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@upirs
๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ โฑ g๐l๐e๐ ๐o๐ฆ ย โ ย โ ย โ DIRTY WORK
รฆ๏น set 'em on fire, ์ค์ค๋ก ๋ฐํ โ ( ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ) โโ your enemy was always one step in front of you, no matter what ๐. i don't really wanna play nicely, nicely โจ ๐๐๐๐๐ โฉ
ย โ ย ย ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ โโ sharp teeth, bite first. real bad business, that's dirty work. bold eyes, cold stare. real bad business, that's dirty work
'โ โขโ ใ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ใ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ธ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ธ, ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ธ ! spyhee & fmr โฑ๏น 8OO wrds / ๐ฟ๐ . thriller . with suggestive, profanity, guns, violence, menace hee ๅ ( ๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ) + ๐๐๐๐๐๐
์ฌํค โโ EDITION . writing this made me realise I need him so bad and lowk wanna write a part two cuz this trope is peak โขแทเกโขแท liek&reblog!
you always worked alone. it was easier getting the job done. and one thing everyone knew about you was to never cross you. your juniors or your superiors knew better than to intervene.
and the person who knew this better than anyone else was now in front of you, getting cornered.
you slam him against the wall, your arch nemesis and the guy who never let you be since he got to find out who you were. "still following me, agent h?"
your voice was raspy and just above a whisper. you pressed the cold muzzle of the gun against his stomach, hoping the pressure itself would knock him dead.
lee heeseungโwith that little smug smirk of his, hair disheveled and dressed up in a black suit seemed unfazed. of course he's not.
"you finally caught up to me," he let out a small chuckle looking the side. you could spot the touch of dried blood near his lip. "though, I didn't think you were the touchy type."
you pushed him against the wall again, your hand reaching to the trigger. almostโalmost pulling it.
though you couldn't risk it. heeseung was a top level spy much like you were. yet your missions always kept clashing with each other. you debuted as the killer spy from your agency. your name made every man flinch and surrender. every gang leader knew who you were, mafias paid millions to retrieve information from you and insiders from the government were at your feet in a millisecond.
and then came the golden boy. your biggest rival. always being one step ahead of you and for once, you never knew how he did it. there was something so sinister about the way he moved, and always knowing where you were. if you were after the blueprints, he'd already swapped them. if you searching for your target, he'd already be at the scene, gun to head, waiting for you.
he was untouchable, arrogant and annoyingly good at what he does.
it was a perfect match.
heeseung tilted his head, "i didn't know you liked me this much." he smirked once again, looking down at you.
"don't flatter yourself." your arm went against his neck, pressing his head against the wall.
"relax, sweetheart. not here to ruin the mission, i already got the files."
so he did it again.
but you couldn't believe him. the bastard was lying. your arm slowly went down his coat and down the belt with his gun on it. you could almost hear his breath hitch when your fingers trailed against his waist. you checked his pockets and the ones attached to his coat. there was no usb, no files, nothing. the cocky jerk was lying.
"pathetic." you scoffed at his face, "your lies won't get you anywhere."
you let your walls down at his attempt at lying. and that's where you messed up. "wrong." he said, his hands moved fast as he brought your arms behind you, turning you around and pressing you to the nearest railing on the rooftop you both were on.
"it gets me here." you could already feel him grinning even though you couldn't see his face.
"fuck, let me go, asshole." you struggled, trying to get out of his hard grip.
"not so easily, sweetheart." he called you that stupid nickname again. the one that made you scowl and the one that made your stomach turn.
he brings his free hand up against your waist. Almost like he was searching for something. and he was. "got the key here somewhere, right?" he murmurs.
his touch was cold and with intent. though you could never know what he was up to. was he teasing you? his hand was slow against your waist and if it was another person, he'd already gotten his key.
heeseung was riling you up again. he was trying to get under you skin like he had before. and it was working.
he finally found the key and snatched it from your belt. a smile on his face like he was proud of himself. he finally let go of you as you turned around fast.
your eyes darted against him yet he was still calm, still collected.
"fuck you," you spat.
"maybe some other time." he started walking away with a smirk, leaving you there confused and in a daze.
lee heeseungโthe man who always got his way. and he'd get it no matter what. no matter how messy he was or how it passed an average person's morals. it suits him, this dirty work suited him.
โ ย join the taglist ๐ @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @voikiraz @miumura @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @naespas @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey @firstclassjaylee @rikislove @hynjinnnnnnnn @flwrstqr @manariee
โ โ ๐บ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ฝ. do not copy, repost or translate my works
โถ ๐๐ข๐ช ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ง ๐๐๐ง๐ฆ ๐๐ก โโ ๐ ๐พ๐พ ๐๐พ๐พ๐๐พ๐๐๐
SYNOPSIS. with heeseung in your bed and a bali vacation for the books, itโs hard to remember why you ever set an alarm.
PAIRING. lee heeseung x fem! reader
WORD COUNT. 3.5k
GENRES. smut (18+, mdni), established relationship, morning sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (naughty), fluff, sleepy hee, reader never gets her smoothie lets kill the man, MY REAL ENHA SMUT TAG DEBUT HELLO
WARNINGS. profanity, explicit sexual content
AUTHOR'S NOTE. so this is officially my first time posting real #actual smut dun dun dun if its terrible dont tell me. glaze me. I BEG!!! i had a time writing this and long live soft dom hee <3 โน BOOKSHELF
"WE'RE GONNA MISS BREAKFAST, BABY."
Heeseung doesnโt even flinch. Instead, his arm tightens around your waist, dragging your half-bare body further against him as he mumbles something incomprehensible into the crook of your neck. His voice is warm and sticky, half-melted by sleep and the balinese heat already creeping in through the slatted windows sitting just off to the side of your bed.
You sigh into his hair, the soft smell of his shampoo bathing your face in familiarity, your fingers tangled in the woven edge of the hotel blanket. One of your legs is thrown over his in a way that speaks more to your restless nighttime habits than to your desire to be close to your boyfriend. Not that the latter is any less appreciated; his warmth, his scent, itโs all achingly sweet. Especially now that the two of you have been traveling together for the last couple of weeks. His face has become the one constant in your life.
โIt ends in thirty minutes,โ you add, tracing circles on the bare skin of his back. โI want one of those smoothies with the flowers in it.โ
A crinkle forms between his brows, and he lifts his head slightly, eyelids still heavy.ย
โYou hate plants in your drinks.โ
You snort. If thereโs anything Heeseung can claim, itโs that heโs uniquely talented in sniffing straight through your bullshit. Granted, it can be a little disconcerting to be the only one of your friend group who canโt get away with a little white lie to her boyfriend here and there, but you suppose youโd rather this than a man whoโs much too aloof.
Heeseung stretches beneath you, his broad palms warm against the skin of your stomach. Heโs shirtless, and tanned, and still wearing the shell necklace youโd bought him from a tourist stall two days ago. It had, unfortunately, cost you a dayโs lunch and the last withering morsels of your dignity, but at least it has Heeseung looking like every sexy, picturesque summer boyfriend dream youโve ever had. Except heโs real. And pouting.ย
โCome on,โ you coax, brushing his bangs off his forehead gingerly. โUp. Before I leave you for a banana pancake. Or a stranger with a moped.โ
Itโs as much a joke as it isnโt. The joke being that youโd leave willingly; but you and Heeseung both know that the possibility of you being snatched off the sidewalk and stuffed into a fruit cart by the various men who continue to whistle at you despite his valiant attempts to shoo them offโIโm literally right hereโis shockingly real.ย
He doesnโt move, though. Barely rolls his eyes, even. Heโs in that sweet, sleepy morning-haze he always wakes up in, halfway between fluttering lashes and the watery rising run. He smiles, tilting his head back, his eyes crinkling.ย
โWhat if I kiss you instead?โ
Itโs tempting. His voice is low, that same syrupy, rough quality to it thatโs replayed over and over in your dreams. His fingers work gently over the skin of your hips, teasing. Youโre not sure if any of it is intentionalโif heโs trying to send a rush up to your head, to leave you dizzy and disoriented. But itโs working.ย
โThat would be a distraction,โ you mutter, and itโs probably visibly obvious how much heโs affecting you. Heeseung only grins.
Forget probably. Itโs definitely obvious.
โYouโre easily distracted.โ
And he proves his point (really, truly drives it home) by leaning up to press a soft, slow kiss beneath your jaw, where the skin is warm and sensitive. You sigh into it despite yourself, and if the brush of his smile against your neck is anything to go by, heโs noticed. He goes for another right under your ear. Each press of his lips sends a shiver down your spine, which is unfair, really. Heโs all lazy and persistent, his mouth brushing yours before you even realize your eyes have fluttered shut.ย
โHeeseung,โ you warn, breath hitching slightly, but your voice is void of any and all conviction. โThis isnโt going to get us breakfast.โ
He pulls away just enough to whisper conspiratorially.
โWe can order room service.โ
You push against his shoulder softly, scoffing. Itโs firm to the touch, a plane of sinewy muscle that youโre trying very hard to ignore. Youโre scolding him, after all.
โWeโre not rich.โ
โWeโre in Bali."
You snort, reaching a hand up to card through his hair.ย
โThat's not a counterpoint, Heeseung.โ
But heโs already rolling you onto your back, shifting to hover over you with the gentlest grin playing on his lips. Light filters in behind him; a soft, yellowed halo glowing dimly off his honeyed skin. His necklace swings slightly, your breath catching.
โFine,โ you whisper. Itโs hard to say no when you have him like thisโpupils blown wide, eyes rich and brown like wet soil; like cocoa. His bangs fall over his forehead, brushing over the thick set of his brows tenderly.
โFine?โ
โTen minutes. Then we go.โ
He hums in agreement, dipping back down to kiss your collarbone like itโs routine. And it is, by nowโhis hands skimming your sides, your fingers ghosting over the nape of his neck, your legs tangled together under gauzy sheets as the world outside your room glows gold. He pulls you closer, the strap of your sleeping shirt slipping off your shoulder, thin and fairly unnecessary in your current state anyhow.
Heeseung kisses you like youโre water and heโs awoken to a world of rough, arid sand. Itโs as sweet and languid as it is desperate, like heโs been dreaming about this. And maybe he has. You feel something hard against your leg, his boxers pressing against the skin of your thighs as he kisses you softly. Itโs too muchโyou can only whimper quietly against his lips, insistent as you wrap your legs around him, pressing his warmth against your body.
He groans quietly, lingering too long in a way that makes you feel like your skin might catch fire under the weight of his mouth. His lips part just enough to drag, soft and deliberate, and you inhale sharply, the sound threading straight through the tension stretched thin between your bodies.
He pulls back to look at you, his eyes lazily tracing your face as his thumb smooths over your hip. Thereโs a smile at the corner of his mouth, curved with amusement.ย
โStill want that smoothie?โ
You shake your head once, slow. Itโs not even a decision anymore. Hasnโt been, not since the moment he touched you. You curl a hand around the back of his neck instead, urging him down again, and he obliges easily, his teeth grazing your throat before sucking lightly just below your jawline. The contact is hot and wet, just this side of sinful.
Your back arches into it.
โYouโre so annoying.โ
โMmm.โ He doesnโt sound particularly offended, a smiling lacing his words. โYou keep letting me get away with it.โ
His hand slips lower, sneaky, warm fingers slipping under the edge of your shorts, brushing the soft skin at your hipbone with maddening gentleness. His eyes flick to yours, watching. You make no move to stop him. You wouldnโt, and you canโt. Youโre boneless, completely paralyzed by the sight of him like this; innocent and broad and gorgeous, his hair still messy from sleep, eyes soft and glazed over by desire. Fuck breakfast, frankly.
โYouโre wet,โ Heeseung says, like itโs a fact heโs still trying to process. โAlready?โ
You hum, half a whimper. โTold you it was a distraction.โ
He huffs a quiet laugh at the state of you, something amused and disbelieving, and dips his head again. Not to your lips this timeโheโs pushed the delicate fabric of your shirt up, mouthing lazily at your chest, his tongue flattening over the swell of one breast while his fingers move slowly to position themselves between your legs. Itโs torturous, how unhurried he is. How much he seems to enjoy keeping you right at the edge.
Your hips twitch up against his hand, shameless, and he rewards you with a bit more pressure, his middle finger slipping down to tease your entrance.
โYouโre doing that thing again,โ you murmur, breath catching in frustration, โwhere you act like we have all fucking day.โ
His smile only grows, sunshine against your skin.ย
โWe do,โ he says. โUnless you decide youโre dying for that flower smoothie.โ
You roll your eyes, a laugh punched out of you by the way his finger finally sinks in, slow and firm. It curls deliberately inside you, instantly finding the spot that makes your thighs clench around his wrist. You moan quietly, stuttering. But he doesnโt stop. Just watches your face as he adds another finger; the drag of them just right, squelching in the quiet room.
โHeeseungโโ your voice breaks around his name.
โI got you,โ he murmurs. Quiet. Steady. โJust relax.โ
And god, you do. You let your head tip back against the pillow, hands fisting weakly at the sheets while he works you openโgently, but with purpose. He watches the way your body responds, and when his thumb finds your clit again, itโs like a live wire. Your hips jerk, a loud gasp escaping your lips. He shushes you softly, his breath warm against your breast as he mouths at your nipple, wet and slow.
He moves up slowly, eventually reaching your mouth again, where you lift a shaky hand to cup his cheek as he kisses you. Your moans melt into his mouth, the rhythm of his fingers picking up as your hips continue to roll into his hand. His other hand presses firmly against your thigh, spreading you wider for him.
โYouโre perfect,โ he whispers against your lips, and you feel the words more than you hear them, each syllable low and reverent, like a prayer.
His mouth trails down again, slow and deliberate, like worship. He kisses along your collarbone, down the center of your chest, tongue laving gently as he moves. He has one hand slipped up to cup your breast, thumb brushing slowly over your nipple, his fingers pumping insistently. You can feel the way you suck him in with every thrust, and he looks down to watch it, his eyes hooded and dazed. Your back arches from the sight of his face with a soft gasp, needing more, your hips shifting restlessly against his hand.ย
โHeeseung,โ you breathe, pleading.
He hums, dragging his lips up the curve of your breast before pulling back to look at you. His hair is even messier now, falling over his eyes, his lips swollen and glistening. You can see the tension in his jaw, in the tight set of his shoulders. Heโs holding himself back, barely.
You nod quickly, shaky.ย
โPlease.โ
Itโs all he needs.
He kisses you again, hard and deep, while his fingers slip from between your thighs only long enough for him to tug your panties down your legs, slow and careful. His eyes donโt leave yours, not even as he discards them to the floor. He sits up slightly, pulling you closer to him with your cunt now completely exposed. It takes everything in you not to try and cover yourself up, but the astonished look in Heeseungโs eyes helps to ease your shyness. His hands roam your thighs slowly before he leans back down, nestling between them. His breathing hitches as he looks at youโreally looks at youโspread open for him, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling fast under the soft glow from the windows.
โFuck,โ he whispers again, like he canโt help it, like he canโt believe youโre his. โYouโreโฆ Jesus, baby.โ
Then he dips his head.
The first press of his tongue against your heat makes your whole body jolt. A gasp tears from your lips, your fingers flying to his hair and grabbing without thought. He groans low in his throat as your hips lift toward him, and he flattens his tongue, licking a slow, heavy stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around your clit.
You cry out, back arching off the bed. Heeseung is patient, but relentless. He licks and sucks and moans into you, like heโs starved. Every flick of his tongue, every swirl, every kiss against your most sensitive spots has you trembling, babbling his name. Your thighs close in around his head without meaning to, and he just groans, hands gripping your hips tighter to keep you there.
โYou taste so fucking good,โ he murmurs into you, the words vibrating against your core. โCould stay here forever.โ
Your mind is slipping, your thoughts reduced to a melting pot of heat and haze as Heeseung opens his jaw wider, his tongue pushing into you as his hands grip your waist, your ass, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust of his tongue. Youโre close, so close you can barely breathe.ย
โHeeseungโโ you mumble, hips twitching. โIโmโI canโtโโ
โItโs okay,โ he murmurs, looking up at you with dark, glassy eyes. โCome for me, baby.โ
And so you do. The orgasm rips through you like a wave; stealing your breath, your voice, your thoughts. Your thighs shake violently, hands clutching at the sheets and his hair, your head thrown back as you cry out. He doesnโt stop, not until youโre squirming, too sensitive, gasping his name like a broken record.
Itโs only then that he finally pulls back, his lips and chin slick and glistening. He kisses the inside of your thigh, then higher again, so tenderly it makes your chest ache. You reach for him blindly, trembling, and he crawls back up your body, pressing soft kisses along your skin until heโs hovering over you again. Youโre still trying to catch your breath when his forehead drops against yours.ย
โYou okay?โ he murmurs, his voice softer now.
You nod slowly, eyes fluttering open, heart still racing.ย
โMore than okay,โ you breathe, fingertips brushing over his jaw. But something steals your attention; Heeseung is still hard against your leg, a visible bulge in his boxers that sends a flood of saliva to your mouth. โHeeseung. Youโyou can fuck me. I donโt want breakfast. I promise.โ
He laughs warmly before leaning down to kiss you again. And you let him, tasting yourself on his lips, letting your arms wrap around him and holding him close. Thereโs that shampoo again, and the necklace that brushes against your cheek, and the strong arms that wrap themselves around your body, firm and warm and safe.
โYou drive me crazy,โ he whispers against your ear.
Youโre barely holding on when he pulls back, his gaze locked on yours as he reaches for the waistband of his boxers. Your stomach flips violently at the sight of him when he pulls his cock out and begins to stroke himself, slow and easy, the tip flushed and leaking. Thereโs a dreamy haze to his eyes now, low-lidded and dark. His jaw is tight with restraint.
โYou want it like this?โ he asks, voice raspier than youโre used to hearing. โSlow?โ
You nod, maybe a little too fast.
โYeah?โ Youโre already spread open, and so he lines himself up easily, cock dragging through your folds once, twice. โWant me to take my time with you?โ
โPlease,โ you beg.
Thatโs all it takes. He presses in slowly, inch by inch, your breath catching on a groan as he enters you. The stretch is full and perfect, the kind of deep that steals the words right out of your mouth. He watches you the whole time, his hand cupping your jaw like he can anchor you there, ground you while your body wraps tight around him.
โShit,โ he whispers, once heโs all the way in. โYou feel so good.โ
You do, too. Full to the point of unbearable, all that early morning laziness replaced by a simmering, helpless heat. You tighten your legs around his waist and drag him closer, and when he starts to moveโslow, shallow thrusts that drag unbearably against your wallsโitโs like you can feel each stroke in your chest. He kisses you messy, open-mouthed and deep, like he doesnโt care if he breathes, if he lives. One hand braces beside your head, the other slipping beneath your thigh to hitch it up higher. The angle changes, and you gasp.
โYou okay?โ he murmurs, half-groan, lips brushing your temple.
โSo okay,โ you manage, eyes screwed shut. โDonโt stop.โ
His grin flashes, boyish and quick, stopping for a quick moment to ogle the sight of him sheathed deep inside of you, his hand coming down to flick at your clit.
You shift under him, restless, thighs shaking.
โHeeโโ
โI know,โ he says, almost a whisper.
He moves again. Long strokes, deep and deliberate. Each one makes your breath stutter, has your hands scrambling over his back, his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself to something. The room is warm, too warm, the air thick with sweat and salt and whatever visceral groan just tore out of your throat. He digs his fingers into your thigh, leaning over you. His mouth brushes over your in the most infuriating not-quite kiss.ย
โYouโre shaking,โ he murmurs. Heโs smiley, but you can see the restraint in his eyes, the vein that strains on his neck. Heโs barely holding on.
โThen do something,โ you moan.
That finally breaks something in him. He huffs a soft, ragged laugh and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other braces beside your ribs. His next thrust knocks the breath out of you.
โOh,โ you gasp, and he does it again. Harder, and faster, and sharper.
Your legs curl around him without thinking. His necklace swings against your tits, your wrists still caught in his grip. Heโs not smiling anymore; heโs got his eyes closed, his jaw tight as he moans with every thrust, like he needs it-like heโs chasing it now.ย
โFuck,โ he cries out, kissing your cheek, your temple, blindly. โI donโt know how Iโm supposed to go anywhere after this.โ
You let out a broken laugh. He thrusts deeper then, slower but stronger, and it knocks the breath right out of you. His hand is still closed around your wrists, holding you steady, fingers splayed wide over the sheets.
You arch under him, mouth falling open.ย
โThereโright thereโโ
โI know,โ he pants, and kisses you quiet. โI know, baby.โ
You moan, a wanton sound, and his eyes flutter shut like heโs trying to commit the sound to memory. And then heโs pulling out just enough to thrust back in, hard enough to make the headboard knock softly against the wall.
You gasp loud and unfiltered and Heeseung groans under his breath, his jaw clenched.ย
โYeah? That what you want?โ
Heโs not smiling, or teasing. Heโs halfway gone.
โI can take it,โ you whisper.
At that, he lets out a low, wrecked laughโFuckโand then his mouth is back on yours, hot and messy and insistent. His thrusts start to pick up, deeper now, sharper, every one landing just right. Youโre soaked, clenching around him, and he groans when he feels it.
โYouโre so fucking wet,โ he mutters against your mouth. โSo good.โ
You nod, eyes barely open, your body moving in the sheets with every thrust.
โYou always do this to me.โ
His fingers slide up, hooking under your knee to push your leg up, open, wide. He wants to see all of you take him. The angle changes again and he watches your eyes flutter and your head tilt back as a moan rips out of you.
โThatโs it,โ he breathes. โThere it is.โ
You can barely speak now, just clinging to his shoulders, nails dragging down the golden skin of his back as his hips smack against yours again and again.
This is definitely a way to start your day, with your name being groaned into the junction of your neck. And still, even now, Heeseung presses a kiss to your cheek in between thrusts. One hand grips your wrists, and the other runs through your hair, like he canโt help touching you everywhere at once.
โI missed you like this,โ he pants, voice raw. โMissed this you. All needy.โ
โYou have me every day,โ you gasp, but the words falter. Heโs fucking you harder now, rhythm tight and hungry. You can feel the edge coming up fast, sharp and curling in your spine. โDonโt say you missed meโfuckโlike that.โ
โI do,โ he says, and itโs urgent now, a groan twisted into a confession. โI always miss you. Even when youโre right here.โ
Youโre so close. He knows it. He can feel it.
He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles, his thrusts still deep and steady. โCome again for me, baby,โ he whispers. โCome on. Want to feel it. Want you to soak me.โ
It hits you hard, hips jolting, thighs squeezing around him, a cracked moan punched out of your chest as your whole body arches. You hear him groan, feel him rut into you deeper, chasing his own high now.
โFuckโfuck, youโre perfectโโ
You feel him spill inside you with a broken moan, his hips jerking once, twice more before he collapses against you, body shaking, groaning low in your ear.
Neither of you moves for a long moment. Just breathing and skin and sweat and this quiet golden morning.
Then, finally, he lifts his head just enough to catch your eye, giggling.
โHowโs that for breakfast?โ
ยฉ cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.
tags! @junityy @neo127
BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG PHOTOS WITH OT7
[ ๐ป - Nsfw jokes with heeseung]
HEESEUNG MUNCHHHHHHHHH
heeseung spreads your legs like he owns youโdoesnโt even look at your face, just stares at your dripping cunt like itโs a meal made for him, not to fuck you, but to devour every fucking inch of you as if you were tailor made for him. โfuck, been thinkinโ about this all day,โ he groans, already leaning closer, eyes dazed, โdidnโt come here to fuck you. came to eat this sweet little pussy till you cry like the pretty lil baby you are, hm?โ
his tongueโs on you in secondsโmessy and filthy as he sucks on your clit like heโs starving, groaning into you, grinding into the sheets like your tasteโs got him fucking feral. โyeah, baby, fucking squirm for me, cry all you want, yeah?โ he grunts, voice all desperate but still holding authority. โmakes my cock so fuckinโ hard when you twitch like that.โ
youโre soaked, shaking, almost sobbing now, and it just fuels him. heeseung is flushed, mouth drenched, eyes glazed over like heโs drunk off of you (he is). โlook at you,โ he pants, shoving two fingers in deep. โpretty pussyโs leaking, hm? so desperate for my tongue, like you were made for it.โ
he doesnโt stop only buries his face deeper like he wants to drown in youโtongue fucking you through your cries, his perfect nose pressed right against your clit as he moans like itโs his heaven, like youโre his heaven.
โyou hear that?โ he asks, breath shaky, lips glossy. โthis messy lilโ pussy keeps sucking me back in, it knows who it belongs to.โ youโre pushing at his head, too sensitive by now, but he just grabs your thighs, pins them down, and spits right on your cunt again before diving back in. โoh no, baby, donโt fucking run. iโll eat this pussy till youโre raw. till your brainโs gone, and youโre crying my fucking name.โ
โโโโโโหเฟ โ in lilac and gold ( lhs ! )
โฉหหห enhypen masterlist
โคท pairing โ heeseung x fem!reader โคท word count โ 21.2k โคท based on this request by @heesbbygurl โคท permanent taglist โ open !
โคท a/n โ i had so much fun writing thisโtruly. this honestly might be one of my favorite pieces yet. also, please donโt mind the enhypen masterlist, itโs still under editing and a little messy ๐ค
โคท warnings โ smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), reincarnation au, royal au, prince!heeseung, princess!reader, modern!heeseung, modern!reader, past lives, heavy emotional themes, mentions of childbirth, faint references to past death, soulmate trope, red string trope, fluff, angst, destiny/universe themes, mentions of pain (labor), crying, protective!heeseung, foul language, mentions of historical war/politics, romantic tension, fate-written love, farmer george reference, happy ending, breeding kink, marking, biting, light possessiveness, overstimulation, praise kink, slight size kink
โฉหหห summary โ as the crown prince of a powerful kingdom, lee heeseung was raised to ruleโwith sharp instincts, a loyal heart, and a crown that never sat too heavily on his head. he was born for diplomacy, bred for war, and destined for a throne. but the only thing he truly lived for was you. his wife, his queen, the only soul who could quiet the chaos inside him. you loved each other until your final breath. and somehow, even after that. or, where two strangers meet under the eyes of their past selves, and something the universe once forgot finally begins again.
The sun poured golden ribbons over the stone path, warm and gentle as it kissed the castle grounds. Somewhere beyond the hedges, the faint splash of the courtyard fountain echoedโa lullaby of water meeting water, rhythmic and calming.
You sat nestled within the pale embrace of a gazebo, its wooden frame delicately laced with ivy and blooming wisteria, soft petals swaying with every tender breeze.
The book in your hands was worn in the corners but lovedโits parchment pages aged, the ink slightly faded yet still carrying the weight of every word.
A sigh left your lips, soft and drawn out.
โ'And in silence, he longed for what he dared not touch,'โ you read aloud, your voice barely rising above the wind. โWhat a tragic sort of devotionโฆโ
Your fingers tightened around the spine.
The garden stretched out before you, a sea of colorโroses, tulips, peonies, and little blue forget-me-nots nestled near the base of every trimmed bush. Everything was alive, and yet it all stood still, like the entire world paused to listen.
Footsteps padded softly across the gravel behind you.
โMilady,โ came the quiet voice of one of the castle maids, her head bowed low as she placed a fresh tray of refreshments upon the small table beside you. Crystal glasses caught the light, and the silver tray gleamed beneath the sun.
You offered a gentle smile. โThank you.โ
She returned it, modest and fleeting, before stepping back. โShall I leave the strawberries as well?โ
โYes, please,โ you replied, adjusting the folds of your gown with one hand.
The silk skirt pooled around you in waves, layered with pale pastels, laced edges, and gold-stitched bows that shimmered every time you moved. A corset hugged your waist, cinched just enough to be proper, but not unbearableโa compromise between elegance and comfort.
She bowed again. โCall if you need anything, my lady.โ
โI always do,โ you murmured, your gaze falling back to the book.
You turned the page delicately, brushing your fingertips against the words as though they were fragile glass.
And then, quietly to yourself, โHow strange it must be, to long for someone in secretโฆ and be loved loudly by someone else entirely.โ
You were just about to turn the pageโfingertip sliding gently under the parchmentโwhen you heard it.
Footsteps.
Your gaze lifted from the book and drifted to the right, toward one of the many winding paths that led into the garden. Sunlight spilled across the white cobblestone in slanted rays, dancing between the petals and ivy.
Prince Heeseung.
Your breath caught for only a secondโbut your smile came instantly, unbidden, as if your heart had recognized him long before your eyes did.
He looked like he belonged in the very pages of your bookโdressed in a tailored white coat lined with gold filigree that caught the sun at every turn.
The fabric shimmered faintly with each step he took, the polished black boots beneath his dark trousers clicking softly against the stones. His hands were careful, cradling a fresh bouquet of lilacsโyour favorite, which he never once forgot.
The lilacs were nearly the same shade as the ribbon in your hair.
His dark hair was brushed back in soft waves, a few strands falling loosely near his brow. And those eyesโthose warm, honey-brown eyesโfound yours with ease, with something gentle tucked inside their gaze.
โPrincess,โ he greeted with a smile that turned your knees to air. His voice, low and warm, always had a way of curling around your name like a promise.
You sat up straighter, your hands folding over your lap as you tilted your head at him, playful. โYou walk like a man with secrets.โ
โI walk like a man bringing flowers to the only one who makes the garden look dull,โ he said, grinning as he reached the steps of the gazebo.
โOh, how terribly dramatic of you.โ
Heeseung chuckled, holding out the bouquet. โAnd yet it made you smile.โ
You accepted the lilacs carefully, the scent washing over you like a memory. โYou know, the florists will start suspecting youโre courting someone.โ
โI am courting someone,โ he replied easily, eyes never leaving yours.
Your cheeks warmed under the weight of his gaze.
โLucky her,โ you said softly, brushing your thumb over one of the petals.
Heeseung stepped closer, just enough to lower himself onto the bench beside youโhis posture relaxed, his shoulder brushing yours faintly. His arm rested casually behind you on the seat, not quite touching, but close enough to feel.
โLucky me,โ he corrected, leaning in the slightest bit as his voice dipped lower. โFor having a princess who reads poetry and meets me in gardens.โ
You laughed under your breath, looking down at the bouquet once more. โYou always say the right things.โ
Heeseung tilted his head, expression soft. โOnly when Iโm around you.โ
You gave him another smile, one that crinkled your eyes and pulled at the corners of your lips. Then, with a careful hand, you set the bouquet beside the refreshmentsโdelicate lilacs now resting in the sunโs golden glow, nestled beside chilled lemonade and a dish of strawberries.
โCome closer,โ you said gently, patting the spot beside you with a slight tilt of your head.
And he did.
Heeseung obeyed with that boyish grin tugging at his lips, sinking into the bench with ease until his shoulder brushed yoursโwarm, familiar. The closeness was effortless, the kind that came with hours and weeks and years of knowing. Of loving.
He turned slightly, eyes gleaming as if simply sitting beside you made the world right again.
โHow was practice?โ you asked, reaching instinctively for his hand, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.
He let out a dramatic sigh, one that rattled from the very depths of his chest before he leaned in furtherโhead finding its way to the crook of your neck, nose brushing the soft skin there as he inhaled.
โExhausting,โ he murmured, voice muffled by your skin. โSunghoon almost ripped my sleeve off.โ
Your brows raised, amused. โDid he now?โ
โAll because I told him he ought to start thinking about finding a lady of his own. Heโs only two years younger than me, but you'd think I told him to marry a goat the way he reacted.โ
You stifled a laugh.
โAnd Jongseong?โ you asked, already guessing.
โBacked me up, of course,โ Heeseung grinned into your neck. โHe even dragged Jungwon into itโsaid the two of them were becoming old maids with swords.โ
You gasped playfully. โCruel!โ
Heeseung laughed, his breath tickling your skin. โCruel but not wrong. So naturally, the younger ones decided the only reasonable response was chasing us through the courtyard with their blades drawn like little terrors.โ
You blinked. โWith actual swords?โ
โOh yes,โ he said, sounding far too amused. โThey meant business. The knights on patrol just stood there, watching. I think one of them placed a bet.โ
You giggled, running a hand through his soft hair as he leaned further into you, completely unbothered by decorum or the passing time. Your fingers threaded through the dark locks gently, combing through with care as if he were the most precious thing in the gardenโand he was.
Heeseung hummed under your touch, arms moving around your waist as he drew you closer until there was no space left between you.
โYou spoil me,โ he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.
โAnd you let me,โ you replied with a teasing smile, brushing your fingers along his temple.
โThatโs because Iโd gladly die in your hands,โ he muttered sleepily. โEven if your hands areโฆ very soft. And smell like roses.โ
You laughed again, delighted. โYouโre ridiculous.โ
โIโm yours,โ he corrected, holding you tighter.
And thenโwithout warningโhe leaned in and began pressing warm, slow kisses against the slope of your neck. One. Then another. His lips trailing softly just below your jaw, then lower, brushing against the skin just above your collarboneโbarely hidden by the delicate neckline of your gown.
โYour dress is unfair,โ he whispered between kisses, voice low and teasing. โMakes it impossible to behave.โ
You let out a breathy giggle, hand curling into the fabric of his sleeve. โYouโre impossible, Heeseung.โ
โMm, say it again.โ
โYouโre impossible?โ
โNo. My name. I like it when you say it like that.โ
You cooed gently, tilting your head as he angled for your lips. His gaze dipped to your mouth, and his hand moved up the side of your back, eyes half-lidded and completely enamored.
And just as your lips were about to meetโ
โHeeseung hyung!โ
The prince froze mid-movement, groaning against your skin like a man personally betrayed by the gods.
Another voice followed, louder and more frantic.
โHyung? Weโve been looking for you for ages!โ
From beyond the tall rose bushes near the edge of the gazebo, two familiar figures stumbled into viewโSunoo and Riki, each looking like scolded puppies whoโd wandered too far from their leash.
