding his phone. The device was vibrating so violently it was nearly vibrating off the edge.
He squinted at the screen, and his heart plummeted into his stomach.
10:14 AM.
Beneath the time, the notifications were a digital landslide. 47 Missed Calls: Y/N. There were dozens of texts, starting from 7:30 AM with "Where are you?" and ending at 9:00 AM with a single, freezing line: "Don't bother coming home."
Realization hit him like a physical blow. The nursery school. Yuna’s first day. The 8:00 AM milestone he had promised, on his daughter's life, not to miss. He had left you standing there alone with a three-year-old in a new uniform, clutching a backpack and looking for a father who was currently waking up in a hotel bed with his secretary.
Speaking of which, his work phone began to chime. It was the firm’s lead partner. Since Eunha—his secretary—was currently tangled in the sheets beside him, neither of them had been there to open the office or manage the morning’s depositions. The "Shark" had missed his hunt, and worse, he had missed his daughter's most important morning.
Jaehyun sat up, his head spinning as he buried his face in his hands. The silence of the hotel room felt deafening. He had traded a milestone for a distraction, and for the first time in his life, the Law Magnate had no defense.
The estate was silent when Jaehyun finally pushed the heavy doors open. The air inside didn't smell like the expensive hotel or the stale gin he was currently sweating out; it smelled like the familiar, homey scent of breakfast that had gone cold hours ago.
He expected to see you standing in the foyer like an executioner, ready to serve him with the legal equivalent of a death warrant. But you weren't there.
Instead, he heard a sound that cut through his hangover sharper than any shard of glass. It was a high, jagged sob coming from the living room.
Jaehyun rounded the corner and stopped dead. Yuna was sitting on the floor, still wearing her tiny, crisp school uniform. Her backpack—the one with the little charms she’d picked out so excitedly—was tossed aside like trash. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face a mess of tears and heartbreak. You were sitting on the floor beside her, holding her hand, your face a mask of absolute, frozen stone.
"Princess?" Jaehyun’s voice cracked, sounding like sandpaper.
Yuna looked up. The moment she saw him, her small face didn't light up with the usual joy. It twisted into something much more painful. She didn't run to him. She stayed tucked against your side.
"You're a liar!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "You said you'd hold my hand! You said the giants wouldn't get me at school if you were there!"
"Yuna, I... I got caught up in business. I'm so sorry—"
"I don't care!" she sobbed, burying her face in your shoulder. "I waited and waited. Eomma said we had to go, but I told her you were coming. I told her Appa never breaks promises." She looked at him one last time, her eyes filled with a level of disappointment no three-year-old should know. "I hate you, Appa! Go away!"
The words hit Jaehyun like a physical blow to the chest. It was a cold shower of reality. He stood there in his rumpled suit, smelling of another woman, watching his daughter—the only thing he actually loved—look at him with genuine loathing.
You finally looked up at him. Your eyes didn't hold the usual fire. They were just dead.
"She refused to go without you," you said, your voice a terrifyingly calm whisper. "She cried at the door for two hours until she finally fell asleep on the rug. She missed her first day, Jaehyun. because her father chose to do things with god knows who."
You stood up, picking Yuna up in your arms. She clung to you, hiding her face from him as if he were a stranger.
"Get out of my sight," you said, walking past him toward the nursery. "Go back to whatever was more important than her." you say with a shrug.
Jaehyun stood alone in the center of the vast, empty living room, the silence of the room closing in on him. For the first time, the gilded cage didn't feel like a prison—it felt like a grave.
He moved to the sofa to think, dropping into the leather as the heavy silence began to be too much. In the distance, the rhythmic sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the hallway—the soft, final click of Yuna’s nursery door followed by the sharp, familiar cadence of your footsteps.
He sat in the dark, his head resting in his hands, staring at the expensive rug beneath him. The weight of Yuna’s "I hate you" felt like a lead shroud. He looked up as you finally entered the living room after making sure that Yuna was already sound asleep again after being tired from her cries. You didn't look angry; you looked exhausted, which was infinitely worse. You went straight to the sideboard, pouring yourself a glass of water with hands that trembled only slightly.
"I am sorry," he said, his voice a low, jagged rasp that held a rare note of genuine longing—a desperate wish to undo the last twelve hours. "I lost track of—"
"Don't," you cut him off, your voice as sharp as a guillotine yet brittle around the edges. "Don't you ever dare say that word, after the fact that you didn’t even consider Yuna’s feelings, she was crying Jae in a uniform that’s now stained with tears.
Jaehyun stood up, the frustration of his own guilt bubbling into a defensive heat. "I made a mistake. A massive one. But don't act like this house is a sanctuary of virtue, Y/N."
"This isn't about virtue, and it's certainly not about our pathetic excuse for a marriage," you hissed, stepping into his space until the scent of his cologne—mixed with the faint, lingering trail of the club—made your stomach turn. " Unlike you the one thing I have never done is let my personal indulgences cost Yuna her peace."
Jaehyun’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a defensive fire. "You show up? That’s rich. How many 'data consultations' have you had with Mark Lee lately? I know you still see him. Don't stand there and play the innocent martyr when your hands are just as dirty as mine."
You let out a harsh, cold laugh that lacked any real humor. "Is that really your best shot, Jaehyun? Comparing a lingering ghost of a past to what you did today?"
You stepped closer, poking a finger hard into his chest, your voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibration. "I see Mark. Yes. But I don't crave him the way you crave your distractions. I don't prioritize the heat of a hotel room over my daughter’s milestones. If Yuna needed me to never see him again, I would burn that bridge in a heartbeat. I could end it tonight and never look back, because she is my priority. She is the only thing that matters."
Your eyes burned into his, shimmering with a sudden, raw ferocity. "I can walk away from anyone. Can you say the same? Or are you so weak that you’ll let your boredom destroy the only person who actually loves you?"
Jaehyun flinched as if you’d slapped him. The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with the realization that while you were both broken, only one of you was holding the pieces together for the child.
"She asked me why you didn't come," you whispered, your voice finally cracking with the sadness you'd been hiding. "And for the first time, I didn't have a lie ready for her. I just had to watch her realize that her hero is just a man who couldn't be bothered to show up."
The air in the living room turned stagnant, the weight of your words settling into the expensive upholstery like a physical stain. For years, you had played this game of professional distance, but tonight, the rules had changed. The silence that followed wasn't the usual polite frost; it was the sound of something structural finally snapping.
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, abuse, stepcest, misogyny, the patriarchy is deeply embedded within the story, religious themes here and there, dialogues regarding childbirth and pregnancy
summary ↠ in a world where your body belongs more to your future husband than it ever will to you, it makes sense that your brother, by law or by birthright, owns you too. when your father died, you were convinced that was the worst thing that could ever happen to you. you hadn’t met haechan yet.
wc ↠ 30k (my biggest fic ever)
a/n ↠ revehae’s disbandment fic… if it’s not already obvious, my beliefs do not align with the beliefs frequently portrayed in this story. it is not my intention to romantize any abuse or toxic behavior you may read. also, i had to compact some lines to meet the tumblr block limit (about 40 of them), so if some things read weirdly or a block of text seems huge, i apologize. as always, feedback is appreciated!
don’t like it, don’t read.
night had settled and naturally your body had begun to loosen with the need for rest, your eyelids getting heavy.
every now and then, you would hear a cacophony of boisterous laughs from downstairs just moments before you could slip away completely. at the threshold of sleep, but constantly interrupted. with an exasperated sigh, you resigned yourself to watching television for a while, at least until the boys wore themselves out for the night. but every time you had to turn the volume up another notch, you felt your irritation ramping.
deciding you were at your breaking point, you stuffed your feet into your house slippers and marched down the stairs straight into the living room, huffing, “can you guys please be a little quieter? i’ve been trying to sleep for an hour.”
your stepbrother, haechan, and his three partners in crime, jeno, jaemin, and mark, all glanced at you. there was a lull of silence before they each burst into laughter. “my sweet sister,” haechan said, setting his cup on the coffee table and standing up from where he’d been seated with the others. “what did i tell you about making demands?”
you stiffened. you hadn’t meant to come off that way, but could he blame you for being cranky? sue you for wanting to get some sleep. preferably before the night was over with. “i’m not trying to make demands,” you replied, your tone shifting to something gentler. “i was just asking for a favor.”
“we owe you favors?” haechan asked, the question clearly not meant to be answered. you shuddered when his hand met the small of your back. he cocked his head towards the kitchen. “let’s have a chat.”
your feet carried you there on their own accord when your mind failed you.
“now,” haechan started, shaking his head in dissatisfaction, and sucked his teeth. “that little stunt aside, what did i tell you about coming out when my friends are around?”
“not to do it,” you murmured.
“that’s right,” haechan sang, his hands gentle around your body and his own throbbing with warmth, but his touch still made you freeze. “that could have been a phone call and i might have been more inclined to be nice. but you disobeyed me. you’ve been doing that a lot, sweetheart. so now you’re gonna have to learn why it’s important to listen to me.”
your brows furrowed, and you were desperate to know what he meant by that. you knew him well enough to recognize when you were on the verge of being disciplined. your stepbrothers punishments had been unpleasant, at the very least.
haechan grinned at the obvious look of dread on your face and the stiffness in your posture, and called out to the boys. when they entered the kitchen with mischievous smiles on their lips, each more so than the last, he leaned into you and whispered, “each of my friends has had a little too much to drink tonight, and when men drink, well, let’s just say it makes us do things we wouldn’t normally do.”
you knew he wasn’t saying that to give you a reminder of the effects alcohol had on human inhibition; he was telling you to warn you about what was going to happen any moment now. your eyes widened. “haechan, no, please,” you begged, suddenly wide awake. you frantically hid behind him, panicked.
haechan snickered. they all did. “ah, ah, ah,” he sang, grabbing a hold of you and not only pushing you in front of him, but sending you stumbling into the arms of his friends. “you don’t get to hide now when you weren’t supposed to come out in the first fucking place.”
you had never felt so many hands on your body at once. your torso twisted and turned, shrinking into itself in hopes of recoiling away from every touch, but it was a pointless endeavor. “your little sister is so pretty, haechan,” said mark. “she’s so squirmy,” teased jaemin. “look at her trying to get away,” noted jeno. they all laughed.
“please, stop,” you pleaded, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “haechan, please, make them stop!”
haechan shook his head, and as far as you could tell, his eyes had been approving. “sorry,” he apologized without a hint of sincerity. “but you have to learn.”
fingers slithered up your thigh. “where you going, baby?”
there were a set of hands cupping your supple breasts, another groping your ass, and one more slipping underneath the band of your sleep shorts. you couldn’t tell which was which; your mind was trapped in a panic, and they were all the same. “shh,” jaemin crooned, palming your hair almost with tenderness. “we’re just having a little fun. no doubt haechan would throw a fit if we actually tried to depurify his innocent little sister.”
by the end of the night, you realized jaemin had been right. the three of them touched you and mauled you, but haechan didn’t let them do anything more. apparently, he was just teaching you a lesson. not that that had made it any better. haechan had been watching his friends fondle you for minutes on end, doing nothing in spite of your pleas. the moment he finally decided he’d seen enough and told them to release you, you’d sprinted back upstairs and locked yourself in your room like you should have done from the beginning.
your resentment deepened. never had you quite loved this strange family your mother had married into. your stepfather was a tall, stout businessman who was the chief executive of a technology powerhouse, which sounded awe-inducing out loud, but you always found him painfully arrogant and entitled. as the saying goes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and haechan was no different.
the worst part was that your mother made you serve him. made you fix his dinner when he was hungry, wash his clothes when they were dirty, clean up behind him and his friends. it was infuriating, because he had maids for that purpose, but insisted on having you do it for some peculiar reason. your mother agreed with him; she thought it was important you learned how to take care of a man.
when your father died, you were convinced that was the worst thing that could ever happen to you. you hadn’t met haechan yet.
on a particularly sunny afternoon, you had gotten dressed to go out to the mall with your best friend and made the unfortunate mistake of walking past haechan, who took one look at you and asked, “you’re really going out wearing that?”
“what’s wrong with it?” you asked in annoyance, glancing down at your outfit. “it’s modest.”
haechan retorted in a heartbeat, “yeah, modest and outdated as shit. you look like your name is velma.” he stood up and grabbed a hold of you, which you didn’t take kindly to, all things considered. “let’s go to your room. i’m not letting you go outside like this. it reflects poorly on the family image.”
you stifled a sigh, knowing better than to protest against him.
“take that shit off,” haechan commanded once you entered your bedroom.
you begrudgingly obeyed him, shedding the long dress with black buttons that formed a line on the front. it was a little dated, perhaps, but you dressed that way to honor your deceased grandmother. your father had liked it. he said it kept alive his mother’s memory.
haechan had been going through your closet in pursuit of something that suited his taste, so when he finally did turn around and see you half naked, he paused. “you look better that way,” he said after a moment.
you were affronted, and your body tensed in remembrance of what had happened the last time you felt so vulnerable.
“relax,” haechan teased, shoving a bright yellow sundress decorated with white daffodils into your arms. “put this on.”
the moment you donned the dress, you swore haechan almost looked happy to see you for the first time. his eyes took in the sight of you and it gave you the feeling of something unstill in the very pit of your stomach, even though in the moment he had silently looked at you, your body had seldom moved.
haechan was pleased. “so you do own something that’s not entirely unwearable. you know, they say fine feathers make fine birds.”
it took everything in you not to roll your eyes. “can i go now?”
“patience, miss mary mack,” haechan chastised playfully, grabbing a hat and purse from your closet, also yellow in color. “here. wear this.” with that, haechan turned and walked out of your room. apparently, that was all the consultation he had to offer.
when you were finally at the mall with your best friend chaewon, you couldn’t help but notice something unusual; there were too many eyes on you. you were used to being paid attention to in certain settings, usually in occasions related to your stepfather’s job where everyone recognized you as an attachment to him. his young, beautiful, unmarried stepdaughter.
this was different. not many people knew you, and yet for whatever reason, you could feel stares from numerous directions. most of the time when you went out with chaewon, they were only looking at her. you could count on both hands, if not more, the amount of times you’d been offered things for free just because a stranger felt moved by her beauty.
but as you stood in the middle of a jewelry store, chaewon was unbothered, your eyes darting over a bunch of luxury watches that were on display. “ooh, i think jaehyun would like this,” she whispered, pointing to a particular silver one. “wanna get something for haechan?”
“not really,” you murmured. “i don’t really know what he likes.” his personality made you think he would prefer something more flashy like gold, but as you pondered his style, your eyes raked over a watch with a brown leather band.
“he’s so cute, though,” chaewon swooned with a smile, sighing dreamily. “jaehyun said that he doesn’t want me to marry him, but it’s ultimately up to my dad. you should put in a good word for me.”
you frowned for a split second. you had always thought that you would marry whoever your dad selected for you, but now that he was dead, that choice was in the stone cold hands of your stepfather and stepbrother. you made an attempt at humor to cloak your grief. “don’t you have enough suitors already?” you teased.
“well, yeah,” chaewon admitted, despite not sounding deterred. “but imagine how much less my parents would argue if they’d just married someone they actually liked. that’s why we can’t have sleepovers at my house. always fussing.”
she briefly paused, her attention stolen by another watch she thought her brother would find fitting as a gift, and pulled out her phone to take a picture. a thought struck her as her fingers moved. “ooh, plus we would be sisters-in-law!”
you nodded along as she rambled, but you couldn’t understand why she would want to wed haechan of all the men who would love to have her hand in marriage. it made no sense to you; he was unbearable and treated you cruelly. she would never know that, though. whenever chaewon came to your house for sleepovers, haechan was always on his best behavior.
you thought about it a little harder. haechan was the type of man that looked perfect in pictures and on paper. there was no doubt that he was a handsome young man, and sometimes he was admittedly even funny, but as long as you had shared a house with him, you had been increasingly more miserable.
though there was no way in hell you could tell chaewon that, not when it was your responsibility to ensure everyone kept your family in high regards, so you forced a smile and told her cheerfully, “i’ll ask him what he thinks about it.”
chaewon embraced you in a tight hug. “you’re the best.”
“no, chaewon,” you murmured faintly. “you are.”
if you had to give haechan credit for one thing, however, it would have to be the outfit he’d dressed you in. despite being often told you were beautiful, you were particularly lacking in suitors, which was concerning now that you were in your twenties.
these are the years for betrothal, your mother had said the day of your twentieth birthday, and when you closed your eyes to blow out the burning candle, you hoped for all the admirers your father had once vowed you would have, remembering the times he’d spun you in his arms and likened you to a princess with a million knights to defend her honor.
all you had ever wanted was to make your father proud, even if it meant settling with a man that was less like a fairytale, although in the deepest part of your heart, you had dreamed of a husband that treated you as well as your father had done until the day he died.
day by day, the reality of the situation seemed more and more grim, and as you compared yourself to other young women of your years, you concerned yourself less with the quality of men, but the quantity; time was running out, and you knew that if they found it necessary, your mother and her husband would pair you on blind dates with men of their choice sooner than later.
for that reason, and despite yourself, you found yourself standing outside haechan’s bedroom door. you almost turned back, almost decided that you could handle your problems on your own. with your pride, it seemed better to die than to ask him to extend his help, especially when he made it a point to remind you that he owed you no favors. but you knocked anyway, and when you heard the sound of brutal combat and agonized cries cease, you knew he was coming.