โUnbelievable,โ Heeseung muttered under his breath, finally lifting his head with the most exasperated expression. โWhat could possibly be so urgent?โ
Sunoo offered you a sheepish smile as he waved. โGood afternoon, Princess. Sorry to interrupt.โ
Riki, meanwhile, had already sauntered over and shamelessly plucked a macaron off the silver tray in front of you, examining it like heโd just discovered a new species. โPink. My favorite.โ
Heeseung narrowed his eyes. โRiki.โ
โI figured if Iโm going to interrupt, I may as well get a snack.โ
Sunoo sighed and folded his arms. โHyung, the head of the knight guardโHwanโhas been looking for you. Something about finalizing next weekโs banquet security plans?โ
At that, Heeseung visibly deflated, letting out a second, louder groan before dramatically resting his chin on top of your head like a sulking child. โIโm not going.โ
You stifled a laugh, reaching up to play with the ends of his hair. โYou do know youโre the crown prince, yes?โ
โI do,โ he mumbled. โAnd yet I feel incredibly underappreciated.โ
Riki snorted as he took another bite of the macaron, his voice muffled by sugar. โRelax, brother. Princess (Y/N)โs not going anywhere.โ
Heeseung gave a noise of agreement and nuzzled further into your hair, arms still locked firmly around your waist. โExactly. This is clearly a case of poor timing and disrespect toward royal romantic affairs.โ
Sunoo rolled his eyes. โYou say that as if your โromantic affairโ isnโt sprawled across a public gazebo.โ
โThen they should build us a private one.โ
You laughed again, threading your fingers through his hair as he melted into you like a spoiled cat. Riki and Sunoo exchanged one last glance before Riki shrugged and grabbed a second dessert.
โWeโll tell Hwan youโre โin conference.โโ
โAnd tell him to come back never,โ Heeseung added, voice muffled into your hair.
You sighed through a soft laugh, tapping his arms gently where they were stubbornly wrapped around your waist. โMy Prince,โ you said with mock sternness. โIf you donโt get going, Hwan will double your training hours. Maybe even triple.โ
He let out a groanโnot very prince-likeโas he nuzzled into you one last time. โCruel. You wound me, my love.โ
โYouโll survive,โ you hummed, gently nudging him away. He reluctantly loosened his grip, though he still hadnโt made any effort to actually stand.
You smiled fondly. โCome on. The earlier you finish your duties, the earlier you can be with me again.โ
That made him perk up, his eyes suddenly lighting like sun-touched gold. โNow that is motivation.โ He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheekโwarm, lingering, a promise tucked into it.
โUgh,โ Sunoo groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. โDo you have to kiss every five seconds?โ
โSome of us are still single,โ Riki added, arms crossed with an exaggerated pout.
You grinned. โWell, maybe if you two stopped terrorizing every debutante at every ballโฆโ
Heeseung snorted, standing at last with a stretch before he placed one last, feather-light kiss to the top of your head. โIgnore them, princess. Theyโre simply jealous.โ
You brushed your hands gently along the front of your gown, preparing to stand as well. โI must get going back inside,โ you murmured, glancing toward the palace doors. โThe sun is starting to turn hotter, and I might melt before you return.โ
Heeseung stepped beside you immediately, his hand finding the small of your back with natural ease. โThen Iโll escort you,โ he said. โItโs on the way to the courtyard anyway.โ
He looked to Sunoo expectantly. โThat alright?โ
Sunoo gave a small, understanding nod. โOf course. Weโll catch up with the captain while you two take your sweet time.โ
As you moved forward, the heavy layers of your gown shifted around your legs, the delicate fabric and gold embroidery trailing slightly behind you. You let out a tiny sigh, brushing your skirt to the side.
โThese gowns were not made for walking,โ you muttered.
โThey were made for floating, though,โ Heeseung teased, offering his arm with a grin. โAnd Iโm honored to be walking beside the most beautiful one to ever wear them.โ
You flushed as you took his arm, allowing him to guide you gently toward the entrance of the palace. Behind you, Riki mock-gagged and grabbed another macaron while Sunoo simply shook his head, already anticipating a very dramatic retelling of this moment at dinner.
โIโm serious,โ you added playfully over your shoulder, glancing at Heeseung. โHwan is already so tired of your antics. Please, spare the poor man.โ
That made the prince laughโa sound so full and bright that it echoed against the walls of the palace garden like music. โAlright, alright,โ he said, pulling you just a little closer. โFor your sake, Iโll behave. But only slightly.โ
The afternoon breeze was kind to your skinโneither too warm nor biting. It danced through the open corridor, carrying the scent of roses and distant sunlight as you strolled leisurely, your gown trailing behind like golden water. The lace fluttered slightly with each step, your slippers tapping gently against the polished stone floor.
Your two handmaidens flanked you, both young, bright-eyed, and as full of energy as always. The three of you had long abandoned any sense of formality as laughter echoed softly down the hall.
โWhite and gold,โ you said confidently, letting your fingers trace the embroidered detailing of your sleeve. โNo combination has ever looked better.โ
They both gasped as if you had uttered gospel.
โI told her the same thing!โ one of them chirped. โGold goes with everything. It brings out the elegance in the plainest of things.โ
โAnd itโs so regal,โ the other sighed dreamily. โLike something only worn by goddesses and queens.โ
You laughed, soft and genuine, as you reached the spiral stairs that led to the tower balcony. The stone was cool beneath your fingertips as you climbed, sunlight spilling in through narrow windows that cast slanted beams along the walls.
Stepping out onto the balcony, the three of you were greeted by the view of the castleโs courtyard belowโalive with the clang of swords, thuds of boots, and echoes of distant chatter.
โThere they go again,โ your handmaiden giggled, pointing toward the princes at the far end of the yard.
You followed her gaze and stifled a laugh of your own as you caught sight of Jungwonโs sword accidentally hitting Riki with the hiltโstraight to the side.
Riki let out a loud yelp, and without missing a beat, launched himself at the cat-like prince, chasing him in furious circles around the yard as their sparring partners stood stunned.
โTheyโre going to fall face-first into the fountain one of these days,โ you muttered, watching as the younger princes dashed around wildly.
Your eyes scanned across the yardโrows of knights moving in formation, sparring amongst themselves, or preparing equipmentโuntil they landed on a more composed sight. Prince Heeseung.
He stood slightly away from the others, deep in conversation with the ever-serious Captain Hwan. Between them lay a large scroll, its corners pinned with small weights, possibly a map of the castle grounds.
You could just barely make out their gesturesโHeeseung pointing toward a marked area while Hwan nodded sharply. Likely preparations for next weekโs banquet, you thought.
โThe crown prince looks far too serious today,โ one of the girls murmured, following your gaze.
โHe always does when Hwanโs involved,โ the other added, then nudged your arm with a sly smile. โNow those knights over there, thoughโฆโ
You turned your head just as she gestured to the opposite end of the courtyard, where Prince Jaeyun and Prince Jongseongโboth shirt-sleeved and flushed from trainingโwere surrounded by a group of younger knights. Their laughter echoed faintly, the two clearly in the middle of friendly teasing.
โTheyโre the heart-stoppers of the guard,โ she sighed dramatically. โImagine catching one of those eyes from below the helmet.โ
You chuckled, resting your arms on the balcony railing. โTheyโre charming,โ you admitted. โBut Prince Heeseung has my heart.โ
Both girls turned to you with the same dreamy expression.
โAs he should,โ one said, smiling. โYouโre both lucky.โ
โBetrothed and still looking at you like heโs thirteen again, sneaking out of language lessons to see you in the garden,โ the other added with a fond laugh.
You let out a soft breath of laughter, the memory settling sweetly in your chest. โHe still acts like it,โ you mused. โHe gifted me lilacs this morning and almost forgot he had training until Sunoo dragged him out.โ
They both laughed at that, clearly endeared.
โAnd every time he kisses you in public, Prince Riki looks like heโs about to hurl,โ your handmaiden added through a grin.
You covered your mouth to stifle the sudden laughter, nodding in agreement.
โHonestly,โ you sighed, โI should start rewarding the poor prince for tolerating all our affections.โ
โYou already do, Your Highness,โ one handmaiden said with a wink, leaning her elbows on the stone railing.
The other smiled softly, her voice quieter now, a sincerity woven into her words. โYou were the sister figure they always needed, you know.โ
You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone.
โTheyโre adored by everyone,โ she continued, eyes trailing down to the chaos of the courtyard. โThe Queen loves her sons dearlyโbut with the business of the court, the councils, the expectationsโwellโฆ they needed someone to be there. And you were.โ
โSheโs right,โ the first agreed. โFrom the moment you met themโฆ they looked up to you. Just as much as they look up to Prince Heeseung.โ
The wind blew gently again, carrying with it the laughter of the younger princes and the faint scent of lavender from the courtyard gardens.
Your gaze softened as it drifted across the yardโRiki now wrestling Jungwon to the ground playfully while Jaeyun scolded them half-heartedly in between sword swings.
They had always looked at you that way, hadnโt they? As if your presence gave them peace in ways no royal decree or bloodline ever could. They werenโt just princes to you. They were yours. In some small, cherished wayโthey had become the brothers you never had.
You sighed through a smile, delicately pushing your hair back over your shoulder, careful not to disturb the lilac bow resting perfectly near your crown.
โEnough with this sentimental talk,โ you murmured, though your voice was thick with affection. โYouโre going to make me cry.โ
Both handmaidens giggled, nudging each other playfully.
โIโd offer my handkerchief, but itโs silk and I donโt want to ruin it,โ one teased.
โSuch loyalty,โ you quipped, laughing along, your heart lighter now.
Your gaze floated back to the courtyard, naturallyโalwaysโseeking him.
Heeseung was still beside Hwan, nodding along to something the knight was pointing to on the map. His arms were folded behind his back, posture noble and every bit the Crown Prince. But thenโalmost as if the gods whispered your name into his earโhe looked up.
Right at you.
The seriousness faded instantly. His brows softened. His lips curved into a grin brighter than any sunbeam could ever hope to rival.
You giggled quietly, your hand raising in a gentle wave toward him. Heeseung returned the gesture with no hesitation, his smile only growing wider as he waved back, completely unbothered by Hwanโs sharp sigh beside him.
Below, the courtyard erupted.
โOIโLOOK AT THAT! THE PRINCE IS SMILING!โ
โYou sure thatโs our Crown Prince?!โ
More teasing hollers rang out as knights and princes alike noticed the sudden softness in their usually stoic eldest. And thenโ
โNoona! Hi!โ Jungwon shouted from where he was pinned by Riki, waving his arm wildly while the younger prince sat on his back like a triumphant puppy.
You covered your mouth, tryingโand failingโto hold in the laughter that spilled from your chest.
Then Jongseongโs voice echoed from below, loud and teasing. โCome down here! Itโs hot up there, you know!โ
He wasnโt wrong. In the few minutes you'd lingered at the stone balcony, the once-soft breeze had given way to a harsher warmth. The sun bore down with more intent now, and you found yourself squinting slightly under its golden glare.
You nodded in agreement and stepped away from the railing, your handmaidens trailing just behind, still giggling about the interaction like it had been the most charming thing theyโd seen all day. You couldnโt blame themโit really was.
As you descended the winding steps and approached the edge of the courtyard, the sight that greeted you was one of casual chaosโJungwon brushing dust from his tunic.
Riki now tugging at Sunghoonโs sleeve as the elder prince tried to ignore him with utmost patience while seated on one of the carved stone benches. Knights moved in rhythm nearby, sparring or catching their breath, the clang of steel and soft thuds of boots filling the air.
Your handmaidens, ever the schemers, gave you one last nudge forward.
โGo on,โ one whispered with a grin.
โOh, donโt give us that look, Your Highness,โ the other added when you turned to glare, all faux-offended elegance. โYouโre the one engaged to him.โ
Before you could retort, they laughed and slipped awayโheading straight toward a few young knights polishing their swords under a shaded tree, whispering and giggling like it was a market square and not royal training grounds.
You sighed with fond exasperation, shaking your head. โUnbelievable.โ
But your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a familiar warmth at your back.
A hand gently found your lower spine, fingers curling just slightlyโa touch meant only for you. You looked up to see Heeseung already beside you, as if drawn by instinct.
โPrincess,โ he murmured softly, before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. His voice was low, threaded with affection and familiarity.
You smiled at him, heart fluttering despite how often he did thatโhow natural it had become. โYour brothers are creating chaos.โ
Heeseung chuckled, eyes lifting briefly toward the mess of limbs and swords still clashing nearby. โIf they come back with their tunics torn again, Iโm blaming Jongseong.โ
โI heard that!โ Jongseong called from somewhere near the fencing rack, earning another soft laugh from you.
The two of you began walking toward the area Heeseung had been previously, where a large table had been set under a temporary canopy.
Scrolls and maps lay sprawled across it, Hwan stood nearby, his posture straight and composed as always, though his expression warmed when he saw you.
โPrincess (Y/N),โ Hwan greeted with a small nod, voice crisp.
โSir Hwan,โ you replied, offering a gentle smile as your eyes flicked toward the detailed flood plan spread out before you.
Ink lined the parchment in precise, looping scriptโnotes and arrows detailing various parts of the castle, side entrances, garden paths, and service tunnels. Red wax marked certain points, perhaps the ones in need of reinforcement.
The upcoming banquet was to host royals from three nearby kingdomsโit was no surprise security had become the highest concern.
Heeseung stepped beside you again, eyes flicking toward the plan. โWeโre adjusting the placements for the northern watchmen,โ he explained. โThe last storm weakened the stone wall near the greenhouse.โ
โI seeโฆโ you murmured, leaning in just a bit. โDoes that mean the western rose arch will be blocked off?โ
Heeseung blinked, a touch surprised. โYesโhow did you know that?โ
You smiled faintly. โI remember which part of the garden floods first. We used to race through there, remember? When we were younger?โ
Heeseung chuckled. โYou always cheated. Youโd pretend your skirt got caught, and Iโd turn around to helpโthen youโd sprint past me.โ
You tried not to laugh, but failed. โI never cheated.โ
Hwan cleared his throat politely, trying not to smile too much. โWell, if weโre done reliving the princessโs war crimesโฆโ
Heeseung chuckled, the sound low and fond as he pressed another kiss to the top of your headโlike habit. His hand curled more firmly around your waist as he turned back toward the map, eyes scanning the ink-streaked parchment with renewed focus.
โMinjun,โ he called, gesturing to one of the younger knights standing nearby, armor gleaming faintly under the sun.
โTake the final plan to the western and southern wings. Make sure Sir Jiwon and Sir Minho review them thoroughly. And pass it along to the patrols stationed at the back gardens.โ
โYes, Your Highness!โ the young knight responded quickly, already moving with purpose.
โAnd Sir Hwanโโ Heeseung added, catching his knight just as he began to turn away, โhold a meeting with the guards tomorrow morning. I want every possible weak point reinforced and every post briefed, understood?โ
โUnderstood, Your Highness.โ Hwan bowed at the waist, casting you a brief respectful smile before walking off. His exit left a small bubble of quiet around you and Heeseung amidst the occasional clatter of sparring swords and the buzz of wind.
With the absence of his ever-stoic personal knight, Heeseung turned fully to you.
A grin tugged at his lips, soft and lazy, like he had no interest in returning to the royal rhythm of duty just yet. He looked down at you, eyes twinkling, and then without warning, both hands found your hipsโgentle but confident.
You blinked up at him, caught off guard. โHeeseung,โ you hissed, eyes flickering to the side where a few knightsโnot so subtlyโpretended to focus on tying bootlaces or checking their gear. โAre you serious? In front of all these young men?โ
Heeseung only laughed, head tipping back slightly. The sound was musical and boyish and so unlike the Crown Prince everyone else bowed to.
โTheyโve seen worse,โ he teased, leaning in a little, nose brushing yours before pulling away just slightly. โBesides, Iโm only reminding them what love looks like.โ
You gawked at him, flustered and trying not to smile.
Heeseung's grin softened then, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against your hip. โDo you have plans this afternoon, my heart?โ he asked, voice low and full of intention. โBecause if not, I was going to steal you away.โ
You laughed under your breath, warmth bubbling in your chest. โI do, actually. Tea time.โ
Heeseung pouted dramatically. โAgain?โ
โYes, but this time your mother invited me,โ you said with a knowing look. โAnd apparently, your brother Sunoo begged her to include him. Said he was going insane from training every day, and sparring with Sunghoon is โslowly ruining his will to live.โ His words. Not mine.โ
That made Heeseung snort. โPoor Sunoo. I warned himโSunghoon takes no prisoners, not even in practice.โ
โHe said your brother has no mercy,โ you confirmed with a giggle, โand refuses to hold back just because heโs younger.โ
Heeseung rolled his eyes, mock-exasperated. โSunghoon doesnโt even hold back on me.โ
You shrugged playfully, โWell, he has your motherโs approval for being โdisciplined.โโ
Heeseung groaned. โPlease donโt tell me she said that again.โ
โShe did,โ you replied, smiling wide. โRight after she compared you to a โcloud of mischief.โโ
Heeseung dragged a hand down his face, clearly wounded. โIโm her firstborn. How is this fair?โ
You only leaned in to whisper, โYouโre my favorite prince. Thatโs all that matters.โ
Heeseung looked at you like you hung the stars just to light his way.
But a smirk crept up on his face, the type of playful mischief you knew all too well. He leaned in closer, voice low and teasing against your ear, โSo youโre sayingโฆ you have other favorites?โ
You gasped dramatically, eyes widening with faux betrayal. โWhat? I would neverโโ you paused for effect, then added with a grin, โBut if I didโฆ Jungwonโs a very close second.โ
Heeseung clicked his tongue, pretending to pull away. โUnbelievable. Betrayed in daylight. By my own betrothed.โ
You laughed, unable to hide your grin as you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. โYouโre still number one.โ
โI better be,โ he murmured, before cupping your cheek gently and stealing a real kiss this timeโsoft, warm, and full of all the affection he never seemed to run out of. You smiled into it, fingertips brushing the hem of his sleeve as you stayed there for a breath too long.
โIโm honored, noona!โ
You both startled at the voice, pulling away just in time to see Jungwon grinning wide, his hands clasped behind his back as he strolled over with a puffed-out chest. He practically radiated smugness.
โDidnโt mean to interrupt,โ he added innocently, though his mischievous eyes said otherwise.
You giggled, arms opening instinctively. โCome here, you.โ
The second youngest prince leaned in, wrapping you in a brief but warm hug. You ruffled his hair with a sisterly laugh just as Heeseung groaned beside you.
โOh no. Now weโre hugging him too?โ
Before Jungwon could respond, Heeseung reached over and roughly tousled the younger boyโs hair, effectively ruining the neat style Jungwonโs handmaid had worked on earlier that morning.
โHyung!โ Jungwon yelped, swatting at his older brotherโs hand with a glare. โDo you mind?!โ
Heeseung shrugged with a proud grin, not sorry in the slightest. โAffection builds character.โ
โIt builds trauma,โ Jungwon muttered under his breath, brushing his dark bangs back into place with a scowl.
Still, he didnโt move away right away. He just sighed, casting a sideways look at his brother before straightening his shoulders like he had something important to say. โCome on, hyung. Iโm not eleven anymore.โ
That made you smile fondly.
โI know,โ Heeseung said quietly, voice laced with something softer, something older. โBut youโll always be my annoying little brother.โ
Jungwon rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit before he turned on his heel with a dramatic huff. โWhatever. Just donโt embarrass me again in front of the knights!โ
Heeseung smirked as he watched the younger boy storm off.
โNo promises,โ he said, just loud enough for Jungwon to hear.
โI heard that!โ
You and Heeseung laughed, watching the youngest stalk toward the training field like a prince on a mission.
Still smiling, Heeseung turned to you again. โSoโฆ Jungwon, huh?โ
You looped your arm through his. โHeโs charming.โ
Heeseung made a dramatic face as he led you away from the courtyard, your steps falling into rhythm with his as you both began walking through one of the many open-air corridors that stretched between the training grounds and the main castle. Sunlight filtered through the tall arches, casting golden lines across the stone floors.
โCharming,โ he repeated, as if tasting the word. โUnbelievable.โ
You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm lightly. โCome on, donโt pout. Doesnโt he like some princess from the neighboring kingdom or something?โ
โMy love,โ he said with a faux-wounded pout, placing a hand over his chest. โYou are from the neighboring kingdom.โ
You gave him a deadpan look. โThe other one, Hee. You know what I mean.โ
He chuckled, his shoulder bumping yours as he nodded at a few knights that passed by and bowed to their Crown Prince. โIโm only teasing, my love. You wound me with your accusations.โ
โOh please,โ you drawled, pretending to flip your hair. โYouโd survive a thousand of my wounds and still crawl back with a bouquet of stolen garden roses.โ
โI donโt steal them,โ he said defensively, eyes wide. โI borrow them.โ
You snorted. โThey're still dying in a vase somewhere, my thief.โ
โAh, but they die for love,โ he whispered dramatically, and you both burst into quiet laughter, the sound echoing softly against the archways.
As you entered the main castle, the air shifted cooler against your skin. The familiar stretch of marble under your shoes and the pristine white-and-gold corridors felt like coming home.
You leaned into Heeseung naturally, no longer needing to keep up appearances of royalty. Here, you were just his. And he was just yours.
โDid you know,โ Heeseung started, voice low and casual, โthat one of the kitchen boys swears he saw a raccoon sneak into the pantry last night?โ
You blinked. โWhat?โ
โHe says it ran off with a wedge of brie. Iโm inclined to believe him.โ
You laughed, shaking your head. โIf itโs the same raccoon that stole my slippers last month, Iโm filing a formal complaint.โ
Heeseung smirked. โWeโll draft a letter. โTo His Royal Sneakiness, Lord Raccoon.โโ
โโPlease return the slippers. And the cheese.โโ
You both snorted again, shoulders brushing, hands nearly touching but not quite. Not until Heeseung gently reached over and linked your pinky with his.
As you approached the end of the hallway, two stationed knights nodded respectfully at Heeseung, who gave a short nod back, the air between you momentarily still.
Then, with a small tug, he guided you down a quieter wing of the castle and opened a pair of familiar ivory doorsโthe ones adorned with subtle silver embroidery, vines carved into the wood. Your shared bedroom.
It wasnโt common for betrotheds to share a room before marriage. But then again, nothing about you and Heeseung had ever been traditional.
Youโd known each other since you were in diapers, practically raised beside him during summer visits and royal meetings. Your parents were longtime allies, your mothers best friends, and your fathers forever trying to outmatch each other in chess.
So when Heeseung looked his parents in the eye and asked, โWhy wait?โโwith that charming, persuasive voice and soft gazeโthey had merely exchanged a look and nodded. And you had moved into the Crown Princeโs wing a week later.
Heeseung stepped aside to let you in first, hand brushing your lower back gently.
โI still canโt believe this room is technically mine too,โ you murmured, looking at the familiar blend of warm candles, velvet throws, and the little reading nook by the window heโd helped you decorate himself.
โYou say that every time,โ he smiled, closing the door behind you.
โAnd I mean it every time.โ
You moved to sit at the edge of the bed as Heeseung discarded his royal sash and coat onto the nearby chaise. He walked over, cupped your cheeks, and leaned down until his forehead pressed against yours.
โMy love,โ he said softly. โThis room was mine. But itโs only ever felt like home when you were in it.โ
โAnd, youโve been sleeping in the same bed with me since we were fifteen. Why do you always act like youโve kissed me for the first time?โ he murmured, eyes gleaming.
Your jaw dropped in disbelief. โYou arrogantโโ
Without hesitation, your fingers found his cheek and you pinchedโhard.
He hissed. โOwโ! Okay, okay, thatโs uncalled for!โ
โShut up, Lee Heeseung,โ you grumbled, though the amused twitch in your lips betrayed you.
He laughed, low and full, his hands finding your cheeks once moreโbut this time, there was no trace of playfulness in the way he tilted your chin upward, his gaze dropping to your lips. โCome here, then,โ he whispered.
And then he kissed you.
A proper one.
His mouth moved against yours with practiced ease, tilting just enough to deepen the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to keep you exactly where he wanted you. You sighed into him, hands curling around his forearms as the warmth between you bloomed fastโlike fire catching silk.
He pulled back barely an inch, just enough to catch his breath and your dazed expression. Then, without a single word, he sank onto the bed, tugging you by the waist and pulling you to straddle his lap.
You gasped, landing atop him with a jolt as your palms pressed against his chest.
โHeeseung!โ you hissed. โYou littleโโ
He cut you off, arms curling around your waist and dragging you in closerโflush now, no space between your chest and his, your skirts spilling around both of your legs. His lips brushed your ear.
โFinish that sentence, and Iโll make sure you say my name louder next time,โ he whispered.
Your breath hitched.
โHeeseung,โ you warned, voice trembling from the heat he lit in your stomach.
โYes, my love?โ he said, all mock innocenceโhis hands not-so-innocently sliding over your waist, fingers curling around the fabric at the dip of your back.
โI have tea with our mothers and Sunoo,โ you reminded, heart racing, mind spinning.
He clicked his tongue. โTheyโll understand. They adore you. Especially Sunooโhe probably planned this delay.โ
You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, resting your forehead on his. โWe canโt keep doing this in broad daylight.โ
โThen letโs get married already,โ he replied instantly, eyes gleaming as his grip on your hips tightened just slightly, anchoring you to him. โThat way, I can kiss my wife whenever I damn please.โ
You leaned in again, eyes twinkling, catching his lips in a playful kiss that had him chasing after more.
As you pulled back just enough to breathe the words into his mouth, you smiled, โWe are at the end of the month, patience, my prince.โ
But Heeseung only growled lowly, a sound vibrating in his chest, deep and utterly possessive.
โNot when you sit on me like this,โ he mutteredโvoice thick, the restraint cracking.
He didnโt wait for your teasing reply.
He surged forward, claiming your lips in a kiss that had nothing soft about it this time. It was all heat and desperationโhis mouth molding to yours, tongue brushing boldly against the seam of your lips until you gasped and gave in.
You couldnโt stop the small sound that escaped your throat, your fingers digging into the lapels of his shirt, clutching him like he was the only solid thing keeping you grounded.
Your breaths grew louder, shorterโshared between kisses that turned more and more feverish. Heeseung only paused to stare at you, chest rising and falling. His eyes, which held stars just seconds ago, were now blazing with something darker, needier.
And stillโstill so full of love.
He didnโt say anything as his hands moved behind you, already knowing what to doโhis fingers skillfully unlacing the back of your corset. It wasnโt the first time. It was second nature to him by now, and the realization sent a rush of heat all over you. While you would usually fumble with the ties for minutes at a time, he did it in less than ten seconds, eyes never leaving yours.
โShow-off,โ you muttered breathlessly, cheeks warm.
โYou wouldnโt need help if you didnโt keep choosing the ones with so many damn laces,โ he shot back with a smirk, but it faded as quickly as it appearedโhis gaze trailing down.
Your hands went to the buttons of his vest with haste, lips brushing against the edge of his jaw as you worked them open. He let you, watching with a hunger that made your fingers tremble slightly.
Once the last button gave, you pushed the garment off, and Heeseung flung it somewhere across the room with zero care.
โToo slow,โ he murmured.
You barely got a breath in before he was tugging at your sleeves, your dress slipping down your shoulders in one smooth motion. The soft fabric hung loosely on your arms, exposing the delicate skin of your collarbones, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath it.
โYouโre killing me,โ he said quietly, forehead leaning against yours again. โDo you know what you do to me?โ
You couldnโt answer. Not when he was looking at you like this.
Not when his mouth kissed every bit of skin the dress dared reveal. From your shoulder to the hollow of your throat. Slow. Devout. Like worship.
โI want you,โ he whispered into your skin. โNot just now. Not just like this. I want every part of you, every night, every morning. In this room. In that temple. Before the gods and after them.โ
You shivered, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. โYou already have me, Heeseung. You always have.โ
A guttural sound tore from his throat as his hand gripped the laces of your dress. โSay it again,โ he breathed, lips brushing against your collarbone.
โYou have me,โ you whispered, heart pounding. โEvery piece. Every breath.โ
With one swift motion, he loosened the bodice, the fabric sliding off your shoulders and pooling at your waist. He drew back slightly, chest rising and falling, eyes devouring the bare skin now revealed to him. His gaze was starvedโlike heโd waited centuries to touch you like this.
โMine,โ he groaned, hands trembling slightly as they moved over your ribs, your waist, the dip between your hipbones. โYouโre mine. Youโve always been mine.โ
His mouth followed the path of his handsโslow, deliberate. He kissed down your neck, nipping at the skin just below your jaw until a breathy moan escaped you. โYouโre so beautiful,โ he murmured, voice strained as he left a trail of marks, warm and tinged with devotion. โThe gods have nothing on you.โ
When his lips reached the softest part of your chest, his hands gripped your hips tightlyโalmost possessivelyโpressing his forehead against your sternum for a second like he was trying to calm himself.
Then he looked up at you, pupils blown. โIโll worship you like this,โ he said, voice rough, โuntil the stars burn out.โ
You didnโt get the chance to answer.
He grabbed your thighs, flipped you effortlessly onto your back, and pressed you into the mattress. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled the rest of your dress off with a low growl, letting it drop to the floor. His body hovered above yours now, heat radiating between you as your bare skin met his.
โYou make me lose control,โ he said, almost like a confession. โAnd I donโt want it back.โ
His mouth was everywhereโclaiming your neck, your shoulders, the curve of your stomach. His name slipped past your lips again and again, soft and helpless, like a prayer and a curse all at once.
He kissed you thenโdeep, head-spinning, like he wanted to taste your soul. โLet me have you,โ he murmured between kisses. โLet me love you the way I was always meant to.โ
And when he finally lowered himself between your legs, hands splayed across your hips, tongue tracing fire across your skin, he whispered, โIโll leave no part untouched.โ
His lips grazed the inside of your thigh, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing you inch by inch. His thumbs dragged upward, parting you gently, and when he looked upโeyes dark, hungry, reverentโyou nearly forgot how to breathe.
โStay just like this,โ he murmured, voice low, almost trembling. โLet me taste whatโs mine.โ
And then he buried his face between your thighs.
A gasp tore from your throat as his tongue moved against your coreโfirm, relentless, like he had something to prove. And maybe he did.
Maybe he was proving that no one else could ever make you feel like this. That no other hands, no other mouth, no other name would ever fall from your lips in this way.
Heeseung groaned against you, the sound vibrating straight through your bones. โYouโre everything,โ he muttered, voice muffled by your skin. โSweet. Divine. Addicting.โ
Your hips bucked, but his grip only tightenedโholding you down, keeping you open. โDonโt run from it,โ he said, looking up briefly, mouth glistening. โTake it. Take all of me.โ
Then he dove back inโslower this time, more intentional. He licked into you like a man starving, like he wanted to carve his name into you with every flick of his tongue.
Your fingers twisted into his hair, a moan spilling out of you so raw and desperate it made him groan againโdeeper this time, as if he felt it.
He sucked gently, then harder, then just rightโand your body arched, breath catching as your thighs shook around his head. โThatโs it,โ he whispered, not letting up. โCome undone for me. I want to feel you lose yourself.โ
And when you didโback arched, fingers digging into his scalp, his name a broken chant on your lipsโhe didnโt stop. Not even then.
Heeseung stayed there, kissing you through it, tongue softening to gentle licks, like he couldnโt bear to let go of the taste of you.
โYou taste like heaven,โ he said hoarsely, crawling back up your body. โAnd Iโm never going to stop sinning.โ
His mouth captured yours in a kiss so deep and possessive, it left you dizzy. His hand cradled the back of your head, the other splayed at your waist as he kissed you like heโd never let you go.
When he finally pulled away, your lips were parted, your breaths uneven, your body still aching for more.
You blinked at him, dazed. โI shouldโshouldnโt Iโฆ return the favor?โ you managed to breathe, fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. โItโs only fair.โ
But Heeseung only chuckled, low and fond. He clicked his tongue as he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, shaking his head. โNot now, my love,โ he said, tone full of mock discipline. โDonโt you have tea with our mothers and poor, bored Sunoo?โ
You stared at him, scandalized. โYouโ!โ
Your mouth hung open in shock, lips still tingling from his kisses, body still humming with want, and Heeseung had the audacity to smileโsmileโas he kissed you again. Tender, slow, and sweet. But the taste of you still lingered on his lips, and the moment it hit your tongue, your cheeks flushed deep crimson.
He pulled back with a grin, clearly satisfied with your flustered state. โThereโs that look I love,โ he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of your kiss-bitten mouth.
You squeaked as he got up, completely unhurried, and bent to retrieve your dress from where it lay pooled on the carpet. He handled it with surprising care, holding it up like it was made of glass, before walking over to grab your corset nextโstill slightly unlaced from earlier.
He turned to you, holding both items up. โCome now, princess. I may be a selfish man, but Iโm not about to be blamed for you being late to tea.โ
You narrowed your eyes at him. โYou are absolutely going to be blamed. You undressed me, Heeseung.โ
He only smirked as he crossed the room again, kneeling in front of you as he gently helped you slip back into the gown. โAnd Iโll do it again later,โ he whispered, wickedly close to your ear, โbut slower.โ
You hissed, slapping his shoulder lightly. โYou menace.โ
Heeseung laughed softly, guiding your arms through the sleeves and then slipping around to lace your corset like it was second natureโdeft fingers pulling the strings tight, not too firm, but enough for you to feel properly put together again. His knuckles grazed your back as he worked, and you swore he did it just to rile you up.
โYouโve done this way too many times,โ you mumbled, folding your arms as he tied the last ribbon neatly.
โPractice makes perfect,โ he replied cheekily, placing a final kiss on your shoulder before straightening up.
Your reflection in the gilded mirror caught your eyeโcheeks rosy, lips swollen, hair slightly mussed, but glowing in a way you couldnโt quite hide.
You groaned under your breath.
With a quick sweep, you pulled your hair over one shoulder, trying in vain to cover the fresh marks Heeseung had shamelessly left trailing along your neck and collarbone.
โYouโre unbelievable,โ you muttered as you frantically smoothed your sleeves and tried to pat down the mess of curls heโd tangled earlier.
Behind you, Heeseung strolled over, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. โHere,โ he said, lifting the delicate golden circlet that had been knocked off and tossed aside somewhere between his kisses and your surrender.
He gently placed it atop your head, careful not to tug or misplace a single strand. Then, with surprising finesse, he combed his fingers through your hair and pulled a few pieces loose to frame your face just right. The strands softened your features, made your flushed cheeks look like a gentle blush rather than a royal scandal.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. โForgive me for the mess, my love,โ he whispered against your skin, his voice laced with playful guilt.
You puffed out your cheeks, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. โMess? Heeseung, I look like I just survived a storm.โ
You puffed out your cheeks, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. โMess? Heeseung, I look like I just survived a storm.โ
โYou look like a woman in love,โ he teased, clearly far too pleased with himself. โAnd slightly ravished, yes, but radiant nonetheless.โ
You smacked his arm as he burst into soft laughter.
He reached for his coat from the chaise and slipped it on with practiced ease, but left his royal sash on the sideโtoo formal for a simple walk across the castle, and besides, you both knew he wanted an excuse to not look too princely in front of Sunoo, who would definitely tease him about it.
He offered his hand, and you took it with a begrudging sigh. โYouโre lucky Iโm fond of you.โ
โIโm aware,โ he grinned.
With your hand in his, he opened the door and gently tugged you along the corridor, nodding at the knights stationed nearby, who respectfully bowed but absolutely did not miss the light flush on your face or the smug tilt of Heeseungโs smile.
As the two of you walked, fingers still entwined, you couldnโt help but glance sideways at him.
โShould I expect a scolding from your mother for being late?โ
Heeseung hummed thoughtfully. โNo. But from Sunoo? Absolutely.โ
You groaned. โHeโs going to smell the perfume and still say, โWhy do you smell like sex?โโ
Heeseung laughed out loud. โBecause you do.โ
You narrowed your eyes. โYou planned this.โ
He just gave your hand a little squeeze. โI canโt help it. I like when you leave with part of me on you.โ
You choked back a soundโhalf flustered, half delightedโand smacked his chest again. โYouโre awful.โ
โAnd youโre late for tea.โ
You rolled your eyes fondly as Heeseung gently tugged you down the main marble steps and out into one of the many open-air gardens nestled in the kingdomโs sprawling palace grounds.
A breeze kissed your cheeks as the scent of lilacs and chamomile floated in the air, winding between columns and trellises of soft wisteria, the sunlight hitting just right
Then the scent grew strongerโsteeped lilac tea, freshly poured.
You paused with a soft inhale. โMy favorite,โ you murmured with a smile.
Heeseung glanced sideways at you, eyes already on your face. โYeah, I know,โ he said simply, like it was obviousโbecause to him, it was.
You rounded the hedge-lined path and reached the open gazebo area in the heart of the garden. Woven vines framed the white pillars and soft silks blew gently from above, casting dappled shadows on the large round table filled with silver-tiered trays of fruit tarts, scones, sweet breads, and golden jars of jam. The sound of bickering cut through the serene setting.
โNo, Iโm telling you! Apricot is a universal jamโlike, anyone would pick it!โ
โUniversal doesnโt mean itโs good, Riki! Raspberry is superior, and everyone with a tongue knows that!โ
You laughed under your breath at the familiar sight of Sunoo and Riki, seated on opposite ends and leaning toward each other with exaggerated scowls.
Sunooโs sleeves were dramatically pushed up like he was ready to duel with a spoon, and Rikiโs pout was so intense it couldโve curdled milk.
Your smile grew as your eyes landed on the two women seated elegantly between themโyour mother, Queen of your homeland, draped in soft burgundy with jewels that shimmered beneath the garden light, and Heeseungโs mother, the Queen of this kingdom, regal in deep navy lined with gold.
They sat side by side, teacups in hand, mid-conversation and sharing a laughโthe kind that spoke of decades of friendship, diplomacy, and sisterhood.
Heeseung slowed beside you, offering a slight bow of his head.
โMy queens,โ you said softly as you approached, your tone still laced with respect despite the fondness behind your eyes. You followed Heeseungโs lead, dipping your head slightly.
โOh, please,โ your mother groaned playfully. โDo we still have to do this every time?โ
The Queen beside her smiled knowingly. โYouโre about to be our daughter-in-law, not a courtier.โ
โSit, sit,โ your mother added with a wave of her hand.
You and Heeseung chuckled, and he leaned in to kiss the top of your head once more, hands resting on your arms just a moment longer before he let go.
โIโll leave you in good company,โ he said, eyes locking with yours. โTry not to let Sunoo drag you into jam debates.โ
Sunoo looked up, eyes wide. โYou agree with me, right?โ he demanded before Heeseung could even take a step back. โYou like raspberry more, right?โ
Heeseung only smirked. โI like peace and quiet. Which I clearly wonโt get here.โ
You snorted behind your hand as Heeseungโs mother laughed, waving her son off. โGo, Heeseung, before Sunoo recruits you into his crusade.โ
Heeseung chuckled and gave you a parting wink before disappearing through the garden arch.
You turned back to the table and gracefully took the seat beside your mother, smoothing down your skirts.
Sunoo immediately leaned in and whispered, โTell me you noticed the lip marks on your neck.โ
โSunoo!โ you hissed, glancing at the queens who pretended not to overhear, amused smiles tugging at their lips.
โWhat?โ Riki snorted, sipping his tea far too smugly. โYouโre the one who came back glowing like you just won a war.โ
You sighed deeply, cheeks already flushing again. โI hate both of you.โ
Your mother smiled behind her cup. โOh, sweetheartโฆ youโre in love. We were all insufferable once too.โ
The night of the banquet arrived with stars high and proud in the velvet sky, but even they would dim compared to what awaited within the castle walls.
You stood before the towering gilded mirror in your shared chambers, the scent of roses and lavender oils clinging softly to the air. Your hair was being twisted and pinned into perfection by skilled fingers, each strand smoothed and coiled as your lady-in-waiting delicately fastened glittering earrings to your ears.
Another slid your necklace into placeโa heavy yet elegant piece of red garnet and obsidian, catching the flickering glow of the chandelier like drops of fire and shadow.
Your gown was made of the richest velvet in black, kissed with deep red silk layers beneath, cascading like spilled wine around your legs. Embroidered gold vines twirled across the bodice and sleeves, wrapping you in something regal, something worthy of a queen.
A knock at the heavy oak doors pulled everyoneโs attention.
โMay I?โ Heeseungโs voice called from outside, deep and silken, already warm with a smile.
You barely had time to answer before the door cracked open, and there he wasโstanding in all his glory.
The red and black of his coat matched yours perfectly, the fabric gleaming with intricate golden embroidery and crystal embellishments that sparkled beneath the roomโs warm lights.
His broad shoulders carried the weight of a kingdom and yet, the moment his eyes found youโhis world narrowed.
He stood there, still, breath caught in his chest.
โโฆMy gods,โ he whispered. โYou look like you walked out of a dream.โ
You gave a soft wave of your hand, a simple motion that dismissed the flurry of handmaidens and attendants. With quiet bows and knowing smiles, they exited swiftly, leaving only the two of you in your glowing, silent world.
Heeseung didnโt wait.
He crossed the room in long, purposeful strides and spun you gently in place, eyes devouring every inch of your form. Your dress flared at your movement, brushing against the polished marble like a whisper.
โYouโre unreal,โ he murmured, hands settling on your waist as he stopped your twirl. โYou look like a flame carved into royalty.โ
โAnd you,โ you teased, trailing your fingers down the gleaming lapel of his coat. โLook like temptation in human form.โ
Heeseung grinned, gaze dropping to your lips for half a second too long. โThen what happens when royalty meets temptation?โ
You raised a brow, smirking as you replied, โA scandal the bards will sing about for centuries.โ
Heeseung laughed, rich and deep, before tugging you closer by the waist. โLet them sing, my love. Let them sing.โ
His forehead pressed gently to yours. โTonight, everyone will see what Iโve always known.โ
โThat Iโm yours?โ you whispered.
โNo.โ He shook his head slowly. โThat Iโm yours.โ
He kissed your hand before pulling your arm through his.
โShall we go make the entire kingdom jealous?โ
You grinned, your fingers tightening around his. โLead the way, my prince.โ
With that, Heeseung offered his arm like a true royal consort and guided you out of the warm, perfumed sanctuary of your shared chambers. The heavy double doors closed behind you, and the subtle echo of your steps fell against the polished stone floors.
Two royal knightsโadorned in your shared kingdomโs colors of crimson and onyxโfollowed at a respectful distance, silent and poised.
The corridor was dimly lit by torchlight, flickering shadows casting dancing patterns across the walls. But inside your little bubble, the world felt quieter, warmer. You and Heeseung strolled side by side, caught in easy conversation that dissolved any remaining nerves.
โDo you remember last monthโs banquet?โ Heeseung asked with a smirk, nudging your side.
โYou mean the one where you complained about the wine?โ you teased, arching a brow.
He scoffed dramatically. โIt wasnโt wine. It was grape juice in disguise.โ
You burst into soft laughter. โYou pouted about it for a full hour. Told the steward you expected something aged, not squeezed fresh that morning.โ
โIโm a prince. I expect stringency in my wine,โ he said in a mock-snobby voice, chin tilted upward as you giggled.
But your smile faded slightly as you reached the archway that led to the Great Hall. You could already hear itโthe hum of noble chatter, bursts of light laughter, and the elegant trill of string instruments playing from the balcony above. The scent of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air.
Your posture straightened instinctively, hands smoothing down the front of your gown. Heeseung noticed.
He slowed his pace, his hand sliding gently around your waist to pull you closer. His lips dipped to your ear, his voice low and soothing.
โThereโs nothing to be scared of, my love,โ he whispered. โThey should be scared of you.โ
โYou are the future Queen of both kingdoms,โ he continued, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a quiet storm of pride behind his smile. โAnd youโve already won their prince.โ
Your cheeks warmed, but the nerves began to ease. You exhaled, squeezing his hand in silent gratitude. โThank you,โ you whispered.
Heeseung only grinned, squeezing back once before the chamberlain standing just outside the banquet doors struck his staff once against the marble.
โPresenting,โ he boomed, his voice echoing through the high-arched ceilings, โCrown Prince Lee Heeseung of House Lee, and Crown Princess (L/N) (Y/N) of House (L/N).โ
At once, the hall stilled. Music faltered. Conversations died mid-sentence. It was like the world hushedโlike the wind itself bowed.
All eyes turned.
Every noble, every knight, every courtly guest from both your homeland and Heeseungโs, rose from their seats. Heads lowered in bows and curtsies, hands pressed over hearts in solemn reverence. But more than formality, there was aweโundeniable aweโat the sight of you two.
Your steps were fluid as you and your prince made your way toward the long banquet table seated at the front of the room. Your parents were already seatedโyour mother glowing in cream and emerald, your father in sleek royal navy. Heeseungโs parents sat beside them, regal and composed, eyes glinting with something between pride and fondness.
The long table had empty seats between the kings and queensโbut your eyes caught the familiar shadows of six tall figures standing further back. The other six princes. They stood at the side of the hall, backs straight, hands clasped behind them, watching as the two of you passed.
When you drew near, they bowed in unison with the crowdโa sea of heads dipping low in reverence.
But only they rose slowly, eyes glinting with quiet respect.
Jungwon was the first to lift his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he mouthed dramatically, โAbout time.โ
You suppressed a laugh.
Heeseung only rolled his eyes subtly and pulled your chair out for you like the proper gentleman he always was. โYour throne, my queen,โ he teased softly.
The moment you were both seated, the hall gradually stirred back to life. Conversations resumed, the orchestra picked up its melody again, and the clinking of goblets filled the golden-lit room.
You greeted your parents firstโyour mother reached over the table to press a kiss to your cheek, her rings cool against your skin. โYou both look stunning,โ she said, eyes dancing. โBut donโt just sit there like old monarchs.โ
โGo,โ Heeseungโs mother added, smiling behind her teacup. โSocialize. Be young. Dance. Be adored.โ
Your father gave a playful huff. โYes, yes, impress your subjects.โ
Heeseung let out a breathy laugh and rose from his seat, pulling your chair out once again as he offered you his hand. โShall we obey our queens and kings?โ
You took it with a grin. โWhat choice do we have?โ
He placed a gentle hand at the small of your back as he led you from the front dais and into the growing crowd. Your gown swished elegantly around your legs as you walked, and the subtle music and chatter wrapped around you like silk.
It didnโt take long to reach the cluster of princes near the long side of the roomโfamiliar faces all dressed in variations of dark velvet, adorned with gold, sapphire, and crimson embellishments. The other royal heirs.
โLook who decided to show up,โ Jongseong teased as he raised his glass at your approach, eyes glinting. โAnd matching too. I shouldโve expected the dramatics.โ
โYouโre just jealous,โ Heeseung quipped, โthat your partner doesnโt coordinate with you.โ
โYou donโt have a partner,โ Jaeyun pointed out.
โExactly my point,โ Heeseung smirked.
You couldnโt help but laugh, stepping a little closer to the group whenโ
โOh my gods!โ A familiar voice squealed behind you.
You turned just in time to be pulled into a sudden, elegant hug, delicate perfume surrounding you as Wonyoung grinned from ear to ear.
โIt is you,โ she beamed. โI told Yujin it was you and she said, โNo, that canโt be her, sheโs probably still getting readyโโโ
โThat does sound like me,โ Yujin said with a giggle as she joined, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace. โBut seriously, look at you! This dress? That crown? Prince Heeseungโs gonna have a hard time keeping people away tonight.โ
โPlease, heโs already glaring at everyone who makes eye contact with her,โ Wonyoung whispered playfully, tipping her head toward your prince.
You glanced backโHeeseung, very much still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon, had his arm folded as he gave the other prince a look. You couldnโt hear the words, but you definitely saw the eye roll Sunghoon gave in response.
โStill boring as ever,โ Woonyoung said under her breath, giving Sunghoon a pointed look.
Heeseung caught the tail end of that and shook his head with a laugh, muttering to Sunghoon, โDonโt mind them, theyโve been like this since we were kids.โ
โI do mind, actually,โ Sunghoon muttered back dryly, lifting his glass. โI was having a nice quiet moment before the fanclub showed up.โ
โOh, poor baby,โ Wonyoung cooed sarcastically.
You giggled as she and Yujin each hooked an arm through yours, pulling you just a little away from the boys and deeper into the social haze of the room.
โYou have to tell us everything,โ Yujin said, eyes wide with curiosity. โHowโs your room? Did the Queen really let you redecorate the west wing? Is it true that Heeseung almost punched a steward for misplacing your earrings last week?โ
โOkay, that one was not my faultโโ you began.
โDefensive,โ Wonyoung grinned. โThat means itโs true.โ
You let out a snort, eyes trailing briefly to Heeseung just a few feet away, standing tall among his brothers. He caught your gaze with that familiar amused tilt of his head, his lips twitching as if he was holding back a laugh of his own.
โI swear,โ Wonyoung continued, drawing your attention back. โSunghoon nearly pushed me into the fountain last week.โ
โWhat?โ you blinked.
โAll I said was that he walks like he owns the ground he steps on,โ she huffed dramatically, flipping her hair. โWhich is true, by the way. And he said, โPerhaps you should walk on water next time so I donโt have to see your face.โ Can you believe that?โ
You burst into laughter, hand covering your mouth as Yujin gasped beside you. โHe did not say that.โ
โOh, he did. Ask him.โ Wonyoung nodded toward Sunghoon, whoโunaware he was being discussedโwas now slowly sipping from his own goblet, side-eyeing the trio of you as if expecting more trouble.
You and the girls dissolved into giggles again, your shoulders bumping lightly as the night continued to swell with warmth and music. Soon enough, more familiar faces began approaching, drawn to the lively cluster you had unintentionally created.
A group of princesses from neighboring kingdoms swept in, silk gowns gliding across the marble floor, their hair braided in intricate gold-threaded patterns, each one offering hugs and kisses on the cheek in greeting.
โPrincess (Y/N), itโs been too long.โ
โYou look divine tonight, truly.โ
โWe heard about your new positionโCrown Princess now, huh?โ
You smiled graciously, cheeks warming under the compliments as you exchanged hugs and pleasantries, your fingers brushing over glittering sleeves and layered skirts. The perfume of lilac and fresh berries mixed with the sound of laughter and violins in the air.
Then, Yujin reappeared with a golden goblet, holding it out to you with a grin.
You eyed it skeptically. โYou know I have the alcohol tolerance of a dying rabbit, right?โ
โItโs not wine, your highness,โ she sing-songed, lifting her chin. โItโs grape juice. I promise. I even tasted it.โ
You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. โYujin, last time you said that I ended up singing to a ficus tree.โ
โThat ficus was deeply moved,โ Wonyoung said solemnly, hand over her chest. โYou had it in tears.โ
You rolled your eyes but took the goblet anyway, the cool metal glinting in the light. You took a sipโsweet, chilled grape juice, just as sheโd said.
โโฆOkay, fine,โ you mumbled. โYouโre forgiven.โ
Yujin smiled smugly. โAs I always am.โ
The chatter around you buzzed softlyโprincesses and lords weaving in and out of conversations, the noble youth of kingdoms mingling under chandeliers and candlelight.
You glanced once more toward Heeseung, only to find he was already watching you. Elbow leaned against a polished oak table, golden goblet in hand, the lamplight tracing the sharp line of his jaw. His head tilted in quiet admiration, lips slightly curled upward like he couldnโt help himself.
You gave him a soft smile, one only he could read through the crowd, and mouthed, โIโm okay.โ
His grin deepened just slightly before he dipped his head in a subtle nod, his attention returning to the conversation he was having with someone you recognized instantlyโPrince Taehyun of the Southern Kingdom, poised and calm as always, expression unreadable even while sipping wine.
โDid you hear,โ Yujin leaned in close to whisper behind her goblet, her voice conspiratorial, โPrince Beomgyuโs got it bad for Taehyunโs older sister?โ
Your brows shot up. โSeriously?โ
โOh, deadly serious. And Taehyun doesnโt approveโโ she paused, nose wrinkling, โโor disapprove. Which, honestly, makes it worse.โ
You couldnโt help the laugh that bubbled up. โOf course he doesnโt. Heโs too diplomatic to give a straight answer.โ
Wonyoung perked up beside you, eyes wide. โWait, wait. Isnโt she the one who wore that gold corset at the Summer Moon banquet last year?โ
โThe very one,โ Yujin confirmed, nodding. โAnd Beomgyuโs been in love ever since. Iโm telling you, itโs been a mess.โ
You nearly choked on your sip of juice, laughing. โOh godsโdo you remember the night Beomgyu told me about it?โ
Yujin blinked, then her mouth split into a knowing grin. โThe drunken night in Dalanorโs banquet hall?โ
You nodded, eyes sparkling at the memory. โHe had one too many glasses of wine and started ranting about how Taehyun keeps throwing him into a spiral.โ
Wonyoung leaned in eagerly. โWhat did he say?โ
โHe was so drunk, he grabbed Heeseungโs shoulder like he was the last sane man in the world,โ you said through a giggle, โand went, โYour Highness, is it yes or no? Does he want me to marry her or does he want to stab me in my sleep?โโ
Yujin laughed, nearly spilling her drink. โI remember Heeseungโs face! He just laughed and poured him another drink.โ
You grinned. โAnd Beomgyu started sobbing into his goblet about how Taehyun winked at him when he mentioned the wedding idea. A wink. What does a wink even mean?โ
โIt means,โ Wonyoung drawled dramatically, โwelcome to royal romance hell.โ
The three of you burst into laughter again, the sound bubbling up and mixing with the music in the air. You glanced back over toward Heeseung just in time to see him casually glance your way once moreโhis gaze lingering for a beat longer than it needed to, as if your laugh pulled his focus no matter where he stood.
Then he turned back to Taehyun, the two princes deep in what looked like a heated discussion about wineโor possibly the definition of flirtingโwhile the night carried on around you.
You fidgeted with your fingers, gloved hands resting delicately over the fabric pooled at your lap. The royal carriage swayed gently with each turn, the soft creak of gilded wheels and distant sounds of celebration muffled behind velvet-lined walls.
Your white wedding gownโstitched with fine silver thread and delicate pearlsโbillowed across the floor like a river of moonlight. It was heavy, grand, and far too large for the carriageโฆ but you didnโt mind.
Matching jewelry adorned your ears, neck, and wristsโheirloom pieces passed down through generations, each gemstone kissed by history and polished for this day.
Your veil shimmered like frost under the faint sunlight peeking through the curtained window, yet none of it glittered as brightly as your nerves.
Across from you, your mother and father sat side by side, their fingers loosely intertwined as they watched you with a softness that only parents could carry.
Your mother smiled first, the kind that carried decades of wisdom behind it. โYour hands always fidget when youโre nervous,โ she said, gently reaching over to fix a strand of hair that had slipped from your veil.
โBut you donโt need to be. Youโre marrying for loveโnot alliance, not duty. That alone makes your union more powerful than any treaty signed before it.โ
You blinked, lips parting in a slow smile. โDo you really think so?โ
โI know so,โ she replied, squeezing your hand. โIโve seen the way Heeseung looks at you. Like the stars themselves would bow if you asked them to. That kind of devotion cannot be taughtโitโs rare, and itโs real.โ
You felt your throat tighten just a little.
Then your father let out a quiet sigh, the sound a little too heavy to hide. His eyes stayed on you, warm and just slightly glassy. โI told myself Iโd be ready for this,โ he said. โBut nothing could prepare me to see my little girl in a wedding gown.โ
You tried to laugh, but it came out half choked. โYouโre going to make me cry.โ
He reached for your hand, squeezing it between his own. โYouโll always be my little girl. Even when you're crowned queen. Even when you have children of your own. That will never change.โ
You nodded slowly, breathing through the swell in your chest. โThank you, Father. Thank you both.โ
The carriage began to slow, the golden wheels rolling over polished stone as the sound of bells rang out in the distance.
Your breath hitched. You could hear the faint murmur of voices outside, the gathered crowd, the musicโฆ and just beyond it all, the sacred templeโits white marble steps lined with petals, towering pillars wrapped in garlands of lilacs and white roses, the banner of your kingdom billowing gently in the breeze beside Heeseungโs.
A high priest awaited at the top of the stairs, hands folded in reverence. The temple doors stood open, glowing with sunlight pouring through stained glass windows. It looked like a dream carved into reality.
The door to the carriage opened with a creak.
Your father stepped out first, extending his hand to help you. You took a deep breath as your gloved fingers slid into his, and your feet touched the polished stone ground. The hem of your gown brushed the flower-strewn path as you stood tall, eyes lifting toward the temple ahead.
โReady?โ your father asked, voice low beside you.
You nodded, slowly, then turned to look back one last time at the carriageโat the road that brought you hereโand finally, forward again. โYes. Iโm ready.โ
Your mother let out the smallest breath of a smile, a hand delicately pressing over her heart as she watched you with glassy eyes. One of the royal knights approached her with a polite bow, then gently extended his arm.
She took it with practiced grace, allowing herself to be escorted to her place at the front row of the templeโwhere the sacred lights from the stained-glass windows painted the marble floors in hues of gold and violet.
You stood at the start of the long aisle, the flower-strewn carpet lined with lanterns and pale petals. The air inside the temple was reverent, heavy with the scent of lilac and rosewater, lit only by candlelight and divine sunbeams that poured through the windows like blessings themselves.
And at the end of it allโstanding before the altar beneath arching stone and blooming ivyโwas Heeseung.
His white ceremonial suit shimmered under the temple lights, the gold embroidery gleaming with each breath he took. Crystals lined the trim of his royal jacket, catching the light like stars. His hair was perfectly styledโyet a single strand still fell naturally over his browโand gods, he had never looked more like a king.
Heeseung swore his breath left his lungs.
The moment your figure stepped onto the aisle, framed by light and shadow, your gown flowing like starlight behind you and veil trailing with each slow, graceful stepโhe couldnโt stop the smile that bloomed across his lips. Not the small kind. Not the gentle kind. The full kind, the one that crinkled his eyes and made his chest ache with a thousand unsaid words.
โBy the gods,โ he murmured under his breath. โSheโs real.โ
He couldnโt move. Couldnโt blink. Could only stand there in full awe as if you were the very goddess the temple was built for.
Your gaze met hisโwarm, filled with every memory and every dream youโd ever shared. And as you stepped closer and closer to the altar, the sounds of hushed gasps and admiration filled the pews.
Heeseung barely heard them. He only saw you.
At the end of the aisle, your father stood tall but emotional as he gently guided you the last few steps forward. Once the music slowed, he turned toward Heeseung, looking the prince in the eye with all the weight of a father handing off the most precious thing heโd ever protected.
He took Heeseungโs hand and placed yours in it.
โTake care of her,โ your father said, his voice deep but warm, soft with meaning. โSheโs always been our light.โ
Heeseungโs expression softened instantly. He noddedโnot with stiff formality, but with reverent sincerity. โAlways,โ he whispered. โWith all I have.โ
Your father gave a small, proud smile before stepping aside, finding his seat beside your mother, who wiped the corner of her eye with her silk handkerchief.
You and Heeseung now stood before the altar together.
Fingers interlocked.
He looked down at you, and the way his thumb grazed the back of your knuckles sent a wave of calm through you.
โYou look like every prayer I never thought would be answered,โ he murmured so only you could hear. โAnd I mustโve done something right in a past lifeโฆ because you're walking straight to me.โ
You felt your heart rise to your throat as your eyes welled upโbut you smiled, wide and unstoppable.
โThen hold me like youโll never let me go,โ you whispered back, voice trembling slightly.
โI already do,โ Heeseung breathed, gaze locked on yours. โI already have.โ
And somewhere behind you, the temple bells began to chime.
The ceremony was about to begin.
The gods were watching.
And the entire kingdom held its breathโfor this union, for this love, for the future they believed in.
Laughter spilled from your lips like music, even as your hand tightened around Heeseungโs. The sky was dusted with sunset, the air alive with the roaring cheers of thousandsโyour people, your kingdom, the witnesses to a union that would be written into history books and bedtime stories alike.
โCareful,โ Heeseung chuckled, eyes glinting as he helped you navigate the ornate steps of the royal carriage. โThe gownโs winning the battle right now.โ
You gave him a playful glare but let him hoist the heavy train of your dress just enough so you could climb inside without tripping. The velvet cushions cradled you immediately, the whole space fragrant with rose petals and wild lilacโgifts from the palace staff who had prepared it in secret.
Heeseung followed in after you, and the moment he closed the door behind himโsealing out the deafening celebration, the blinding flash of royal photographers, the weight of the worldโ
He turned to you.
And pulled you into him.
The kiss was firm and full of everything he hadnโt said at the altar. His hands cradled your jaw with devotion, lips pressing to yours like they were finding home.
You smiled against his mouthโbecause how could you not?โarms wrapping around his shoulders as your laughter was swallowed into the warmth of him.
He only pulled away when your lungs begged for air.
And even then, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, fingers trembling ever so slightly as his gaze dropped to the dazzling ring glittering on your finger.
A rare golden band, wrapped in tiny vines of diamonds. At its centerโa stone so clear and so rare, it was said to have been taken from the godsโ altar themselves, gifted only to royal soulmates.
Heeseung sighed softly, brushing his lips against the gem once more, before lifting his gaze back to you.
โMy wife,โ he whispered, as if saying it for the first time made it real. His voice cracked with the weight of it, eyes shining like the stars overhead. โMy beautiful wife.โ
The word settled in your chest like a prayer answered.
You reached forward, cupping his cheek, fingers threading into the strands of his dark hair that had begun to fall from their styled place. His skin was warm under your touch, his eyesโgod, his eyesโwere filled with nothing but wonder.
Your voice trembled as tears began to blur your vision. โAnd youโre my husband,โ you whispered. โMy beginning. My middle. And my always.โ
Heeseungโs eyes fluttered shut for a second, as if the moment was too much. Then he leaned into your touch, turning just enough to kiss your palm.
โRemind me to thank the gods for making you,โ he said softly, pressing your forehead against his. โBecause there is no way I deserved this. Deserved you.โ
โYou deserve everything,โ you whispered, pulling him closer. โEverything, Heeseung.โ
You let out a soft breath, letting your forehead rest gently against his chest, the rise and fall of it slow and steady beneath your cheek.
His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer, your white gown crinkling slightly between your bodies but neither of you cared.
โWeโre headed to the island, right?โ you murmured into the fabric of his coat, fingers curling around the lapel, the velvet soft under your touch.
Heeseung hummed, chin resting gently on the top of your head, his voice vibrating against your cheek. โMhm. The very island I had that mansion built onโฆ for us.โ
He smiled as he spoke, almost shy about it. โJust for the two of us to spend our honeymoon in peace. No titles. No duties. Just you. Me. And the sea.โ
You giggled, tilting your head up slightly to press a kiss to the tip of his chin. โI swear, I have the best husband ever. The perfect prince ever.โ
That made his whole face light up. He beamed, heart full, like he was just realizing he could finally hold you like this without rules or eyes or limits. His hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin as he whispered, โYouโre perfect. Really perfect.โ
You flushed, lips curling in a soft smile. โWellโฆ Iโm just glad the island isnโt that far from the mainland. At least we can come and go whenever we want.โ
Heeseung snorted, pulling back just enough to give you a playful look. โYou mean you can come and go as you please,โ he said, eyes teasing. โBecause you have a habit of storming off on me, my love.โ
You gasped with a laugh, swatting lightly at his chest. โThat was one timeโ!โ
โThree,โ he corrected smoothly. โOnce after I forgot your birthday flower, the other when I fell asleep halfway through your poetry readingโโ
You narrowed your eyes. โAnd the third?โ
He grinned. โI donโt even remember, I think you were just being dramatic.โ
You let out a mock gasp of offense, which only made Heeseung laugh harder. He pulled you back in, kissing your temple as he whispered, โIโll follow you to the ends of the earth, you know. Even if you storm off again.โ
โEven in this giant dress?โ you teased, gesturing to the sheer volume of fabric surrounding you.
He nodded solemnly. โEven if I have to carry you and the fifteen layers of it across the entire kingdom.โ
You bit your lip to keep from laughing too loudly, burying your face back into his chest as the carriage bumped gently along the roadโyour fingers tangled in his, your heart full, your future already unfolding before you in soft gold and island winds.
You gasped as Heeseung thrust into you again, deep and unrelenting, his rhythm messy and desperate nowโetiquette forgotten, restraint burned to ash.
He moaned low into your ear, voice wrecked. โFuckโbeen dreaming of this,โ he whispered, lips dragging along your jaw. โYears of holding backโdo you even know what youโve done to me?โ
You whimpered, arching into him as your nails raked down his back, drawing soft, broken curses from his lips. โHeeseungโโ
โThatโs it,โ he breathed, kissing you hard, possessive. โSay my name like that again, sweetheartโpleaseโโ
โHeeseung,โ you gasped, body trembling under him, overwhelmed by the sheer stretch and heat of him, of this, of everything. โYouโre my husbandโy-youโre really mineโโ
That did something to him.
He growled low in his throat, pulled out, and you whined at the lossโbut then he flipped you onto your stomach, firm and commanding, and patted your ass twice, a dark gleam in his eyes as he said, โUp, love. Let me see you.โ
You obeyed on instinct, body moving to all fours, ass raised, face flushed against the pillows.
โFuck,โ he muttered behind you, dragging his hands down your spine. โLook at youโฆ gods, youโre perfect.โ
He lined himself up again, the thick head of his cock brushing against you, teasing, making you whine and twitch in anticipation.
โBeg for it,โ he said, voice barely steady. โJust once. Please, babyโafter everythingโI need to hear it.โ
โPlease, Heeseung,โ you whimpered, backing against him. โPleaseโฆ I need you.โ
He slammed back into you with a groan that echoed off the high ceilings, one hand gripping your hip, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. The sound of skin meeting skin was shameless, vulgar, as he lost himself in the heat of you, panting curses into your shoulder.
โYou feel like fucking heaven,โ he moaned, head dropping to your back. โThis bodyโthis fucking body was made for me.โ
Your cries grew louder as his thrusts deepened, more erratic nowโdriven by years of pent-up love, desire, obsession.
When he reached forward and wrapped his fingers around your throat, pulling your back to his chest, he whispered against your ear: โMine. My queen. My wife. Iโll spend the rest of my life ruining you like this.โ
And as your walls clenched around him, body trembling from the pleasure blooming like wildfire inside you, he kissed your templeโsoft, reverent, the only gentle thing in that momentโand whispered, โGive it to me, love. Let go. Let me have all of you.โ
You shattered with a cry, the kind that echoed off the walls, one hand gripping the sheets as your body convulsed around him. Your release hit hardโwhite-hot and overwhelmingโand Heeseung groaned against your skin, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him.
โThatโs it,โ he rasped, pressing kisses along your shoulder, hips still lazily rocking into your overstimulated body. โFuckโso good for me, so perfect.โ
You could barely breathe, chest rising and falling as sweat clung to your skin. But Heeseung wasnโt doneโnot even close.
He hooked two fingers under your chin, lifting your face to meet his. Your eyes were glossy with tears, lips parted as soft whimpers spilled out of you. Heeseungโs gaze flickered between your eyes and mouth, his own expression completely undone.
โYouโre so fucking beautiful like this,โ he murmured, then kissed youโsloppy, desperate, like he was trying to taste the moans still lingering in your throat.
But then he pulled awayโjust enough to flip you back onto your back, drawing a gasp from your lips as he manhandled you closer to the edge of the bed.
โHeeseungโโ you breathed, voice cracking.
He leaned down, kissed the tears slipping from the corners of your eyes with such gentleness it made your heart ache.
โI know, baby,โ he whispered. โI know. But I need you one more time.โ Then he raised your legs, resting them over his shoulders, and thrust back in.
Your cry was broken, high and breathless, your hands flying to his arms for something to hold onto as your body arched into him.
โStill so tight,โ he groaned, hips rolling into you deep and slow, like he was savoring every second. โGods, you take me so well, even afterโfuck, Iโll never get over this.โ
You sobbed softly, overwhelmed by the stretch, the intensity, the sheer love in the way he moved inside you.
He leaned down, folding your legs closer to your chest, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, โLook at me. Let me see you fall apart again.โ
And then he slammed into youโhard and sloppy, each thrust punching a moan out of your throat as he hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back instantly.
โHeeseungโahโ!โ you cried, voice ragged, high, needy.
โThatโs it,โ he rasped, watching your face with a wild hunger in his eyes. โThatโs the face I wanted to seeโgods, look at youโso gone for me.โ
You couldnโt speak. Could barely breathe. The pleasure was blinding, white-hot and all-consuming as he plunged into you over and over, cock hitting so deep and so perfect, your body had no choice but to obey.
Your mouth hung open, drooling a little, moaning with every deep, brutal thrustโand Heeseung ate it up like a man possessed.
โFuck, baby,โ he groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as his pace grew faster, rougher. โIโve fucked you stupid, havenโt I?โ
You whimpered, tried to answer, but only a breathless moan left your lips.
He smirked darkly. โCanโt even talk. Just taking it. Letting me ruin you.โ
Your body jolted with every movement of his hips, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the chamber like a prayer.
โIโm close,โ he panted, voice shaking. โYouโre squeezing me so tight, gods, Iโm gonnaโfuckโโ
You could only whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks again from the overwhelming heat building inside you.
He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear, voice low and wrecked. โIโll fill you up,โ he whispered. โMake you mine. Want you so round and full of me. Barefoot in the palace with my child inside youโfuck, baby, youโd look so perfect like that.โ
A strangled moan ripped out of you, nails digging into his arms as your legs trembled around his shoulders.