“what?” was the first thing haechan said when he answered his door. “i’m in the middle of a game.”
you swallowed. the words seemed physically painful to say. “i need your help.” it was a strained sound.
haechan’s irritation was gone, replaced by something closer to amusement and ridicule. “you need my help?” he repeated, as amazed to hear those words as you were burdened to say them. “i owe you my help?”
god, it was insane how absurdly predictable he was. “no, but i didn’t ask you for help last time, and i believe your words were that my fashion choices ‘reflect poorly on the family image,’” you reminded.
haechan laughed; his owns words probably sounded like the wisdom of god repeated back to him. “this is about your subpar sense of style? why didn’t you say so sooner?” he stepped out of his doorway. “you realized why you should listen to big brother, didn’t you?”
hearing him refer to himself that way was almost as strange as hearing the irony in his voice when he called you, “sweet sister.” he was no brother of yours, no matter what the law or marriage said. nevertheless, you couldn’t deny the truth in the rest of his words; if nothing else had changed, then surely it was your clothing that had deterred men away.
inflating his ego was the last thing you wanted, so your response was a mere soft, “will you help me?”
“you’re lucky you’re my responsibility,” haechan replied, as if it would burden him otherwise. “sure, i’ll help you, but you’re gonna need an entire closet revamp. be ready to leave in thirty minutes.”
he walked backwards into his room and shut the door. thirty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of haechan’s sleek, luxurious sports car.
haechan was allergic to silence, and gripping the leather wheel, he asked teasingly, “what made you realize your fashion’s off? did you suddenly get special attention when you were out?”
that was exactly what had happened and you hated it. “more or less,” you told him vaguely.
haechan hummed, putting on his blinker. at least he was a mindful driver. “men want things with value. things with no value go in the trash. your pretty face is a waste if you don’t know what to do with it. save the throwbacks for the met gala.”
“thanks for the advice,” you grumbled.
haechan glanced away from the road briefly to throw you a look. “is that snark?”
“no,” you lied. you both knew it.
it didn’t seem to have personally gotten to him, but haechan was still unsatisfied. “you know how old my mom was when she got engaged to my father?” he asked. “nineteen.”
“and how did that work out for her?” you asked sarcastically, given that they were clearly no longer together.
“wonderfully, considering that when they divorced, she walked away with a fortune more than she had before they were married,” haechan retorted without missing a beat.
the man has a response for everything, you grumbled to yourself, exasperated. “i assume there’s a point in there somewhere.”
“if you would let me get there,” haechan groaned, feigning annoyance. “my mother, despite not being from the most wealthy family ever, still managed to marry my dad. do you want to guess why that is?”
“because your dad values things other than money?” you asked, despite finding it difficult to believe.
“close enough. because my dad saw value in her. the way she behaved, the way she carried herself. that was what made him decide that was the woman he wanted to tie himself to.”
you nodded along. “right.”
haechan rolled his eyes. you still didn’t get it. “the point is, my mom had nothing near my dad’s fortune and still managed to compete against richer women from more prominent families. you, my sweet sister, are the stepdaughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country, and yet how many men have you lured with your own effort?”
you were silent, but you knew he was right to an extent. again. of your suitors, they were mostly men that had heard the chief executive had a stepdaughter and decided that was all that they needed to hear. few were organic, which any woman would prefer.
in an effort to spare your pride, you huffed, “you act as if no man wants me at all.”
haechan laughed harshly. “as long as you’re the ceo’s stepdaughter, of fucking course men will want you. my dad is most likely handpicking a list of candidates for you as well. but most girls run up to their fathers and declare, ‘dad, this is the man i want to marry,’ and pray to god that daddy likes him. you expect me to believe that you’re so good of a stepdaughter, you’ll marry whoever my dad tells you to without bothering to find someone yourself first?”
you sighed.
“everybody in this family serves a purpose,” haechan told you, giving you his attention now that he’d stopped at a red light. “my father leads and represents the company. within a year’s time, he’ll retire and i’ll take his place. your mother assists with charities and public image. you need to figure out how you will contribute.”
it would be untrue if you said haechan hadn’t given you something to contemplate. you could have cared less about the family business, but you remembered your father. sometimes he could be conventional to a fault, though you had still loved him with all your heart. the man had put family above all else in the world, and knowing that, you knew you had to do the same.
not to honor this family whose name you didn’t bear and whose blood you didn’t share, but to honor your father. and there was no better way to do that than to transform yourself from a princess to a queen.
haechan brought you to a specific store you knew your stepfamily frequented. when you walked in together, the staff recognized you both and greeted you respectfully. “genesis,” haechan said to one of the workers, a pretty woman with brown hair and fair skin. “my sister here wants to change her style and is in need of a complete overhaul. do me a solid and show us everything you have in season.”
“you got it,” genesis replied with a kind smile. “right this way, mr. lee.”
she led you to a large, private dressing room secluded from the rest of the store. they had your measurements on file, courtesy of previous fittings, and genesis alongside some other workers began to bring out a large selection of outfits.
haechan did most of the talking. all you had to do was step in and out of the clothes, and wait for his nod of approval. “you look best in bold colors,” haechan mused out loud. he turned to genesis. “let’s try these.”
all around you, there were men and women bustling about as they meticulously organized a fine assortment of clothes and shoes and accessories that would complement your appearance. and when you let yourself sink into the moment, you did feel like royalty.
you did pick a few things yourself and haechan gave no protest, before or after he saw your choice. “i don’t think you have bad coordination. you just need to get your head out of the nineteenth century,” he teased.
you had no response for that, none that wouldn’t kill the mood. even when you were a child, your taste in clothing had always favored that of your grandmother, your father’s mother, yet another loss you had too soon faced. perhaps in dressing like her, you were subconsciously honoring her too.
there was a large, golden-framed mirror fixed to the wallpaper that hung tall against its maroon surface, running nearly from the edge of the floor to the roof, and you gazed upon your appearance with little recognition. “do i look good?” you asked, your face still, your eyes neither fond or unfond.
“you look beautiful, miss,” genesis told you adoringly, delicately placing a headband around your head.
to your chagrin, her input was not the one you had intended to hear. haechan grinned, his warm brown eyes seeming to seldom blink as he looked at you. “it’s an improvement.”
but you could see his eyes wandering, appreciative, and there was an awkward blend of discomfort and desperation that clasped you in its arms. on the one hand, you hated the way he looked at you because it reminded you of the night when his friends had groped your body to their hearts’ content, but on the other, it made you feel desirable. and more than anything, you wanted to be desired.
“thank you for your hard work today,” haechan said to the staff members on your way out, giving your bags to a staff worker to take to the car. the man walked the other direction.
your brows stitched together. “we’re not leaving?” you asked, baffled. maybe he wanted to visit the food court.
“no, my sweet sister,” haechan replied silkily, taking your hand in his. “we have one more stop to make first.”
the second stop was another clothing store a floor higher, which you thought nothing of, assuming he simply wanted to view a broader inventory. haechan led you to the fitting room and told you to stay put.
when he came back, he was holding an ivory lingerie set. your eyes went wide. “haechan, this is…”
“i know what it is,” haechan interjected impatiently. “just try it on so i can see if it’s worth the change.”
you were in no particular hurry to don the ivory set, especially considering you could sense the sting of his eyes boring holes through your bare skin, and you couldn’t believe he had asked you to wear something so raunchy. but there he was, restlessly waiting, his gaze expectant.
your movements were begrudging. when you had actually willed yourself to wear it in front of him, your eyes never met his own. the outfit of his choice was thin as paper and form-fitting and hid little to nothing, the color of your flesh exposed in between intricate stitches of white silk and lace. you felt every bit as naked as you were. haechan very clearly liked what he saw. “maybe you aren’t entirely worthless,” he said, reaching out to brush his hands over your figure. you shuddered.
he stepped back, pulling out his wallet.
“alright, you can take it off. for now.” his smile was unsettling. “i’m buying it.”
something told you that that was nothing to celebrate. after haechan paid, you left the stores for good, and he held the bag himself. “tonight,” he whispered in your ear. “put it on. wait for me. i’m not asking.”
your throat dried, but you nodded your head. what else were you to do?
the rest of your day had been spent rearranging your closet, contemplating heavily what of the clothes you had already owned you would keep, and where to put the ones you couldn’t bring yourself to discard. walking in, you almost never walked out. though it was a time-consuming task, you took delight in shelving your shoes and hanging your clothes. it was distracting.
it lent itself to being a great escape for the trouble which you knew in the back of your mind would find you before the night’s end, and every now and then, you would fleetingly glance back at the singular bag you had yet to open, afraid of its contents.
you wanted to hide. more than anything, you wanted to disappear beneath a mountain of armani tops and miu miu skirts and gucci loafers, concealed and covered, safe from all that sought to hurt you. but this was the reality that had been chosen for you, even if you hadn’t chosen it.
night fell too quickly. you had prayed for the sun to take its sweet time (even though you were aware it would purely mean delaying the inevitable, no real answer), but she, too, had something to hide from; the moon and the night. you dressed yourself in the lingerie; you waited; your heart hammered against your chest and your stomach twisted.
haechan knocked merely to announce himself and strutted in with his usual confident gait. he took out look at you sitting at the edge of your bed and whistled. “you’re so obedient when you want to be,” he praised. “are you learning, sweetheart? what happens when you don’t listen to me?”
you had no clue what would have happened, not specifically, but you were in no way inclined to find out.
haechan joined you on your mattress, sitting beside you. his warm hand wandered to your thigh and you felt your body lock with the wariness of a woman who had felt danger and recognized its emergence. “you’re still upset with me,” he pointed out. “for letting my friends touch you.”
your eyes closed, and you yearned to go anywhere but back to that moment.
“believe me,” haechan whispered, his rough fingers creeping higher, farther. “i didn’t want to. but you weren’t taking me seriously. so much disobedience, so much attitude. i figured you would learn then. and like always, i was right.”
“haechan,” you called his name softly, light as a feather. “i don’t want to do this. what if my mom and your dad find out?”
haechan brushed his thumb against your bottom lip. “if you keep that pretty mouth shut, they won’t.”
you swallowed harshly. something had to work. “but you’re my brother…”
haechan completely dismissed your concerns. “exactly. i own you, remember? i can do whatever the hell i want with you. and if i want to fuck you til i can’t anymore, then i’ll do that.”
“i’m supposed to wait…”
haechan groaned. “your future husband doesn’t have to know.”
he lay you down on your back and mounted you, his knees on either side of your body as he bound you to the mattress by your wrists.
“he’ll lie to you, you know,” haechan murmured against your neck, pressing kisses there. “you can lie back and tell him that you’re a virgin. you think he’ll know the difference?”
you squirmed underneath his weight.
haechan straightened up and smacked your hardly clothed cunt, declaring, “that’s a myth.”
you gasped out. as he drew back, haechan admired the view of you sprawled out before him on the bed, the delicate designs of the lingerie teasing him just enough to evoke a carnal curiosity of a sort. your nipples were obscured, but he could see the upper and underside of your breasts, the soft, moistened surface of your stomach, and the plush, malleable flesh of your thighs.
“my god,” haechan said in amazement. “where do i even begin with you?”
you didn’t answer, but that wasn’t a surprise to haechan. you knew better than to spite him with words, and you knew they wouldn’t persuade him.
haechan paid attention to everything. that which he wanted to see, and that which he didn’t. and it was very obvious that you were anxious. “you don’t have to be nervous,” he assured you, his saccharine voice almost affectionate. “i’ll be gentle. relatively.”
his lips met your skin again, kissing your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders. he could have self-restraint when he so desired, and at the moment, he was summoning all of his willpower. he had this unwavering feeling that he would thank himself later.
you only wanted it to be over. there seemed no way around haechan getting what he wanted, and though there was nothing stopping you from confiding in your mother, you had doubts about her backbone; even if she heard your concerns, you feared that she would ignore them if it meant preserving her marriage. you figured that was why she had you placate her husband’s child.
haechan slipped his hand underneath the crotch of the lingerie and ran his fingers over your slit, testing the waters. dissatisfied, he slipped the fabric to the side and spat between your legs, using it as lubricant as he worked a finger inside. “need you to relax for me,” he murmured.
you weren’t sure how to relax; your body was uncalm and so was your mind, plagued with the reminder of how wrong this was and the memory of how crude the first touches your body received had been, both cementing you in a state of sheer weakness. you had always known, as every woman did, that your body was never truly your own, but this was unlike anything you had ever braced yourself for.
haechan didn’t try to uncover the thoughts in your head just yet. he had no use for them. to him, the more pressing matter was the heat between your legs, and he was more preoccupied with stoking the flames.
your body tightened around his fingers as he stuck in another, the pair steadily collecting your moisture as haechan tried to open you up for him. his eyes flitted over your body, tense as ever, and he shook his head, complaining, “you’re like a damn crab.”
you couldn’t help it. every inch of you was rigid. as you had come to know, haechan got this dangerous look on his face whenever a lightbulb went off in his head, and now was no different. he never withdrew his fingers, but he crouched between your legs to flick his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves.
that got you jumping.
haechan lapped at you as his digits moved inside you, working together to unravel you enough that you could take him. your hands gripped the bedding and your soft moans filled the rest of the silence that went untouched by the sound of your body slickening with unwanted arousal. you tilted your head and bit your lip, hoping to suppress your own noises. it was humiliating.
haechan was finally able to include a third finger with ease, and by that point, he was confident he had done ample work, but he kept going. the thought of what you would sound like when you came for him entered his mind with no intention of vacating, and he decided he would see it for himself.
you could feel it, the fire building rapidly in your core. haechan sensed it too; your body was more restless and your breathing was heavier and some smaller details that weren’t lost on him. he smirked against your folds. “that’s it. don’t fight it, sunshine. just come for me.”
unable to keep your impending orgasm at bay, you trembled in climax at last, hiding your face in a pillow not only to smother your sounds, but to minimize your embarrassment. you clenched around his three, slender digits and your body eased despite yourself.
haechan withdrew his slick fingers from your dripping cunt and sucked them into his mouth with a hum of delight. “now you’re ready for my cock.” he didn’t wait for you to respond. you watched with a speeding heart as he undid his clothes and suddenly realized how much more exposed you had been compared to him, how you were vulnerable and waiting.
haechan grabbed a condom from the right side pocket of his fallen leather jacket and rolled it onto his hardened length. you squirmed when he got closer, but haechan was unfazed, spreading your legs back apart and steadily making his way inside.
you quietly whimpered, “haechan.” the stretch was unlike anything you had taken before, more intense then his fingers alone. you were wet enough to handle it, haechan had made sure of that much, but no preparation could compare when you were so used to being empty.
haechan took his sweet time. in a strange act of kindness, he extended his hand for you to hold, which you did. “i know,” he murmured, kissing your face. “i know, sweetheart. it’s okay. you can take it.”
you nodded your head, your hand never daring to leave his. haechan watched your face as he gingerly coaxed himself deeper, your walls expanding around his girth. soft, high moans escaped him as he filled you to the hilt. you met his eyes for the first time, having somehow mustered the courage, and for a minute, something kept you from looking away.
sooner than later, haechan had sheathed himself inside you completely, but he didn’t move yet. “there you go. i told you that you could take it,” he praised, cradling your cheeks in his hands. “does it hurt?”
most of your voice failed and you managed a tiny, “no.” on the contrary, there was an unusual pleasure in being filled by him.
haechan began to thrust in and out of you, dragging himself back and forth through your slick heat. the friction and the warmth of him was pleasant, and your pussy gushed around him with every movement. at the sound of your own wetness, you flushed and covered your face.
“you’re so damn shy,” haechan teased. he gently pried your hand away from your face. “don’t hide. i want to see that pretty little face showing me how good i’m making you feel.”
you shook your head, ashamed. you had always been told to wait. to lie beneath him in this manner felt forbidden and you knew it as surely as you knew the sun would come, but the knowing did not cease the feeling, and the feeling did not sate the knowing.
it didn’t help that haechan had set a comfortable pace, his thrusts neither too fast nor too hard; they were long, deep strokes that filled you just right and allowed him to savor the way your pussy throbbed around and kneaded his cock for dear life. you were both making a mess of each other and you utterly despised it.
haechan was perceptive to a fault and he knew your shame was likely most of what kept you quiet. had your parents not been home, though they surely wouldn’t hear you when their own rooms were many yards away (though that didn’t account for maids and servants with busy mouths), he would have been less lenient. “i hate quiet sex,” haechan grumbled. “talk to me.”
your face was hot and your ears burned. “i don’t know what to say.”
haechan’s grin was smug. “that’s an easy fix. tell me how much you like me inside of you.”
you did like the feel of him inside of you. more than you cared to admit. the feeling of being full pleased you more than you had anticipated. “i… thought it would be worse,” you murmured.
that amused haechan. “worse, huh? you thought i wouldn’t take care of you?”
“yeah,” you replied faintly. it seemed so unlike him, with how cruel he had been.
haechan leaned lower and caressed your face with his thumb. “if you act like a woman, i’ll treat you like a princess,” he crooned. then, he tugged at your hair and pulled you toward him, not enough to cause you any pain, but enough to draw a startled gasp out of you and make his threat clear. “if you don’t, i treat you like a peasant. understand?”
the words leapt out of your mouth. “i understand!”
“good girl,” he sang, releasing you. “you could make some man really happy one day, you know that?”
you peered up at him. your mouth wouldn’t close. “you think so?”
haechan hummed. his hands cupped your breast and slowly but surely made their way to your hips as his thrusts slowed to a halt. the coldness of his rings made you shudder. “with practice,” he said, admiring the fucked-out looked on your face, his handiwork. “i see in you what my dad saw in my mom. you just need a little training. i could perfect you. would you like that?”
“well, i don’t…”
haechan cut you off. “just think about it. imagine all the men lining up for you to have you on their arm. your mother would stop nagging you. she’d stop comparing you to your friend, too.”
those images flashed in your mind as they often did, the way men would gawk and stare and compete among themselves, vying for your hand in marriage. they would do their best to impress your stepfather, going to war to prove their worthiness. it was easy to imagine after having it described to you on more occasions than you could count, because when chaewon talked, it was your job to listen and support her. your heart clenched.
haechan raised a brow, still smoothing his hands up and down your body. “did you think i didn’t know?”
you said nothing. haechan seemed to know everything.
haechan felt your body tensing beneath his hands, but if anything, it only spurred him on. “she gives you hell. you try so hard to please mommy, but nothing’s ever enough because you’re not her. and you compare yourself to every other girl in your circle because that’s what she does - pick you apart. so you sit there, ignorant in your ways, wondering if you’re just broken. i bet it’s exhausting.”
your eyes burned with unshed tears. “haechan…,” you trailed off weakly. every word cut deeper than the last.
“i could make you into something even better,” haechan whispered, his face so close to yours as his breath tickled your ear. when he said it like that, it sounded like a promise. “i could turn you into something beautiful that no one could resist and no one would deny. men will look at you and dream of making you their wife. mothers will look at you and back at their own daughters with scorn, wondering why they can’t be more like you. fathers will look at you and hope to god their son brings back a woman even half as wonderful as you could be.”
it felt like you were holding your breath and waiting to die.
then, haechan abruptly pulled back, straightening himself. “or not.” he shrugged his shoulders. “you could just commit to a life of constant critique and never satisfy anyone. you could keep convincing yourself that you don’t care. but every woman cares. it’s in your nature.”
without warning, he started moving again, and it knocked the breath out of you. he was closer now, hot on the tail of release.
haechan’s voice was like silk. “do you want to be perfect, sweetheart?”
you needed it. you longed for it. you craved it more than anything. “yes,” you replied breathlessly.
“then, let me teach you how,” he said, simple as that. a great offer, void of charge. “let me make you perfect.”
you bobbed your head without hesitation, thoroughly sold, unconcerned with what you had given away. he was offering you everything you wanted on a silver platter and you had no intention of denying yourself the opportunity to be everything that everyone wanted.
haechan smiled, and for once, he had nothing to say, either. but his face said it all; he was pleased.
after a few more moments, his thrusts became somewhat sporadic, and after a few moments more, he leaned down and sank his teeth into the smooth flesh of your shoulder as he came, stifling his soft moans. your lips parted, but you didn’t complain; you knew that much better.
he took a moment to gather his bearings, but once his mind had cleared and his legs remembered how to serve him, haechan pulled away and rose to his feet. “come on. let’s get you cleaned up.”
haechan did most of the work, scrubbing you clean and holding you up when your body felt too weak to stand. you almost felt okay when you were back in bed, better than what you had initially feared. rather than used, you felt restless, eager to know and eager to become.
“good night,” haechan said from your doorway. “get some rest. you deserve it.”
with that, he turned and left.
you glanced down at your pristine, white sheets. there was a tiny red spot from where your bodies had been.
the day before your stepfather’s birthday, your mother took you with her to buy ingredients for his birthday cake. there was no need for her to go out, or to keep you in tow, for that matter, but your mother was nothing if not a perfect performer.
“you look different,” she observed.
that had your attention, and you immediately stood up even straighter than you already were. “do i?”
your mother hummed, pleasantly surprised. “yes. more sophisticated.”
grinning from ear to ear, you confessed, “i decided to try a different style.”
your mother gave you a tiny smile of approval, placing her hand on your shoulder. “well, that’s excellent. it suits you better. i was starting to worry i’d made a mistake with you along the way somewhere. your daddy would be turning in his grave.”
your heart clenched at the mention of your late father, but you didn’t let it spoil the moment.
turning the aisle, you mother asked, “don’t you want to know why i brought you here with me?”
you decided you would bite and guessed, “to spend quality time with your only daughter?”
your mother laughed. “to remind you of something. even being married to the richest man on the east side, i have certain things i do as a courtesy. i still have wife duties that my husband expects of me. when you marry a man of your own some day, you will understand. your husband will still expect you to raise his children, not a nanny.”
“ah,” you replied, bobbing your head. “of course, i understand that.”
“good. i don’t want you to hate me for being hard on you now, but i do it with faith that when the time comes, you’ll be prepared. becoming your mother has been the greatest blessing god has ever given me. he will give it to you, too.”
the inevitability of motherhood was something you had already long accepted, years before you could truly even understand what it meant. and maybe even now, you might not have totally known. “amen,” you agreed.
your mother pretended to be looking at her phone, checking her list of ingredients, but you noticed her glancing subtly at a man who had been not so discreetly throwing looks where you two stood at a shelf. she turned to you with a smirk that meant she was up to no good. “do you think he’s looking at you or me?”
you gawked and whispered, “mom, you’re married.”
“oh, please,” she mumbled, lightheartedly rolling her eyes. “marriage is security, honey. a man gets married to have an heir, and a woman gets married to have a man take care of her. it’s accomplished. it’s safety, not love.”
she sounded so sure. you thought of what chaewon had told you, about if her parents had married someone they liked instead. with time, maybe they could have grown to love each other. but first and foremost, marriage was a business proposal, and that was what you had always known.
as much as you loved your parents, you knew the love between them had always been scarce. they’d committed to their roles not out of love, but out of an obligation they thought had been given to them by god. your mother put it best. a man took care of a woman, and a woman took care of a man’s child. what he provided for, the woman nurtured.
“besides, i’m just appreciating,” your mother replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “more importantly, your stepfather and i are going on a romantic husband-and-wife trip together in the maldives next week for his birthday, so it will just be you, haechan and the servants in the house for two weeks. i trust that you can handle everything he needs. apparently, he really likes your cooking.”
“he’s never told me that,” you murmured. at first, you had just thought he liked to make you needlessly suffer.
“maybe he’s more the physically affectionate type. must run in the family,” she quipped. “oh, and i was told he took you shopping. how was that?”
you thought about it. to be fair, it had been a pleasant day. the staff were patient and kind and hard-working, and you had found all the new clothes, though some styles would be an adjustment, beautiful. there was the end of day, which you knew you could never mention a word of, but it hadn’t been what you dreaded it would be.
the answer you gave your mother was far less complicated, and you simply told her, “it was nice. he helped me pick out a few things. i guess we’re bonding.”
your mother put a hand over her heart. “oh, i’m so happy to hear that. i was worried that maybe you were too old to appreciate the gift of having an older brother.”
“honestly, i think i’m starting to appreciate it now more than ever,” you admitted softly.
“that’s beautiful. your stepfather told me you would eventually get along, but i had trouble believing it. well, i can breathe easier now,” she said, sighing with relief. “alright, let’s go get those damn eggs and get the hell out of here.”
that had been the intention, until she noticed someone whom she’d referred to as the director’s wife, most likely an affiliate of one of the charities she worked with. no sooner had she noticed her son was with her than she’d grabbed you by the arm and took you over to introduce you to him. to your delight, he seemed to like what he saw.
your stepfather’s birthday party seemed to be going as beautifully as any occasion intended to celebrate a man over half a hundred, part of which meant that most shares of the cake you and your mother had whisked together were quickly eaten by his nieces and nephews and the young children of the men he named friends.
it also meant that it was quite boring. in truth, the party was half celebration and half a fundraiser that welcomed many wealthy men and women across the country, supposedly meant to provide money for existing youth programs. whether or not it was being done in good faith, you knew better than to question. rather, you fulfilled your daughterly duties, greeting guests as they came.
throughout the course of the party, you received ample attention. it was weird, being recognized all of a sudden and directly approached. only last week, men seemed to whisper if they looked at you, and now businessmen in their thirties were flirting with you here and there, some older, and men with boys said how fitting you would be for their dear sons at home.
one man had talked your ears off about his boy child, a notable young fellow by word of how he’d been described, a decorated warrior. the man told you he’d speak with your father and perhaps try to arrange a meeting with the boy he’d promised could protect you and any children you birthed. though you doubted your stepfather would be too impressed, you’d shown him your best smile and told him how delightful it sounded.
that being said, you were of the opinion that it wasn’t as bad as you’d made it out to be. you were pleased with the attention, it made you feel confident, and you accepted the unpleasant parts as simply coming with the territory.
when you finally gained a moment of respite towards the middle of the party, you found a troubled chaewon at the end of a long table at the back of the grand hall. even she, for all her bubbliness, seemed over it. “you look thrilled,” you remarked ironically.
that brought a smile to her upturned lips. “i was just thinking.”
you were all ears. “yeah?”
“the human body is so smart and so dumb. we have seals underneath our fingernails to protect the nail bed from infection, but women still die giving birth.”
you blinked. then you laughed. “you chose a fine place to discuss this matter.”
chaewon smirked. “am i wrong?”
“the human body was never ordained by god to be immune to pain, you know,” you told her, not unkind. “it was ordained by him to sustain it. pain keeps us human, and more importantly, it keeps us alive and breathing.”
“a pain men don’t share,” chaewon murmured.
you finished in a heartbeat, “a pleasure and privilege men don’t share too.”
chaewon groaned, but she wasn’t upset, not seriously. “you sound like my mother. and her mother.”
you raised your shoulders. “well, maybe there are lessons to learn from the wise and more experienced.”
chaewon scoffed. usually, she agreed with you on these matters, as it was all she had ever known, but you could sense a tension within her like no other. it plagued her. “look at you getting so smart.” she sighed, softening. “i guess i’m just scared of giving birth. i can handle the marriage stuff, i’ve always dreamed of it. but the second my parents start mentioning grandchildren and the baby talk, i want to disappear.”
you grabbed her hand, sympathetic. you may not have shared it, but it was a valid concern of hers, to be fair. “you’ve suffered a lot of loss in your family because of it. it makes sense that you’re scared,” you whispered, thinking of the late aunts and cousins she’d mourned. “but your mother was fine, wasn’t she? you might not have to share that fate. god will protect you.”
chaewon nodded her head. it was true, her mother had experienced little to no complications when she’d birthed her and her older brother. her eyes shone with hope as she replied, “you’re right. their fate isn’t mine.”
you squeezed her hand and smiled proudly. “there you go.”
something caught chaewon’s eye. her gaze drifted from your face and her grip on your hand tightened. when you heard a familiar dreamy sigh part her lips, you knew instantly what she had seen without looking. “i don’t envy you, you know.”
your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”
“i’d hate to be his stepsister. i’d struggle to keep my hands off him,” she explained, probably conjuring up fantasies in her head.
you faltered for half a second, but swiftly composed yourself when you saw haechan coming.
“my dad sure knows how to bore somebody,” haechan said when he came your way. “you ladies look lovely tonight.”
chaewon offered him her seat so that he could sit between you both. his words got a laugh out of her, though with how she was looking at him, she probably would’ve laughed if he joked about folding laundry. “thank you. we’re probably not the target audience. the older crowd seem happy.”
“oh, trust me. they are,” you droned.
haechan turned his head at you, grinning. “getting hit on by the fifty and up club, sister?”
you almost laughed. “nearly so. they seem to just think i’m a perfect match for their sons for now.”
haechan was amused. “i guess they stop by you first then make their way on over to me to tell me that the future of greatness is in my hands.” he smiled and curled an arm around chaewon gingerly. “my feet are tired. would you mind getting me something to drink from the bar?”
chaewon rose to her feet without wasting time. “sure. what should i get you?”
“just tell them it’s for me. the guy’s a longtime caterer. he knows what i like.”
chaewon bobbed her head and somehow, even as she scurried away, it was with refinement and elegance and grace.
and then you were alone. haechan sighed, leaning back in his chair. “are you enjoying the attention?” he asked, glancing over at you.
you smiled. it felt different than before. “yes. it makes me feel beautiful.”
haechan didn’t skip a beat. “you are beautiful. with a little sophistication, you will be the most beautiful woman to ever grace the earth.”
sophistication. yes, refined and elegant and graceful. “where do i lack?” you needed to know.
haechan brushed a strand of hair behind your ears. “i spent a month with my family on my father’s side when i was little. his brother’s wife has many daughters. one thing i heard her tell them all the time was, ‘it only takes a moment to rouse a man’s excitement, but his fidelity? you will work at that for the rest of your life.’” haechan smiled. “do you know where i’m going with this, sweetheart?”
you thought about it. “i have to be more than just a pretty face.”
“exactly,” haechan sang. “things with no value go in the trash. men want a wife they can brag about. you’re beautiful and your stepfather is one of the most influential men in the world. notable achievements. what else?”
“i graduated top of my class,” you said, remembering the years of hard work that you had put into achieving strong academics.
“an educated woman,” haechan said. “good. what else?”
“i’m good with kids,” you blurted.
haechan was grinning. he liked the sound of that. “amazing. men want children to continue their legacies. for that, they need a good woman to manage their households. what else?”
“i can sing, sew, cook, clean…,”
“you know what you’re missing?” haechan interjected. he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “submission. for all the good things about you, sweetheart, you do have a mouth on you. it could do you some good to be more docile.”
maybe he was right. you had never considered yourself particularly unruly, but you were no idiot, and you knew when things were worth questioning. like the true meaning of this party, for that matter. but that did not mean you had to be the one to question it, and sometimes, closing your eyes and looking the other way was smarter.
chaewon was returning, her short black hair bouncing as she walked with that perfect smile. “here you are,” she said to haechan, handing him over a glass.
“thank you, chaewon.” he took a tentative sip, judging for a moment, then hummed in satisfaction. “just the way i like it.”
your parents left the morning after the party, and haechan had sent home all the housekeepers, leaving you with only yourself during the day while he tended to his father’s affairs at work, in his absence.
with the housekeepers gone, there would be things to do around the house, and you spent a morning compiling a list in your mind. the laundry would need to be taken care of. the main rooms managed, if there were guests. haechan liked coffee in the morning, and he would expect to come back to dinner already waiting, no matter how late he returned home, which was sometimes long after the day’s end.
you managed to perfect your routine in seven days. wake up early enough so that his coffee was ready to grab on his way out. on wednesdays, he went in later, so you would need to wake up even earlier to prepare breakfast. he liked familiar foods for breakfast but more variety for dinner, so that was a factor when you were shopping. laundry was a sunday affair, and you had to ensure you didn’t use the detergent that irritated his skin.
one day in particular was different. haechan hardly went in from thursday to sunday, and today was friday, so he was home. over breakfast, he said, “yuta nakamoto, one of our japanese investors, is coming over this afternoon. if you don’t behave yourself, it’s not just me you disappoint, it’s our entire family. and your father.”
the mention of your father made your heart clench. “i understand.”
“see that you do.” he stood, taking up his plate. he set it in the sink, but didn’t wash it. he was expecting that of you. “breakfast was good. you’re handling this well.” with that, he turned and walked away.
after cleaning the kitchen, you went upstairs to freshen up and make yourself pretty. more often than not, you chose makeup that was subtle and complemented your natural features. peering into the closet that was brimming with clothes haechan had hand-picked for you to wear, you settled on a dress that was flattering without being too formal.
it was maybe two hours before you were ready. you went to haechan’s door, dressed in an outfit he had bought, smelling like the lotion and oil you had anointed yourself with after shower. your fist tapped his door.
when he came out, he was dressed differently too, as if he was preparing to go to work. his eyes flitted over your body. you waited for his approval with bated breath. it was only for a few seconds, but you swore it felt like minutes. “you look beautiful,” he said. his voice was absent of awe, but his eyes were appreciative.
you smiled, relieved. “thank you,” you said. “will he be here soon?”
“soon,” haechan said, checking his watch. your mind wandered back to the watch with the leather band you had seen while shopping with chaewon. he went downstairs, and you followed him.
true to his word, yuta nakamoto did arrive shortly after. the two of them exchanged greetings.
“let me take your coat, sir,” you said politely.
“oh, thank you.” yuta smiled, shrugged his coat off, and handed it over to you. you put it on the rack.
“this is my stepsister,” haechan introduced. he told him your name.
you grinned. “can i get you something to drink, mr. nakamoto?”
“just some water would be wonderful,” he told you. “the sun’s blazing out there.”
haechan made himself chuckle. “the summers are getting hotter.”
as you went to fix yuta nakamoto a glass of water, you could hear him talking to your brother as they stepped further into the foyer. “your sister is very well-trained,” he said.
haechan laughed. this one had less of a performative quality. “we lees like everything in top tier condition, from our women to our products.”
the afternoon passed smoothly, and the meeting was a pleasant affair. you didn’t do much of anything, but you made it a point to be available. the two of them talked about business, and haechan was his usual charming self, flashing smiles and saying all the right things. you followed their dialogue but didn’t comment.
it was maybe about forty five minutes until yuta nakamoto left and you returned his coat to him, helping him slip it back on. he looked relaxed and confident in the matters they’d discussed. you closed the door behind him on his way out, and turned to haechan who looked pleased himself. “you were perfect,” he said.
your eyes sparkled. “really?”
haechan had a twinkle to his eyes as well, admiring his handiwork. “you were poised. servile without being too obsequious. he noticed.”
he’s proud of me, you thought, your heart feeling light. “thank you,” you said.
“for what?” he was literally asking.