โWanna get you pregnant,โ he kept going, voice turning desperate as his thrusts grew rougher. โWanna see your belly swell. Everyoneโll know youโre mineโall mine. My wife. My queen. My everything.โ
You cried out, and he kissed the tears from your cheeks again, groaning as your body tightened around him.
โGonna give it to you,โ he gasped. โTake itโtake all of meโโ
And then he buried himself deep one final time, spilling inside you with a long, low moan, his whole body shaking as he pressed his forehead to yours, breath ragged, arms trembling.
โI love you,โ he whispered against your lips. โI love youโI love youโI love you.โ
He kissed you againโdeep, slow, as if trying to pour every bit of himself into your mouth, like he didnโt know where he ended and you began. His hands were still trembling, still greedy even now, cradling your face.
Then, slowly, gently, he eased your legs down from his shoulders, never once letting go. His hips shifted just enough so that he could wrap his arms around you, rolling onto his side and taking you with himโstill buried inside you, warm and full and his.
You let out a soft gasp as your body adjusted, sensitive and raw, but comforted by his arms pulling you flush against his chest.
Heeseung let out a shaky exhale, pressing his nose into your hair. โStill with me?โ he murmured, lips brushing your temple.
You nodded sleepily, breath shallow, heart pounding as you pressed your palm against his bare chestโfeeling his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips.
He kissed your forehead, and then your cheek, then the corner of your lips, his voice low and thick. โIโm not pulling out,โ he mumbled, half-drunk on love, half-drunk on you. โNot yet. Not ever.โ
You laughed softlyโweaklyโbody still pulsing from everything. โYouโre serious.โ
โDead serious,โ he muttered, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wanted to fuse your bodies together. โI meant what I said, you know. About getting you pregnant. About seeing you with my child.โ
โI want all of it,โ he whispered. โYou in this bed, in our castle. You walking through the palace holding your stomach. You with my name, my ring, my child. I want everything.โ
You could barely speak. So you just whispered, โYou already have everything.โ
His eyes fluttered shut at that, a soft, boyish smile tugging at his lips.
The room was quiet, save for your breathing, the soft rustle of the silk sheets tangled beneath you. You were both still trembling from the aftermathโbut wrapped in him, filled by him, you felt like the world had stopped moving just for the two of you.
The royal library was bathed in the soft light of the afternoon sun, golden beams streaking through the high arched windows. The gentle rustle of pages echoed quietly, along with Jaeyunโs voice reading aloud from a worn leather-bound storybook.
โโฆand then the young prince lifted the veil of thorns, finding the princess fast asleep, untouched by time, heart still waiting for his,โ Jaeyun read, lips curling into a fond smile as he glanced down at your belly, voice softening even more. โHe kissed her, andโโ
You huffed, adjusting your position with an audible grunt as you shifted your weight on the deep-cushioned couch. It was custom-made, one of Heeseungโs many attempts to appease your growing complaints about how โevery chair in the palace was clearly built for pain and suffering.โ
Jaeyun winced. โUhโฆ did I do something wrong, noona?โ he asked carefully, lowering the book.
You sighed heavily and gave him a sweet smile, brushing his arm. โNo, sweet boy. Youโre perfect. Donโt let the thundercloud above my head scare you.โ
His brows furrowed in confusion before glancing upโand thatโs when he saw your husband, standing near the grand shelf of magical history books, looking like a deer caught in divine, hormonal headlights.
Heeseung blinked. โWhatโฆ whatโd I do?โ
You didnโt answer right away. You just stared. A slow, furious, finger-pointing kind of glare.
Heeseung looked behind him. Then pointed at himself. โMe?โ
Jaeyun immediately started packing up the book with the speed of a trained soldier. โIโm gonna, umโฆ give you two some privacy. Or leave the continent. Whicheverโs safer.โ
You gently held his wrist. โYou didnโt do anything wrong, Jaeyun. Donโt let the idiot standing near the bookshelf convince you otherwise.โ
Heeseungโs jaw dropped. โWaitโwhat idiotโhey!โ
Thatโs when you sniffled. Loudly. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes as your lip trembled, and you looked down at your round belly, hand resting protectively over it.
Jaeyun froze in horror. โNoonaโwait, are you crying? Did Iโ?โ
From across the library, Jungwonโs head snapped up, quill falling from his fingers. He was at your side in a heartbeat, eyes wide and worried.
โWhat happened?โ Jungwon asked, voice soft but urgent, his hand gently resting on the edge of your couch as he leaned over. โNoona, whatโs wrong?โ
You pointed at Heeseung again, face crumpling as the tears rolled down your cheeks. โHe forgot my pickles and sour cream,โ you sniffled. โI woke up and it wasnโt there and I waited and waited and I was starving and craving and he justโโ
โOh.โ Jungwon tried very, very hard not to laugh, biting the inside of his cheek as he nodded seriously. โPickles and sour cream. A fatal offense.โ
โI didnโt forget!โ Heeseung defended, walking closer, arms flailing slightly in helplessness. โI meanโI did, but not on purpose! I had to help Jungwon with theโโ
Jungwon lifted his hand, still grinning. โForgive my brother, noona,โ he said sweetly. โI think itโs partly my fault. I made him stay up last night helping me deal with someโฆ knight stuff.โ
You raised a brow, still crying, still very much hormonal. โWhat kind of knight stuff?โ
Jungwon cleared his throat. โUhm. A few of the southern patrol horses were unshod, and the stablemaster said the armory budget was overspent again. So we were fixing allocations andโโ
โOh, so horses are more important than your pregnant wife?โ you cut in, voice trembling as you narrowed your eyes at your husband.
Heeseung panicked. โNo! No, absolutely notโI would die for you. I would kill for you. I was going to go after breakfast andโโ
โYou said that yesterday!โ you cried, covering your face.
Jaeyun stood behind Jungwon now, whispering, โWe should probably leave before she gives birth out of spite.โ
โSmart,โ Jungwon whispered back.
Heeseung rushed to your side, dropping to his knees in front of you and placing both hands gently on your belly.
โMy love, please,โ he said, looking up at you with big, guilty eyes. โIโm sorry. Iโll get you all the pickles. All the sour cream. Iโll grow a pickle tree if I have to. Just please donโt cry, it breaks my heart.โ
You glared at him for one more moment before sighing, lower lip still wobbling. โYouโre lucky I love you.โ
Heeseung beamed. โThatโs a relief. Because I love you too. And you, little one,โ he said, pressing a kiss to your belly. โDonโt worry, father will bring home all your weird cravings.โ
You sniffed again, wiping your face as Heeseung pulled out a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed your cheeks gently.
โโฆYou want ice cream with chili flakes too?โ he asked cautiously.
โObviously,โ you muttered. โIโm not a monster.โ
Jungwon and Jaeyun had already vanished by then, likely off to send a servant to retrieve a very urgent royal order of pickles and sour cream.
You sniffled once more, dabbing your own cheek as you tapped your fingers insistently on Heeseungโs arm.
He blinked. โHuh?โ
You gave him a look.
โOh! Rightโright, sorry!โ he scrambled, immediately hopping to his feet in a heartbeat. One arm slipped behind your back, the other lacing through your fingers with practiced ease. โHere we goโone, twoโโ
You groaned as he gently helped you up from the cushioned couch, belly stretching against the fabric of your soft dress. โUgh. This is all your fault.โ
Heeseung winced. โYes, IโI know.โ
โI should have your cock chopped off for this, you littleโโ
โWhoaโ! Okay!โ Heeseung laughed nervously, heart thudding against his ribs as he tucked you closer to his side. โEasy now, love. You scare me sometimes.โ
You shot him a narrowed glare. โSometimes? You should live in fear.โ
โI do!โ he said immediately, guiding your steps slowly and carefully as you waddled your way toward the hallway. โEvery waking second, actually. Have I mentioned how stunning you look while plotting my demise?โ
You clicked your tongue, though your cheeks betrayed you with the faintest tinge of blush.
Pregnancy had turned you into an emotional tempest. One second, you were smiling sweetly and asking Heeseung if heโd sing to the babyโand the next, you were threatening bodily harm over poorly cut fruit or lukewarm tea.
He loved you more for it. Terrified? A little. But madly in love? Completely.
Heeseung tried not to laugh at the memory of last week, when one of your most beloved royal cooks almost got fired.
You had wobbled your way down to the kitchen, belly-first, eyes ablaze. He had just finished making your requested plate of crackersโand forgot the sour cream.
The way you gasped, horrified, clutching your chest like your world had ended.
โI waited all day for this,โ you whispered like a betrayed ghost. โAnd no sour cream? Off with your hat. Noโyour head!โ
The poor man stood there, blinking in shock as you fumed.
By the time Heeseung had rushed inโdragging Sunghoon behind him for backupโhe found you mid-sob and mid-threat, the cook still trying to apologize.
Sunghoon, eyes wide, bowed quickly to the cook. โWeโre so sorryโsheโs, uhโpregnant. Very pregnant.โ
The cook only chuckled, waving it off. โItโs alright, Your Highness. This happens all the time. Itโs quite normal, really.โ
โNormal?!โ Sunghoon whispered in horror as you let out a wail again.
Back in the present, Heeseung looked down at you now, walking slowly through the castle hallway, his hand cradling your back while you leaned your weight into him.
โYou okay?โ he asked softly.
You sighed. โNo. Iโm bloated, Iโm mad at you, my ankles feel like theyโre being crushed by divine punishment, and Iโm sweating in places no princess should sweat.โ
โโฆSo thatโs a yes?โ
You smacked his chest, and he only grinned, leaning down to kiss your temple again. โI love you, you know. Youโre terrifying. But Iโm obsessed with you.โ
โI know,โ you muttered, lips twitching upward despite yourself.
As you passed a stained-glass window, you paused and turned to face himโhand still on the curve of your belly.
โโฆYou really forgot the pickles?โ you asked again, narrowing your eyes.
Heeseungโs face went pale. โI swear to the gods, Iโll name our firstborn Sour Cream if thatโs what it takes to make it up to you.โ
You burst into laughter so hard you had to lean against him again.
The palace gardens were in full bloom.
You walked slowly beneath the soft morning sun, the wind warm and gentle as it kissed your face. Every step felt like a task and a half at nine months pregnant, your belly stretching the limits of your once-elegant maternity dress that now clung to you like it was begging for retirement.
Still, you needed the air.
The lilacs and lavenders had just been plantedโyour favorite colors. A gift from Heeseung after you spent an entire evening crying because you missed the way your childhood home used to smell.
โTheyโre blooming beautifully,โ you murmured as you waddled beside your mother and mother-in-law, who were deep in discussion about installing fountains near the kingdom gates.
โA marble structure, perhaps,โ your mother-in-law offered, gesturing with her fan. โSomething timeless, to match the new rose archway.โ
Your own mother nodded, her hand resting gently against your back. โAnd maybe benches shaded by wisteria vinesโgood for walks like these.โ
You smiled faintly, hands settled protectively over your belly. You felt huge. Round and sore and terribly emotional.
Lately, all you wanted was Heeseung. You missed his hands on your belly, his kisses at the corners of your mouth, the way heโd whisper โYouโre still the most beautiful woman in the worldโ every time you cried over not fitting into your royal robes anymore.
Poor Heeseung had endured months of emotional whiplashโyou throwing pillows at him one minute, begging for cuddles the nextโbut he never wavered. Always patient. Always soft.
You sighed. โThat man is too good for me.โ
A sharp pang shot through your lower abdomen.
Your hand shot down to your belly as your breath caught, and in the next heartbeatโwarm liquid trickled down your legs, soaking the hem of your dress and dripping onto the garden soil below.
Your eyes widened.
The queens turned to you instantly. โDarling?โ โWhat is it?!โ
โI thinkโฆ I think my water just broke,โ you whispered.
Panic, majestic and maternal, swept through both women. Your motherโs voice shot up first. โServants! Fetch the midwifeโnow!โ
โThe healer too!โ your mother-in-law added. โAnd blankets! Bring towels! Quickly!โ
You winced again, grabbing at your lower back as another cramp rocked through you. โI can walk! Iโm fineโjustโฆ need help.โ
โAbsolutely not,โ your mother huffed, hooking her arm under yours with impressive strength for someone in full court attire. โYouโre not walking anywhere without us.โ
The two queens flanked you like royal guards, one on each side, carefully helping you take slow, careful steps back toward the palace. You groaned at each movement, breath labored, hands trembling.
โWhere is Heeseung?โ you whined, voice wobbling.
โHeโs in council with the stewardsโsomeone will fetch him,โ your mother-in-law promised, rubbing soothing circles on your back. โDonโt you worry, darling. Heโll be with you before the next contraction hits.โ
โI swear if he misses thisโโ you hissed as another pain bloomed in your spine, โโIโll induce a second pregnancy just to make him suffer through the next one!โ
Both queens laughed despite themselves.
โYouโre doing wonderfully, sweetheart,โ your mother whispered, kissing your temple. โHeeseung will come running the second he hears. Just hold on a little longer.โ
โAnd scream at him when he does,โ your mother-in-law added with a mischievous grin. โItโs tradition.โ
You let out a strangled half-laugh, half-sob as your foot crossed the marble threshold of the castle.
โBring hot water!โ a maid cried out. โPrepare the birthing chamber!โ
Servants scrambled like a military drill as the two queens continued leading you toward the royal wing.
And as another wave of pain rolled through you, sharp and sudden, you gripped both womenโs hands tightly and mutteredโ
โโฆHeeseung is so dead.โ
The words had barely left your mouth when a young servant, barely older than a squire, nodded frantically at your mothersโs command.
He turned on his heel and sprinted down the castle corridors, nearly slipping on polished marble as he weaved past nobles and guards. His face was pale, his steps franticโbecause everyone in the kingdom knew that when it came to you, Prince Heeseung did not waste time.
Especially not today.
The council room sat in a gilded hallway of the eastern wing, its doors heavy with ornate gold carvings, muffling the sound of bored sighs and shuffling chairs from within.
Inside, the seven princes were scattered across the long oak table, listeningโsomewhat respectfullyโas an aging duke discussed property disputes near the northern border.
Heeseung sat at the center of the table, shoulders square, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His jaw tensed as he adjusted the fit of his vest, trying to mask just how miserable he looked.
Beside him, Jongseong leaned on an elbow, eyes half-lidded in sheer exhaustion. โIf he says the word acreage one more time, Iโm jumping out the window.โ
Sunoo, who had long given up on pretending to listen, was poking Jungwon with a quill, whispering, โBet you a week of your rations that hyung zones out and agrees to give the entire north to some greedy lord.โ
Jungwon rolled his eyes, muttering, โHe already did last month.โ
Across the table, Riki and Sunghoon were whispering animatedlyโprobably about girls or sword duels or which of them would win in a wrestling match if their lives depended on it.
Jaeyun had a book propped open on his lap, held just under the tableโs edge, completely absorbed and occasionally mouthing the words under his breath.
Heeseung cleared his throat, trying to gather enough composure to politely end the dukeโs hour-long monologue. โWeโll reconvene to reviewโโ
The council room doors flew open so hard they rattled on their hinges.
All seven princes shot up, hands instinctively flying to their sides as if expecting danger. The guards posted at the entrance had barely enough time to react before the young servant stumbled into the room, panting so hard it sounded like heโd just outrun a horse.
Heeseung was already halfway to standing, eyes sharp and alert. โSpeak.โ
The servant didnโt even bow. โT-The princess! Princess (Y/N)โsheโs gone into labor!โ
The words hit Heeseung like lightning.
Everything else vanished. The air, the weight of duty, the politics, the room itselfโit was all just static in the background.
โCouncil dismissed,โ Heeseung ordered, voice hard and final.
He didnโt wait for a single reply. He threw his glasses on the table with a clatter, not even bothering to place them gently, and shrugged off his coat as he made for the door. His vest was still half-buttoned, his cravat slightly askew, but he didnโt stop to fix any of it. He just ran.
โHyung!โ Jongseong called after him, but he was gone.
Sunoo blinked. โHe didnโt even breathe.โ
โWhy do I feel like weโre in labor too?โ Riki muttered, already on his feet.
โHeeseung-hyungโs going to faint before (Y/N) does,โ Sunghoon said, half amused and half terrified.
Back in the halls, Heeseungโs footsteps echoed like thunder. Servants scrambled out of the way, bowing quickly before darting aside. He passed the main stairs, two wings of the palace, and stormed through three doors before finally reaching the private chambers near your bedroomโwhere the royal birthing room had been prepared days in advance.
He saw the royal guards, saw the maids darting in and out with wet cloths and blankets.
And then he heard you.
A muffled cry of pain from within.
His heart nearly stopped.
Heeseung stood just outside the doors, hand on the carved gold handle, breaths ragged as he tried to steel himselfโbut just before he could push it open, a commanding voice echoed through the corridor.
โPrince Heeseung, you cannot go in.โ
He turned, startled, eyes narrowing as he was met by the flowing robes of the Archbishop of Decelis, flanked by a few elder members of the High Councilโthose who hadnโt been in attendance during the earlier meeting. Their expressions were grave, respectful, but firm.
โWhat?โ Heeseung snapped, his tone already laced with disbelief. โWhy not?โ
One of the older men stepped forward, hands folded neatly in front of him. โMy prince, it is tradition. Men are not permitted inside the royal birthing chambers. It is an honored law of the land.โ
Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated and on the verge of unraveling. โTradition?โ he echoed, almost laughing bitterly.
โThatโs my wife in there. My child. And youโre telling me I canโt be with them because of some old, dusty decree written before any of you were even born?โ
The Archbishop stood firm. โIt is to maintain the sanctity and protection of both mother and child. We must follow protocol.โ
Heeseung clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring, his heart screaming inside his chest. Behind him, hurried footsteps approachedโthe rest of his brothers flooding into the corridor one by one, panting and wide-eyed.
โHyung, we came as fast asโโ Jungwon began before seeing the situation unfold.
But Heeseung didnโt turn to them.
Because just then, through the thick double doors, he heard you scream again.
His spine straightened. His vision tunneled.
A young maid appeared from the side chamber, looking breathless and flushed. โPrince Heeseung!โ she called, bowing quickly. โHer Highness is calling for you. She keeps askingโsheโs crying, asking where you are.โ
Heeseung moved for the doors again, only for the Archbishop to raise a hand, stepping into his path once more.
โYour Highness, pleaseโโ
โDo you like being the Archbishop of Decelis?โ Heeseung asked sharply, voice low and dangerous.
The man froze.
The council members stiffened.
โDo you?โ Heeseung repeated, eyes like wildfire.
โโฆYes, my prince.โ
โAnd you all,โ Heeseung turned to the councilmen. โDo you like your titles? Your seats? Your influence?โ
No one answered.
He took a slow, threatening step forward, each word like a blade. โWould you like to remain the Archbishop of Decelis? And remain members of this council?โ
The hallway went deadly silent. Even the guards didnโt breathe.
Because Heeseung had never raised his voice. Never threatened anyone. Never looked like this before. But nowโhe was livid. A man unhinged by love, fear, and a cry from someone he couldnโt bear to be separated from.
โYou forget your place,โ he growled. โThatโs my wife. Thatโs my child. And I swore before gods and men to protect her, cherish her, be by her side in every joy and every pain. And if any of you think for a second that Iโll let her scream for me alone while you stand here quoting traditionsโโ
His voice cracked at the edge.
โThen youโre not just wrong. Youโre finished.โ
The Archbishop opened his mouthโthen closed it again.
โI said move.โ
The men parted.
Heeseung didnโt waste another secondโhe slammed the doors open and marched in, not as a prince, not as a future king, but as your husband.
As a man about to become a father. As someone so in love with you that the thought of you suffering made him feel physically ill.
You were there, on the padded birthing bed, your back supported by pillows, your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles were white.
Your mother and mother-in-law were at your side. The midwifeโan older woman with gentle hands and sharp instructionsโwas calmly checking your status.
You looked up, eyes glassy and tired, andโ
โHeeseung,โ you whimpered.
He rushed to you without a word, dropping to his knees beside the bed and grabbing your hand. His fingers trembled as they laced through yours. โIโm here. Iโm here, love, Iโm right here.โ
โI told you you were dead,โ you gasped between contractions, squeezing his hand hard enough to crush bone.
Heeseung winced. โIf I survive this, Iโm building you another garden. Bigger. Full of lilacs. And pickles. And sour cream. Justโkeep breathing, okay?โ
You cried. โThis is your fault!โ
โYes, it is,โ he agreed, kissing your hand desperately, forehead resting against your arm. โIโm a terrible husband. Iโll never touch you againโIโll sleep in the stables if I have to.โ
โYouโre damn right you will,โ you hissed, then screamed through the next wave of pain.
Heeseung paled, but kissed your temple anyway. โYouโre doing amazing, my love. Youโre almost there.โ
Behind him, one of the queens whispered, โHeโs more scared than she is.โ
And he was.
Because heโd faced sword fights, battles, political scandals, and enemy threats. But nothing terrified him more than the idea of you in pain.
The midwife barely glanced at him, too focused on the task. She peeked between your parted legs and gave a tight, pleased smile. โSheโs fully dilated. Weโre ready.โ Then she dropped onto the birthing stool at the end of the bed and called over her shoulder, โYou, get the clean towels. And the water, now.โ
โYes, madam!โ a maid stammered as they scurried to follow.
โAlright, Your Highness,โ the midwife addressed you gently now, her voice calm but firm. โWhen I say push, I need you to push hard, understand?โ
You nodded, breath hitching. โIt hurtsโgods, it hurts so muchโโ
Heeseung was already at your side, kneeling beside you despite the thick gold embroidery of his royal vest crumpling beneath him. He took your trembling hand and pressed it to his lips, his forehead leaning against yours.
โYou can do this, love,โ he murmured, voice cracking. โIโm here. Iโve got you.โ
You sobbed softly, body trembling. โIโm scaredโฆโ
โI know,โ he said. โBut youโre strong. So strong. Youโre everything. And our babyโour little prince or princessโtheyโre so close. Just a little more, okay?โ
Another contraction hit and the midwife barked, โPush!โ
You cried out, gripping Heeseungโs hand so tightly it felt like you might break it, and he welcomed every second of itโbecause if he could take your pain for you, he would a thousand times over.
โThatโs it!โ the midwife encouraged. โGood girl, Your Highness, again!โ
Heeseung wiped the tears streaking down your cheeks with his other hand, pushing the damp strands of hair off your sticky forehead, his lips kissing every inch he could reach.
โI love you,โ he whispered. โYouโre doing so well, Iโm so proud of you.โ
But after another few rounds, you fell back against the pillows, exhausted. โI canโtโฆ I canโt anymore, Heeโฆโ
โYes, you can,โ he whispered, desperate now, tears pricking his eyes. โYouโve made it this far, you can. Just one more, darling. Please. Our babyโs waiting for you.โ
You whimpered, chest rising and falling fast, but his hand didnโt leave yours, and his wordsโwarm and tremblingโwrapped around you like armor.
โOne more push!โ the midwife called again. โI see the head! One big push, my lady!โ
You screamed as you gave everything, every last ounce of strength in your bodyโand thenโ
A sharp, high-pitched cry cut through the air.
The room stilled.
Heeseung gasped, tears immediately spilling down his cheeks as the sound hit him like an arrow through the heart.
โSheโs here,โ the midwife breathed with a smile. โA healthy baby girl!โ
The moment your daughter was wrapped in warm linens and placed against your chest, your body quaked with sobsโrelief, exhaustion, love, everything. She was tiny, pink, and perfect, crying softly as her fists curled against your skin.
โOh, gods,โ you wept, arms trembling as you cradled her. โSheโs soโฆ sheโs so littleโฆโ
Heeseung was crying openly now, brushing soft, trembling kisses over your cheeks, your temple, your lipsโeverywhere.
โYou did it,โ he breathed, voice shaking as he stared at you like you hung the stars. โYou did so good, love. Sheโs perfect. Youโre both perfect.โ
He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand gently stroking your daughterโs soft downy head. Her cries softened, soothed by your warmth, and when her tiny hand flailed, Heeseung instinctively wrapped his finger around hers.
โSheโs got your nose,โ he whispered with a teary laugh.
โAnd your eyes,โ you whispered back, voice breaking as more tears fell.
He kissed you again, lingering and reverent.
โMy queen,โ he murmured, voice soaked in awe, โmy love, the mother of my childโฆโ
And for the first time in forever, the kingdom outside went quietโbecause in that room, on that bed, with your daughter in your arms and your husband holding you like you were made of gold.
You stood in the quiet, polished halls of the royal wing of the museum, the scent of aged books and lavender floor polish lingering in the air.
Jungwon and Sunoo had excused themselves a few minutes ago, excited to take pictures by the towering marble fountain near the entrance, leaving you to explore at your own pace, sipping on the lilac tea you bought from the museum cafรฉ.
Your footsteps slowed to a stop when you turned the corner and came face to face with it.
A massive oil painting, stretching from the polished floor almost to the vaulted ceiling. Encased in a golden frame, dusted only at the corners with time. And in it, frozen in hues of soft ivory and golden lightโ
โPrince Lee Heeseung and Princess (L/N) (Y/N), in a timeless embrace beneath a canopy of lilacs and lavenders.โ
Your breath caught in your throat.
The artist had captured something so impossibly intimate it made your chest ache. Heeseung stood tall, dressed in a white military-style coat, adorned with golden embroidery that shimmered even under the museumโs soft lights. His hand gently cupped the princessโs cheek, gaze tender and unguarded, as if the entire kingdom didnโt exist when she was near.
The princess wore a flowing white gown with a lilac sash, long sleeves embroidered with delicate gold threads, mimicking vines curling around her arms. She looked up at him, her eyes almost tearful with love, one gloved hand clutching the edge of his coat as though anchoring herself to him.
But it wasnโt just the beauty of the painting that left you frozen.
It was her face.
Her faceโyour face.
Same eyes. Same smile. Same shape of the nose and curve of the chin. Even the way she tilted her head slightly, like she was listening to something only he could whisper.
You took a shaky breath and stepped closer, glancing at the golden standee resting just beside the red velvet rope:
โPrince Lee Heeseung and Princess (L/N) (Y/N). Captured in the royal gardens during the Spring Festival of 1782.
This portrait is one of the most beloved in the royal collection, known not just for its artistic mastery, but for the love story it represents. Theirs was not a marriage of convenience or political allianceโbut one of deep, enduring love.
They were said to have loved each other until their very last breath.โ
You blinked at the plaque, rereading your name etched in gold again and again, as if the letters might rearrange themselves into something more logical.
โโฆThatโs not funny,โ you whispered, barely audible.
A slow chill crawled up your spine as you looked back at the painting.
What were the odds? Your name. Your face. The same features captured in oil centuries ago. Was the tea messing with you? Were you sleep-deprived?
You turned to glance behind you, half-expecting Jungwon and Sunoo to be playing some elaborate prank, but the corridor was empty.
You let out a small exhale and turned back to the painting.
But you werenโt alone anymore.
There was someone standing beside you.
A tall figure, dressed in a sleek black blazer and slacks, his silhouette sharp against the soft golden lighting of the gallery. His hands were tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed, but his gazeโฆ his gaze was fixed right where yours had been moments beforeโon the painting. Unmoving. Focused. Like it meant something.
Your eyes flicked down to the silver pin on the left lapel of his blazer: the Decelis University insignia. A student, then.
You shrugged to yourself, figuring he was probably here on the same field trip. You took another sip of your lilac tea, the floral taste now bittersweet on your tongue as your heart settled in your chest again.
โItโs uncanny,โ he murmured beside you.
You blinked and tilted your head slightly. โAre you talking to me?โ
His lips curved, not quite into a full smileโbut into something quieter, gentler. And his voiceโGod, his voice was warm. Deep, but velvety.
โMaybe,โ he said. โI donโt really see anyone else here besides you.โ
You let out a soft laugh, caught off guard. โWow. Is that your line, or do you just flirt in front of 18th-century paintings?โ
โOnly with people who look like theyโve just seen a ghost,โ he teased.
You turned to him, finally taking in his features properly. And your breath caught in your throat.
His hair was dyed a soft lilacโthe exact same shade as the flowers in the painting. It caught the sunlight pouring in from the museumโs high glass windows, casting a faint halo around his head. But it wasnโt just the hair. It was the eyes. The way he looked at youโnot like a strangerโbut like someone remembering.
โWhat did you mean by uncanny?โ you asked softly, your grip tightening around your tea cup.
He glanced at the painting again, then back at you.
โWell,โ he began, โfor startersโฆ she looks exactly like you.โ
You swallowed. โYeah,โ you said, voice smaller than you meant. โI noticed that.โ
The stranger beside you let out a soft laughโnot the polite kind, but the real one. Full-bodied and warm, the kind that came from the chest, from somewhere deeper. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, something boyish blooming across his face as he fully turned to face you now.
He was breathtaking up close.
Lilac hair tousled like the wind had played with it on the walk here, his blazer crisp and worn with ease, like he wasnโt trying to impress anyoneโbut still somehow did.
There was something timeless about him. Like his face didnโt belong to any specific era. Like it had been painted in oil and carved into memory long before today.
He glanced back at the painting again and tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing at his lips.
โWell,โ he teased, โthe real one looks way better.โ
Your breath hitched.
Heat rushed to your cheeks before you could stop it. โOh my gods,โ you muttered under your breath, fighting a smile as you stared at the floor, willing it to open and swallow you whole.
He chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction.
You sighed, defeated, and risked another look at him.
The way he stood there, relaxed but attentive. The way he smiled like he already knew youโlike he was waiting for you to remember too. The way his eyes searched yours with a kind of gentleness, like he didnโt want to scare you off, but couldnโt help getting drawn in.
You finally found your voice again, soft but steady.
โWell,โ you said, looking right at him this time, โyou look exactly like him, soโฆโ
Your hand lifted slightly, finger pointing toward the prince in the painting, but he didnโt follow it. His eyes were on you. Only you.
He took a step closer.
Not too muchโbut just enough that you could smell his cologne, something clean and woodsy, like cedar trees after the rain.
โYou think so?โ he asked, voice quiet, as if the question itself held centuries of weight.
You nodded.
And you gave him the smallest smile. The kind of smile you only give someone you feel like youโve known your whole lifeโsomeone youโve missed before you even met.
His eyes softened.
And then he looked up at the painting once more, but not for long. โThey say those two married for love, not for politics,โ he murmured. โThat they stayed together until their last breath.โ
You blinked. โYou know the story?โ
โBits and pieces,โ he said. โMy professorโs a nerd about royal bloodlines. Said they were the last real fairytale before the world becameโฆ complicated.โ
โโฆThatโs kind of beautiful,โ you said quietly.
โYeah,โ he replied, looking back at you. โIt is.โ
You stared at each other for a moment too long.
And in that silenceโfilled only by distant footsteps and the soft hum of the museumโyou felt it.
That pull in your chest.
Like gravityโbut gentler. Like youโd been waiting your whole life to stand in this exact spot, with this exact person, under the eyes of your past selves immortalized in paint and gold leaf.
You swallowed down the weight in your chest and cleared your throat, unsure how to ask the question on your tongue without sounding absolutely unhinged. But the curiosity burned hotter than your nerves.
So you looked up at him, voice hesitant but steady.
โโฆWhatโs your name?โ
He turned to you, that boyish grin softening into something quieterโshyer, even. He chuckled under his breath and reached a hand toward you, the sunlight from the glass ceiling catching on the silver ring he wore.
โLee Heeseung,โ he said.
You stared.
You had to blink once, twice, to make sure you heard him right.
The same name etched into the gold plate by the painting.
The same name whispered by fate across brushstrokes and centuries.
The same name that made something in your bones stir like they remembered.
Was the universe playing a joke? A test? A cosmic prank?
Or had it been quietly arranging this moment since the day you were born?
You were certain if someone snapped a photo of this second, the stars would burn a little brighter behind the frame.
You reached for his outstretched hand, your fingers brushing against his palm. The moment your skin touched his, a jolt shot up your armโnot painful, not harsh. Justโฆ warm. Familiar. Like home.
He didnโt let go.
And honestly? You didnโt want him to.
His fingers wrapped around yours just right, firm but careful, like he already knew you needed both comfort and gentleness.
โAnd you?โ he asked, voice softer now. Like he was scared to breathe too hard and shatter something delicate.
You swallowed, heart loud in your ears.
โ(L/N) (Y/N),โ you said, breathless.
Something shifted in his eyes.
Like a sunrise cracked through storm clouds.
Heeseung smiledโslowly, knowingly. โNice to meet you, Princess,โ he murmured, still not letting go.
Your breath hitched.
The nickname shouldnโt have meant anything coming from a stranger. But from himโit felt like the world had finally remembered a story it forgot to finish.
In that fleeting space between his smile and your breathless heartbeat, you realized something:
Maybe some loves werenโt just meant to last lifetimes.
Maybe some loves were lifetimes.
Maybe you and himโLee Heeseung, the stranger who felt like a memoryโhad been chasing each other through history, always finding, always losing, always waiting.
And as the sunlight spilled through the stained glass, casting lilac and gold across your skin, you smiled.
Because somehow, in a crowded museum filled with relics of the pastโyou had found your future.
ยฉ 2025 liuhsngย โย reblogs areย highlyย appreciated and please donโt hesitate to request some ficsย hereย if you want me to write anything !
๐๐๐ ๐๐... ๐๐๐ ๐? ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ก๐
prรณlogo you were raised behind bulletproof glasss, luxury and polished speeches that got you bored every single time. The daughter of the Presidentโthe nation's sweetheart. Always elegant, charitable, untouched by scandal. A clear symbol of peace in a city rotting from the inside out. But the most wanted man alive that watched you through the tv doesn't buy the act.
elenco joker!heeseung and daughter's president fem!reader
gรฉnero smut with plot
antes de leer since it's something new I'm trying, the normal kinks I write will get heavier as I implemented: the use of knife play, heavy choking, exhibitionism, heavy humiliation, blood play. If you don't like this type of story, then calmly leave as you wait for other stories in my page
# palabras +800 (est. +10k)
Your head was starting to hurt; flashbulbs exploded in rhythmic bursts, as if they wanted to drown the room in white.
You stood at the podium with your smile rehearsed, shoulders straight and perfectly neat hair, giving the press and your father exactly what they came for after his speech.
"As always," you start off, "I'm so glad that my father is deeply compromised with this beautiful country as well as the overwhelming support of the citizens. Our mission remains the sameโto restore peace, safety, and hope to those countries. Because we deserve it."