“for making me better,” you whispered. “for showing me how to be a proper woman.”
haechan ran his finger over your face. “you’re welcome,” he said softly. “your father would be proud.”
it was the single most powerful thing he could have said. you really hoped so. nothing mattered more, nothing at all.
when the days passed, you hardly noticed the time lost. there were many things around the house that needed to be taken care of, and it was by no means a small estate, so your work was often cut out for you. you told yourself it was nothing you couldn’t bear on your own. you were the daughter of the most powerful man in the country, and this was your first test to see if you could handle the privilege and honor. all you had to do was keep haechan happy. it wasn’t as if you had children to raise, so it ought to have been simple enough.
and at moments when you had spare time to think, your mind wandered to what haechan was doing at work, if the company was giving him a hard time. here and there he would come home particularly agitated, but you knew nonetheless that he would prosper. you applied the same principle; if he was not able to bear his father’s responsibilities in his absence, there was no way he could run the company when the baton was passed.
that was nothing to worry about though. haechan was smart and competent. he had purified you with ease, made you the woman your father had known you could be, and it had taken him little to nothing. he was a man that you could depend on, and for that, you wanted to prove that he could rely on you to do what he expected as well. you had to.
the day had become night, and darkness settled around the house. you lit candles in the kitchen to create the feeling of an intimate moment. haechan was on the phone as you set the table. “oh, that’s wonderful. how long are you staying?” you watched him with curious eyes as he took his seat. “no, no, not at all. i can handle the company. it won’t burn down if you take a few more weeks off.”
so that’s what it was. your parents were extending their getaway.
“it is beautiful,” haechan said, sounding as if he was agreeing with something. “stay. you deserve it. make sure you appreciate how blue the water is before you come back and see murky everything is in the city.” haechan laughed. “yes, she’s well. she’s plating dinner as we speak. she’s been doing a remarkable job.”
your heart fluttered. you set the utensils down in a careful order. he’s talking about me.
“alright. call me when you have lunch. have a good night,” he said at last, hanging up. “pass me the salt.”
it was an equal distance away from him as it was from you, but you handed it over regardless.
he shook some grains into his food. “you know,” he said. “we’ve got a lot of time together. looks like mom and dad aren’t coming home until next month.”
“i heard,” you said. “did you ask them to take pictures of the water?”
“no,” haechan said. he picked up his fork. “i’m sure your mom will anyway. she’d take pictures of the lake we see every day leaving the house.” he laughed at himself.
it occurred to you then that you hadn’t left the house at all since the party, not even to go shopping. your mother might have liked to go out herself sometimes, if not out of a genuine preference for doing things herself than out of sense of duty to perform it, though your stepfather himself did not seem to expect it of her. he cared less about who did the shopping and how and more about what time dinner would be prepared.
you had spoken to chaewon since that night, but every exchange was sparse and fleeting. you were too busy as of late, and certainly she had her own affairs to attend to.
“would it be okay if i invited chaewon over someday?” you asked. haechan hung out with his friends plenty enough. he never said so, but why else would he come home so late smelling of alcohol?
“chaewon,” he repeated. haechan hummed, mulling it over. “fine. you’ve been good.”
you beamed. it would be good to see her again. “thank you,” you said, remembering his lessons. submission.
haechan chuckled. “don’t thank me yet. nothing is for free.”
after dinner, you washed the dishes, wiped the table, and then at last withdrew to your bedroom to cleanse yourself. you had chosen a silky black nightgown to wear to bed, but first anointed your skin with lotion to make it especially soft for him tonight.
haechan appeared in your doorway moments later and welcomed himself inside. “are you ready for me, sweetheart?” he didn’t wait for you to answer. his hands cupped your breasts through your gown, eager to feel what was his.
it did you no good not to be ready; he would take what he wanted regardless. you tensed a bit at first, but willed yourself to relax. the contact took some getting used to, but you didn’t want to displease him. perhaps by the time your future husband was due to take you, you would be prepared enough not to be so fidgety. “yes,” you whispered.
oddly enough, haechan didn’t speak right away. for a moment all you could hear was his breathing and the sound of your nightgown rustling as he kneaded your breasts through the fabric. your lips parted ever so slightly when his thumbs brushed repeatedly against your nipples.
“still so restless. guess that means i just have to fuck you till you get comfortable.” his hands dropped to his sides. “but not tonight. get on your knees.”
your brows furrowed, but you did as told.
“look at you,” he crooned, brushing his fingers through your hair. “right where you belong. you look so pretty.”
your lashes fluttered. “thank you.”
“don’t thank me yet,” he said for the second time. “take my pants off.”
he hadn’t decompressed for the day yet beyond dinner, so instead of his casual wear, he was sporting the clothes he’d worn into the office. you undid the belt buckle and slipped it off, undid his fly, and let his pants fall down to his ankles.
you had been about to reach for his underwear too when his hands gripped yours. “suck,” he said.
your lips tugged. “but you’re not…”
a smack rang out in the air. “did i tell you to comment on my state of undress or did i tell you to suck?”
you reached up to hold your sizzling cheek. “i’m sorry…”
haechan was annoyed. “don’t be sorry. do what i told you to fucking do. if you can’t please me, you’ll never please any man.”
you pressed your lips against the outline of his half-hard cock through his boxers. you hadn’t expected this to be what he wanted, you thought it would be more like the first night he took you, but you supposed there were many ways to please a man, and a good wife should be skilled at them all.
“there you go,” he said. “lick me. do it like you’re fucking starving for it.”
your tongue darted against the dent in his pants, licking, swirling, sucking, your world narrowing to the taste of cotton and your own saliva. you wished you would have known the sort of favor he wanted. you might have looked online for some tips, anything that would temper this sense of aimlessness that accompanied your fear of arousing disappointment rather than lust.
haechan moaned, though, his fingers tightening in your hair with need instead of violence for now. that noise was a light in the dark for you, and you followed it, repeating whatever stroke of your tongue had given him pleasure with a touch more of confidence. the floor was rough against your knees, but you would bruise them both a million times over if it meant he was satisfied. because if he was satisfied, it meant you were doing something right.
“just like that. good.” his words were breathy. a wet spot had formed in his pants from the combined dampness of your saliva and his precum.
you could still feel the faint burn on your cheek where his palm had whacked you, but the pain had taken a backseat to his pleasure, so it was a distant thing in the moment. the first tests started at home. you would give favors many times once you were married, so it was best to get good at it early. thank goodness haechan was such a thorough teacher, keeping you disciplined.
“fuck, baby,” he groaned. you figured his body was of a more sensitive nature, so even through his underwear he must have felt these sensations sharper than most.
his cock had reached total erection, and you had felt it growing against your skin with every warm touch. you remembered how it had felt inside you at first, the size so overwhelming you had bled after. it hadn’t hurt per se, but the stretch was so unusual you had nothing to compare it to. and haechan had been courteous and kind, so it was not as unbearable as you had imagined.
more importantly, your body had given him immense pleasure, and you were of a mind to keep it that way, thinking of how you would drink less at the next gala and eat better than was normal for you and wear more of the clothes and undergarments he so loved, as you were memorizing the colors and outfits and fabrics that were pleasant to his senses and tastes…
“take my cock out,” haechan said. “i want you to suck me now. and i don’t want to feel any teeth.” your hands reached for his boxers and tugged them down to reunite with his pants. his cock sprung free, already leaking and aching for you to the finish the job. you took only a little bit into your mouth at first, intimidated by the remaining length. how could this all fit into your mouth?
haechan didn’t offer answers, but he did offer moans, which in a way was an answer in and of itself. you kept that motion up for as long as you could, but when you started to take him deeper, your throat rejected it and you gagged. you pulled off him, tears burning your eyes.
when haechan sighed, you feared he would strike you again, but instead he grabbed one of your hands and made you curl it around his cock. “keep your hand here.” he moved the other beneath it to the bottom. “move this one up and down. like that. good. now try it again.”
your lips sealed around his cock again, your dominant hand stroking his cock all the while, the two working in tandem to deliver the high he was seeking. you focused on your breathing more than anything, because it felt like that was where things started to go wrong.
haechan’s hand cupped yours, demonstrating to you how to squeeze his cock, and from there it was relatively smooth sailing. every now and then you would go up to let yourself breathe through your mouth, but you tried not to do it too long, or too often, lest it disturbed him.
“there you go. you’re getting the hang of it,” he said. you could see the way his chest was rising and falling, falling and rising. “look me in the eyes while you suck my dick.” you did. in the beginning it was an awkward thing, meeting his gaze when you were doing something so intimate, but you didn’t dare look away. he had given you a task, and you intended to see it through no matter what. everything else had to be temporarily set aside.
haechan reached down to tug the top of your nightgown and expose your breasts to him, the sight stimulating him even more. he squeezed them as he done before, only this time without the barrier to keep you from noticing how warm his hands were. his fingers brushed your nipples. it was almost distracting, but you summoned all your willpower to keep yourself focused on what was most important.
the sound of you sucking him was wet and lewd, but you supposed haechan had like that, because here and there he would mutter things under his breath about how beautiful you looked and sounded on your knees before him. you remembered he’d said he hated quietness during intimate acts. perhaps the next time he took you you should make yourself especially loud for him. he would appreciate that.
“i’m gonna come,” he grunted. “faster.”
you obliged, setting a new pace that was quicker and harder to maintain than the other, but it wasn’t so bad; in a few moments, he would be finished. in a few moments, you could say you were beginning to acquire another skill, and only haechan could speak to what extent, but you were hopeful he would be content…
“fuck,” haechan hissed. he’s liking it. he likes it. you hoped he would finish soon. you felt your mouth growing tired, and you didn’t want to anger him by stopping now of all moments, now when he was so close to the finish, right there…
haechan came at last, spilling into your mouth with a shrill sound and an abrupt forward drive of his hips. his eyes snapped closed and he used your mouth until every bit of his high began to fade.
when they opened at last, he was demanding. “swallow.”
the taste was bitter, but you made yourself do as he bade you, swallowing his warmth until there was no more. only then did he withdraw from your mouth.
“now you can thank me,” he said. “thank me for letting you suck my cock.”
your eyes darted away awkwardly. “thank you for… letting me you suck your cock.”
he grabbed your chin. “look at me,” he barked. “now say it again.”
you met his eyes. “thank you, haechan. for letting me suck your cock.”
haechan smiled. “good girl.” he fixed his clothes. “i expect breakfast tomorrow.”
“yes, haechan.”
“and you need more practice, but not tonight. we’ll work on it some more later.”
“okay, haechan.”
satisfied, he walked away.
you woke late. most days you would have set an alarm to gather you out of your sleep, but you must have been so tired last night that you’d forgotten. you scrambled out of bed, making a quick effort of washing up before you scurried downstairs to the kitchen. this would be one of those days where haechan wanted an entire meal instead of just coffee.
that said, you started with his coffee first, then hurried to get every ingredient out of its place. maybe haechan would wake up late too. maybe he wouldn’t notice.
you were pulling a pan out of the cabinet when you heard footsteps descending down the stairs. your heart raced.
haechan called out your name. you couldn’t even see his entire body yet, but you could hear him. “why don’t i smell bacon?”
“i’m… i’m working on it,” you said, glancing over at the raw bacon on the counter.
“you’re working on it.” far too soon, haechan made it downstairs and crossed his arms when he saw you standing there, nothing going except the coffee. “shouldn’t you be about done by now?”
you couldn’t meet his eyes. “i woke up late.”
“you woke up late.” haechan laughed. “you woke up late?”
you nodded, looking at the floor.
your shoulders went cold when he began to approach you. he seized your face abruptly and made you look at him. “can you not do one simple thing? you think a man wants a wife who can’t even have his breakfast ready when he wakes up and his dinner ready when he gets home?”
“no,” you whispered, eyes blurring with shame. “i’m sorry, haechan. it won’t happen again.”
he smacked your face, the same side that he’d struck last night. “see that it doesn’t,” he said. “how many times do i have to tell you? where do things with no value go?”
your voice was a whimper. “in the trash.”
“and are you trash?”
“no, i’m not trash...”
“as long as you’re a part of my family, damn right you’re not,” haechan said. he released you. “pour me a cup of coffee.”
so you did.
after haechan had had his coffee, he took your face in his hands and asked, “you know i only do this because i love you, right?”
you sniffled. “really?”
“of course,” haechan crooned. he brushed the tears from your eyes. “why would i bother trying to fix you if i didn’t love you? i want what’s best for you, baby. and sometimes what’s best for you is a little discipline. i don’t know what you would do without me. no one else is going to be this patient with you. the rest of the world will you chew you up and spit you back out.”
you nodded. “i know.”
“good. now dry your eyes and get back to work, okay?” he went to go sit at the island.
that day made you realize that you couldn’t afford to keep making mistakes, especially ones that you were beyond capable of preventing. to be the best that you could be, to truly live in your father’s image, you had to go above and beyond in exceeding expectations.
it would make your father proud. it was making your mother proud too, and you had thought she was impossible to please. and it made haechan proud, as your brother and as your teacher, the lines blurring as they should when it came to the realization of the perfect girl. at times, nothing mattered more.
over the coming weeks, as the responsibilities came and went and came and went again, you found yourself drawn back to those words he’d said, like a vessel that wants to drift away but is anchored where it floats. you know i only do this because i love you. it had been so long since you heard anyone say that. your father not since his passing, your mother not since god knows when.
i only do this because i love you. you hadn’t known, but now that you did, the thought kept to you like a spirit housed to a man. there was such strangeness. you had never before thought words of that nature would come from haechan and onto you, but perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought. but things were different than they had been some months ago. did he change, or did you change? did you become a person deserving of love, or did he become a person willing to express it?
you supposed it mattered little now. i love you. you had his love, his care, and you knew what you had to do to maintain it. now that you knew you had it, you would do whatever it took to keep it. no price was too high.
after that day, you began practicing to please haechan in the future so that you would be less of a disappointment. you ordered a toy so that you could train your throat to take him better. it was hard at first. every time you did it your mouth instinctively wanted to gag. but you had to perfect it, you had to get it right so that you would be perfect for him.
you practiced arching your back in the mirror, wanting to get the curve of your spine just right. you practiced perfecting your moans so that they were loud and breathless enough for his ears. you spent hours analyzing pornography to enact the things you saw other women do. the next time haechan took you, you had to be the very best you could.
failure was not an option.
there were weeks before chaewon finally had enough time to fit you in her schedule, and when the rolled around that you knew she would be coming over, you were terribly excited.
she was about twenty minutes out when haechan entered your room and came up behind you where you were bent over your bed, scrolling. “i need something from you real quick, baby,” he said, his hands drifting underneath your skirt.
“hyuck, no,” you said softly. “chaewon’s gonna be here soon.”
clearly it was the wrong thing to say. “no?” haechan repeated. “no?”
you swallowed. “i only meant…”
he didn’t care to hear your explanations. “did you just tell me no?”
“haechan, please, i…”
“i think you’re confused about who’s in control here,” haechan said. he spun you around to face him. “do i belong to you?”
“no….”
“do i answer to you?”
you sniffed. “no, haechan…”
“so then why the fuck—” he started, his face getting closer to yours. “—do you think you get to tell me no?”
“i don’t think that, haechan, i-i made a mistake, i’m sorry-”
“you’re the fucking mistake if you think you have the power to tell me what i can or can do. if i want to fuck you right now, i will. if i want to fuck you in front of chaewon, i will. if i want to fuck you on the streets of tijuana and make you a public spectacle, i fucking will.”
your eyes burned.
his hand wrapped around your throat and tightened there. “if you hang out with your friends, that’s because of me. if you wear a pretty dress you like, that’s because of me. if you get married, that’s because of me. if you breathe, that’s because of me. do you understand? nod if you do.”
you nodded your head urgently, eyes wide.
haechan released your throat. “good. now turn around.”
he took you there against your bed. it hurt badly, but you knew that you deserved it, so you didn’t complain, and when he was done, you silently retreated to the shower to wash away the traces of what had happened from the eye, even if you could still feel the ache within you.
your neck bruised from where he had seized it into his hand, and that was something that wouldn’t simply wash away with water. you changed into a turtleneck to conceal it, fixed your hair, and made yourself smile. this was how he would want you to look.
chaewon looked even prettier than the last time you saw her. “my brother’s getting married,” she announced when you both got settled in your room.
“really?”
she nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “yes, really! it’s official as of last night. he really likes rosie.”
“i couldn’t tell,” you said. jaehyun had been with her for the better part of eight years, and only now did he think to drop on one knee. “i mean, what took him so long?”
“i mean, my brother is a little different than most guys. he takes stuff slow. that’s his thing.” chaewon shrugged. “the guy’s a total romantic.”
“i mean, but don’t you think that’s weird?” you asked. “if a guy waited eight years to propose to me, i’d think he was ashamed of me or something.”
“if he was ashamed of her, he wouldn’t marry her at all,” chaewon told you. “or meticulously pick out what ring to propose to her with, or where to do it, or rehearse his lines in his room every day for weeks in advance.”
“i guess,” you conceded. “i just think that’s a long time.”
“forever’s a long time too, and that’s how long people hope to be married,” chaewon said. “what’s an eight year slice of forever?”
“you say things so weirdly.”
“it’s a talent of mine,” chaewon chirped. “you’re invited, by the way. obviously. your plus one can be whoever you want, but i really hope you bring haechan.”
you rolled your eyes. “give it up to god, chae.”
“i can’t!” she clasped her hands together. “please, please, please? for me? i really want him there.”
“why? it’s not even your wedding.”
“obviously,” she agreed. “if it was my wedding, he’d be there as the groom.”
your stomach clenched. “but like… what do you even like about him? you can’t just marry him because you think he’s handsome.”
“he is so handsome,” chaewon said dreamily. “but he’s also very witty and intelligent. i like talking to him. you don’t understand the importance of good conversation, of talking to someone who knows how to respond to you and meet you where you are.”
he was witty. sometimes. “so… you like him because he’s handsome and can hold a conversation?”
“and he’s a perfect gentleman,” she breathed.
“i guess that’s reason enough.”
chaewon grinned. “and if you invite him as your plus one, i might get the chance to get to know him even better.”
“our brothers barely even like each other,” you reminded her. why, you had no idea, but they just never seemed to click as well as you and chaewon had. “why would my brother even go to jaehyun’s wedding?”
“because you’re gonna ask him nicely,” she retorted. “please?”
you exhaled a breath. “i’ll mention it to him later.”