The room clapped, and you did a small bow, your eyes flicking over the sea of suits and cameras as you tried not to linger. You delivered answers to foreign policy, crime spikes, and rumored threats the government was trying to exterminate.
"Miss, if I may?" Your voice turned slightly toward the man standing near the front row. You recognized him as Park Jongseong, from Belift News.
"Yes, Mister Park?"
"Any comment on the Joker's latest stunt? Twenty officers are dead in District 7, and he left a noteโaddressed to you."
The air shifted, the room hushed, and whispers started to get obvious as they waited for an answer.
Nonetheless, your soft smile didn't drop. "The man you're referring to is a domestic terrorist, not a celebrity. My family and this administration refuse to dignify his theatrics with personal attention."
"So you're saying it wasn't meant for you?"
Then it was the fucking bait.
You could feel yourself getting warmer, fingers curled slightly around the edges of the podium. Your jaw tightenedโbarely showing any emotion. You let out a small chuckle.
"I'm saying that lunatics crave attention. And this clown in particular doesn't deserve mine." Your response earned several murmurs from the roomโsome approval, some unease. Your gaze travelled across the room, and that's when you saw him.
It was a second, maybe even less, to the man at the far back slouched in a dark coat. No press badge hanging around his neck or a notepad and pen in his hands. He was simply smiling, right at you.
You held your poise, gave the usual thank-you, and stepped down from the podium. But even as your security ushered you away, even as the applause resumed and the questions dissolved behind you, your mind buzzed.
By the time you made it down the long hall with the tapping noise of your shiny clean heels as background noise, your nerves were like a roller coaster. You entered your dressing room and shut the door behind you, dead silence as you rested your body against the door, shutting your eyes.
"You got shook."
Your heart dropped at the voice of Heeseung; he stepped out from the shadows, twirling a small knife between his fingers like it weighed nothing. His smile was as practiced as yours, no soul in it.
"Just once," he said, gaze raking down your body, "but I saw it."
A genuine smile left your lips as you walked to him; you pressed your body against his, arms draping around his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Baby!" you whispered. Heeseung raised a brow, that eerie grin still carved into his face. "Are you playing nice now, sweetheart?"
"I've missed you." His hand found your waist, casual with the slightest touch of tenderness.
"You just told a room full of reporters I was nothing."
The knife in his hand went behind you, dipping lower, tracing the curve of your spine through your tailored blouse, not a single cut in it, although he wanted to do it. You knew it.
Your lips brushed his jaw. "Didn't say I didn't think about you, Daddy." After you said that, his lips took dominance over yours. Rough and needy, as if he didn't fuck the life out of you a couple hours before.
"You know I hate lies, sweetheart."
His words were murmured into your mouth as his tongue swept past your lips like he owned the air you breathed. You gasped into the kiss but didnโt pull away.
You never did. Not from him.
Not when his fingers clutched at your hips like his life depended on it. Not when that damn knife was still ghosting over your spine to remind you that he could cut if he wanted. That he might, if you said the wrong thing.
โThat wasnโt a lie,โ you whispered against his lips. โJust politics.โ
He laughedโa sharp and quiet one. โYou think I care about politics? You think I give a single fuck what you say behind a podium when I can still taste your cunt on my tongue from this morning?โ
You let out a moan when a smack landed on your clothed pussy, hating that he could hear it. Hated that it gave him satisfaction.
Because it did. His grin widened.
โThought so.โ He shoved you against the vanity table, and it rattled under the impact. Somewhere, a compact case hit the floor and cracked open.
You didn't care, putting more focus on how your nails sank into his back and the way his hands shoved your skirt up with no regard for modesty.
You moaned for a monster, letting yourself be ruined... again.
โโโ TY CONCEPT PHOTOS FOR THIS! had to cut the teaser up a little bc it was getting LONG long, but I'M actually really excited for this one, hope you all bounce up for this one tho
๐ด TAGLIST (OPEN): @hoonprksung @ziiao @rikimuraaaa @enhxlvr @sunghoonsrealwife @deobitifull
Youโre broke, exhausted, and desperate enough to take a cleaning job no one else will touch. The client lives alone in a silent penthouse, hidden from the world by rumor and choice. You werenโt supposed to know his nameโjust clean and leave. But when your journal goes missing and comes back with his handwriting in the margins, everything changes.
โข minors do not interact
โข pairing: schizophrenic concert pianist!heeseung x afab reader
โข wc: 28k
โข content tags: angst, hurt/comfort, mental health themes, depictions of schizophrenia, poverty, class disparity, emotional repression, slow burn, journal entries, forbidden closeness, soft smut, loneliness, poetic prose, mentions of blood, trauma, caretaker dynamics, emotionally intense, non-idol au, heeseung x reader, reader-insert.
WARNINGS: mental illness (schizophrenia), mentions of blood, emotional breakdowns, poverty, food insecurity, toxic living environment, isolation, possible dissociation, references to past trauma, depersonalization, implied neglect, emotionally heavy content, not a fluff centric story. okay maybe thereโs a little fluff.
โข a/n: this was meant to be a 15k word fic (donโt ask me what happened) i would still die for recluse heeseung.
โข nsfw tags under the cut
SMUT, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, bloodplay implications, sex during dissociation, power imbalance, emotional dependency, mental illness (schizophrenia), mentions of self-harm, trauma, possessive behavior, emotionally intense dynamic, obsession themes. (lmk if i missed any) not proofread!
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
You're running. Again. The strap of your tote bag digs into your shoulder as your shoes slap the sidewalk, water splashing up your ankles with each desperate step. Rain mist clings to your skin like sweatโexcept sweat would be warm. This is just cold and inconvenient. Your Literature lecture ran ten minutes over because, of course, your professor finally decided to acknowledge your existence the one time you needed to leave early. He asked for your thoughts on postmodern fragmentation in the age of digital alienation while you sat there wondering if postmodern fragmentation was what your GPA would look like this semester.
By the time you made it outside, the bus was already pulling up. You waved frantically, almost twisting your ankle as you darted across the crosswalkโnearly colliding with a cyclist. He swerved. You screamed. He cursed. It was poetic, in a tragicomedy kind of way. Now, you're clinging to the pole in the bus's center aisle, damp hair clinging to your cheeks as it rocks around corners, your phone buzzing with the timeโ12:46 PM.
Mrs. Do expects you at 12:30. Sharp, always sharp but today you're going to disappoint her, again and it makes you nervous cause this isn't your first fuck up. Getting off at the bus stop in Mrs. Do's neighborhood is like stepping into another world. Wide sidewalks, trimmed hedges. Every driveway is the kind of polished grey stone that seems to repel dirt on principle. The kind of neighborhood that smells like generational wealth and imported jasmine diffusers.
The sky's already sour when you round the corner onto the cobblestone lane. Gray and sullen, like it knows something you don't. Your thighs ache from sprinting across campus, your spine's slick with sweat under your too-thin hoodie, and your fingers are still raw from gripping the metal pole on the bus. You hadn't even realized how tightly you were holding onโlike the bus was the only thing standing between you and collapse. You're fifteen minutes late, sixteen, actually.
The house looms before you like a museum exhibitโgrand, sterile, and quiet enough to make you feel like you've already done something wrong just by being there. All tall glass windows and trimmed hedges, with a front door so glossy you can see your own desperation reflected in it. You ring the bell, sucking in a breath and she opens it almost immediately. Mrs. Do doesn't need to speak to make her opinion known. Her eyes flick down your frameโhoodie, faded jeans, dirt-smudged sneakersโand her mouth flattens like she's biting back something acidic. Her nose twitches once.
"You're late."
"I'm so sorry," you say, voice thin. "My class ran over and I missed my bus, andโ" She rolls her eyes, cutting you off, "You people always have an excuse".ย You people. "I've already called your manager," she says coolly, stepping back just enough to make room for your shame to enter. "This is unacceptable. I hired help, not excuses."
Help. You step inside anyway because she hasn't technically slammed the door in your face yet. The floor gleams beneath your feet and you're careful not to drip on the marble. "I can still clean," you try, gripping the handle of your tote tighter. "IโI'll stay longer if you need. PโPlease don't fire me." She turns slowly, folding her arms like she's posing for a luxury handbag ad. "You'll leave," she says. "And next time, be honest with yourself about what you're capable of."
That's it. No raised voice, no chance to plead. Just ice in human form and the creak of the front door swinging back open like a guillotine. You stand there a second too longโlong enough for it to become patheticโthen you turn and walk back out with your head down and your heart thudding where your confidence used to be. It starts to drizzle as soon as you step off her perfect property. Of course it does.You jog down to the bus stop at the end of the street, ignoring the way your socks squelch in your shoes. Your bag knocks awkwardly against your side. You still have half a bottle of disinfectant in there, you could drink it and cleanse the humiliation right out of your system.
The bus pulls up late. You board with the same dread you imagine people feel before surgeryโknowing it's necessary, knowing it's going to hurt. Inside, it's packed. You stand, gripping the pole, body swaying with every uneven turn. The lights flicker overhead. A kid is screaming two seats over. A man is coughing into his hand and not covering his mouth. You catch your reflection in the windowโwet hair clinging to your cheeks, eyes dull, lips chapped from chewing them in nervous spirals. This is your life, this bus ride, this moment, is unfortunately your life. The route winds through the city, away from the clean sidewalks and polished gates, deeper into the cracked edges of town where the concrete is more gum than stone and the streetlights work in pairsโif at all. You get off at the corner near the faded liquor store, shoulders hunched under the growing weight of your day.
Your apartment building is a boxy, red-brick rectangle with iron balconies rusting at the corners. The woman who lives two floors up is yelling at her boyfriend again. You can hear every word, you wonder why they're still together seeing as they're fighting every other day. You climb the stairs slowly, dragging your legs like anchors. The third floor always smells like someone burned toast and sprayed perfume to hide it. Your door sticks and it takes three tries to get it open. The TV is already blaring, some british reality dating show, laughter, the pop of a beer can. Minjae is sprawled across the couch, shirtless, remote in one hand and a bowl in the other.
Your bowl. "Yo," he greets, mouth full. "You look like death."
"Thanks." You kick off your shoes and look around in the apartment that's in pure chaosโshoes everywhere, makeup on the kitchen counter, someone's bra dangling from the dining chair. Probably Jiyoon's. The dishes in the sink are starting grow by numbers. She appears in the hallway, barefoot and probably wine-drunk, wearing one of her boyfriend's shirts.
"Hey," she slurs. "How was the bitch?" You stare at her. "I got fired." "Again?" she groans, flopping dramatically onto the peeling loveseat. "Ugh. I told you to lie and say your grandma died. It works every time." You don't respond, heading to the kitchen to open the fridge, the light flickers when you open it. There's nothing inside except a carton of milk that expired last week and someone's half-eaten burger. You close it and lean against the counter, pressing your forehead to the cabinet above.
This can't be your life. This can't keep being your life.
Your socks are still wet when you drag yourself down the narrow hall toward the shared bathroom. You don't even bother turning on the light at firstโjust reach blindly into the shower caddy for your body wash, hoping a hot rinse will wash off the day, or at least the last of Mrs. Do's perfume that still clings to your sleeves like a curse. Your hand closes around the bottle.
Empty.
You blink, now flipping on the harsh fluorescent light. The bottle is sitting thereโyour expensive one, the only thing you splurged on in months, lavender and eucalyptus, bought during a panic attack at the drugstore like a promise to yourself that things would get better but now it's squeezed dry. You stand there, frozen. Cold water dripping off your hood. Your knuckles whitening around the neck of the bottle. "Jiyoon!" your voice cracks down the hallway like a whip.
A pause. "What?" she calls back, annoyed, like you're interrupting something importantโlike Love Island. You storm back into the living room, brandishing the empty bottle like evidence at a trial. Minjae doesn't even glance up from the couch, he's playing something on his phone now, earbuds in, cereal bowl at his feet.ย Your fucking bowl.
"Tell me this wasn't him." Jiyoon sits up, scowling at your tone. "What are you talking about?" "This." You shake the bottle. "My body wash. The one you 'borrowed' last week. It's gone. Empty. And I know you don't like the smellโso unless I'm hallucinating, your leech of a boyfriend used the last of it."
She rolls her eyes. "Jesus, it's not that deep. It's body wash." "No, it's my body wash. The only nice thing I own. And he used it, again, after eating the rest of my leftovers and leaving dirty socks in the sink and never ever paying rent!"
Minjae finally glances up, one earbud still in. "Damn. You need a Xanax or something?"
Your mouth goes dry.
Jiyoon frowns. "Okay, first of all, don't talk to her like thatโ"
"No, don't defend me now," you cut in, voice shaking. "You let him live here for free. You make excuses for him while I scrape together every last cent to keep a roof over our heads. I workย twoย jobs, Jiyoon. I eat scraps. I got fired today and came home in the rain to thisโand now I can't even take a damn shower without discovering he's drained the last thing I own that smells like something other than despair."
She shifts, uncomfortable. "You could've said something nicer."
"And you could've picked someone who showers in his own place instead of mine!"
Silence.
You don't cry and you won't. Not in front of him. Not even here. You don't wait for an apology that'll never come. You retreat to your room, slam the door, and lock it behind youโnot because you're afraid, but because you're done.
You strip off your hoodie, throw it in the corner, and climb into bed fully damp and exhausted. The blanket clings to your legs. You curl around your pillow and let the tension tremble out of your fingertips like static electricity.
You curl up in bed fully clothed, hoodie damp and clinging to your skin, fingers still aching from scrubbing tile three days ago. The blanket smells faintly like bleach. Jiyoon is laughing in the next room, voice high and bright and grating. You close your eyes.
*โข*โข*
You wake up to the clink of glassware and Minjae's laugh from the kitchen, that smug, high-pitched snort that always sets your teeth on edge. There's no time to be angryโnot this morning. You're already late. Again.
You roll out of bed and throw on the first vaguely clean outfit you can find, dragging a brush through your tangled hair and pinning it up like your life depends on it. Your backpack's already half-packed from the night before. You stuff in your worn-out copy of Beloved, a dog-eared notebook filled with scribbles and half-finished poems, and race out the door without breakfast.
It's colder today. The kind of cold that bites under your clothes and leaves your fingers raw. You catch the bus by sheer miracleโsprinting half a block and nearly losing a shoe in the processโand squeeze into the back seat between a teenage couple whispering too loud and a man who keeps humming to himself.
You reach campus with two minutes to spare. The lecture hall smells like chalk dust and old books. It's one of your favorite smells in the world. You slide into the third row, clutching your notebook to your chest, and feel a quiet sort of calm settle over you. This is your safe place. Literature. Language. Storytelling.
The professor enters with her usual elegance, a tall woman with soft curls and a warm smile that doesn't waver even when her students barely look up. She doesn't need to raise her voice to command the room. She carries presence the way some people carry perfumeโeffortlessly.
"Today," she begins, "we talk about longing." You feel your chest tighten in the most bittersweet way.
She reads a passage aloudโsomething from a contemporary poet you love but couldn't afford to buy the full collection ofโand for a while, you forget the bruising ache in your back from yesterday, or the hollowness in your stomach. You forget Minjae. You forget Mrs. Do.
After class, you linger longer than usual, pretending to organize your papers while most students file out. Professor Cha doesn't seem surprised when you approach her desk.
"I loved what you read today," you say, voice still soft from reverence. "The way it ached."
Her eyes sparkle behind her glasses. "That's a good word. A poem should ache. And yours always do."
You blink. "You read my last submission?"
"I did." She smiles, more maternal than academic now. "You write like you've lived ten lives. There's heartbreak in your syntax, but also something... resilient. It's beautiful. Raw."
The compliment hits deeper than she probably intends. You swallow. "Thank you. I... needed to hear that."
She tilts her head. "You've looked tired lately."
"I got fired," you confess, voice breaking a little at the edges. "From one of my jobs." She doesn't blink or pity you, she nods instead. "Then the world made space for something better. Keep showing up. Your stories matter even if no one pays you for them yet."
It's not much but it's enough to lift your spine straighter as you thank her and walk out the door.
The sunshine doesn't feel quite so cold.
You're halfway down the campus stairs, still thinking about her words, when your phone rings. A number you don't recognize, but one you know instinctively not to ignore.
You answer.
"About damn time," a gravelly voice snaps through the line. "Did you turn off your phone all day or do you just enjoy making my blood pressure spike?"
You wince. "Sorry, Cee. I was in classโ"
"I don't care if you were in confession with the Pope," he growls. "You missed your shift yesterday and you got us fired from the Do account." You open your mouth to explain, but he keeps going.
"Lucky for you," he says, as if the words are knives between his teeth, "no one else wants this new job and I'm too tired to argue. Penthouse gig. Rich recluse. We charge double, client pays in advance, and no one wants to take it because apparently the guy's a freak."
You frown. "A freak?"
"Unstable. Hermit. Been on the news, but who the hell keeps track? Listen, I don't care if he's a lizard in a human suitโhe's paying. You're taking it."
Your throat dries.
"How many days?"
"Three a week. Big place. Clean what you can, don't snoop. I'll send the address. Be early." and then, just before he hangs up, his tone softensโbarely. "Don't mess this up, kid. You need it."
You really, really do.
You stare at the phone screen even after the call ends, the manager's words still ringing in your ears.ย Freak. Hermit. Don't mess this up.
The ache in your calves from walking half a mile after the bus dropped you off doesn't compare to the slow sinking in your stomach as you lift your head to take in the building before you.
It's not just bigโit's obscene. The kind of place you'd see in a glossy magazine left behind in a waiting room. Black glass, white stone, gold accents on the automatic double doors. No peeling paint, no squeaky hinges, no smell of cheap weed in the lobby. You shift your backpack higher on your shoulder and wipe your palms on your pants, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you look.
The doorman gives you a glance that says you're not the usual type, but he opens the door for you anyway. Inside, the lobby is quiet. Too quiet. Your footsteps echo on the marble like you're trespassing.
You check the note your manager texted again: Penthouse, 45th floor. Don't use the front elevator. Service lift in the back.
Figures.
You find the service lift through a hallway no guest would ever wander downโa dimly lit corridor that smells faintly of lemon polish and secrecy. The kind of place you get swallowed in. You step inside the narrow elevator, the floor humming under your boots.
The doors slide shut with a groan. You breathe out. The kind of breath that's supposed to steady you but doesn't.
Your phone buzzes again just before the elevator doors open.
Cee: Don't fuck this up. Get there exactly at 10, leave exactly at 4. Even if you finish early, you stay. No exceptions. And whatever you do, NEVER go upstairs. He has rules. Don't test them.
You stare at the screen.
What kind of house has an upstairs in a penthouse?ย you think, and the second the thought passes, the elevator dings.
The doors creak open onto a hallway draped in shadow. No welcome mat, no noise or signs of life. Just a wide, heavy door that looks more like it belongs on a bank vault than a home.
You step out.
Your boots sound stupidly loud on the marble tile, and you hesitate before raising your hand to knock. But there's no need. The moment your knuckles reach the wood, the door clicks open on its own.
Unlocked.
The place is massive. The ceilings stretch too high, the walls too white, everything too pristine. There's barely any furniture. Just space and silence and air so still it feels like it hasn't been disturbed in years. You don't call out cause your manager said he wouldn't speak to you and that he likely wouldn't even show himself.
Just clean and leave. Do not go upstairs.
You hold your breath and step inside.
The air smells like cedar and something colder, like snow, if snow could haunt. You set your backpack down, find the gloves and cleaning supplies neatly packed inside, and glance around for somewhere to begin. The living room stretches out in an open floor planโwindows from floor to ceiling, giving a panoramic view of the city that glitters like it belongs to someone else.
You move quietly, gently, like the house might shatter if you're not careful, there's a faint creak above you that makes you freeze.
Somewhere beyond the mezzanine levelโa second floor, tucked behind shadows and sleek black railingsโyou hear slow footsteps. Nothing fast, just the sound of pacing but then it stops and you don't look up.
You don't have to but you can feel the weight of someone above you. Maybe it's just the paranoia settling in or maybe it's the echo of your manager's warning.
Don't go upstairs.
You lower your gaze and start cleaning the untouched coffee table. You don't see a single cup stain or a single fingerprint. You think of the journal in your bagโthe one you always carry, the one you use to write about your clients. He'll be in there by tonight, nameless, faceless. The man who lives upstairs like a ghost in the penthouse he knows.
For now, you work. Quiet and invisible. There's a fine layer of dust on everything. Not filthโjust time, settled air and neglect. No signs of life, no spilled coffee mugs or kicked-off shoes. Just clean lines, cold surfaces, and untouched space.
You start in the living room, wiping down the windowsills and working your way around the low furniture. The couch looks barely used, the cushions still stiff. You sweep, mop, vacuum, moving silently through the rooms that all look the sameโstunning, sterile, too expensive to feel real.
In the hallway near the back, there's a closet.
You pause in front of it.
It's nothing specialโjust a tall, sleek black door flush against the wall like all the others. But your fingers hesitate on the handle. Something about it makes your stomach twist. A soft wrongness that makes you not open it, that makes you turn around and just keep cleaning.
By 2:30, you've gone through the whole first floor. Kitchen wiped down. Bathroom gleaming. Trash collected and everything you were paid to doโdone.
But Cee's voice rings in your head; Even if you finish earlyโstay. No exceptions.
So you sit.
You settle into one of the chairs by the window, the soft hum of the city beyond the glass lulling you into something between boredom and thoughtfulness. You reach into your bag and pull out your journalโworn leather, pages soft at the edges.
You click your pen open and start writing.
Day one at the penthouse. It smells like dust and something else I can't quite name. The kind of clean that doesn't feel lived in. I didn't open the black closet near the back. It felt like something in a horror film but I'll pretend it's just full of broken umbrellas.
Got fired from the Do account. Still bitter. She had a face like a lemon and a heart to match. Professor was a much-needed balm in comparisonโthank God for her and her endless belief in me.
New job might be decent money if I don't screw it up. Cee says the guy who lives here is a recluse. Said he hasn't left the penthouse in two years. But I don't know. Maybe he's just lonely.
You pause there, tapping the pen against the paper. The upper floor is quiet. Still. You underline the word lonely and draw a small star beside it.
At exactly 4:00, you pack up your supplies, double-check every corner, and sling your bag over your shoulder and slide your journal right back into the side pocket of your bag, safe and sound.
You take the service elevator down, your own reflection warping in the mirrored steel walls, and step out into the cool evening air. The sun is already dipping lower, the clouds streaked in gold and gray.
The bus ride home is slower than usual. You sit in the back corner, forehead pressed to the rattling glass, zoning out to the lull of traffic and tired bodies. The city outside blurs past in tired shades.
As your apartment door creaks open, you start praying no one hears or sees you. But it's already too late.
Minjae's voice rings out sharp and annoyed. "I told you I'm looking, Jiyoon. What do you want me to do, lie on a fucking application?"
Jiyoon fires back just as quickly. "No, I want you to try! I'm covering your half of the rent again this monthโwhat do you think I am, an ATM?!"
You freeze in the doorway, trying to shrink into your coat. If you're quiet enough, maybe you can just slip pastโ
"Hey," Jiyoon says suddenly, spotting you over Minjae's shoulder. Her tone shifts fastโsofter now, almost guilty. "You just get in?"
You nod, shrugging your bag higher. "Yeah." "How's the nut house?"
You drop your bag by the door and stare at her. "The what?"
"The place you're cleaning. You know, that recluse guy who's likeโoff his rocker? Isn't that what your boss said?"
You toe off your shoes and mutter, "It's just a job."
Minjae grins walking away from Jiyoon's presence like the change in topic is suddenly the end of their argument. "I bet he's got some freaky shit there. Hidden cameras. Severed heads. Weird old dude stuff."
"I don't even know if he's old," you say, voice low. "And you don't know anything about him."
Minjae snorts. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
You turn back to Jiyoon, your constant irritation for her boyfriend crawling up your neck. "It's... weird," you admit. "But clean. Quiet. Better than getting yelled at by lemon-faced socialites, I guess."
Jiyoon gives you a weak smile. "Well, if anyone can survive a haunted tower or whatever that place is, it's you."
You hum, tired beyond belief, and slip down the hall toward your room without waiting for more, maybe more will come in the morning.
And when morning does come, it hits like a slow bruise. No alarm, just the muted scrape of a garbage truck outside and the sound of Jiyoon's laughter echoing down the hall, already too loud for the hour. You blink up at the water-stained ceiling, let the ache in your jaw settle, and for a few seconds, you don't move. The blanket's twisted around your leg like it's trying to keep you here. You wish it would.
But you're broke. So you move
You don't eat breakfast. There's no time, and besides, Jiyoon's boyfriend used the last of your cereal. You found the empty box in the sink this morning, soggy and limp with leftover milk, like a personal fuck-you from the universe.
Outside, the streets are still wet from last night's rain, the air sharp and cold enough to crack your lips. You tug your coat tighter around yourself and walk fast, half-hoping your legs will just carry you somewhere else. But the route to the campus library is too familiar, too automatic. You take the side street behind the deli, cutting through the alley behind the 24-hour laundromat where the machines always sound like they're choking. There's graffiti on the brick wall nowโsomeone's drawn a woman with eyes for hands.
The library is warm in that stale, overused way that makes you sleepy, but you know the quiet corner where the heater rattles just enough to keep you awake. You sit with your laptop and your headphones, the cushion on the chair still warm from the last desperate student who used it.
This is job number two.
You click play on the next transcription project; an audiobook manuscript from some retired executive who thinks the world needs to hear about his rise to glory. The audio crackles. His voice is deep, smug, like he's narrating his own documentary.
"It all began with a vision. I was just a boy, standing in my father's study, realizing the empire I'd one day build..." You try not to roll your eyes. Your fingers find the rhythm. You transcribe as fast as he talks, catching every word, every pretentious pause.
"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some, like me, are greatness incarnate."
Jesus.
You pause the audio and lean back, pressing your fingers into your temples. He's unbearable. Stillโyou need the money, so you press play again. But somewhere in the haze of his bravado, your mind drifts, not too far, just up.
Up to the penthouse you cleaned yesterday. The thick silence, untouched surfaces and the staircase you weren't allowed to climb. It all made something you couldn't name press down on the air.
You wonder what he sounds like.
The man who lives there, the one Cee called a shut-in, a recluse. Heeseung. You only know the name because of the envelope on the front table. You weren't supposed to look, but you did. Of course you did.
You imagine his voice now, layered under the pompous narration. Not loud or self-important. Just... quiet. Measured. Maybe hoarse from disuse. You imagine what it would feel like to hear it. To be the reason it breaks the silence. Your fingers falter. The word "greatness" stutters across the screen three times in a row.
You stop typing.
And for a second, you just sit there, headphones still on, the man's voice buzzing in your ears like a mosquito trapped in a jar, and you wonder if loneliness has a sound. And if maybe you've already heard it.
You leave the library when your laptop battery dies, the sky already smudged with dusk. Your ears still ring faintly from the droning of Mr. Greatness Incarnate. You swing your bag over your shoulder, scarf loose around your neck, hands shoved deep into your coat pockets. The wind cuts sharper than it did this morning. You're too tired to fight it.
By the time you reach your apartment building, you dread the climb to the third floor, not knowing what's behind your doorโand your key sticks like always when you jam it into the lock but when the door finally swings open, you freeze.
The apartment is clean. Spotless even.
No laundry tossed across the couch, no cereal bowls fossilized with milk crust sitting on the coffee table. The garbage isn't overflowing. There's even a faint citrus scent in the air, like someone opened a window and let the idea of cleanliness drift in.
And Jiyoon's on the couch. Calm. Legs tucked under her, hair braided down one side, munching on a bag of shrimp chips like this is just... normal. Like this is how things have always been.
You drop your keys into the chipped bowl by the door. "What happened?" She glances at you, shrugs. "I cleaned." You blink. "No, I mean... whatย happenedย happened. Did the landlord threaten an inspection orโ"
"I broke up with Minjae," she says, and pops another chip into her mouth like she didn't just detonate an-eighteen-month-long catastrophe with five words. "Told him to pack his shit and go."
You stare. "You what?"
Her eyes don't even flicker from the TV. "He was a leech. I hate leeches."
You're still frozen in the hallway, bag slipping down your arm, unsure what dimension you walked into. The silence feels wrong. Too still. Too empty. But... not bad.
Just different.
Eventually, your feet remember what to do, and you drift to your room, slowly, almost cautiously, like something might jump out at you. You twist your doorknob, push it openโand stop again cause there's a gift bag sitting on your bed.
Brown paper, neatly folded at the top, a little gold sticker sealing the tissue paper closed. You don't touch it right away, you just stare at it like it might explode.
Then you sit, gently, fingers trembling a little now. but peel the sticker away anyway, opening the bag.
Two bottles. Your favorite body wash. The same kind Minjae used up without asking. Double this time, still sealed and tucked between them, a noteโscrawled in Jiyoon's quick, sharp handwriting on a sticky note she probably pulled from her planner.
"I'm sorry."
It doesn't say anything else. Doesn't have to.
You let out this huff of a sound, half a laugh, half a sobโand press the heels of your hands into your eyes. You weren't ready for this, especially not after today, not after everything you've been through this week. You sniff, smile through the sting behind your eyes, and whisper, "What the hell is going on?"
For the first time in a long time, no one answers and it doesn't feel like a threat. Just... peace. Quiet, a rare kind.
And the bathroom is yours again.
*โข*โข*
The next morning wakes you gently.
Not with screaming or slamming doors or the unmistakable sound of Minjae trying to justify why rent is a social constructโbut with the smell of bacon.
You lie there for a moment, still curled in your sheets, nose twitching like it can't quite believe it. Bacon. And eggs. The sizzle, the clink of a pan. There's sunlight bleeding between the slats of your blinds, the kind of sleepy, golden light that feels warm just by looking at it.
You slip out of bed in your socks, shuffle into the kitchen, and there's Jiyoonโhair still messy from sleep, an oversized shirt hanging off one of her shoulders, poking a spatula at a pan like she does this every day, like this isn't a wildly new domestic era you've entered.
"Are you dying?" you ask, voice still rasped with sleep.
She smirks. "Sit your broke ass down. We're having breakfast." You do, blinking dumbly as she plates eggs and bacon and toast like some sitcom mom. The kind of meal that costs too much time and too many groceries for the world you live in. But it's real. It's on your plate. It's hot.
And it tastes like actual heaven.
"Okay," Jiyoon says through a bite, "you're not allowed to cry over eggs." "I'm not," you lie, chewing around the lump in your throat. "Shut up."
It's quiet for a beat, just the sounds of cutlery and your lives slowly stitching back together. Then she speaks, softer this time.
"I missed this."
You glance up.
"I meanโus," she says quickly. "It got weird. And Minjae wasโhe jโjust made everything about him. And I let it happen." You nod, eyes falling to your plate. "I missed you too."
And that's all it takes. The two of you just... fall back into it. Like nothing ever cracked. Like the gap never grew wide enough to drown you.
You're halfway through your second cup of coffee when your phone buzzes. A bank notification lights up the screen.
Deposit: $400.00 โ From: H.C.A. CLEANING INC.
Your breath catches and your stomach flips but you don't even have enough time to process it before a follow-up text comes in from your manager.
Cee: Well done. Keep it up.
You stare at your phone, stunned. Your fork hangs mid-air. "What?" Jiyoon leans over, eyes narrowing, trying to look at your screen. "What is it? What's that look?"
You show her the screen.
She lets out a whistle, snatching the phone out of your hand. "Four hundred dollars?! For one day?"
You nod slowly. "It's... the penthouse."
Jiyoon's eyes go wide. "Girl. Are you sure this isn't aย sex dungeon?"
"It's notโ!"
"I'm just saying!" she laughs, waving the phone in your face. "Do they need two cleaners? Cause I got two hands and a back that onlyย mildlyย hurts."
You snort.
"No, seriously," she grins, handing your phone back. "Keep this up, and you're gonna sugar mama us out of this hellhole."
"Us?"
"Obviously. I've already picked out my new bedroom. It has a balcony."
You shake your head, grinning despite yourself. The weight on your chest feels a little lighter today. There's food in your stomach, laughter in your lungs, and a number in your bank account that feels like it belongs to someone else. Someone who isn't drowning, maybe someone who could start swimming soon.
You rinse your plate in the sink, tie your boots, and throw on your coat with renewed resilience. There's something weird in your chestโnot bad weird. Just... fluttery. A quiet excitement you can't explain, maybe it's the money. $1200 a week is enough to make a broke girl like you feel fluttery.
The penthouse is a mystery. The man inside, even more so and something about it tugs at you. You leave the apartment with a full stomach and something flickering under your ribs that almost feels like hope.
The security guard barely glances up when you pass through the front lobby, your shoes echoing across the cold marble. You know the route nowโthe elevator on the far end, the one with the gilded trim and the keycard scanner that flickers green the second you swipe the little laminated badge clipped to your bag.
Penthouse access. Floor 45.
You ride up alone, the hum of the elevator filling your ears, your stomach still fluttering for some godforsaken reason. It's ridiculous, really. It's just cleaning. A job. A space.
Stillโthere's something about this building, this job, this manโsomething you don't have a name for yet. Something a little strange.
When the elevator dings open at the top floor, you step out and blink at the sheer silence. It always feels a little too still up here, like the air's holding its breath. You cross the short hallway toward the penthouse door, adjusting your bag over your shoulder, then pause.
A man is walking out.
Tall. Black coat. Black hair. He doesn't look up as he pulls the door behind him and lets it click shut. There's a thick folder of papers in his handโsome printed, some handwrittenโand he's flipping through them like he's on a mission. Brows furrowed as though he's deep in thought. You shift slightly to the side, give a small, polite "Good morning," but he doesn't respond, he doesn't even glance at you.
Okay.
You watch him disappear down the hallway, a little unsettled, but before your brain can start drawing conclusions, you catch something else. From behind the door.
Movement. Light.
A quiet creak, then a faint thump from the floor above. Rightโhe's upstairs. He hasn't come down, just like your manager said he wouldn't.
So, not Heeseung.
You shake it off, and push open the door to the penthouse. It's the same as last time. Too clean to feel lived in, a place more structure than soul. The marble kitchen glints under the soft daylight that pours in through those floor-to-ceiling windows, and the air smells faintly sterile. Like eucalyptus and untouched laundry.
You drop your bag by the door, change into your inside shoes, and head for the linen closet to start where you left off last time.
There's a note.
You spot it taped neatly to the inside of the closet door, white paper against the cool gray shelves. Typed in black ink, neatly, not handwritten.
You folded the towels wrong.