“yay!” chaewon threw her arms around you. “you’re the bestest best friend ever.”
the day passed in a blend of talking, gossiping, and laughing. before you knew it, you had all but forgotten the incident earlier, and remembered what it felt like to be alive, even if for a short while.
at night, you and chaewon showered, and fell asleep together in your bed.
it must have been late when you suddenly woke again with a sudden thirst. you rolled over in your bed and felt the emptiness beside you and remembered that chaewon was supposed to have been there. maybe she’s gone to the bathroom.
you opened the door and made for the stairs. but as you started the descent, you started to hear… noises. strange noises. noises that were unfamiliar in their familiarity.
“shh, baby,” you heard haechan’s voice whispering. “you don’t want to wake her, do you?”
you couldn’t see chaewon at all, but you faintly heard her say something that sounded like, “no, i’m sorry. you just feel too good.”
haechan chuckled. “don’t be sorry. just be quiet.”
your chest was so tight you thought you might die.
their voices might have been quiet, but their bodies weren’t. you could hear the sound of him driving into her, of her hands scrambling for purchase, of their breathing finding a rhythmic sync, of haechan taking a pleasure that had nothing to do with you.
and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.
it was too much. you forced yourself to turn away and creep back up the stairs as quietly as you had come down. you returned to your bedroom and threw the blankets over yourself, your pillow dampening bit by bit.
chaewon was chipper the next morning, very chipper. before she left, she offered to help you make breakfast for haechan. you waited to see if she would mention their tryst, but she didn’t at all.
it was supposed to be a secret then. something between her and him that you weren’t in on, that you weren’t a part of.
when she left, you went to your bathroom and began to wipe off the concealer you had used to hide the bruises haechan had given you from her. they were darker than they had been yesterday. she didn’t want him. you knew that to be a certainty. if she knew what it truly was like to be his, beyond marveling at his handsome face and witty words and willingness to pull out a chair here and there, she would crumble like a house in a tropical storm.
but you, on the other hand, were strong and enduring. you could take it. you could take anything he gave you, not just when it was pleasant, but when it burned. you could take it and know that it was beautiful, that it was a display of love, strength, and growth.
chaewon had been born shining. she had no idea what it was like to be pressed into a diamond, to earn everything beautiful about herself. she had no idea what it was like to be shaped by his hand. she had no idea what it was like to be his creation, to be exactly as he intended.
but you did. and that was why you knew no one else could satisfy him, even if he made the mistake of seeking out other temporary delights. no candy was as sweet as the one made purely by your own hand, because it was yours.
you knew you had displeased him yesterday, a slip of the tongue that would never happen again, but you had pleased him the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. you planned to do so for eternity. haechan, forever yours, you, forever his, in a condition of perpetual devotion.
and forever started today. “hello?” came the voice on the other end of the phone, gruff and confused.
“hi, jeno,” you sang.
“this is a surprise,” jeno murmured. you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “change your mind about me?”
“not at all, no,” you said. “do you think my friend chaewon is pretty?”
“chaewon,” he repeated. “do i think she’s pretty? i think she’s gorgeous, everyone knows she’s gorgeous. why?”
“what if i told you that she leaves bible study every wednesday at eight, stops at becky’s at eight twenty, gets gas at eight thirty, and she’s home by nine.”
there was a lull of silence. “why are you telling me that?”
you continued, “she has a bad habit of looking at her phone while she’s walking, she wears noise-cancelling while she’s waiting in becky’s up until the moment she gets back in her car, and sometimes she forgets to lock it.”
jeno said your name. “is this a fucking joke?”
“nope,” you chirped. “dead serious. she’s that stupid.”
“i thought she was your friend.”
“i thought she was too,” you said. “but i thought wrong.”
jeno laughed. he didn’t ask what happened. he didn’t care. “so, let me get this straight. you guys had a cat fight, and now you want me to… what? brutalize her in the becky’s parking lot?”
“i don’t care what you do,” you said, “as long as she suffers. deal or no deal?”
“damn,” jeno said. “i’ll think about it, princess. i gotta go, though.”
“think about it quickly.” you hung up. wednesday was approaching.
you didn’t agonize over whether or not he would do it. guys like jeno couldn’t resist themselves. instead you busied yourself with tasks around the house, keeping haechan happy, keeping him satisfied, keeping him yours.
the next time you saw chaewon was in the hospital. “what happened?” you asked as you came to her side, brows stitched.
“i was leaving becky’s,” she said, her voice small. she looked small. her lips and cheeks were bruised, and there were other marks scattered across her figure. and yet somehow she was still annoyingly fucking beautiful. “but then some guy came up behind me when i was leaving… and… and…” she couldn’t continue. her eyes became wet.
you squeezed her hand. “hey, hey. it’s okay. it’s okay. you’re safe now.”
her bruised lips were quivering. “it hurt so bad.”
“i know,” you whispered. “did you see what the guy looked like?”
chaewon shook her head. “i didn’t see anything. one second i was alone and the next he was there. i tried to get away but he was too strong. and the cameras out there haven’t been functioning in ages.”
“he won’t get away with this,” you told her. “do you understand that?”
chaewon nodded.
you smiled. “good. i have to go. my parents are coming back today and i want to be home before they do. i’ll come back to visit you again tomorrow. will you be okay?”
“i think so,” she whispered.
“alright. i love you, chae.”
“i love you too,” she whispered.
first problem taken care of. at home, you went straight to haechan’s room. the door was already open so you let yourself inside. “haechan?” you called.
haechan looked up from his phone. he had been sitting on his bed, scrolling. “hey. chaewon okay? she’s not in too bad shape, is she?”
“who gives a fuck?”
haechan paused. then he laughed, perhaps thinking it was a joke. “you…? i mean, aren’t you guys best friends?”
“not anymore.”
haechan tilted his head. “you guys get into a fight in the two seconds between her coming over and now?”
“i know what you did,” you announced levelly.
haechan was quiet a moment. “what are you talking about?”
“don’t do that, haechan. i heard you,” you said. “i heard you with her in the kitchen.”
haechan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “look-”
you cut him off. “i know i made a mistake. i know you were angry at me. i understand.” you stepped closer, shutting the door behind yourself as you entered the room entirely. “i know i deserved to be punished. but was what i did so wrong that you had to replace me?”
“sweetheart, i-”
“you didn’t do it to hurt me,” you said. “i know you didn’t, because you didn’t want me to know. if you wanted to hurt me, you would have wanted me to see. so then you must truly have meant to replace me, to find someone better than me…”
“if you would let me-”
“but she’s not better than me!” you snapped. “she’s not! and i wish everyone would stop treating her like she’s some perfect princess just because she smiles prettily when she’s hardly a real woman! a real woman wouldn’t fear giving birth! a real woman would trust god!”
you knew you were getting out of line, but you needed him to hear you. this was worth any punishment he could conceive.
“i shouldn’t raise my voice. strike me if you must,” you told him, standing in front of him now, between his legs, perfectly within arms reach. “if you would choke me, i’m ready.” you tugged your shirt over your head to give him better access to your throat. “but she doesn’t deserve you. she doesn’t have what it takes to be your woman. she wouldn’t do these things for you. i know because i’ve spent almost my whole life since first grade by her side and she’s always expected everything to be easy. she has no idea how to face anything she thinks might be hard.”
you brought his hand to your neck, where the bruises were fainter now, but still visible, the colors blooming across your neck. “she wouldn’t see this as what it is,” you whispered, not once looking away from his eyes. “a gift. a honor. a privilege. she would think it’s monstrous. but it’s not. it’s beautiful. it’s a milestone.”
you smiled. “that’s why i had to teach her a lesson.”
“baby,” haechan said slowly. “what did you do?”
“i had jeno pay her a visit.”
“what?”
you nodded. “please don’t be angry,” you whispered. “i did it for you.”
haechan’s hand didn’t fall away from your throat, but it was very loose. “for me?”
“yes. for you. for us. because i love you. because you said you loved me.”
“i do love you,” haechan said, running his spare fingers through your hair.
“so why did you do that?” you asked. your eyes were misty, and soon your cheeks were dampened. “am i not good enough? did i do something wrong? i can fix it, haechan, i swear. i can be better. you just have to tell me. i’ll do anything.” you dropped to your knees. “i can fix it, haechan,” you said again, peering up at him desperately. “let me fix it. please. i don’t want to be trash.”
“how do you plan on fixing it, baby?” haechan murmured.
“i’ll show you,” you said. you began to tug down his pants. “i’ll do better this time. i promise. i’ve been practicing, like you said.”
haechan looked genuinely surprised. “you’ve been practicing for me, baby?”
“yes,” you admitted. “i wanted to make you proud.”
“i’m so proud of you, my girl,” haechan said. he patted your head. “show me what you can do.”
my girl. his girl.
at first, you mirrored the last encounter together where he’d had you on your knees, kissing him through his boxers. he had liked that, you remembered. you spread your tongue along the fabric and sucked the head as if there was no barrier.
you continued that just long enough to get him worked up before doing away with the boxers and discarding them into oblivion, but you paid the head of his cock no mind. instead you dragged your tongue again now along his shaft, up and down, down and up. you heard his breath hitch, and that was all the encouragement you needed. tonight, you were determined to get this right. you couldn’t lose him to someone else, least of all her.
the next time you licked up his shaft, you started another descending path, except this time you were peppering sweet, soft kisses, a gesture that was tender and loving, more than he knew. your lips found their way from just shy of his head to his balls. you took one into your mouth gingerly, not wanting to overstimulate him.
“fuck,” haechan swore. “you trying to kill me, baby?” your giggles were stifled. while your mouth was preoccupied with that, you stroked his cock in your fist. he was so hard now, it never took long. you could feel the blood burning within your hand, his cock hot and stiff with excitement. that’s it. that’s how much he wants me. that’s how much he needs me.
whether he knew it or not, he needed you, just as you needed him. you could see it clearly now. the two of you were fated, and now you had reached a point where it was truly undeniable on your part, where the truth stood tall, a roaming giant, every resistance being crumbled underfoot. the past never mattered. you could forgive his sins if he forgave yours.
those days where you had not yet understood what it earnestly meant to be a woman, where you had believed he was a terror that some entity had cursed you with, those were the days of your naivety at its purest. it was like if chaewon had seen those marks on your neck; she would think they were some an immortal act, she wouldn’t realize it was a gift, a token of love, of care, of how much haechan wanted to see you prosper.
at last when you felt the growing tension in haechan’s body amass to a peak, you let yourself take the head of his cock into your mouth, though without any particular haste. haechan shuddered, the sensation worth the anticipation and then some. “oh, shit.”
seeing him react so strongly made your body burn with urges of its own, but those were secondary. what was paramount was making him understand, proving to him that you were the woman he had made of you.
“you taste so good, hyuck,” you briefly pulled away to tell him. “i missed your cock so much.” not a moment later, you were back to sucking him.
haechan groaned. “yeah? i can tell you miss it. you really have been—holy shit—practicing.”
you moaned around his cock, and it must have done something, because the noise that came out of him made your thighs tense.
“don’t stop,” haechan gasped. “fuck, just like that, baby, don’t stop, you’re so good.”
you were determined to unravel him, to please him more than anyone ever had and ever could, to stake your claim to the man you knew with your whole heart was yours by right, even if you’d never hear the words come out his mouth. this was evidence enough. the way his body responded to you, the things you were making him say, that was a power of its own, and power was the most important thing in this world.
and if men were the heads of power, but you had dominion over his body, what did that say about you?
haechan said your name. he rarely did, it was usually a petname, something sweet and meaningless, but this was yours. “god, i’m gonna fucking come.” it was fun to see his body speak for him, to watch it convey things that words like pleasure never really could. his hips jolted as his cum emptied inside your mouth, hot and salty and meant for you. even as that was happening, his hands were clenched into the sheets, and his voice was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.
you swallowed it all, not letting a single drop go to waste, and when you were done, you remembered your words. “thank you, haechan, for letting me suck your cock,” you whispered, meeting his eyes as you licked some of his release from your lips.
haechan blinked silently. then he laughed. “fuck. you’re so welcome, princess.”
you got up from your knees and sat on the bed. “can i ride you?”
haechan raised his brow, amused. “you think you can handle that?”
“i know i can.”
“confident,” haechan murmured. he lay back. “sure, ride me. but if you get tired and ask me to take control, i swear to god…”
“that won’t be a problem,” you promised.
haechan chuckled. “if you say so. grab a condom.”
“we don’t need it,” you said as you undid your bra and skirt. “i’m not afraid of the consequences. i’m not afraid of what it means to be a woman.”
haechan’s face fell. “baby, if you get pregnant, that could get us in a world of trouble.”
“i’m not afraid,” you insisted.
“and that’s brave,” haechan said, “but imagine what your mom would think.”
“i don’t care,” you blurted. “i want to marry you and have your babies.”
“whoa. okay,” haechan said, visibly reeling. “we can do that, i promise. after we’re married. deal?”
you nodded. “okay. deal.”
haechan exhaled a breath. “great. now go get a condom out of that drawer and show me how much you want my cock.”
you did as told, fetching a condom from the supply he had in his nightstand drawer. as you were rolling it down his shaft, you whispered, “can we pretend?”
haechan smiled. “yes, princess. we can pretend.”
you shed the very last of your clothes and mounted haechan’s lap. “i want your cock so badly, hyuck.” you sank down onto him, inch by inch, bit by bit. “don’t you feel it?”
haechan moaned. your pussy was gushing around his cock, wet and warm and tight. his hands went to your hips. “shit, babe. all that from sucking me off?”
you nodded. “i like making you feel good.”
haechan closed his eyes. “i like that you like making me feel good.”
nothing could have been better or more important. you would have done this every day if he so asked. you would have gotten on your knees for him, or perhaps your hands and knees, or your back, or bent over whatever surface he preferred that day, or mounted him as you were now, none of it mattered. you were a good woman, and so you could please him whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, however he wanted it.
surely chaewon couldn’t say the same. chaewon was just a pretty face. beyond that, she was empty. you pitied whatever man would realize that only after he had made her his wife, but that man would not be yours.
“do i feel better than her?” you asked.
haechan didn’t hesitate. “so much better,” he said. “i don’t know what i was thinking, baby. i could never replace you. you’re perfect.”
that warmed your heart. “you mean that?”
“of course, beautiful,” haechan said. “look at you. look how good you’re taking my cock right now. you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“uh huh,” you agreed. that’s right. i know what he likes.
“nobody’s ever made me feel the way you do,” he said breathlessly. “you were made for me.”
for you, by you. “i was made for you,” you echoed, bouncing on him harder. your boobs followed suit.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” haechan swore. he took your boobs into his hands, holding them, kneading them.
you smiled coyly. “you’re very handsome.” you liked the way he looked beneath you, his skin flushed, his chest heaving, his hair beginning to stick to his face as the lust made even a room as spacious as this one grow hot and stuffy. you liked the way his lips parted for breath, the way his eyes fluttered when the warm sensation of you got to be too much, the way his brows jumped when your pussy throbbed in response to his words.
it went beyond attraction. it satisfied you, assured you, and rewarded you all at the same time. it was your north star, that guiding light, the thing that let you know that for as long as it was bright you were not a failure.
“you feel so good,” you whimpered, your eyes fixed to his face. you stitched your brows together. “i love your cock, i love it, i love it so much! i don’t want anyone else, hyuck, just you, no one else matters like you do. i’d do anything for you.”
“anything?” haechan murmured.
you nodded. “anything, anything at all. you said i’m beautiful, but i’m only beautiful because you made me so.”
haechan groaned. “and don’t you forget it.”
“i won’t,” you promised. your skin was scorching, every breath more intense than the one before it. “i won’t forget. i’m in debt to you, i’ll repay it however you want me to.”
haechan reached up and grabbed your throat. “repay it by riding me like you mean it.”
your eyes widened. “yes,” you whispered, and immediately began to ride him faster.
haechan grunted. his grip on your hips tightened as you increased your pace.
“yes, yes, yes,” you moaned. your body was moving on top of his wildly, eagerly, desperately. it was as if he had something that no one else could give you, something that you couldn't even give yourself if you tried, but was still unique and purely your own, and no one else could taint it. something like a purpose.
haechan lay there, a dazed look in his eye as he watched you ride him like you were worshiping your new god, and in a way, that was exactly what you were doing.
“tell me it feels good, hyuck,” you said. “tell me i belong to you.”
“i can’t even put into words how incredible you feel,” haechan breathed. “you’re all mine, baby. all mine.”
“i want you to claim me,” you told him, peering down into his eyes. “i want you to show the whole world that i belong to you. breed me, hyuckie. fill me up with your love and show everyone that i’m yours.”
your words made him swear. “you’re asking for something real dangerous, princess, you know that?”
“i don’t care,” you insisted. “all i care about is you.”
“if i breed you, i’m not just gonna do it one time,” haechan said, tightening his chokehold just a bit. “i’m gonna do it again, and again, again, until your pussy has given me every last baby it can. you understand that?”