Beneath it, stapled neatly, is a printed diagram. A diagram with steps and numbered illustrations. You blink. It's absurd. It's pedantic. It'sโ
You laugh, quietly, to yourself. "What a nutjob," you mutter under your breath, echoing Jiyoon's words.
And then you catch yourself.
He's paying you. Four hundred dollars. For one day. To clean and to follow instructions. Folding towels properly is not asking too muchโnot for this kind of money, not for the kind of life you're trying to claw your way toward.
You shake your head, shoulders straightening, and refold every towel in the linen closet with the care of a military cadet. Corners aligned, fold sharp, just the way the diagram instructs.
Once you've checked them twice, you move on. The floorsโagain. There's always a thin veil of dust on the hardwood, like no one has lived here in years. The glass in the shower, the streaks on the chrome fixtures. You find a guest room with a window cracked just slightly, letting in the city noise below, and you seal it shut.
It's all the same movements as last time. Your body goes through the checklist while your mind wanders, as it always does. Little fragments of poetry rise up behind your eyes. A line about silence that weighs too much, about towels that speak louder than people. You file them away for later.
And like last time, you finish early.
3:26.
You double-check the space. Everything in order. Then you drift toward the single chair by the massive window that overlooks the skyline. The same chair you sat in last time. You pull out your journal, and you start writing.
He left a note about the towels. Said I did it wrong. I guess... he's not what I imagined. There's something almost neurotic about him, but not messy. Not in a Minjae way. It's all too deliberate. He's exacting. Controlled. Still not a trace of him anywhereโnot a pair of shoes, not a book out of place. It's like he's trying to erase his presence even though it's so obviously here, breathing under everything.
Your pen hovers, you almost scratch it all out, but you don't.
A soft thud interrupts you. Distant. Upstairs. You freeze, eyes lifting from the page.
Another sound. A voiceโmuffled. A man's voice, low and smooth, bleeding through the ceiling like the floorboards are too thin to keep him contained.
You can't make out the words, but you hear the timbre. The rhythm.
You write until your hand cramps and the ink starts to skip. At 3:52, you check the time and shut the journal slowly, your gaze drifting out the window for a long moment.
But then... it happens again.
Your eyes flick to the closet door.
Same as last time. Same quiet weight pressing against your chest when you look at it. You don't know what it is about itโjust a regular black door, no lock, no sign, nothing particularly ominousโbut it nags at you. And before you know it, your legs are moving.
Soft steps across the hardwood. You don't even really make the decisionโyou just find yourself there, hand on the doorknob, heart ticking unevenly.
It's probably something stupid. Creepy. Like a skeleton, or jars of teeth. A body. It's always the ones who care too much about towel folding who hide people in their walls.
You exhale, slow, and turn the knob.
The door creaks open.
It's dim, a strip of light spilling in over your feetโand then your eyes adjust.
Not bodies. Not bones.
Photos.
Hundreds of them. Pinned to corkboard walls, stacked in boxes, frames leaning against shelves. Posters rolled into rubber-banded scrolls. A trophy case sits in the corner, glass clean, the metal plaques catching the light like little knives.
You blink, stepping in cautiously.
There are certificates. Paper yellowed with age.ย Borletti-Buitoni Trust Award. First Placeโ2022. Van Cliburn International Piano Competition 2021. Tchaikovsky Conservatory Excellence Award 2023. All in English, some in Korean, some in French.
You walk along the wall, fingertips brushing the edge of a matte photo. A group picture. A symphony ensemble, maybe. Then another, a candid shot of a teenage boy at a grand piano, his hands hovering above the keys, his brow furrowed like the music is something physical he's trying to catch.
And then another. A close-up this time. His face.
Heeseung.
Your breath catches.
He's younger in theseโbaby-faced almostโbut you want to believe it's him. There's something about his posture, his expression, that quiet intensity even the camera couldn't wash out.
You crouch beside a crate of rolled-up posters and untangle one gently. The paper's dusty, brittle near the corners. When you unroll it, it flutters open across your lap.
A concert poster. The image glossy and faded with time: a sleek black grand piano under a single spotlight. A man sits at it, back straight, head bowed. His name sprawls across the top in elegant serif font:
LEE HEESEUNG
It's signed at the bottom, right across the curve of the piano. โWith love, always, LH.
You stare at it for a long moment.
And then... the pieces begin to arrange themselves.
The penthouse. The silence. The exactness. The distance. And nowโthis.
He must've been a concert pianist.
You blink again, stunned that you'd never heard of him. Someone who'd clearly been celebrated, decorated, known. At some point, at least.
You tuck the poster back carefully and ease the door shut behind you. But the quiet feels different now. Not empty.
The whole bus ride home, your brain won't stop flipping through those imagesโtrophies, posters, photos, that signature on the rolled-up poster.ย With love, always, LH. You hold it all in your head like puzzle pieces that almost fit, just not quite yet. But there's no mistaking itโthe man in the penthouse was someone once.
The apartment smells like garlic and soy sauce when you walk in. You blink at the strange scent, automatically bracing for another fightโbut it's quiet. Peaceful, even. The living room light is on, and Jiyoon's perched on the couch still in her stiff black skirt and her knock-off kitten heels, hair pinned up and eyeliner smudged.
"Hey," she says, not looking up from her phone. "Dinner's in the microwave. I made bulgogi."
You pause in the doorway, still blinking, confused. "You cooked?"
She shrugs. "Had a day. Needed to stir something before I murdered someone."
You heat up your plate and sink into the couch beside her, pulling your knees up and balancing the food on top. The meat is tender, warm and sweet, and the rice is just sticky enough.
"So?" she mumbles, mouth full of chips. "How's the nutjob in the tower?"
You laugh, almost choking on rice. "He's not a nutjob."
"Old man, then."
You glance at her. "He's not old."
She raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? And how do you know that?"
You chew slowly, smirking to yourself. "I did his laundry today."
"Oh?" She sits up straighter, grinning. "And what? The briefs don't lie?"
You laugh, snorting, and try to wave her off, cheeks hot. "No, justโhis clothes. They weren't... old man clothes."
She gives you the most exaggerated eyebrow wiggle you've ever seen. "Ohhhh. So they wereย hotย man clothes."
"Shut up."
"You want to see what he looks like," she accuses, pointing a chip at you.
You mumble something under your breath, something you don't even realize you've said aloud until she gasps.
"What was that?" she demands. "Tell me. Tell me right now."
You set your plate aside and sink into the couch cushions, eyes on the ceiling. "Okay. Fine. I opened some weird closet in his hallway today"
Her jaw drops.
"And?"
You tell her everything. The photos. The awards. The posters and the certificates. The name. The signature. The signed poster. You recite the words, LEE HEESEUNG.
She blinks. "Wait. Wait wait wait. You mean the dude you clean for is famous?"
"Was," you say softly. "I think he was famous. He was a concert pianist."
There's a beat of silence then she's snatching up her laptop. "What are we doing just sitting here? Let's Google him."
You shift beside her as she types in his name watching it autofill halfway through. She scrolls.
First result: a blurry photo of a younger Heeseung at a concert, fingers splayed on the keys.
Second result:ย Top 10 Rising Stars of the Classical World.
Third:ย The Golden Boy of the Grand PianoโWhy Lee Heeseung Was Next.
There are photosโclean, posed ones, then live shots of him in motion, bent over the keys, expression contorted like the music is tearing out of him.
"Damn," Jiyoon whispers. "He was hot."
You smack her arm. "Focus."
She scrolls againโand then pauses.
You feel her go still beside you.
Her thumb hovers over the next headline.
Concert Pianist Lee Heeseung Suffers On-Stage Mental Breakdown During Performance.
Your stomach drops. It's dated 2 years ago.
"Holy shit," she whispers.
There's a thumbnail image of the article and beneath it, a video. Your fingers are trembling but you press play anyway.
The video opens on a massive concert hall. Heeseung sits alone at a grand piano under a soft blue spotlight. There's silenceโand then music. Soaring, masterful, all-consuming. His fingers move like they're made of air.
He plays so beautifully that you find yourself immersed but then, something shifts.
His hands slow. His face tenses. He mutters something under his breath, eyes wide like he's seeing something the rest of the room can't. Thenโ
A violent slam of the keys.
The audience flinches.
He starts playing again, erratically, pounding the piano with discordant noise. His head jerks to the side. He mutters again, louder this time. Words you can't make out. Security rushes the stage. The video ends in chaos, with the camera shaking, audience gasping.
You stare at the screen long after it's gone black.
"That's why," you whisper.
Jiyoon nods slowly. "That's why he lives like that now."
Neither of you speak for a long time. There's just the hum of the microwave clock ticking forward, the faint buzz of the fridge, the afterimage of that video burned into your mind.
Heeseung isn't just a recluse. He's a man who was once made of musicโand then unraveled by it.
The video plays again in your head when the screen's long since gone black.
Heeseung's face in that last shotโwild and glassy-eyed, hauntedโlingers like smoke. Even with the dinner gone and the dishes rinsed, even with the taste of bulgogi faded from your tongue, it clings to your ribs.
Jiyoon breaks the silence first. She sets her laptop down with a sigh and rubs her forehead like she's trying to will away her own stress.
"Anyway," she mutters, "my manager's still a raging bitch."
The shift in topic feels abrupt, like someone slammed the door on something unfinished. You blink and turn your head, trying to meet her halfway.
"She moved my report to a different folder this morning and then cc'd her manager asking where mine was," Jiyoon grumbles, tossing a chip in her mouth. "Like she didn't just put it there herself. I swear she's trying to build a case to get me fired."
You hum a vague sound of sympathy, but your eyes are unfocused. Your thoughts are half in that concert hall, half in that penthouse closet, all tangled up with things that don't make sense yet.
Jiyoon squints at you, crunching slowly. "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah," you say, blinking hard. "Sorry. I just..."
"You look tired," she says gently. "Like tired-tired. Go to bed."
You nod. "I will. Justโgonna change first."
She lets you go, and you disappear into your room, clicking the door shut behind you.
The quiet hits fast.
You peel off your jacket, your jeans. Change into your sleep shirt. The light on your desk is soft and yellow, and you go to your tote bag by instinct, unzipping it without thinking.
You freeze.
Your fingers reach the bottom of the bag.
You check again.
Then again.
Your journal's not there.
You turn the bag upside downโshake it, even though you know how pointless it isโand the only thing that falls out is a used lip balm, your wallet and your bus pass.
You drop to your knees beside the desk, rifling through the bag's compartments. Check under your bed. In your drawers. You dig through the laundry pile.
Your breath quickens. Your pulse starts to speed.
A whole year and a half. That's how long you've been writing in that journal. Every scattered thought, every tiny win, every loss, every panic attack, every private daydream. It's not just a notebookโit's you. You wrote yourself into those pages, over and over and you can think is; it's gone.
You dart back into the living room, voice already strained. "Jiyoonโhave you seen my journal? The brown one?"
She looks up from her phone, blinking. "Journal? No. Did you leave it at the library?"
You shake your head too fast. "NoโI had it with me. I know I had it with me. I wrote in it today, I always put it in the tote after, IโIโ"
She sits up straighter. "Okay, hey. Don't panic. Maybe it slipped out on the bus?"
You clutch your arms, stomach turning. The thought of it sitting there in some grimy bus seat, left behind, already flipped through by strangers, your handwriting exposedโyour insides exposedโmakes you sick.
Your throat tightens.
"Hey," Jiyoon says, getting up now, her voice softer. "It's okay. We'll retrace your steps tomorrow, alright?"
But you're already crying. Not big sobsโjust quiet, stunned tears, the kind that sting as they fall, the kind you can't stop once they start.
You laugh bitterly through it, pressing your palm to your mouth. "It's stupid," you mumble. "It's just a journal."
"It's not stupid," Jiyoon says, crossing the room and pulling you into a hug.
You close your eyes. Her office clothes smell like starch and soy sauce and the bad perfume her coworker probably wears, but her arms are warm and solid around you.
Still, your heart aches like something's gone missing.
And somewhereโsomewhere elseโthose pages are no longer just yours.
*โข*โข*
You don't even realize how much weight you've been dragging until it starts to leave marksโunder your eyes, behind your ribs, along your spine.
It's been a whole day without it. Twenty-four hours without your journal and you're already unraveling. Not crying anymoreโjust dulled out. The kind of sadness that makes everything taste like paper, feel like static.
Jiyoon tried her best. She really did. She even called in sick that morning just to help look. Said her manager could go chew on gravel, she didn't care. She pulled you out of bed, made you drink an iced coffee, and walked with you back to every single place you'd been.
You retraced your steps with her hand on your shoulder the entire timeโgentle, like you'd break.
Back to the library. Back to the plaza where you sat for five minutes waiting on the bus. You even got on the same damn route, asked the driver if he'd seen a brown journal with an elastic band and too many taped-in receipts.
Nothing.
Just a kind smile from a man who said he was sorry and wished you luck.
So when Friday comes aroundโwhen you have to drag yourself out of bed again for the penthouse jobโyou feel heavy. Disconnected. You brush your teeth with your eyes half-closed. Tie your laces without bothering to double knot them. You're not crying, not even angry, justโ
Faded.
You leave the house a little past nine. Jiyoon waves from the couch but doesn't try to stop you. She knows money talks, even when you're too tired to listen.
You arrive at ten sharp like always. Same hallway, same elevator ding, same code punched into the keypad.
The door opens.
And the stillness inside hits you harder than usual. Not just quietโvacant. Like the walls themselves are holding their breath.
You don't bother kicking off your shoes this time.
You walk in and turn toward the kitchen to get the suppliesโstraight to the cabinets under the sinkโand that's when you freeze.
There.
On the counter.
Your journal.
You stand still for so long the air starts to pulse in your ears cause it's open. Pages parted like a secret mid-sentence. And the breath that's been caged in your lungs for a whole day catches halfway up your throat.
You move closer. Like if you blink too hard it'll vanish.
It's turned to that entry. The one you wrote after cleaning here the first timeโwhere you wrote about the towels and the light and the strange emptiness of a life lived up high and alone. The part where you called him lonely.
Your eyes track the handwriting in the margin. Small. Neat. Slightly angled.
An arrow is drawn from the word lonely and next to it, in ink that definitely isn't yours:
you have no idea.
Your throat goes dry.
You run your fingertips over the wordsโhis wordsโlike touching them will make them make sense. But they don't. Not really. They just buzz in your chest like something secret and sad and suddenly real.
He read it. Heย readย it.
And not just read itโresponded.
You sink into the nearest stool, heart hammering, holding the journal like it might slip away again.
This manโthis ghost of a man, the one who hides behind silence and rules and perfectly folded towelsโhe read you. And then he left this like it wasn't a confession. Like it wasn't a crack in the wall you didn't think you'd ever see.
"You have no idea."
You don't.
But for the first time, you think you want to so you tear a sheet from the back of your journal. The lines are faint blue, the edge ragged where it rips. You stare at it longer than necessaryโlike the paper's going to change its mind about letting you say what you need to.
Your hand shakes as you write it,ย "I didn't mean to be invasive, just honest."
You don't sign it.
You fold it in half once, then again. Then you slide it under the coaster on the marble coffee tableโtucked, but not hidden. If he wants to find it, he will.
And then you're out the door. Before 4, for the the first time not caring about the rule.
*โข*โข*
When you get home, Jiyoon's door is locked. You knock once, then try the handle. Still locked. "Jiyoon," you call. "Let me in." Nothing, so you knock harder. When she finally opens it, her hair is a mess and her cheeks are a deep, guilty pink. She looks like she just sprinted a mile and saw God somewhere in the middle of it.
You know what she was doing but you don't care, you just brush right past her and drop your journal on her bed like it's a live grenade.
"He read my fucking journal," you hiss, turning on your heel. "He wrote in it." "What!?" Jiyoon gasps, not even trying to play it cool. "That's where you left it?!"
"I didn't mean to!" "Waitโhe wrote in it? Like,ย wroteย wrote? Pen to page?" You nod, pacing like your bones are electric. "He responded to a line I wrote about him being lonely. Justโdrew an arrow to it and wrote 'you have no idea.' Like what the fuck is that even supposed to mean!?" "That'sโ" She stops. Blinks. Then starts again, because of course she has to. "That's kind of hot," she says, lips twitching.
"Jiyoon!" "Okay, okay! It's fucked up, but it's also..." She trails off, thoughtful. "It's kind of giving tortured artist. Haunted tower. Piano-playing ghost with emotional constipation." You flop onto her bed, face buried in your hands. "I feel violated. But also like...I violated him first? Is that weird? I feel like we both got naked and didn't mean to."
"That is the weirdest metaphor you've ever said," Jiyoon mutters, but there's affection under it and you're about to respond but then your phone rings. Shrill and loud against the padded silence of Jiyoon's room. You check the screen and it's Cee. You answer it with a sigh. "Hello?" "What theย fuckย is wrong with you?" He barks immediately. "Did you leave before 4?" Your stomach drops. "Yes, I did, butโ"
"You had clear fucking instructions! You don't leave before 4. Ever."
"I had to. I was done, Iโ" "I don't give a shit," he snaps. "From now on? You clean for him every day. That's what he wants." You blink. "Every day?"
"Every. Fucking. Day. Starting tomorrow." The line goes dead. You lower the phone slowly and Jiyoon's looking at you like you just told her you're moving to Mars. "You're cleaning for him every day?" You nod, feeling numb. She whistles. "Guess you better start folding towels in your dreams."
You flop back on her bed again, journal beside you, limbs heavy and brain scrambled, because somehow this man has read your secrets, insulted your towel folding, haunted your thoughts and gotten you trapped in a daily cleaning contract. You stare at the ceiling, heart a mess of beats. You truly have no idea what the hell you've gotten yourself into, just like Heeseung wrote.
*โข*โข*
You hate today. Not in the throwaway I-hate-Mondays kind of way, but in that deep, simmering,ย "I'd rather get hit by a bus than scrub your already-clean floors for six hours"ย kind of way. It's Saturday.ย Saturday. And you're supposed to be doing anything else. Sleeping in. Going to the corner store with Jiyoon in your pajamas. Sitting in silence and mourning the part of yourself that used to be a free woman.
Instead, you're here. The penthouse again. Cold and looming and weirdly beautiful in a way you hate to admit. It's only 9:30. You're early and you could wait. Youย shouldย wait. But something reckless and slightly unhinged is buzzing in your bloodโmaybe it's the journal thing, or the fact that he read every single thing you've ever written about yourself. You don't know.
You just know that this time, you're not waiting. You take the elevator up. No code. No warning. Just your footsteps, soft and slow, echoing across the marble as you step into the penthouse and thenโyou stop. Dead.
Because there's someone already down here, in fact two someones. One of them, you recognize as the man you saw leaving that dayโnow unmistakably a doctor of some sort, clipboard in hand, every movement clinical and restrained. He's sitting next to another man. A man who'sโ Ohย fuck.
Shirtless.
Barefoot. Wearing only a pair of jeans that hang low on his hips like they're barely there at all. Lee Heeseung, the one on all the pictures and posters in the haunting closet, the one from the articles you saw.He's not a ghost or a shadow upstairs. He's definitely real and he's here, laughing at something he just said, a low warm sound that breaks the silenceโand then cuts off the second he sees you.They both stare and you can't help but stare back cause your brain short-circuits because not only is he realโhe's gorgeous. Devastatingly beautiful in a way that feels cruel. Sharp jaw, dark hair a mess, skin golden and soft in the morning light and then the audacity of the amused curl of his mouth as he takes you in.
The doctor doesn't laugh at Heeseung's joke, he just closes his clipboard with a hard snap, locks the files into a black case with practiced hands, mutters something clipped to Heeseung, and walks past you like you're air. You don't move, not because you don't want to but because you can't. And now Heeseung just stands there, right in front of you, 6 feet away. Shirtless.
As if this is all some sort of routine, where he expected you to show up early to catch him sitting there. Then he speaks. Voice low, smooth, maddeningly calm. "You're early."
You blink, stunned mute. He cocks his head slightly. Barely.
"Is this how you always barge into my home?" You open your mouth but you have to close it again because no words will come out.Because all you can think isย holy shit. Not only is he not old, like Jiyoon said, not only is he not some weird piano hermit ghostโhe is breathtaking. And apparently, deeply unbothered by the fact that you've just witnessed whatever strange intimate evaluation that was.
"Iโsorry," you finally manage, voice rough to the point of shame. "I didn't thinkโthere was someoneโupstairs, usuallyโ" Heeseung raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "You didn't think as I didn't think you'd be here before ten, hmm?" You bristle, flustered and mortified and somewhere under all that, burning. "I'm just here to clean." He smiles at that and it's not kind, it's not mocking either. Just... knowing, he's got that lookโthe kind that says he's already pages ahead in your journal entry for tonight, already memorized the lines, already knows exactly how this ends.
"Good," he says. "Then clean." And he walks past youโslow, easy, barefoot stepsโdisappearing back up the stairs without another word. Leaving you there, alone with your rage, your humiliation, and your heart pounding so loud in your chest it echoes in the silence. What do you do now? You clean. Of course you do. That's what you're here for, and you already showed up thirty minutes earlier than you were supposed to, so now you're finishing faster than usualโdusting the shelves with extra care just to stall, organizing the rows of books he never touches, wiping down the marble countertops even though they don't look like they've been used in days.
And all the while your brain won't stop looping back to your journal on his kitchen counter, to the handwriting in the margins that isn't yours, to the arrow pointing right to the word lonely and the quiet weight of you have no idea written beneath it.
It's unfair, you think, the way he's just living in his architectural digest penthouse, barefoot and cryptic, while you're pacing through his living room, trying not to wonder how much of your life he's read. You almost forget the weight of itโalmostโuntil he's suddenly back.
You hear him before you see him, the soft sound of his footsteps against the dark wood floor, and when you turn, there he is.
Coming down the stairs like a fucking problem you can't afford to have, still barefoot, still in those jeans that hang too low on his hips, but now in a loose linen shirt that he didn't even bother to button all the way.
It's distracting, infuriatingly so. You don't even want to think about how hot he isโbecause it's wrong, and messy, and also, you're still mad.
He sees you before you can pretend you weren't watching him descend like some kind of fallen angel with unresolved trauma, and for a moment, he says nothing. Just stands there at the bottom of the stairs, head tilted slightly, his eyes unreadably deep, like he's trying to pin you to the spot with silence alone.
Then he turns, walks toward the closet in the hallwayโthe one with the photographs and trophies and that signed, rolled-up poster of his own damn faceโand you stare after him without meaning to, without even trying to be subtle. There's something about the way he moves, like someone who hasn't had to explain himself in years, like someone who only speaks when the silence becomes too loud to tolerate.
You don't expect him to come back out and walk straight toward you and you definitely don't expect him to stop right in front of you to speak.
"Do you always sit in my chair when you psychoanalyze me in your journal?" His voice is even, smooth, and just sharp enough to make your jaw clench. There's something teasing in it, mocking maybe, or maybe just observant, but either wayโit makes your chest tighten.
You straighten where you sit, looking up at him without flinching. "You had no right to read my journal."
He doesn't flinch either.
"You wouldn't read a strange book you found in your house?"
And that's what throws youโhow casual he says it, how unbothered he is by the violation, like it was never that serious to begin with.
In your head, you're screaming. Not because you're scared, but because it's almost worse that he read it without hesitation. Because that journal was yours, it was everything. A year and a half of pain and boredom and loneliness and softness and tiny bursts of joy that you didn't know where else to put. Little poems about love you've never felt. Sentences that barely made sense to you at the time. Half-finished stories and full-bodied grief. And now he knows. Maybe not all of itโbut enough.
You bite your tongue before your mouth runs wild, but your thoughts are already racing.
He read it. He read all of it, probably. God, did he see the poem you wrote about the boy who only existed in your dreams? Did he read the list of things you want to do before you die? Did he see the part about wanting someone to ask you how your day was, without needing a reason?
You want to be mad. You are mad. But under that is the hot sting of embarrassment, the helplessness of being seen without warning, without consent.
He's still watching you, expression still unreadable.
You blink hard. "It wasn't for you."
"I figured."
You exhale sharply through your nose. "Then why did youโ"
He cuts you off without cutting you off. His voice is softer this time. "I found your note."
That makes your stomach turn.
You remember the note. I didn't mean to be invasive, just honest.
You didn't even think when you left it. You just wrote it and ran. And now he's standing here, bare feet planted firmly on the floor, chest half-exposed, staring at you like your truth didn't scare him off at all.
"I don't think you're invasive," he says. "You were just... honest, like you said."
That word again.
And suddenly you're not sure what this is anymoreโwhat he is. Because he's not yelling. He's not smug. You don't even think he's trying to humiliate you, he's just standing there, calm, casualโas if this is routine, as if your journal wasn't a goddamn blueprint of everything you never said out loud. As if he didn't drag his pen under the word lonely and scrawl you have no idea in the margins, careless, cruel, and so absurdly calm about it.
You really don't know what to say but you guess your silence must say enough, because his eyes soften just enough to sting.
"People don't usually stay when I'm honest," He says it like it's already written in stone, something that happened, not something he's choosing.
You just sit there, unsure if you're still furious or if your heart just broke a little for a man you don't understand at all.
You really want to ask him why he wrote in your journal, why he felt comfortable enough to reply to it like you were in some kind of conversation. You should get up and walk out, slam the door for good measure, remind him you're the help and he's a man who's too comfortable living above the rest of the world, shirtless and half-smiling at things that should have been private. But instead, you're still sitting there.
And instead of leaving, you ask, "What's with the whole coming at ten and leaving at four thing?"
He blinks.
It's not the question he expected, maybe not the one you expected either, but it's already out in the air now and hanging between you like mist.
He exhales through his nose, shifting his weight slightly as he leans a hip against the back of the chair across from you. You watch the movementโtoo closelyโand hate how your eyes keep catching on the little things: the curve of his collarbone, the faint line of a vein down his forearm, the way he smells faintly like vanilla and clean linen. You force your gaze back up to his face.
He doesn't answer right away.
Then, after a moment, he says, "I just thought six hours was enough time for you to do what you needed."
It's almost clipped, controlled.
"And..." He pauses, eyes flicking to the side, as if choosing his next words carefully. "It's better for you if you follow it."
You blink. "What do you mean better forย me?"
He shrugs one shoulder, nonchalant but not exactly casual. "You walked in on something you weren't supposed to see this morning."
Your mind flashes back to that momentโthe doctor, the manilla folders, the way Heeseung was sitting on the chair laughing to himself with no shirt on and then suddenly not laughing at all.
Your throat feels a little dry.
"You mean the doctor?" you ask carefully.
He nods once. "Yeah." Then, quieter, "There are... things I deal with. Things I don't need anyone witnessing."
It's not quite a warning. Not quite a confession either. It floats in the space between.
You shift in your seat, uncertain. "So the schedule is more for... your privacy?"
He lets out a sound that's almost a laugh but not quite, low and humorless. "Sure. Let's go with that."
There's something in the way he says it that tells you he doesn't really mean itโnot entirely. Like there's more he could say if he wanted to, but he doesn't.
Still, you nod slowly, even though you don't really understand. Even though the idea of spending six hours in a place that holds your most personal words hostage is suffocating.
Even though his presence is starting to feel... electric in the worst and best way.
And then, after a beat, you ask softly, "And what happens if I don't follow it?"
He looks at you.
Really looks at you.
And for a second, something shifts. The air between you turns thicker, heavier. You can feel his eyes like heat on your skin.
"I don't think you'd want to find out," he says, voice low and quiet, but not threatening. Just true.
And you believe him.
Not because you think he'd hurt you. But because there are some parts of himโsome stories, some shadowsโyou haven't earned the right to touch yet.
You don't answer.
You just hold his gaze until it feels like it burns and then drop your eyes to your hands and stand up to walk away, walk towards the door
He straightens then, subtly, pushing off from the chair like the moment's passed. You don't know if you're relieved or disappointed.
"Of course a person as beautiful as you would write so heartbreakingly beautiful." It's low. Almost to himself. Like he didn't mean to say it aloud.
But you hear it.
And it feels like your ribcage cracks clean in half.
You turnโjust slightly, just enough to look at him over your shoulder. He's not even watching you. He's looking down at the floor, one hand resting loosely on the back of the chair like he hadn't just broken you open and left you bleeding all over his expensive floors.
"What did you juโ" you almost ask but he's already cutting you off. "You're done for the day, right?"
You barely nod, fully facing him now, bewildered.
"Then you should go."
You turn around and walk slowly, legs a little stiff, journal heavy in your bag, chest heavier still.
And as you move past him, toward the front door, he doesn't say anything else.
He just watches you go.
You walk home like your body isn't yours, it feels like your bones are made of sound, the way you hear everything but can't feel a single step. Your bag is even heavier than it should be for some reason.
The door to your apartment creaks as you open it. Warmth hits you in the face. Jiyoon's music is loudโsome upbeat synth-pop song she always plays when she's cookingโand the smell of garlic and oil and something spicy wraps around you like a familiar blanket. But you don't step in right away. You stand in the doorway a little too long, still wearing your shoes, still holding your keys in one hand like you forgot what they're for.
Then she turns. She sees you.
And she freezes.
The music doesn't. But she grabs her phone and hits pause mid-chorus, eyebrows already pulled together in the way they do when she's bracing herself for gossip. "You look... feral."
You blink. "What?"
"Your face," she says, pointing a wooden spoon at you. "It's giving war-torn romantic heroine. What happened?"
You close the door behind you. You walk inside. You don't know where to begin.
So you say the first thing that spills from your mouth.
"I saw him."
She doesn't need clarification. "Him?"
You nod.
"Lee Heeseung?"
You nod again.
She gasps so loud the spoon hits the floor.
You don't laugh. You can't.
"He was shirtless," you add quietly, like it's something illegal.
Jiyoon makes a noise so high-pitched only the dead could hear it.
"No. No. No," she says, rushing over and grabbing both your arms like she's checking for a pulse. "You have to tell me everything. And I mean everything. Did he talk to you? Did he breathe near you? Did he smell good? Does he look weird? Did you black out? Are you still alive? Blink twice if you need CPR."
You let out a long breath, barely a laugh. "He was laughing with some man. A doctor, I think. He was barefoot. Just jeans, low. He didn't even look at me at first. Just kind of... existed."
You don't realize how tightly you're gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles start to ache.
"Then he did see me later when he came back down, I was sitting. In that chair I said I always journal in. And he just... stared. Then he disappeared into that hallway closet with all the photos and came back out without something, and I watched him the whole time like a creep." Jiyoon looks winded. "This is already the best thing I've ever heard."
"He asked me if I always sit in his chair when I psychoanalyze him in my journal." Her eyes explode. "No."
You nod. "Yes."
"What did you say?"
"I told him he had no right to read it."
"Did he deny it?" You shake your head slowly. "He saidโand I quoteโ'you wouldn't read a strange book you found in your house?'" Jiyoon puts her whole body on the counter, like gravity's too much. "This is sick. This is sick. I can't believe you're living out the plot of the exact kind of emotionally unstable literature you always say you hate." You let your head fall next to hers. "I'm going to have to switch some of my classes."
She lifts her face, blinking. "Wait, what?"
"I can't keep going in the mornings. Not if I'm cleaning for him every day. The only opening left in my schedule is evening sections and some online ones, and I'll probably miss my favorite professors class."
"You love that class."
"I know."
"I don't know if you can tell but you're kind of acting like it's worth it"
*โข*โข*
You wake up feeling weirdly... eager. Which is insane in your opinion. It's cleaning. You're going to clean for six hours in a house where the walls are silent and the air feels kind of tight, and maybeโmaybeโhe'll come down again. Maybe he won't. You tell yourself it doesn't matter. You dress in your usual oversized tee and leggings, but you switch your sneakers for the cleaner pair, the ones without scuff marks. You spend longer on your face than necessary. Just moisturizer, a little concealerโnothing obvious. Just in case. You tell yourself it's just habit. You tell yourself a lot of things.
You get there at 9:57. By 10:02, your coat is hung up and the cleaning supplies are laid out in their usual corners. The house is quietโsame as alwaysโbut now it's a different kind of quiet. Now you know who it's holding and it makes you all irrationally aware of everything.
You start with the mirrors.
Not because they're dirty. They're not.
But because they reflect the hallway, and every time you glance up, you can see the top of the stairs.
By 11:17, you've vacuumed every rug on the main floor. Nothing.
By 12:04, you've re-organized the kitchen drawers. Again. Not that he'd notice. You don't even know if he uses them.
By 12:58, you're dusting frames that don't need dusting, glancing at the ceiling like footsteps might fall out of it.
By 1:45, you've convinced yourself he's not coming down. That yesterday was a one-off. That he's upstairs doing whatever rich, complicated people doโbrooding maybe, like some Austenian shut-in. You try to laugh at yourself for even caring but it sits low in your chest. He's just a man, you only even met him once.
So why does it feel this weird? You're so distracted you almost forget to check the pantry. You always check the pantry. And when you finally do, you find it's already been stocked. Someone else did it.
Maybe him.
Your stomach turns and don't know why. By 3:50, you're packing your things, fingers slow on the zipper of your bag. By 3:56, you're glancing around the room like it might give you a reason to stay longer. By 3:58, you hear it.
Footsteps that make you freeze. And there he is.
Heeseung. Descending the stairs like it's nothing. Like he didn't make you wait all day without knowing you were waiting. He's wearing another linen shirtโthis one in charcoalโand it's loose over his frame, the top two buttons undone. His hair is a little messy, like he's been lying down or pulling his fingers through it and, he's barefoot again. He smiles.
"Hey," he says, voice warm in that slow, easy way. "You're still here." You swallow. "Not for long."
He steps down the last stair. "How was your day?" You blink at him. It takes a second for your voice to catch up. "I spent it here. You tell me." His brows lift a little. Not offendedโmore amused. He shifts his weight and leans against the banister.
"I missed my favorite class."
"You're a student? And you missed a class? Because of this?" You glance down at your hands. They're still a little red from scrubbing tile. "Yeah."
He's quiet for a second. "Have you had dinner?" You start to say noโbut your stomach betrays you before your mouth can lie. It growls. Audibly. Your eyes go wide and he laughs at your expression. "Sit," he says, already turning toward the kitchen. "I'll make something."
You blink. "What? No, that's notโ" He turns to look at you over his shoulder. "Sit." And there's something in the way he says it that has you obeying, hesitantly still. The counter's cool beneath your palms as you lower yourself into the chair, eyes tracking his every movement. He moves so naturally in the kitchenโopens the fridge with one hand, pulls down a skillet with the other, all casual familiarity and soft clattering sounds. It smells like garlic again. Butter. Something fresh.
"What are you making?" you ask.
He shrugs. "Something edible. Hopefully."
Heeseung's cutting vegetables like he's done it a thousand times. He slices a tomato without looking down, throws it into a pan, then adds something else from a jar. The sizzle is instant.
You lean forward. "Do you cook for all your maids?"
He pauses, halfway to the sink. Then he glances at you, a slow grin spreading across his mouth. "You're barely a maid."
"Excuse me?"
He shrugs again, that same lazy charm. "Have you seen the state of the guest bathroom?"
You laughโactually laugh, the sound startling even to you but you catch yourself wondering why you're not offended he just insulted your cleaning skills. You watch his smile grow wider and somehow, in the scent of sautรฉing herbs and low music playing from the speaker he must've turned on when you weren't looking, it feels normal. Almost. Except not at all. Because when he sets the plate down in front of you, you look up to thank himโand he's already watching you. Eyes soft and focused.
And for the first time all day, your chest doesn't feel so tight.
You dig in and it's stupidly delicious, making your eyes go wide again, mouth still full. "Okay.
That's insane."
Heeseung chuckles, taking a bite of his own.
You point your fork at him. "You made this? Just now?"
He nods, watching you intently. It doesn't take long before the plates are emptyโyours cleaned down to the sauce, his barely touchedโand there's music playing from somewhere in the house, something soft and unfamiliar, all instrumentals and quiet piano.
You're both still sitting at the counter, opposite ends, your elbows propped up, legs curled beneath the stool. He's lounging with his long body twisted toward you, shirt sleeves rolled up, one hand holding a wine glass he hasn't taken a sip from yet.
The conversation has slowed into something looser nowโeasier. He asked what books you've been reading lately. You asked if he's always this good at cooking. He pretended to be modest and then very much wasn't.
And then you ask, "Why every day?"
He looks at you. "Why did you suddenly want me to come clean every day?" There's a beat of silence. Heeseung's gaze drops to the rim of his glass, the edge of his thumb skimming around it once, twice.
"When I saw your note," he says finally, voice lower now, "I didn't know what to do with it." He lifts his eyes, meets yours.
"I knew you weren't going to come again until the day after next. And it made me... restless. Waiting for a reply. Not being able to ask."
You inhale, slow and careful.
"And then I read your journal."
You stiffen a little, but he doesn't apologize. He doesn't even flinch.
"I didn't read all of it," he adds, leaning forward, closer. "I swear. Just some pages. A few entries. And one poem."
You stare at him.
He sets the glass down. Both elbows on the counter now. His fingers lace together.
"I read this lineโ" he begins, eyes on yours, "Your silence filled the house louder than your voice ever did."
You're stunned like your brain can't comprehend he's reciting your poem word for word.
He doesn't even blink. "I memorized the gaps in your sentences like scripture. I waited for the ending, but all you left was air."
Your mouth opensโjust barelyโbut you can't speak.
"There's still a teacup on the windowsill. There's still a sweater on the hook. There's still a ghost in the shape of you that lives in the room where you never said goodbye."
You whisper the final two lines without thinking.
"And I still set the table for two, like a fool. Like you might remember that you left me starving."
His lips partโjust slightly. Your voice had gone soft at the end, cracking a little, like it didn't want to be said out loud. And maybe it didn't. Maybe it never was.
You didn't even think it was that good. You wrote it half-asleep. You'd forgotten you even. "I needed to know," he says, not looking away, "who could write something like that."
You're quiet for a long time. "You shouldn't have read it."
"I know."
"I didn't write it for anyone toโ"
"I know," he says again, voice quiet now. "But I couldn't help it. I wanted to meet the person behind it. I wanted to see if you'd look at me the way your words did."
The room is suddenly very still.
You don't know what to say. You don't know if there's even language for the way your body is reacting. There's heat in your throat, under your skin, behind your ribs. You should leave. You really should but instead you ask, "Do I?"
His brow creases. "Do you what?"
"Do I look at you that way?"
He doesn't answer your question, not with words anyway. Just studies you with that same unreadable stare, something flickering behind his eyes that makes it hard to breathe.
And then, as if someone's pressed fast-forward on the moment, he shifts his weight back and clears his throat softly. "Do you play any instruments?" he asks, voice casual, like he didn't just memorize one of the most vulnerable things you've ever written.
You blink. "What?"
He shrugs, gaze dropping to the counter. "You write. I assumed you like music."
"I do," you say carefully. "I like listening more than anything. I used to sing."
He hums, smiling faintly. "Used to?"
You sigh, deflecting. "It's different when people are watching. When you're older. The recorder was more forgiving."
That gets a real laugh out of him. He tilts his head, grinning. "The recorder?"
"Yes, and I was a prodigy. First chair in third grade." You press a hand to your chest dramatically. "The youngest to ever playย Hot Cross Bunsย with such emotional depth."
He snorts and leans closer like he's about to say something else, but the next thing you know, he's not across the counter anymoreโhe's beside you.
You don't know exactly when he moved, maybe it was when he stood up from the stool to put the plates in the sink, still laughing about the recorder joke.
His elbow brushes yours. His shoulder is an inch from yours. You feel his presence like heatโradiating and dangerous in the best possible way.
And somehow, you're still laughing. You're still talking about childhood instruments and music you like and whether jazz is romantic or just sad in a pretty way. He teases you for not knowing any Miles Davis and you tease him back for quoting poetry like a teenage girl with a Tumblr account.
It's light. Easy. It's so different from the static in the air earlier this week, from the careful distance you both tried to maintain. But now...
Now his hand brushes the counter beside yours. And your breathing changes. And the silence feels like a held breath.
You don't look at each otherโyou're still talking, kind of. But your voices are softer now. Lower. A little slower.
And then it happens.
Your eyes meet.
His face tilts just slightly toward yours, making your breath catch.
His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you and doesn't. His eyes drop to your lips. He leans in, just a littleโjust enough that the space between you cracklesโand you feel yourself tilting too, breath hitching, mouth parting.
And then he pulls back, all too quick andย
sudden. He clears his throat, looks away, stepping back so abruptly he almost knocks over the stool that was next to you.
You flinch at the sound.
"Iโ" he starts, then shakes his head, jaw tight. "You should go."
Your stomach drops.
"I didn't mean toโ" he breathes out, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't have to come tomorrow. Go to your class. I'll tell your manager."
You stay frozen for a second, eyes wide, lips still tingling with something that didn't happen.
And then you nod, slow. Trying not to show how much you're shaking. "Okay."
He doesn't say anything else.
You leave quietly.
But your pulse pounds in your ears all the way home and in the haze of it all you don't take the bus home.
You don't want the rush of itโthe closed windows and stale air and elbows brushing yours. You want air, real air, the kind that cools your skin and cuts through the confusion curling heavy in your chest. The heels of your sneakers hit the sidewalk harder than usual. You don't notice until your toes ache.
You can still feel it. The almost of his mouth on yours. His voice whispering poetry that used to belong to no one but you. The way he looked at you right before he pulled backโlike he could drown and not care.
You don't realize how far you've walked until your phone rings, sharp in the quiet. You check the screen and it's Cee. You sigh, thumb swiping across the glass.
"Hello?"
"Hey. Where are you right now?"
You blink. "Uh... on my way home. I finished cleaningโhe told me not to come tomorrow, soโ"
"Yeah, well, change of plans," he cuts in, voice tight, clipped. "He called. Wants you in tomorrow."
You stop walking. "What?"
"That's what I said. Twenty minutes ago, he told me you weren't coming. Five minutes ago, he said make sure you do."
Your grip tightens around your phone. You glance down at the pavement, cracked and worn, your shadow stretched long in the streetlight. "That... doesn't make sense."
"Welcome to my fucking week."
You don't know what to say. You try to remember exactly how he said it. You don't have to come tomorrow. You can take your class.
He said it like a kindness. Like a favor.
Or maybeโmaybe it was a trick. A test. Maybe you failed.
The line is quiet for a moment. Then, softerโsofter than you're used to from him, like he has to chew it first before he can let it outโyour manager says:
"Hey. Is everything okay over there?"
Your breath catches.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." A pause. "He hasn't done anything weird, right? Or tried something? You'd tell me, yeah?"
You blink again, hard. It feels like stepping off a curb you didn't see. Your lips part, your heart kicksโbecause no, he hasn't. But he almost did and you're starting to think maybe it would've been fine if he did. Maybe it would've been more than fine.
"No," you say quickly. "Nothing like that. He's... he's not like that."
"You sure?"
"Yes." You don't hesitate. "I don't want to quit."
There's silence on the line. You can hear him exhale.
"Alright," he says finally. "You're there again at ten. Don't be late."
You nod, even though he can't see you. "Okay."
He hangs up.
You just stand there. A low breeze rustles through the trees, brushes cool fingers against your neck.
He asked for you. After almost kissing you and pulling awayโafter telling you not to come tomorrowโhe called and asked for you. Your pulse flickers hot beneath your skin as your mind raced with questions.
Was he testing you?
Did he think you wouldn't come back?
You suddenly realize your mouth is dry, your throat tight. The stars feel too bright above you. Your phone buzzes in your palm, a silent reminder that something has shifted, again.
And for better or worse, you'll be seeing him tomorrow.
You don't even bother to take your shoes off when you get in the door.
The front door slams behind you harder than you mean it to, and Jiyoonโsweet, perceptive, too-curious Jiyoonโis immediately shouting from the kitchen, "Is that you? Are you okay? You've been gone forever, I was about toโ"
"I'm fine!" you yell back, already halfway down the hall. Your voice cracks halfway through the word. You don't even try to fix it.
"Waitโ" Jiyoon appears around the corner, wooden spoon still in hand, some ridiculous song playing from the speaker behind her. "Wait, wait, what happened? Did you see him again?"
You keep walking.
"Did heโ?"
"I'm fine," you repeat, softer this time but not gentler. "He said I don't have to come in tomorrow, so I'll probably go to my class."
"Oh my god, what does that mean?" she laughs, stepping after you. "Did you finally tell him off or did heโ?"
"I'm tired, Jiyoon," you mumble, hand on your doorknob. "So tired."
She crosses her arms. "You look like you just made out with someone in a Jane Austen novel."
Your face goes hot.
"I love you," you say, deadpan. "But I need to be alone right now."
She gasps dramatically, "You're hiding something! You always say I love you when you're hiding somethingโ"
You shut the door in her face.
Lock it.
Lean back against it.
Your heart is still thudding too loud in your ears.
You sink down to the floor, journal already in your hands before you even realize you've moved. Your fingers tremble when you unscrew the cap of your pen. You press it to the page.
And for a moment, you just sit there, not even writing.
Just breathing.
You write, He said I write beautifully.
Then, slower, He said he felt restless about not getting a response.
And then, He pulled away.
The ink smudges beneath your fingers. You don't wipe it away. You just keep writing, your handwriting more frantic than usual, trailing across the page in swooping spirals and crooked curves. You write about the way he looked at youโso real and intense it felt like it burned. About how close he was, how you could feel the heat of him.
About the poem.
How he remembered every word.
How you finished it together.
And when you're done, you stare at the pageโlike maybe it'll give you answers. Like maybe it'll tell you what it means when a man like Heeseung tells you not to come, then calls your manager like he can't bear not seeing you.
You close your journal.
And press it to your chest.
You crawl into bed, still in your jeans, feet hanging off the edge, journal clutched to your chest like a heartbeat you don't trust to stay steady on its own.
It takes everything in you to peel yourself away, toss the journal aside, and dig out your laptop from where it's tangled in yesterday's laundry on the floor. You log into your evening class with exactly thirty seconds to spare, camera off, mic muted, chin propped against the heel of your palm.
The professor's voice starts droning through your headphonesโsoft, monotone, familiarโand for a second you think maybe you can do this.
And then your eyelids get heavy.
You blink hard.
You scribble your name into the attendance chat and pretend like you're absorbing something, anything, while your mind floats right back toโ
That linen shirt hanging open just enough to see his collarbones. His voice, low and steady, reciting your words back to you like scripture. The smell of garlic and rosemary from his cooking still clinging to your hair. The way he moved closer without you even realizing. The moment before the kiss that never happenedโthe way your heart caught on the edge of it.
You shake your head violently, try to refocus. The slide on your screen says something about semiotic theory. You don't know what that means. You don't care what that means.
You're so screwed.
Your professor's voice fades into a low buzz, and you press your palm to your cheek harder, like maybe pressure can keep you conscious. It can't.
The laptop screen glares into your face. The chat scrolls with questions you don't have the energy to fake-read. You close your eyes just for a second.
You tell yourself it's only for a second.
Just one.
Justโ
You jolt awake six minutes later to your professor asking, "And how might this apply to authorial intent, Y/N?"
You blink, brain empty.
You type in the chat: Sorry, my mic's not working.
And you thank every god that ever existed for mute buttons.
*โข*โข*
You find yourself hovering just outside the penthouse door, hesitating.
Your fingers are curled in a loose fist, suspended midair like they've forgotten how to move. You've stood in this exact spot every day for about a week now, but this timeโthis time you're unsure. The same polished floor under your shoes, the same towering door with its sleek gold handle and silent weight, but something about today feels different. You feel different.
You almost turn around.
Almost.
But thenโvoices. Muffled, low but distinct, curling around the edges of the thick door.
You lean in without meaning to, breath held as if your body knows this is a moment you're not meant to be part of. You recognize his voice first, Heeseung'sโlight, teasing, a tone you've come to know well, though it still unsettles you how easily it affects you. The other voice is lower, older maybe, with clipped words and a sternness that makes your stomach tighten. It must be the doctor from the other day.
"No," the doctor says, firm and quiet. "Now isn't the time to have a new person around every day. You know that."
There's a pause. You hear something creakโmaybe a chair.
"It's fine," Heeseung replies, far too casually. "Nothing's happened. She's just cleaning. It's fine."
"She's not just cleaning."
There's silence. A long one. And thenโHeeseung's voice again, softer. "Maybe she's good for me."
You freeze. You don't know what they're talking about exactly, not in full, but the heat that rushes to your face is impossible to fight.ย Good for him?ย What the hell does that mean? And why does it make your chest feel like it's caving in? Before you can hear anything else, the door swings open, making you stumble back just in time, blinking up at the man who steps throughโtall, with sharp eyes that land on you and skim over every inch of your body like you're being scanned. He doesn't say hello, he doesn't smile just like last time. Instead, he mutters somethingโso low you barely catch it but the edge is there, sharp enough to wound. Something about "distractions" and "too young" and "another mistake."
You step aside without responding, your mouth suddenly too dry to speak. He walks past you with a slight shake of his head and a long sigh, like your very existence is a burden.
And thenโ
"Didn't think you'd come."
You turn back around.
Heeseung's standing in the doorway, barefoot again, hair still damp like he just showered, dressed in a loose gray shirt and soft black pants that cling to his hips in a way that makes your head fog. He's smilingโnothing too wide, just soft, like a secret meant only for you. Like he's genuinely happy to see you.
You open your mouth to say something, anythingโbut he's already speaking again.
"About yesterday," he says, stepping aside so you can walk in. "I'm sorry. I overstepped."
And the whiplash? It's instant. Because wasn't he the one who told you not to come today? All quiet and serious and guilt-stricken after nearly kissing you in his kitchen? Now he's soft again, familiar again, and it throws you completely off.
"You don't need to apologize," you say quickly, almost defensively, as you walk inside.
"I do," he says, just as fast. "I reallyโ"
"No, Heeseung." You stop and turn to face him, heart in your throat. "You really don't need to apologize."
He opens his mouth again, brows furrowing, about to insistโbut your voice cuts through the air before you can stop yourself.
Quiet. Barely a whisper.
"You didn't have to stop either."
Silence, all heavy and immediate. Heeseung just stares at you. Still and looking stunned. His lips parted like he wants to speak but the words haven't caught up to his brain. His eyes search your face slowly, like he's not sure if he heard you rightโor if you meant to say it out loud.
And maybe you didn't.
But you did.
And there's no taking it back.
The door clicks shut behind you before you can even remember stepping inside.
Heeseung doesn't move at first. Just stares at you like he's not entirely sure you're real. Like maybe he conjured you up somehow. His eyes stay on your mouth a little too long, and you try not to notice the way his chest rises and falls, slow and controlled, as if he's reminding himself how to breathe.
Then you say it again. Softer this time.
"You didn't have to stop."
It hangs in the air between you. Heavy, reckless and unapologetic.
Heeseung blinks once. His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes shutters. He exhales through his noseโshakyโand drags a hand through his hair, the curls still slightly messy from sleep or stress or something in between.
"That's inappropriate," he says, not unkindly. More like he's trying to draw a boundary he doesn't even believe in.
And the words sting. Maybe more than they should. Maybe because you were just beginning to feel something real stirring between the two of youโsomething outside of your job, your journal, your blurring lines. You freeze. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out at first, and it's too late anyway. He's already turning from you.
The confused hurt in your eyes stops him in his tracks, but only for a second. He looks back at youโand really looks. Something passes behind his eyes, quiet and aching. Regret maybe or worse, restraint. You watch his jaw flex, as if he's chewing on something bitter, swallowing all the things he'll never allow himself to say.
Then he's stepping away. A slow, deliberate retreat. His footsteps are soft against the stairs as he disappears up them without another word.
And just like that, you're alone. Again.
The silence is incredibly deafening.
Your hands are still trembling.
They have been ever since you left his place. You could barely wipe the kitchen counters without your fingers missing the edge. The dishes were spotless before you even realized you'd scrubbed them twice. Your head was everywhere but here, rerunning that momentโthat look in his eyes, the cold withdrawal of his body after your quiet, desperate confession.
And he never came back down.
You didn't know what you expected, but it wasn't this.
The day drags, and when the clock finally blinks 4:00, you practically flee. Your phone's already to your ear by the time you hit the elevator.
"I can't do this anymore," you say as soon as Cee picks up.
He sounds startled. "Do what? Are youโwhat happened? Are you okay?"
"Nothing happened. I justโ" You press your fingers to your temple. The weight of everything suddenly lands all at once. "I don't want to clean for him anymore."
He's quiet for a second. Then, softer, "Did he do something?"
"No. I just..." You sigh. "It's better this way."
And you think that's the end of it.
But the second you step into the building's reception, the front desk clerkโneatly pressed shirt, neutral expression, his name tag slightly askewโglances up from his computer. "Miss," he says, "Mr. Lee is asking for you upstairs."
You freeze.
Your mouth goes dry. "IโI was just up there."
He nods once, polite. "He asked me to let you know."
You hesitate.
Everything inside you says don't go. That this is how it always beginsโwith soft invitations and good intentions and doors that don't close fast enough behind you.
But your feet are already moving.
The elevator ride is silent, save the rush of your pulse in your ears. And when you push the door open, Heeseung is there, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. Waiting.
You can't read his expression.
"I figured you'd quit," he says. Not accusing. Not even upset. Just matter-of-fact, like he'd already prepared for it.
"I am," you say. "I think it's for the best."
There's a beat.
"I don't want that."
You scoff before you can help it, stepping inside, letting the door close behind you with a soft hiss. "I'm not even sure you know what you want."
You don't even realize you're walking until you're standing in front of him, so close you could count the lashes framing his eyes if you weren't too scared to look directly into them. There's something in his faceโsome falter in his composureโthat makes your chest feel too tight.
He doesn't move.
So you do.
Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, your heart hammers, and thenโyou're kissing him.
It's a mess of a thing. Sudden. Brash. Tipped forward on hope and recklessness. Your lips crash into his like a question you don't want answered andโ
Nothing.
He doesn't move.
Your lips are on his, but he's frozen. Unresponsive.
The rejection burns so fast it chokes you, and you start to pull back, humiliatedโbut something in you makes you whisper to him, "Please," you almost sound broken. "Please kiss me back, Heeseung."
That's all it takes.
The air leaves his lungs like he's been sucker-punched. His hands are on your face instantly, his mouth catching yours like he's been starving for it. Like the moment he tasted you, he remembered how badly he wanted.
And this time, heย answersย the question
His mouth is on yours like he's finally allowed himself to breathe. You're not sure who moves first after thatโhim or youโbut the space between you disappears completely. His hands are in your hair, on your waist, gripping your hips like he needs the reminder that you're real and here and kissing him back just as desperately.
And when he pulls away to look at youโface flushed, eyes dark and confusedโyou whisper again, barely audible, "Heeseung..."
That does it for him because you can swear you see the moment something in him breaks. Suddenly he's not hesitating anymore, like the sound of your voice cracked through whatever restraint he'd been clinging to, and now it was all unraveling.
He's swallowing the soft sounds you make, capturing every gasp, every whimper, like he needs to devour them, and his mouth is hot and insistent as it trails down your jaw, your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin like he's trying to mark the moment there.
You gasp when he lifts you without warning, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your arms around his neck. You can feel his heartbeat through his shirt. It's erraticโwildโmatching yours nearly beat for beat.
He sets you down on the kitchen counter like you weigh nothing, the cool marble biting at the backs of your thighs through your jeans. His lips return to yours before they begin their descent again, brushing over your collarbone, down the slope of your chest. His fingers find the hem of your top and pause, glancing up, breath hitching.
You nod.
That's all he needs.
He peels it off gentlyโtoo gently for the look in his eyesโand when your bra joins the growing pile of fabric, he's silent for a second. Just watching you. Then he exhales something like a curse and leans in, pressing slow, reverent kisses down your sternum, the curve of your breasts, dragging his teeth lightly, sucking your nipple into his mouth, making you shiver and arch into him.
Every time you whimper, he presses closer.
Every time you moan, he groans softly against your skin, like your sounds undo him.
And just when you think your legs might give out from how tightly your body is wound, he lifts you again. Not onto the floorโbut down, off the counter, and turns you gently, pressing you forward. You gasp softly as your hands meet the marble again, your heart stuttering.
Your jeans are tugged down with unhurried hands. Your underwear follows. You're so exposed. Breathless. And behind you, Heeseung lets out a shaky breath that sounds almost like a prayer.
One of his hands smooths over your lower back. The other grips your hip. "God forgive me," he whispers.
You don't know how to stay quietโnot when his mouth is trailing behind you, kissing the backs of your thighs, the curve of you, everywhereโand when he finally leans in, when you feel the first sweep of his tongue, your entire body jolts forward like he's short-circuited something deep inside you.
"Heeseungโ" It leaves your mouth like a sob.
He groans in response, tightening his grip around your thighs, but his pace doesn't falter.
And all you can do is press your cheek against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut, biting down on your own hand as he ruins you slowly.
Intimately.
He watches you unravel with so much intensity from beneath you, it's like he's trying to imprint every detail into memory. His tongue maps out every inch of you, teasing and tasting places you never realized could make you feel this wayโuntil he finds your clit again. Instinct takes over; your hips roll down against his mouth, and he responds with a low hum, gripping your thighs to hold them open just enough to tilt his head and drag his tongue lower once more. "Spread your legs for me baby" He whispers it in a way that has you thinking you'll do anything he says, as long as he says it in that voice.
Suddenly and surprisingly, he shoves his tongue deep inside you while using his fingers to rub tight circles against your clit. "HeeโAh!" You're moaning and whimpering so uncontrollably, the whole thing has your legs trembling where you're stood. You're convinced if he wasn't holding you up himself you'll collapse from the pleasure and pressure of it all.
His tongue is incredibly relentless, slurping you up, not even caring that he's drooling down his chin with your essence, "Wait! W-Wait!" You cry out suddenly.
"What? What? What's wrong? Did I huโ" His words cut through to you as he gets up off his knees where he was, but you're cutting him off and pulling him for another deep kiss, hopping yourself up on the counter again. Heeseung kisses you back like he's starvingโlike you're the first thing he's ever been allowed to want.
Your hands are in motion before you can think. Clumsy, eager, pulling his shirt halfway out from where it's tucked into his sweats, feeling the heat of his stomach beneath your palms. You moan into his mouth and his hands squeeze your thighs in response, hard enough to leave a mark.
He doesn't stop you when your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants. If anything, he kisses you harder. His tongue sweeps into your mouth like he owns itโowns youโand you're letting him. Begging for more.
Your hands are shaking when you fumble at the button of his slacks, but you manage to get it undone, your fingers brushing the trail of skin that dips below the waistband. Heeseung lets out a sharp, broken sound against your mouthโfuckโhis head tipping forward, forehead resting against yours as you palm him through the fabric.
You weren't ready for how hard and heavy he would be in your hand. It was like the length of him just went on and on.
You feel the twitch beneath your palm and gasp, and his breath stutters like he's seconds from losing it.
"Jesusโ" heeseung grits, his voice deep and wrecked. His head tips back, neck exposed, throat bobbing, you've never seen someone come undone like this.
He's panting now, hips shifting forward like he needs the friction, like your hand is the only thing anchoring him.
"Is this okay?" you whisper, breathless, your voice barely steady as you trace him again, bolder this time.
His eyes find yours, blown wide and unreadable, lips parted. "You're gonna kill me," he breathes, but he nods. "Don't stop. Please take it out,ย please."
Your hand moves again, more confidently now, doing as he says, and his mouth crashes into yours mid-moanโswallowing it whole, like he can't bear the sound of his own unraveling.
And when he groans into you, deep and guttural and feral, you feel it between your legsโhot and pulsing and near unbearable.
He grips your hips like he's trying to anchor himselfโlike you're the only thing holding him together. He's dragging you to the edge of the counter and pinning your hand behind you, it has you feeling dizzyโthe way he has you pinned there, at his mercy.
Before you can pull away to look down at where you have your hand wrapped around him, he's picking you up off the counter yet again, carrying you and setting you down on the couch, ever so gently.
Heeseung is panting into your mouth, your bodies pressed flushโhis chest against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist. The fabric between you is suffocating. His sweats are halfway down his hips, your jeans are already abandoned on the kitchen floor, along with your panties, your composure, and any shred of dignity you once clung to when it came to him.
He's got you caged between his body and the couch. One arm braced beside your head, the other skimming down your side until his fingers are slipping between your legs again. You jolt, gasping against his lips, forehead pressed to his as his fingers slide through the mess he's made of you.
"Fuckโ" you whisper, clutching at the back of his neck.
"So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice nothing but gravel and smoke, his thumb teasing your clit in slow, deliberate circles that make your spine curl. "You're perfect like this...I knew you'd come back."
You moan again, louder, desperate, rocking against his handโyour whole body begging for him.
His mouth finds yours again, kisses sloppier now, and then he's gripping himself, lining up with your entrance, breath hot and uneven against your cheek.
And thenโ
"Rina," he breathes.
You freeze for half a second.
It's softโtender as a whispered prayer, effortless as a breath, a name escaping his lips before he even realizes it.
But your brain doesn't quite catch itโnot fully. You're too far gone. Too overwhelmed by the stretch of him nudging at your entrance, by the unbearable heat of his body, the quiet, feral groan rumbling from his chest.
You blink, dazed. "What...?"
But the next second, he's pushing in.
And everything else disappears.
Your body arches, mouth falling open around a choked cry as he fills you in one slow, devastating thrust.
The stretch burns in the best way, and Heeseung moans something guttural, animalistic, like the moment he's inside you he's forgotten his own name too.
"So tight," he groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he holds himself there, buried to the hilt. "Fucking heaven."
Your fingers claw at his back, your mouth finding the shell of his ear.
"Heeseungโmove. Pleaseโ"
He pulls back, just enough to slam into you again, and you swear the stars tilt. His rhythm is brutal, relentless, every thrust stealing the breath from your lungs, and you're sobbing nowโmoaning into his mouth like you've lost your mind. Maybe you have.
Maybe he has.
Because he's whispering things you can't quite understandโfragmented pieces of something almost sweet, almost unhinged.
"My perfect girl... only mine... waited so longโso longโRina..."
You hear it again. Clearer now, but you're too gone to stop. Too full of him to question it. Your body writhes beneath his like it's what it was made forโlike he's been carved into your DNA.
And you don't know what he means but something about the way he's holding youโpossessive, reverent, frantic like he'll die without youโsends a chill up your spine even as you're unraveling around him.
Where they meetโthe madness and the needโyou don't know where you end and he begins. But you're already lifting your hips to meet his just to chase your high. You're pretty sure you're drooling now and by the way he looks down at you a smiles you know he likes what he seeing "You're so beautiful" "So tight wrapped arounโ" He keeps silencing himself with strangled moans, pulling back and sitting up, too overwhelmed to even remember he hasn't apologized for already being on the edge.
"I'm gonna cโ" "Oh fuck fuck fuuuuckkk" He drawls on and on, you can feel your release coming too, in fact it almost feel like you're going to pee. "Don't stop! Heeseung! Fuck!" You moan loudly, yanking him down into a sloppy kiss before pushing his hips back, his cock slipping wet and twitching from your cunt. Without pause, your fingers find your clit, working it in savage, relentless circles, each one followed by a sharp slap that makes your thighs jolt. "Fuckโshit!" you cry out, body arching as a hot stream shoots from you, splattering across his stomach and chest.
His breath catchesโeyes blown wide, chest heavingโwatching you lose control all over him "You're so sexy". You haven't even caught your breath when he suddenly takes over again, letting the mess spill from you as if your trembling doesn't matter, pushing you down and driving himself deep into the pulsing aftermath still rippling through your body.
"Cum on my cock again,ย please" "Need you to, RinaโFuck! I'm so close!" He's mumbling half incoherent half desperate and your overstimulated self doesn't seem to hear the alarm bells ringing in your head at the name he just called you again.ย You're already on the brink again, trembling and aching for it, and when it finally crashes through you, it's because Heeseung drags it out with no mercy. He pulls out, cock dripping, and fists it furiously as he paints your stomachโbut he doesn't let your cunt stay empty. Two fingers slam back into your soaked hole, curling deep and fast, forcing you to squirt all over his wrist as he talks you through it with a low, filthy grin.
You're both trembling.
Sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin. Harsh breathing. The deep, ragged quiet of two people who forgot where they were, who they were, what any of this even meant. He slumps forward, collapsing into you with a half-groan, half-laugh, and you let your fingers drift up his spine, your body humming with aftershocks.
You don't say anything and neither does he, not for a long, long moment.
Then he pushes up, slowly, gentlyโhis hands sliding beneath your thighs as he lifts you off the couch. You whimper softly from the sensitivity, clinging to his shoulders.
"Come on," he says, voice raw and low. "Shower."
Your limbs feel like water, but you nod, letting him carry you. He walks the both of you to the massive bathroom like you weigh nothingโlike you're still something precious in his armsโand sets you down on the warm tile floor. The shower clicks on, hot water spraying against his hand as he checks the temperature, then guides you under it with him.
The moment the water hits you, you shiverโmore from the way he's looking at you than the heat. His gaze doesn't drop once. Not when he's rubbing gentle soap over your skin, not when he's rinsing between your legs with careful fingers, not when he presses a kiss to your shoulder like an apology he's too afraid to say aloud.
He doesn't speak until you're both out, towel-wrapped and damp.
"You okay?" he asks quietly, toweling off your hair with surprising tenderness.
You nod. And you don't stop him when he pulls one of his T-shirts over your headโsoft and oversized, falling to your mid-thigh. You don't stop him when he pulls on a pair of boxers for you either, or when he leads you to the guest bedroom, the sheets cool and clean beneath your bare legs as you crawl under them.
He climbs in next to you, his body warm beside yours, and without a word, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your waist like it's muscle memory.
There's no more heat. No more tension. Just his heartbeat against your back, his breath slow and steady in your ear and you fall asleep like that, in his clothes, in his bed, in his arms. Not thining about the name he whispered.
*โข*โข*
You wake up before Heeseung does.
There's no buzzing alarm, no sunlight breaking through the blackout curtains, but your body jolts upright anywayโlike your soul remembered what your mind didn't.
Panic grips you first.
Jiyoon. She's definitely called. Probably texted. Maybe even filed a missing person's report.
You twist in the sheets, trying not to disturb the weight draped over your waist. Heeseung's arm. Heavy, possessive, warm. His hand is splayed over your hip like it belongs there.
You freeze. Your breath catches in your throat.
What did I do?
Your heart's racing as you carefully, carefully peel his arm off of you, shimmying toward the edge of the bed. You manage to get one leg off, then another, tiptoeing like a thief in the early morning hushโ
"Why are you sneaking out?"
You squeak.
Spinning around, your hands instinctively fly to your chest, but you're still wearing his shirt. You breathe a little but then freeze again when you see him. Heeseung is propped up on one elbow, hair mussed, eyes half-lidded and heavy with sleep. His voice is low and scratchyโone of those voices that somehow sounds like velvet and gravel all at once.
You stare. And then it hits youโlike a freight train right between the ribs. Everything he did to you. Every moan he pulled from your lips. The way he tasted. The way he touched you like you were something sacred and sinful at the same time. You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth like you can trap the memory there.
His brow lifts just slightly, eyes crinkling with amusement. "What am I gonna do with you?" he mutters, flipping back onto the bed with a sigh, one arm flung over his eyes. "You're trouble."
"I have to go," you say quickly, eyes darting to the door. "My friend is probably freaking out, she didn't know where I wasโ"
"Okay," he murmurs, voice muffled beneath his forearm. "But can I get a kiss?" You blink, feeling your heart stutter. Then, slowly, you cross the room again, padding back to the side of the bed. His arm lowers just enough to watch you. When you lean down, brushing your lips to his, he humsโlike he's been waiting for that exact moment.
But just as you try to pull away, he grabs you. You yelp, landing on top of him with a soft thud as his hands anchor you by the hips. "Heeseungโ" He kisses you again and t's not a chaste goodbye kiss this time. It's deeper, hotterโhis lips moving slow and sure against yours, like he has all the time in the world. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you melt against him without thinking, your fingers clutching the soft fabric of his T-shirt over his chest.
You whine into his mouth. "I have to go..." He nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with a soft kiss before pulling back just enough to breathe. "Come back," he whispers. "Tonight. Seven o'clock."
You're blinking at him, breathless. "To... clean?" He shakes his head once, lips twitching. "No. I'll cook." You can't help it. You smile. It's shy and warm and completely helpless. "Okay," you whisper.
He lets you go then, but not before placing one last kiss on your cheek, right beneath your eye. "Don't be late."
You close the door to the guest bedroom behind you, twisting the handle slowly so it doesn't make a sound, like he might stir just from the click, not that he could even be asleep again. Your heart's still thudding, though softer now, your body still warm from how he held youโnot just last night, but moments ago. You feel him on your skin. Between your thighs. In your mouth, even. You pad into the hallway, feet silent against the floor, and the penthouse feels even bigger in the morning, stretching out wide and echoey. Sunlight slips in through the tall windows of the living room, golden and faint, catching dust in the air.