“yes,” you gasped. “i understand. i’ll give you as many as you want!” it truly didn’t matter to you. you had long accepted the inevitability of motherhood, and you would gladly produce as many babies as he dreamed. that was what you were meant to do, and that was what you would do. and what would say that you were haechan’s like his baby growing in your stomach, the proof of it growing larger and larger by the month until it was a truth that you could cradle in your hands?
you had dreamed of it so much lately, being the mother of haechan’s children, as many as he wanted. marrying him and bearing his name, as you never took on the lee name when your mother married in, too attached to that of your father’s. maybe getting a place of your own, somewhere with a view even better than the one here. raising your sweet little baby, something you and haechan would create together, while he officially took on his father’s position within the company.
nothing would have been sweeter. you would have given up anything for that. soon enough, it would no longer be a dream, but a reality. you imagined inviting chaewon to your wedding, making her watch as haechan swore a vow to you and not her, as he promised to love you until death did you part. you imagined her willing herself to be polite, forcing herself to say that she was happy for you as you had done tirelessly for so many years.
that day would be about you, not her. it would be entirely yours. you would be wearing a stunning dress, surrounded by your loved ones, walking to meet the love of your life at the aisle’s end, and the only thing wrong was that your father would not be there to hand you off.
but you wouldn’t let that ruin anything. because the wedding itself would be proof that you had done it, that you had become the woman he always knew you would, and that was what mattered. then you and haechan would be off to your honeymoon, and he would make love to you with no barriers, and you would give him a child, and everything would be perfect. “when do you think we can get married?” you asked him.
“uh, in a couple years,” haechan projected, loosening his hold on you. “i just have to get settled into the company first, sweetheart.”
you beamed. “my ceo,” you murmured. “whenever you come home stressed, i’ll make sure you come home to something to eat, and then i’ll suck your cock until you come down my throat.”
haechan’s dick twitched. “holy fuck.”
“or you can fuck me, if you’d prefer,” you said. “even if i’m asleep, even if i’m tired, i’ll be yours.”
“there’s no one else on this planet like you, you know that?” haechan asked.
somehow you smiled even wider. “likewise, hyuckie. and even if there was, i’d still choose you.”
haechan simpered. “you’d choose me no matter what, wouldn’t you?”
“yes,” you gasped, a particular nudge of his cock inside you stealing your breath for a moment. “you’re everything to me, haechan.”
“i know, baby,” he muttered. “i know.”
if you were already wet to begin with, you were dripping now, and that might not have been enough to accurately describe your state of arousal either; your pussy was leaking so much you could feel it dripping past your thighs and onto the sheets, staining his bed. and with how vigorously you were riding him, the sound of your bodies meeting was just as intense.
you had never gotten like that before, even haechan seemed amazed. “you’re so wet,” he whispered incredulously. “jesus christ. you’re fucking soaked. because of talking about babies?”
you whimpered. “please give me your cum, hyuck, i need it so bad, i want your baby, i want everyone to know you own me, that your cock was so deep inside me it made me see stars. please, please, please.”
“if you keep talking like that, i’m going to see stars,” he hissed.
you didn’t stop talking. partly because you knew he liked it, and partly because you were so far gone that talking deliriously was about all you could really do. you moaned loudly. “haechan!” you cried out. “please, i’m gonna come on your cock, i want us to come together, oh, please, please, please!”
your thighs had begun to ache from the effort of riding him so hard and for so long, but you paid it no mind. even when your body tired, you refused to stop. not before he was finished. you were stronger than that.
it was a good thing that the servants were returning tomorrow, and not a second before. you were being so loud that someone on the opposite wing would likely have been able to hear your cries.
“i’m gonna come,” haechan said, driving his hips up to meet your thrusts. “i’m gonna come, baby, fuck—”
he spilled, not into you, into the condom, but with such an intensity that you could almost have convinced yourself it didn’t matter. you felt the way his hands gripped your hips to anchor himself, the way his body convulsed beneath you, and you heard him cry out and shudder as the orgasm took over his body, as for a moment he surrendered all sense and all control to the ecstasy that scorched through every corner of his body.
that was what undid you, and as he was still coming down from that godly high your body had given him, you clamped down around his cock, chanting, “yes,” over and over again until your hips finally stilled.
the room was quiet for a moment, or close enough to quiet. your panting and the fan whirling was about all the noise you could hear.
you lay against haechan’s chest. “promise me you’ll always choose me,” you whispered.
“i promise, sweetheart,” haechan said softly, curling his arm around your waist.
the two of you stayed together like that, skin to skin, heart to heart. your eyes fluttered closed and you might have even slipped away if you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the hall. footsteps that had no reason to be on this corridor.
haechan sat up and patted your arm. “go in the closet. hurry up.”
you scurried away, plucking your clothes off the floor, and hid inside the closet.
haechan was shuffling around in his bed, hurriedly redressing himself from the sounds of it. that went on for a few moments until a knock sounded at your door that made you jolt.
“it’s open!” haechan called out.
“hey,” came his father’s voice. “we’re back. your stepmom went up to the room to get some rest, but i’d thought i’d come over and let you know.”
“cool,” haechan said. “nice trip?”
“fantastic. very beautiful place. beautiful girls too. you would have liked it.”
haechan laughed. the sound made your chest tighten. “oh, i’m sure.”
“where’s your stepsister?” your stepfather asked. “i peered in her room, but she wasn’t there.”
“uh, i don’t know. she left a little while ago. probably hanging out with chaewon.”
“chaewon is in the hospital.”
“yeah, i know,” haechan said. “she probably went to go see how she’s doing or something.”
your stepfather sighed. “you’re supposed to keep a rein on her.”
“i have,” haechan insisted. “didn’t you notice how pristine the house looked when you walked in?”
“i suppose so,” came his father. “alright. i’m gonna go lie down. that flight got the better of me. let your stepsister know we’re back.”
“will do.”
you heard the door click shut, and released the shakiest breath.
“you can come out now,” haechan said.
you stepped out the closet, still naked, your clothes in your hands. “keep a rein on me?” you echoed, smiling. “is that what you’re doing?”
“mmhm,” haechan hummed, pulling you back into his arms. “bend over.”
you draped yourself over his bed.
“see?” haechan threw his hand against your ass, making you cry out in surprise. “that’s the rein.”
the next day, you went to see chaewon again, bearing gifts that your mother had gotten for her while on the trip. it seemed like more than the things she had given you, but you focused on dropping them off, saying a few nice things to your best friend, hovering beside her for a few moments, and then leaving. haechan was at home. you missed him already. you wanted to feel his body against yours, to hear him whisper praises in your ears.
as you turned to leave chaewon’s hospital room, jaehyun was there in the hallway. your eyes flickered in surprise but you smiled pleasantly. “hello, jaehyun. i’m sorry, i didn’t see you there.”
jaehyun’s face didn’t change. “i know what you did.”
your smile didn’t fade, not yet anyway, but you tilted your head, brows stitching together. “i’m confused.”
“i know what you did,” jaehyun repeated. “you hurt her.”
you laughed. “right. with what bits?” you gestured over your figure. “i think i’m ill-equipped. you’re not. maybe you did it.”
jaehyun drew near you so quickly you missed it in the time it took you to blink. “don’t you ever,” he started, “accuse me of something so egregiously foul and incestuous as that when you’re the one who’s sleeping with your brother.”
your shoulders went cold. how did he know?
“don’t you realize that your brother will fuck anything with a pulse?” jaehyun asked. “i’ve seen the way he looks at you, and i’ve seen the way you look at him. it’s disgusting.”
“you-”
“be quiet,” jaehyun hissed. “when i came to see her last night, she was crying. i asked her what was wrong. she said, ‘god has punished me for my sin.’ i told her, ‘that’s nonsense, chaewon. what did you do?’ she said, ‘i slept with someone before i was married.’ obviously, i was not happy to hear this, but she was going through enough, so i simply asked her, ‘chaewon, who was it?’ she avoided my eyes, she wouldn’t look at anything but the tv. finally, she said, ‘haechan.’”
“what does that have to do with me?” you asked.
“everything,” jaehyun said, glowering. “you’ve always wanted to be her. chaewon’s too blind to realize it, she only sees the best in people. but you have always resented her for having everything you didn’t. and when she slept with your precious brother, well, that was the last straw for you.”
“you have no proof of this,” you said. “stop wasting my time with theories.”
“let’s see if your parents will think it’s just a theory.” jaehyun turned and walked away.
needless to say, when you walked into the main room, you knew the day was far from over.
everyone was joined on the couch: your mother, who looked distraught, your stepfather, who looked distressed, and haechan… who just looked distant.
when your mother saw you, she called your name. “come sit. now.”
your heart thudded, but you had braced yourself for anything they could throw at you. you were prepared to fight.
“jaehyun says that you set up that poor incident that happened to chaewon,” she said worriedly. “did you do that?”
well, your cat was out of the bag. “yes.”
your mother furrowed her brows. “but why? she’s your best friend, and she’s a good girl.”
“she’s a stupid cunt and she has no idea what it takes to be a woman. she thought she deserved him,” you blurted.
she looked taken aback. “so it’s true then.” she grasped her dress. “you and haechan have… a relationship.”
“yes,” you confirmed proudly. “we love each other.”
scoffing, your stepfather said, “this- this is despicable. haechan, she’s your sister.”
haechan said nothing.
your mother sighed and began to massage her temple. “i don’t understand how something like this could happen. i knew you two were getting closer, yes, but for heaven’s sake, i thought you were just finally bonding.”
“we have bonded,” you insisted.
“you have sinned. there is nothing holy about this joining. to lay with another man before marriage, and not only that, but your brother…”
you almost rolled your eyes, “he’s my stepbrother. we’re not related!”
“you need to watch your tone,” she said, pointing her finger at you.
“you don’t understand,” you whispered. “haechan and i love each other, and we’re going to get married and have children together.”
your mother looked like she was going to faint. she was gripping the pad of the chair for dear life. “jesus christ. what did you just say?”
your stepfather barked, “then you will have disgraced our entire family. do you have any idea the shame that the news of this affair would bring to our names? we would be a laughing stock in the media. we would lose investors. the company would be in shambles!”
your mother reached for your arm. “this must stop now.”
“no! can’t you hear me? we’re in love. we’re in love. and i won’t let you take that away from us!”
“are you out of your ever loving mind?” she snapped. “you cannot be in love with him, he is your brother. and you sure as hell cannot marry him. mark my words, no one will bless it.”
“yes i can! he said so himself. he said we’ll get married when he gets settled within the company.”
“settled within the company,” your father echoed. “there will be no company to settle into if this were to happen, do you hear me? i wanted to come home, relax, announce my retirement and pass let my son take my place. instead i’m bombarded with this utter nonsense. what’s with all this talk of marriage anyway? haechan has never shown interest in marrying any of the girls i’ve paired him up with.”
“haechan likes women with value,” you told him firmly.
“value!” your stepfather laughed, as if there was something funny that you were missing there. “is this a joke or something?” he turned to face his son, who had been silent on the matter thus far. “haechan, do you want to be ceo or not?”
“yes,” haechan finally spoke up.
“then you have to stop this incestuous nonsense. i will not have you ruining the reputation of the company i’ve spent decades building up from nothing because of some silly fling you decided to have with your stepsister of all people. i can turn a blind eye to many things, but this will not do.”
to your horror, haechan nodded his head. “i’ll stop. i swear, dad, on everything, i’ll stop.”
relieved, your stepfather sighed. “good. that solves that issue. we’ll announce it today, and the party will be on the third sunday of the month.”
you gawked. “what?”
your stepfather stood, not so much as looking at you. “i have business to attend to. come find me in my study if it’s important.” he started down the hall.
haechan met your eyes, but he didn’t say anything to you, and they were only on you for a fleeting moment before he went after his father. “actually, dad, i wanted to talk to you about the company. i had some ideas and i thought i would run them by…” his voice trailed off the further he went.
you sat there, blinking rapidly, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “what…”
your mother turned sympathetic. “oh, honey. i’m sorry.”
“he lied,” you whispered. only last night, he had held you in his arms and told you that he would always choose you. he had promised.
she didn’t ask what about. she just held you. “i know, darling,” she said. “believe it or not, i know how you feel. you think you’ve done your very best to make him happy, but something else comes along and then that something else takes priority. and you wonder what you did to make him love you less.” she patted your back. “that’s just how they are.”
“why?” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks.
“i wish i knew, honey. i wish i knew.”
over the next couple of weeks, you barely saw haechan, which was easy given the size of the house, but still jarring when you had spent the past month glued to his side, fulfilling his every need. and now he didn’t need you. you had exhausted your value.
you just didn’t understand it. did all that time together mean nothing to him? every word, every touch, every promise? one day, he was holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever seen, and the next he tossed you away like… like trash.
never had you ever felt more embarrassed. he had been so quiet, his eyes darting back and forth between whoever was speaking as you vehemently defended your love, while he didn’t say a word. not when it mattered most. not when it was time to stand for you.
you had officially become worthless, and you weren’t even sure you knew why. after everything with chaewon went down, you could have sworn that you had made it right. that he had chosen you. that you had proved to him you could be everything he wanted and more. that you would do anything for him. but he didn’t want it.
the other day, you had tried to send a text to chaewon, but it didn’t go through; jaehyun must have told her the truth. now you were truly and utterly alone.
you felt alone too. on the second week before the party, you barely stepped out of your room altogether. all you did was lay in bed and weep, while haechan was probably planning what initiatives he was going to take as the new chief executive. your mother came to your room to check on you, but you didn’t feel like talking. she had to make the maids send up your meals, but you barely touched them at all.
it wasn’t food you were hungry for. you could barely eat or sleep. it was haechan. i thought he loved me, you said to yourself, alone in your mind, a dark, cold void where every thought reverberated. he said he loved me. he said he would always choose me. he said there was no one else like me. he said we would get married and then start a family. he said i was perfect.
you must have replayed that night in your mind over and over a million times since it happened. it had been magical, the most magical. all your hard work and studying had paid off, and it was the most confident you had ever felt. it had given you something to believe in, something larger than just yourself.
but it was over now, dead and gone, and to never come back, as far as haechan was concerned. he had given that up, because when faced with the choice of you or the company, he had chosen the latter, sacrificing your love, your devotion, your faith. sacrificing everything he had told you to be.
the bruises that had been on your neck were mostly gone now, but you could still see them clearly as if they’d never left, as if it was just yesterday that his hand had been around your throat. you wished he’d do it again, just to show you that he still cared. the longer he was away, the more you started to forget what it was like to feel his hands on your body.
you missed him. you felt like you hated him, and yet you missed him so much. you missed the warmth of his body beside yours, you missed the way his fingers would thread your hair, you missed the way his voice sounded when he was right there, and you missed the way it felt when he said something that made every punishment feel like it was worth it. but even if you couldn’t get that, you would have settled for his anger, his frustrations, his violence, his cruelty.
it would have been better than nothing. right now you had nothing but silence and distance, and you were certain that someone tearing you open from limb to limb would still hurt less.
the day of the party, you almost had to be forced out of bed. you wanted to stay home and rot, but your mother said it would reflect poorly on the family if you were absent. resigned, you did your makeup, covering up the days of sobbing, and donned a gorgeous red dress that haechan had bought you months ago.
as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, all you could thing about was that day at the mall. you look the best in bold colors, he had said. well, here you were in red, the boldest of them all. today, he would see you. today, you would make sure it was impossible for him not to.
the venue was rippling with businessmen and their ladies, as to be expected. you sat at the high table with the rest of your family, as to be expected. normally at events like this, you would chaewon by your side to help you through the monotonous segments… but that ship had sailed.
it was entertaining enough. you mostly watched haechan, who was socializing deftly, here one second, and there the next. he was very charming. everyone looked glad to hear whatever it was he was saying. they were putting their trust in him, their time and their faith, just as you once had. you all are so silly, you thought. he’s a liar. he lies. he’s lying to you right now.
the future of greatness was in his hands, he had said. his father might as well have put his money in a safe and melted it.
it was amazing, though, how haechan could say things he didn’t mean with such conviction. he could make a believer out of anyone. that silver tongue of his could forge promises like no one you had ever seen and say them almost as though he truly believed them himself. you were convinced that it had to have been some kind of superpower.
or maybe it was insanity of some kind, but regardless, it made you realize that maybe this whole time you hadn’t really known him at all.
speeches were given and forgotten. there was food and drinks and laughter. so much laughter. people were just laughing for laughter’s sake, and you were sitting there trying to hide the fact that your entire world had been upturned. somehow you felt even lonelier here than you had alone in your bed.
“now this was no hand-me-down,” your stepfather was saying in the middle of his speech, his hand clasped on haechan’s shoulder. “my son has this position because despite all odds, he’s proven that deserves it more than anyone.”
everyone was cheering and clapping. you clapped your hands together too, watching attentively. “that was beautiful,” you said, standing up. “would you make if i said a few words of my own?”
your stepfather’s smile tightened ever so slightly, but haechan’s face didn’t seem to change at all. your mother reached for your arm, but you were determined.
“i won’t be long, i promise,” you added.
“of course. why not,” your stepfather replied begrudgingly. “everyone, my beloved stepdaughter would like to say a few words to celebrate her stepbrother’s success.”
more cheers, more laughter, but it all faded as you went up to accept the microphone. as you stood beside haechan, the closest you had been to him in weeks, you saw your stepfather whisper something to one of his men, who then proceeded to take a position not too far from you, his eyes watching and waiting.
“first of all, i just want to start off by saying congratulations, brother,” you told him, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m very happy for you. it seems that you’re finally getting everything you wanted, and you know what? you deserve it.”
haechan looked so composed, so proper. “thank you, sister.”
glancing out into the crowd of people before you, you continued, “when i heard that my brother here would be the new chief executive of our family’s excellent company, i was not surprised. who would be a better candidate than the man with this much grit? i think he could turn a tree into a diamond if he really wanted to.” everyone laughed. “i believe that the future of the company is in amazing hands. haechan is the kind of person who knows what he wants and how to get it. once he has a vision for something, he will mold it and shape it in his palms until there is nothing but the best version of it.” you could feel haechan’s gaze on you from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t glance at him. “it’s truly inspiring to watch. i feel as though i’ve learned a lot from him. to never accept anything but the best for myself. to always strive for perfection and aim to have what the next person doesn’t. that’s what truly makes this company great - the ability to distinguish it from its competitors, to exist in a realm of its own. if you like what my father has done with the company so far, then you should get excited. because lee haechan is going to make it even better. thank you.”
as everyone clapped and hollered, you handed the microphone back to haechan and returned to your seat without a backwards glance. you had said what you needed to say.
“let’s give my sister another round of applause for those kind words,” haechan said, smiling, but there was no depth to it. “isn’t she the absolute sweetest? even though she exaggerates a little bit. making me sound like ten times the man i am.” laughter rang out in the room.
that might have been the first thing he’d said all night with some truth to it.
the party dragged on with no end in sight, and you found yourself missing chaewon once more, the feeling harder to drown than you thought it would be. you supposed it was only natural. she had been a close companion of yours since the two of you were very young. you wondered if she missed you too, or if she hated you now, just as you hated haechan.
you were nursing a drink in an empty corridor to get away from the noise when you heard footsteps approaching. oh, brother, you thought.
a male voice you didn’t recognize said your name. “hey. that was a wonderful speech back there. you have a way with words.” when you turned around, you had to look up to see his face. he towered over you, tall and imposing. he smiled and outstretched his free hand. in the other he was holding a glass of champagne. “i’m johnny.”
you already knew that. you may not have recognized his voice, but you recognized his face. johnny suh. his father used to do business with your stepfather before he retired and had johnny take over, much like what was happening with haechan now. he was also one of the shareholders. you gave him your name and shook his hand, though it was unusual for men to do that with the women they met.
“thank you for coming to celebrate my brother,” you said politely.
“of course,” johnny replied, pleasant as one could be. “my father is hoping i do business with him. but i thought i might have sensed some… tension between the two of you a moment ago.”
“tension?” you echoed, feigning ignorance.
johnny shrugged. “well, i don’t know. i just thought it was peculiar that your stepfather had placed someone on your end of the platform. like he wanted to be prepared in case you said something… improper.”
your smile was tight. “my stepfather is a cautious man, is all.”
“i’m sure,” johnny said. “i didn’t mean to pry. i just thought that maybe there was strife, or maybe you wanted the position for yourself.”
so little had you ever even considered that an option that you were certain he was jesting, but when you laughed, he didn’t join in. “you’re serious?”
johnny didn’t even blink. “i’m not a man intimidated by a woman’s success. if you did take it, i think you would do well. it’s about time that more women assume positions of power in this world.”
he was speaking of foreign, forbidden concepts. “that sounds… scary.”
“of course it does,” he agreed. “but if there’s no pioneer, it’ll never happen. the grounds will never flourish. my father taught me a lot about business, but my mother taught me about life and judgment. my father was always focused on the end result, but my mom saw how to get there.”
you took that in. “how old are you?”
“thirty-one this year.”
looking at his hand, you saw there was no wedding band on his finger. “you’re not married.”
“yes, society tends to be a bit more forgiving to men in that regard,” he replied, chuckling. “do you have any plans to get married soon?”
the thought of getting married stirred up some odd feelings, and memories, within you. “no. well, my stepfather has a list.”
johnny laughed. “no one wants to marry off their father’s list. mine has one too. my next date is still postponed indefinitely.” he took a sip from his champagne glass. “isn’t there any guy you like?”
“not anymore,” you murmured.
that made johnny smile. “then can i take you on a date?”
well, he was very forward. you did like men like that. it had been a long time since you’d gone on a date with a guy, and maybe going somewhere without traces of haechan would finally expel him from your mind. “sure.”
“perfect,” johnny chirped. “would you prefer to be indoors or outdoors? vanni’s has some of the best italian food i’ve ever had, but the pier is a great place to watch the sunset.”
outside. you needed to be outside again, connect with nature or something. that month alone with haechan had felt like an eternity, and the only people you had seen that weren’t him were chaewon and one of the foreign investors. “the pier sounds lovely,” you decided.
“the pier it is,” johnny said. the lighting in the hallway made his eyes sparkle. “if you give me your number, we can arrange a time that works best for you. wear comfortable shoes.”
you exchanged numbers and he promised to text you, wishing you a good night before pardoning himself, and you found yourself wondering what you had gotten yourself into just now, but a part of you wanted to untangle yourself from anything that was tied to haechan. the other so badly wished you could go into his arms and be held by him and take in his warmth.
but that was not an option anymore. he had given it up, he had deemed it worthless in the face of his father, the place where it might have mattered most. if he could choose other things, then perhaps you could choose something that wasn’t him as well.
that being said, you still couldn’t be certain if you had made a good choice. you couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. you laid in bed that night, the dress and makeup gone, alone with your raw self, or at least whatever was left of her. you had relied on haechan, in more ways than you knew. in trying to build a structure around him, you inadvertently built a system that upraised him as the very sun that kept life as you had known it together.
it never seemed like a bad thing. even now, it hardly seemed like a bad thing; it felt like you were lost, like you were drifting, and you needed him to keep you anchored, but he was gone now, so you were trying to do it yourself, clumsily, spitefully, desperately, but it was just too different.
tonight of all nights, you really missed chaewon. it was your fault she wasn’t there, you knew that. maybe everything was your fault. you had never regretted anything more; you honestly felt at least three shed skins away from the person who made that choice, removed enough to feel remorse, but not so much that you didn’t still feel angry at the thought of haechan with another.
and yet even that had wounded you less than him choosing the company, because he hadn’t even tried. maybe if he had put in some effort, you could forgive that, but he had sat there like it had nothing to do with him, like it wasn’t his life, like it wasn’t yours.
you weren’t sure when you fell asleep. you never really were. every night you lay awake, thinking about haechan, crying more often than not, and it felt like mere seconds between then and the second you roused, not even remembering the moment that sleep took you.
the cycle, unbroken as it had been for weeks, persisted even into the day of the date you were going on with johnny. you debated whether or not you even wanted to go, but you knew that what you were doing now was not helping, so you made yourself get up. it was just a few hours. the bed would be there when you returned.
concealing the dark circles under your eyes made you think of concealing the bruises haechan had left on your throat even though those were long gone now and you realized this was not too different. they were marks haechan had left on you, even if one was more indirect than the other.
you made yourself pretty, the way he would want you to be, even if it wasn’t for him, even if it was for another guy. you remembered what it felt like to get his approval for an outfit. for a second you almost let yourself wonder if he would approve of this one, but you had to finish getting ready before johnny got here.
the final look was so different from the version of you drowning in bed that you felt like you were posing, an imposter in your own skin. your perception of reality was fragile lately.
johnny picked you up yourself. he was outside in a car waiting and got out to open the passenger door for you when he saw you coming down the steps. “hey,” he greeted.
“hi,” you said back.
his eyes seemed to take you in, and you knew your efforts weren’t for nothing. “you look beautiful.”
“thank you.” he didn’t look bad himself. johnny was an attractive guy, and he had dressed with the weather in mind. “you look rather spiffy yourself.”
“well, i tried for you.” once you were inside, he shut the door behind you and went around to get in the other seat.
you watched him buckle his seatbelt. “you didn’t have to do this. you could have just sent a driver.”
johnny glanced over at you, not yet starting the car, and smiled. “i find that what a man can do matters less than what he chooses to do. besides, i have a functioning car and an active license. what’s the harm?”
you hummed. “i guess that’s true.”
“shall we go?”
“we shall,” you said, adjusting your seat a bit.
you didn’t talk much on the way there, but it didn’t feel awkward. sometimes it was nice to just look out the window and watch as you passed everything by. there was a world out there, and it was vast, parts of it unknown.
at the pier, johnny bought you both drinks and you ambled along the boardwalk together. “so,” he started. he had matched his strides to yours. “tell me about yourself.”
you didn’t know where to start. it felt like there was so much you could say. “what do you want to know?”
johnny shrugged. “anything. what do you like to do in your free time? where do you see yourself in ten years? what kind of men are you into? were you really going to marry off of your father’s list?”
you pondered each of those things before you spoke, and every answer seemed to go back to haechan. “the list… um, i don’t know. i guess i never really thought about who i would marry.”
that seemed to amuse johnny. “isn’t that all anyone ever thinks about?”
“i thought about getting married, yes. but not really who.” it was a lie now, but once it had been true.
“so you wanted to get married just so you could say you did it?” johnny asked. he didn’t seem to mean anything by it.
“i mean, that’s… putting it bluntly,” you murmured. “but i guess it’s something like that.”
johnny’s voice was soft. “that doesn’t sound like you’re living for yourself.”
“well, a woman lives for her family,” you said. that was what you had always been taught.
johnny changed the subject. “well, what about the other questions? what do you like to do?”
you had spent the past couple of weeks becoming a corpse in your bed, and the weeks before that submitting to haechan’s every whim, or practicing how you would in the future, so you weren’t sure how to answer that question either. “um, if there’s nothing to do around the house, i might hang out with my friend chaewon. well, i did, but um… anyway, i… watch tv, i guess? i don’t have that much free time. what about you?”
johnny didn’t even think about it. “i like to do all sorts of things. try out restaurants i’ve never eaten at, or an activity i’ve never done. i’m a pretty spontaneous guy.” he glanced down at you. “does that bother you? spontaneity?”
you didn’t know if haechan had been spontaneous or unpredictable or both. “i don’t think it’s a problem.”
johnny was pleased. “good. some people prefer routine, but i get bored easily, you know? i want to be with someone who has a sense of adventure.”
but i get bored easily. maybe that was it. maybe haechan had gotten bored of you. maybe he lost interest. “do you get bored of women as well?” you asked. you hadn’t mean to be that forward, but it came out before you could rein it back in.
that, on the other hand, made johnny pause. he spoke very carefully, “i think that there are certain traits i’m attracted to in a woman. her fierceness. her spirit. her resilience. those are the things that keep me interested. i think i wouldn’t approach a woman who didn’t display these traits in the first place.”
you had never really thought of yourself that way, but if he believed it, maybe it was true.
“what about you?” he asked. “what do you want in a man?”
you took a moment to think about that as well. it was something you didn’t always have the luxury of considering. for so long it had just been, this is the kind of woman i need to be. “maybe a man like my father. my biological father,” you whispered. “he was sweet. even when he was busy working, he made time for me. he made me feel special.”
“sounds like he was a good father,” johnny said.
your heart felt heavy. “he was.”
thankfully the rest of the date was lighter. johnny took you to a ton of different stores and you browsed through their inventory, pointing out things that looked cool or silly. you tried on a few different hats. johnny. there was live music playing and you stayed around for that as well.
something about it soothed you. you had always liked music, ever since you were very young. in high school you and chaewon had gone to so many concerts you could scarcely remember them all, but you remembered the way they had made you feel. there was nothing else like that in the world.
leaning against the railing, you watched as the sun began to sink down into the earth for the night, the sky blossoming with color. you could hear the sea beneath you, the water heaving back and forth, the waves crashing against the earth, devouring the bottom of the structure where you stood.
“i think i never really appreciated stuff like this,” you said quietly.
johnny hummed. “why not?”
“it didn’t seem like it mattered,” you said. “it seemed like everything else was bigger and more imminent. but maybe i had it backwards.”
“maybe.”
for the first time in a long time, the silence wasn’t so loud. it didn’t feel like your thoughts were haunting you, pulling you back into a dark abyss of emotions that kept you up at night. everything was just there.
when the sky turned dark, johnny decided he would take you home. you did speak a little bit in the car, but after a while it was just the radio and the gloomy, looming night. you liked it that way.
johnny helped you out of the car and led you up the doorsteps like a proper gentleman, even though it was utterly unnecessary. “i had a good time with you tonight,” he said.
strangely, you felt likewise. you didn’t know if it was because of him, or the environment, but nevertheless, you were glad you forced yourself out of bed that day. “i did too,” you said. “we should do that again.”
johnny was pleasantly surprised by the initiative. “do you have anywhere in mind?”
you thought about it. “there’s a restaurant my father liked,” you told him. “i’ll text it to you when i get inside.”
johnny nodded. “okay. i’ll be waiting.”
“have a good night, johnny.”
he reached out for your hand and kissed it. “you as well.” he walked back a few steps and watched you go inside before he left.
you didn’t run into anyone when you came in so you went straight to your bedroom and took a shower. you were moisturizing yourself when someone knocked on the door. “honey, it’s me. can i come in?”
you glanced up at the door. “yes, it’s unlocked.”
your mother entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. “how was the date?”
“he was different than i was expecting him to be.”
your mother tilted her head. “in a good way or a bad way?”
“i’m not sure yet,” you said. johnny had been nice enough. you just had a lot going on, and being back here made you remember everything.
“well, you have time to figure it out,” she said. she came to sit beside you on the bed. “do you want to go out with him again?”
“yes.” you knew that much.
she looked pleased. “good. that’s good. i’m glad you’re putting yourself out there and finding a man of your own. i started talking to your stepfather about arrangements.”
arrangements. well, johnny had picked a good time to ask you out. truthfully, it was the last thing you wanted. “mom?”
“yes, dear?”
“do you ever think about dad?” you asked. you knew she hardly talked about him, and you never mentioned him to her first, but today his memory was particularly strong.
she she didn’t answer immediately. it was a while before she finally said, “i try not to.”
you wondered why, but you didn’t ask. “i just feel like you moved on really fast. and i don’t know, i don’t think he deserved that.”
“i remember him one way and you remember him another,” your mother said. she stood up. “goodnight. get some rest. i want us all to have breakfast together tomorrow.”
you restrained yourself from groaning in disgruntlement. ever since you started locking yourself in your room for half the day, she had been trying to force these family meals. sometimes it would be breakfast and sometimes it would be dinner. and it was absolutely awful because haechan would always sit there as if he had never done anything wrong.
but it would be fine. you would get through it. because maybe that was what you did. you got through things.
day by day, you found yourself looking more and more forward to your next date with johnny. it had been a long time since you went to that restaurant you told him about. after your father died, it was like the world pulled you in the other direction, and everything that was his was so far away, part of another life you once had.
you almost wished you could go back to it. but you knew that was impossible, so the next best thing was to wrestle out of this one and start something new.
before you knew it, you were sitting before johnny, eating things that you used to eat, drinking stuff you used to drink. it was bittersweet.
after a while, johnny very gingerly asked, “can i ask when your father died?”
“like two years before my mom married my stepfather,” you said, looking down at your plate. if you closed your eyes, you could see him sitting there, talking about how much he liked the songs the band was playing.
you didn’t know if he was a mind reader or something, but he pressed, “do you think she moved on too fast?”
yes. maybe. i don’t know anymore. when you told her that you did, your mother had said something that confused you. you had no idea how she remembered him, or what that was supposed to mean. “it just feels like she was running from something,” you said. “and i didn’t feel like i really had time to process what happened before she married into this new family.”
“have you ever considered therapy?”
“no.”
“why not?”
“i never really thought about it,” you told him. “i guess i was worried about other things.”
“like getting married?” it was such a harmless question, but it felt like there was something he was getting at.
“i mean, yeah…”
johnny took a sip from his cup. “well, my mom says you can bury a body, but it’ll still be right there where you left it. you have to face those sorts of things.”
the conversation was getting heavy. maybe too heavy for a second date. “i like the music they play here,” you whispered. “the music they played at the pier was nice too.”
johnny smiled. “do you like music?”
you nodded. “yes. i used to sing in the choir. when i was little i watched my grandmother play the piano. i wanted to learn how to play it in college but i never had time.”
“you have time now,” he replied simply.
your brows furrowed a moment. that was true. it had seemed so small in the grand scheme of things, learning to play an instrument, but now there was really nothing holding you back. “i guess so.”
“i’d like to hear you sing some time,” johnny said with genuine interest.
you smiled timidly. “i think i’m a bit rusty, but i wouldn’t mind doing a tune or two. what about you? do you sing?”
johnny made a face, moving his head from side to side. “a little bit. i’m not whitney houston or anything but i can hold a note.”
you laughed. “i heard there’s a festival happening on the tenth. would you be interested in that?”
“are you asking me on a date?” johnny teased.
“i thought that was the point of this.”
“it is,” he said. “and for the record, i would love to be at this festival with you on the tenth. i’ll clear my schedule right now.”
“if you’re busy, it’s okay—”
“nope,” johnny interrupted, already reaching for his phone. “i’m calling my assistant and telling him to cancel everything i have scheduled for that day.”
you had already been smiling, but it somehow grew even bigger. “that’s really nice of you.”
johnny’s eyes raked over your face, your smile. “it’s what you do for a girl you like.”
something about that made your heart flutter in a way that felt forbidden, but you didn’t know why.
and if you thought that was a lot, then nothing could prepare you for when johnny walked you up the steps to your house like he had done on the first date, only this time asking, “can i kiss you?”
when you came to think of it, you weren’t sure if haechan had ever kissed you on the lips. he had kissed other parts of your body and held you in his arms, but he had never put his lips to yours, and you never knew how badly you wanted that until now. “yes,” you whispered.
johnny craned his head down so that his lips could reach yours. the kiss was soft, tender. in a way it felt like he was merely testing the waters, but it made a fierce heat spread through your chest, and when he pulled away, you felt light as a feather.
“was that okay?” he asked, taking in your face with concern.
“yes,” you said again, because you didn’t know what else to say. a smile broke out across your face.
“good,” he said, reluctantly stepping down. “good night.”