Your clothes are everywhere. A trailโyour bra laying on the kitchen floor with your jeans close by, your shirt hanging from the edge of a barstool like some kind of white flag.
You sigh.
You gather them quickly, cradling the bundle to your chest. But when you unfold your shirtโwell, what's left of itโyou remember the exact moment he took it off, how he looked at you like you were some forbidden fruit he'd gone too long without, you hadn't even realized he had ripped it. It's unsalvageable.
So you just... don't put it on. You slip your bra back on, then shrug his black shirt over it. It swallows you, soft and warm from sleep. You wiggle into your jeans next, the ones he peeled off of you. Your hands tremble as you do the button up.
Last thingโyour phone. You search the couch. Nothing. Under the cushions. Still nothing. You check the kitchen counter, the bar, even crouch down to peek under the sofa. "Come on, come on..." Then finally, mercifully, you spot it near the edge of the carpet, half-tucked under the dining chair. You dive for it like it's oxygen and fumble to unlock it.
Ten missed calls. Three voicemails. Twenty-two messages.
All from one name. You don't even get a word out when you hit callโJiyoon answers on the first ring. "You bitch." You wince. "Oh my god," she cackles. "Youย bitch. Where were you? Don't tell meโno, no actually, tell me everything right now."
"Jiโ"
"You slept with him, didn't you? You fucking whore. You got that psycho dick, didn't you?! Tell me. Was it good? Was it crazy?!"
You cover your face with your hand, crouching down behind the kitchen island like you're trying to hide from the embarrassment sinking into your bones. "I'm coming home," you say weakly, voice still raspy from sleep and... everything else.
"Oh," Jiyoon says, tone shifting slightly. "I'm not home right now. I'm covering a shift for my lazy coworker. But I'll be back laterโwait, wait, is he still there? Areย youย still there? What's he doing?"
"Jiyoon."
"What?"
"Bye."
You hang up.
Still pink-faced and hot, you shove your phone in your pocket, tug on your sneakers, and walk to the elevator with your head ducked lowโlike the doors might open and the walls themselves would whisper what happened between them. You're not sure how to feel. Still floating. Still wrecked. But you know you'll be back by 7.
*โข*โข*
You unlock the door to your apartment with shaking fingers, pushing it open slowly like you might find the night before still waiting for you on the other side. But it's empty, cause there's no Heeseung here. No soft piano notes echoing from hidden corners. No whispered "be back by seven." Just your little apartment, lived-in and warm and smelling faintly of vanilla from the candle Jiyoon must've lit last night. You step inside, close the door behind you, and lean back against it for a second. Just to breathe. Your body aches so deliciously and shamefully. Your lips are sore. Your thighs. Your heart.
You change into something soft and oversized before dropping onto your desk chair and logging into your online class, the kind of class that requires so much effort to focus on even when you haven't just had... whatever that was. The screen lights up. A professor you don't care about is already talking, already droning on about something you're not registering. You blink at the slides. The bullet points. You try. Really, you do. But your brain?
It's busy. Because it won't stop showing you his face in the dark. The way he hovered over you, lips parted, skin burning hot against yours. The way he touched you like you were something he needed to know. Memorize.
The way he whisperedโlow and wreckedโ"Rina." You flinch.
It hits you all at once. You'd been so caught up in the moment, too far gone to process it then. But now? Now it loops. The way he said it. Like a prayer. Like a confession. Rina.
Who the hell is Rina? You shift in your seat, open a new tab, and hesitate. Your heart is racing againโnot the good kind this time, as your hands tremble over the keyboard. Then you type it in regardless,
Lee Heeseung Rina
The search bar blinks at you. You hit enter. And there it is.
The very first result is a glossy thumbnail from three years ago. Heeseung in an interview, seated on a sleek navy couch, wearing black slacks and a gray button up sweater and a white shirt beneath it. He's smiling. That breathtaking smile you've only seen a few times up close, so effortless and disarming. You click the video.
The host laughs and leans forward. "Come on, Heeseung. Everyone wants to know. Who's Rina?" Heeseung chuckles, mouth tugging up at one side. You sit a little straighter.
"She's my first love," he says. "And probably the only one I'll ever love like that." The crowd awwws and your heart cracks like glass under pressure, you have pause the video. So she was real.ย A real woman.Someone he loved so deeply he admitted it on cameraโpublicly, permanently. Your throat closes up. Your chest tightens. He called you that name. Did he think of her while he wasโ. You don't even finish the thought. Instead, you search harder. Scroll deeper. You need to know what she looks like. If you look like her. If this is some messed upย ghost-of-an-exย situation.
Another video pops upโthis one titledย "Behind the Scenes | Seoul Symphony Ensemble (ft. Lee Heeseung)"
You click it. The footage is candid, grainy. Heeseung's younger here, maybe only twenty or twenty-one, still too beautiful for it to be fair. The camera follows him backstage as he leads a film crew through the dim corridors of a concert hall. Then he stops, turns to the camera. "Come here," he says with a quiet laugh, gesturing to the next room. "You have to meet her." The camera jostles slightly as they follow. Heeseung walks up to a sleek, glossy black grand piano and runs his fingers across the keys. "This is Rina," he says, like he's introducing a person. His voice is reverent. Almost loving. "She's been with me since I was thirteen. She's...kind of everything to me."
You freeze.
The camera zooms in slightly. Heeseung brushes dust from the piano's surface with his sleeve, smiling at it so softly it hurts. "She's my first love." You sit there, staring, mind blank and full all at once.
Rina's not a person.
Rina's a piano.
A fucking piano. A part of you wants to laugh at your delusion but you don't, instead you just sit there.ย Eyes glued to the screen. To him. To the way he's speakingโnot to the camera, not even to the crewโbut to the piano, like it's something alive. Like it's someone he's missed. Someone he still longs for in the softest, most ruined parts of himself. And that nameโRinaโsits different now in your head. Not like a rival. Not like someone he's still in love with. But like... a memory. A feeling. Something that made him whole when the world couldn't.
Rina is his piano.
You let the video run, sound turned low, just watching himโbarely twenty two, still beautiful, still broken. The way he presses one key gently and listens. How he says,ย she's been with me since I was thirteen. How he adds,ย she's my first loveย like it's a secret and a confession all at once. Your heart folds in on itself. Because in a way it makes sense now. The way he said your name last night, the way he whispered Rina insteadโlike he couldn't tell the difference. Like in his mind, in that haze of need and obsession and closeness, you had become something sacred. Something he hadn't let himself love in years. Something he used to play like music. And he'd touched you the same wayโwith reverence and hunger, as if trying to figure out where you end and he begins. You press your palm to your chest, like maybe you can settle your heartbeat if you hold it hard enough.
He doesn't see you as a replacement. You're not her. But in that moment, you think he felt something he hadn't in a long time. Something pure. Something familiar. Something maybe even terrifying. Heeseung, in his fractured, beautiful, obsessive mind, didn't just mistake you for his piano, he associated the momentโyouโwith what he once felt when he played Rina. And maybe he's so far gone he doesn't even realize he did it. And maybe you should be scared, but all you feel is this deep, warm ache in your ribs that won't go away. You close the laptop, completely forgetting about your class, and press your fingers to your lips. They still tingle from kissing him and you feel your stomach turn with excitement for the night to come.
*โข*โข*
You hear it before you see her. The clatter of her keys on the counter. The heavy sigh. And then, sharpโlike a bullet of disbelief,ย "YOU BITCH." "OH MY GOD." You don't even turn. Just let your eyes flutter shut and mentally brace for it. "You absoluteย filthy little minx," Jiyoon hisses, storming into the hallway in her work flats and crumpled apron, "Don't even try to deny itโI know you did it." "I'm not denying anything," you mumble, turning slowly to face her. She's halfway through unzipping her jacket, eyes wide, expression scandalized.
Your entire face bursts into flames. "Jiyoonโ" "Oh my God, you did sleep with him." She points at you like she's witnessing a war crime. "You have sex hair. You're literally glowing. What the hell is that shirt? Waitโdon't tell me." She takes a dramatic step back. "Is thatย hisย shirt?" You tug the hem instinctively. "It's just... something I had to wear. Mine gotโum. Ripped." She stares at you. Blinks once. Twice. Then screams. "Oh my GOD. Heย rippedย your clothes off? That'sโlikeโthat's premium movie-level sexy violence."
You bury your face in your hands. "Please lower your voice." "You didn't even text me last night!" she cries. "Do you know how worried I was? I thought he locked you in a cage or something!"
"I was busy," you say, voice strangled. "You were BUSY getting ravenously destroyed," she says, flopping onto the couch like the dramatics are too heavy for her legs. "Okay. Tell me everything. Don't leave out any of the details. Did he talk? Was it intense? Slow burn? Did he likeโsay your name all rough and gravelly or was he like, all quiet and crazy about it?" You hesitate.
You want to tell her and you almost do, but something about that momentโabout everything that happened last night, the hazy weight of his body pressed against yours, his breath in your ear, how he held you like you were a prayer and a ghost all at onceโfeels too delicate. Too personal. You can't even begin to explain the shift you felt inside yourself, let alone the strange ache in your chest when he said that name. You swallow, keeping your voice light. "It was... really good."
Jiyoon lifts a brow. "That's it? Good?" You shoot her a look. "I'm not giving you a full play-by-play." She gasps. "So itย wasย insane." "I'm gonna be late," you deflect, brushing past her to grab your phone. "I told him I'd be there at seven." "Ugh. Seven is such a romantic time."
"What does that even mean?" "Like. Not too early, not too late. Right in the middle. Candlelight o'clock." She wiggles her eyebrows. "You gonna let him feed you and then fuck you again?""Jiyoon."
"You are. Oh my God. Are you shaving again or are we doing stubble and surrender tonight?" You groan. "I can't talk to you about this." "Yes, you can," she says, pulling her hair into a bun. "We signed a roommate agreement, remember? Emotional nudity clause." You smile despite yourself. "Just wish me luck, okay?" She softens then, eyes scanning your face. "You like him." You hesitate, fingers pausing on your necklace clasp. "I don't know what I feel," you say truthfully. "It's... fast. Messy." "You don't do messy."
"Exactly." Jiyoon walks over, squeezes your shoulder. "That shirt looks hot on you, by the way. Like dangerouslyย I-was-just-fucked-by-a-mentally-ill-manย hot." "Thanks, I think."
"Be safe. Don't let him tie you to anything unless there's a safe word. Call me if he tries to perform an exorcism." You laugh, heading for the bathroom door. "You're gonna fall for him," she calls behind you. "You already are, huh?" But you don't answer, because you don't know that yet, and if you do, you're not ready to say it out loud.
You check the time again when it's 6:38 PM. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror stares back at youโdoe-eyed, glossed lips parted slightly, a tiny knot of nerves cinched beneath your ribs. You smooth your hands down your dress for the fifth time, whispering to yourself under your breath like it might change something. "Okay," you murmur. "Just dinner. It's just... dinner." With Heeseung. At his penthouse. In a dress you specifically picked to walk the very fine line betweenย I wanted to look nice for you and I definitely didn't spend two hours trying on everything I own. A dress that clings at your waist and floats at your knees and makes you feel pretty but also exposed. Not in a bad way, just... in a way that makes your skin feel watched. Known.
You hesitate in the doorway, staring down the hallway toward the stairs. And then you groan. "Nope. No way I'm taking the bus." You can already see itโyou standing sandwiched between strangers, one arm clutching the overhead bar, the other yanking at your skirt, trying not to breathe too loud. You can feel the wrinkles forming just thinking about it. You'd show up looking like a disheveled little sandwich and HeeseungโHeeseung with his white linen shirts and leather watchbandsโwould tilt his head and maybe smile and maybe not say anything, but you'd know. You open your phone and call a cab.
It feels ridiculous. Extravagant even. But the moment you sink into the backseat, cool leather beneath your thighs and the city lights blinking past your window like slow breaths, something quiet settles inside you. You take a long, shaky inhale. Heeseung's face comes to mind. The way he looked last nightโflushed and breathless and so terribly hungry for you, like you were the first and last thing he'd ever wanted. The way he whispered your name. Exceptโit wasn't your name. Not the first time. Your fingers tighten slightly on your bag and you push the thought away. You already made peace with itโtold yourself it didn't mean anything. Not really. You'd seen the videos. You know what Rina is. And in some strange, abstract way, you think maybe you understand what happened better than you should.
Maybe he sees things in fragmentsโmaybe he feels things in them too. Maybe last night, you reminded him of something he loved once so deeply he carved a home for it in his bones. And maybe tonight, you want him to start carving space for you instead. You glance atthe time on your phone, 6:53. Your stomach flutters. Are you nervous?
Godโyes. Your knees won't stop bouncing, and your fingers keep picking at the edge of your dress. But you're also... excited.You don't know what's waiting for you on the other side of this rideโdon't know if dinner will be awkward or sweet or laced with something heavierโbut it feels like something real. Something different. And that terrifies you. Because you've never been looked at the way he looked at you last night. Not like you were music.
The cab pulls up to the building. You pay with shaky hands, thank the driver too softly, and walk inside. The elevator ride is a blur of breath-holding. The ding at the top floor even sends a jolt through your chest. And then you're standing in front of his penthouse door, your hand hovering, not sure whether to knock or justโ. It's not locked. The knob turns and you step inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click, and you're met with... silence. You take one hesitant step forward into the quiet space. It's too quiet. The air feels still in a way it didn't the last time you were hereโwhen it was thick with the scent of his skin, his hands, your gasps and moans echoing off the walls like confessions. Now it's like the space is holding its breathย again.
"Heeseung?" you call, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance at the clock on the wall, 7:01. You chew on your lip, glancing around. The kitchen looks untouched. There's no trace of movement, no clatter of pans or scent of dinner in the air. There's a single light on in the far corner by the bookshelves, casting golden shadows across the couch where he held you just hours ago, his mouth in your hair and his arms locked around your waist like he was afraid you'd disappear. You exhale softly. "Heeseung?" you try again, louder this time, taking cautious steps farther in. Still nothing.
And then it hits youโyou don't even have his number. You came here like some wide-eyed idiot with your heart between your teeth, expecting him to just be there, waiting, arms outstretched. It hadn't occurred to you that he might not hear the door, or might be upstairs, or might have changed his mind entirely.
God. You sink down onto the arm of the couch and try not to panic. You won't text Jiyoonโnot yet. She'd tease you mercilessly and then probably tell you to go snoop in case he was sleeping with other people or something absurd. You don't want to snoop. You just want to see him. You shift in your seat, smoothing your dress again, tugging at the edge of it and check the time again, 7:06. You blink, already feeling defeated and ready to leave but then a sharp loud sound echoes from upstairs that has you snapping your head towards the stairs. There's another thudโlouder this timeโfollowed by a crash that sends a sharp jolt through your chest. Something shattered. And then, unmistakably, screaming. Blood-curdling. Ragged. Like pain clawing itself out of a throat too raw to hold it anymore.
Your breath snags. Your heart kicks into high gear. Your body's moving before your mind can catch up, instinct overriding hesitation as you bolt through the living room, past the grand piano, toward the stairs. Breaking every rule you were given when you first started working here, but that's the last thing on your mind.
He's upstairs. That's himโhim screaming.You take the stairs two at a time, heart pounding, fingers scrambling against the banister. When you reach the top, there's only one door that makes senseโtall and black, you sprint to it, chest heaving, and try the handle.
Locked.
Your fist slams against it before you can think. "Heeseung?!" There's no responseโjust another crash, something metallic this time, like a stand being thrown, maybe a chair. Your knuckles are pulsing against the wood. "Heeseung, open the door! Please!" Still no answer. Just a chorus of garbled wordsโfrenzied, nonsensical, frantic.
"They changed the notesโdon't you hear it? It's all wrong, out of key, they're inside the piano! Stop watching me! The rhythm's bleeding, I can'tโ" Another crash. "It's too loud in here, too loud in my head, make it stop!" Your blood runs cold. Something primal flickers inside youโpanic morphing into something sharper, braver. You back up, brace your shoulder against the frame, and throw yourself forward.
Once. Twiceโ
CRACK.
The door flies open, and you stumble into the absolute chaos, the first thing you see is the floor, and at the center of it all; a piano or what's left of one. Splintered wood. Torn wires. Ivory keys cracked like teeth knocked from a skull. You recognize it instantly. Rina.
There more glass and splintered wood than floor beneath her. Crumpled sheet music. A chair lying on its side. Blood. Blood like paint streaked across the wooden floor, thin trails leading toโ
Him. Heeseung.
Standing in the center of it all like a broken monument. There's a deep gash across his forearm, blood still dripping sluggishly onto his hand and down his knuckles. His chest rises and falls too fast, ribs pushing sharply beneath skin that gleams with sweat. His hair sticks to his face. His eyesโwide, unseeing, glazed with something far away and chaotic and terrifyingโdon't register you at first. He's breathing like he's drowning.
You try to speak, to talk to him, but your throat won't open. He moves before you can. Quick, jerky. Like his body's not entirely his own. He spins, stares at the wall like it's speaking to him, fingers twitching at his sides. "They changed the notes," he mutters. "They changed theย fuckingย notes." His voice is shredded. Raw. Like he's been screaming for hours. Maybe he has. You take one step closer, and your heel lands on a snapped piano key. It clicks beneath your foot like a trigger. He whips around, eyes on you now, all wild, unhinged and unfocused. "Who are you?" he rasps.
You freeze. The question slices clean through you. Your mouth opens, but your voice won't come. Heeseung stares, pupils blown so wide you can barely see the brown. His hands curl and uncurl like he's not sure if he wants to reach for you or strangle you. "Whoย areย you?" he repeats. "Why are you watching me? Are you one of them?"
Them? Your heart stutters. "Heeseung..." you whisper, finally finding your voice. "It's me." But he flinches like you've struck him. You take another step and watch as he instinctively steps back. "No," he whispers. "NoโRina? I'm so sorry. I hurt you. You were perfect and I ruined you. My perfect girl. Please forgive me." Your breath catches.
"It's okay, it's okay." You don't know where it comes from. Maybe instinct. Maybe desperation. Maybe the way his voice cracks like the word is a wound. "I forgive you," you say, voice steadier this time. "I came back for you." His mouth parts and his whole body stills. You can see the thought slotting into place behind his eyes, crooked and trembling and fragile. But it settles. "...Rina?" You nod. "I'm here."
He walks toward you slowly. So slow. Like every step might set him off again. And still, you don't move. His bloodied hand lifts, fingers brushing your cheekโhis touch clumsy and too hard at first, like he doesn't remember how to be gentle. But then it softens. His palm cups your jaw, and he leans in so close his breath skates across your lips. "I knew you'd come back," he murmurs. Your throat tightens and swallow around the ache, allowing him to press his forehead against yours. "I'm here now."
"Don't leave," he breathes. "Please don't leave me again. The music stops when you're gone. It stops and I can't breathe, I can'tโ"
"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper. He leans back just enough to look at you. The way he's looking nowโit breaks you, because there's no rage or wildness. Just pure, shivering exhaustion. He's unraveling at the seams, and you're the only thread keeping him together. "I want to play," he says softly. "Let me play you."
You nod. And when he tugs you toward the mangled piano, you follow. It's barely standing. The legs are cracked. One pedal's missing. The keys are unevenโsome bloodied, some broken. It shouldn't work. It shouldn't sound. But he sits on the shattered bench, breath hitching, and gently pulls you onto his lap.
You settle there, straddling him, your dress bunching slightly against the rough edge of the wood. Your hands brace on his shoulders. His arms wrap around you, drawing you closer. And thenโfingers tremblingโHeeseung presses his hands to the keys. The sound is... haunting. Off. Warped. But he plays anyway. A melody, jagged and soft. A lullaby with broken bones. The piano cries beneath his touch, but he keeps playing. For you, because of you, it all makes your chest ache for him, you even feel your eyes sting. And all you can do is hold him, let him pour whatever's left of himself into the broken body of his pianoโinto you.
Because right now, in this room thick with blood and chaos and ghosts, you're the only thing anchoring him to earth. The music tumbles out of him in discordant bursts, crooked and aching like his mind, like his bodyโlike whatever this is between you. And you swear, you'd let him play you forever. But then his fingers slip, not from the broken keys, but because your breath stutters against his jaw. He stills, drifting one hand away from the piano to find your waist instead, the other continues to play, the curve of your backโand then he's holding you so tight you feel the blood from his arm soak warm through your dress.
You don't flinch.
He tilts his face up, searching yours. Your lips part, not for words, but for the way his mouth captures yours the second you breathe in. It's soย soย desperate. A kiss that tastes like iron and sweat and the kind of madness that wants to be known, wants to be seen.
You whimper into him, clutching at the front of his shirt, and his hands are already movingโshaky, hurried, needingโgrabbing at your dress, dragging it up your thighs as if he doesn't care it's stained now, doesn't care it's soft and new and something you wore for him.The keys beneath you clatter with each shift of your hips, and his fingers fumble at the zipper on your side like it's fighting him. He groans low in his throat, kissing you harder, tongue sliding hot against yours as if he's trying to crawl inside of youโtrying to disappear there, to lose the noise in his head.
"You came back," he gasps against your mouth. "You really came backโ" You nod, breathless, eyes wet, thighs tightening around his waist. "I told you I would." He tugs the dress down your shoulders, hands smeared with red, smearing it onto you, painting you with it. It sticks to your collarbones, your arms, a fever-warm trail of devotion and ruin, but you don't stop him.
He's kissing you like he needs this to survive, like he'll lose his mind all over again if you pull away. Your fingers thread through his hair, and he groans at the way you pull, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, your jaw, your shoulderโbiting, tasting his blood smeared there, claiming. You tremble. And then his hand is between your legs, cupping you through your panties, a low, reverent moan tearing from his chest when he feels the heat there. "For me," he mutters, delirious. "You're like this for me."
"Yes," you breathe, rolling your hips into his hand, nails clawing at his back through his shirt. "Only for you." He groans again, like the words unmake him.
Your dress is halfway down your body, straps hanging off your arms, and you're so tangled together that it's hard to tell whose limbs are whose. He continues kissing you then like a vow. Like salvation. And everything elseโthe broken piano, the screaming from earlier, the sharp pain in your back from the cracked lidโfades to nothing. The music stutters beneath youโsharp, erratic keystrokes like a hymn being pulled apart at the seams.
But he doesn't stop playing. Even as his bloody fingers slip over the ivories, even as his other hand bunches your dress up around your hips, even as you gasp into his mouth and his teeth catch your bottom lip hard enough to sting. You're still straddling him, thighs trembling on either side of his lap, and he's shifting beneath you like he can't get close enough, like the distance between your bodies is an insult to the devotion he's shaking with.
"Heeseung," you whisper, breath hitching as his hand slides between your legs, the fabric of your panties clinging to you wet and ruined. "Pleaseโ" "Shh," he hushes, mouth dragging down your neck, blood and spit slick on your skin. "It's okay, it's okayโI got you, baby, I got youโ" His fingers tremble as he pushes the fabric aside, clumsy and rushed, and you flinch when his knuckles brush over you. He groans against your throat, hand gripping your hip like he might break it, like it's the only anchor he has.
"Fuck, you're so warmโ" he pants, "โI missed you so much, I missed youโ" You don't know if he's talking to you or to her, to Rina, to whatever memory he's tangled you up withโbut you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he's freeing himself beneath you with frantic hands, moaning under his breath as he fumbles himself through his sweats, panting into your collarbone like he's on the verge of falling apart. And then he's there. Thick, flushed, already so hard it makes your head spin. He grips your thighs, pulling you up just enoughโjust enough to alignโand then sinks you down onto him in one ragged, choking breath.
You cry out, clenching around him, thighs shaking. Heeseung's head snaps back, a guttural sound ripping from his throat, and his hands clamp down on your hips like he's afraid you'll vanish again. "Oh my Godโ" he gasps, "โmove, baby, please, come onโcome onโ"
He's twitching inside you already, so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but he's begging for more. Encouraging you, pushing up into you while his hands guide your hips, while his fingersโstill stained with his bloodโreturn to the keys beneath him, pressing out that same broken melody. You try to moveโhips rising, sinkingโbut it's messy. Desperate. Your thighs burn, your breath hitches, and your forehead presses to his as he whispers, "Just like that, just like thatโdon't stopโdon't stopโ" The piano groans beneath you both. His legs tremble. Your panties are barely hanging on, twisted and soaked, caught somewhere between you, and stillโstillโhe keeps playing.
Keeps playing through the rise and fall of your bodies, through the wet slap of your hips, through the breathless moans and the ache and the madness. He's shaking beneath you. His mouth finds yours again, swallowing your sobs, blood smearing from his wrist to your waist as he holds you tighterโdeeperโcloser.
"I knew you'd come back," he whispers, forehead to yours. "You always come back to me." You can't answer. You can only cry out his name, again and again, as the notes beneath you unravel into chaos and crescendo Your fingers claw at his shoulders as you rock against him, pace faltering with every thick thrust. The bench groans beneath your bodies, protesting under the weight of it all, but you don't stop. Neither of you could if you tried.
His hands are all over youโup your back, into your hair, clawing at your waist like he doesn't know where to hold, just that he has to hold somewhere.
The piano is completely forgotten now. The keys he was so desperate to pressโabandoned mid-chord, half-played notes frozen under bloodied fingertips. But Heeseung's mouth is moving and he's moaning something. At first it's a whisper, hoarse and uneven, barely above the wet sound of your bodies meeting again and again. But thenโclearer, louderโ "Y/N... oh my god, Y/Nโ" You halt for a second. Barely. Just long enough to catch your breath. To hear him. Your nameโyour name, not his pianosโspilling from his lips like prayer, like apology, like it's the only thing anchoring him to reality.
Heeseung's head drops to your shoulder, and he's panting your name again, so sweet and unguarded it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. "Y/N," he gasps, "you feel so good, babyโfuckโso goodโ" It's like he sees you now. Really sees you. And his hands are softer now, less frantic, still trembling but reverent in how they hold youโhis thumb brushing your waist, his other hand cradling your jaw as he lifts your face to his.
Your noses bump. His eyes search yours like he's never seen anything more precious. "It's you," he whispers, almost awed. "It's really you..."He leans in, kissing you like the world's finally slowed down, like he's finally returned to it. To you. And when you move againโhips grinding, slow now, deeperโhe moans your name into your mouth, over and over like it's his undoing. Each syllable spills from him shakily, soaked with disbelief and want and something that almost sounds like worship.
Your hands find his cheeks, thumbs stroking where the dried tears have clung to his skin, and when you whisper his name back, soft and breathless, he shudders. Heeseung's forehead presses to yours. You feel him twitch inside you, thighs clenching around him as you both near that terrible, beautiful edge again, and he breathes your name one last timeโ "Y/N, I'mโfuckโI'm gonna cum, baby, pleaseโstay with meโstayโ" Your hips stutter. His hands seize. And then everything splintersโ. Your name tears from his throat in a ragged moan, your own lips parted in soundless release as your body collapses forward, curling into his chest like instinct.
Heeseung's arms close around you immediately. One low on your spine, the other twisted into your hair, as if he can press you into him hard enough to keep you there forever. Your pulse throbs everywhere. Between your legs, in your throat, under your tongue. Heeseung is trembling beneath you, arms loose but shaking, chest heaving like he's run for miles and only now stopped to breathe.
He's still inside you. Still in you, cradled and connected and caught in the softness of what just happened. No piano. No ghosts. Just this.You shift slightly, just to catch your breath, and he shudders around you with a hoarse gasp. His head drops to your shoulder, face buried in the crook of your neck. You stay there a while. No words. No need. Just the sound of the wind against the high windows, the echo of your breathing, and the quiet creak of a broken piano bench holding two too-lost people.
Eventually, his fingers twitch against your waist. "Y/N," he breathes, voice scratchy and soft. You hum, stroking the sweaty strands of hair back from his temple. Your touch is gentle, slow, grounding. He lifts his headโeyes glassy, wide and wet around the edges. You watch them drop down, settle on the stains between you, the faint blood still smudged across his hands and chest. He catches your wrist.Brings your fingersโstill tremblingโto the mess of red streaked across his ribs. The open cuts from earlier have mostly clotted, but the wounds are still fresh, angry-looking, like they're still listening to the madness that tore them open. He presses your palm there, over his heart.
"This body..." he whispers, eyes still downcast. "It belongs to too many ghosts." Your chest tightens, but you don't pull away. Instead, your fingers spread gently over the damp skin of his chest, pressing softly, reverently. You guide his gaze up to meet yours. "It belongs to me tonight," you murmur, voice quiet but sure. "It's okay, Heeseung. I've got you."
He blinks hard and for a second, something in him flickers. Something soft. Almost boyish and safe. Then his forehead presses against yours again. He leans into the cradle of your hands like he's never been touched this way beforeโlike he doesn't know what to do with it. "...Don't let go yet," he whispers. "I won't," you promise. "Not tonight." Heeseung's head is resting against yours, your hand still pressed to his chest, when he whispers it. So faint, it's nearly lost in your breathing.
"...Call her." You pull back a little, brushing your nose against his cheek. "Hm?" He blinks slowly, like the exhaustion is hitting him all at once. "Phone's somewhere here, on the shelf by the metronome. Justโtell her it's bad, she'll come." You stare back into his eyes cluelessly,
"My nurse".
You nod, slipping gently off his lap. He groans softly at the loss of you but doesn't stop you. Doesn't move at all, reallyโjust tilts his head back against the edge of the bench, hair damp with blood sweat and tears. You find the phone where he said it would be, swipe up, and call the nurse. She picks up after one ring. You tell her to come and you don't have to say much moreโshe must be used to these calls by now. And as you're hanging up, you hear him say it behind you, low and soft, "Thanks... for coming upstairs."
You turn, heart squeezing. He's still sitting there, shirtless and smeared in blood, legs parted like he couldn't stand if he tried. But he's looking at youโreally lookingโand something about it makes your breath catch in your throat.
You walk over. Kiss his forehead. Then slip into the bathroom for towels, water, and cleaner. By the time the nurse arrives, you're back upstairs, on your knees by the piano, gently gathering the shattered ivory keys and splintered wood into a pile. You've scrubbed some of the blood from the floor, though the stains are stubborn. The piano looks guttedโher insides exposed, wires torn and twisted like veins. Your heart aches again. Not for the piano. But for him.
Heeseung, who stayed downstairs. Who let someone else tend to him while you tried to do what you could for the mess he left behind. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs, then his voiceโcalmer now, hoarse, but steady. "Leave it." You glance over your shoulder. He's standing there, freshly bandaged, a clean shirt half-buttoned and hanging loose on his frame. The nurse must have left quietly.
"I'm still your cleaner, remember?" you say lightly, trying to ease the air. "Let me do my job." His lips twitch. But there's something softer in his eyes nowโsomething closer to sorrow than amusement.
"You're more than that." You pause and look down at the broken keys in your hands. "I know."
And he comes to youโsinks down beside you on the floor, still moving slowly like he's holding his bones together by sheer willโand rests his forehead to yours again. Neither of you says anything else, you just sit in the wreckage of something beautiful. Together.
*โข*โข*
It's hard to say how much time has passed. Days, maybe. Weeks. The kind that blur together, quiet and golden at the edges, like light filtered through gauze. The scar on Heeseung's arm is healing wellโjust a thin red seam now, barely visible when he rolls his sleeves up. He doesn't try to hide it anymore.
You're downstairs today. The sun is dipping low and warm across the windows, lighting up the dust motes dancing in the air. The piano stands rebuilt, restoredโnot the same one from upstairs, but something new. Something you picked out together.
You're sitting beside him on the bench, your knees touching. Heeseung's hands are guiding yours across the keys with quiet patience.
"No, baby, focus" he murmurs, laughing when you hit the wrong note again. "That's an A, not a G."
"I am focused," you argue, shoulders tensing in mock defense. "I justโI forgot which finger goes where." He leans closer, brushing his lips against your temple. "The one I showed you. Your third finger. C'mon. Try again." You exhale, pouting a little as you reposition your hands. Heeseung watches you with a softness that folds itself into the corners of his smile.
You press the keys again. It's still wrong. You groan dramatically. "Ugh, why is this so hard?" And he can't help itโhe grabs your chin and kisses you mid-pout. Quick and warm. The kind of kiss that says you're the most precious thing I've ever ruined myself for.
Your lips curve into a grin beneath his. He chuckles. "You know what I think?"
"Hm?"
"I think you just like messing up so I'll kiss you."
You nudge him with your shoulder. "Maybe." Heeseung leans in again. A little slower this time. A little deeper. Then his hands return to the keys. And so do yours.
You sit like that a whileโtwo shadows against the shine of the piano, laughter and missed notes echoing softly in the room. And if someone were to peek in just then, they might think it's a simple thing. A boy and a girl, and a piano between them. But it's not. It's an anchor. A promise. A world rebuilt from ash and ghosts and broken music.
And maybe you never learned to play perfectly, but he never stopped telling you you were the most beautiful song he'd ever heard.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
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HEESEUNG 241201 ending fairy
writing a message on the bullet you're about to use to kill a billionaire who directly fucked millions of people through their health insurance makes you the coolest fucking person on earth I hope you dont get caught
Yuna performing โAlgorythmโ - 24.10.13
PHOTOS YOU'VE TAKE OF YOUR BOYFRIEND FELIX
please don't repost, requests open!
๐ญ๐๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ฐ ๐๐จ๐ฐ๐ง๐๐๐!๐ก๐๐๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐ง๐ โก (6)
โกboyfriend!heeseung x female reader (messages, twt posts)
โกwarnings: suggestive minors dni!!!, cursing, oh heโs down baddd he is literally so in love :3 and againโฆ you already know what to expect from user heeslomll
โกan: my baby !!! i love lee heeseung where can i get him finally put more twt posts :3 i adore them
texting boyfriend!heeseung 5โก
โกboyfriend!heeseung x female reader (messages)
โกwarnings: suggestive MINORS DNI!!!, suggestive, yk what else already because you canโt expect anything else from heeslomll
โกan: hello iโm back !! ofc with heeseung :3 this is for my dearest @karinasbaby & @enha-stars i love you guys sm๐you mean everything to me ๐ฉท you guys make everything sm better and worthy !!
~ โก.โก
Oddly specific. Got a deposit for 6,837 today
fuck it, i never ever do thoseย โreblog for X, this one really works!โ posts, but this one doesnโt have any of that BS, this is just straight up wishing us good things; and then the comment doesnโt even say any of that either. Zero claims on this post, all positive vibes
May you end this week feeling ever more certain of a future youโll love
May you end this week feeling ever more certain of a future youโll love