“good night, johnny.”
it was safe to say that the dates didn’t stop there.
you spent months going out with johnny, and the more you did, the less you thought about anyone else. when you were with him, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world, but not because you were alone. because he had a way of making everything else not matter.
the two of you did various activities together. the music festival was a blast, and he was tall, so he got good videos. you went bowling a few times, and that got super competitive. he even had the idea of taking dance classes, and it was the silliest thing, but you did it, and you enjoyed it. everything felt so easy.
the worst part was the waiting. sitting at home, knowing he was at work, knowing that it would be a while before he responded to your messages. but you always texted each other good morning and good night, no matter what. sometimes you texted him things anyway, if you really just had something to get off your chest, knowing that he would read it later.
it did finally give you the inspiration you needed to get out of bed and stop merely existing. you took up piano like you wanted, and the instructor came in a few times a week, helping you bit by bit.
you started sleeping more, and the dark circles went away. there were still hard times and harder thoughts, but you didn’t feel this unshakable sense of doom anymore. it felt like things were happening the way they were supposed to, and for the first time in a long time, you were doing things just because you wanted to do it.
that felt like a superpower you never knew you had. your mind was at ease more often that not, even though it could still be hard when you saw haechan and remembered the way things were. but you told yourself that the way things were was not necessarily the same as the way things should be.
one day, you went over to johnny’s apartment for the first time. “you have a nice place,” you said, taking in the sight of everything. it was neat, organized. the furniture selection was tasteful.
“thanks. perks of being a businessman,” he chirped. “may i interest you in a glass of pinot noir?”
you giggled. “yes, you may.”
the two of you sat at a table, drinking wine, talking about anything and everything under the sun. it felt comfortable. safe. you just came as you were, and he was okay with that.
one thing led to another, and you found yourself in bed with him. at first it was just kissing. his lips against your lips, then against your jaw, then against your neck. it made your breath hitch. then it was touching. he paused, asking if you it was okay, and his hands wandered more and more, his eyes glued to your face, searching your every expression for a hint.
at some point, you wound up naked. his lips had been everywhere, your face, your chest, your abdomen, but then his face was between your legs, and he said, “i want to make you feel good. tell me if you want me to stop.”
at first, you had started to go into your mind, but it was hardly ever a good place to be. you slowly eased into the moment and let yourself relax. and that was the best choice you could have made. when you came, he kissed you down there and said that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
you wanted to return the favor. he had said you didn’t need to, but you insisted; it would feel wrong if you didn’t give back. so begrudgingly he let you, and when you took him into your mouth, you pulled out every trick you knew to please him, because there was never the alternative of being mediocre.
johnny was very receptive. you liked the way his body reacted on its own, those responses raw and natural. you liked the way his voice sounded when he urged you on, saying things like, “fuck, just like that. you’re so good at that. how are you so good at that?” he had a steady hand in your hair as he held it behind your head.
when he came, you swallowed everything, your eyes fixed to his as you did. he looked like his soul had been dragged out of him, his eyes hazy, his chest heaving.
when you pulled away, you said, “thank you for letting me suck your cock, johnny.”
johnny blinked, like it took him a moment to process what you said, which was fair, all things considered. “what did you just say?”
you really hadn’t even meant to say it, but it was ingrained.
johnny was looking at you hard. “where did that come from? that’s really weird.”
your face burned. “i-i’m sorry, i thought you would like it.”
“don’t be silly. that’s nothing you need to thank me for,” he said. he pulled you off the floor, back up to the bed with him. “who taught you to say that?”
you didn’t know how he knew that, but your heart was racing. you had been hiding this truth from him for so long. you were afraid that if you told him, he would change his mind about you and everything you had would be nothing, and you couldn’t take another loss, you just couldn’t.
but you couldn’t lie to him either, so reluctantly you confessed as quietly as you could, “haechan…”
johnny’s brows furrowed together. “had he touched you?”
you swallowed. “yes… but i wanted him to!”
johnny put his pants back on and handed your clothes back to you. you were afraid he was going to make you leave, but he asked, “when did this start?”
“i don’t know. it was months ago,” you said. it felt like forever ago and just yesterday at the same time. “i wasn’t getting suitors, so i asked him to help me dress more attractively. he took me to the mall and bought me clothes. he also bought… lingerie. he told me to have it on and wait for him. and later that night he came in and we… were together.” your eyes watered. “i’m sorry. i understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. i know i was supposed to wait. he said i could lie, that my husband would lie, but i can’t do it. i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”
“stop,” johnny said, gentle but firm. “having sex doesn’t defile you. stop crying. tell me the full story.”
so you did. you told him about haechan and his friends. you told him about chaewon and the mall. you told him about the party, the vacation, what you saw in the kitchen, and how haechan had chosen the company over you. you told him what haechan had said, that if you couldn’t make him happy, you would make no man happy. that things with no value go in the trash. by the end of it, johnny’s face was grim.
“you do realize that that’s coercion and manipulation?”
“what?” you croaked. you didn’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.
johnny continued, “none of what you just told me is normal. you just told me that he took advantage of your grief and insecurities to make you consent to having sex with him, and that he physically abused you and let his friends abuse you as well.”
“he loves me. he said so,” you whispered, but you had already started to doubt that.
johnny grabbed you by the shoulders. his touch wasn’t rough, but you could feel the graveness of it. “a man who loves you will not put his hands on you. a man who loves you will not lie to you. a man who loves you will not make you perform sexual favors simply so that you can meet a friend and then become aggressive because you’re inexperienced. that is a man who is using you. that is a man who gets off on controlling you and eroding your sense of self.”
for some reason, that only made you cry more. you knew haechan was no good for you. you knew that he was a liar and he hit you and he was probably not a good person, but you had never been good at letting go. it was the single hardest thing in the world.
johnny’s eyes softened. he wiped the tears from your face with his thumb. “darling, he made it so that your self worth hinged on his validation to such an extent that whenever he got angry, you would blame yourself. you would think, ‘well, if i never messed up, he wouldn’t have hit me.’ but there’s no such thing as perfection, least of all to men like him. men like him don’t give you the space you need to mistakes and grow. they want to break you down so that there’s nothing left of you but what they want you to be. don’t let him break you down by believing his lies.”
“you don’t understand. at first, he was helping me…” you whispered.
“i understand how you might believe that, but it was never about helping you. he may have done things that you feel have benefited you, but it was always for his own gain.” johnny tilted your chin up. “why do you want suitors?”
it was such an outlandish question. “because i want to get married.”
“why?”
“because…. i want to have a family.”
“why?”
“because that’s what i’m supposed to do.”
“why?”
you didn’t understand why he was asking this question over and over and it was frustrating. “because that’s how i grew up.”
“exactly,” johnny said. “you want those things because the rest of the world told you that you’re supposed to want it. they dress it and make it sound pretty too. but you know what happens to most people? they marry a person they don’t really know or barely like. they have kids with this person without an inkling of an idea what a commitment it is to be a parent. they fuss and fight with this person and the children grow up watching, learning, absorbing, and they internalize it as their picture of love so that when they go into the real world, they can’t identify a performance of it from the real thing. and the cycle repeats.”
it made you remember what chaewon had said about why you couldn’t have sleepovers at her house. she had always complained about her parents’ incessant arguments.
johnny kissed your forehead and continued, “so if you’re going to marry someone, if you’re going to have children, at least do it on your own terms. do it because you want to. don’t do it because you think that’s all there is to life. it’s not. you’re very young.”
he was the first person to ever say anything like that to you, and that went for a lot of things you had heard him say over the months. but when you were brave enough to follow his advice, it did make you happier, so maybe he was right.
“i want to marry you,” johnny said. “but i don’t want you to agree to it because you think you have to. i want you to agree because you like me, and you think that we will make each other happy.”
“i do like you,” you said, wiping your eyes. “you make me happy. more than anyone else.”
“are you sure?” johnny asked warily.
“yes,” you told him. you wrapped your arms around him. “i want you in my life forever.”
“okay,” johnny said, sighing in relief. “okay. then sit down. we should talk about that.”
you followed him to the bed, sitting beside him, watching him, half clothed and barely even noticing. his words were echoing in your head, giving you so much to think about, things you had never considered, and that was the thing you liked about johnny that was so scary. he put things in your head that went against everything you ever heard, everything you had ever let yourself believe about the world.
that night honestly ended too soon, but the good news was that you weren’t dreading going back home for once.
at the next dinner, you knew the night was going to be exciting. everyone was seated in their usual spots, and your mother interrogated everyone about their days.
you took a more active position for once, asking haechan, “how’s things with the company?”
“i’m glad you asked, sister,” haechan said, smiling. it was always weird seeing him act pleasant. “things are running smoothly. we’re currently trying to ascertain the most efficient means of implementing some new initiatives i had in mind that could boost our worker productivity and overall profitability. and you? how are things going with, what is it, mr. suh?”
“i’m glad you asked, brother,” you echoed, matching his smile. “mr. suh wants me to be mrs. suh.”
the table went silent for a moment. you saw the forks freeze as everyone took that in.
your stepfather was the first to say, “i think that’s a wonderful idea!”
“honey, that’s amazing,” said your mother, the delight shaping her face. “i’m so proud. are you serious?”
“very,” you said. you glanced at your stepfather. “obviously, i need your blessing, but…”
“i can’t think of anything more fantastic," he interrupted.
“i think i’m going to cry,” your mother said, clasping her hands over her mouth. “my baby is getting married! i’m getting a grandchild!”
it felt like forever before your mother and her husband finally stopped bombarding you with a million questions about things you hadn’t even had time to consider yet, but it was obvious that they were pleased.
haechan, on the other hand, was not.
you were alone in the kitchen, grabbing something extra to drink when haechan popped up in the entrance.
“you can’t marry him,” he said.
“i believe that decision is up to your father, and he seems more than thrilled about it,” you replied.
it was like he didn’t hear you. “you can’t marry him,” he said again.
you spun around and crossed your arms. “and why not?”
“because you’re mine,” haechan declared. he walked up until he was standing directly in front of you, his face nearly touching yours. “did you forget that already? i don’t touch you for a couple of months and you spread your legs for the first willing man in a suit like a good little whore? is that what you are? a whore?”
you grabbed a knife from the knife holder and pointed it at him. “don’t talk to me like that!”
haechan’s eyes widened. “baby, put the knife down.”
“no!” you exclaimed. something about the entire interaction made you feel so triggered. “you made me like this! i believed you. i thought you loved me!”
“i do. i do love you, baby, i swear-“
you jabbed the knife at him. “stop lying to me! you only love yourself! you said you were going to fix me, but you just wanted to break me down. you said you were doing what’s best for me, but you were doing what was best for yourself!”
haechan leapt back, stumbling. “okay, okay, i’m sorry, i’m sorry- let me make it up to you, okay?”
“no,” you said firmly. “i’m done with you. i’m moving in with johnny.”
haechan didn’t look like he was taking that well. you could see it in his eyes. the shock, then the anger. he was quiet for a moment, just glaring at you, but at last, he said, “you’ll never find another man like me.”
“i sure hope so.” you turned and walked away.
every time you saw haechan around the house after that day, he was sure to look at you with nothing but contempt, as if you had done something to break his heart and not the other way around.
but you didn’t care. something good was finally happening to you, and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. you weren’t going to let your life revolve around his happiness anymore. for once, this was about you. and that was okay. it felt like it was okay.
it didn’t take long for you to remember how much you hated moving. the process was beyond annoying, even with people hired to do the heavy lifting for you. it was especially hard when you moved out of the house you grew up in, your father’s house. every memory you had ever made for the first twenty something years of your life was in that house, and you had to leave them there, or try to bring them somewhere the walls looked different, and the stairs didn’t sound the same, and the doors weren’t what you were used to. somewhere they didn’t fit.
at least now you were going somewhere you wanted to be. this house had never been a home. you walked around it the last few days of your staying, and it felt like a shackle was at your feet, letting you go just far enough to get around here, but keeping you inside.
the kitchen made you remember that night with haechan and his friends, the way their hands had felt on your body, how trapped you had felt. it reminded you of the way his hand went across your face when you woke late. your closet reminded you of the doom you felt waiting for him to come up to your bedroom, dreading it. the living room made you remember the day the investor stopped by to see him. the stairs made you remember hearing him and chaewon together.
when you put all of those thoughts together… you really hated this house.
“that’s the last of it,” you said in relief as you came in to sit on johnny’s couch. well, it was yours now too. “thanks for letting me move in.”
johnny snorted. “well, we’re getting married, so i think that’s only fair.”
i am getting married. to think something you had dreamed of your whole life was now becoming a tangible reality, and you were doing it for the right reason too. not because it was what everyone expected, but because you genuinely wanted it.
you glanced up at johnny. “i don’t think i’m going to talk to haechan anymore.”
“good,” he said, nodding. “that’s good.”
your feelings for haechan had been complicated, hard to shake even when you began to comprehend the truth of the harm he had done to you. but for some reason, that night in the kitchen, when he said those things to you, it was like a switch had gone off in your head. maybe even a month prior, you would have told yourself that you deserved it, that you had insulted him by going off with another man and had somehow earned his cruelty. but every month with johnny made you realize that what you had felt around haechan was not butterflies, but fear.
you didn’t want to live every single day on edge. you wanted to be with someone who made you feel safe. someone who made the world feel quiet. someone who made your life feel rich with possibility. someone like johnny.
“i was so stupid to believe him,” you murmured.
johnny shook his head. “you weren’t stupid,” he said. he approached the couch and dropped beside you. “you were vulnerable. he knew that and he preyed on you. the good thing is that you started to recognize the trap for what it was, and you didn’t let yourself get stuck in it. that counts for something.”
your brows furrowed as you became lost in thought, pondering the way things had been, how you had been so deceived. “he was nice sometimes. especially in the beginning.”
johnny chuckled. “of course he was. it’s easy to forgive someone when you’re clinging onto the good parts of them.”
“it’s almost like you’re speaking from experience.”
“well, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me,” johnny said. “but i’ll trust you if you can trust me.”
you reached for his hand. “i do trust you.”
johnny smiled. “i’m getting you a ring. and i’m going to propose to you properly. somewhere with good music. then we’re gonna go to dinner and you’re gonna tell me what you want to do in the next phase of your life, and i’ll tell you something about the last phase of mine.” he squeezed your hand. “deal?”
you looked down at your joined hands, and a wide grin broke across your lips. “deal.”
you were truly happy with johnny. happier than you had been since before your father died. part of that was because your understanding of happiness had changed. you did things because they fulfilled you, and not because you were told that you should find it fulfilling. it didn’t feel like you were performing. with johnny, you could truly just be, and he still accepted you with open arms no matter what.
sometimes you would make mistakes. sometimes the ways of the life you had before you and johnny met emerged, but when it did, johnny helped you get through it so that you could start to unlearn behaviors that were never truly meant to serve you.
and you learned so much about yourself now that you were finally letting yourself exist. you wanted to travel more, learn more instruments, learn more languages, eat different food, meet different people. you wanted to pick up new hobbies and wear new clothes and do something random just because.
you had been in the middle of selecting color arrangements for your wedding when the mention of a familiar name on the news got your attention. the news anchor was saying, “tonight’s breaking news, ceo lee haechan has been removed from office after several subordinates came forward alleging that he engaged in illicit sexual relationships with them. the allegations are currently under investigation, and no criminal charges have been announced at this time.”
oh, how you would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the house. things with no value go in the trash. there’s a mercy in that. i’d rather him go to hell.
as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, though, no matter how great your life had become, you knew there was still something missing.
you tapped your feet against the ground as you sat at the back of the cafe. you had texted chaewon from johnny’s phone, still knowing her number by heart after all these years. you’d had little hopes that she would respond, but she did, and now you were waiting.
it had been so long since you last saw each other, you didn’t know what to expect. you didn’t even feel like the person you were when everything happened. it felt like a life that someone else had lived.
when you finally saw chaewon approaching, the air fled your lungs. she sat down at the table in front of you, and up close, she seemed to have become a different person too.
“hey,” you said shakily.
chaewon didn’t smile. “hey.”
“long time, no see. you look good,” you told her, because it was true. she had always looked good, her worst days were another person’s very best. but her hair was longer now, and she had dyed it.
“as do you,” she said, “but we’re a little past small talk, don’t you think?”
you swallowed. it was strange, being so careful around her, the person you had once felt the most comfortable with. “i suppose we are.”
chaewon cut to the chase. “my brother made me block you. he says you set it up. is that true?”
it was the hardest thing to admit. “yes.”
chaewon scoffed. “wow. how could you do that? do you know that i got pregnant?”
“what?”
“yeah,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “luckily, jaehyun convinced my parents not to make me keep it. i was so scared.”
“did it… go okay?” you asked tinily. it felt like a stupid thing to say. “the abortion?”
“it was fine, i guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “i cramped and bled for a few days. after that it was easier.”
you nodded. it took you a moment to find the words. “chaewon, i am… so sorry. sending him after you… that was awful of me. i heard you and haechan in the kitchen that night and i was angry. i was jealous. i’ve been jealous of you almost my whole life. and i chose to do something that i knew would hurt you because of it. looking back, i can see how wrong it was. you didn’t deserve it at all and it cost me our friendship, and i didn’t understand that that was the realest thing i had. i know there’s nothing i can say to erase the impact of that trauma, but i can promise that i won’t let my emotions get the better of me like that again. i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to.”
chaewon was quiet a long time. “i appreciate your apology, but i don’t know if i’m ready to forgive you right now, or if i ever will be.”
that cut deep, but you couldn’t blame her. “that makes sense.”
“congratulations on your engagement,” she said, gesturing to your hand. “i hope he treats you well and you have a good life together. goodbye.”
“goodbye, chaewon,” you whispered. you watched her rise and walk away, almost as quickly as she had come. the moment was over before it really began, and you sat there not knowing if she would ever come back, not knowing if you had said the right thing, not knowing if there was anything in the world you could do to keep her there.
you looked down at the ring johnny had gotten you. it was absolutely beautiful, and he had let you choose it to ensure you loved it. you were entering a new phase of your life, and though it wasn’t with chaewon, it was with someone who loved you all the same. maybe you could live with that.